Label Me "Leesa, June 2012"

Written by Leesa (the blogger for this site)

I had been divorced for about three months, and my girlfriends were worried about me. I had not wanted to get divorced, but once it happened, I did not start dating again. It wasn’t that I still loved my husband, but that I was very out-of-practice. Before, guys would ask me out and I would go out. This is a new world, and most of the guys I knew were married. Anyway, a good friend set me up on a dating site, to help me meet men.

The first man I had a date with was at least ten years older than me, but of the people on the website, he seemed to be smart, interesting, and well, he was probably quite well-off. Most of the other guys seemed desperate. Even a thick dick is less enjoyable when the guy is desperate.

Since it was the summer, I wore a fairly conservative red dress to dinner. – cut right above the knee, and the neckline did not plunge like a few of my other dresses. It was something I could wear to church, even. Again, he was going to be 10 years my senior, as well. I wanted our ages to seem closer.

Dinner was nice . . . we went to a really nice restaurant, and I was able to order something tasty and light. We both drove ourselves to the restaurant, so I limited myself to one glass of a red wine that my date recommended.

We actually had a lot in common - we were both avid readers, and we both collected books. He collected more first editions and 17th century Bibles. 90 minutes of dinner conversation just flew by, and I even ordered desert to extend the dinner, something I don’t do on a first date.

He walked me to my car, and before I turned to open the door, he kissed me, full lipped, close mouth. A very appropriate first night goodnight kiss. As our lips parted, I cracked a smile, and we talked for a few more minutes.

As I opened my car door, I turned to say, “I would really like to see your books some time.”

He looked at his watch, and said, “Follow me home, and I will show you. I have about an hour before I have to be somewhere else.”

Along the way, I called a girlfriend and gave her the license plate of the car I was following. I have no idea why, since if he was going to murder me, having the authorities catch him would be a sad consolation for my cold, dead corpse.

We arrived at his house, and he pulled into the driveway first, pointing where I should park next to him. The car was in full view of the neighborhood, and I felt safer. He lived in a rather large home, and after entering through the front door, the library entrance was on the first right. And oh, did he have a wonderful library.

I was immediately drawn to some leather-bound books, many of which were in series. The books were well-cared-for, and some of the were rare. All of them showed good taste. Though it is hard to show bad taste when purchasing old books. Tasteless books tended to be printed on inferior and they tended not to survive the march of time.

After handling some of the books with care, I thanked him for the tour, and we kissed again. This time open mouth and a long kiss. His hand wandered to my ass, and I moved them to the small of my back again. We continued to kiss, and his hands moved southward again, this time, his index finger was rummaging around near my asshole.

As soon as it touched my hole, I recoiled and slapped him. I don’t slap men, but the surprise just brought out something instinctual, and I remember feeling my fingers hit his face.

He looked at me, and instead of apologizing or showing me to the door, slapped me back. I slapped him again immediately, much harder, and I could see that it stung. He slapped me again, and then I paused.

My adrenaline was working, I suppose. I was breathing hard but instead of trading slaps again, I started kissing him passionately. We kissed for a few minutes, and he looked at his goddamned watch again.

I slipped off my panties, and announced he was going to fuck me right now, damned his appointment.

He took a condom, and dropped his pants nearly immediately, I began taking off my dress, and then he almost commanded, “The dress stays on.”

There was no more foreplay, but I was surprisingly wet. He entered me quickly, and I can remember staring at the book, and the library ceiling. I remember seeing the start of grey stubble on his face and chin, and it dawned on me that he may be older than he said he was.

Before long, I could see the pained face of ecstasy, and I help his ass with my hands, keeping him deep inside me afterwards for a bit. I had not cum, and I did not think it was possible with this gentleman.

When he came out of me, he gently said, “Your turn,” as he began manipulating my nether regions. My eyes were closed and I was feeling good. All of a sudden, I had a weird feeling, and opened my eyes to see him stuffing my panties up my vagina.

Afterwards he started slapping me, something I had seen in pornos but was unaware that people really did. It was not really all that thrilling for me, but I did feel dirty. I ended up faking a really intense orgasm for the man.

Afterwards he took out my panties and kept them. I was wondering if he kept the panties of all of his conquests. He had enough room in the house to have a small room of hooks, panties hanging off of them. My panties would be labeled Leesa, June 2012.