“Everything okay?” I asked. “Did I say something wrong or offend her?”
“No, no, she was actually debating whether to go or not and just making sure I’d be okay.”
“Oh, okay that’s good then.”
“No, she’s just being polite, she likes you. She said if she didn’t leave now, she might try to jump your bones.”
“She was kidding, or sort of kidding, maybe. I can’t stay too long, unfortunately.”
“I’m glad you stayed,”
We began kissing.
Perlah smelled good – was wearing a scent I didn’t recognize. Her chest pressed against me as we kissed.
She told me I was a good kisser – I felt silly- like I always feel when someone says I’m “a good kisser.” It’s like saying, “you’re a really good toucher,” – seems odd. Makes more sense to say “I like how you kiss me,” or “touch me.” I know, I’m splitting hairs, but I think it reduces kissing from being intimate connection between two people to being a mouth skill one can be “good at.” Never mind, I wasn’t nearly this distracted by the comment when she made it.
The kissing was nice: sensual, careful, tender, and quickly led to more: Perlah started feeling me out. I love when this happens – when a girl starts feeling me first – before I touch her breasts or elsewhere. First of all it’s bold and aggressive – which is hot; also, it makes me feel gentlemanly, that I didn’t move first.
I wanted to know why Perlah was there, what was going on in her mind, why she was cheating on her husband? I squeezed – trying not to get hard too fast, but Perlah’s hand was rubbing directly on me, I just let it go. I was hard by the time I had pulled her shirt off.
She looked so different in her “girl-next-door,” street clothes and her plane, shiny, white bra – such a contrast to the frilly, twinkly, revealing top Perlah was wearing at the casino. I slipped the bra down slowly and watched her nipples pop into view. I’d spent hours wondering what she was just barely hiding under the top she’d been wearing at the casino. She helped me get her bra the rest of the way off.
We both were naked when Perlah ask if I had protection. I hate condoms.
“No, damn, I didn’t expect to need them, damn it! This is unfortunate,” I said.
Perlah seemed as disappointing. She replied, “I am on birth control, but have to be safe – sorry.”
Before getting dressed, we laid on my bed for a while – touching and talking.
Perlah was unusually unashamed about what was happening – had a very practical, matter-of-fact perspective. Basically, she’s been married for twelve years, had a couple kids, and decided that she would have sex with someone if they were attractive enough – before she got much older and still had her tight body. I guess she had sex before getting married – but not much of it.
I was thinking, “okay so now what’s the reason?” But, that was it – and it was reason enough for her. It turned me on – that she just decided she wanted to fuck someone and wasn’t ashamed about it.
I asked her if she had told her husband about the idea. She said she might but wasn’t sure – she’d see how she felt when it happened. Her husband didn’t have any real problem sexually, other than being boring and “nothing special.” I wasn’t satisfied and pressed her for more.
“Are you just needing variety, or taking out resentment towards your husband? Did you want something different? Is he unattractive? Is it sexual, or, emotional? And other questions of a similar nature.
She seemed to want to keep the issue uncomplicated, and was a bit reluctant to open up – until she realized it turned me on to hear her thoughts. She said that she’d been thinking about sex with other men more and more over the last few years and her sex drive had been growing. Purlah figured, “why just fantasize about it?” She had always assumed she’d have sex with someone else – sometime before she died, and felt now would be as good of time as any.
Purlah reassured me that she wasn’t going to just fuck anyone who came along. It had been around eight months since she decided she might do it, and her only attempt besides me was with the guy who was a bad kisser. Well that, and a “small one” as Perlah later added.
“Wow, so you were really close that time too – I mean you went far enough to see his dick and all.”
“Not true, I didn’t even go in his room. I felt it while kissing him,” Perlah explained.
“First he was a bad kisser, so I was like, okay let’s check what’s going on with that, so then it was two strikes, this guy’s not going to be the one. I never saw anything, and he didn’t see me, I swear.
It was around 2:30am when Perlah left. I was blue – had been on the brink for twenty or thirty minutes while we talked in bed, and Perlah lightly teased around my body with her fingertips. I was praying she’d finish me off, but she hadn’t been there to service me – without getting what she was there for. (note to self, have some damn condoms next time.)
I had to finish to stop the pain – was too frustrated to sleep. I moved a chair right in front of my floor to ceiling window. I looked out over the city. A million lights resisting the middle of night – endless windows to hotel rooms where other scandalous stories happening. I left the room half lit as it had been while Perlah was there, and I jacked off for anyone nearby and interested enough to see – hoped that someone was watching.
After trying on some different scenarios, my focus ended up on Terry, not Perlah. I thought about her being alone in her place, horny and sexually frustrated, and the ways I could help if I was there.
I thought about Terry leaning over, dripping wet, facing me with her huge tits hanging in my face, while she yanked hard on my cock and begged me to fuck her.
I didn’t bother to grab a towel nor aim somewhere safe. I was intensely turned on and in a hotel room, so i stroked my shaft, held back and held back, then let it go, shooting out where ever, all over my chest and wherever else it went. My own come was all over me. I stood up and looked out the windows, searching for lookers, then when and showered.
This brings us to Sunday Morning, 3:30am.
To be continued, probably.