Catching Up with S . . .

S had called me on my way into work on Tuesday asking if I was free the next evening. I was still feeling happy from a lovely weekend with J (in the aftermath of my meeting with V before the holiday weekend). I agreed “of course”. The events of the rest of the day with the arrival of my “present” from V, and J’s subsequent excitement that evening, meant I was feeling even more excited about catching-up with S as I journeyed into the office the next morning and we exchanged texts about “time and place”.

We met at our usual restaurant in Hampstead and spent the meal talking about our respective Easter weekends. As we finished and walked to the car S surprised me by saying he’d booked a different hotel, “still close-by”, because he fancied a “change”.

Although the hotel itself was bigger, and I have driven past it on numerous occasions over the years, the room was actually smaller . . . and the bathroom tiny. “May be not such a good choice!” was S’s response. But I insisted that I needed a bath rather than a shower, so he started the water whilst I opened the wine and undressed.

He sat on the toilet seat next to the bath as I soaked. I used to make excuses like asking him to bring me my phone from my bag, when I wanted to, more thoroughly, clean my “bits and pieces”, quickly sponging and sliding whilst he was out of the room for a few moments. But we’ve known each so long that such embarrassments now seem churlish and unnecessary, but as I lifted myself up in the bath a little to make my adjustments, he leant forward offering “I’ll do that for you” . . . so I pouted my disapproval “I might not want to be touched there!”. Then having to giggle as I saw the look of disappointment in his face.

I stood up and accepted the towel he handed to me, he knows I like to “drip dry”, and we exchanged places. I leant forward and washed his back and neck with the small hand towel we’d somehow mistaken for the flannel, and he spent the next few minutes soaking and telling me about his plans for the family summer holiday. As he stepped out I told him he had to let me dry him down . . . I always find it fascinating how a man’s willy can be so different and so much smaller when it is flaccid and “unexcited”. Not that I mentioned this to S of course, as I knew I would find it so much more attractive to look at in a few minutes time.

I was feeling quite wilful and led him into the main room, still holding on to his willy which I could start to feel growing a little stiffer as we reached the bed. He unwrapped my towel and we began to kiss as I continued stroking him, and he began running his hands down my back and cupping the cheeks of my bottom in his hands. As I released him to run my hand up to his shoulder I felt his firmness slap against me. He turned to sit down on the bed and pull me down with him but I resisted and instead pulled him to his feet again. I turned round and leant forward against the table telling him “I thought you might prefer to kiss me like this first”. He knelt down behind me and I immediately felt his tongue sliding up and down between my cheeks. I opened my legs wider and asked “fingers!”, gasping as he reached around with both hands and started rubbing and sliding them over my lips and clit. I was spread face down across the table holding the edges with both hands and just pushing myself up on tip-toes, lifting my bottom up and loving the sensations of his fingers circling round and round and then sliding into my pussy. His tongue was lapping down to meet his fingers and then sliding back up again and I could feel it circling round and round and then pushing and probing.

I moaned my disappointment when he stopped and stood up . . . but then I felt his cock rubbing under my lips and sliding back and forth between them. I released my grip from the table top and reached down between my legs to take his cock and guide it into my pussy. We were pushing back and forth against each other now, rocking against the table as I had the palm of one hand against the wall, and the other between my legs feeling him sliding in and out between my fingers. I was urging him to “fuck me”, and he was holding me by the hips with both his hands and stroking in and out. I was getting quite carried away and could hear myself getting louder and louder in urging him on. Then I heard him cry out “I can’t” and he pulled away and then forward into me again, rubbing his cock with much faster strokes against the cheeks of my bum. He gasped out and then I felt him splashing across my bottom and the small of my back. I reached around to grasp his hips to hold him in position and rubbed back against him, letting him feel me rubbing his cock between, the now very slippery, cheeks of my bottom.

I stood up and turned round and moved him to the bed . . . laughing and cursing as we had to struggle for a few moments to pull the sheets back as they were so tightly tucked under the edges of the mattress. We collapsed onto the bed together, S still moaning and me giggling as I told him “Isn’t it a nice feeling to rub yourself clean against such clean, freshly starched sheets!”.

