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The Dream

She had always wanted to try this: to make herself cum for a complete stranger as he watched without touching her. And she'd always been afraid to do it, for all the obvious reasons. But after chatting with him for all those months, for some reason she felt comfortable with the idea. (Her husband would be SO pissed, if he knew.)

After he had suggested that she come with an escort, she had accepted his offer to meet him "for a drink" at the Hotel del Coronado. Her best friend, amazed that she could even consider such a thing, had eventually agreed to come along to protect her from such an obviously crazed lunatic.

What her best friend didn't know, what she had "forgotten" to mention, was the fact that this was not, in the strictest sense, their first time. She recalled his breathless watching and enthusiastic urging when she had first masturbated for him on her webcam. When she was finally done, soaked and panting, she was more than a little bit pleased to look at her computer screen and see him stroking himself to a fine, spurting finish as well. She had watched in rapt attention as what seemed a long flood of his hot seed jetted from his rigid penis.

Now, several weeks later, she and her best friend were walking through the lobby to the bar on the left of the front desk, "just to be polite". The trip over the graceful, curving arch of the bridge and through "downtown" Coronado had been uneventful, if a little bit tense.

They were both (especially the friend) taken aback when he arose from his table to greet them. Much taller than she had thought, incredibly well dressed, and every inch a gentleman. After being seated by him, they had ordered drinks, and while waiting for them, entered into the normal sort of small talk one engages in when meeting with a pleasant stranger. The sun is low over Point Loma, and shore birds play in the advancing and retreating surf line.

The drinks arrive, and he deftly changes the topic of conversation. She found herself telling him, in the most open manner imaginable, how much she loved being watched. How she had responded to his own orgasm. And how much she wanted to share it with him again, this time in person.

"Gina!" her friend interrupted, "Are you crazy? You don't even know this guy!" What neither of them knew was that her very prim, proper friend was getting increasingly excited by their conversation. Her friend's breathing had quickened somewhat (which she was controlling with great effort), and she had started to lubricate (which she could not control, but that at least was entirely her own little secret).

As his flashing eyes and wicked smile were removing any reluctance Gina may have had, her friend was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

"Gina, I'm going home now. And if you have any brains at all, you're coming with me!"

Gina knew that this was the decision point. It only took her a moment to review what she knew to be the truth, and what she really wanted to do. "You go ahead, dear. I'm going to stay here and have another drink with our new friend."

Casting an unbelieving look at her, Gina's friend turns on her heel and walks out.

As she turned back to him, she almost fell into his eyes. Dark, happy, and more than a little bit mischievous. They have another drink, and he asks if she would like a little early dinner.

She demurs, saying "Neither of us came here for the food, did we?" His wicked grin was answer enough.

They leave the bar, her hand on his arm, looking for all the world like a proper, successful middle-aged couple. Even her wedding ring adds to the illusion. He guides her to a bank of elevators in the "old hotel", and when one of them arrives, presses the button for the uppermost floor.

The carpet is incredibly thick in the hall, and a huge floral arrangement is on a console table in the elevator anteroom. They walk through a soundless passageway to a room, the door of which he opens. Inside she is astonished to see not only the large, lovely room she expected, but also what appears to be a professional photographer's lighting setup, which she did not. For some reason, this is incredibly exciting to her.

There is a bottle of champagne in one of those fancy silver-plated buckets on the desk, next to a large photo bag.. Wordlessly, he picks up the bottle of champagne, and with a cocked eyebrow, asks if she wants some.

"Sure, why not?" Sipping her champagne, she studies him over the rim of the glass. This is her last chance: get out now, or go through with it. With a soft, secret smile, she makes her decision.

"Won't you excuse me for a minute?", she asks, and goes into the bathroom. Closing the door behind her, she takes a long look at herself in the mirror. "Not bad for a gal on the far side of 45", she thinks. She begins to strip in the most normal, matter of fact manner imaginable. Just like she had every night of her marriage. But not one of those nights had brought her the excitement she'd experienced in the last hour. She was surprised to see her nipples at rigid attention, a sure sign of impending delight.

