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" I know that now. I think it's time for you to get dressed and leave."I stared down at her, knowing this was one of those times when I would think of a suitable remark two days from now. She'd just admitted that she'd had the best orgasm ever, and now she was telling me to get out. With nothing more to say, she continued to look up at me, curiously, as I stepped forward and straddled her legs. She showed no fear, but when I slapped her cheek with my limber cock, she turned her head to avoid it.Slap, I caught her lips on the backswing, and she turned her head to gaze up at me, eyes blazing. Slap, my cock hit her left cheek. She didn't turn her head this time. Slap, I caught her right cheek, and dragged my cock across her lips. She didn't try to avoid it, nor did she voice a complaint about what I was doing.My cock was growing as I guided it across her cheek, stopping when it touched her lips. Her eyes were doe like as she opened her lips to allow my cock to slide into her mouth. Her. Now twenty-five, I’m meeting my first real date. I’m being me, at last. Conversing with myself between stoplights, I rewrote my personal history to justify meeting a man, not my husband.Approaching Michael’s restaurant in Sunnyvale, our meeting place, however, my rationalized confidence dissipated, replaced with timid reality.I’m risking my marriage, family, my world. I should go home. I knew I wouldn't. I was adrift, on remote, led by a yearning set loose, something long-repressed, now free. I didn't know where or how it would end. What was I thinking? I wasn’t. I just went heart forward.Familiar with the restaurant from driving past, I’d never eaten there. Its outside decor proclaimed it too upscale for our family budget. Going in was entering unfamiliar terrain, economic, social and moral.I was scared but fear was part of the enticement. Scanning the parking lot from across the street, I wondered if he even came, with a false hope he didn’t. There it was, his black Porsche, parked.
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