Meeting Master Dave

I hate to fly. I mean really, really hate to fly. Hated it even before 9/11. The terrorism thing doesn’t bother me. It’s the fact that up here far higher than man was ever meant to be, and that nagging feeling that we are pushing our luck by being here. Being in a window seat makes things even worse, although I love the extra room. Looking out the window and seeing how high I am makes me crazy. And then there is the inevitable turbulence. I try to trick myself, thinking of it as potholes in the sky. Doesn’t work.

All of this makes the fact that I’m on an airplane headed to Fort Wayne, Indiana even the more incredible.

We had been chatting on line for a while. I enjoy chatting on the internet when bored and not getting any. I was on an adult chat site one night when we struck up a conversation. He would get my body so excited. Internet chat turned into phone calls. I was so nervous the first time we spoke. Six months later, I was on a plane to meet him in person for the first time.

Would I recognize him at the airport? Photos are so deceiving. Would he recognize me? Would he be disappointed? Ever since I knew I was coming out here I have been on a strict diet and exercising like crazy. But I still feel like a fat cow. I should have gotten a haircut. At least I got a manicure.

The plane takes off neatly into the June afternoon sky. Heading west into the sun. Takeoffs and landings are the most dangerous time of the flight. God I hate flying.

***

We land without incident, and enter the slowest form of time known to man. The time between touchdown and actually leaving the plane. We taxi to the gate and come to a full and complete stop. Everyone immediately stands in the mad dash to hurry up and wait. I sit. Luggage bins popping open, bags flying, bashing tall men in the head. I sit. People standing around in the aisle, waiting for the plane door to open, leaning on the backs of seats and switching on cell phones. I sit, grateful for the wait. So unsure and fearful.

I look like your average 34-year old business woman returning home after a trip in my black slacks, lavender blouse, and 2-inch sensible-yet-funky heels. Coming home on a Friday night after meeting with new clients, perhaps home to my husband, two kids and perennially-missing hamster.

I try to psyche myself up, putting a positive spin on things and a smile on my face. I might throw up.

I step into the brightly lit cave of the airport, taking my bearings. The crowd of people meeting my flight has thinned out in my delay - there are only a few people left.

And there you are. I can’t possibly not recognize you. You are such an engineer, in your khakis and blue shirt. Must have come from the office. Standing to the side, scanning the passengers deplaning………..and you see me. And smile.

I am frozen. I know I look like a deer in the headlights, but I can’t help it. I am so scared. You are smiling at me and I am still scared. Can’t I run? Get back on the plane? I am rooted into the floor.

You come towards me, the smile disappearing from your face in concern. You take my hand without speaking and lead me away from the crowd to an empty corner of the large room.

You turn to me, still holding my hand. “Hi, Samantha”, you say, smiling. “You ok?”

I step forward into you, leaning my head on your chest, snaking my hands around your waist. Holding on and feeling you for the first time. You wrap your arms around me, holding me close. We stand there hugging in an empty corner of the terminal, not speaking.

I pull away from you finally, my hands lightly around your waist.

“I really hate flying,” I say, looking into your eyes.

“It’s ok, Sam. You’re here now.”

“I AM here, aren’t I? I need to warn you right now that I’m really, really nervous and can’t be held accountable for anything I may say or do in the next couple of hours.”

“That’s all right. Do you have luggage?” you ask.

Luggage. Reality. I can deal with luggage. “Hopefully, if they haven’t lost it” I joke.

You laugh softly.

“Don’t laugh, Dave – I’ve had it happen” I say. “And I should warn you also that I over-packed.”

“Is there anything else you want to warn me about before we go?” you ask playfully.

“No, but I’ll let you know as I think of things.”

“Fair enough.”

We set out to the luggage carousel, my big bag reclining unhappily on the belt. I point it out and you pull it off, not even commenting on how heavy it is.

“Did you eat dinner?” you ask.

“No, and I’m starving. I think I’d feel much better if I ate something.”

We make our way out of the airport and to your car, you leading the way and carrying my bag for me. Very gallant. A point in your favor. We arrive at your SUV (gas-hog, you!) and you put my suitcase in the back and slam the back with a bang. I turn to go to the passenger side, and you catch my hand, pulling me back.

