I’d known Beth several years. We worked together in a totally professional relationship. She was ten years younger, about my height, well conditioned, serious and confident woman. You might describe Beth as a handsome woman. Not the kind you’d likely fantasize about.
This was our first time working together at a customer site. What follows started over dinner after a long day working with the radiologists. Our job was to fine-tune ultra-sound images to their collective liking—a difficult task at best. It had been frustrating, and we were both tired when we finally packed up for the day. In the morning, we had walked up York Avenue from the Bentley Hotel. Along the way we had scouted for a place for dinner and found nothing. So, when we left Sloan, we walked up the slight hill on 67th Street to First Avenue where we’d been told dinner prospects would be better. Turning south on First Avenue, we found mostly bars, diner-fare and pizza parlors. Nothing particularly interesting.
“So, what are we looking for?” I asked.
“Northern-Italian or Mediterranean? But not pizza.”
I agreed and our quest began.
On the corner of 64th Street, we both noticed Felice 64 across the street. Beth asked me to check out the menu saying she’d be right back. I didn’t notice the reason for her detour and she was back before I finished perusing the menu. Felice was interesting, but too pricey for our business-expense budget.
At 62nd, we decided to turn back toward York Avenue and if necessary eat at the hotel. But there, we found just what we had been looking for. Anatolia – a small restaurant specializing in Mediterranean cuisine with lots of vegetarian dishes and moderate prices. Perfect! I held the door and we entered.
Wine glasses on the table and no table cloths. An elegant-minimalist vibe. Perfect, particularly for the price.
It had been a long day, and it felt good to settle into the quiet subdued lighting. We ordered a bottle of Chianti and dinner. The wine came first. We wasted no time getting started with the fresh breads and flavored olive-oil.
I began reviewing the day and making notes. Perhaps it was the wine, but I mentioned the name of a young intern that Beth couldn't take her eyes off all day. I looking over my glasses for her reaction.
“Yeah. What about him?” was Beth's reply.
“Window shopping?” I teased.
“Well, you couldn't seem to take your eyes off him.”
“Oh, God. Was I that obvious?”
I didn't answer, but held up my glass of wine in a toast, “May we never stop looking!”
Then, I thoughtlessly added, “Think he’d be good in the sack?”
She blushed bright red.
Realizing my misstep, I quickly added, “Sorry. That was way off base.” Said to the wrong person, a comment like that could get you fired!
We kept talking as the wine relaxed our inhibitions. Before I knew it, Beth began telling me about problems with her husband Frank. At first, she was rather vague, then increasingly specific. By the time our dinners arrived it was clear – they’d been married ten years and she was getting bored with their sex life.
I enjoyed listening to a woman’s perspective on her relationship. So, I just let her talk, which is what she seemed to want. I tried to be supportive and would occasionally interject general, open-ended questions. Soon Beth was telling me things about their love making – details that were beginning to make ME blush. But, she didn’t notice. I was getting hot and horny with an erection growing in my pants.
When we finished eating, we sat back to relax and finish our wine. The waiter topped off our glasses and we settled the check. I was thinking about getting back to my room so I could jerk off, but Beth dawdled over her wine. At one point, our conversation lagged, and I felt something rubbing my leg. Beth had taken off her shoe and was rubbing her foot along the inside of my calf. Slightly startled, I looked up at her. She was looking right back at me and kept up her teasing.
“Something wrong?” she asked.
I was confused, unsure what to say. A shiver of excitement rippled through my body and by now my cock was hard as a rock. No one had ever come on to me so directly and I was totally unprepared.
“Maybe we should go someplace to talk.”
She answered, “Uh-huh. Someplace a little more private?”
She left her wine unfinished. On the short walk back to the hotel, she was waiting for me to make the next move. I couldn't summon the courage to say “your room or mine?” I always had a pint of Makers Mark with me when I traveled. Hotel bars were pricey and I preferred unwinding in my room. Alone in the elevator, I finally screwed-up my courage to ask if she wanted to stop by my room for a ‘night-cap’.
“No. I don't think so. I have to call Frank.”
I heard myself say, “Yes, of course.”
What a letdown! What a tease! I was embarrassed and a little pissed-off, but also a felt sense of relief. I had never been unfaithful. So, I accepted this little flirtation as a cheap thrill – glad it had ended. Beside, I had to call Lori — something I did every night when traveling.
Beth got off on the fourth floor, but then turned back to say, “Gonna be up for a while?”
I grabbed the elevator door and over-anxiously said, “Yeah. For sure.”
She asked, “What's your room number?”
She turned away and I let the elevator door close. I felt all tingly again, enjoying the excitement resulting from her teasing. When I got to my room, I quickly took care of business with Lori – a short call making the excuse that I was tired and still had work to do. Both untrue.
