I stiffened at my table as her eyes found mine, locked for a second, then moved on to another target around the room. Had there been a moment of recognition there? A moment of communication? I felt it; but I did not understand it. My reason for being here in suburban Philadelphia at a conference of advisers and counselors from colleges and universities in the eastern part of the state was simple: I intended to get laid; again. Let me digress a bit here, dear reader. Approximately nine months ago I attended a similar conference in Hershey, Pennsylvania and met an incredible woman with whom I enjoyed an afternoon and an evening of truly romantic passion. For some reason, our goals at that very moment meshed so that both of us attributed the electric charge that surged through us when we were first introduced, as a sign that something else - something much more definitive - was about to take place in our commingled lives. We learned about each other during a long, luncheon discussion. We learned that we were both married to partners who no longer cared for the physical side of a relationship and had supplanted that factor with other things - in my wife's case, the spiritual life of a fundamentalist church group, in her husband's case, an overwhelming vicarious experience in watching sports of any and all kinds. We looked at each other quite naively and expected that we would feel something and walk away from it at the end of the day. How wrong we were!Our afternoon and evening were spent in a romantic hotel room with snacks and treats and an unbelievable marathon of sexual tenderness. She very quickly accepted the fact that at my age, actual intercourse was a sidelight to the big event and relaxed into a receiver's role to my repeated onslaughts of oral attention. This, for some odd reason, had become an honest-to-God fetish with me over the past ten years or so. I find that I much prefer to ravish a woman orally - repeatedly - than to engage in any form of genital copulation that would be less than satisfactory to her. After a few polite protests, she understood that I could be fulfilled emotionally by providing her repeated peaks and valleys of delicious orgasm with fingers, thumbs, lips, teeth and tongue. It became evident that she was enthralled with the idea that she could take all she wanted from the afternoon and not be fearful of having let her partner down in her part of the bargain. What I have failed to mention to this point is, she was also black -- my very first black woman of any consequence in a loving, physical relationship.
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And I learned very quickly in that long afternoon that black is, indeed, beautiful; and there is a taste and texture difference, which simply cannot be described by this mere man with a limited vocabulary. When we parted, we arranged to meet again at this particular conference. She would, again, be moderating a discussion panel and I would be a willing participant in the audience - until after the conference; and then my participation would take on a different attitude -- or so we thought at the time. Somehow, we lost contact for a while. E-mails dropped off in their frequency and I assumed that the interest had been fleeting on her part and that she had decided the rendezvous in Philadelphia was a poor idea. I accepted that. She had much to lose in her position, and I was treading on thin ice in my own marriage as my wife had already allowed suspicion about my online activities to take over her life. She had become a private investigator of the enth degree and had actually confronted me with her suspicions. So I, too, was not too certain this would be a good idea. Two days before the conference, I heard from her. She was sexually delirious with the idea that we could have the opportunity to renew our passion and told me she was quite anxious to connect in Philadelphia. I could not say no. I could not tell her that in the meantime I had met someone else online and had planned to meet that woman at the hotel where the conference was to be held. I was, indeed, in a quandary. So, here I sat in the conference hall, watching this new woman walk back and forth across the stage, comparing her to the one I had met some months ago.
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Opposites, to be sure. Where my first black involvement had been tall, willowy and café au lait in color, this woman was short, compact and as black as the inside of Hades. I wondered where my "friend" might be. I supposed she was conducting a seminar in one of the other meeting rooms, but had not yet seen her. I hoped she would make contact soon and we could slip away for lunch to make plans. I had already reserved a room upstairs and hoped that we could arrange things so that she and I would skip all afternoon sessions and retire to our romantic tryst for the entire afternoon. My sordid, deviously dishonest plan was to tell her, then, that I could not stay the evening because of family problems and make her afternoon one to remember for a long time. That way, I could meet my new online partner for the evening and hope that my physical stamina would withstand the attention of two women. But I did not see her anywhere during any of the refreshment breaks, in the halls between sessions, or at lunch when we were ushered into the huge banquet hall. I scanned the crowd with anxious eyes but found only the woman from that morning weaving her way through the tables toward where I was standing. I paid little attention to her and continued to search the crowd for my lost lover. I even moved out of her way when she approached the table where I was standing. She, however, did not move; and she stood directly in front of me and extended her hand to take mine, saying, "I think we have a mutual friend. "The details of our lunch conversation need not be reproduced here in their entirety. Let it simply be said that we adjourned to a small Italian restaurant a block away for some privacy (her suggestion, not mine) and shared an antipasto.
