Meant To Be Together, I'm the One

Truth be told, wanting to masturbate over the mother and daughter photo that Michelle sent me and feeling guilty, when I did, not wanting to ruin my first real relationship with a woman and ruin the first time meeting her mother, if I ever did, that is, depending if I hit it off with Michelle, I forced myself to concentrate more on Michelle than on her mother. I tucked the photo in my desk drawer and forgot about it. Okay, okay, I mounted the photo of Michelle and Diane to my bathroom wall for obvious reasons of convenience, if you know what I mean.

Being the somewhat typically shallow man that I am, as all men are, if Michelle looked anything like her photo, I had to meet her. Moreover, if Diane looked anything like her photo, I was interested in meeting her, too. Blonde, busty, and beautiful, Michelle had all the physical qualities I had hoped to find in a woman. The fact that her mother was hot, too, a real MILF, was a bonus. Only, after Michelle didn't comment on my sexual fantasy confession, I needed to cool my jets over her mother. Yet, setting my perversion aside, even more than the gorgeous way that Michelle looked, a big positive, we were already best friends. Suddenly, with that one photo, our online love connection heated up with daily correspondences and phone calls that were just as revealing as the photos we exchanged. After pressuring her, I couldn't believe it, when she sent me a photo of herself topless.

"Wow! Nice tits. Boy, she sure has a rack." Just like Elaine was with Amanda, I wondered if Diane looked anything like Michelle topless. "Stop it! Control yourself. Forget about her mother as a potential lover and just concentrate on Michelle."

Feeling better after my personal pep talk, the perverted man that I had become, especially after having seen my mother topless many times, if only as a matter of comparison, I only wished Michelle had sent me a topless photo of herself standing beside her topless mother, too.

"There I go again."

In the way that Michelle had just shared a photo with me of herself topless, I knew she'd never share a photo with me of her mother topless. That's just nasty. That's so perverted.

"Oh, Lord," unable to stop, I imagined the three of us in bed naked with Michelle on one side of me and Diane on the other.

In addition to having masturbated over Michelle's topless photo several times, the image of the three of us naked and in bed together made me want to masturbate again. I'm not ashamed to admit that I masturbated not only over the thoughts of having hot sex with Michelle but also over having hot sex with Michelle's mother, too. Admittedly, having watched my porn flick one too many times, I reminded myself that I needed to forget about Diane and concentrate more on Michelle.

Being that it was nearly Valentine's Day, being that we were both celebrating the holiday alone, hoping to finally get a piece of the action and lose my virginity on, of all days, the official day of love, I arranged to meet Michelle on that very day of romance. Out of state, she lived quite a distance from my apartment in the city, several hundred miles away, in fact. She was renting a house in upstate New York. Hoping that I wouldn't have to spend the night alone in a hotel, hoping she'd ask me to stay the night, something I've never done before, I packed an overnight bag, just in case I got lucky. Not wanting her nosy neighbors to know that she had company and was entertaining a man, she told me to pull my car around back.

A very small house with the kitchen in sight of the back door, when I pulled up to her house and walked up her back steps, I saw her through the side glass of the back door. Not hearing my car, she was standing at the kitchen sink with her back to me. As soon as I saw her, so taken with her, I forgot all about her mother.

I remember that first vision of her and that first vision of her ass, as if it was yesterday. She was wearing tight jeans that hugged and served up her buttocks, as if on a platter. Always a breast man before, suddenly, with the ass on this woman, I was an ass man, too, now. Fortunately, with her being as busty as she was curvaceously shapely, I didn't need to make a choice of preferring her ass or her breasts. She had an abundance of both.

"Oh, my."

About to ring the bell, I stared at her ass, as I stood at her door. As is she knew I was standing there watching her, she turned to face me. Hard to believe, with her looking so hot in her picture, she looked so much better in person. Being that her favorite color was blue, she was wearing a tight, low cut, blue top. The cavernous line of cleavage that she displayed, hinted at the excitement that lay beneath her blouse and her bra. Oh, yeah, she had big tits alright and I couldn't wait to be invited to touch them, feel them, see them, fondle them, and suck them. With a perfect ass, a beautiful face, big jugs, and the fact that we had so much in common and had already hit it off and established a best friend relationship with our e-mails, I was now thrilled that I was the one and that we were meant to be together.