I cleaned the glasses, filled the ice bucket and put out the bottle of bourbon. Time for a quick shower, fresh underpants, and the plush terrycloth robe and slippers that hung in the closet.
Now, all I could do was wait. She knew my room number. So, I sat and opened the book I had with me. Too distracted to read, I pondered the thought of cheating on Lori and having sex with Beth. I did after all work with both her and her husband. I knew getting involved with a coworker was a terrible idea. Still, I couldn't stop thinking about it. At least she was married. I was still deep in thought when the phone rang—my heart skipped a beat.
“Still offering that drink?”
“Yeah. Yeah.” I nervously stammered, “617.”
“Yes, I know.” she said patiently. Of course, she did. Not only had I told her in the elevator, she had just called my room. She sounded far more composed that I felt, but I recovered my wits enough to say,
“Door will be open. Just come in.”
I took off the bedspread, fold it and put it in the closet – folded down the blanket and top sheet, then put a couple of hand towels on the pillows. Beth kept me waiting an agonizing 20 minutes before slipping in the door and closing it behind her. She wore a powder-blue warm-up suit – smelled squeaky-clean and flowery.
She greeted me with, “Well, don't you look comfortable!”
I got up and opened the bottle of bourbon.
“Really! Straight up?”
I poured us each a drink and handed her a glass. She sat down and took a sip. I closed the bottle and joined her. We settled ourselves and silently sipped. The alcohol began to have it’s effect quickly. Beth broke our silence, getting right to the point.
“Ever done anything like this before?”
Beth looked at me very seriously, “I don't wanna get emotionally involved.”
“I understand. Neither do I.”
“OK. So, now what?” she said.
Nice move, forcing my hand. I took a deep breath.
“OK, Beth. Let's agree – Tonight is purely for mutual pleasure. No romantic involvement. No expectations. No attachments. We’ll remain friends and neither of us will ever tell anyone about tonight. No one. Not ever. Agreed?”
“Yeah. Agreed.” Beth said softly, looking directly at me.
I replied, “Good.”
As we looked at one another, we lightly clinked glasses and the deal was sealed.
“What about contraception?” I asked. “Do I need to get something?”
“I have an IUD and I have these.”
Beth retrieved a three-pack of Trojan-Enz from her pocket and placed them on the table between us.
“OK. Is that what you wanna use?”
“You slept with anyone besides Lori?”
“So, I’m OK if you’d rather not.”
She put the condoms away.
It was an awkward moment. I stood and took Beth's hand. She stood turning toward me.
“Well, this is it. You ready?”
I drew her closer to me and kissed her on the mouth. But, she pulled away; her body tense; her hands in front of her against my chest.
I stopped, “What’s wrong?”
“Sorry. I didn’t think you were gonna do that!”
“Beth, if you're having second thoughts, we can stop and honestly say we simply shared a drink.”
“No. No. Just a little nervous, I guess. But, why did you kiss me?! I thought we agreed not to get emotionally involved.”
“It was an invitation.”
She looked at me skeptically, so I continued, “I promise, no romantic involvement, no expectations, no attachments. OK?”
“You think it works like that?”
“Uh-huh. There were several girls before I married Lori. Rosanne was the first. She taught me most of what I know. We enjoyed sex for several years without ever getting possessive.”
“And, you stayed friends?”
“So. You’re convinced this is OK?”
“Beth, we both have our eyes open. We agreed – no expectations, no attachments. We can do it. I'm not worried.”
She turned off the light switch and moved close. I embraced her, she turned her face away, so, I began with a series of gentle little kisses on her neck. As she began to relax, I kissed the side of her face. When she turned toward me our lips barely touched. Gradually, we enjoyed longer, more sensuous kisses. We moved us closer to the bed. I could taste the whiskey on her breath. It was doing its job. Her hands slid up my back, and she began running her fingers through my hair. Our kisses became more passionate and I pressed my erection against her.
It was time to 'get down to it'. So, I sat her down on the edge of the bed. Sitting beside her, I caressed her bra-less breasts through the warm-up as we continued to kiss. She didn’t resist as she eased back onto the bed. I gave her some time before I ran my hand down her abdomen, across her crotch and along her inner thighs. She spread her legs. Drawing my hand back up I caressed her Mons enough to feel it softening.
Her tongue tentatively touched my lips. I opened my mouth, letting her penetrate me. Our tongues intertwined in a delicate little dance. It became more intense as she felt me unzipping her warm-up. It fell open revealing her tits. I softly fondled them. I sprinkled little kisses on the side of her face, then her neck – as I worked my way down to her breasts.