We lay recovering quietly for a while. I was still lying on my stomach when he sat up next to me and then moved down to start kissing my bum cheeks and trying to slide his tongue between my cheeks again. I rolled over onto my back and told him “I need kissing here actually” . . . I know he likes me to spread my lips for him and I wanted to feel his tongue and fingers there again.

S does do such lovely things with his fingers, not just stroking around me, but he slides one and then two fingers into me between my lips and then plays with quicker and quicker strokes with two fingers of his other hand over my clit. I like to lift those fingers away and lift them up to my mouth and suck them for a moment before guiding them back down to the spot again. I was really tingling now and bouncing up and down more and more as his swirling and fingering got faster and faster. I came with a long, long groan, lifting his fingers out of me but holding his other hand onto me as I bucked upwards with those final few thrusts. I turned over again and asked him to “cuddle me please”.

By the time we’d lay together, recovering, and then turning back to face each other and cuddling and talking more, we were both surprised at my phone alarm ringing to tell me it was 15 minutes to midnight. Neither of us had dozed, we’d just been stroking and talking and the whole evening had just gone by without us realising how late it was.

We dressed and tidied up . . . S pointing out that I was lucky the wine was a screw-top as I’d hardly had a sip from my glass . . . I pushed it into my handbag, and asked if he’d mind me sharing it with J when I got home!!!

Best wishes - Edith
http://www.scarletsecrets.co.uk/edithsdiary

A Surprise Delivery . . .

Back in the office yesterday after the holiday weekend and mid-morning I was surprised to receive a small padded envelope delivered by courier. It was from V . . . the keys to his apartment!!!

I'd mentioned during our evening last week, that J and I were finding it more and more difficult to find “free time” together now that the children were getting older and staying-up later. I was moaning that in previous years we’d "made" time and had occasionally left the children with one or the other of our parents and managed at least one weekend break away together. But that this year J felt we couldn’t afford it.

V’s note with the keys said “a mistress such as you should have more than just the keys to my heart! Enjoy a weekend away with your husband.”

I telephoned him at his office straight away to say thank you and he said I must tell him in advance so that he could warn his cleaner not to turn-up whilst we were there, but that otherwise I was free to use it to "get away" whenever we felt the need.

When I got home last night and showed my gift to J he got very excited and was immediately on the phone asking his parents if they could house, and children, sit this weekend !!!

Best wishes - Edith
http://www.scarletsecrets.co.uk/edithsdiary

An eventful evening with V . . .

True to his word when we’d lunched in March, V emailed at the beginning of the week “Two days notice. Will you still meet with me?” I replied “of course” immediately . . . and he replied that he’d call me on his arrival in London.

I packed a change of clothes on Thursday morning as I left for work. As always, as we lay in bed the previous evening, J had been making suggestions of what I should wear. But I had to remind him that as we’d be meeting for a meal I could hardly wear most of the outfits he was suggesting.

The day seemed to drag by and I had to consciously try to disguise the excitement in my voice when he called on my mobile to agree a restaurant to meet at. As my colleagues, (slowly), left the office, I “tidied” myself up and changed into the black skirt and white woollen top that I’d carefully folded into my bag that morning. Although it is a polo-neck, J had actually approved of my choice of the top that morning, as without a bra it is quite a tight fit and apparently “shows off all the right curves”.

V’s flight was an early evening one and as he was coming straight-in from the airport he suggested meeting for a pasta in Knightsbridge. He was waiting with a table and wine as I arrived. He rose to exchange kisses and take my jacket and we began to catch-up with our news whilst we waited to order. He was in his usual charming form, adding to his usual compliments by telling me that his trip was a “detour just to visit you on my way home tomorrow”. I told him that tomorrow was Good Friday and he laughed and said “I will have to make sure you have a Good Evening then won’t I.” I reminded him that he’d originally told me three weeks ago that he’d be in London for a week over Easter, but he replied that his original meetings had been postponed and that instead of flying home directly from a few days in Dublin he’d decided to stop-over in London for the evening. I felt flattered . . . but thankful for the timely arrival of our waitress to take our orders! Conversation throughout the meal swapped between further updates on my family news and, of course, our respective situations at work. I confessed that I hadn’t been following news of the G20 summit but listened attentively as V espoused his own summary and views on our likely position in the coming months and year.

