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No Holes Barred

No Holes Barred

After exchanging a few emails, Krystal and I agreed to meet at the Starbucks near my house. I sent a reminder note the evening before, and she responded the next morning with a note reminding me that she liked to have all her holes played with. She said she would be coming from her job about 30 miles away and would arrive between 6:30 and 7:00, depending on traffic. She needed to leave by 9:00. We wouldn’t have a lot of time, so she thought it was best to tell me up front what she liked.
I spent the day running chores and enjoying the anticipation of meeting her. I expected to be able to recognize her from her pictures, but I have learned that photos are not always accurate. I had looked closely enough to see if the photos looked sexy. In one of them, she was wearing a one-piece, crotchless bustier and kneeling on a bed. In another, she lay on her stomach, her shapely bottom naked and inviting. Although she looked a little overweight, she had curves, and her breasts seemed large, so large that I wondered if they had been photo-shopped or surgically enhanced. She was clearly sexy, with a beautiful face and shapely legs. After my chores, I showered, refreshed my memory with a quick look at the photos, grabbed a book, and headed to the rendezvous site.
I arrived at Starbucks a little early, ordered a mint tea, and read a book on the patio of the coffee shop while I waited. On occasion, I looked up at the passers-by, who mainly ignored me. Most of them were women, under 30 years old, dressed in jeans, and clearly uninterested in the gray-haired man with a book. After I had waited fifteen minutes or so, a woman crossed the patio from the direction of the parking lot, stopped a couple yards in front of my table, and met my eyes when I looked up at her. She said, “Matt?” Her hair was long and straight, a lighter brown than I had expected from the photos. She had a little extra padding, but was still curvy, which appealed to my aesthetic. She wore a clingy but modest blue dress, a one-piece with what appeared to be ample fabric dr*ped over her breasts in a curving neckline. It was appropriate for work yet still sexy. It was my day off, so I had dressed casually in a light tan polo shirt, dark tan shorts, and sandals.
“And you must be Krystal.” I stood, extending my hand, pleased that she had shown up, pleased that she resembled her photos, and pleased that her smile was charming. She took my hand, leaned close to me, kissed the air beside my ear, and lightly touched her cheek to mine. I followed her lead, then offered the seat closest to mine, and said, “May I get you something to drink?”
“A tall vanilla mocha.” I saw that she was pleased that I had offered.
I marked my place in the book with my reading glasses and went inside. The same clerk who had waited on me fifteen minutes earlier now stumped me with the simple question, “Hot or iced?” I obviously had no idea and muttered a few sounds of confusion and uncertainty, as if they could somehow help me remember something I had never known. The clerk helped me out by suggesting that she could wait while I went to find out. Soon I sat beside Krystal with the correct hot drink for her.
She remarked on the book I was reading and wondered what it was about.
“I’ve just started it, but so far it’s about dancing.” It was actually about stripping both as a dance form and as a vehicle for obtaining power over men, but I hadn’t read enough to know that. I asked if she was familiar with it or the author.
“I know about her, but I haven’t read the book.”
Krystal had heard of the author when she was a university student majoring in dance. Asked if she had been a professional dancer, Krystal informed me that if someone wants to be a professional dancer, she doesn’t go to college: She joins a dance company. She didn’t dance professionally, and she didn’t teach dance. She was a manager in a store.
She asked, “Do you live in Desert Hot Springs?”
“I do, about a mile over there,” I said pointing at an angle to the right, “and I work about a half mile that way;” I pointed over my right shoulder.
“Why did you choose my profile?”
“I wrote to you because you said you want NSA sex. You aren’t getting enough at home, and you want to have a lot more. I look over all the new profiles in my age range and choose the ones that look promising. But what made me want to meet you was how you answered my email. It was a short but direct note with a couple of good photos.”
While I said this, she looked ready to interrupt me, although she was polite enough to wait for the end of the thought. “I just want to clear something up. I know that my profile made it sound like there was trouble at home, but that’s not the case. He’s been forced to travel a lot for his job and he’s been putting in long hours, even when he’s home. He was the one who suggested that I try posting my own profile and go out without him.”
“I see. I’m glad I don’t have to worry about an irate husband tracking us down. I liked your photos and your directness about what you wanted. I really liked the face pic, but I’d already made up my mind to see you after your first note. I liked the part, too, about all the holes. ‘No holes barred’ is what I like. What made you decide to see me?”
