Meeting Cat

You raised yourself from my chest and placed your hands there for a moment, stretching your body and showing off your splendid breasts to good advantage. You looked down at me from your perch astride my thighs and smiled a wanton smile that screamed your control of this situation. Your hand reached for my erect shaft that stood straight up right in front of your body and closed your hand around it.

"Mmm," you purred, "Mummy wants to go for a ride. I trust my boy has no objection?"

I groaned as your fingers began to play with the head of my shaft, bit my lip and shook my head. "None whatsoever," I eventually managed to say.

"I'm so glad," you teased and leaning forwards placed one hand on my chest for leverage and, with the other, dextrously positioned my cock at your entrance. I watched you intently as you slowly took me inside you. I watched as, first, your eyes widened at the invasive feel of my cock pressing into you and then, as they closed, your mouth opened somewhat and your head tipped back slightly as, inch by inch, your pussy swallowed my length. Your pussy lips touched my pubes as I bottomed out inside you and you gave a low groan of delight.

You reached out for my hands with your own and our fingers interlocked as our sexes had and we used these two intersections as pivots to rock back and forth.

A wise man once said that, like football formations, there are only three basic sexual positions but each has various potential frills attached to them. My own favourite is missionary for the depth of penetration & the intimacy of the face-to-face connection. That said, there is nothing quite so aesthetically pleasing, sexually, as being under a beautiful woman with a great figure. You, Cat, are both of these and more. From the position I was in I could enjoy your slim but powerful thighs either side of my flanks, the slight concave curve of your toned stomach, with the sparkly diamond stud at it centre and upwards to those incomparable breasts and the delicious valley of your cleavage that lay between them. Your clean, silky blonde hair, and let's be honest what man isn't a sucker for blondes, framed that sensual, sexy face and perfected the effect. You were, quite simply, breathtaking and I felt so connected to you as, like the most delicate, intricate machine, we moved in harmony with each other, locked together.

Experienced lover that you were, from your position on top you controlled the movements of that machine like a skilled artisan and brought the maximum pleasure to us both. Each movement of the muscles of your pussy over the skin and head of my shaft felt like a shot of electricity through me. I watched you cum; saw your chest flush and you cheeks redden; felt your cunt muscles grip me tight, your firm thighs squeeze me and your body buck slightly. The cum was silent but powerful, your eyes screwed tight, you teeth biting your lower lip.

Eventually, you opened your eyes and looked down at me, your pupils dilated, mischief in those blue eyes.

"You know I'm going to keep fucking you like this and keep cumming on you until you give me another of your orgasms, Tom," you told me, aware that I had cum not all that long before and it might take a little while for my cock to be ready to spurt again. Gripping your hands tighter, I nodded.

"I understand Cat, my body and cock are yours to play with as you wish." You leaned forward at this and kissed me again and then allowed you hair to brush sensually against my hair as you resumed your rocking, this time rather faster than before.

Your second orgasm was louder, more forceful than before and, as it approached, you broke the link with my hands and started to claw at your own breasts in anticipation, teasing and pinching the erect nipples which, I hardly need add, looked amazing, especially when accompanied by gasps and growls of pleasure.

"Oh fuck, Tom, I'm cumming again, shiiiit!" you cried out, throwing your head back staring straight up at the ceiling your mouth open in a repressed scream. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" you chanted and, as your body writhed on top of me, grinding your cunt hard against my pelvic bone, you racked your nails down my chest from my sternum, over my nipples and down past my rib cage. The shock of this pushed me past the point of no return and I moaned to warn you before pushing my hips up into you and releasing my second orgasm into you. It was, of course, much less substantial than my first and much of the orgasm was one of those dry cums, where one's body jerks but nothing comes out.

Both exhausted by our exertions, we each visited the toilet to clean up and then simply lay on the bed together, you cuddled into me as we idly flicked through the channels on the big flat screen TV on the wall opposite. We were only interrupted by the arrival of our overnight bags which I collected in the cotton dressing gown you had worn earlier. There was something very intimate and comfortable about just being cuddled up together like a couple, I felt so at ease in your company, like we had known each other for ages but with the added excitement of discovering more about each other as every moment passed.

