All About Allison

I lied.

In the e-mail I told Allison that I had accidentally stumbled across her on the Internet while searching for someone else. Truth was, the only person I had been searching for was her.

Twenty-five years ago we had been engaged. We had a fight. She broke it off. Life moved on but I carried my memories of her with me. I may have married someone else, but I lived with constant thoughts of Allison, wondering about what could have been.

The night I sent the e-mail I held out little hope that I would hear back at all. When I saw her response in my inbox the next morning, I just sat and stared at it while building the courage to click on the open button. The timestamp indicated she had answered almost as soon as she had received it the previous evening, a little after midnight. Was the quick reply a good sign or a bad sign? It wouldn't take her long to tell me to go to hell (again) and stay out of her life (again). A positive response would have taken a while to put together. I took a deep breath and opened it.

She was glad to hear from me. Flattered that I would still think of her after all this time. Surprised that I didn't hate her.

I had explained in the email that her town was part of my sales territory (true) and that only by chance had I found her (a lie) while putting together new leads in her area for my business trip down there next week. And I told her that the only purpose of the email was to say hello (another lie).

And then came her surprise. If I wanted, she could meet me for lunch or supper while I was in town and we could get caught up on things. If I wanted.

So now I was sitting alone in a room on the third floor of the Best Western hotel just outside of the small South Carolina town where Allison lived with her husband, waiting to meet her for drinks and dinner when she got off work. It was early-afternoon, a 100-degree-plus July day. My afternoon appointment had fallen through.

Anxious about the evening, I was already nervous with sweat when I reached the room and the temperature outside wasn't helping. With four hours to go before meeting Allison, I stripped all my clothes off and tossed them on one of the two double beds in the room, pulled out a pair of old, comfortable jeans and slid them on over my naked body, then plopped on the second bed and turned on the TV. The Braves were playing an afternoon game and it was a perfect, mindless way to kill time.

A knock on the door woke me up sometime later. Startled to realize I had fallen asleep, I quickly glanced at the clock radio beside the bed and breathed a sigh of relief. I still had an hour-and-a-half before I had to meet Allison. Who was at my door?

By the time I got to the door I was fully awake. As I flung it open I remembered that all I had on was the pair of jeans.

Allison and I both gasped as we saw each other for the first time in twenty-five years. We stood there and stared at one another and I wondered if I looked as good to her as she did to me. Her red hair was still shoulder length. She had managed to keep the same figure she had had when we were engaged and the sundress she was wearing did a poor job of concealing her petite, bra-less breasts or the nipples that were announcing their presence. My eyes scanned the rest of her body, my mind briefly wondering if she was wearing any panties, before moving down her smooth, silky legs to her sandal-clad feet. I took a deep breath and looked back up into her green eyes, which were smiling and taunting me. She had obviously not worn this outfit to work today at the church daycare she managed.

Her eyes were travelling the length of my body now in much the same way mine had explored hers. They stopped momentarily at the involuntarily growing bulge in my jeans and the smile on her face got bigger. Her eyes came back to mine as she took a half-step forward and stood in the doorway.

"You look so good, Andy!" she exclaimed.

"Not as good as you. Still Playboy material," I told her, referring to the dream of becoming a centerfold model that she had held when we dated.

"Well, that dream died, along with a lot of others," she said, a touch of sadness now creeping into her voice. She quickly recovered and asked, "Can I come in?"

I stepped aside and closed the door behind us as she entered, my eyes following her inside and across the room before locking on her butt. I couldn't see any panty lines under the sundress. Surely my luck couldn't be this good. Was she totally nude under the dress?

"The Braves are losing," she announced as she turned to face me, her right arm pointing at the television. Still smiling, she sat on the corner of the bed where my clothes were laying. "Are you going to stay over there?" she asked.

Realizing that I was still standing in the shadows at the door, I smiled and shook my head. "No," I answered as I made my way over to the small refrigerator that occupied space on the floor across from the bed where she was sitting. I opened the fridge and pulled out two cold beers from the case I had placed in there when I checked in. "Want a beer?" I asked as I handed one to her.

