I keep visiting lots of online forums and chatrooms related to sex and lesbians, to meet like-minded people and find out more about myself. There, I met Martina. She’s 9 years older than me and bored in her marriage, so while looking for a new rush she tried to find out how it would be with a woman.

We liked each other right away and were both noobs in the chat (though I’ve been there a little longer than her) and soon we were talking about what we both like doing and how we’d do it to one another. One thing lead to another and I soon had my fingers on my pussy while I tried turning her on.

Martina couldn’t or wouldn’t masturbate by the computer, but made sure I got my fair share. She had a fetish for tits and was very proud of her own bust, which she classified as a 38 D. It seemed a bit much for me, especially since she said she was otherwise quite slender and kept her weight, but had a great “latina ass”. But then, I’m just a 34 B, and I’m a sports hater.

Besides that, she was very submissive and wanted me to call her my “slave”. I thought it odd at first, but it seemed to really turn her on, so with time I enjoyed our little role-play as well.

Some day we wanted to meet in person. We live about 200 km apart, it was summer and we were both curious. So we set up a date, a small town, about halfway between both of our homes. Martina was there before and suggested an icecream parlour by the market square. She gave me another description of herself, so I might recognize her. (We didn’t feel comfortable sending photos at the time.) I just said she’d know it’s me - that’s how it is as a redhead, you’ll get noticed.

So I drive to our meeting point and the whole time I’m thinking about what I might do with her when I meet her. Are we just acquaintances? After all, I masturbated several times with her, and she knows more about my secret longings than anyone else. And I know about her fantasies with her friend Cora, or that she wants to be my slave.

Should I just treat her like I did in the chatroom? That’d be daring in public, but it made me wet just thinking about it. Finally, I decided to just wait and see what happened, but was resolved not to hold back.

I found the market square (thanks to GPS) and the icecream parlour as well. She was already there and seemed quite nervous. She wore a pair of tight, stone-washed jeans and a white tube top which accentuated her body nicely. She didn’t lie about her breasts, they were nice and big and nicely shaped. Her hair was long, straight and black, and her face was pretty, in a classical, regal looking way.

I just wore a short, yellow dress with not much underneath. “Hey Martina,” I said and walked up to her as if we knew each other for years. “How are you?”

“Kat?” she asked and stared at me incredulously. She smiled. “Thank god, I thought already...”

“ ... That I wouldn’t show up?” I asked. “Or that I’m a guy?” She laughed. She had a beautiful, open laugh, and her face was so pretty I wondered why she put so much work into her body.

I sat down next to her. The café had only a few other visitors, a few schoolgirls sat on a table across from us, and a couple seemed to be sitting inside. Other than that, it was empty. The waitress came up and I ordered a big sundae with cream and Cappuccino. Martina sipped her espresso and said she needed to watch her weight. I never cared about my weight, so I enjoyed myself.

“You can have some pussy cream with your coffee,” I laughed. “That’s guaranteed low-cal.”

She blushed. She seemed to be more shy in real life than online. “Kat!” she acted indignant, but didn’t say anything else.

“How’s the sex life?” I asked.

“Well,” she said. “Nothing special. I mostly do it myself, if I even have the time, so not very much. And then I think of...” she paused when the waitress came to bring my order.

Without taking notice of her, I continued: “ ... of when you’re fisting my twat while I’m eating you out?” This was one of our fantasies, and Martina wanted to sink into the ground for shame while the waitress gave her best to act like she didn’t hear any of that.

I thanked her and got started on my icecream. “Oh god Kat,” Martina said. “You’re crazy.” I smiled. “Do you even know how horny these thoughts make me feel?”

I raised my eyebrows. “No clue,” I said. “As horny as me?” She laughed again. “So tell me,” I asked. “Is it at least good when you come from that?”

She looked around and whispered as she leaned in: “You have no idea ... Last night, I gave myself a long nice shower in preparation for today, and I thought of our hot chats. And I just peed nicely on my hand and rubbed it all over my tits while I thought of you doing that to me. You know, like that one time.” I nodded and remembered one of our chats, when we found out we both liked water sports. She sipped her espresso again.

“So what about it?” I asked and pointed at the cup. “Pussy cream?”

