I had just started blogging, which is a great way of getting your thoughts out there if no one wants to pay you for it. I had set myself up as a down-to-earth cookery guy, keeping things simple and cheap, and I attracted a number of “fans” who liked the way I went about it.
One of them was Lindy, a Scottish woman, happily married and with a grown-up daughter. It soon became apparent that she had a bit of a thing for me. She wrote nice things as comments and sent me gushing compliments when we moved on to email.
As I said, she was happily married, but she had developed a serious crush on this guy she didn’t even know, i.e. me. I hadn’t really done anything to encourage her, just some standard low-level playful flirting.
She started a blog of her own, using WordPress because I had told her how easy it was. She blogged about food too, in a more knowledgeable, less witty style.
We had been in touch for about six months when another food blogger whom we both knew suggested having our own little convention. There were half a dozen of us within 100 miles or so, and we arranged to meet in Cardiff at a bargain chain hotel. One day of convention, arriving the night before and leaving as soon as we liked after business was concluded.
Lindy and I decided to stay a second night.
The big day came and ten of us met in the bar at the hotel, some of them having brought husbands and wives. Lindy and I sat together and had a bit of trouble keeping our hands off each other. She was a strange combination of straight-laced and brazenly submissive, agreeing with almost everything I said and generally backing me up.
She was short and slim with long brown hair and small but shapely breasts. She was wearing a sensible brown floral dress such as her mother might have done.
Eventually the group started to break up as the married ones went off to bed and in the end there were only the two of us left.
“Time for me to turn in too,” I said. “I’ll walk you to your room.”
“Well thank you, kind sir,” she said, also as her mother might have. We made comfortable conversation in the lift and along to her door, three or four away from mine.
Then we stood outside her room and the atmosphere grew thick as that shall-I shan’t-I thing took over. She looked at me nervously, glancing at my eyes and then averting hers because the pull was so strong. I leaned down to kiss her and she flicked her face sideways so all I could get was her ear. I kissed it lightly and then sucked her earlobe. She pulled away.
“No,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry, but…”
I picked up her right hand and kissed it, then replaced it in her lap, making sure to touch her with my knuckles as I did so. My hand very briefly touched the place where, beneath the dress and the underwear, her pubic hair lurked.
“Go on,” she said quite seriously. “Go to bed.” But even the word “bed” caused her to tremble a little.
I went off like a good boy. I thought about going back in a little while and knocking on her door, but decided against it. Instead I masturbated and imagined her doing the same, congratulating herself on her willpower and cursing herself for her lack of adventure.
The convention was quite amusing and some of the other people were interesting, but Lindy and I were trapped in a cloud of longing and fantasy.
At 4pm we wrapped up the proceedings and half of the others went straight to their cars because they could get home by nightfall. That just left me and Lindy and another couple, who suggested going to a restaurant. Lindy looked at me for direction and I said I was going to get an early night and set off early in the morning.
“Me too,” she said nervously.
Along together again, we had dinner at the hotel and then sat in the bar until eleven, when they closed it due to lack of interest.
“Damn, I was just getting going,” Lindy said.
We got a large Courvoisier each and tossed a coin for where we would drink it. I won and chose her room, because I wanted to smell her smells, see her discarded clothes and maybe find the previous day’s knickers to sniff while she was in the toilet.
Lindy was a bag of nerves as we sat and watched TV.
I went to the bathroom and washed my cock, just in case. When I got back she was sitting on the bed.
“I have never known such uncomfortable chairs,” she said, rubbing her lower back.
“Yes, mine is killing me too,” I replied, sitting next to her, deliberately too close. Our thighs squeezed together, we tried to make small talk but failed and I put my arm around her.
“Oh God,” she said almost irritably. “I suppose you’re going to fucking kiss me now.”
“Not if you don’t want me to,” I replied.
“That’s the fucking trouble,” she said. “I do and you know I do. Fucking hell. Sorry, I tend to swear when I’m nervous.”
“Don’t be nervous,” I said. “Just a little kiss.”
I wrapped her in my arms and gave her the biggest, dirtiest kiss I had ever given anyone. To my surprise she joined in enthusiastically. My hands were all over her, on her neck, squeezing her tits, stroking her back and sliding up her thighs. At that point she stopped me.
“I have never, ever done anything like this and I don’t know why I’m doing it now,” she said. Then her hand left mine alone, still halfway up her skirt, so I took the opportunity to slide it the rest of the way and feel her through her sensible pants.
“Shit,” she said. “And what exactly do you think you’re going to do?”
“I’m going to kiss you again and feel you and undress you and lick you and shag you,” I said, aware of the power of dirty talk and determined to push the door open now that it was ajar.
