The aroma was both the first and the last thing I remember about that room. As soon as I swung the door open, a rush of that air-conditioned hotel smell marched into my nostrils. There was a single bed, bathed in the dim sunlight through the closed shades. I turned on the two lamps in the room and they bounced a romantic glow into the space of the room. I ran my hand along the royal blue bedspread; it was gentle against the soft skin of my hand.

After I set my bag down, I made my way into the sink area and looked upon the person in the large mirror before me. They say my green eyes give it all away. They say that the lust in them is like an unstoppable spear wrapped in fire. Okay, they don’t say that, but I like my eyes; at least I like them a lot more than I like my body these days.

I’m not young anymore; 43 wasn’t young by my standards at least. I started at my hair, because that was the second most decent part next to my eyes. It was a light red color then, slightly dyed from my natural shade of honey-blonde. It was short, draping down only a couple inches below my chin. I moved down and was reminded again about how I never liked my breasts; they just seemed too far apart. Many men and women have told me that they were fine though. At least they were a decent size at 34cc.

I heard a noise in the hallway and jumped over to the viewing hole in the door. It wasn’t him, but rather a very odd looking cleaning lady across the way. I used the term odd, because she was so ferociously sexy. She was about 5’9” with some deliciously long legs from what I could see. She definitely didn’t belong in this place with the fading wallpaper and stucco. I moved my eyes up and down her slender body and rested them on her tight bun of hair, which from the looks of it, went halfway down her back when unfurled. I watched her bend over and traced the lovely curve of her long legs. I was envious and awestruck. I used to have a body like that, and I wanted her body against me. I was getting a little moist at the thought of running my hands up her skirt and hearing her cum inside my ear…

I broke from admiring the vixen that cleaned the rooms and went back to myself. I slipped my strapless green dress off and continued down my body. I wasn’t fat, I weighed 140 or so, but I sagged just a bit too much for me to get used to. My legs were as long as they were when I was twenty, but a bit more worn. I stood there and convinced myself that I wasn’t that bad. Compared to some of those women that I saw in those “milf” videos, I was doing alright.

I thought of the cleaning girl briefly again; she was so fucking hot. My hand unconsciously found its way to my now very moist inner thighs and then collided with my pussy. I rubbed myself for a few minutes before my mind cleared and the thought of my real purpose here took hold. I quickly slipped my dress back on, high heels as well, and then made way to the bed.

I sat cross-legged on the soft blue fabric. I’d imagine he was about five minutes away at the very most. I was so nervous to meet him, but so comforted by the thought of him in the same instance. The confliction of these two contesting emotions sent chills up my body. It was the heart-searing fear of being in a forbidden place coupled with the deepest of sexual arousal on all sensory levels. I’ve never in my life done something like this; my nipples were rock hard and my pussy was dripping down the inside of my thighs. I was seething with confidence and weighted down by the virgin parts of my conservative nature at the same time. The last time I got fucked; really got fucked, was more than eight years ago. I wanted this so badly, but another part of mind continued to will against me. I could almost cum on the sharp changes in adrenaline alone. My hands were trembling and my legs were soaked. It was time.

I met this man online. I don’t even know if the word man is appropriate; he was 19 for god sakes and 18 when I met him… I was old enough to be his mother. I guess that turned him on though. We started exchanging emails and as I got to know him, I realized that he made me feel a certain way. He made me feel younger, like a girl again, but made me proud and confident to be older as well; he transfigured the word “aged” into “experienced” and gave me a powerful bravado to go along with it.

We exchanged pictures too. He told me that he was exceedingly aroused by me; that he loved my long legs and “shapely breasts”. He told me that he wanted my curves against him and he wanted to learn every inch of me. I think I was definitely getting the better piece of the pie though. My god did he look incredible. I forgot what the body of a 19 year old had looked like; and college wasn’t even an eighth as good as him…

He was about 6’2” –which is a good 5 inches taller than me- and he was chiseled but not overly muscular. His cock was fucking amazing. He didn’t tell me exactly how big he was, but I could get quite an impression from just starring at the photos. He could get both of his hands -which looked quite in proper proportion to his height- around it, so I could only imagine what it would look like in mine.

I just hoped he would like me. I hoped he wouldn’t run out after realizing he made a passionate mistake that ultimately lead him back to his much younger and probably far tighter girlfriend.