Editor's note: Madeline's accounts of her trip to New York begin here.
When Madeline made her first visit to New York in April, I pulled out all the stops.
We had met online when she stumbled across my blog and dropped me a note. We had a lot in common, it seemed, in addition to the fact that we were both raising kids and going through divorces.
Of course, there were differences as well. She is in the plains states, adjusting to a new life in her hometown, surrounded by family and distant from the absent father of her children. I am in New York, far from my family and sharing custody with the mother of my children.
High on the list of differences between us was the quantity and variety of sex I now have in my life. She gets hers, mind you, but with kids home most nights and a more limited pool of local talent than that available to big-city sluts like me, she misses a few opportunities.
For my first flesh-and-blood encounter with Madeline, I offered to share some of those opportunities.
She was more than eager to have some adventure. We plotted and schemed, drawing up lists of things she enjoyed, and things she had never tried.
And over the course of her visit, we gave that list a thorough working over.
Marcus joined us for several days, and the three of us developed a warm and easy-going triad--we were the Mod Squad of Sex. Mitzi and Franz joined us for a fivesome, in which Madeline had her first lesbian sex and received the gay male seal of approval for her ass. There were spankings and ropes and sex toys and all manner of shenigans.
It was great fun, but with some unintended side effects.
Despite herself, Mitzi was jealous. Despite himself, Marcus fell for Madeline. Even my Shelby, who shares my love and our love of freedom, found herself looking in the other direction, waiting until it was over.
Things got a little messy.
In the midst of so many fireworks, Madleine and I had established that we like us some wild sex. We also concurred that we did not want to wrek havoc in one another's lives.
During that time, we made time to establish a physical extension of our online relationship, to explore the tenderness between us--just Madeline and Jefferson. When she was gone, that had left me pondering: what if . . . ?
What if I had made different choices earlier in life? What if I had not been resistant to being content with someone sweet and adoring, such as my girlfriend Pablo, in favor of someone so--to choose a kind word--challenging as my ex wife? What if I had resisted whatever I found so alluring about being controlled, and favored someone who took me as I am?
What if I made different choices about my present life? What if I was not so determiend to be single for now? What if I opened my heart a little more, and trusted that sharing my life with someone would not necessarily mean risking my fate, and that of my children, on another person's mercurial temperament?
What if I plotted a different future? What if I knitted together a new family? What if I was more receptive to meeting "the one," or even marrying again?
Pretty heady stuff for a first date.
Even for a first date preceded by so many hours of online dates.
For our second flesh-and-blood date, we were keeping it simple. Just Madeline and Jefferson.
Personally, I wanted to test drive a relationship. No money down, no commitments, no guarantees.
I'm sure to want a long-term relationship one day.
Could I close my eyes and try the steering wheel, imagining that this year's model could go some distance?
We would have more time together than the previous visit--six days as opposed to four--and I was not setting a sexual itinerary.
In fact, my erotic imagination went to other extremes. I fantasized about kisses, and dreamed of missionary positions.
Madeline and I knew we could burn down the barn.
This time around, we wanted a barn raising.
Madeline arrived my place moist from the sweltering streets.
She looked so . . . well, here is the thing about Madeline's physical beauty. It's a little distracting.
When we are talking via webcams or in person, I am sometimes struck by the noble thoughts of a good son: This is the girl your mama wanted you to bring home.
I am also struck by more superficial thoughts: This girl never pays full price for an oil change. This girl gets her sidewalks shoveled for free. This is the girl that other husbands think about when they screw their wives.
I take great pride that I liked her before I laid eyes on her.
We kissed hello near my door, nice and slow, exactly where we had last kissed goodbye.
"I love you, Jefferson."
"I love you, Madeline."
We did that. We expressed love.
It's no big deal. We're cool. We're grown ups. We can love each other without making life crazy.We know how to be passionate We know how to exercise restraint.
I offered water. She accepted. I poured two glasses.
We talked. Our talk moved to my bed.
We kept our clothes on. I had, in fact, dressed in anticipation of her arrival. No nude greeting at the door, no rush of passions, no rending of garments.
Our restraint lasted several minutes. Maybe even so long as eight minutes.
I was naked first. She was fast behind.
Still we talked, slowly and casually.
Her flesh was so wet. She tasted salty.
Our mouths locked.
Her hands sought out my skin.
I gave into my hunger for hers.
Over an hour later, she asked for a break.
Her body was drenched in sweat.
I sat back. I kept my eyes on her turned face, her closed lids.
I pulled my cock from her cunt.
Finger by finger, my hand slowly followed.
"How many fingers?" she whispered.
"My fist," I said, caressing her cheek. "And my cock."
"Fuck," she sighed. "Your fist and your cock? All that time?"
"Yes, for a very long time."
I kissed her belly, welcoming her back to reality.
While she was out, I was her caretaker. She handed me the key and she was gone.
I surveyed her body. Had I been a good caretaker?
Her face was red from my palm. She requested those slaps. They would fade.
Her clit was swollen. It would subside.
One hickey on her shoulder. Exactly the spot she asked me to bite her in April, revisted in an inspired moment.
Such restraint we exercise.
"You want more water?" I asked.