I clutch my umbrella as I trod down the wet sidewalk. I’ve forgotten how persistently damp spring on the east coast can be. Living in the sunny southwest, I’ve been spoiled with the subtle luxury of a life without nor’easters. I wince as a blast of wind driven drizzle slaps me on the face. Mercifully, my intended refuge lies a half block ahead. A lively restaurant with warm light spilling out into the misty gloom of the deepening evening. I shake the wet droplets off my umbrella, deftly close it, and walk in.
I am met by bright, warm light and a cacophony of voices. This seems to be a popular haunt judging from the crowd. A long wooden bar dominates the left side of the space, while the dining room permeates the remainder. I ask the host if I can sit at the bar; a bored nod and a wave of a hand was my affirmative response. I head to the back corner of the bar, a quiet perch that allows me to see much of the restaurant. I settle myself on the barstool and order a drink. A no-frills gin and tonic. I’m in a mood for a bit of somberly frustrated introspection.
I pinch the bridge of my nose to ease back the low thrumming headache forming in the space directly behind my eyes. I’m flung across the country because the demands of my corporate overlords insist on it. I’m going on two weeks away from the comforts of my home and the familiarity of my bed. My watch pulses with a notification as I receive a text from my wife. Another litany of complaints. I understand the frustration, but I cannot help but feel that my happiness is being chipped away piece by piece. The bedroom has been dead and buried for a decade. I writhe in my own skin, caught between fidelity and desire. I catch a reflection of myself in the mirror and am reminded that I am fading. My dark hair replaced by a shock of silver and ash. I stand at the cusp of irrelevance, yet I cannot let go of the desire to feel … touch again. I take a sip of my drink to down the hope that I already had lost.
Laughter shakes me out of my dark reveille. A nearby table appears to be celebrating an occasion. The three women sitting at the table laugh over drinks, clearly enjoying the evening. That is when I set eyes on you. You are wearing a dark baggy sweater, your smile brilliant as you brush your hand idly through your flowing dark hair. ”*My god, she is beautiful,*” I think to myself before the shock of realizing that you’ve caught me staring. I flush and avert my eyes. I pinch the bridge of my nose again and take another drink. ”*She is going to think that I’m a creep,*” I bemoan quietly to myself as I inhale. I look idly at the menu, becoming aware of a prickling sensation burning slowly on the side of my head. I turn and our eyes lock across the room. I raise an eyebrow and my glass awkwardly while you smirk and turn back to your friends. I order another drink, to steel my nerves against the humiliation of another awkward social interaction. I consider getting my food to go and leaving, but something in the pit of my stomach stirs me to stay.
A few moments later, I hear the sound of chairs scraping across the floor. Out of the corner of my eyes I see you and your friends standing around the table. You were laughing and smiling, as your friends each give you a hug. I sigh and resist the urge to stare. You stand up and I finally get to see what you’ve been wearing. Your grey tartan skirt fits in a comfortable, but extremely flattering way. It accentuates and caresses your hips and thighs in a smolderingly flattering way. Your stockings fit your shapely legs in a way that stirs something primal in me. I quickly look away, visibly blushing. I really don’t need to embarrass myself like that. I’m a stranger, and a much older one at that. I cannot deny that I find you enchantingly gorgeous, but even if you were interested, my marital status would be a probable non-starter. I down the remainder of my drink in a quick swallow to drown any hopeful thoughts. It’s best to keep myself well situated in the harshness of reality.
I wave at the bartender to order another drink. I’m in for the evening. My work schedule tomorrow is light, with my first call starting at 9. I can afford to indulge myself with a little quiet peace for an evening. No subtle irritations or passive aggressive arguments that drives my wife and I into separate rooms. Just an evening to myself and my thoughts. I gaze at the appetizers, unsure of what to order. “They make a surprisingly good quesadilla here.” I turn jerkily, startled to be addressed as I’ve tucked myself into the quietest corner of the bar. My blank face turns to shock as I realize that the voice wasn’t from a friendly server but from you. I look at you, and then at the room. You smirk, ”they left already,” and sit on the stool next to me. My mouth moves but fails to piece together enough sounds to say a single word that makes sense. You extend a hand and introduce yourself. I manage enough composure to croak out my name and ask what you were drinking. Somehow after that awkward greeting, I found my footing and our conversation began to flow more naturally.
A few more drinks into the evening and I learn that we shared a lot in common. We were married but we both had something missing in our lives. Neither of us desired to change anything about our separately wedded lives; but we felt a magnetism between us. A force blooming in our bodies that inexorably pulls us together. A slow closing of the distance between us, our bodies finding warmth in each other. Time began to slow, as our conversation flowed like a reckless river bursting out of its banks. I felt a warmth on my thigh as your hand came to rest there. Our eyes locked and we knew that we weren’t going to leave this moment unscathed. My eyes darted to the hallway behind us, leading to the bathrooms. Your eyes sparkled with anticipation as I laid my hand over yours and gently led it up my thigh.