As the electric clock on the bedside table clicked over towards 6.30, I asked you whether you wanted to order room service or get dressed and go down to the restaurant for dinner or even out. It was somehow accepted between us that our time together wasn't about to end, that we had at least he evening and probably the night together. You looked up at me and kissed me on the lips.

"You decide my boy, I don't mind."

I thought about it for a moment. "I want us to go out. This is lovely in here, like our own little bubble, but, and please don't judge me for this, I want to be seen out with you, I'd be so proud to have such a sexy, sophisticated woman on my arm."

You smiled happily in return and gently slapped my cheek with your hand. "You little flatterer, you certainly know how to make a woman feel wanted. Very well, I'll need to get ready then if I'm to be a worthy adornment to that arm of yours."

"Can...Can I watch you?" I asked shyly. You looked at me quizzically and then nodded.

"If you really want to, yes," you said.

"I do, Cat, I feel I could spend forever just watching you, silly I know but there we go. Everything you seem to do is very erotic to me." You blushed at the compliment but were obviously not displeased by it.

"You are silly but I like it," you told me and got up. I watched you move naked over to your overnight bag and retrieve a small make-up bag. You then sat yourself down at the dressing table in the corner of the room and I perched myself on the end of the bed, giving myself a great view of your elegant back and arse cheeks spread slightly on the velvet seat and also of your face and breasts in the mirror. I watched in awed silence as you applied your make up bit by bit. Foundation first, then bronzer and finally blusher to your cheeks. Our eyes were on each other in the mirror, always such an intimate thing I feel, as you drew your eyebrow pencil across your brow before applying a delicate layer of eye shadow, eye liner and then your mascara, all of which made your blue eyes stand out even more. The final touches were the powder brush and then the red lipstick which made your mouth a crimson bow in the centre of that beautiful face. You spun slowly in your seat to face me.

"Well?" you asked, a confident smile on those ruby lips.

"Fucking hell, Cat, that was incredible," I said breathless. You reached out and scratched gently at my raging erection.

"So I see," was your reply. "Get yourself dressed young man and I'll do the same." I hurriedly obeyed, pulling on my chinos, shirt and jumper, my clumsiness and desperation contrasting with your elegant grace as you slipped on your knickers, lifting each leg to encase them in the nylons and to smooth each one out before attaching them to your suspender belt.

Unfolding a dress bag, you drew out a beautiful navy taffeta dress that, when you slipped it over your head and shoulders, flared to just above the knee. Attaching long gold earrings to complete the look you gave me a twirl.

"Damn it," I growled, "I want to fucking take you back to bed right now." You giggled and wagged your finger.

"Uh-uh mister, you've promised me dinner out and I intend to collect on that promise," you said moving towards me and leaning up to kiss me on the lips. I offered you my arm and you grasped it tightly as we left the room and headed back out into the real world.

* ****

When we reached the lobby, we stepped out of the lift my hand resting possessively on your lower back, my splayed fingers just caressed the top of your arse cheeks. It being the City at the weekend, the hotel was still very quiet and it did not take long for us to retrieve our coats from the restaurant. You allowed me to hold the coat open for you as you put it on, another small gesture of intimacy between us that warmed my heart.

As we exited the hotel, the cold hit me together with that strange sense of disorientation that occurs in winter when you enter a building in the daylight and leave it in darkness. You will say I am being clichéd, of course, but it had started to snow, not heavily (it rarely does in London, despite what Hollywood tells us) and not enough to settle on the ground but enough to leave a romantic dusting in our hair and on our coats. Few decent restaurants, other than chains, are open in the City at the weekend and you were far too classy to take to a Pizza Express or Zizzi. We would have to go further afield, either to the West End or across the River to Bankside. I had decided upon the latter as far more romantic, the lights of London from one of its many bridges are one of the glories of Europe, and had intended for us to walk over London Bridge and find somewhere quiet. The snow and cold, however, made me change my mind and with a whistle and a wave of my arm, I managed to flag down a black cab and opened the door for you, admiring your legs and arise as you stepped in and settled yourself down in the corner. I told the cabbie to take us to the Shard and slid in next to you.

