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You bring your husband a surprise after a girl's night out.

She described herself as "late thirties, medium height, slim, dark hair and dark eyes."

I sat in the caf__ at the appointed time, wondering if she would actually show up. I was nervously twiddling my thumbs when she entered. She looked the crowd over, walked up to my table, and spoke. She hadn't hesitated for more than a few moments; the description that I gave her must have been sufficient.

"Been here long?" she asked.

"No. I arrived ten minutes ago. You're prompt."

"We could have coffee and talk here. But I've arranged for a room at a small hotel nearby. Shall we go there and do what we came here for?"

"I guess we ought to. You're quite direct about this."

"It's best to be direct when the objective is so clear, n'est ce pas?"

"You're French? I thought I detected a slight accent."

Yes, but I've been in New York for many years. Come, let's go to the hotel."

She led the way to the hotel, got the key from the clerk in the lobby, and handed the key to me. We took the elevator to the third floor and entered Room 342. It was surprisingly clean for a third-class hotel. It had a large double bed and a washstand in the corner, just what was needed for a good fuck.

We used that room almost every week, over a three-month period.

She undressed quickly, showing no signs of embarrassment. I followed her lead, feeling somewhat foolish at having her take the initiative. I'm accustomed to being the aggressor when it comes to sex, but she was way ahead of me; she didn't wait for me to suggest anything.

She was slim, with small but firm breasts. Her dark rose-colored nipples stood out, claiming my attention. The curls around her mound had been neatly trimmed, but she hadn't shaved. Too bad, I thought, as I liked my women shaved. That preference was forgotten the first time I was with her and never thought of again. She turned away briefly and bent down to put her clothes in a neat pile; my heart skipped a beat and I could barely catch a breath as the outer lips of her sex peeked at me from between her pale thighs, the tantalizing dark line between them marking the entrance to her most private place.

At first, I couldn't quite believe that this lovely woman was here, with me, to have sex. I removed my clothes and walked over to her, my erection leading the way. We embraced and kissed.

I'll not forget her taste, no matter how long I live. When I masturbate, I picture her and I taste her lips once again. As I get close to climax, the distinctive smell of her vagina fills my nostrils.

After having had sex, we usually spoke, as we unwound in each other's arms, before getting dressed and leaving the hotel. About the third week, she initiated a conversation that led to a major change in our lovemaking.

"Has the sex been what you expected? Are you satisfied?"

"Yes, of course. You're a passionate woman and know how to please a man. Why?"

"Well, cheri, I wonder if you would try something that pleases me very much. And I think you would enjoy it very much as well."

"What! Aren't you satisfied with my lovemaking?"

"Please don't be offended. You reach orgasm before I'm fully ready."

"No other woman has ever complained about that before."

"I'm not an 'other woman', only me, with own sexual rhythms. Let me explain, cheri, please."


"You're frowning; it doesn't become you. I prefer to be on top. From that position, I can control the pace and bring us to climax at the same time."

"You want to dominate me? No woman has ever done that to me."

"'Dominate' is such an ugly word," she said. "I prefer to call it 'control' when I get on top and fuck you. Try it and see how great it feels."

I hesitated after she said that.

"Are you a typical male, who doesn't want to give control to a woman?" she asked.

Since I didn't want to be lumped with "typical males," I said that I was willing to give control to her.

"Well then," she said. "Get on your back, close your eyes, and just feel what is happening."

I lay back and then felt her hand encircle my cock.

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