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Almost a year had passed since Allison walked out of my life and I was beginning to realize that a vital piece of me was missing. I desperately wanted it back. At 46 I felt old and apathetic, lifeless. Barely able to make love to my own wife, I secretly longed for the erotic intensity of my yearlong affair with the flaming young adulteress.
I saw her everywhere: imagined her cock sucking lips on the faces of pretty girls I passed in the street; I fantasized that she was the anonymous woman in the cyber chat room, the slut on the web cam, the nubile nymph on her knees in every blowjob video hidden in the bowels of my computer. I was hungry for Allison’s sweet young body and her perfect mouth, but I could only possess them in my dreams. She was the most sexual woman I had ever known; but losing her had drained me of my sensuality.
My last memory of her is this: wild-eyed and half-naked, the lithe 23 year-old is on her knees, curly red hair matted and sweaty, her white silk blouse unbuttoned to the waist. She is bra-less– exposing firm, orange-sized breasts to the cool air, the nipples stiff and fire-red. Her skirt is a chaotic mess of black cotton bunched around her tiny waist. She is shamelessly sucking my cock in broad daylight in an empty church parking lot. Somewhere back in my car are her panties. Her auburn pubes, still damp from the sweaty fucking I had just given her, glisten in the bright sunlight as she plays with herself while she blows me.
I am cumming in her mouth now–my body is trembling, knees buckling. I feel her delicate fingertips gently supporting the cum-spewing cock resting on her tongue. Creamy-white spurts of semen fly between her red lips and I hear her noisily swallowing thick sperm as it repeatedly gathers in her throat. Tiny white pearls of cum appear at the corners of her pretty mouth. She is so beautiful on her knees, servicing me in public like this. She is oblivious to where we are and so am I. In her twinkling green eyes I see a deep, satisfied contentment as I finish by milking myself into her open mouth. A few drops gather on her tongue and she tilts her head back, mouth open, displaying her treasure proudly before consuming it. She closes her eyes, and then mews softly as warm cum slides down her gullet. She fingers herself to a quiet orgasm and I watch in amazement as her body trembles while she tastes and swallows.
Suddenly, she grasps the rock-hard shaft firmly with one hand. Smiling devilishly, she pumps the last of my jism into the cupped palm of the other. She retrieves a small coke vial from her handbag nearby and drags it through the small pool of bubbly, pearly liquid, filling it to the brim. She caps the tiny jar and carefully places it on the ground. This will be for future consumption, she tells me –a parting gift, she says, to remember me by.
Looking up into my eyes, she gratefully thanks me for her cum meal. Slowly and deliberately, she licks the remaining sperm from her hand and from the slimy cockhead dangling above her pretty young face. She takes her time, sighing softly, savoring the salty taste of cum and hot man-flesh she knows so well. She laps like a sleepy kitten, soft and sensual, then glides her pouty lips up and down the shaft, kissing and tasting the mixture of cum, sweat and saliva until it is clean. Not quite done, her fleshy pink-white tongue appears and swipes her shiny, sperm covered mouth– removing all traces of stray jism. Discreetly sucking her teeth and gums clean, she swallows one last time. Finally satisfied, she rises to her bare feet, smiles triumphantly and kisses me tenderly on the cheek. I smell her cum breath and it is intoxicating.
“I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did,” she says, a cat-like smile on her face. I truly can’t answer her. It was at this moment that I fell in love with her.
“Goodbye, Michael. I’ll never forget you”, she says, as she backs away toward her car. I am standing there, naked from the waist down, speechless and spent like a used condom. I want to talk. I have so much to say to her. But she speeds away, doesn’t even wave goodbye and never looks back.
That was ten long months ago.
Too late it seems, I realized that she was much more than the willing mouth and warm cunt of our brief affair. ‘Timing is everything’, they say. ‘Time waits for no man’, is another cliché that fits this tale of lost opportunity. Allison, I came to understand, was a precious instrument of joy and love and a source of unparalleled physical pleasure rarely found in the middle-aged world of a jaded, cynical and world-weary man. That was her gift.