Stepping out of the bathroom, she succeeds in surprising him. Her wicked grin challenges his own. So far, the only time he has touched her has been to briefly shake her hand in the bar when they entered. "If he's going to jump me, this is time he's gonna do it!" she thinks to herself. She's a little bit disappointed when he smiles broadly at her, sits on the chair at the foot of the bed, and picks up a camera.

Shyly, now that the moment has arrived, she sits on the edge of the huge bed. Her knees locked together, she covers her breasts with both hands. Her eyes at first closed, she opens them to look at him. With a small smile on his face, he patiently waits for her to begin. His interest, his patience, and his total lack of aggression quickly overcome her initial shyness. Legs together, she slowly starts to massage her nipples.

The little buds stiffen again, and as always, friction on her nipples translates quickly to a tingling between her legs. Eyes closed again, she revels in the sensation her own touch brings. A brief flash is proof that her new friend's camera is working just fine. She smiles as one hand moves down to stroke her belly and her flank. She turns and lies down on the coverlet.

For what seems like hours, but is in reality only about ten minutes, she kneads and strokes her breasts while touching her belly. However, not "down there". Not yet. Until one final tug on a nipple induces what is obviously a minor flood from her vulva. One hand on her breast, a finger on the other slowly traces the valley between her legs. Another flash. Legs parted slightly, she traces the cleft of her sex, once, from bottom to top. At the slightest brush from her fingers, her swelling inner labia moves aside, and a trickle of her own wetness oozes out, down her slit, over the puckered little rosebud of her anus.

Almost of their own volition, her legs spread. She covers her whole opening with one hand, her middle finger pressed down on her cleft. Her hand slowly begins to massage her whole vulva, with most of the pressure coming on her quickly engorging clitoris. Slowly at first, she strokes the moist folds of her pussy, the inner lips and clit quickly engorging. She combs the little lips between her fingers, slides one finger briefly inside. She is not surprised to find that she is absolutely soaking.

On and on she rubs, her ministrations occasionally punctuated by his electronic flash. The flash, mirrored from a reflector on the opposite side of the bed, fires in near perfect time with her rising need. Harder now, she mashes her clit between her finger and her pubis, that swollen little pearl sending wave after wave of intense pleasure up into her belly. Her need mounts, she can feel the gathering orgasm build deep in her body. Her head arches backward involuntarily, her neck straining. Her mouth twists in near agony, and then.....

She simply erupts. Inchoate moans escape her lips as her hips buck in time to the stroking of her vulva. Spasmodically, her hips grind and jerk, slamming her clit even harder into her fingers. Mindlessly, one hand twists and stretches her labia as the other punishes her clitoris. Wave after wave of the most perfect orgasm wash over her. She has forgotten about him, about the camera: everything fades in the face of this most perfect orgasm. It goes on for about two minutes, but it seems timeless.

Slowly she returns to reality. The bedclothes are twisted around her, her thrashing legs having disarranged them completely. Her face and chest are completely flushed, and her wetness is slowly seeping into the counterpane.

It takes her a while to regain her breath (and her composure) enough to actually talk again. "Well, what do you think?"

Without a word he stands up, removes his clothes and moves to the side of the bed. His stiff, swollen manhood suddenly the focus of all her attention. Gently he grasps her legs, pulls them towards him and over the edge of the bed. Widely spread, her throbbing pussy is right on the edge of the bed. "He's going to fuck me now. I knew it!"

"What's fair is fair" he says. And begins stroking his already swollen penis, barely a foot from her face.

"Let me" she begs, but he just smiles at her and shakes his head.

His own pre-cum has completely lubricated his shaft and quickly and spasmodically he comes to an incredibly rapid orgasm of his own. Hot jets of his seed splash across her front, one squirts directly at her wet, swollen cunt. Finally, he sits down next to her.

He asks "You didn't happen to bring along any toys, did you?"

"No", she replies both surprised and saddened.

"Well I have this little present for you." Going over to his photo bag, he slowly withdraws the biggest damn dildo she has ever seen. Her eyes widen with shock, excitement, and a little bit of fear.

Wordlessly, he hands her the huge intruder, gently presses her back onto the bad, and with one hand begins to wipe his cum from her. Some he massages into her vulva, but most of it is used to anoint and lubricate the obscene plastic dong.

Than he hands it to her, and reaches again for his camera.......

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