“You bastard,” she said, but not bitterly, as I unzipped her dress and slid it down her shoulders. I kissed her bare shoulders and licked her neck and she shivered. I couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing. I unhooked her bra and flung it onto a chair, then leaned down and sucked her nipples, first the left and then the right.
Lindy was putty in my hands, having apparently said her piece and now being resigned to the inevitable, which she was both craving and dreading.
“I want you to suck me,” I whispered in her ear.
“You bastard,” she repeated as I unzipped and pulled out my erection.
“Isn’t it traditional to take everything off?” she said. “We’re not teenagers, although God knows we seem like it.” She stood up and her dress hit the floor. She picked it up and placed it carefully over the back of a chair as she headed for the light switch to plunge the room into darkness.
“That’s better,” she sighed as she returned to the bed and lay next to me. I was now completely naked but she was still wearing her knickers.
Not having found her yesterday’s ones, I went down and smelled her on the pretext of nuzzling her clitoris.
“You’re sniffing me like a dog,” she said. Then semi-amused: “You’re so kinky.”
I grunted my agreement before wrenching her knickers off her quite roughly.
“Shit,” she said. “Don’t mind me, will you?”
“Now you may suck my penis,” I said.
“Who says I’m going to suck your penis?” she retorted.
“You are going to suck me,” I said. “You want to suck me.”
“Oh I do, do I?”
“You wanted to suck my cock last night,” I said. “You just didn’t have the guts.”
“What I didn’t have,” she started, “was…” She couldn’t find the words. “What I did have was decency.”
“And where has that gone tonight?” I teased her.
“Tonight I have been seduced,” she said. “It happens. And you, you bastard, are quite good at it.”
“I’m going to lick your arse,” I said, which took the wind right out of her sails.
“You… fucking…”
“Turn onto your knees,” I ordered her, and she did.
I gave her a huge, strong, wet lick right up her crack and she whimpered.
“You’re still a bastard,” she said.
“Shut up and have your arse licked,” I said. She soon relaxed and was moving sensuously as my tongue sent waves of pleasure through her.
“Would you like me to fuck your arse?” I asked with mock politeness.
“Get tae fock,’ she protested, lapsing into her childhood dialect. “You are going to fuck me face to face, your penis in my vagina.”
“Oh, how posh,” I teased again.
“There is nothing posh about doing what you’re doing,” she replied. “You’re fucking depraved.”
“And you love it,” I said. “Nobody has ever done this to you before and you can’t believe you were going to spend your whole life not knowing how good it felt. It’s true, isn’t it?”
“You talk a lot for someone who’s performing… what’s it called?”
“Anilingus.”
Anilingus. Trust you to know the technical term.”
“Do you want to do it to me?” I asked pleasantly.
“Do I want to?” she spluttered. “Are you going to make me?”
“I want you to,” I said with finality.
“I don’t know how,” she said, playing for time but sinking in the quicksand of helpless lust.
“It’s the easiest thing in the world,” I said.
“It’s also the rudest,” she replied. “If you hadn’t got me drunk we wouldn’t be in this situation.”
“And you would never know how it felt to have a man’s tongue up your arse. You would never…”
“Shut up for God’s sake,” she said. “Now lie on your back with your legs in the air.”
“I don’t like that position,” I objected.
“Well tough,” she said. “Because that’s what I want to do.”
I assumed the position and she licked my crotch and sucked my scrotum and finally took the plunge into depravity central.
“Yuck,” she said, but continued, and soon she was lost in an erotic delirium, her tongue in that terrible place and loving it.
After a minute or so I pulled her back up, lay on top of her and kissed her. She was reluctant at first, as novices in the art often are, but gave in and kissed as she had when we started.
We were so into the kissing, in fact, that we hardly noticed when I slipped between her thighs and my cock plunged into her dripping wet pussy.
“Oh my God,” she said, as it dawned on her that she had now been penetrated. She was not now merely doing filthy things with someone she hardly knew, but she had his cock inside her and there was every chance that she would soon be filled with his spunk. “Oh,” she continued. “Bloody hell.”
With that she stuck a finger up my arse, which I interpreted as her urging me on, like a jockey digging his heels into a horse.
This nervous, shy, introverted wife with the sheltered life was like a wild horse herself, bucking and grinding and shouting and kissing me as hard as she could.
“Shag me,” she implored. “Fucking shag me. Just cum inside me,” and with that invitation I hurled my semen into her and ground my cock as far as I could into her.
Oh God,” she panted. “You’re so lovely. You’re such a lovely guy.”
