Sally and I had been ‘buddies’ for around ten months, and the sex was incredible. My lover was more adventurous than anyone I’d ever been with before. I was having the sexual time of my life! We managed to get together once or twice per month, depending on circumstances, and in between times used the internet to stay in touch and keep the spark ignited. We were friends on a popular online social network, and soon began sending each other sexy messages, then photos, even videos. It was like foreplay to us, and served to heighten our mutual desire until our next rendezvous. These messages could be very distracting, Ataşehir Escort especially if I opened them at work. I only had to read that Sally was the sender, and my heart rate would quicken, and sometimes I could feel pre-cum dribbling as I read her erotic message. We would also spend hours chatting on line some nights, and often, as our passion rose and lust overcame us, we would masturbate together. Sally opened my eyes to so much sexual wonder. I was unaware that some women enjoyed anal sex. My only experience in this area was many years previous, when, during Ataşehir Escort Bayan a boozy romp in the hot tub, my poor aim found me inside my wife’s arse. I recalled her gasping loudly, “Wrong hole,” and I withdrew and raised my sights a little. But Sally loved anal, and I was happy to oblige. The tightness of her sphincter was an amazing feeling, and her climaxes during anal were off the scale.I loved giving her so much pleasure. Occasionally, in our emails, we would send each other links to some website or other, displaying things we might like to experiment Escort Ataşehir with. Sally became interested in having a squirting orgasm, so we both read up on the subject, then visited an adult shop together to buy a suitable toy. We were like giggling school kids in the store, and ended up with a bag of goodies. Our shopping included a fleshlight for me, which we named Frances, and a big black cock dildo for her. We called it Jim. Our conversations over the bar at the golf club took on a whole new meaning after that, as she’d tell me that Jim had been visiting, or she’d ask me how Frances was feeling. My mates also noticed my game was deteriorating. Since Sally and I became lovers, my handicap had blown out by three shots. It was difficult to concentrate on my game for the first few holes of a round on Saturdays when Sally worked. The afternoon Sally squirted for me was the most beautiful thing we’d done together.