Fantasies Fulfilled

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Chapter 1: The Preparation

We talked many times over the past year about you coming to Minneapolis for a “sales call”. At first, there was no business reason. Then there was no time. Now however, because of the recent exports that your company handled for me, we have both a business reason and the time. We also have a date: today. You will arrive on an early (but not too early) flight from Chicago and we will spend the entire day together.

It is hard to believe it has been six years since we met over the telephone when your company handled the export of equipment that my company manufactured. We hit it off right away. We were well into our telephone relationship before we realized the difference in our ages (you were 22, single and fresh out of college; I was 48 and a confirmed bachelor), so the difference was not an impediment.

Over the following months, our conversations started to get progressively more personal, and eventually turned to sex. You confided in me about your love life, and I made suggestions about how to spice it up, based on my own fantasies. I persuaded you to wear thong panties, and then no panties; to shave your pussy; and to expose yourself to your boyfriend in a crowded night club to let him see the “new you” (or maybe the “nude you”). It must have worked, because you ultimately married him three years ago.

We have seen each other several times over the years, mostly in professional settings, and we exchanged suggestive, but not too revealing photos. Our emails and online chats, however, have gotten to the point that they could only be termed pornographic.

Today we are finally going to get together in person, instead of online. We decided that you would come to Minneapolis on Thursday and we would play hooky together; on Friday you would take care of some other business and spend the weekend with your sister who lives in one of the Minneapolis Suburbs.

We spent the week leading up to this day discussing everything from what I wanted you to wear (nothing) to what you wanted to do. You agreed to wear a light colored sundress and I agreed to give you an afternoon of sunbathing and relaxation on my boat.

All I want from today is to see you naked. At the very least, I figure I will catch a glimpse of you when you change into a bathing suit. If I am lucky, your exhibitionist side will come through and you will sunbath in the nude to avoid tan lines. Either way, today is the day I may finally see what I have only dreamed of for the past six years.

This morning dawned as a perfect day to play hooky on the lake. The forecast is calling for temperatures in the mid-80’s, with very light winds, and only puffy clouds.

Chapter 2: The Arrival

Your flight from Chicago is due to arrive in Minneapolis at 8:30 AM, although I got to the airport at about 8:00. I am anxious to see for the first time in three years. The 30 minutes seem like 30 hours, but finally the monitors change your flight status from “on time” to “at the gate”. You told me when we talked the yesterday that you would only have a carry-on bag, but airport security will not allow me to meet you at the gate, so we agreed to meet at the entrance to baggage claim. Another five or ten minutes and I will see you.

Time crawls by. Five minutes turned into ten; ten minutes into 15; and 15 into 20. I begin to panic. Had I missed you? Are you waiting at some other part of the airport? Or did you decide not to come?

Just as I am about to call your cell phone, I see you come down the escalator. You are wearing a light colored sundress, just as you promised. The morning sun from the skylights shines behind you, perfectly silhouetting your body. I see the admiring stares you get from fellow passengers. I can not tell if you were naked underneath, but naked or not, it was an incredibly sexy sight.

You reach the bottom of the escalator before you see me. You run towards me and wrap your arms around my neck. We hold each other for a few moments and kiss each other on the lips. It is a short “it’s good to see you again” peck, but the sweetness of your lips is electrifying.

Let me describe you as I see you. You are 28 years old and about 5’5″ tall and weigh around 115 pounds. The color of your shoulder length hair is somewhere between blonde and brunet (maybe dishwater blonde). Your tits are small; I would say a B cup and they stand out from your body without the hint of sag. I can make out your silver-dollar sized, rose-colored areolas. Your nipples are small and compact, but they are still prominent through the material of the dress.

You obviously work out, because your stomach is flat, and there are almost signs of what can best be described as six-pack abs. Your ass is firm and toned. Your legs, or at least what I can see of them, are muscular and the high-heeled sandals make your calves look sensational and give the appearance that despite your height, they go on forever.

But it is your eyes that attract me most. They are normally a brilliant blue, but can be anything from deep blue casino şirketleri to almost grey depending on your mood and the light.

