Pen Pals

- - -

From: Cynthia Weber

Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 7:25 PM

To: Gerald Parkman

I wish! It has been so long since I had a date that I am worrying I have forgotten how. It has been even longer since I had sex, but thankfully I am pretty sure I remember how to do that. It's like riding a bike...you never forget, it just takes some practice to get back into things.

Do you and your wife never talk about sex, at all? Is it just that you have become so in tune to what the other wants that it isn't necessary? I hope I am not prying, you don't have to answer if you don't want to.

* * *

Gerald sat staring at the message for several moments, trying to decide what to do. The word had been uttered: sex. It was out in the open now, and she was asking for specifics. Although her questioning seemed rather general, and so there was nothing wrong with assuaging her curiosity...right?

Making a decision, he took a deep breath. He would be honest, she deserved that. Besides, it was just a normal part of life, and maybe it would give her some kind of aid when the time came for her to settle down.

From: Gerald Parkman

Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 7:31 PM

To: Cynthia Weber

My wife and I don't have sex. At least, we have not in a very long time. I would say it has been around five years since we last made love. Before that, it was a rarity. She has just never been especially interested, and I don't want to push her.

Besides, we have other elements to our marriage that are rewarding. She has always been good to me, and so I count my blessings and move on.

* * *

Of everything he could have said, that had been entirely unexpected. Cynthia couldn't begin to imagine a life without any sexual activity. Even her own dry spell had lasted only three months, and it was the longest she had ever gone without such intimacy. To be married and still not enjoy those pleasures? It was unthinkable.

She read over his message a few times, catching the tone of his justifications. He was quick to defend his wife without even seeing her reaction, as if he knew it was abnormal but not wanting her to think badly of Agatha. In an odd way it warmed Cynthia's heart, to see the dedication and love he obviously held for his wife.

It also sparked something strange inside of her. Sitting there, thinking of how long it had been since the man had received pleasure from a partner, was making her almost...aroused. Her mind created images of offering him what his wife would not. Not to mention the things she could give him that perhaps Agatha had refused to when they had been intimate in the past.

Opening up the photo he had sent her, she studied his form. It was a holiday picture, taken on the dock of a harbor. Gerald himself stood a little stiffly, obviously not a fan of cameras. He was tall, though it was hard to see exactly what his height might be; perhaps a little over six feet. His shoulders were broad and he looked like he was in fairly good shape. There was a tiny paunch and spread that she would expect from a man of middle age, but he was by no means overweight.

His hair was dark, maybe a deep brown. At the temples and streaked a little through the sides he had gone gray, but it looked good. Distinguished and sophisticated, as men so often did. His face was aged, but not horribly. The lines were mostly around his mouth and eyes, which she found quite becoming. Even his small, restrained smile was attractive. Even though he was not conventionally handsome, the mild quirk of his lips made him very much so.

But what caught her eyes most were his hands. They were large, even from the picture she could see that. Big square palms were tipped with long, thick fingers. She could just imagine those digits tweaking her nipples, or sliding up her thighs...

A little alarmed by her reaction, she still couldn't help herself as she wrote him back, adding in more details than were necessary.

From: Cynthia Weber

Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 7:40 PM

To: Gerald Parkman

I have to admit that it is hard for me to imagine that. Sex is a big part of my life and any relationship. Not because I think the act itself is important, but because I love it. Everything about it is wonderful, from the touch of a man's hands to his tongue between my legs, and vice versa. Not to mention the actual feeling of someone inside of me.

You are an attractive, kind and seemingly gentle man. It is a shock to think you aren't receiving that kind of attention. Not that I am speaking badly about your wife, I am sure she is lovely. I just know that if I were her, I would be more than eager to be with you.

She was a little nervous when she read back over that particular message. It wasn't just mildly flirty, it was racy. There were details, and even a statement about her own attraction that had suddenly reared itself within her.

But she gathered her bravery and hit send, before heading into the kitchen for another glass.