“Let’s go,” I softly suggest as I leaned in closer to you. Your hand deliberately stroking my bulge through my pants. You shy smile in reply, your eyes illuminated with a wicked glee. “Fuck”, I moan quietly, “I want you.” Your hand gropes and strokes the head of my cock, giving it a squeeze through my trousers. We get up in unison, moving in synchronized tandem as we walk down to the bathrooms. I push open the men’s room door. It’s an empty single stall bathroom. I pull you in and lock the door. Our lips meet and the world is immediately set ablaze.
Our bodies intuitively speak the world’s oldest and most primal language. As the gap between our bodies close words, thoughts, and filters are blurred and recombined into physical manifestations of lust and moans carried on our exhales. My hands begin to hike up your skirt, feeling your ass over your stockings. Your right hand firmly grabs my neck and pulls me closer and deeper into our kiss. Your left hand descends down my chest, deftly finding and unbuckling my belt. With a few quick, but deliberative motions, you unfasten the button on my jeans. I grab your ass, possessively, as to claim you as mine at this very moment. My fingers find the upper hem of your stockings, and I begin to peel them off to the sounds of your soft moans. I feel your hand grasping my bulge; your kiss increases in intensity as you unzip my jeans and your fingers slip in, fishing my bulge out.
I break out kiss, my lips drawing away as I look into your eyes. I smile and begin placing kisses on your chin, marching them down your jaw, then your neck. I place my left pointer and index fingers on your lips to gently silence your protestations. I lift up your sweater and march my kisses along your sternum. Your lips part, the warmth of your breath swirls around my fingertips. A soft moan escapes your mouth as I kiss your nipples through your black lace bra. My right hand slides up to unfasten your bra, as my mouth explores your right breast. As my lips close around your nipple, your mouth wraps around my left index and pointer fingers. A moan sighs out of my mouth as I begin to suck your right nipple. My right hand slides to your shapely ass, grabbing your cheeks with increasing intensity. I look up at you and moan, “I want to fuck you.” Your right hand gently pushes down my head in reply. I continue to march my kisses downwards. I gently kiss your belly, circling your navel as my right hand caresses your left hip.
Your body trembles as I pause. Your hands grab my left hand and suck my fingers vigorously, threatening to scramble my mind. I kiss the front panel of your black lace panties, feeling your lower lips swell. The taste of your wetness consumes me with lust, and I begin to peel your panties off. I look up to make sure you are comfortable. Your eyes lock with mine and you suck the tips of my fingers, swirling around each tip with your tongue. I begin to kiss your inner thighs, gently coaxing my left hand down to your hips. You lean against the wall and spread your legs as I explore your folds with my tongue, finding the hood of your clit, and bracketing it with the tip of my tongue. I alternate between licks and slight sucking as your moans cause your breath to hitch. My hands spread your lips apart, revealing that which I intend to take. I moisten my right pointer finger in my mouth and slide it in, slowly. I rotate my hand so I can curl my finger upwards in an arc, to the point behind your swelling clit as I begin to finger fuck your warm, wet, pussy.
Your moans get breathier and louder; and as soon as your hips begin to rock back and forth, meeting my fingers, I slide in a second finger. I speed up the pace as I suck your clit, my tongue curling around it from underneath. Your keening moans become a nonverbal prayer, as your hips gyrate more purposefully. My fingers make soft squelching sounds as I slide them in out of you while I alternate between licking, flicking, and sucking your clit. Your voice raises and your face flushes as your body erupts in absolute bliss. I lick your juices, and slowly rise, standing before you. Our eyes meet and I slowly lick the fingers that were inside of you; savoring your taste.
I draw near and grab your waist. I slowly walk you to the sink. “I want to take you,” I softly whisper. I help you on to the sink as you spread your legs. Your pussy is still flushed and swollen. You wrap your legs around my hips and my hands glide down to your ass. I ask you to hold on, and your arms wrap around your neck. I lift you off the sink and lean you against the wall as I enter you. You eyes widen as your mouth makes an “o” while you exhale. I begin a slow thrust, trying not to lose myself immediately as your pussy clenches my cock. I lean in and begin to kiss you passionately as I fuck you against the wall. Your legs more tightly wrap around my waist as my thrusts smack against you wetly. I lose control and fuck you with a primal lust that has been bottled up for years. We moan into our kiss, as I press you against the the wall to slide as deeply as I can into you.
The entirety of our being shrinks down into this moment of crisply shining light as I feel a tingling rise from the arches of my feet, shooting up into my spine. With a sudden shudder my body convulses into an orgasmic explosion as I cum deeply inside of you.
I hold you against the wall, our lips locked in a passionate kiss. Our eyes are brimmed with tears and our bodies tremble. We stay in this position, my cock still inside of you for an indeterminate amount of time. We break our kiss, and I slide out slowly. Our faces are flushed with passion and nervousness. I hold you in my arms for a moment as we savor this moment together. A decade of drought has been broken by your invigorating rainfall. Your eyes light up and ask me how long am I in town. I share that I am here for at least a week. “This better not be the only time,” you coyly purr. I fumble to find my phone and we exchange numbers. I have no intention of this being a one-off.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/10soeo5/the_encounter_m51f28_first_time_oral_cheat