Each night for months, this final scene played in my head like a personal porno clip: an endless, erotic loop that I masturbated to obsessively. I imagined her delicate hand Kadıköy escort around my cock. I felt the gentle coaxing of her warm, wet tongue and the sucking pressure of her silky lips. I squeezed my cock in vain, trying to recapture the tightness of her elegant throat. I came, and it felt good for the moment–my legs trembled in pleasure; the semen erupted–but Allison wasn’t there to savor and swallow it. She wasn’t there to glide her mouth up and down the wet, hard shaft and suck it dry. She wasn’t there to lick the head clean and zip me up. It wasn’t the same. I resigned myself to my fate, believing that, for me, sex would never be the same.
And then, of course, as in any good love story, the plot twists. Fast forward to the present:
I’m wallowing in self-pity, at work in my office, when the phone rings. I put the receiver to my ear and hear just one syllable. I know it instantly. I’m in shock. It’s her!
“Hi-i stranger. How have you been?” The familiar sing song voice is pure sensual music to my ears and I immediately feel a stirring in my pants. I’m speechless for a moment. I check the caller ID: the Marriott in Brentwood. She’s here on Long Island, less than five miles away. Ten months with not a word from her. I need to know if she is still hiding from me, as she has been for all these months, so I test her.
“Allison. Jesus. Where are you?” I ask, already knowing.
“I’m at the Brentwood Marriott. Got in last night. I want to see you. What are you doing today”, she asks matter-of-factly, as though I just saw her yesterday. I feel anger rising in my gut. Was she playing a game with me?
I am somewhat reassured that she didn’t lie about where she was. My heart skips a quick beat as the prospect of having sex with her quickly two-steps across my mind. I can’t escape her mouth, I think to myself. I’m obsessed. But I am pissed about how she left and there are some things I needed to say before I give in.
“What the fuck do you mean ‘what am I doing?’ Where the hell have you been all this time? Why haven’t you called me? Goddammit, you just walked out of my life like nothing ever happened between us, like I was a piece of shit; or was it ….a piece of meat,” I scold her. She’d turned my life upside down and disappeared like a ghost and now she was waltzing back in looking for a date? I am not too fucking happy.
“You know better than that, Michael,” she purrs.
“I’m not so sure, Allison. How could you just walk away like that?” I want to know, even as the sound of her feline voice begins to calm me.
“I’d rather not talk on the phone.” She answers softly. “Would you come here? I do want to talk about it.”
“I’m not so sure I should.” I offer in pathetic self-defense. I want her again so badly I can taste her, but I can’t let her know…not just yet.
She sounds very self-assured. “Well, you sure sound like you have lots to say to me! How about if you do all the talking and I just keep my mouth…mmmm….occupied with…aaah…. other things.” She giggles. “Wouldn’t you like that?”
She hasn’t changed much, the cockslut, except now she is being a seductive little bitch. She is good at it. I am already checking my appointment book, but I keep up the ruse.
“Oh, so it IS the meat rack, eh? Is that all you really want from me?” Little does she know it’s more than enough.
“You know that’s not true!” she snaps back. “And why, all of a sudden, am I the enemy?
“Your not the enemy,” I admit. “But you sure fucked my head up, you know, the way you left.”
“I’m sorry for that, Michael, but it had to be.”
I am anxious to hear her story but I know that if I am going to allow her back into my life, it has to be on my terms, not hers. I need to know if I am still in control. Do we still have the same relationship? Has anything changed? I thought I’d try a little game we used to play.
“So you want to suck my cock do you, you little cunt?”
There is silence, just quiet breathing on the other end for a moment. Her voice gets lower. “Yes,” she confesses. “I do. I AM a cunt, aren’t I, Michael. I can’t help it,” she responds meekly.
“You’re a cock sucking little bitch, Allison. You belong on your fucking knees when I’m around you, you know that?” I am being as mean as I can under the circumstances.
“Your right,” she responds submissively, comfortably playing the slut role. “I AM a nasty girl, Michael. I love to be on my knees sucking dicks, especially yours. I need you to come over here right now.”
“Why?” I ask.
“To feed me some cum,” she replies without hesitation.
“And if I do, what are you going to do with it?” I continue the game.
“I’ll swallow it. You know I’ll swallow every drop kartal escort of it. I’m just a filthy cum-whore.” Her voice is trembling now.