"I'm sorry I'm early," she said as she took the bottle from me, opened it and took a long swallow. "I've been thinking so much about us – I mean about you – since last week and getting so excited about seeing you again that I took the afternoon off. I didn't know if you'd be here this early or not but I took a chance."

I glanced at the clock next to the bed again. "We weren't supposed to meet in the hotel lobby until a little over an hour from now. How'd you find out what room I was in? They don't randomly hand out that information at the front desk."

Allison brought the bottle back to her mouth and took another slow swallow from it. When she moved the bottle from her lips, she ran her tongue around the opening then looked at me and smiled. "I'm good at persuading people," she said with a smile. "Is it too early to go to the bar?"

"No, we can go now if you'd like," I said. I leaned down and picked up my clothes that were on the bed beside her and headed for the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" She sounded a little surprised.

I stopped and turned back around. "To the bathroom. To change clothes."

"I've seen you nude before," Allison reminded me. "We dated for a long time. And we were engaged."

I could feel myself turning red. She was rapidly seizing control of our situation. "Well, I . . . that is, we're . . . ," I stammered.

Allison was staring now at the raging bulge in my jeans. "Over there," she said. She pointed to the open area in front of the room's window. "Change over there."

I took a deep breath and walked over to the window. With my free hand I reached out to close the blinds.

"Leave those open," she ordered.

I immediately objected. "But somebody might see."

"Leave them open," she slowly repeated. It wasn't a request. It was a demand.

With another sigh and my back to Allison, I laid the clothes that were in my other hand on the table beside the window, and began to unbutton my jeans.

"Nope. Turn around," she instructed. "I want to watch the little guy when he springs free."

Growing both more embarrassed and aroused by the minute, I slowly did as she ordered. Facing her, I unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans, slid them to floor, and stepped out of them. There I stood in front of her, totally nude, wearing nothing but a smile, my arms by my side.

"Mmm," she softly uttered. "Just as gorgeous a cock as I remembered. And you're shaved, now. I like that. A girl should be able to see what she's getting."

"All eight inches," I said with a nervous laugh.

"You never were any good with math," she retorted. "You're more like six, on a good day." She laughed when she noticed my expression. "Don't look so crestfallen. Size isn't everything. You do know how to use it. You used it well and it always felt so good inside of me."

"None finer?" I asked, feeling a little better after having been confronted about my shortcomings.

"None finer." She smiled at me. "Ever. And that's the full truth. I've always remembered that."

I smiled and started to move towards her.

"Whoa. What are you getting ready to try?"

I stopped. "Well, I thought you might . . . I mean . . . ."

"I came for drinks and dinner and to visit with an old friend. Nothing more," Allison revealed. "I'm sorry if I've mislead you."

"Oh." Rejected, I turned back around and reached for the clothes I had placed on the table.

"Stop. Face me," she ordered before I could retrieve them.

I did as I was told, and again turned towards her. Involuntarily, my hands now moved in front of me in an effort to cover my nakedness.

"Do you remember the first time you saw me naked?" she asked.

The memory came back rapidly. I had just as soon she hadn't brought it up.

"I do. It's not one of my prouder moments."

"It was at my parents', remember? I was still living with them. You and I hadn't even really become a couple yet. Or even really dated . . . except in a group. I wanted to go out with you so bad but wasn't sure you were interested in me."

"I was interested."

"You had stopped by the house with your friends on the way to your softball game. They were outside in the car waiting for you and you came in to see if I wanted to go. Remember?"

"I remember."

"But I couldn't go. You started kissing me. I was so hot for you. I reached down inside your pants and felt you. Then you began to undress me. Remember?"

"I said I did."

"I didn't try to stop you. Remember?"

"I said I remembered, didn't I?" I testily confirmed for her.

"And when I was standing there totally naked in the middle of my parents' living room, you looked at me and said you had to go. The game was about to start. And you left."

I sighed. "I know. How many times did I apologize for that over the years?"

"And the front curtains had been wide open. I was standing there completely nude in front of your friends and the whole world. They saw everything. I was so embarrassed. I couldn't move. And then they began honking the horn."