As he bundled his suitcase into the cab he promised “no more business talk. Tell me more about the children!”. He spent the rest of the journey holding my hand listening and asking more questions about the children and our plans for the Easter break.

Once we’d arrived at his apartment he poured drinks and as we sat together embracing on the sofa he said “I need to shower, would you like to join me?” I nodded my agreement, enjoying his kisses and fondles, and put my glass down on the table to let him lift my top up over my head. I held his head and leant back as he kissed and sucked from nipple to nipple, enjoying hearing him tell me how much he’d “missed these bullets”. I was becoming quite aroused as he continued his sucking and I adjusted my position to let him unzip my skirt and had to stand up to let him slide it off. I laughed at his disappointment that “tonight you are wearing panties!”, teasing him “I will let you take them off me though.” I enjoyed his gasping compliments and kisses as he slid them down off my hips and told me how much he loved my “smoothness”. I pulled away telling him “I had a waxing last week actually, but now you’re still dressed and I’m completely bare . . . I’m waiting for my shower!”

He stood and let me unbutton his shirt as he undid his belt and then stepped out of his trousers. I looked down to see him pop-out of his trunks as he pulled them off and stepped out of them. He took my hand and led me down the corridor to the bathroom. Of all the men I’ve been with, V is the most natural and unconcerned about being undressed. He walked around the bathroom, running the water and arranging the towels as though it were the most natural thing in the world. His shower is really just like a sunken corner of the tiled bathroom and he just gently led me under the water asking “tell me if it is too hot”. I jokingly responded “I like it hot”, and turned my back to him to let him squirt the soap down my shoulders and back. I playfully reached behind me, doing my own soaping as I enjoyed feeling the weight of him in my hand. He turned me round and began playing with my nipples again as I continued my stroking around under his balls. As his squeezing and sucking became more passionate I protested that I didn’t want to get my hair wet and needed to move away from the water a little. I told him I was enjoying soaping him instead and insisted that he let me continue by turning round with his back to me and that he could stand completely under the shower head if he wished. I soaped his back with one hand whilst still stroking his willy with the other . . . then sliding both hands down onto his legs and in-between them, squeezing his balls again and running my soapy fingers between the cheeks of his bum. He turned to return my soapy strokes with strokes of his own and we finished rinsing each other off with gasps and giggles as I had to tell him that despite his attempts “I just can’t get aroused enough under a shower!”.

We towelled each other down, kissing and stroking still, and made our way to the bedroom . . . falling back onto the bed with him continuing his attentions to my nipples. I was now beginning to feel more responsive and started telling him to “nibble and bite”. I could feel him hard against my thigh and wanted to reach down to him but he slid further down over my tummy, his tongue licking a trail over me to my pussy. I gasped loudly as he found the spot and with my hands now free I held his head and spread my legs wider beneath him. “Suck as well” I instructed . . . and heard myself groaning louder as he responded. I began lifting my hips up higher off the bed but his tongue followed my pussy upwards. I dropped and lifted again but his tongue followed . . . instead of sliding further round. Mis-interpreting my movements, V moved up onto his knees and I knew he wanted to push into me. “Mmm, not yet. Slap me with it first!” I instructed. He wasn’t sure what I meant so I reached down to grasp him and show him how I wanted him to smack it against my pussy. He quickly realised what I wanted and began slapping the head of his cock against me. I slid my fingers down to spread my lips so that my clit was more exposed to the slaps. I could hear his gasps echoing mine when I opened my eyes again I could see him looking down at it as he continued to slap. The sound was getting me as aroused as the feelings of each thud against me and I was thrusting my hips upwards as I felt each one coming.