She ran her finger-tips along my neck, coaxing me to suck her nipples. She pressed toward me as I explored her moist crotch. I soon worked my hand under her warm-up pants, but still on top of her thin cotton panties. I could feel the wet slit in her plump little mound. Removing my robe, I knelt on the floor beside her, hooking my my fingers on the elastic waistband of her warm-up suit.
She lifted her butt to let me slip off her warm-up pants along with her sneakers and her socks. Stripped to her panties, she modestly drew her bare legs together. I began kissing just above her knees, gradually moving my kisses to her inner thighs. She parted her legs. I continued my kisses gently pushing between them. My mouth paused over her panties to take a deep hit of her musky scent as I lightly caressed her bare arms. When I hooked my fingers on either side of her panties, she lifted her hips so I could slip off her panties.
Now, I could give proper attention to her pussy. I let her feel my breath on her labia. Then, I took my first taste, running my tongue along her pink slit. I paused at the opening to her vagina, probing lightly, but not penetrating. When I reached her clit, she quivered and gave a gasp. Her legs tensed and I saw her head push back against the bed. Next I firmly probed the entrance of her vagina with tip of my tongue.
“Oh god. I can't believe what you’re doing.”
She was excited but very tense.
“Beth. Relax. I’ll be gentle.”
I first parted her inner labia and then went deeper. Once she submitted, I began to work on her clit — little circles at first. It wasn't long before she was breathing faster, vocalizing, spreading her legs and straining her pelvis up toward me. When I sucked her clit between my lips, her abdominal muscles tightened and she made lots of delicious noises. She was on her way, her eyes closed and her head push hard into the pillow. Hormones were flooding her body.
I could feel her getting ready. As she got closer, I held her arms so she couldn’t squirm away. She was strong and she grabbed me to steady herself as her legs began to tremble.
“Oh, god…” she repeated.
I kept working her clit until her body convulsed and she gave a loud grunt. She held onto my arms as I tortured her through a series of climaxes, each accompanied by a spasm and appreciative noises. When she’d had enough, I kissed my way down her inner thighs, then crawled in bed beside her.
“Oh, god! I've never come like that…”
I quietly watched her for several minutes as the lights from the 59th Street Bridge illuminating the room. But, I was anxious for relief, so I guided her to the center of the bed. She settled onto her back, legs spread for missionary. I slipped off my briefs, got in bed beside her, then lifted her right leg while working my way down into position for scissors, my favorite.
From below her pelvis, I guided my penis along her slit to find the spot. A gentle push opened her, letting my glans slipped in. Her sphincter closed around my hypersensitive shaft. Pushing deeper, I could feel the tight little ring of muscle and her texture of her vagina.
I had forgotten how good a nulliparous woman could feel. It had been years. With my full length inside her, she felt warm and really tight. Beth looked at me and I gently brushed a few stray hairs from her face. She held my gaze as I eased out an inch or two, then gave her five or six shallow strokes followed by a full penetration. I paused a moment before repeating.
She reacted to each deep thrust. I hoped I could make her come again before I did. I watched her face for a sign, trying to hold back as her vagina did its work on me. Thank goodness, it didn't take her long to succumb.
Her body stiffened and trembled as she started to orgasm. Inside her, I could feel it. It was more than enough to set me off.
When emission begins, semen flows into the urethral-bulb at the base of my penis. Every guy reading this knows the feeling. It’s a fullness that grows as the urethral-bulb stretches. The urge to ejaculate builds. At first it can be resisted, but soon it becomes too intense to resist.
This was what I was experiencing while holding myself deep in Beth. I resisted as long as I could, watching her squirm in the ecstasy of her orgasm. Ejaculation became inevitable and I finally let go. Holding myself deep inside her, I shot my first load of semen. As my orgasm swept over me, my body convulsed and strained,
It hit like a tsunami and a quick series of ejaculations followed. I held tight, each time pushing deep before squeezing out another shot of my cum. God! It felt so good to pump it into her. Nature’s reward to insure impregnation. But once accomplished, Nature relaxed her hold on me and my orgasm quickly faded.
First time with a new partner is always intense – more ejaculations, more semen and more pleasure. First-time with Beth was no exception. But now, I could relax my grip on her as a wave of satisfaction swept over me. How strange. My desire to fill her with sperm, so overwhelming only moments before, was completely quenched.
She asked, “Do you always come like that?”
She looked at me in a way that said she too was satisfied. The lovely thing about scissors is that we could stay comfortably coupled as long as we desired. I drew up the top-sheet as the post-coital haze descended on us. We drifted in and out of wakefulness. When my increasingly-flaccid penis slipped out of her, she turned on her side, inviting me to spoon with her as we dozed off.