“Maybe it’s been so long it’ll be such a huge load you wont be able to handle it all, sweetie!” I goad her.
“I’ll drink it from a cup, you bastard,” she shoots back. “I’ll lick it off the floor if you want me to. I don’t care. I need it right now. I hear the sound of your voice and I want to suck your dick. I’m begging. Is that what you want? You like it when I beg, don’t you, you bastard? Please, Michael, meet me. I’ll do whatever you want.” I can hear heavy breathing through the phone.
“Where are you?” I demand to know.
“I-I told you, I’m at the Marriott in….”
“No, I mean where are you in the hotel?”
“I’m in the restaurant, at a table having breakfast,” she hesitates, caught off guard. “I’m on a house phone.”
“Reach under the table and spread your legs!”
“God, your so bad, Michael. Your going to make me do something nasty now, aren’t you?”
“Don’t question me, you cunt. Do it! Open your legs!”
“Yes…. their open.” She reports obediently.
“Slide your panties to the side and play with yourself. Are there people around?”
“Mmmm…yes, the tables on either side of me are occupied. Mmmm. I’m rubbing my clit, Michael. It feels soooo good,” she whispers into the phone.
“Good girl. Slide a finger into your pussy.” I hear her groan immediately. God, she was unreal.
“I’m doing it… I’m fingering myself. I’m already wet. My finger is sliding in and out easily. I’m pushing it in all the way now…” she whispers into the phone.
I picture her in the noisy restaurant, surrounded by businessmen in suits and ties and chatty waitresses, quietly finger fucking herself under the table. How can I resist being with a woman so depraved? “Do you want me to make myself cum,” she asks softly. It is more desire than request.
“No!” I order her. I had made my point. “Stop right now. Lick your fingers clean.”
There is silence on the other end while she tastes herself.
“What room are you in?” I ask.
“318,” she responds, somewhat out of breath. “Don’t take too long. Please. I need sex.”
“I’ll be there in half an hour; be ready.” I tell her.
I don’t wait for a reply. I hang up, cancel my day’s appointments and head up-island to Brentwood.
The Marriott was a pretty upscale hotel that catered almost exclusively to the executives and businessmen jetting in and out of Long Island’s burgeoning hi-tech industry. I’d been here before…with her. As I exit the elevator on the third floor my heart begins to beat a little faster. I know she is here. I know I am only a few steps from my wildest dreams.
Room 318. I barely knock once and the door opens.
She stands there, silent for a moment, welcoming me with her eyes. I am speechless. I step back to take her in and I quickly note that she is more beautiful than ever. Her red hair seems silkier and healthier, beautifully cascading to her shoulders in long curly ringlets which frame her pretty face. She wears little makeup as always–her natural beauty and fine features speak for themselves. Her face is lightly tanned, the skin seamless and smooth, her sexy lips accentuated with a light coating of creamy coral-red lipstick.
She has on gold hoop earrings, which hang precisely at her cheekbones–the glitter contrasting nicely with the bronze glow of her face. Her long slender neck dips into a crisp white silk blouse, unbuttoned at the collar. My eyes are drawn to the opening. Just visible, is a natural colored leather choker, about an inch wide. It is dotted with what look like emeralds and diamonds, each stone at least a karat or more. The green gems compliment her sparkling eyes, and the diamonds, bordering the leather band top and bottom, make her skin shine. If the jewels are real the choker must have cost a small fortune. I am impressed. She sees me staring.
“Well, hello there, handsome,” she quips with a smile. “Won’t you come in?”
I step into the room and we jump into each other’s arms. Barely able to kick the door shut behind me, we clutch like teenagers in heat: groping frantically, revisiting the familiar terrain of each other’s body. Her long neck, her bony shoulders and the curve of her spine in turn slide through my hands as I trace her familiar beauty. Her ass is still tight and round; each cheek fits firmly in my strong hands. She never wears a bra, doesn’t need to, and as her firm, upturned breasts press into me, I can feel the hard nipples poking me in the chest.