“You were one of the first to write me, but I also noticed that you have been on SLS for a long time. That was one of the things I looked for. I wanted someone who wasn’t a rookie, because rookies flake out or get too nervous or fall in love. What kind of experience do you have in the lifestyle?”
“Well, I started out with a girlfriend on another site back in 2004, but I didn’t care for the site. More of a picture book and social club than a contact site for swingers. After I broke up with her, a couple I played with told me about SLS, and I liked it. My experience is with women, single and married, couples, group sex, just about anything is good for me. Many of my couples are men who want to watch their wives with another man and wives who want their husbands to watch them get off. Some of the women are single, most are married and playing with permission, and a few are stepping out without permission. It's all OK by me. I’m not the morality police. I say in my profile that I’d like to find a partner in the lifestyle, but it’s not a priority for me. In fact, I think I just tell myself that because I think I have to be looking for a commitment. I’ve been active around 8 years now, most of the time without a steady girlfriend. I’ve managed to work past the jitters.”
“When I saw your email address, I thought, ‘Here’s a man who knows what he wants.’” Because she was a free member, she couldn’t send more than a few emails per day and couldn’t see my private pictures. After making sure that she was real, I sent a couple pictures on yahoo. My email address clearly indicates that I am a single male in the lifestyle.
“Yeah, when I chose it, I was surprised it was still available. I thought I’d have to add some number like 389417.” Krystal laughed.
We talked for a while longer about general experiences in the lifestyle. We both laughed about the husband who sets up his wife without her knowledge, the wife who never seems to be able to make it to the dates, the numerous phantasms who never materialize at the meeting place. I found her to be intelligent, interesting, a little shy, but aware of what she wanted. I would have been happy to chat away the entire evening with this charming woman, but we had met for another purpose. After fifteen minutes or so, I asked if she was interested in going to my place. Immediately, she affirmed that she was. “Perhaps you’d like to finish your coffee?”
“I can sip it in the car.”
She followed my grey sedan in her black SUV across the K-Mart parking lot, left on a main road, right on another, left on a third, and right into my driveway. I parked in the garage, but she parked in the drive. I saw that she was busy with some task on what looked like an electronic device, so I waited. My guess was that she was texting my address, probably to her husband or a trusted girlfriend. I appreciated her experienced precaution. When I saw that she had finished the task, I walked to her door and opened it for her. We went through the garage into the house. I gestured toward the living room and said, “Have a seat.” As I deactivated the alarm, I offered her something to drink, but she said she was still working on her coffee. When I went to join her on the couch, she was sitting smack dab in the middle of it, her purse on the right side and her keys on the left, somehow leaving no space for me to sit. I looked from the purse to the keys, back to the purse, over my shoulder at the free space on the loveseat, and back at her. She looked right and left, then moved the purse to the side with the keys. I sat beside her where the purse had been, close against her right thigh and arm.
“You have finches,” she said.
“Yes, they’re zebra finches.”
She looked at the DVD collection to her right. “You like Frasier.”
“I’m missing season four. I also have The Simpsons’ first ten seasons. I got them mainly because I was in college and wanted something short and entertaining that wouldn’t require a lot of thought.” I pointed at my massage table leaning against the side of the loveseat across the room. “And that’s the massage table. Do you get massages?”
“Not too often. Rare.”
While talking about random subjects, I lightly stroked her right arm from shoulder to wrist and gave a few quick nibbles to her bare shoulder. Then I took her arm and moved it toward me. When I let go, she held the forearm over my thigh with her palm up, suspended in the air. I told her, “You can put it down. I’m not going to read your palm.” It dropped to my thigh. Soon, I was stroking her arm, thigh, belly, while my other arm swept under her hair and cupped the back of her neck, moving her mouth to mine. We kissed, her soft lips to my lips, wet tongues circling each other, my eyebrows bumping into her glasses.
I adjusted my position so that I stood before her, bending down to her face. When I started to remove her glasses, she said, “I won’t be able to see.”
“You’ll just have to go by feel.”
