Dianna’s Awakening Chapter One - Sex Stories

Dianna’s Awakening Chapter One

... breaking the excitement I was feeling.

"Should I reply to them?" I asked.

He stood up and moved the chair back to the sewing table, turned toward me, and said, "I think you should at least acknowledge that you got and read their messages, but I won't tell you which one, if any, you should arrange to meet."

He left me alone with my thoughts and headed downstairs to have some homemade stew. I followed him into the kitchen as he ladled some in a bowl I asked, "Can you get me some please?"

Paul placed our meal on the table and grabbed a two-liter of diet soda from the frig. "Do you need ice?" he asked as he poured us some soda.

"I'm good," I replied.

We didn't talk much during dinner; he had nothing to say, and I was distracted by the decisions I was about to make. When we finished the delicious stew I'd made, I cleared the table and put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. "Will you excuse me for a while," I asked.

"No problem, I'm gonna watch the news," he answered.

I dashed off to the office to re-read the inquiries and decide which one I'd reply to first. I opened The Big 1's message first, not to read it since he'd only typed a few words, but to use the link to view his profile page again. When the page opened, I noticed a couple of things; now that my page is active, the site calculates the distance between zip codes and displays that on the page. Big 1 is 35 miles from my location, and his profile photo, which, for some reason, he hadn't included ...

... with his inquiry opened when I clicked on the small thumbnail.

He was a burly-looking man with robust facial features and dark eyes. He sported a horseshoe mustache that curved around the corners of his mouth and down to his jawline. He reminded me of that guy on television who builds custom motorcycles. I saved his picture in his folder. Scrolling down the page, I read what he was looking for again—a hot momma who can handle a big one and enjoys having a rumbling machine between her legs. In the description section, he wrote; Six three tall, muscular, darkly tanned, usually wear jeans and sleeveless shirts.

Enjoy Country music, Western movies, and road trips on my Fatboy. His fantasies included only one: Live to Ride / Ride to Live. I didn't understand what that meant. When I opened his photo album page, there were three albums. The one marked profile contained the face shot I'd viewed and saved earlier, the second album titled private, and a third titled locked. Any paid member can view the private album, but access to the locked album had to be granted by Big 1.

I opened the private album. It contained eight photos, and the thumbnails were clear, but I still opened each photo. I got some understanding when I viewed him straddling a shiny black motorcycle, which I assumed was his Fatboy. There was a picture of a tattoo on his upper arm; it depicted a bald eagle with two banners mingled among its feathers; one said Live to Ride and the other Ride to Live. The only ...