"Damn, she has big tits and an incredible ass," I thought to myself.

Having already seen a topless photo of her, I knew she had big tits, but to see the two, large impressions her breasts made in her tight, low cut blouse, especially from the side, was so much more erotically exciting than seeing her topless. Do me a favor, I wanted to ask her, but didn't dare, jump up and down for a minute. I just want to see something. Call me crazy, but I think women look better wearing clothes than being naked. Hiding whatever flaws they may have, clothes make what lay beneath so much more exciting and exotically erotic.

Being that it was Valentine's day, I gave her a box of chocolates, along with dozen white roses, no doubt, something that signified my virginity. Wanting to tell her, but too embarrassed to confess, if only she knew I was a virgin, I wondered what she'd say. After all the e-mails and phone conversations we exchanged, after even admitting my mother and daughter sexual fantasy to her, the only thing that I didn't divulge was my virginity. Not wanting to ruin my chances with her, if we hit it off, she'll find out soon enough that I'm a virgin.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Michelle," I said giving her the roses and the chocolates, along with a peck on the lips and a hug. It took all the self-control that I had not to reach my hand down and give her incredible ass a squeeze, but I didn't.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Bob," she said returning my kiss and hug. "Hopefully, this is our first Valentine's Day of many," she said giving me a smile that told me that she knew something that I didn't.

She had made lunch and whatever it was we ate, I don't remember. I was more intent on her sitting across from me than I was with the food on my plate. She wanted to show me the small town where she lived and we went for a walk after lunch. Talking, laughing, and holding hands, as if we were already boyfriend and girlfriend, even though it was cold outside, with her by my side warming my heart, I didn't feel the chill of winter.

We had our first kiss by the edge of a picturesque duck pond. Especially, being that it was on Valentine's Day, the first kiss couldn't have been more romantically memorable. With her breasts pressed against my chest and her tongue buried in my mouth, with all the correspondences and photos we exchanged already lighting our fires, she kissed me with as much passion as I kissed her. If there is such a thing as love at first sight, then this was it, because I was in love.

The essence of her is all in the kiss and after having abstained from sex and after having waited for so long to finally meet someone to fall in love with, my one and only, I empathically decided that I didn't want to be with someone that didn't make me feel something with her kiss. I've had lots of first dates in my time and lots of first kisses. Typically, thinking more about my work than about the woman that I was with, a first kiss after a first date was never anything special for me. Yet, Michelle's first kiss was electric. Without a doubt, just as I was in love with her, she was in love with me. Almost love at first contact of her soft, full lips, when she wrote me that first time that I'm the one, our first date was so romantic that now I was a true believer that we were meant to be together. A solid connection, forgetting all about my mother, her mother, and about my perverse pornographic video, love at first sight and love at first kiss, I wanted Michelle in the way that I never wanted another woman.

Having not even kissed a woman in several months, except for my Mom, imagine my excitement when we returned to the house and made out, as if we were horny teenagers babysitting. Never have I been as excited just making out with any woman. Then, when she allowed me to feel her breasts through her top, while kissing her, I was wild with desire for her.

There's just something so very exciting about feeling a woman's breast through her blouse and bra, especially when her nipples make their appearance in the palm of my hand. Having been a long time, since I've made out with a woman in the way that I was making out with Michelle, it's been a long time, since I felt such sexual excitement. Moving along at an excited pace, with one thing quickly leading to another, once she started feeling my cock through my pants, I started feeling her big tits under her blouse and fingering her erect nipples through her bra. Then, not sensing any red lights, with green lights all the way, I started to unbutton her blouse.

Expecting her to tell me to stop, unbuttoning one slow button at a time, in between deep wet kisses, and stopping to see what each unbuttoned button revealed before continuing, when I unbuttoned the last button, I flayed open her blouse. The sight of Michelle in her pale blue, lacy bra was a sight to behold. She had the kind of deep cleavage that I couldn't wait for her to bury my cock in, while leaning down to take my erect prick in her mouth. Oh, my God, she had such a beautiful body. Feeling the weight of her breast through her bra, first one and then the other, while running my fingers across the impressions her nipples made in her bra was so very exciting for me to do. Her tits felt so firm.

