There was something special about Mary, yet there was also a deep dark secret.

Recall, I met Mary while perusing the pages of available women on a dating site. She was forty-nine when we met, a Big Beautiful Woman (BBW), standing at five feet tall with a pretty face and soft, full breasts. She dressed tastefully, further enhancing her beauty. She was sexy as all heck.

Our third date was at her small home, which was secluded in the woods at the end of an unpaved road. I wondered what I was getting into, driving through the woods that initial time.  She waited for me on her porch, looking beautiful as I approached her home.

We kissed on the porch and then left for a restaurant in the area.  I had been to the Boston House many times, listening to my favorite band. It’s a classy place with fine dining in one room and a large bar area in another. The atmosphere was relaxing and yet sophisticated, all wood and beams and muted lights.

We enjoyed sitting in the bar area. The vibe was perfect. It was here I discovered that Mary knew cocktails and mixology. This woman had so many talents. We went to the Boston House bar many times, and I would always defer to her, allowing her to select a special cocktail for us to start the date. This was fun, and most times, she selected a great drink.

The first year we dated, we alternated being at my apartment or her place, which we aptly dubbed, “Mary’s Little Place in the Woods”. My memory of this time, almost nine years ago, is a little murky. We fell into a routine where we enjoyed each other’s company, spending our time at each other’s homes and occasionally going out to dinner.  We didn’t do traditional dating things, like going to movies or socializing with each other’s friends. I’ve never met her family, and she never met mine.

There was a reason for this.

I had a deep dark secret.

I was dating other women, including a lady that I would eventually share a home with. I was not proud of this; Mary deserved better. However, she didn’t seem to question our dating routine - no idea why. She was not aware of my other dating, and she certainly did not know about my serious relationship with Sally (not her real name). She worked long hours. I suspect she was not dating anyone else.

When we were together, it was simply magical, the passion was far beyond what I experienced with any other woman.

I recall one time when Mary greeted me at her home, wearing only panties. As I drove up her driveway, she was standing there on her small porch, her magnificent breasts welcoming me. I was stunned and excited and eager to see what she was up to. She waited patiently as I unloaded my overnight bag and wine. When I climbed the stairs, she gave me a passionate kiss and, after a quick look around, she got on her knees. 

Mary said, “I know you had a tough day sweetie.” She continued, “Let Mary take care of you.” 

With a sly smile, she undid my pants and underwear and proceeded to suck my cock until it was rock-hard. Right there on the porch. Being in the woods has its advantages sometimes. She licked my shaft up and down, ever so slowly. When her warm wet tongue reached my cockhead, my body would stiffen. I was so anxious to cum in her willing mouth. She swallowed my cock whole, taking it deep in her mouth, then reaching for my balls and caressing inner thighs... That was simply too much. I exploded hard in her mouth. My legs wobbled to hard, I thought I’d fall off the porch.

She licked me clean for another few minutes. She then stood up and said, “Welcome to Mary’s Little House in the Woods. Your cocktail is waiting for you.”

With a smile, she turned and went inside. Did I add she was an excellent host?

So why didn’t I allow us to have a real relationship? I suspect that it was my addiction to her passion and sexuality. In a real committed relationship, I have found, this level of sexual excitement happens, but it is infrequent. In a real, “normal” relationship, there are plans and schedules, social events, and the like.

With Mary, it was with just incredible passion and sex with each visit.

Truthfully, Mary was a slut, although she would never admit it, and I would never call her one. I have a slut I visit with occasionally and call her one in her presence. Instead, Mary and I would express our love for each other, and mean it. With Wendy, my infrequent slut, I would never profess my love. Sure, I love sex with Wendy, but I am not in love with her.  I was in love with Mary, who was a secret slut, or just incredibly sexual, or both.

In my next story, I relocated with Sally, leaving the area, yet somehow kept seeing Mary.