How I helped Katie get her groove back [MF]

In my younger years, I used to keep more of my dirty writings and photography online, and kept up with social media more, as well. One of the eventual perks of this was having a group of “mutually appreciative artists” where the relationship was definitely more than a friendship. Now that I don’t live in the Valley any more (or the State of California, for that matter) I’ve focused my photography elsewhere, but one of my regular friends was someone who posted a lot of her own erotic pictures named Katie. She’s an Englishwoman who had really made the most of her workout regime, and kept her middle-aged body in just stunning form, and made a point of using it as the most frequent subject of her photography. We would trade a lot of comments back and forth on how what techniques we were using and how to improve our shots, but you couldn’t deny her fine taste. While we did certainly flirt now and then (given everything else we did, it would have been more surprising had we not!) it never got very serious, or into any sort of role play.

After we had known each other for a couple of years, though, I could just feel a sadness creeping in to what she did. I had moved to Europe, by then. Eventually it broke through, and she admitted she just had a big breakup. I took a moment to console her privately, but I could see she was still really hurting. About a month later, she threw up another post about feeling unwanted, so I sent her another message offering “to throw my hat into the ring” of people who do want her. I still cringe at that. Not long after she disappeared completely off social media.

It was about eight months later that I heard from her again. We chatted for a bit, and I could see she was in much better spirits, and had really processed everything and found herself again. We talked a bit about what had happened, and she let on that she had pushed to try and get some more excitement in her sex life with her previous partner, especially in the direction of BDSM, and he had recoiled and pulled away, leaving her feeling really ashamed. Of course I couldn’t help but volunteer my own expertise in that area, which was greeted with an awful, awkward silence.

Then came the message, “Okay, let’s do it.”

Really??

Yep, really. She was 100% on with this, she had not had sex since the breakup and this was going to be exactly what she needed. I had a quick conversation with my wife to make sure she was okay with it (which she was). After a quick check of our calendars, we set a date a little over a week away, and thanks to a certain discount airline with orange livery, the plan was set, and we had a date.

Anyone who has flown into the UK knows that the immigration officers make a point of asking enough questions to get people out of their pat, standard responses and to provide some detail. Well, I wasn’t inclined to tell them this story, but I did note that this trip was decidedly for pleasure, and that I would be seeing a friend over the weekend, and managed to avoid telling more than that. I picked up my very light suitcase for the weekend (carrying mainly things to hit people with, and a few other goodies) and I took the shuttle over to my hotel, where I took a fresh shower, shaved (high and low), and added some fresh cologne. I saw a note from Katie that she was about twenty minutes away, so I went down to the bar to relax over a glass of vodka.

She told me she would be wearing a satin shirt and pencil skirt, and I recognized her immediately as she entered the lobby. I greeted her with a hug (not too much right now) and we walked to the bar together, where she ordered a gin and tonic and I had another vodka, and we sat at a table and chatted for a bit. I then asked if she would like to order some dinner, or if she would want to drop off her suitcase in my room first.

“let’s go up to your room.” We walked over to the glass elevator at the opposite end of bar, and I punched the “7” button and the doors closed. She took a step closer to me and my hand went to her waist, pulling her body against mine as we kissed, her lips parting and her tongue entering my mouth first. I pulled her tighter and kissed back, asserting myself in the kiss to a happy moan. In what seemed like an instant, the voice in the elevator offered “Seventh floor,” and we broke the kiss as the doors open and casually walked to the room. After i open the door for her and let her in, she wheeled her case in next to the bed and stood next to it. I closed the gap instantly and resumed kissing her, her hands going up behind my head into her hair. I pulled her blouse out of her skirt, and began unbuttoning it. As I did that, she reached back and unzipped the skirt. As it dropped away I finished unbuttoning the blouse and she pulled it off her shoulders and stood before me in an exquisite burgundy-and-black-lace lingerie set, with garter belt, straps, and stockings. Like I said, she has great taste, and she looked every bit of stunning.

She realized how transfixed I was by her and laughed a bit, so I pulled her in and kissed her again, my hands roaming over her body, but now with no desire to undress her further. She began working on my shirt and pulled it off, and I unbuckled my belt. She pulled my trousers down, and then took my penis in her hand as she fell to her knees and took me in her mouth. Before, when we had been chatting, she had been bragging about her blowjob skills.

She wasn’t exaggerating.

The motions, the twisting, the wetness, the moaning, the feel of it…it just simply felt fantastic to be in the hands of a master. She had talked a bit about deepthroating, as well, but I had demurred on it. It’s not that I mind the idea, I’m just not built for it. (I’m not trying to imply I’m comically huge or anything, just with my shape, curve, and hardness, it doesn’t lend itself to that. It does lend itself nicely to other things, of course.) What I can say, however, is that she definitely was not limited by her gag reflex, as I could feel her trying. My eyes were crossing, and I almost didn’t want to stop her…but I didn’t come out here so she could have what she’s always had. I pulled her off, kissing her, and bringing her to her feet. Helpfully, she had put her knickers (panties to us Yanks) on last, over the straps on her garter. That meant they could come off and I didn’t have to deprive of the rest of her beautiful set. I pushed her roughly on the bed and grabbed a condom from the nightstand, where I had let it before. Without a word, I pushed myself inside her, and her body clenched tight. She was the type of person who had many smaller orgasms more than a few big ones, I would learn. She would tell me later she stopped counting pretty early in the night. After thrusting into her from above for a few minutes, i grabbed her arms and pinned them high, and hooked my other arm under her leg, folding her up under me and really laying into her. I was rewarded with an impassioned “oh fuck” before another sequence of orgasms washed over her.

I pulled out and turned her on all fours, and reached into my case, grabbing a pair of neckties, looping over each of her shoulders, to use like a set of reins. It’s a nice secret for making someone feel like they are getting fucked extra hard, and Katie certainly appreciated it, taking each thrust over and over until I could start to feel that ball of electricity in my loins as the orgasm began building. I pulled tight on the reins, telling her I was about to cum. “Oh thank God.” she said, as I emptied myself into the condom, my body shaking, and film of sweat covering us both. We collapsed onto the bed next to each other.

“I haven’t been fucked like that, ever,” she panted. I took that as more a note about style than quality, but I didn’t mind the ego stroke. “yeah…and we haven’t even had dinner yet.” She laughed hard, leaning over to kiss me. “Not to mention I still have all of that stuff in my suitcase.” Her eyes lit up as she darted over to it, opening the case to discover a fiber cane, a riding crop, a small whip, and several rolls of bondage tape. She looked at me, and I walked over, picking up the fiber cane (Great for making deep bruises, and a pretty good pain inflictor) and I playfully swatted her backside. She yelped and jumped up. “okay, let’s have dinner first before we do this.” I happily agreed, and we took turns in the shower before heading to the hotel restaurant for a lovely three course dinner, which I’m surprised she was willing to wait through, and then we got into a much more painful night. To be honest, my memory from here gets a little fuzzier, and I don’t think whipping and bruising makes as a good story anyway.

She spent the night with me, and the next morning I had to take my return flight home pretty early, so we didn’t get to have any more fun (we had stayed up till 3 in any case). We agreed to make plans for another date, and worked back and forth on it for a few months, our calendars not matching up (more my fault than hers), and then, as we had just set a date, she told me she had started a relationship with a local guy that was starting to get serious and wanted to focus on that. I was happy for her, and wished her well. They are married now, for several years, and whenever I see them on Facebook they look really happy together. We still chat now and then, and I’m just glad to see her happy.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/83munr/how_i_helped_katie_get_her_groove_back_mf