“Mmmh,” she moaned. Without asking further, I pulled up my skirt and inserted the long icecream spoon between my legs. It was cold and hard, and I spread my labia while guiding it into my pussy. “Kat,” Martina hissed. “They’re looking at you!” I looked up and the teenage girls from the other table were giggling and whispering. I turned the spoon inside me and pulled it out, holding it up to Martina, who took it reluctantly in her mouth, but started sucking it thoroughly. Again, giggles from the other table.

“God, you turn me on,” she said. I smiled again.

“Are there any bathrooms here?” I asked the waitress as she was passing by our table again.

“Inside,” she replied and pointed.

“What’re we waiting for?” I asked Martina and looked deep into her eyes. She stared at me again, but followed my lead. I secretly took the spoon with me in my handbag.

The bathroom was very small, just a tiny room with a sink out front. We squeezed in anyway and locked the door behind us. I immediately grabbed Martinas tits. She moaned: “Those have been neglected for a long time.” I pulled her top under her breasts and weighed them admiringly in my hands. They really were her whole pride and joy, and rightfully so. I began sucking one with pleasure. Martina leaned against the wall and let me take her, while unbuttoning her jeans and sliding a hand inside them. I grabbed her tight butt while I pulled a nipple with my teeth.

“Did I allow you to touch yourself, slave?” I asked sternly.

Martina pulled her hand back and said meekly: “No goddess, may I?”

“May I what?” I replied.

“May I play with myself, mistress?” she asked shyly.

I bit her breast harder and slapped her bum: “How do we say?”

“May I jack off my cunt, mistress?” she said somewhat more determined.

“Pull down your pants,” I ordered. She slowly peeled off the tight jeans and let it fall to the ground. Her pussy was a dream. Nice dark pubic hair was growing all across her vulva, and below her wet labia were glimmering.

She saw my satisfied smile and said: “I let it grow out just for you, goddess. So you’ll be satisfied with the cunt of your servant.” I nodded and turned her around towards the wall, to get a better look between her legs. There, I noticed the little slut didn’t come unprepared: A nice, black plug was lodged firmly in her ass.

I turned it, and began to move it inside her butt, which she visibly enjoyed. “Oh mistress, do you know how much I longed for that?” I didn’t answer and instead worked her some more with the plug, then pulled it out and pushed it back in, over and over, until I could fuck her tight “latina ass” nicely with it. She moaned louder.

“That’s how you like it,” I hissed in her ear. “Straight up the ass.”

“Oh yes, mistress,” she answered. “I’m such a little anal whore who needs it up her asshole constantly. My dirty hole is just there to be used by you.” I fucked her hard with the plug while I pulled her hair back and pressed her tits against the cold tiles on the wall. She squealed and whimpered, when she came, and stood there for a while gasping for air, the plug still inside her.

I sat down on the toilet seat and spread my legs. “Come here,” I ordered. She knew what time it was and knelt willingly on the floor in front of me. I pulled up my skirt and she purred happily at the sight of my red bush.

“Wow, I did...” she started to say when I interrupted her harshly by aiming a spray of pee straight at her face.

She slurped and drank. It was hotter than I ever imagined it. I pissed on her, and she swallowed it happily, as if she never did anything else. I wondered if her mind wasn’t dirtier than she would let on, because now she was “in the mood” she didn’t know any boundaries. What she couldn’t swallow she let run down her tits, where it dripped on the floor. When I was finished, her white top was soaking wet and had a yellow stain. It didn’t seem to bother her. She licked the last drops out of my pubic hair and then looked up at me. “Give me the fist,” I said.

“Should I really, mistress?” she asked and looked at her hand. She had a few clunky rings on her fingers and several bangles that clattered on her wrist.

“Blast my cunt, slave,” I replied and pulled my twat wide open. I wanted her to look deep inside my hole, into the muff of her mistress, which she had to obey and be obedient to. She pressed her fingers tight and pushed the tips into my hole. They slid in easily, still wet from pee and pussy slime. She moved them gently back and forth, going deeper inside. Her rings rubbed nicely at the walls of my vagina and she only stopped when her knuckles and thumb reached my labia. She looked at me once more, just to make sure, then pushed it in with all her strength.