It was getting late, and I decided to have one last check on the swingers’ site before calling it a night. As usual, there were a few people online, but a quick check showed I wasn’t what they were looking for. I sighed and was about to shut down the computer when a new profile popped up: 

Wilma (24), Female. Distance within 5 miles. Frustrated female seeks late-night relief from relationship rut! 

I know the site is full of fit blokes and, normally, I’d have said I had no chance but here I was, watching her fill in her profile.  I seized my chance and, heart pounding, I quickly typed a message:  

“Hi, you had a hard day?” 

Just as quickly, a reply came back, “You have no idea!!” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

With that the floodgates opened; she and her partner were supposed to be celebrating their anniversary. It was going to be a romantic meal with some nice wine, then home for a night of passion. She had it all planned, had bought sexy underwear, a few ‘special’ items online and had a vision of a night of fucking ending up sleeping, sore but satiated, in each other’s arms.  

Instead, he spent most of the meal on his ‘phone and then, afterwards, insisted on going “for a last drink” down the pub. Of course, all his drinking buddies were there and so, instead of a night of passion, it ended up being a night of drinking.  

They arrived home in the early hours of the morning with him the worse for wear. He’d had a drunken fumble and managed to get hard enough to fuck her. Before she knew it, he’d cum and fallen asleep on top of her. She’d pushed him off, but he’d rolled over and begun to snore.  

Disgusted, she’d gone downstairs. She’d tried to sleep on the sofa but a mixture of discomfort, anger, and residual horniness meant she couldn’t settle. She’d tried plotting her revenge; what if she packed her bags and left? He'd wake up without her there and it would serve him right!  

But she loved him. 

Then she remembered a friend telling her about this site and all the meets she’d had and so, Wilma was born! The thought of someone touching her up, turning her on, satisfying her needs while her boyfriend snored drunkenly upstairs appealed to her. She quickly created a profile and, before she could have second thoughts, she'd pushed the button and gone live... 

...and I’d responded.   

Throughout this diatribe, I’d been sympathetic, my comments designed to elicit more information, and it wasn’t all for show; I genuinely felt for her. But now came the million-dollar question: 

“So, what do you want?” 

I waited; nothing. Maybe she was just some fantasist who was telling an elaborate story. Maybe she was telling the truth and had changed her mind. Maybe she... ...my inbox pinged. 

It was a long message that set out exactly what she wanted:  I’d turn up within twenty minutes; she’d be watching out for me; she’d let me in, and, without a word, I was to pin her against the wall. I’d kiss her deeply, put my hand inside her dressing gown and explore her body.  Tits, arse, and cunt, it was all mine to explore on one condition: I mustn’t make a sound. 

Then, I was to go down on her and lick her out. If I made her cum then she would return the favour. Once I’d cum I was to leave, again, without making a sound. 

I could feel myself getting excited as I read her message. I ran upstairs, into the bathroom and gave my privates a thorough wash before going back to the computer.  

“So, where do you live?” I asked nonchalantly. 

Her address came back almost instantly along with a message, “You have twenty minutes, starting from now!” 

As I walked there, my thoughts were racing as fast as my feet. What if it was someone having a laugh? I’d arrive there to mocking laughter. What if she was a prostitute? I’d arrive she’d demand money. What if her boyfriend woke up? I could get beat up. What if? What if? My doubts beat time with my feet, and I’d nearly convinced myself to turn around and go home when I realised - I was there.    

All the houses were in near darkness, and I stood there feeling vulnerable, exposed for what seemed like hours before I noticed a curtain twitch. A minute later a door opened and, with butterflies in my stomach, I quickly walked up the path and into the house. 

As the door closed behind me, I turned to look at “Wilma”. It was difficult to see much in the dimness of the hall but, from the streetlight that filtered through the frosted glass of the front door, I could see a young woman in a white towelling dressing gown. She was shorter than me with heavy breasts and wide hips, accentuated by the cotton tie cinched at the waist. 

I nearly introduced myself then I remembered the first rule: silence.  

I took her upper arms and, stepping forward, forcing her back, until we collided with the wall. I leant in and kissed her. She responded passionately, her tongue darting between her teeth and into my mouth, and I felt the first stirrings in my groin. 

Letting go of her arm, I slid one hand inside her dressing gown and gently caressed the globe of her breast. Her body was warm, and her breast was velvet soft. I found the even softer skin of her areola, ran my thumb around, then over the nipple and felt it harden under my touch. Then I rolled her nipple between thumb and forefinger and was rewarded as “Wilma” made a sound, more felt than heard, deep in her throat. Encouraged, I changed from gentle caresses to running my nails over her tits and felt her push her groin against the thin material of my trousers causing my erection to grow harder.  

Now I moved to one side and pulled the chord of her dressing gown loose so the white towelling gown swung apart, revealing and framing her large breasts and round belly. I bent slightly and carefully kissed and bit my way down one of her breasts until I could take her nipple into my mouth. Sucked hard, I pulled as much of her into my mouth as I could before releasing her and playing with her nipple with teeth and tongue and lips.   