What I see, together with what I know about your sensuality and sexuality, sends shivers through me.

We engage the normal small talk. “How was your flight?” (Crowded) “Did you have anything to eat?” (Hell no, not for the prices they charge for food in coach.) “Do you have any baggage?” (Just this) When I mention to you that I was beginning to get worried that you had a change of heart, you tell me you made a stop in the ladies room to change clothes. That is when I notice that the “sundress” was nothing more than a bathing suit cover-up with a hem just above your knees, slit up one side, nearly to the waist. Its gauze-like material would be nearly transparent in the right light. Even in artificial light of the baggage claim area, I can see the outline of each breast. The situation seems to excite you because your nipples begin to get hard and more prominent right before my eyes.

We walk towards the exit and the parking garage. Every step opens the slit and shows your legs and a glimpse of your ass. I can’t tell if you are wearing anything underneath. You may be wearing a thong, because I can see no sign of panties as you walk. I try to be nonchalant and touch your hip and waist to see if I can feel the telltale signs of elastic, but I cannot be sure.

You walk with your shoulders back, obviously proud of you body. Your nipples protrude through the thin material. I think you enjoy the effect you are having on me and the other men (and women) who we meet. I know they are turning to stare as we pass.

As we enter the tunnel to the parking ramp, a burst of air raises the front panel of your dress to reveal your perfectly smooth pussy. I have never seen anything as stunningly beautiful, either in person or in pictures.

You show no embarrassment. You just turn to me with a sly grin. “That’s why I had to change clothes. I’d really be in trouble if I wore this on the plane. I wanted to surprise you later, but…god, you should see the look on your face.”

Even though I parked in the nearby short-term lot, it suddenly seems miles away. When we get to the car, I open the door for you and put your carry-on in the trunk. As I walk to the front of the car, a thousand thoughts race through my mind. This was going to be an interesting day.

We drive out the parking structure and onto the freeway. I reach over, put my hand on your knee, and say how good it is to see you again. I leave my hand there and squeeze just a little. You shift in your seat and turn to me slightly, tucking your left leg under your right. Your movement exposes yourself, and I marvel at what I see.

Your pussy is perfect. Your entire pubic area is smooth with no sign of stubble. Your outer lips are full and puffy. The way your legs are positioned, I can see the faintest hint of your inner lips and just the suggestion of the hood covering your clitoris. I have a very hard time focusing on the road ahead.

I don’t know if you are teasing me or not, but I really don’t care.

As we talk, you put you hand on my leg, just below the cuff of my shorts. Your touch is magic and sends electric shocks up my leg.

“How long before we get to your boat?” you ask.

“About 20 minutes,” I reply.

“Please hurry…

Chapter 3: The Marina

…because I really need to pee.”

My boat is nothing special. It is a 32 foot cruiser, and about average size for the lake on which I live. It has a master stateroom, a fully equipped galley, and, most importantly, a full head (bathroom) to take care of your immediate need. One very “cool” feature is that it is air conditioned, so sleeping even on the muggiest night is comfortable.

It is advertised to sleep six, and although I’ve done a great deal of entertaining on board, I have never had anyone spend the night; I have always slept solo.

We arrive at the marina about 9:30 and I quickly unsnap the storage cover and hustle you below so you can use the facilities. It is already 75 degrees and it will certainly surpass the predicted 85 degrees. There are only a few high clouds but not a puff of breeze. Fortunately, I turned on the air conditioner last night when I stocked the galley, so the cabin is cool and comfortable.

I finish getting the boat ready to get underway. We have everything we will need for the day: beer and soft drinks in the fridge, snacks in the cupboards and gallons of water in the tanks. To celebrate this special day, I put a couple bottles of champagne on ice. We’ll mix it with some orange juice for mimosas.

When you come out of the head, I show you around the cabin of the boat, and make the drinks.

As we sip our drinks, you stand in front of the divan. The sun through the portholes silhouettes your body as it did at the airport, and I realize again that, except for the soft material of the cover-up, you are nude. I have been in a constant state of excitement since I first saw you this casino firmaları morning; but now, alone with you on the boat, I feel my heart pounding, and the embarrassing bulge is now an uncomfortable erection. We click our glasses and toast the coming adventure.