I straddled her lap, kneeling on the couch, kissing her passionately but gently, pressing my hard dick into her belly. Her head tilted back as I leaned over her. She kissed me with soft, moist lips; her lipstick felt smooth and sensuous; her tongue explored my mouth. I stood up, pulled off my shirt, and tossed it to the floor. I adjusted her dress to expose more of her shoulders, and set myself to kissing and nibbling at her neck, lips, and ears in lingering, gentle, yet impassioned caresses which she returned eagerly. She moaned softly and breathed more heavily. I lost track of time, entranced by the feel of her lips, her rhythmic panting which was becoming shallower and quicker. Eventually, I stood again and removed my pants and underwear, now completely naked before her. She still wore all of her clothes. I helped her to her feet. She took off her dress, grabbing it at the hem and pulling it over her shoulders and head. I love the stretchy, form-fitting fabric that clings to a woman’s curves yet can be so easily removed: No buttons, no zippers, no tearing.
I took in the expanse of white, lace-fringed fabric that still covered her breasts. It was not a bra, but like a half-slip, only worn above the waist. I had thought that the dress was gathered generously across her chest, but now it was clear that most of the mass was her breasts. The pictures were not photo-shopped, after all. Amazed at the size, I slipped the fabric over them. She started to say that I wouldn’t be able to remove it that direction. I had intended to pull it aside so that I could play with her nipples, but once it passed her breasts, it dropped easily over her hips onto the floor, its rightful place. Anything that could make it past her breasts could easily pass her hips.
Her enormous breasts were before me, within easy reach, each as big as a toddler’s head. She sat down on the couch. Immediately, I was kneeling between her open legs. My lips sucked her left nipple; my hands, spread apart like a priest reading a benediction, cupped the beautiful breadth of her breasts. She was moaning as if chanting to arouse her inner goddess. I pulled myself away long enough to kiss her on her mouth, moved to the other breast, and sucked and squeezed and stroked it, from time to time reaching over to the other nipple to gently twist and pinch it. Meanwhile, I listened to her drone her pleasure, and the sound of her pleasure increased my excitement. Again, I kissed her mouth, moved back and forth between those breasts, and sucked and squeezed and stroked, occasionally reaching over and playing with both at once.
Then, already on my knees, I pulled her panties down and off as she lifted her hips off the couch. Her pubic hair was trimmed short in a “landing strip.” I nestled it with my nose and tugged on it with my teeth before licking a long stroke up her belly, veering to her left nipple and sucking it briefly. As I repeated the trip, I felt the softness of her fur on my mouth and the scr*pe of pubic whiskers where she had shaved, and ended on her right nipple. The third journey ended at her mouth. My fourth visit to her patch, I licked from it to each side of her pelvic floor, languidly lingering on each side of her vagina, and once moving my wet tongue lightly across her pussy lips. She said, “You’re teasing me.”
I smiled at her and traced small wet circles on her inner right thigh from her crotch to her knee and back again. I repeated myself on her left thigh. Only after doubling the kisses on each side and traveling to her breasts again did I finally, softly part her pussy lips with my tongue. Tasting her juices, feeling the thick wetness of her lubrication, I trembled in delight from toes to hair. As I slobbered and lapped like a puppy at her pussy lips, my nose, now wet with her juices, nuzzled her clit. With slow strokes, I moved my tongue through the valley between her lips to her clit, and I licked, flicked, sucked, circled, and pressed it. She was moaning and groaning in obvious and noisy delight, sliding forward on the couch to press her pussy into my face.
I, still kneeling, my body folded into a Z-shape with my butt over my heels and my face in her pussy over my knees, began to straighten my hips and back as I kissed my way up her belly, between those incredible breasts, across her neck and chin, on a mission to find and kiss her mouth again. My cock rested against her pussy lips near her clit, and I took a long, tongue-filled kiss from her mouth as my cock pressed lightly against her as if about to enter. Instead, I bent down again to lick from her pussy, over her clit where I rested my tongue and pressed it lightly into her hood, across her belly where I circled her naval, between those fantastic breasts where I resisted the temptation to nibble on those hard nipples, to her left earlobe which she moved forward to my lips. My cock rested against the wet upper folds of her pussy. I could feel heat pouring from her pelvis, her juices wetting the tip of my cock. I paused to enjoy this moment of anticipation, of eager delay, of uncertainty. Which way now, in or out? I wasn’t sure what I would do next. While savoring the sensation at the gate of paradise, I continued to massage her earlobe with my lips, listening with growing excitement to her shallow breathing; she sounded like she had run a mile and a half. She adjusted her position and slid forward. The crown of my cock entered her, but then I moved away in sync with her so that she didn’t take my whole length. I could tell the teasing had increased her urgency to feel all of me inside her. Instead, I swayed my hips from side to side, in a motion like a rocking ship, then in circles, and from low to high, pointing my cock at different angles inside her opening, feeling the sweetness of her invitation, the eagerness of her desire. She was groaning louder and trying to slide forward as I held her hips in place. Again, I bent down, pulling my cock away from her, to taste her juices before making the breath-taking journey back to her mouth. She was waiting open for me. As I reached her mouth with mine and pressed in on top of her, my cock paused two seconds against her open pussy before it slid easily and snuggly into her. I was in the euphoria of unconditional pleasure, when every cell focuses on the ecstasy of contact, when the breath stops, the eyes roll up, the head bends back, and the transfixed face is open-mouthed in rapture. Finally, I exhaled. “Aahh.”