By the sheer passion of her kisses and the hard impressions her nipples made in her bra, I could tell that she was already excited. Desperate to feel and to see her naked breasts, not wanting to be too eager or aggressive, I didn't know if I should just push up her bra or unhook it. Suddenly, afraid that I was rushing things by trying to get her topless, satisfied with my quick progress, thus far, when I decided to reach around behind her and unhook her bra is when she asked me.

"Would you like to stay the night, Bob?"

Would I like to stay the night? Is that a rhetorical question that needn't be answered by a man, a virginal man, who has never had sex? Fuck yes, I want to stay the night and every night thereafter, are you kidding me? I'm in love.

All during my drive to her house, when first driving to meet her, I wondered how to broach the subject of spending the night. Deciding to play it by hear, hoping to maneuver my way to spend the night, I couldn't believe it when she was the one to ask me the question. Did she want me as much as I wanted her? With me being a virgin, hard to believe that someone would want me sexually. Finally, this was it. The point of no return, I was as excited as I was nervous. So long as I continued to play my cards right, so long as I didn't bring up my mother and daughter sexual fantasy again, my virginity was about to end.

Only, now what? Do I tell her I'm a virgin or do I pretend that I'm an experienced man of the world? She may think there's something wrong with me, if I tell her that I've never been intimate with a woman, especially after admitting my sexual fantasy was to be with both mother and daughter. Gees, what I dope I was for confessing that.

Hoping to encourage her to confess her sexual idiosyncrasies, I should have known from her e-mails that she was a nice, respectable woman. After I confessed my sexual fantasy to her, I felt like the pervert that I am for trying to force my perversions upon her in hoping that I could have an intimate relationship with her mother, too. Hopefully, she forgot I confessed that I always wanted to have sex with a mother and daughter. Hopefully, after meeting me in person, she'll think that I'm a normal, albeit virginal man, and not some pervert looking for hot sex not only with her but also with her mother.

"Yes, I'd love to spend the night, Michelle," I said as reserved as I could be, when I really wanted to jump up and down on the couch in the way that Tom Cruise did, when he confessed his love for Katie Holmes to Oprah.

"Only, there's something that I must tell you, Bob," she said biting her lip and showing as much apprehension in her eyes as I had butterflies in my gut.

Oh, oh, here we go. Oh, my God. After writing to her for weeks and talking to her on the phone for hours, after even sharing my sexual fantasy with her, how could she still have a secret? Yet, being the virgin that I was, I had a secret, too, one that I was still too afraid to tell her. Too good to be true, no doubt, it must be something really bad, for her to still have a secret. I just knew she must have a deep, dark secret that would surely ruin all that we had developed. Imagining the worse, just my pitiful luck, is this where she tells me she's a man or was a man, before her sex change operation? I looked at her hard trying to see her five o'clock shadow or if she had an Adam's apple, before discreetly looking down at her jeans and between her legs to see if I could discern (gulp) an erection.

Looking so much like my dream woman, preparing myself for the worst, I wondered, what if she is or was a man? What if she's a post op or a pre op transsexual and has (gulp again) a cock? Then, being the manly man that I think that I am, what if her cock is bigger than my cock? Holy shit, what if she wants me to blow her, before she fucks me up the ass? Oh, boy, even though she's a great kisser and has fabulous tits, I don't know about that.

Imagining the worse, I was sick to my stomach in thinking that I had just made out with a man who, no doubt, had breast implants, amazing breast implants. Yet, after having never felt so much sexual excitement in kissing Michelle or Michael, if that's his real name, maybe all this time I was gay and didn't know it. Certainly, if Michelle is really Michael, I truly enjoyed making out with her or him. Right then and there I made my decision, having already made out with her or him, no matter if she was a woman or a man, since I was already so attracted to her or him, I decided to stay the night. Hoping for the best, figuring it would be just my luck, I hoped she didn't have a penis. Bracing myself to hear the worst, I asked the question with trembling trepidation.

"What do you have to tell me, Michelle?" Whatever it was she had to tell me, she suddenly looked so scared. "It's okay. You can tell me anything," I said knowing that was a lie.

