That field by the airport (first post) | 2016

So I just found this subreddit... and my lover is away today and I can't stop thinking about him so I wanted to post about our "first time".

We'd known each other a while, in a way. Got introduced at an IT conference years ago, hit it off, helped each other out with some techie stuff, and then never really saw each other again until the same conference last year... This time, when I walked up to the vendor booth to do some testing with them, I tapped the guy sitting with his back to me on the shoulder and ZAP there was this wild spark like I'd been dragging my libido across acres of carpet. He jumped out of his seat and turned and HOLY SHIT it was that guy from years ago.

We hugged, laughed, then got to work, spending the rest of the day finding excuses to flirt, embarrassing the people around us just enough to get away with it.

Sadly, it was the day before the end of the conference by the time we ran into each other. That night I passed out exhausted in my hotel room and dreamed of him and woke up soaked to the knees. I spent the morning finding any excuse to rush past his chair and fantasized about dragging him behind the shipping dock curtains and fucking him on the still-empty crates.

Then he had an early flight, and fantasies were dashed and I flew home in the other direction, dripping for him, frustrated that I wouldn't see him again for a year.

And then on Monday morning, he popped up on Skype and we started chatting. Even virtually, the chemistry was unlike anything I'd experienced in 25 years of sexual adventure. I broke a dozen of my own rules and came for him over webcam, slowly eroding my terror of video just to experience the intensity of his gaze or hear his effusive praise: the way he called me a wild jungle cat for writhing and arching as I cum, how gorgeous he thought I was. He wasn't the first man (nor the last) to praise my looks but the ferocious intensity he said it with made me shiver.

Slowly as we talked we realized that while we live thousands of miles from each other, we often travel for work. I begged him to meet me on a trip a few weeks later in the American midwest. The company was putting me up in a very nice hotel, and unlike conferences -- on that particular trip I would have four whole evenings completely free to fuck him on every piece of furniture in the suite.

When he couldn't make it, I started plotting. I needed to have this man. Needed to feel those nimble guitar playing fingers work their magic on my skin. Needed to feel that spark of chemistry in all its naked glory.

I found some time off. He had a business trip to the south, a city I'd had stopovers in a dozen times but had never actually seen beyond the airport. I faked a conference to get the time off. He bought me a ticket with his airmiles. We started chatting even more intensely, imagining everything we could possibly do with each other with a whole week to ourselves.

When he pointed out that the long drive to the hotel would be torture we started brainstorming ways to get some release as quickly as possible and concocted the fantasy of bending me over the hood of a rental car in some abandoned field just outside the airport. He researched empty looking fields using google satellite imagery. I dreamed of that fantasy every night for weeks.

And then it was go-day. I texted him nervously from the waiting lounge in the airport. When I didn't hear back I got nervous. Holy shit, I was flying across the continent to fuck some guy I barely knew, stay in a hotel room with a man I had zero connection to aside from these incredibly perfect sexual visions. Fuck it though, I'm a tough chick, I can protect myself, and holy fuck do I ever need to get laid.

I sat on the plane, fingering the tops of my thigh-highs, feeling the thin cotton of my carefully selected sundress. I got off the plane, stopped by the washroom and stripped off my underwear and bra. Called him, sighing with relief that he actually answered, had actually gotten on his plane.

He picked me up outside, tried to kiss me but I stopped him -- not where we could be seen. He asked if I still wanted to check out that field he'd found. Turned out he'd taken the time between our flight arrivals to check it out himself (what a gentleman!) and within minutes was pulling into a wooded area not far from the shipping and warehouse section of the airport. I pointed out security cameras, he adjusted the angle of the car a little. He got out, wandered around nervously while I stood there in the dry grass, heart pounding, thinking holy fuck this is fucking crazy.

And then he finished whatever perimeter check he was doing, and walked right up to me, put his hands on my face and kissed me and right then I melted. The...I'd never felt anything like it. The weeks of anticipation, the incredible chemistry, the not-insubstantial technique... The world melted away and my ego went with it. All I felt was fire and skin and heat and sweat and he backed me slowly to the hood of some black VW sedan, the engine still ticking in the heat.

He wound his fingers in my hair, and pulled my head back and devoured my neck just as he'd promised he would so many times. I moaned, pressed my breasts against him, already writhing. I hooked a leg over his hip, hoping he'd notice my bare ass soon and again, just as he'd described a doze times, he slid his other hand, slowly up the back of my thigh, hiking my dress up with it until he was cupping my clenching and unclenching ass.

He fingered me a while, I think, the sunny afternoon was swiftly becoming a blur; I just remember moaning and squirming and suddenly going silent as all the air in the world disappeared when he asked "can I spin you around now?" I nodded, breathless and he bent me over the hood of that car and pushed my dress far enough that my breasts were pressed up against that hot metal and, just as he'd described he would, used his thumbs to ease my lips apart and slide inside me. Inserrrrt was the word we'd always used, and I heard the echo of a million skype chats suddenly coming to life.

More blur: I came almost instantly. He pressed his hands into my hips and built up his rhythm and started pounding. I'm not a girl who likes to lie still so I bucked against him, and came again, and then again. He eased up eventually, saving himself for later that evening it turned out, and whispered "can I throw you up on that hood and make you cum a little more?" and I nodded, half-delirious. I heard the metal creak as my bare ass landed on it, and felt him pulling my thighs towards him, burying his face in my dripping cunt. Even his tongue felt mind-blowingly divine. I remember grinding my pelvis against his face but not for long -- between the anticipation and chemistry and his impressive technique and attention to detail... I came again, and quickly, and he held on as hard as he could -- disappointed that I had cum so fast and wanting to keep going.

Eventually we wrapped up, panting, and hopped back in the car. We talked of nothing of consequence as he drove and I sat there sticky from neck to knees, wearing nothing but a flimsy cotton sheath and feeling utterly delicious and filthy.