I had mixed emotions on the drive home after meeting the author of so many intimate stories that was, in part, based upon myself and my sensuality. Here I am, married, and I’m having active fantasies about an older man who is turning me into jelly. Who I let touch me so intimately just a few short minutes ago. Who I want to release the whirlwind of sexual appetite that I have.

Somehow I arrive home without incident or accident, unless you count the drenched panties I have on. Taking a few moments to collect myself I enter my humble abode and a return of my daily life. But instead, I rush to my computer and check for an e-mail I’m hoping is there. And it is. It read:

“Hi,

I hope you made it home okay and thank you so much for meeting today. I hope the liberties I’ve taken was okay. You seemed to show interest in being led overall and with stories in topics like this and would love to show you how a sensual massage would really make you feel sexy, especially if I were to verbally tell you a story at the same time. And, as I have shared before, I would just enjoy hoping you realize your sensual self as I can. When you have a moment just let me know what path you’d like the next story or another piece of information to base a story on and I’ll write up something lickety-split.”

I couldn’t think at the moment and really needed to digest everything. It took about a week before I responded, “I’d like you to write about our next meeting. How would it go and what would happen.”

“Great,” came back his response, “I’ll get right on it.”

A day later I got a response that was inspired. It detailed a sensual massage he was giving me, including my own release through his skilled fingers. He also added that this time he would please me but next time/story I would finish myself in front of him. Gawd, I wanted to be touched right then and there.

His story mentioned him traveling back to my area the next weekend as part of the plot. So when I recovered from my own self-induced orgasm I wrote back asking him if he was actually coming into town on Sunday.

“Yes, but only for the night before I head up to work and stay in Central NJ. Are you interested in getting a massage for real????” came the response a few minutes later. I reflected or imagined he took the time to consider even sending the e-mail suggesting meeting again as it didn’t come as quickly as other responses.

“Perhaps, it’s tempting.” I responded.

“That’d be great, but I understand if you don’t. I just need to know by Saturday so I can book at the right hotel rather than in NJ. Otherwise I’ll write another story when I get into town next week.”

A few days passed as well as a few mild orgasms from stealing moments in front of his previous stories. I was going to pass and not respond until I found out my husband wound up wanting to do something with neighbors that didn’t quite interest me and begged out to go shopping. So I quickly jumped on my e-mail and sent a message to Ken, “What hotel should I meet you at.”

“Doubletree at the Philadelphia Airport. I can get an early check-in before I fly out and get a room number and time at which I’ll be refreshed from my trip. :).”

For two long days I didn’t read any stories, which helped keep my hands of myself. I remembered in his story I was wearing this blue dress and no underwear. I had the dress but wasn’t secure enough to leave commando style so I wore a light blue panties and blue camisole to allow me ….okay him….some freedom.