Though I’ve never met you in person, and we’ve been chatting and calling for only a short time, you’ve become a close friend, an adored lover, and my Master.
Since we live across the country from each other, three time zones apart, I thought I’d never get to actually meet you. And, more importantly, as a married woman almost twice your age — my oldest being 25, just two years younger than you — I felt I didn’t deserve you, my sweet boy. But you called me your MILF, and through your care I came to believe I deserved the intimacy lacking in my marriage, the intimacy which you have given me, your slave, your slut, so freely. And somehow things fell into place, and soon my dream of meeting you will come true.
My anticipation increases as the plane lands and taxis to the flight terminal. When I find myself on the walkway disembarking from the plane, my heart jumps into my throat. My hands shake, and I can barely swallow or breathe.
As I step around the corner and the lobby comes into view, I see you waiting for me. Our eyes meet, and my heart quickens. Your face lights up with a huge smile.
I walk as fast as I can, while you run to me. “Sir?” I say tremulously, and you encircle me with your arms and hold me close in a tight embrace. I bury my head in your shoulder, enjoying your musky smell, your firm, confident touch, and your taste, as, tilting my head…