You sat there, knees together, and I placed my hand above your knee, just under the hem of your dress, enjoying the sensation of nylon against my palm and fingers. As I chatted to the cabbie idly about the football scores that day, you rested your head on my shoulder, your hair falling onto my chest, and I allowed my fingers to creep up your leg, to circle idly around the stocking tops and the bare flesh of your thigh above it, feeling your body respond both to the coldness of my hand and it sensation of its movements. You pressed your thigh against mine, opening your leg ever so slightly and I couldn't help but notice that the cabbie was checking his rear view mirror rather more than was strictly necessary given how empty the City streets were as he approached London Bridge.

The traffic increased, of course, as we moved out of London's commercial heart and into its more touristy areas around Bankside, Borough and London Bridge station. This gave our driver even more reason to be looking in his mirror and, very deliberately, you crossed one leg over the other, giving a definite flash of stocking tops and suspenders and trapping my hand between your warm thighs, God it felt like heaven there. A loud blast of a nearby vehicle's horn, told us that your action had badly distracted our good man and we smirked at each other like children again.

Despite the traffic, it did not take our driver too long to find his way to the Shard. Like so many tall buildings in London, and indeed the world, the Shard has a definite phallic appearance but despite the somewhat dull and ubiquitous glass design, it promised fantastic views over what I think is the greatest city on earth and, in my subconscious mind, was a perfect way to show you off to the world -- to publicise our secret liaison in a public but anonymous manner.

The Aqua Shard restaurant, on the 31st floor, has suitably amazing views which, despite not having the best table (not surprising really given our last-minute appearance on the Saturday before Christmas), we were able to enjoy as we ate together for the second time in the centre of the busy restaurant. The very public nature of our table meant that any overtly sexual contact between us had to be kept to a minimum. You pressed your foot on top of mine, while I placed my hand on top of yours on the table, stroking those long, elegant fingers with my own, paying particular attention to the two gold rings you wore on your middle and ring fingers.

The food was good, the company far better, as we discussed everything from film to politics and our own lives. I found I just wanted to know as much about you as I could, so confident were we now with each other, even after such a short period of time, that it was possible to talk of our families, though we avoided directly discussing our spouses. While we chatted like old friends, our body language was clearly that of lovers - leaning into each other, plenty of physical contact, shared smiles and the mirroring of each other's actions. The longer I looked at you and watched you, the more erotic I found everything you did, from the way you drank your wine to the delicate way you deconstructed your sorbet. I adored listening to your expressions of delight at what you tasted, each sounded so very sexual - perhaps they would not have done to any innocent bystander but I was not innocent with you, we were guilty parties and I loved it.

At the end of the meal I stood up and moved behind you chair and placed my hands on your shoulders, my fingers gently massaging you neck under your hair for just a couple of moments before sliding my hands down your arms until they reached your chair. I pulled your chair back and, at you had stood up, took your hand in mine and we left the restaurant. It thrilled me to see the heads of several men turn as you passed.

As we left the Shard, the snow was still falling but only lightly. I made to flag down a taxi but you placed your hand on my arm. I looked across at you and you shook your head. "No, Tom, let's walk." I smiled and offered you my arm, which you took and we made our way westwards along the Bankside towards Tate Modern and the Millennium Bridge. This hugely vibrant area of modern London was full of couples and groups out on Saturday night and it felt so wonderful to be so public with you and yet also be entirely in our own bubble. To those we passed, we might have been like any married couple, albeit with a slightly larger than usual age gap, or perhaps even an older woman with her toy boy, but to us there was the first secret of our affair, the astute or cynical among the passers by might have guessed that. Our second secret, known and knowable only to us that gave me a sense of immunity from the world, was our shared incestuous fantasy. That heightened the thrill even more, not only was I with an incredibly beautiful older woman who turned heads wherever she went but one who shared my deepest, darkest fantasies and perversions.