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Her contact was deliberate. My previous romantic liaison had informed her about me, about my propensity for a particular type of sexual stimulation, and the fact that I would be at this conference looking for her. At the last minute, she could not be present and thought that this woman might be an apologetic substitute for me. I was stunned, to say the least. To think that two women had actually discussed me. To think that my performance in a romantic interlude had been the topic of several evenings' conversation between friends. Actually, I was immensely flattered. And apprehensive. And here was my way out; a way to clear the way for the already-scheduled meeting with my online friend. I could very simply be polite in my refusal to become involved. I could easily explain to her that last February's activities were a one-time-happening. But I didn't. Why didn't I?Simple. This woman exuded more sexuality than any woman I have ever met. She was so animal-like in her appearance - almost predatory - that I was mesmerized and agreed to everything she proposed.
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She explained she could only stay the afternoon since she was traveling into the city for another appearance that evening. This, of course, fell directly into the plan I had cooked up for the day, anyway. We returned to our hotel and I led her to the room I had arranged. What was her plan for the afternoon? This was not a romantic liaison, as had been the one in Hershey. This was a deliberately planned afternoon of sex -- simple, unadulterated sex. I honestly did not know if I was up to it. For the first time in my life, I had doubts about what I was going to be able to accomplish. She wasted no time at all in giving me clues as to her intentions. She was wearing a beautiful beige cashmere business suit and removed the jacket to reveal a matching beige silk blouse. Her breasts were huge and stretched the silk to its limit.
I could see the lace on the tops of the cups of her bra, also beige it appeared, contrasting starkly against her dark skin. I am not a breast man. I have never been a breast man, or boy, or teen. I much prefer a woman's nether regions - those regions not seen by many, hidden from view until the woman decides to reveal them for her own reasons. But, in this case, I was stunned.
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My gaze could not be torn from those melon-shaped hills pressing for release from their lacy prison. I resorted to a juvenile phase and whispered, "Oh, my God!" She laughed and lifted them with her two hands and asked if I liked them. I responded in the affirmative, and she remarked that she had heard I was not usually attracted to a woman's breasts. I gave her the short version of what I did prefer and stepped closer to her in the thought that I would now take over the direction for the afternoon. No. It was not to be. She put her hands against my chest and told me to relax on the side of the bed, that she was responsible for the afternoon and that our mutual friend had described exactly how she should go about pleasing me. Argue with her? You've got to be kidding! I sat down on the edge of the bed and simply watched as she removed the articles of clothing she had on. Small brown heels, straight beige skirt, (no stockings), half-cup lace bra, (a later peek while she was in the bathroom gave me the size of 42D), all laid carefully on the back and arms of the overstuffed chair at the other side of the room. Each trip to the chair and back to stand in front of me brought me to a higher state of rigidity and readiness, I must admit. I was totally enjoying the "show" so to speak. She didn’t dance, gyrate or shimmy in any sort of parody of strippers or exotic dancers; she simply removed her clothing one piece at a time. God!Standing in front of me in only a pair of French-cut beige panties, she put her hands on her hips and asked again if I liked what I saw. I informed her that she appeared to be the most delicious woman I had ever seen. Her breasts were large, as I said earlier, but appeared to sag very little.
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They simply imposed upon her chest as a resting place for their wondrous roundness. What struck me, though, was the appearance of her aureoles and nipples. Coal-black, and huge. When I say 'huge' I mean the aureoles must have measured at least 3 or 3 ½ inches across. And the nipples were nearly ¾ of an inch long. I looked at her face (yes, I tore my eyes from that feast) and asked, "May I?" She laughed and lifted them for me so that they pushed together even more and I experienced a newfound surge of sexual excitement. I touched them and found the skin to be as silky as one could imagine. I allowed the fingertips of both hands to slide along their sides and find the aureoles to draw circles around them, watching them swell and crinkle as the nipples extended themselves like black diamonds, hard, stiff, begging to be kissed. She murmured, "Oh, shit!" and then giggled a little, which made her breasts move in such a way that I thought I was going to lose it. Of course, I immediately leaned forward in my seated position and captured a nipple in my mouth, sucking it in as deeply as I could. I rolled the other nipple between thumb and forefinger as I bit and licked and flicked and sucked the other. She yelped and moved back from me, taking her treasures with her. "That's not quite what I had planned, Edward," she laughed. I looked her up and down again and noticed that there was a definite wet spot in the front of her panty crotch. Well, I was having an effect whether I thought so or not.