"They were very complimentary."

Allison smiled icily. "It's payback time. Turn around and face out the window."

"But the parking lot is down there," I objected as I did what she ordered. "Somebody might see me." I was objecting but I was aroused.

"I know. I hope they do. Now, start playing with yourself."

"What?"

"Stroke yourself. Slowly."

"Do you know what will happen if anybody is down there and looks up and sees me?" I began sliding my hand up and down my cock, caressing it, surprised by how excited I had become. I stared out across the lot. The two or three people down below were not looking up.

"Press your body up against the glass," she ordered next. "Grind against it. Keep stroking. Play with your balls." She was breathlessly gasping out her orders now.

For several seconds I did as I was told, my eyes constantly searching the lot below to make sure I wasn't observed, but the exhibitionist in me was beginning to take over and I really didn't care any longer. I began stroking myself faster. Finally, I heard a slight moan and dared to look back across my shoulder towards Allison.

The question I had earlier about whether or not she was wearing panties was now answered. She wasn't. She had her sundress hiked up with her left hand; the fingers of her right were playing with her clit; her eyes were closed. Her moans revealed the pleasure she was experiencing. For now, she had forgotten about my exposure at the window.

I had stopped in mid-stroke when I saw Allison playing with herself. I backed away from the window and silently moved across the room and stood before her, my rock-hard cock at full attention in front of her face, pre-cum already oozing from the tip. I gently tapped her on the shoulder and she opened her eyes.

She moaned slightly but didn't miss a stroke on her clit. She let go of her dress and with her left hand grasped my six inches and pulled me to her mouth. Her tongue quickly encircled the head and her mouth and throat consumed the shaft. It was only a few seconds longer before she let out a terrific moan as she climaxed, the vibration causing me to shoot my load in her mouth and down her throat.

She greedily sucked me dry, not a drop of my cum escaping from her mouth. Her middle finger that had just a few moments ago been caressing her cunt was now free, and soaked in her juices it began probing and then sliding into my asshole, causing me to moan as she slowly slid it back and forth, massaging me. At the same time, she tenderly caressed my balls with her lips, and then finished cleaning my shaft with her mouth before moving away from my cock and balls. Pulling her index finger out of my ass, she fell backwards onto the bed, dragging me down on top of her, her mouth greedily finding my own, her tongue entwining with mine and sharing with me what remained of my own cream that I had shot into her mouth just moments earlier.

I rolled off of her onto my back and she sat up. Looking down at me, she smiled and slid the sundress up over her head and off her body, casually tossing it onto the other bed. Then she lay back down on her side and pressed her naked body against mine. Her smile greeted me when I glanced over at her.

"I thought you only came for drinks and dinner and to visit with an old friend," I joked.

She laughed. "That's right. And I did. I drank your cum, ate your cock, and visited with your balls." She licked her lips and then reached between my legs and began to play with my now limp penis. "And if I can get this guy hard again, I'd like to have him visit an old friend."

We lay there and kissed as she gently helped me recover. In the process, in her own unique style and indirect way, she learned from me that my wife was a materialistic, self-centered creature and ours was a loveless, sexless marriage. Similar efforts by me to find out about her marriage she artfully dodged, deftly turning the topic of conversation back to me each time.

As I again began to grow between my legs, I moved my attention to her breasts and nipples, gently massaging the former as I sucked and nibbled on the latter. Conversation ceased as she began moaning. She spread her legs slightly and tried to pull me on top of her, but I resisted. It wasn't time yet. Instead, I slid down her body and moved between her legs, lifting her knees onto my shoulders as my lips greedily found her pussy and began nibbling.

The moans became louder as my tongue and lips licked and sucked on her clitoris; the moans became outright cries of pleasure when my finger found her g-spot. I spun over on my back, carrying her with me, and she rode my mouth and tongue as my finger continued to work her g-spot until finally climaxing, orgasming and squirting she collapsed onto my face, her arms flying forward with hands outstretched against the wall for support.