My hips rotated and my cock, held sweetly in her pussy, moved in and out. I alternated between stroking inside her and holding still while kissing her mouth or sucking her nipple. When I felt that I was close to coming, I slowly pulled out, still kissing her. Standing up, I offered her my open hands. She took them in hers and stood in front of me.
“Let’s go to the bed,” I said. Then I turned my back to her, releasing one hand and swinging her other hand and arm over my head, draping it around my shoulder, pulling her breasts and belly against my back and butt. “You don’t have your glasses,” I reminded her, “so I will lead you.”
Krystal giggled and put her free arm around my waist as we walked together to the bedroom. Turning on the light was not necessary because enough light from the living room lamp traveled down the hallway to provide a soft glow. I went to the bed and pulled back the comforter, inviting her to lie down. I crossed to the parson’s table beneath the window on the opposite side of the bed, opened a scented candle, and tried to light it. However, the lighter wouldn’t work. After three or four attempts, I said, “Oh, well,” and abandoned the project. I slid into bed beside her.
She rolled onto her side and kissed me. Pulling up on all fours, she moved toward my cock. I had been eagerly anticipating receiving oral sex from her ever since our first kiss. I had known immediately that the quality of her kiss promised an excellent blowjob. I was not disappointed. She moved slowly and deliberately to take the crown in her mouth, then she slid down the shaft. I could feel the softness of her lips on my shaft, the movement of her tongue, just the right amount of steady pressure, her hand near the root. I couldn’t keep track of what she was doing, so I simply let myself be swept away in the pleasure of her lips and tongue. When she adjusted her position so that she crouched between my legs, the delicate movement of her tongue on the underside of my cock was exquisite. In this position, her breasts were pressing onto and lifting from my thighs as her mouth moved down and up my shaft. The combination of sensations on my cock and thighs was enthralling. Then she began to lick me from the balls to the crown and back again, over and over, then engulfing my cock, she sucked as far down as she could and swirled her tongue on the underside. All too soon, she left my cock to straddle me. Krystal pushed her pussy onto my erection and started pumping up and down. The feel of her hungry hole was as delightful and exciting as it had been on the couch. While still pumping with me deep in her pussy, she leaned forward and let those enormous breasts hang down to my waiting mouth. I started sucking on her right nipple, and grasped the tit between my hands. My fingers, fully extended, still did not wrap all the way around it. I squeezed it firmly, turned it between my palms as if warming them, and massaged it while sucking the nipple and pumping her pussy. I alternated between the tits, and from time to time let them hang to my ears as I crunched my abs to rise off the bed,simultaneously pushing my cock into her. After a few minutes, I could feel my cum rising in my balls, getting ready to make the journey; the one-two punch of the great blowjob followed by the plush pussy on my cock, amplified by the feel of those breasts on my face, got me ready to shoot really fast. “Stop now, or I’ll cum,” I warned, and she pulled off me. I was breathing heavily, and took a moment to calm down while she lay down beside me.