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She must have noticed my stare and asked if I would like to help her out of them. Of course, I agreed, and she stepped close enough for me to stroke my hands across the expanse of silky material that covered her ass and then around to the front panel where I slipped my one hand between her incredible thighs and cupped her mound, squeezing slightly with my thumb pressed against the bump at the apex of her swollen lips. I could see how puffy she was through the panties, but what I had actually not taken notice of before (and this is truly out of character for me) was that she was unbelievably hairy at the front of her mound. I breathed in and knew that we were about to embark on something very special. Her aroma was striking. It not only invaded my nostrils, it assaulted my entire olfactory sense, bringing a sharp, delicious pain to my salivary glands, which immediately began to produce liquid. They knew I was in for a wonderful taste experience. She playfully slapped my hand away and told me to hurry before she ruined a $20 pair of silk "drawers. " I obliged by rolling her panty waistband down along her hips and when it reached mid-hip, I began to realize what I was in store for. Her bush bulged upward and outward as I released it from its silky trappings. It was monstrous - monstrous in size, not in appearance. There was so much hair! I wondered how she ever kept it trapped inside a bathing suit when she went swimming. It narrowed from a very wide-topped triangle down into the dark valley between her thighs. Her legs were not spread at all and I could not see much else between them, though I strained to look. In one swift motion, her panties were around her ankles and I was helping her off with them.
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I brought them to my nose and mouth and enjoyed the scent and the taste for a moment before she reached for them. I leaned back and held them out of her reach. "No, dear thing," I said, "these belong to me now. Didn't our mutual friend tell you that?"She laughed again, and she said that she had been warned not to wear a matching set of underwear because she would not get her panties back. She leaned down to kiss me lightly and said we would discuss that later. Now, she murmured, it was time for dessert. She pushed me back onto the bed, crosswise, and walked around the bed and actually pulled me by the shoulders to a point where my head was almost hanging off the other side. She bent and kissed me in that rather awkward position and asked me if I was hungry. I murmured into her lips that I was ready to eat anything she had to offer. It may have appeared awkward, but I had the most incredible view as she lifted one leg and sort of threw it across me, turning her back to the bed and winding up straddling my face, one meaty thigh on either side of my head. Within two inches of my mouth and my nose was a sight that gods have been known to faint upon seeing. I mentioned earlier that her 'bush' was monstrous, but what I was not aware of when I first looked was the fact that it only went to a certain point between her legs. Her profusion of pubic hair split into a wishbone cut, half traveling down her pussy lips on either side, but leaving the area of her hooded clit clipped and shaved. My God, I was in for a treat to end all treating. Wasting no time at all, I pursed my lips and kissed her directly on the center of heat, flicking my tongue over as much of her as I could reach.
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But as I moved my face into that incredibly black chasm, I was struck by something I simply had not expected. Her odor. She was not a fan of vaginal deodorants, I could tell; and it might just be that she was not a fan of any sort of vaginal bathing as she exuded a scent something like over-ripe cabbage. (That is honestly the only way I can think to describe it. )I was put off by the odor, and being already in a very uncomfortable position, my mind raced to find a way to short-stop this connection before it became quite difficult for me to continue. I pressed my face hard against her nest, immediately found her clit (not difficult because it, too, was huge) and sucked it into my mouth. I attacked that little nub with such vicious flicks of my tongue that she shrieked and jumped off my face and moved away from the bed. "Gentle, dammit, be gentle. That hurt! She told me you were gentle, not rough!"In the flick of an eye, I was off the bed and standing next to her apologizing profusely, telling her I was so damned anxious that I forgot myself for a moment. I caressed her and stroked her and led her to the bathroom where we found ourselves in the shower in two minutes, touching, kissing and stroking every exposed part we could reach.
Need I say here that I spent an inordinate amount of time on her pussy? I soaped and rubbed and delved deep inside with both wet and soapy fingers to assure myself that the situation I had just encountered would not repeat itself. She never even caught on to the real purpose of my manual ministrations. When I was satisfied that she was as clean as I was going to get her, I slipped to my knees and kissed my way into the valley (as best one can in the shower). Yes, things were definitely better. I thumbed her clit a few times - gently - and kissed everything I could reach.
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She shivered and said, "That's better. " I stood up and led her out of the shower to the bed (still wet) and laid her down across it as she had placed me. Before she could think of anything else, I pulled the coverlet over her so she would not catch a chill and then knelt between her knees, lifting her legs over my shoulders. Now, I will not give the reader any specific details (unless directly asked) about the next forty minutes, but let it be said that I made up for my unconventional attack of a few minutes earlier. With only lips, fingers, teeth, tongue (and, yes, thumbs) she enjoyed (?) 4 separate orgasms in that period of time. Some were tiny little shudders and two were hip-raising, cunt-mashing-against-my-face thudders. She was, however, a never-ending source of surprises. Not only was her pubic growth magnificent, but the two sets of lips which guard her most reverent region were colossal. The outer lips were huge and puffy and soft to the touch. They simply begged for licking and other oral manipulations. But it was the pair of inner lips that I was truly not prepared for. Long, black, shiny, extending quite a distance outside of her swollen labia, they invited more sucking and chewing than I could ever remember devoting to another woman. I simply worshiped at the “Altar of Eve” and loved each and every hairy, puffy, swollen, rubbery, slick minute of it. I suppose I proved her friend right in that period of time, because she was almost crying when I was finished. And, I did learn the source of the odor.