“Sam” you say softly, looking into my eyes….“Come here.”

I come to you as you pull me into you and my arms wrap around your waist again. Here in the relative privacy of the dark parking lot we hold each other, my hands flat against your back. You hold me close, stroking my hair.

“Sam, I know you’re scared, aren’t you?” I nod my head against your solid chest….“You have to know that I would never hurt you Sam. I’m so glad you’re here. You’re so beautiful, so much prettier than your picture. And I can’t wait to start our visit together.”

How did you know? How did you know the perfect thing to say to me while you wrapped me in your arms? I smile into your chest, feeling reassured and safe. What is it about being in a man’s arms that makes us feel so safe and warm? I burrow further in to your arms, feeling the buttons of your shirt on my face. We just stand there, feeling each other.

Until my stomach growls. Makes sense. I haven’t eaten much in the last month or so. I giggle and look up at you. “I’m starving!” I gasp….“Take me somewhere and feed me.”

“You got it, girlie” you say, laughing.

You open my car door for me and I climb inside. You get in and we speed away, leaving the awkwardness of the airport behind us.

We go to a quiet little Italian restaurant and share a bottle of chianti. Making small talk, keeping things light. Chatting about my flight, my hatred of air travel, our jobs. This is so weird. Having a normal conversation with you here in person. Sitting across from me. Not whispering in my ear on the phone, but sitting right across from me.

I start to get tired, the result of the wine, spent adrenaline from the flight and general Friday night fatigue from a full week at work trying to tie up loose ends before my vacation.

You pay the check (thank you) and we leave, climbing back into the SUV. You take me to my hotel, checking me in and telling me to get a good night’s sleep. We make plans to go biking in the morning. And you leave me to my room.

I walk into the room you reserved for me, and am surprised to find it a suite. A little kitchenette and living room, and a separate bedroom. I unpack quickly, settling in for my stay. I am so tired, but know that unpacking properly will serve me well in the morning. I set my travel alarm clock, tuck myself into the queen size bed and fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

***

The next morning, you pick me up at the appointed time, and we go rent a bike for me for the day at a little shop. And we are off to a rail trail. We ride along at an easy pace, enjoying the scenery and each other’s company. We ride for about an hour and a half, leaving behind weekend strollers and families with kid.

The sun is high as we pull off where the trail meets a stream. Sitting on boulders at the water’s edge as we nibble on fruit, cheese, and bread that you packed in your backpack. I take off my sneakers and socks and dip my feet, spreading my toes to the still cold water. The stream appears to be flowing north, and I know that the water flowing past my feet will wind up in one of the Great Lakes someday. Will these little molecules of H2O flow over the rocks of Niagara Falls days or weeks from now? What will happen as the water flows through the landscape and eventually to the Atlantic?

We sun ourselves at water’s edge, chatting lazily. Still feeling each other out for the nuances in our personalities. The things that can’t been seen over the cold phone lines. How you absentmindedly rub your chin when thinking. My obsession with chapstick.

I haven’t felt you overtly testing me, but I know you’re doing it. All I can think about are your hands. I glance at your thick fingers, wondering what they will feel like on me. I love men’s hands – the strength in them. What they will do to me before I go home?

We finish our simple lunch and I clean up the remnants, stuffing the trash in your knapsack. As we get up to jump off the boulders, you leap off first, and hold your hand out for me to take as I follow. I grasp your hand and leap off, landing on the soft ground beside the stream. I start to go towards our bikes and you pull my hand, not letting go. You take my head in your hands, raising my face to you.

“Sam…..” you whisper, barely audible above the gurgling of the stream. Cradling my face, you lean down and kiss me, testing my soft lips. Kissing me gently, brushing my lips, teasing me. You open my mouth, daring to push in your tongue. I melt into you, wrapping my arms around you as you kiss me. I return it with urgency, wrestling with your tongue as I let out a little moan from the back of my throat and our kiss grows stronger and stronger.

You release me finally, and I stagger back a step.

“Oh my God,” I whisper. I can feel every single drop of blood I have coursing through my body.

You just laugh softly, beaming at me. You simply say, “Let’s go.”