We walked over the Millennium Bridge together, admiring the lights of London as we did. As we reached half way, I released your hand, slid my hand around your waist and, leaning you back against the railings, kissed you firmly, passionately on the lips. You responded quickly and with urgency and each held the other's face as we sought to kiss as closely and as deeply as we could while the Christmas snow fell round about us, on our coats and in our hair and London moved past us.

My cock was rock hard and pressing into you as I pushed you back and I felt you push your groin back against me you coat falling open somewhat, allowing your leg to slip between mine. I shuddered, and from the cold, as one of your hands began to move southwards.

"Cat, what are you doing?" I asked between kisses as I felt your fingers at the zip of my chinos. You didn't stop kissing me as you replied.

"Exploring darling, that's all."

I gasped as your cold fingers closed around my hot and hard cock. "Besides," you grinned, biting your lip wickedly, "My hands were cold and I needed something to warm them up. This will do nicely." You laughed as I reached down and slapped your bum gently through your coat.

"Ah," I groaned, "I'm so going to punish you Mummy when we get back," I warned you and you gave a low, throaty chuckle.

"Is that a promise now my boy?" you queried, arching an eyebrow as you squeezed my cock and then scratched my balls with your nail. My knees almost gave way when you did that and I just about managed a nod. "In which case," you said withdrawing your hand and zipping me up with the no-nonsense efficiency of a mother zipping up her little boy's winter coat before sending him off to school, "let's waste no more time." Licking your fingers deliberately "Mmm, pre-cum," you whispered, "yummy," you grasped my hand and led me to the end of the bridge, back into the City, the great dome of St Paul's in front of us, something which in my heightened state of arousal, I likened to your splendid breasts, the golden cross on top I blasphemously equated to your perfect nipple. We were walking so briskly now, were it not for the snow and the slippery pavements I'm sure we would have run to our hotel.

I barely noticed the lobby staff as we entered, my vision solely fixed on the lift doors. The lift took what seemed an age to come and then we had to share it with a Japanese businessman. You leaned in the corner of the lift, your stockinged thigh just peeking out from between the front of your coat, teasing me wickedly behind the businessman's back as I just watched you, wondering why the damn lift was taking so fucking long. Finally, finally, it opened and we positively ran down the corridor to the room. The key card lit up first time, I slammed open the door and we were inside.

* * * * *

The card needed to be put in the card reader to turn on the lights but I didn't want to do that, I wanted to explore you in the dark, it felt right somehow as our hands roamed over each other's bodies. Our coats fell to the floor in a crumpled heap, the sound louder in the darkness, even our kissing sounded louder in the dark as our lips smacked against each other and we expressed our approval with moans and growls in our throats.

"Come with me you naughty girl," I told you, pulling you towards the window. The curtains were open and the only light in the room came from the shining lights of the City outside. I pushed you against the window and stood back to admire your silhouette through the window. You shivered at the coldness of the window as you pressed your hands against the glass, arching your back and pushing your bum against the pane. Your blonde hair spilled down over your shoulders and, as you raised one leg, you looked so fucking wanton that I just wanted to freeze that moment in my mind for ever.

We kissed slowly, intensely, deliberately, all our senses heightened in the dark. You tasted of sorbet and red wine and I felt that I could go on kissing you forever. My hands lifted the hem of your skirt and played with the tops of your stockings, enjoying the contrast between the smoothness of the nylon and the silkiness of the skin of your upper thighs.

I reached behind you for the handle of the window and pulled it open. The big window, which was really a door, slowly swung open onto a small balcony. I smirked evilly and confidently.

"Your punishment Mummy," I told you, "is to get fucked outside in front of the whole of London." You have a tiny gasp and a wanton smile came over those red lips, I swear you definitely licked them at the prospect.

We stepped out onto the balcony and we each took a sharp intake of breath as the cold hit us. Grabbing your wrist I pulled you into another clinch, my hands slipping down onto your arse, grabbing fistfuls of dress and hoisting them upwards to reveal your hosiery once again. As one hand slid onto the exposed skin, I could feel the goose bumps caused by the frigid air puckering the skin of your peach of an arse and feel the tiny hairs erect on your thighs, standing tall as if they were begging for my touch.