We stayed that way, catching our breath, until Allison dismounted, moving to my side, and then cleaning me up for the second time that night. This time the juices were hers as she lapped them from my face and chin, her tongue following the stream that had run down the side of my neck. It was, she told me later, the first time she had ever squirted or tasted hers or any woman's ejaculation.

By now I was hard again – as hard as I had been at the beginning of the evening. I tossed Allison over onto her back and mounted her, driving my six inches deep into her. At least as deep as six inches could go, anyway. Control was shifting to me now and I wanted to make sure she felt this and enjoyed it. Years ago she had had a submissive streak. I hadn't seen that tonight and wanted to find out if it still existed.

I was pumping her hard and steady, grinding my cock into her with each forward stroke. It had now become a session of rough sex, the kind of play we used to enjoy when we were a couple.

She was crying out unintelligibly and I could tell she liked it. "Spank me!" she finally shouted as I moved my arms under her legs and lifting them so she could wrap them around my neck. "Spank me hard! Make me cry!"

Before I could spank her, I felt a wet, slick finger begin to penetrate my ass. She had done that to me back in the day, too, I recalled as she know began finger-fucking my hole. She pulled it out after a few strokes but only for a minute, and when she returned I felt her gently began working two fingers in.

I shook my head and forced myself to focus on her, now spanking her hard, as requested, and rhythmically. I could tell I wouldn't be able to hold off cumming much longer. The finger fucking was finally pushing me over the edge. It always had.

When we came, we came together and collapsed in an exhausted pile. My penis slipped from her cunt and she gently slid her fingers from my ass. We rolled over on our sides, facing each other, kissing and gently fondling one another.

"What are you going to tell your husband we did?" I finally asked her.

Allison looked at me and smiled. "Nothing. He probably won't ask. But if he does, I'll tell him the truth. I doubt it will matter to him. I'm there for appearances only. James prefers other women. He has for several years. Or men. He tries to be discreet and keep it quiet but a lot of people know."

I propped myself up on one elbow and stared at her, trying to decide if I had just heard what I thought I had heard.

"James is married to somebody like you but he prefers others?"

"That's right." Allison sighed. "I can't recall if we ever really made love like you and I used to. Like you and I just did." She put a hand on my chest. "There is still some love between us – between you and me, I mean – isn't there? I felt like there was tonight . . . feel like there is."

I smiled and nodded my head. "I'd like to think that's what it is."

Allison continued. "Sometimes, if he's really horny and I'm all that's available, he'll demand we have sex. But that's all it is. And those times are rare. Usually with me he just wants to have a threesome. What he calls a 'James Sandwich'. Me, him and another guy."

The picture of that made me grimace and I felt some jealousy creeping in.

Allison noticed my reaction and frowned. "It's not what you think. He likes to be in the middle, screwing me while his boyfriend takes him in the ass."

We lay there silently for a few minutes before I spoke. "That's kind of selfish, don't you think?"

"What is?"

"James demanding all the attention and ignoring your needs. Have you ever suggested your own threesome?"

"Are you volunteering?" she asked with a laugh.

I didn't answer and we didn't say anything else. We lay there together in silence a few more minutes before I spoke.

"I'll volunteer," I said softly.

Allison lifted her head and looked at me. "For what?"

"For your threesome. If you can get James to agree, I mean."

She sat up in bed. "You don't have to do that. I told you how he is."

"Well, I want to. For you. But there's just one stipulation. It has to be all about you. He has to agree to that. It has to be all about Allison. No 'James Sandwich' this time."

* * * * * * *

A couple of days later Allison told James everything that had transpired. He actually became aroused, she said in the email she sent me, at the thought of seeing her with another man and was agreeable to the threesome arrangement. And it would be, he had agreed, all about Allison. She would be in full control. No "James Sandwich" this time.

It took a couple of weeks to work everything out but on a Wednesday afternoon in early August I pulled into the long drive leading to their house. "Estate" was a better word for it and it was impressive. The large brick home and sprawling grounds explained a lot, I thought, about why Allison tolerated the treatment she had received from her husband over the years. It was the same reason I tolerated the treatment I received from my wife.