I’d been waiting for the opportunity. I’d downloaded Tinder, swiped left and right, and finally stumbled across the one.
A man who wanted to just bury his face in my cunt and taunt and tease me until my juices coated his chin and dripped down his neck and chest. And then he’d fuck me bare, a co-mingling puddle of cum under my ass. Hallelujah.
As it so happened, he wasn’t from my area, and only visited every couple of months for work. I probably should have asked if he was married—but truthfully, my need didn’t care. I needed to be tortured with his mouth and then fucked into the hotel bed.
Before we met up, we’d only exchanged a few messages. At 32, I knew how fucking foolish it was but I’d stopped caring.
When I arrived, I was greeted at the door by an attractive man in a loose pair of sweats and nothing else. He had a little stubble on his face and some tattoos across his chest. I’d skipped a bra and panties under my sweatshirt and leggings. As a bigger woman, I was afraid he’d see me and change his mind. Few words were exchanged as he pulled me into his room, kissed me, and pressed me back towards the king size bed.