I was soon licking her pussy again. I loved the taste of it, but with her legs over my shoulder, that other prize that she had promised was right there in front of me: I began to massage her asshole, first with my fingertip, then with my tongue, lightly and quickly at first, still taking side trips to her pussy and clit, then a little harder and longer on her asshole. I pushed her legs toward her shoulders, my hands behind her knees, so that her hips rotated forward, making her asshole easily accessible. Soon, I buried my tongue in her hole. She was remarkably clean there, and her hole easily let my tongue explore inside. I must have spent five minutes exploring it while she was gasping and groaning excitedly. I rolled over to my nightstand, grabbed the bottle of lube, and rolled back to finger her ass and fill it with lube while I ate her pussy and nuzzled her clit with my nose. My index finger fucked her ass and my thumb fucked her pussy, while my mouth caressed her clit. I was in heaven, and judging from her sounds and squirms, she must have been on the same cloud. Moving her legs up toward her shoulders again, I turned her ass up into the air. I licked and fingered her asshole at the same time. Then I knelt before her gorgeous butt with her legs spread out on my elbows, and I felt my cock go easily into her ass. She was making even more noise now, and I rode her ass with abandon. I reached one of my hands down to her clit, placed the heel of my palm against it, and shook it rapidly and gently, trying to imitate the vibrator that was too far away to grab in this moment of passion. The way she got louder told me she loved the sensation. I managed to last longer than I thought I would, given all the glorious foreplay she had blessed my cock with. Finally, I was grunting so loudly all my neighbors probably heard me. I emptied my cum into her ass, shooting load after load—no idea how many, but it seemed to last for a long time. I kept moving after coming, but more slowly, enjoying the post-ejaculation sensations, still inside her. Finally, I collapsed panting on top of Krystal.
She asked, “Did you come in my ass?”
“Yes, I did.”
“You bad boy.”
I misunderstood. “I’m sorry. I thought it was alright with you.”
“No, I meant you were bad. You misbehaved.”
“Oh. Yes,” I said with a deep purr in my voice, “I was a naughty boy.” I thought she might suggest that I deserved a spanking, but she didn’t. I rested a while inside her ass, enjoying the sensation, then I told her, “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t reach the vibrator without stopping, and I was too excited to stop.” As I rolled off her, my dick came out of her ass, and I reached across the bed to the nightstand and retrieved a dildo, the one with a second, shorter part that can vibrate the clit while it’s in the vagina. I slid it into her sopping wet pussy, and got her started. While she held it there, I rolled back across the bed to get a second vibrator, which I then placed in her free hand and guided to her clit. I took over control of the one in her pussy. Simultaneously, I inserted my finger into her asshole. I could feel the dildo in her pussy vibrating my finger in her ass. It took her very little time to go over the edge. No better sound exists in the entire world than the sound a woman makes during an orgasm. I kept the motion going until she moved the vibrator in her hand away from her clit and let out a huge sigh.
We lay cuddling each other in a quiet embrace. Krystal had that mysterious quality in a person that makes you feel as if something more than sex has happened. At that moment, I felt a satisfaction to my very core. After a while, we passed into some small talk. One of the problems with being a swinger is that, once in a while, you meet a person who interests you as more than a sex partner, but personal questions are not permitted. She shared a little; I tried not to pry. After a while, I got up to visit the bathroom. Passing the clock, I noticed the time and told her that the clock was 10 minutes fast. She reminded me that she couldn’t see that far, so I told her it was ten to nine. She had said in the email that set up this meeting that she had to leave by 9:00. I hadn’t realized that so much time had passed. I had hoped we would have enough time for a second round, but that was clearly not possible. I came back by way of the living room to bring her glasses to her. She was getting up. She thanked me for bringing the glasses and went to the bathroom. When she came back, we embraced and kissed while standing. I walked with her to the living room where we both got dressed.
I told her that I am aware that some couples have a rule that they do not see the same person twice. “If that’s the case, then tell me so I know and I won’t expect to hear from you again. But I hope that you will. I really enjoyed being with you.”
She told me that she might contact me in a few days about another meeting. “My husband and I once had an ongoing threesome with a single man. In fact, on occasion, I’d meet him without my husband along. But the man fell in love with me and tried to get me to leave my husband. We managed to break off from him, but it got ugly before it was over. We try to be careful now.”
“I’m looking for NSA sex, too. I have to admit that I can see why that man fell in love with you, but I love being single.” I drew her close to me and embraced her. Her body was irresistibly cuddly. “I wish we had more time,” I whispered. “I’m ready for more.” I was pressing my renewed erection into her stomach.
She laughed softly while smiling. “I’ll look at my calendar and send a note.”
I walked her to her car and opened her door for her. We kissed once more, and then I waved goodbye as she drove away.

DesertScout

End of Story