***

I let us into my suite with the magnetic key card, glad to see that housekeeping has done their work. We both need a shower, and I head in first, needing time alone to prepare myself for you. We know what is going to happen, and I get more and more excited as the hot water runs off my body. It washes away the sweat and grime of the day, and I make sure to shave smooth for you.

I turn off the taps, wrap a towel around my head, and another around my body. I open the bathroom door with a cloud of steam. “All yours” I say, smiling at you freshly scrubbed and bright.

“I took the liberty of ordering something from room service while you were whiling away the hours in the shower, my dear.” You gesture to a bottle of champagne sitting on the coffee table. “Help yourself while I clean up.” And off you go into the steamy bathroom.

Now, I love champagne. Some have called me a champagne whore. Well, alright – I call myself a champagne whore. Because I LOVE CHAMPAGNE!!! But it is a testament to my restraint that instead of uncorking that bottle, I ran into the bedroom and dried my hair. Well, maybe it’s a testament to my vanity. Nonetheless, I dried my shortish auburn hair quickly while you were in the shower, only just finishing when I heard you turn off the water.

With the large towel still covering my body, I enter the living room and stand over the coffee table, unwrapping the foil from the bottle. You open the bathroom door and let another cloud of steam enter the room, your hair still wet and body damp, a towel wrapped around your waist.

Oh look at you. You are so handsome, padding into the living room in your bare feet, wearing that towel like you owned it.

I glance at you slyly from the corner of my eye as I unwrap the wire around the cork, then twisting the cork from the bottle neatly, not spilling a drop. I pour into the two glasses provided by room service and hand one to you.

“Cheers” I toast as I clink my glass against yours. We drink our glasses down, so thirsty after our hard ride. You take my glass and refill it, then sit on the coffee table, pulling me to stand in front of you. Running your hands lightly down my body over the towel…...feeling the nubby terrycloth.

I stand before you with a glass of champagne in my hand, never so nervous as I am right now. You drop your hands and stroke my legs, first on the outside from my calves to my outer thighs, then on the inside. Starting at my ankles, tracing your fingertips up my calves, stroking behind my knees, then to about halfway up my thighs.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, Sam” as you lightly caress the insides of my thighs.

I take a sip of my champagne. “I haven’t been this nervous since the first time I had sex. I feel, I feel…………..” I can’t finish the thought. I don’t even know what I’m feeling right now.

“Relax, Sam. I’m not gonna hurt you,” you say in your strange little twang that you have. Where is that accent from? Kentucky? You run your hands down my body again.

“I’ll try to relax, Master” I say, trying to get out the right words.

“No, I’m not your Master right now. I’m your lover. Have I called you slave yet?”

“No.”

“When I’m your Master we’ll both know it, alright? I’m here as your lover, Sam.” You look up into my eyes as I stand before you. “Do you understand?”

I nod my head.

“Tell me” you command.

“I understand.”

“You understand what?” as your hands push up against my breasts, kneading them through the towel.

Oh that feels nice. “You’re my lover, Dave” I moan.

“I want to learn about your body, Sam. I can’t wait to take off this towel. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me not to rip this off and take you here on the floor?”

A million thoughts swarm through my brain, as my brain centers on you sitting in front of me. I am here, away from home, truly alone with you for the first time. I came here fully ready to be your slave, and you only want to make love to me.

My mind reels and I feel my hormones shooting through my body. I have never wanted anyone as much as I want you right now. I want to hear your voice whispering my in ear for real. To feel you tasting me, then surging inside me.

I reach down and stroke your hair, then bend down to kiss you. Tasting the champagne on your lips. Boldly pushing my tongue into your mouth now and bending your head back by my fingers in your hair. Kissing you so deeply, trying to tell you how much I want you.

You rise and guide me into the bedroom. You recline on the bed waiting for me to come to you. Waiting for me to make love to you. I set my glass down on the nightstand, and climb on top of you, straddling your hips, my towel bunching up. Stroking your chest firmly, I bend down and kiss the side of your neck, licking down your jaw line. My tongue traveling around your neck, kissing your Adam’s apple, then to the other side, only to wind up at your mouth again licking your lips. Gently nibbling at your ear.

“You skin tastes so good,” I whisper in your ear.

I travel down your neck to your chest, swiping my tongue at your nipples to see if you like that. Then running my hands up and down your chest again. Enjoying the warmth of your skin. Tracing my fingernails lightly around your chest, exciting you. I can feel you get truly hard underneath me as I do this, and wonder how much I can play.