* * *

When he read the email, Gerald's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Mouth slightly open, he read over the words at the end for a third time. "...I would be more than eager to be with you," he whispered, licking his lips.

But it was the description above that had caused a stirring in his trousers. He could clearly see each act; touching her skin, being inside of her, tasting her...the last made him close his eyes and bite off a groan. His wife had let him lick her a few times, though never to orgasm and it had been a very long time. She had never seemed to enjoy it, and after a few years of marriage she didn't bother consenting to it at all. Even though he had been immensely turned on to perform oral sex on other partners before her.

"..and vice versa," he said, and this time he did groan. He could just imagine those plump lips around him, stroking her tongue against the underside of his cock as he slid his fingers through her long, dark hair. It was an incredible visual, and he felt himself hardening until he was semi-erect.

Swallowing hard, he didn't even bother to let his hesitation still his fingers.

From: Gerald Parkman

Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 7:44 PM

To: Cynthia Weber

That is quite a series of images you have put into my mind, Dear. You are making it quite difficult to behave myself, especially when you say you wouldn't mind being with me. I have to admit, I would be far from reluctant to find myself in bed with you.

Of everything you have said, your reference to oral sex has flustered me the most. That is one thing my wife often refused to participate in. Though I have always very much enjoyed pleasuring a woman in this way, and I have often fantasized about being able to do so once again. Having the favor returned would be very appreciated, but not required.

Normally I wouldn't speak to someone this way. But you are a beautiful young woman, among many other attributes that make you desirable. You may have taken me past the point of control. It didn't even take alcohol.

* * *

Cynthia nearly choked on her wine. It had been like flipping a switch, watching him go from zero to sixty in moments. Which was becoming all the more exciting for her, as she read over his desires and pictured him sliding his tongue between her folds. Scandalous thoughts, indeed...

Part of her knew that she was asking for trouble, speaking to a married man this way. But the guilt was quickly getting lost in her increasing desire. They were just emails, after all. It wasn't like they were having an affair.

She decided in that moment to put her hesitation out of her mind.

From: Cynthia Weber

Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 7:50 PM

To: Gerald Parkman

You are putting some serious thoughts in my head as well, Gerald. Though the 'favor' would definitely be returned. I love giving oral sex. It is all about that shared pleasure, and as I have gotten older I have learned to appreciate it even more. There is nothing sexier than a man's reaction when I am sucking his cock.

The fact that you are so enthusiastic about going down on a woman shows that you would be good at it. I would love to slide my fingers into your hair and grind my hips up as you slid your tongue over my clit. Just thinking about it is turning me on.

- - -

From: Gerald Parkman

Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 7:56 PM

To: Cynthia Weber

That is so sexy. I am sure you taste like heaven, and the thought of you grinding yourself against my mouth is one of the most arousing things I have ever read. I would not be able to stop, wanting to bring you to climax again and again with my tongue. Shuddering in pleasure and screaming for me. I am sure you have the loveliest voice.

What are you doing right now?

- - -

From: Cynthia Weber

Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 8:00 PM

To: Gerald Parkman

Mm, that sounds nice. Almost as nice as what we would do next. I would love to suck you, teasing you with my tongue. Wrapping my lips around you and rolling your balls in my hand. Tasting your precome as you get closer to the edge.

But when you were right there, tugging at my hair, telling me you were close, I would stop. My lips would move down to suck your balls, one at a time, stroking you with my finger tips.

I am sitting in my living room, leaning back in my chair. I can only type with one hand because I am pinching my nipples, going from one to the other. They are so hard right now, and touching them and speaking to you is making me so wet.

Are you hard, Gerald?

* * *

'Hard' was an understatement. His cock had rapidly gone from semi-erect to steel pole, pressing insistently against his trousers until the discomfort had led him to release it from the constraints. He had his hand around it now, stroking slowly as he read over her words again and again.