I bring you above deck and show you where the life jackets and fire extinguishers are stored (sort of an airline safety demonstration on the water). Then I show you the padded sunning area on the foredeck. Since I bought the boat two years ago, it has only been used a couple of times, but I’m sure you will make good use of it today.

“Well”, I say, “Let’s get going. I’ve got a secluded spot picked out where we can put out an anchor and lounge the day away. Did you bring a suit?”

“Yeh, but I didn’t think I’d need one.”

“Well, you won’t once we get there,” I reply, “but I thought you might want to get some sun one the way out, and people on this lake can be prudish about nudity.”

You go below deck and with your back to me, and in a single motion, pull the cover-up over your head. For the first time, I see you completely naked. Your ass is smooth and juts out just right. You are classically feminine in every way. Your hips are full, and your ass is firm.

You have been out of your panties and bra long enough that there are no telltale impressions from the elastic. From the nape of your neck to the calves of your legs, your skin is flawless. There are virtually no tan-lines, so I think that you will be tanning nude.

You turn slightly to your right and I can see that the cool air of the air conditioner is making your nipples hard. They protrude less than half an inch, but seem to be rock hard. You stomach is flat and it is obvious to me that when you told me in you were going to the gym, you were not lying.

Either you don’t know that I am watching, or you are teasing me as you pinch your left nipple with your right thumb and forefinger. You twist and pull on it in a way that should be painful, but, from the look on your face, is very enjoyable. (I make a mental note of this fact.)

You turn back to the left, with your back to me, and let the blast from the air conditioner blow on your face and body. You tilt your head back slightly and slide your left hand down, first across your right breast and then moving down your tummy and ultimately between your legs. I cannot see your hand, but from your movements, I think I know what you are doing. Your body alternately tenses and relaxes, and the movement of your hands on your breast and between your legs seems more aggressive, and more rapid.

You part your legs slightly. From behind, I can occasionally see your fingers urgently moving around the folds of your pussy; pulling and caressing your flesh until, after a couple of minutes, you let out a little “Oh!” and then stand still for a moment with your back arched. Even though the air conditioner has cooled the cabin, perspiration appears in the arch of your back, just above the crack of your ass.

You bend over to pick the bottoms of your thong bikini. What a glorious sight. I see just a slight hint of the smooth pussy lips, which, just seconds ago, were the center of your attention. They still glisten with the moisture that resulted from your activity. You slip into the thong and turn towards the cabin door. You look up, see me watching and smile shyly. You put your arms out to the side as if to say, “What do you think?” The bottom of your suit is made of a thin, yellow fabric. It is so thin that your pussy lips form a perfect camel toe.

Your tits are small and sit high on your chest. Since they are small (a B cup?), there is no sag. The areolas are only slightly darker than the rest of the skin and your nipples are still erect either from the cold air of the air conditioner or the aftermath of your self-enjoyment.

You put on the matching top. It is made of the same material and hides just about as much. You adjust the small triangles of nearly translucent material. Although everything is covered, the fabric is transparent enough that your nipples are plainly visible. When wet, the swimming suit will be nearly transparent.

You come above deck and sit beside me on the large captain’s chair at the helm. As we pull out of the marina, all eyes turn to you as you sit beside me. You watch the rows of large and small boats, and then turn to me and smile. You do not say too much and, although it looks like you are having fun, you seem to be nervous (or excited) about the coming day.

Chapter 4: The Cruise to Our Sport

Once we clear the marina, boat traffic is light. It is just past 10:00 on a Thursday morning. The weekend boaters are not out yet, and the fishermen have all come in. The temperature has already hit the predicted high of 85, and it will get hotter. We glide around the shoreline at a slow and leisurely pace. I show you the houses and the lake homes of several athletes and celebrities.

You have been quiet since I saw you bring yourself to an orgasm. Now, you seem uneasy as you sit looking güvenilir casino out over the water. Of course, the way I am leering at you would make anyone nervous. I finally ask you open up and tell me what is bothering you.