Meanwhile, I slid my hand over the curve of her belly and down to find her sex. From what I could feel, she was neatly trimmed, the short hair of her pubic region was already damp from her earlier exploits. I let a single finger trace a path down between her legs, teasing, barely touching until I felt the mounds of her buttocks. I slowly brought my finger back, letting my other finger join it.  

“Wilma” shifted slightly, moving her legs apart and I found my fingers tracing a wet and warm path between the lips of her labia.  My fingers paused over the entrance to her vagina, and I allowed a single digit to slip slightly inside. “Wilma” responded by rocking her hips forward and back, letting my finger dip in and out of her. 

Lifting my mouth from her breast, I stood up and looked at her face in the half-light. Her eyes appeared closed, and her lips, parted, the tip of her tongue just protruding from between her teeth. I pulled my finger from out the opening of her vagina and continued to draw it up her labia until I found the little hood of flesh and the pleasure button inside. I allowed my fingers, so wet with her and her partner’s cum, to circle her clitoris, gently probing while I watched her face and body. She took her hand and placed it over mine, guiding my fingers those few millimetres until they were positioned correctly.  

Suddenly, her breathing deepened. She looked at me through half-closed eyes, giving me a lazy smile before placing a hand on my shoulder and pushing down. I remembered what she wanted and didn’t resist. I sank to my knees and allowed her to pull me into her groin. I could smell her boyfriend’s semen, but this was overlaid with the scent of her own sex.  

I’d always fantasised about licking a woman out after sex, but it had always been just that, a fantasy and, whenever I’d had the opportunity, I had always balked at the task. Now, however, I didn’t hesitate. I drove my tongue between her legs and began lapping at her labia; drinking her juices. Then, using my tongue on her clitoris. I gently inserted two fingers into her vagina and started sliding them in and out until they were slick   

She wrapped her hands in my hair, parted her legs a little farther, and pulled me in closer. The position wasn’t comfortable, and I wondered how long I could keep it up before my neck would ache too much. However, I needn’t have worried. A fine trembling began in her legs, her pussy began to spasm and the walls of her vagina convulsed, almost trapping my fingers. While one of her hands was still grabbing, almost painfully, at my scalp, the other let go. She balled the sleeve of her dressing gown, ramming it in her mouth to muffle the cries that threatened to emerge. 

Then, suddenly, it was over. She gave a sigh, and I could feel her relax against the wall. I tried to continue licking her, but she squirmed and pushed me away. I stood and, as I did so, I let my fingers wander over her breasts. She batted my hands away, shook her head. 

I raised my hands to show I understood, and she took the opportunity to push me back against the opposite wall. She knelt before me, slowly unzipped my flies, and took out my cock. Freed from the confines of my trousers and in the grip of her warm hand, it grew harder, and I looked down in anticipation of watching her suck me off.  

Instead, we both heard the sound of a door opening and a heavy tread upon the upstairs landing. We froze, and I could feel my heart thumping in my chest at the thought of being discovered. I could make a run for the front door but anyone coming down the stairs would be able to see me.  “Wilma" put a finger to her lips and cocked her head, listening.  

Soon we heard the creak of a toilet lid and the splash of a stream of liquid hitting water. The sound seemed to go on forever but after a while, it turned into a trickle and then stopped. Once more we heard the thud, thud of footsteps across the landing. I was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when a man’s voice boomed down the stairs, “You down there, ‘Chell? What’cha doing?”  

I started to panic, my breath came so loud I was convinced he would hear, but “Wilma”/’Chell remained cool, “I’m just grabbing a drink, Love. I’ll be up in a minute.”  

The man grunted and then, once more, I heard his steps on the landing and the sound of a door closing. I breathed a sigh of relief but realised the night was probably over; my erection had shrunk, and my cock was hanging limp. However, if I had given up, ‘Chell or Wilma, or whoever, hadn’t. She used her fingers and lips to pet my penis, slowly stroking and kissing the shaft until, once again I was hard. Then she placed her lips over the head and pushed her mouth down my erection before slowly withdrawing. She began to repeat the action, moving up and down my length, growing faster and faster until I knew I couldn’t hold on any longer.  

Normally I would warn a partner before cumming in their mouth, but the rule was “silence” and there was nothing I could do. I felt my cock twitch and knew it was too late. I had to clamp my mouth shut as I felt myself cum but, if I expected “Wilma” to pull away, I was mistaken. Instead, she kept her mouth tightly clamped around the head of my cock and used her hand to slowly play along my shaft until she had drained me fully.

Then, standing and looking me in the eye, she swallowed and grinned before opening her lips to show me her empty mouth; I had a feeling this was a game she’d played before. 

We both tidied ourselves up and she showed me the door, giving me a quick peck on the lips before closing the door behind me.

I walked home in a daze, hoping that this might be the start of something. Once I got home, I eagerly went online to leave feedback and send a message expressing my thanks, but Wilma’s account had already been deleted.