My wife could have been a squirter if she were not afraid to just let herself go. But she has always been sexually repressed, though does enjoy it when I eat her. It never seems to take more than 5 minutes for her to lurch into an orgasm when I eat her, and finger her just so. Too bad she never enjoyed sucking cock.

When we first became intimate, she would orgasm in short order whenever I ate her, and I would want to keep licking and eating but would she push my head away and say No! I am about to pee, please stop! I was not experienced at this time, so did not understand what I think I do now -- that she was repressing the urge to squirt. I did understand though that she needed to let loose, and I would have loved it if she had. I was ready to take a facefull of ... whatever juices she was willing to give me. It's not that I have a pee fetish or anything; I just wanted her to enjoy herself to the limit.

But she never did.

Years later, after I had seen enough porn and heard and read enough to know about squirting, but had still never experienced it ... not even after two plus decades with my wife, who over time lost that urge to 'pee' ... I posted an ad on craigslist. The subject line read, 'My fantasy is ... ' and you had to click on the ad to read the rest of the sentence '... to be with a woman who squirts.' The rest of the ad listed my age, body type, and the usual initials (DDF, HWP, like that).

Well, this would not be a story if I did not get the response I was looking for. A charming woman answered, well spoken, and said she might be willing to give me 'a little squirt or two'. We exchanged a few emails, then began writing with our 'real' accounts, not the craigslist anonymized ones. Hers included the word 'puddles -- very promising! She said she enjoyed fulfilling the fantasies of older men. I was pushing 50 and she was in her mid 30s. We set a time to meet over drinks. The meeting took place on a spring evening during a time when our city fills up with tourists for a major, well-known event that lasts several days. The conversation went well enough, up to a point. We talked music and local politics, and she bragged that she personally knew Craig .. yes, that one, of cragislist fame. She was a creative, artistic sort, interesting and sexy with long brown hair and thick kissable lips. I wanted her baldy, and I wanted her then.

But I was upfront with her about being married, so she demurred, saying something about once being surprised by an angry wife while fucking her husband. I could not reassure her that this would not happen with us her. And I had not figured out the logistics of getting a room, with all the tourists booking everything in sight. So she left me disappointed. I admit that I was very saddened by this unexpected turn.

But wait! There's more. A year or so later, I posted another ad, pretending to visiting from out of town again (see my first confession on this forum). And who should I get an answer from but her? I recognized her by her spirit and way of writing, and soon I recognized her 'real' email address. So I wondered how can I make this work this time? Clever boy that I am, I found a way. I wrote back from a hastily created new email account, not the 'real' one I had written her form last time , and I copied and pasted our craigslist messages and put quotes around them to make it look like I was replying to our thread. Anyone looking closely could have noticed the trick, but who looks that closely? As our correspondence progressed and a tryst seemed likely, I shaved off my beard hoping she wouldn't recognize me and crossed my fingers.

Well, it was my lucky day. She did agree to get together, and we arranged to meet at a Whole Foods downtown among the fresh fruits and veggies. She said she'd be wearing a sexy red dress and black pumps. She looked great, got lots of stares and knew she was putting on a show. She smiled when I approached, and happily for me gave no sign of remembering our earlier non-encounter. She did ask why my face was a bit red (I had not shaved in a long time so my skin was sensitive), and I made up some story on the spot about having to use my host's shaving cream because I had left mine at home, and there must have been a slight allergic reaction. It all worked.

I paid for some well-chosen blueberries and cherries and a chocolate bar, to complement the wine I had in the car. She followed me in her car to a nearby hotel and I secured the room. This hotel has rooms that open directly outdoors, like a motel but somewhat better. Just the kind I like. I made the mistake of getting a non-smoking room, but she was able to smoke on the balcony. We had not discussed that.

As for the sex ... it was lovely! She was rich in experience, said she'd been broken in by an older man in her college years who taught her her how to be a geisha -- her word. She never self-penetrated, she said, with her fingers or toys; that was part of her training. Her tits were warm and wonderful and she let them and her long hair brush against my stomach and cock as she lay above me, between licks and kisses. When I ate her, she insisted that I only lick her clit... that was the one way to move her. She would reach for a cherry or blueberry, take a bite and then rub her pussy juices on it before lifting it to my lips. and did the same with pieces of chocolate. And yes, she did squirt, a sweet, musky liquid that turned me on enormously and made my cock grow so hard. She was adept at role-playing, and spoke in different voices as the evening wore on, sometimes talking in the voice of an innocent twenty year old being seduced by an older man. I am not into girls that young, so she did not carry on in that way for very long. I mention it to give you a sense of her style and talents. She was beyond creative, magical in her gestures and words. This was pre-viagra, alas, or I would have fucked her deep, deep into the night. But we enjoyed ourselves.

I never told her that this was not our first but second encounter! I would not mind running across her someday, and can't imagine how she'd recognize me after all these years, especially since i almost always have a beard. But I'd know her and would contrive some way of engaging her and then see where it takes us. I'd love to take her to bed with me again, and again, and take another mouthful of her musky nectar. Yes, I would!

But not to worry; this would not be a last time with a squirter. Some years later, another craislist adventure in another city led to a woman who did squirt, in geysers. More on that in a day or two.