“There’s nothing wrong. In fact, its…everything is perfect. It is just that…well…no, everything is fine.” You watch the shoreline for a few moments. “No, everything isn’t fine. You may…I may be giving you the wrong idea of why I’m here. When I was getting ready last night, I was thinking of what a great time I’d have; I thought of it as a new adventure because my life is blah and routine.”

You stare at nothing for a while and then turn to me and say, “When I was single, things were exciting. Depending one who I was with, I’d get fucked in cars, in hotel windows and once I even gave a guy a hand job on the el train. Before we were married, Matt (your husband) and I would go out on sexual adventures. Once I gave him a blow job in Grant Park on a Sunday afternoon. We would spend the weekends naked and make love anywhere in the house. Then we got married and all that excitement came to an end.”

After a couple more moments of contemplation, you go on. “I’m here for selfish reasons. I just want to have some fun again. I wanted to come here and spice things up, but I didn’t come here with the intention of having sex with anyone. Its not that you are not an attractive man…it’s just that…well…I am still married. I realized in the car that you and I may have different ideas about today, and the bulge in you pants sort of confirms it.”

“Karen”, I say, “This day is yours. If you want to soak up the sun, you can. If you want to swim, you can do that, too. When you get hungry, we have food; when you get thirsty, we have both hard and soft drinks stocked the fridge; when you get tired, you can lie down in the cabin. If you get horny, feel free to pleasure yourself like you did in the cabin when you were changing. That was, but the way, the sexiest thing I have ever seen.”

You get a little red and say, “Oh, you saw everything?”

“I did. I thought for sure that you knew I was watching. Karen, just being with you, alone, today is extremely satisfying for me, and I would never do anything to violate your trust, so let me make some promises to you about my expectations.

“I expect nothing from you. I do not expect to have sex with you and I do not expect a blowjob, hand job, foot job or any other kind of job. If you feel more comfortable wearing that bikini, wear it. If you want to be naked the rest of the day, then don’t wear it. If you want me to stay away, I will, at least within the constraints of the boat, and if you want me to put suntan lotion on you, I will. It is enough for me to be in the company of a beautiful and sexy woman, and I promise I will not embarrass you or make you feel uncomfortable. As for the bulge, well, there’s not much I can do about that. So I also promise, or maybe warn you, that I will probably have to jack-off at least once today.”

You nudge me playfully and give me a peck on the cheek. You seem satisfied with my assurances and finally relax and start enjoying the scenery. You are incredibly sexy, and biology is taking over as a wet spot forms on the front of my shorts. I know that you see it, but I figure there is no point in hiding it.

We finally arrive at the entrance to my “secret” spot; a small privately owned Island. I navigate the boat through a narrow channel that is hidden by willow trees with branches that dip down to the water. The channel is so narrow that branches rub the sides of the boat and the canopy of trees makes it look almost like dusk. In the shade, it is noticeably cooler. After the heat of the open water, you shiver slightly and I notice that your nipples are again hard and poking through the thin material of your bikini top.

Then, as if a curtain is raised, we enter the small, lagoon in the center of the island. The lagoon is only about three times larger than the length of the boat. It is spring-fed, so the water here is much cooler and cleaner than the rest of the lake.

The owner’s house (the only house on the island) is on the west side, far away from where we will anchor. I checked with the owner (who is a friend of mine), and he told me he would be gone for the week, so there will be no interruptions. Just 15 miles from Minneapolis, we have total privacy.

I set the anchors in the middle of the lagoon. The water is about 12 feet deep, so if you get too hot you can safely dive in off the bow to cool off. If you prefer, you can step off the stern of the boat and go wading. The setting is perfect for a relaxing afternoon.

I get out some snacks and beer. We talk about the things that have been happening in our lives.

I tell you that my life is largely sexless. I split my time between Africa and the States, and it is impossible to maintain a meaningful relationship in either place. In fact, a relationship is distracting because any woman who is putting her life on hold until I return to the country has the right to expect certain things that I just cannot provide. With AIDS and other STDs, the days of anonymous one night stands are over so I have been forced to be satisfied with “taking matters into my own hands.”

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