Not only was the graphic description of what would be the greatest blow job of his life driving him crazy. But she was touching herself, stroking those gorgeous breasts and pinching what he was sure would be perfect nipples. If only he could see that, watching her pleasuring herself in such an intimate way. And for him.

His fist moved the foreskin up over the swollen head, feeling it stretch before he squeezed the tip and pulled back down. Letting out a soft groan, he forced himself to release his cock and reply.

From: Gerald Parkman

Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 8:03 PM

To: Cynthia Weber

Yes, I am very hard. So much so that I can't help but stroke myself as I read your emails. Imagining your lips wrapped around me is the sexiest image in the world. I can almost feel your tongue sliding around the head, and those pretty brown eyes looking up at me.

If only it were my fingers on your nipples right now, or my mouth. I would love to suck on them as I slid my fingers into your tight, little quim. Slide your own finger inside of yourself...tell me how it feels.

* * *

Cynthia was lightly panting now, her eyes skimming over the words as she gave her nipple a rather hard and sudden pinch that made her moan. It was so filthy, talking this way. She had sent dirty text messages before, and even a couple of dirty pics to an ex in a few emails. But the deliberate descriptions they were giving to one another was rather new for her.

It was unbelievably hot. Even the use of the word 'quim' turned her on, a phrase she had only heard since coming to England. It was unfamiliar, and something about it added to the whole experience.

Licking her lips, she stood up and unzipped her pencil skirt. It slid to the ground, where she kicked it to the side and sat back down in her slightly open blouse, bra and panties. It made it that much easier to do as he asked, and she stroked her inner thighs for a few seconds before slipping a finger under the leg band of her underwear and up to the smooth lips of her cunt.

Already they were slick with moisture, the lack of hair making it all the more obvious. It made her shiver, the finger teasing and probing as she read over his email a third time. For a quick moment, she let the tip circle her clit before plunging inside of her wet warm walls, making her whimper and her hips jerk forward.

Removing the finger, it was still coated with her juices as she began to type once more.

From: Cynthia Weber

Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 8:07 PM

To: Gerald Parkman

It feels wonderful. I am so wet and hot, I can already feel it dripping down onto my thighs. I am shaved smooth, so I could feel that wetness the second I put my hand in my panties, which were also soaked. You are having quite an effect on me.

Your fingers are thicker than mine...I bet they would feel much better pressing into me. Especially with your tongue on my clit at the same time. You would drive me crazy, and I would love you to feel me cum that way.

Then you would know how it would feel against your cock later on...

- - -

From: Gerald Parkman

Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 8:09 PM

To: Cynthia Weber

That is so sexy, Cynthia. I can only imagine what you would feel like, sliding my cock into you. Letting my hands run all over your soft skin, stroking it, tasting your tongue as I kissed you. I would want to go slow, enjoying every moment of your lovely body.

I wish I could hear you as you touch yourself. I keep imagining your voice, the way you might sound as you get close to coming. You must sound like an angel. A very naughty one, obviously.

- - -

From: Cynthia Weber

Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2012 8:11 PM

To: Gerald Parkman

Maybe you should call and find out...

* * *

Gerald was staring at the phone number she had sent him for almost a full thirty seconds before he let out a breath. They had never spoken to one another on the phone before; there had never been a reason to. Their relationship had been just fine online, mostly a casual friendship with a purpose. It had never occurred to him that they might actually speak to one another.

But this was something entirely different. It was one thing to write dirty emails, but another to actually be that personal, and to hear one another for real. It seemed like it might be crossing a line, and a dangerous one at that.

Even as he thought this, however, he was reaching for the cordless phone propped on its charger beside the computer. His heart was racing as he punched in the numbers, hand shaking slightly as he put it to his ear and listened to the clipped rings.

When she answered there was no mistaking that it was her. How many breathless American women would he have accidentally dialed in London?

"Hello?" came the woman on the other line. He couldn't help but notice that she sounded quite nervous herself, a great deal of tension held within that single word.