I scoot down a little farther and wrap my hands around the top of your towel, which has already been made into a little tent. I unwrap you, laying the sides of the towel to the side, seeing your cock.

Oh your cock. I just smile and lick my lips. Not too long to be uncomfortable, but wide enough to make me know you’re there. Its going to fit into me soooo nicely.

Running my nails down your stomach lightly, further down below your waist. Then the soft pads of my fingers traveling down. My hands grasp your thighs, thumbs pushing in on the insides. Working my hands around your body as you lay back and enjoy my ministrations.

I lean up and brush my right index finger up against your lips. You immediately open your mouth and take my finger in, sucking on it. Oh god…..I love having my finger sucked. You grab my hand and hold it, sucking each of my fingers in turn, nibbling on the tips. I can feel the effects of your warm mouth, as I feel my pussy gets wet from the sucking of my sensitive fingertips.

I just have to reciprocate, so I pull my hand away and kneel between your legs, crouching above your hard cock. I blow hot air on you, just to see if that does anything. Hmmm….apparently it does. Could you cum if I just stayed here and blew warm air from my mouth onto your cock?

I look up at you and wink, then DIVE down on your cock, wrapping my lips around you and pushing all the way down on the first pass. I hold it for a couple of seconds as you dig into the back of my throat, then pull all the way up and off.

I lick my lips, then lick your cock up and down, playing with you and making you wet. Swirling my tongue around the head. Then down again, enveloping you with my warm moist mouth. Working you up and down as I cradle the underside of your cock with my tongue.

I reach up and stroke your balls gently. Hmmm….you seem to like that if the moans are any indication. I dip my head down and lick your balls, wrapping my lips around them, suckling. Wetting your heavy balls……..I can feel all the cum in them waiting for me. I return to your cock with my mouth while I keep a gentle hand on your sack.

Sliding up and down you now with long wet strokes. I want to milk your cock, taste you. Gripping you as tightly as I can with my mouth as I cradle your balls. Pulling you, letting you into my throat as I moan. Can you feel the vibrations of my moans on your head? Apparently so, as I notice your balls getting tighter in my hand. I go down on you harder and harder as your hands grip the back of my head. Working you in my own time, trying to pull the cum out of you, when your hips push up, sliding your cock keep into my throat. I hold still as you cum down deep inside me, my lips still wrapped around you. Fucking my mouth as you cum, feeding me. Oh yes, shoot in my mouth, let me taste you. You pulse into me five or six times as I greedily gobble it all up, not missing a drop.

God I love giving head. I pull up, taking a couple of sips of champagne to wash down your salty cum. Then kiss you, letting you taste the mix of cum and champagne and desire on my tongue.

***

I stretch out next to you, cuddling up against your body while resting my hand on your chest. Watching you recover from your orgasm. I stroke your chest lazily, a wicked little smile on my face.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, teasingly.

“Oh just fine” you laugh, breathlessly.

“Good. I aim to please.”

“You did. You will.”

I hop into the living room and bring back the bottle of champagne, filling the glass. You notice my attire. “What are you doing with that towel still on? Lay down here.”

I lay back on the bed, leaning on my elbows. You kneel on the bed next to me and unwrap me slowly, letting the sides of the towel fall to the bed. I try to suck in my stomach, nervous all over again.

“Relax…….you’re beautiful. Look at you laid out here in front of me, such a sight. Those breasts I’ve heard so much about.” You stroke them lightly, then hold them in your hands, squeezing gently, testing them. Stroking up and down my front, then you lean down and lick my nipples, alternating between the left and right. Suddenly you take my left nipple in between your teeth and pull slightly, then cover it in your mouth, sucking. You do the same to the right breast, as I stroke your hair and moan softly. Lazily playing with my breasts, you stop and kiss me before kneeling on the end of the bed between my legs, about knee level.

You take my left ankle and put it on your shoulder, then stroke my leg from bottom to top. Concentrating on my smooth skin, caressing me, then kissing behind my knees. You put my leg down and pick up the right one, licking me from ankle to knee on the inside. And continue on up my thigh, sliding your tongue almost to my warm, damp place, but not quite.