Lesa and I were after the same thing. We both were mature, already in our early sixties, but that didn't mean we had stopped WANTING to have passionate sex. The problem was that neither of our spouses seemed the slightest bit interested. So we turned to one of those websites promoting affairs. We found each other quickly – our profiles made clear we were both professional, successful with good jobs, and plenty of money; just two people looking for an affair with hot, hard sex.

As soon as we started emailing, it was clear there was a connection. We both were raunchy and dirty-minded and wanted to have passionate sex without inhibitions. I told Lesa in writing what I wanted to do with and to her and left nothing to the imagination. That only seemed to turn her on more. I could tell she had a filthy mouth – and liked to do things with it besides just talking. 

We decided to be prudent and meet first for coffee one morning. Lesa was as described: Cute face, a bit petite height-wise, with perky tits, and nice cleavage. Her short, blonde hair begged for me to pull it. It didn't take long though, before we were in the back seat of my car – groping and grunting. Lesa pulled my cock out and started stroking it while my hand was down inside the waistband of her yoga pants, with one, then two fingers, inside of her pussy. We were like two teenagers at a drive-in movie. Fortunately, it was a Sunday morning, and no one was around the car.

It was clear though, that, while probing in the backseat was fun, that wasn't what we really were after. We wanted to meet in a hotel, so we could spend an entire night together kissing and sucking and fucking and cumming over and over. So we made plans.

We started with a nice romantic dinner at the steakhouse attached to the hotel, but with a twist. I made a reservation at the kind of place with semi-circle booths so we could sit side by side. It had long tablecloths, and I told Lesa to wear a dress with no panties on. We started with a bottle of Shiraz, and before long, we were feeling buzzed. The better for lack of inhibitions.

By the time we had ordered, my hand was inside Lesa's thighs – working slowly up to her bare pussy. When my finger reached her clit, it was already engorged, and her slit was dripping wet. As discreetly as possible, I inserted my finger, searching for the G-spot, while my thumb massaged her clit. 

Lesa was so worked up. I could tell that she wanted to scream out, but instead, she just kept whispering, "More. More, please. Please. Please."  

Then Lesa just shuddered, and I felt her pussy convulse. It squeezed my finger, and she opened her mouth in a long, silent, "Ahhh."

Lesa's face was beet red, and the waiter arrived with our steaks. He asked her, "Is anything wrong, ma'am?" 

Lesa responded, "No, I'm fine, I'm just a little bit hot." He gave her a sideways look, and I could tell HE wanted to fuck her also.

What Lesa really wanted to say was, "My lover just brought me to an intense orgasm with his fingers under the table, and I wanted to shout out but had to hold it in. That's why my face was red."

As you can imagine, we ate quickly as Lesa's free hand stroked my now rock hard cock, which was desperate for its own release. Meanwhile, I took my pussy juice-coated fingers, and dipped them in the au jus cup, then poured it over my steak.

I paid the check with a healthy tip, and we headed to the elevator hand-in-hand. As soon as the elevator doors opened on our floor, we practically ran down the hall to the room. We had a big night ahead, and it was just starting.