It appears that when she becomes aroused, her body chemistry gets all screwed up and the nectars she leaks are a bit less than appetizing. She was already excited when we arrived at the room, so she had been "fermenting" a bit inside her panties, I suppose. While her taste was not the best I have ever experienced, her physical reactions made up for it, and I persevered. And, again, without detail, yes she did provide other adventures during the afternoon. Having a woman that size sitting astride your hips and rocking back and forth while her immense breasts sway in front of your mouth and eyes is an experience I would not trade for anything. She seemed to find some perverse pleasure in straddling me as I lay on the bed or, later, on the floor. Her magnificent mammaries were not only a source of pride for her; they were deadly weapons. She allowed them to swing and sway back and forth as she rode me with long raises and fallings of her ample buttocks and every time I made the attempt to touch them, she swatted my hands away; allowing only my mouth to make contact. Well, when you put your face in the line of fire, so to speak, of those two melons, you can expect some smacks and thuds along your face; and I received many. Apparently, with sincere concentration on finding her triggers, I helped her to experience her very first (or so she said) vaginal orgasm later in the session. Her face registered such surprise I had to believe her and made certain to press the advantage when she was in her calming-down stage after that explosion within her. Yes, she did give me oral satisfaction and seemed to love it as much as I love my pussy-eating. She was rather experienced in that area, so it seemed. Little touches and nips that I had not experienced for a long time. And, whether you want to know or not, she insisted on my cumming in her mouth.
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Different, though…. she licked and sucked and stroked until I told her I was on the edge, then she just extended her tongue and stroked me into climax, catching the spurts on the flat of her tongue and holding it there until I was finished. Then she pulled me into her mouth again and swallowed while I began to soften. She sucked and licked and vacuumed me clean to a depth I was not prepared for. She actually seemed to enjoy that. By the time we had rested, cuddled, touched, tickled, licked and sucked each other to share a new-found relationship, it was nearly 5:00 and she said she had to leave to prepare for her evening session. I was exhausted, really, and wondered in the back of my mind if I would be "up" for the other session I had scheduled. I kissed her and slipped my thumb deep inside her pussy and brought her to one additional, subtler climax before she went into the bathroom. It was during this time that I went through her things, looking at the label in her bra, etc. I must admit I had to peek into her wallet to see if she had been truthful about her name and her age. She had been. Now that I had become accustomed to her own particular scent, I was a bit sorry that she was leaving me, even though I was to have (I thought) another new and different experience later in the evening. I wondered how I could get the smell of sex out of the room. The windows did not open and I was afraid that the woman I had agreed to meet later would immediately realize this was some sort of den of iniquity and give me the short version of a friendship. I figured I could run out and pick up some scented candles and place them around.
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See, always thinking!When she came out of the bathroom, she was still nude, but had showered again and had used the hair dryer supplied by the hotel to make herself look beautiful for her other presentation. I watched her dress, piece by piece, and realized she would not have any panties to wear for the evening, since I was not about to give up the pair I had taken from her. At just about that moment, she slipped her hand into a side pocket of her purse and pulled out another pair of panties - large, business-like briefs - to wear during the remainder of the conference. I laughed out loud, and she just said, "Always be prepared for anything. "I had finished dressing, myself, by this time and we walked to the elevators together. We discussed our mutual friend, and I was amazed that we had gone the entire day without actually using names. Other than the fact that I had seen her name on the program and had read the nametag she was wearing, I had never heard her use her name or introduce herself to me except to say we had a "mutual friend" without ever using her name. Once inside the elevator, I asked if this afternoon had been satisfactory for her. In answer, she moved against me, kissed me hard, grabbed my cock in my pants and pulled on it while squeezing the head. I was so tired; there was little physical reaction except for a chill in my thighs. She kissed me again and said, "Yes, Edward, yes; and I wish it could have gone on for a much longer time. Can we get together again?" I held her for a half-second and asked how that might be arranged. She said she would make every attempt to contact me after the conference was finished and she had gone back home. There would be other opportunities, she was sure. She gave me her business card with her e-mail address on it and asked me to drop her a line if I wanted to see her again.
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We left the elevator and went our separate ways, I to buy candles at the gift shop and she to prepare for the short drive into the city. It wasn't difficult to find four jasmine scented candles and take them back to the room and light them. I sat them in ashtrays and glasses from the bathroom and let them burn while I showered and cleaned up the room. I was to meet my online friend at 6:30 in the bar just off the lobby. Well, if my body would stand up to this, it would stand up to anything. Please look for chapter 2, which will be posted in the near future (I hope). .