Then I felt him re-adjusting his position and pushing into me. I let my legs lift around his bum and threw my head back against the bed with loud groans as he began stroking into me. He was pushing quite gently at first, lifting one of his hands up to squeeze at my nipples again. I moved my right hand over the top of his knuckles pushing it harder down onto me, and reached over with my other hand to squeeze my other nipple and then up to squeeze gently at his. We continued rocking back and forth against each other. I opened my eyes again as I heard him groaning louder, telling me “what a woman you are”. I wanted to ask him what “sort” of woman he meant, but he suddenly started thrusting quicker and quicker and I could see him squeezing his eyes shut tighter and tighter. I managed to push at his chest slightly and blurt out “outside” . . . he was nodding and gasping “yes I know”. He pulled out and I reached down to pull his bum forwards onto my tummy, he burst with a loud moaning and a series of shudders and thrusts, and I felt us squelching together as I held him tightly on top of my tummy. He lay on me just for a minute or so, seemingly just long enough for his shudders to stop, before he rolled off me and got up off the bed. I sat up to ask “what are you doing?” . . . he was already walking across to the chair and picking up one of the towels where we’d left it, before returning to the bed to “wipe up the mess”. I lay back giggling that “I don’t mind mess, I’d far rather you just lay and recovered”. But he insisted on rubbing the towel first over my tummy, then his own. He then asked if I’d like some more wine and I laughed “well, as you’re up”.

I had rolled over on my tummy lying across the bed when he returned with glasses and the wine. I reached over to play with his willy as he poured. He tried to shake my hand away, but I kept gently squeezing, telling him “it’s lovely. Thick and all warm”. He stood still by the side of the bed just holding out my glass, but I pretended to ignore him and leant further forward to lick at him and then suck him into my mouth. It was warm! And I sucked and then flicked my tongue over the head, but he pulled away saying it was “ticklish” and apologising that he had been “so quick”. As he sat down next to me and I accepted his glass, I rested my chin on his leg and asked him if it had been worth his “detour”. He replied that it had been the “high point” of his trip . . . but “please don’t say you are going home yet”. I knelt up to sip at the wine and kiss his cheek and asked “what are you offering to entice me to stay?”

We sat together on the bed looking out at the river and talked more about relationships and, both, our families. More wine and more stroking . . . and slowly the strokes turned more to embraces. We stretched back onto the bed and he once again began sucking at my nipples. I rolled over onto my side more though so that I could reach down and start stroking at him again and then down to slide my mouth over him. I love the sensation of feeling him getting harder and thicker inside my mouth . . . and lifting up to roll my tongue around and over the head and then swallowing down on him again. He rolled onto his back and lifted me up onto his chest and I lifted up to rub myself over him. He’d lifted his head and was looking down as he tried to position himself more, but I wasn’t ready and gently pushed him back so that I could lift myself up over his chest. I pushed my pussy forward to his chin, not saying anything, but lifting again to let his tongue run over my lips. He was holding me by my hips now so I could reach forward with both hands and spread my lips to push myself further forward onto his tongue. “I like that” I was telling him as he flicked his tongue around my clit. I lifted and sat back slightly, but he lifted further and his tongue followed my clit again. He obviously wasn’t keen on letting his tongue explore further round so I leant forwards again muffling his gasps as I rubbed my lips gently onto his mouth. I let him guide my hips down his chest and lifted up . . . we were both looking down to guide each other together. I was feeling really naughty watching him disappear inside me and allowing myself to twist around on him and pushing and lifting to meet his thrusts. I sat more upright lifting my hands off the bed and first onto his chest and then onto my own knees. He was grunting and thrusting upwards and I was rocking backwards and forwards in time with his thrusts, but thinking of how wonderful and naughty all of this was. His gasps were getting louder again and as I looked forward I could see that same squeezing look on his face that he had earlier. I lifted myself off with his next thrust and then rubbed down on him with my lips sliding over him and he came again with his next thrust. I saw the first splash squirting from the eye of his willy before our chests squashed together and his arms pulled me onto him. This time he made no attempt to pull away and get up . . . we just slowly rolled onto our sides still cuddling into each other.

