Bob Evans Meeting

Posted by: Author: Age: 54 Posted on: 0 comments
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Who would have guessed? I was starving on a Friday evening and away on a business trip. It was 9:00pm and I was heading back to my hotel after a meeting when I pulled into a Bob Evans. The place was absolutely packed and the hostess said that the only available seating was at the counter. I had been hoping to sit at a booth but I took it and sat down. The waitress promised that if a table came up she would move me.

A few moments after I was seated a lady who looked to be about 60 was seated next to me. She was chubby, blond, very tall and attractive. She was also visibly disappointed that she was not going to sit at a table. She was carrying a copy of the New York Times.

Although it was totally unlike me I told her that I understood her disappointment and asked if she had planned to enjoy a quiet meal while reding the paper. She laughed and told me that she was antisocial and hated sitting at a booth. I made a joke and told her that I was the same. The next thing I knew were were having a comfortabe conversation. We both ordered, but shortly after our meals arrived the waitress offered me a table. I asked my new friend if she cared to join me, noting that a beautiful woman should never be forced to eat alone. She made a joke and told me that it had been decades and several pounds since anyone had paid her such a compliment.

Five minutes later we were seated together and having an unbelievable conversation. Somthing about the chance meeting released our inhibitions and we skipped from topic to topic chatting about her divorce and my relatively unhappy marriage. She told me that she left her husband because he was not at all interested in her physically and she was crushed by his lack of attention. I countered by telling her that I found her to be very sexy and enticing. As I spoke I could see the size and shape of her breasts and it seemed that her nipples were becoming more and more prominent. She caught me looking and laughed. They don't usually come to life so easily, she said.

Over desert she asked where I was heading next and I said back to my hotel which was only a few blocks away. She asked if our converstion had made me horny and if I would relieve myself when I got to my room. I countered by asking her the same question. Her answer shocked me. She told me that Friday was her regular day. She went home from work, showered, went out to eat almost always at Bob Evans, read the New York Times, and then went back to her apartment where she masturbated. It was a weekly ritual.

Just once a week? I asked.

That seems to be all that I need, she answered.

Working up my courage I asked if she would be interested in joining me in my room so that we could watch each other masturbate. It's a shame to have sex alone too I added.

At first she objected saying that she was ten years older than I was and that I was married. But finally she relented. She followed me to my motel, went into my room and sat in the easy chair next to the bed. I'm not sure about this, she said.

But I was. In a minute I had taken my clothing off plopped myself down on the bed and begun a slow but steady stroking on my penis.

She couldn't take her eyes off of my penis and before too long her hands had wandered to her crotch. She was wearing a dress, but when she lifted her legs up onto the edge of the bed I could see that she was not wearing panties. Her fingers had easy access to her vagina and soon I could hear the steady squishing of her fingers against very wet skin.

I stopped and told her that I needed to see her breasts. She said that she was overweight and embarrassed to take all of her clothing off. I begged. Finally she opened the top buttons of her dress and her breasts popped out. Her nipples were amazing, rocketing out to nearly an inch in length. No wonder they had shown through two layers of clothng at the restaurant. I asked if I could touch her nipples. She agreed but asked me not to go any further. I stood and took both of them gently in my fingers and massaged them while she continued to work away at her vagina. Her breathing grew rythmic and heavy and then while I applied pressure to her nipples she shuddered, screamed in a whisper and twisted violently from side to side.

I sat just in front of her on the bed and began to violently rub at my own penis until cum spewed out landing all over her and the floor. She stood up staggered toward the bed and fell in a heap moaning and grabbing at her vagina again. I asked if I could help her and she signalled that it would be fine. Then I knelt next to her, placed my hand over hers and mimicked her motions, working with her until she had a second orgasm.

She got up took a towel from the bathroom and wiped herself carefully. Then she buttoned her dress, said good night and left.

I have been going back to that same Bob Evans every time I am on a business trip, hoping to see my mystery masturbation queen again, But no luck so far.



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