With her being so drop dead gorgeously feminine, I truly didn't believe for one minute that she was or once was a man. Maybe she has Herpes. Maybe she's HIV positive. Maybe she was raped and gangbanged and can't have, can never have, (gulp) sex and/or babies for the rest of her life. Oh, God. Suddenly, I imagined myself being an eternal virgin. Saint Bob, as pure as fresh, white snow, the everlasting virgin, the man who was never been intimate with a woman, suddenly the thought crossed my mind that I may end up with my mother, the only woman who'd want me. I cringed. Please God help me, I silently prayed.

After all that we've written, I didn't think we had any surprises left but, obviously, if she has something to tell me, I guess she didn't tell me everything. Maybe it's as simple and as minor as she's not a natural blonde. Maybe she was married before and is divorced or (gulp) separated or (double gulp) still married and cheating on her husband. Oh, my God, her having a husband would really suck. My first intimate relationship, I didn't want to be involved in the dreaded love triangle. Having watched enough CSI, nothing good ever happens to the innocent boyfriend. Maybe she has a kid. Whatever it was she was about to tell me, I had no idea. Yet, still wanting and willing to be with her, no matter whatever she was about to say, I hoped for the best, while dreading and expecting the worst.

I watched her reach down to take a sip of her drink. In a pensive stare, she looked off towards the end of the room, as if there was someone else in the living room with us. Then, she took my hand in hers and kissed it, before pressing it to her brad breasts and closing her eyes, as if praying to God to give her the strength to tell me, whatever it was she needed to tell me. She took a big breath, before opening her eyes and reestablishing eye contact with me. Then, taking another big breath, she gasped it out, as if she was a baby and I had just burped her.

"I'm a virgin," she said, as if all three words were one word. She gave me a look that told me that she was expecting me to bolt, run, and flee, while screaming obscenities.

She said the three words, I'mavirgin, so fast and so closely connected together that had I not been a virgin, too, I never would have understood what she said. Is that it? Is that all? She's a virgin?

Relieved that her one and only secret was that she's a virgin, I was so glad that she wasn't a man. Relieved that she didn't have HIV, I was relieved that she wasn't gangbanged, could have children, and, monumentally more importantly, could also sex. I don't believe it. Oh, my God. No longer seeing myself with big, white feathery wings, as Saint Bob, the eternal virgin, I was so very happy. This is too funny. Maybe after all of this indecision, I am the one and we were meant to be together.

"You're not going to believe this, Michelle," I said with a wide grin.

"What?"

"Something else we have in common," I said looking at her with eagerness to tell her. Knowing now that my virginal confession may show me in a positive light, after my premature sexual fantasy confession of wanting to have sex with a mother and a daughter, I was thrilled to tell her my sexual status. "I'm a virgin, too."

We looked at one another in shock, before we both burst out laughing. Here I was thinking that I was an oddity, when I just met my counterpart, a female version of me, another middle aged virgin. What are the odds of that?

"Well, I guess we'll have to take things slow and teach one another what to do."

"Yeah, maybe we can go to the mall first and buy Sex for Dummies or in our case, Sex for Virgins."

"I'll be back in a moment," she said giving me a kiss and a hug, before excusing herself to go upstairs.

A few minutes later, looking much like my imagined vision of Aphrodite, the Greek Goddess of love and beauty, she returned wearing her sheer, sexy, pale blue, and virtually see-through nightgown, and carrying a small towel to cover the sofa cushion and a sheet to cover the sofa. Now, even though I'm a 40-year-old virgin, a man who has never had sexual intercourse, it didn't take me long to understand that, when a woman removes her clothes and dons her nightgown in the middle of the afternoon, she's not tired. Moreover, when a virginal woman covers the sofa with a sheet and the sofa seat with a towel, sleep has nothing to do with her wearing a sexy nightgown and/or covering the sofa with a sheet and a towel. Chances are good that we're both about to get lucky and have sexual intercourse.

She sat on the couch beside me and, as if her body glistened with stardust, able to see most of her breasts through the sheerness of her nightgown, I found it hard to believe that I could be any more excited than I was, when kissing Michelle, but I was. Now, with her sitting there so ready and so willing, waiting for me to hold her, kiss her, touch her, feel her, and fondle her, wanting to savor the very moment of my lost virginity, before plunging myself into her wet warmth, I paused. Okay, that's enough reflection. I need to make love to this sexy bitch.