We both lay for some time without speaking, until eventually I rolled over onto my tummy and squirmed to the edge of the bed to reach for my glass. V sat up and re-arranged the pillows and we sat back against the head of the bed with our wine. He was flattering me with more compliments and asked if I would stay “especially as it is a public holiday”. But I told him that was even more a reason I would have to be at home when the children woke up. I could see from the digital clock on the bedside cabinet that it was already after midnight and I realised that the alarm reminder on my phone must have already been going off every 15 minutes. But I’d left my handbag somewhere in his dining room, well out of earshot, especially with the noises we’d both been making. I wanted to get up but I loved hearing him telling me again how wonderful it had been and how “magnificent this friendship” was. He topped my glass up again and nuzzled down by my elbow to start kissing at my breasts again. I kept thinking “I have to tell him I’ve got to go”, but my nipples were tingling again and he’d now slipped his hand down between my legs. I squeezed my legs together trying to stop his fingers and managed a feeble “it’s very late” . . . but my squeezing only resulted in rubbing his wrist harder against my pussy and I found myself turning my other breast towards him as he lifted his mouth away from one nipple to search for the other. In just a few seconds I knew my resistance was gone and I was opening my legs to free his hand.

I pushed my glass towards him almost willing him into taking it from me to place it on the table . . . and then with loud groans I stretched back onto the pillows, reaching up to squeeze my boobs together, pushing them forward into his face and telling him again to “chew my tits”. His fingers were pushing into me now and I was desperate to come. I was stretching my legs out fully down the bed now and could hear myself telling him “you’re making me naughty”. I pushed his head away from my chest and down over my tummy. He lifted up and moved down between my legs, laying on his stomach and burying his face into my pussy. I was urging him on “I like it, it’s lovely there, just where you are now” . . . I was clamping the palms of my hands over my nipples and bucking my hips into him, I wanted it so badly. When I felt it coming the noises I was making were almost like giggling sounds and I had to consciously almost bite my lip to stifle the noise. I let go with one last loud gasp and reached down to hold his head into me as the shudders continued. I lifted my right leg up to release him and then pulled both legs up into my chest as I rolled over onto my side. V pulled himself back up the bed and I could hear him sipping wine and putting the glass back down on the table, and then . . . nothing!!!

I was looking straight at the clock when I woke up . . . my eyes staring straight at the red numbers 02:13. I sat up, panicking . . . I was an hour away from home in the early hours of a public holiday!!! V was lying down behind me, snoring quietly until I got up off the bed and he awoke immediately. “You let me fall asleep” I said, instantly regretting the accusing tone of my voice. He followed me out into the corridor, apologising that he must have quickly dozed-off as well. He said he’d phone for a cab straight away.

I found my phone . . . there were two text messages from J, and a missed call. I apologised to V as I flicked through the two messages. “Sorry, I have to text him”. V nodded and asked if I’d like to use the telephone to call home, but I replied that “a text is probably safer first”. He asked if I wanted a cab and went off to make the call whilst I sent through a text to J’s mobile. V re-appeared dressed in a robe and told me they’d only be ten minutes and that he’d make coffee whilst we waited. I dressed and we sat with the coffee together on the sofa. As he stroked my knee, I kissed him and told him I’d had a lovely evening but that “I just have to go home”. He nodded “I know you do” . . .

I spent the entire journey home holding my phone waiting for a text or a call back from J. There have been several previous occasions when I’d been out as late with S, and in fact several times when I’d spent the night in a hotel . . . but on those occasions J had known exactly where I was. He had no idea where V’s apartment was and I’d told him when we’d kissed our goodbyes that morning that I wouldn’t be home late . . .

But, I needn’t have worried . . . J was fast asleep on the sofa when I got in. He didn’t stir until I’d undressed and shook him awake . . . and he didn’t complain as we had a long, and passionate “sleep-in” on Good Friday morning . . . and a lovely, and loving . . . Easter weekend . . . and, there’s still one evening left !!!

Best wishes - Edith
http://www.scarletsecrets.co.uk/edithsdiary