She wears a loose fitting burgundy cotton skirt, which ends fashionably just above her knees, and black patent leather Kurtköy escort pumps. She can be mistaken for a prep-school student at first glance, the way she dresses so conservatively, except for the womanly glow that emanates from her face, especially her knowing, sexy mouth. It speaks of invitation, experience. And there is an unmistakable smoky sensuality in her deep green eyes that drives men crazy.
Her thighs press tightly around my leg as she runs her hand over my cock, as though to reassure herself it’s still there. It is already thick and semi-hard. I hold her pretty face in my hands as she traces the outline of my dick with manicured fingernails. Our mouths connect. My tongue slides between her silky lips and she tongues and sucks on it as though it were a mini cock. This makes me instantly hard, and she coos like a lovebird when she feels it. “Mmmm, baby, is that for me?” she pauses the kiss to say.
“We’ll see,” I reply, keeping things under control.
She steps back to look at me. “You look great, Michael,” she compliments. I am still in great shape and work hard at 46 to keep it that way for as long as I can. At 5’8″ I am not a big man, but my 165 is all wiry muscle and packed tightly around my frame. My 8-inch cock is average but very thick. Just perfect to suck and to deep throat, she once told me. It nicely stretches her tight young pussy and creates exquisite friction against her large clitoris that never fails to make her come. My once jet black hair is more salt and pepper now, but my age is what attracted her to me in the beginning, and her appreciation of my mature, virile good looks only increased as our affair progressed. Allison was drawn to older men.
“Jesus. I.. I miss you, Michael,” she admits, as we let go of each other finally.
“I miss you too,” I admit back. “What have you been doing with your life,” I ask, eager to know where she’d been all these months.
“I’ve been living in Connecticut–I’m still with the bank. I couldn’t tell you, but I transferred just before I left. I’m being promoted to branch manager next month, isn’t that cool?”
“Good for you,” I reply, pissed that she was so close all this time.
“I’m buying a house,” she continues proudly.
“Wow, making progress, eh? That’s great.” I wonder how she could afford a house in Connecticut on her salary, not to mention the jewelry.
“Yes, I am. In more ways than one.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Well….uh…I’m in a ..a relationship, Michael.” Her voice gets serious.
My heart sinks a little. I don’t say anything.
“Michael?” She is confused by my silence, but seems to understand. “Don’t be mad at me. It’s not what you think. It doesn’t affect anything between us”, she assures me. “I’m not in love with him…not really. It’s a very nice arrangement, actually. I think you’d be proud of me.”
“Arrangement? What the hell do you mean?”
She hesitates for a long time, searching for words.
“I…I have a Master now,” she finally admits. Her eyes are focused on the floor as she says this.
“A what?” I ask in disbelief.
“A Master. His name is Robert. I’m his… sub…you know, submissive.” She spreads open her blouse to expose the jeweled leather choker. She turns it around to show it has a ring on it, like where you would attach a dog’s leash. “This is my collar. I wear one all the time now. It signifies that I’m his slave.”
“What do you mean, slave?” I want to know. I picture all kinds of S I didn’t cheat on him until he cheated on me. He was a fool and he lost me. After my shitty marriage, I never expected to find love with a man again. I never did….except… with you.”
She never said that to me before. I thought I understood. “Go on,” I say.
“I fell in love with you, Michael,” she continued. “I trusted you from the first day I met you. You enjoyed me for who I was and taught me how to accept myself. I still love you. But I cant have you. You’re married. You have a family, a wife, a business— a whole world that has nothing to do with me. Don’t you see? I knew the truth. I couldn’t let myself be in love with you. You could never commit to me. God knows I cherished the sex—you’re the best sex I ever had, Michael— but it hurt not to have your love. That’s why I left.”
This was sad truth that I had to agree with. It could never have worked out for us: our ages, our marriages. Yes, timing is everything, I understood. Our affair wasn’t about love for me-or so I thought back then. It was, first and foremost, about the sex. Incredible sex worth throwing my life away for, and I certainly had thought about it. She was beautiful, and smart, and fun to be around. And who knows, if it had continued, if she had never left, maybe I would have chucked it all for her. Our affair had lasted a year and we never betrayed each other. No one ever knew about us. There was always the element of trust. I began to draw her connection between trust and love and commitment. I grudgingly accepted that she had found someone who could give her at least two out of three-which wasn’t such a bad deal.
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