"Hello, Cynthia?" he asked, as though he were not already sure it was her. He had no idea what else to say, and it was difficult to think past his suddenly dry mouth and pounding heart.

Cynthia was having similar problems, her breath a little faster than it had been seconds before. "Yes, it's me. I...um...how are you?" She cringed, feeling a wave of embarrassment. Had she really just asked him how he was? They had just been talking about fucking; she had admitted to touching herself! It seemed a little late for pleasantries.

"Oh, I am...fine. Thank you," Gerald replied awkwardly. He had been right about one thing: she did have a lovely voice. It sounded young, perhaps even more so than her twenty-seven years. But it was smooth and he found her accent rather exciting. It was just something else that was new he could add to the mounting list.

Little did he know that she was thinking the same thing. One of the benefits of moving to Britain had been the most shallow and stereotypical, in that she found the accents from the region incredibly sexy. Besides, his voice was rich and cultured, and exactly what she had expected somehow. His nervous but polite reply to her stupid question made her smile despite her burning cheeks.

"How are you?" he asked with the same touch of out-of-place manners, breaking into her reverie. But she was getting a hold of herself now, fighting off the heavy fog of anxiety that had temporarily banished her ability to think. While she might not yet be in sex kitten mode, she was at least ready to move them past the clumsy small talk and back into the arousing conversation that had brought them this far.

"Still as turned on as I was when I asked you to call," she replied, relieved to hear that her voice had taken on a seductive, breathy quality rather than girlish squeaking. It was progress, and the step forward seemed to have worked. She could hear the slight catch of his breath on the other line, followed by a few beats of silence before he spoke.

When he did, she noticed his voice had deepened somewhat, become a little more gruff. "I am happy to hear that. What are you doing right now?"

"I am laying back on my couch, almost entirely undressed. My hand is stroking my thighs, and I am thinking about taking off the rest of my clothes. It is really hot in here, right now."

Gerald made a noise that was hard to describe, but it sounded to her somewhere between a murmur and a growl. "Take them off," he ordered quietly. The direct command made her shiver, and she found herself aroused by his control.

"Yes, Sir," she said teasingly. Again there was that catching of breath, but she didn't waste any time examining it. Putting down the phone, she stood and shed her blouse, bra and panties. Naked now, she laid herself back down and took up the phone once more.

"Back. What about you, what are you doing right now?" Cynthia asked eagerly.

"I am sitting in my sitting room, dressed but with my cock out. I am stroking myself very lightly, imagining your fingers doing it for me." He said all this slowly, softly. But his increasing heartbeat belied his calm, as did the slight coloring that he was glad she couldn't see spreading up his neck.

While he was enjoying the dirty talk a great deal, and the thought of her naked on her couch was emboldening, it was still an unfamiliar act for him. Just saying the words was mortifying, though the more aroused he became the less trouble he had with forming them.

No matter what he felt about it, she seemed to appreciate the image. A soft moan escaped her lips, and back in her apartment Cynthia slid a finger between her folds and touched the tip to her clit.

"That's so hot, Gerald," she whispered breathlessly. "I am touching myself now, rubbing my clit very gently and slowly. I can just picture your hands on me, teasing me. Then the feel of your tongue sliding into my pussy..."

He gasped sharply as he imagined all she said. His brain was caught somewhere between the image of her touching herself for him and the way she would taste. While both were wonderful things to imagine, he wasn't sure which he found hotter. All he knew was that he suddenly wished he had two minds to fully appreciate both.

"How does it feel?" he asked hoarsely, his hand tightening on his member and squeezing. She let out another soft moan, making his cock jump in response.

"So good, but I want more," she whimpered, arching her hips as though he truly were there, teasing her.

"Picture me between your legs. My tongue is flicking your clit, just barely enough to drive you wild but not enough to let you come. Now take your other hand and press a finger just barely inside of yourself, still teasing. Not quite pressing deep enough to give you relief..."