Karate Ken

We shall call this one Ken, wont explain why, but its obviously not his real name and I’ve chose it to conceal his identity.

I first met Ken when I first discovered the Internet and I set up a cheap second hand computer in the spare bedroom. I was intrigued by chat rooms, the fact that you could chat about anything to someone as far away as Singapore and if you were shy, you could hide behind your monitor and say what’s really on your mind or act completely out of character.

I soon developed a group of “on-line friends” but I specifically remember the moment I met Ken. A lot of the other male chatters were too forward and didn’t waste anytime to ask you for a top-less picture or your phone number, where as Ken took a more laid back approach, which is far more appealing to a woman than an eager pervert.

At first he never gave the impression that he wanted to talk about sex and he was simply chatting to pass the time at work.

He sent me a picture, which later proved to serve him a bit of justice; he had a lovely tan which enriched his dark hair and dazzling smile, not only was he handsome, he was also a high flyer that lived in London and worked as a Sub-Editor in the cities capital Fleet Street.

He had an arrogance that I liked, but was charming as well and I quickly became besotted with Ken and I hung onto every word he typed during our chat room conversations.

We soon developed an on-line sexual relationship which involved always talking about sex, what we do and don’t like, what we’d like to do to each other, sending each other erotic images, him of his erect cock and pictures of me bending over in black fish- net hold-ups or frigging myself wearing an England top, with my pussy in full glory.

He also loved to hear me cum on the phone and he used to call me after dark, to talk dirty to me and make me beg for his wonderful cock.

The only downside to this was that he had a girlfriend which kept us meeting for six months, finally his girlfriend went travelling and he asked me to come and meet him during his lunch break in London.

I was very excited that I would finally meet Ken, I lived and breathed him and that chemistry that I’ve spoke of in earlier blogs was in full effect. So I spent the week before, pruning, waxing and sun-showering. I bought perfume, underwear and a new black, well fitted dress that a cheeky zip that had been stitched in at the front that ran from the neck right down to my waist.

I remember walking through Oxford Street to meet him, the time I’d spent on grooming had certainly paid off, the dress fitted like a glove and my long wavy hair danced in the breeze, I looked sexy and I was turning heads as I wrestled the crowds.

I nervously waited outside the Trocedero Centre scrutinizing any passers by that resembled Ken, he finally arrived, and approaching immediately without doubting it was me.

“Alright?!” he asks in his cockney style accent which I found sexy.
“Eerm” yes I say, gently smiling giving my innocent under-the-hat look.
“Ca’mon, lets getta beear” he says enthusiastically.

I followed him into Oxford Street and up into Piccadilly Circus in single file, I was thinking of his first impression, he looked more radiant and handsome in his photo, but I was not disappointed, as we sat in the traditional London boozer his Robbie Williams style charisma was far more enchanting in real life. I cannot remember much in that lunch hour except that we got on well and he asked me to meet him after work that evening. So I went shopping on Oxford Street as he returned to work and we arranged to meet again outside the Trocedero at 5.30.

The afternoon flew buy and we were back in the Pub in no time. The alcohol was taking a merry effect and we happily flirted in the corner of the pub, reminiscing on all of our naughty encounters, until he finally reached over and whispered, “umm I have the strongest urge to unzip your dress” with that his lips met mine and we had a deep sensual snog over the bar stool until it was last orders.

I was due to catch the last train home and he escorted me to St Pancras train station, through the lights of Piccadilly, holding hands until we got onto the tube. Rushing into the carriage I leant against one of the yellow handrails near the doors.
Ken stood in front of me, embracing me again, frantically kissing, his legs between mine and I could feel his cock stiffen in his suit trousers as he grinded himself into me, into the rail.

I can see out the corner of my eye a Chinese man watching us and I stair at him length whilst Ken roles his tongue over mine and I swear I see a bulge appearing in his pants. “He’s looking I whisper” “He wants some, that why!” he whispers back and we both turn and giggle over at him as we leave the carriage.


We reach St Pancras Station, its such a shame we have to part, there’s only 10 minutes until my last train, we say our good buys in the shadows against the walls of the old station. It’s an intense moment and were still frantically kissing; I wanted him to fuck me so badly and was aching in frustration. Ken massages his hands around my neck, pressing his thumb along my throat, he takes the zip and pulls it down, exposing my little tits to the cold night air, he rubs his hands over each pert nipple and warms them both with his tongue, hurriedly not having much time he reaches into my damp g-stings, where my lips are hungry and sodden, he massages the neat landing strip I’d cropped only earlier and slides his fingers into my tight little cunt, massaging my arse with the other.




I deeply breath into him, the occasional moan escapes my lips as he finger fucks me
until my juices are dominating his fingers and with the same finger he interrupts our kissing and slides it into my mouth for me to taste, he roles his tongue over mine so he can taste me too.

“Umm you taste so sweet,, you’re a very sexy gal Jane” .. “Your soooo sexy” he adds in his cheeky cockney accent.

“Ohh I want you to fuck me now” I say twisting my own nipples.

Again feeling his stiff cock dig in to me, I bury myself into him, smelling him and his masculine scent wanting him desperately, but there was no chance of that, not here anyway so I board my train on a cloud of giddy drunkenness and the frustrations of sexual hunger. I travel home, mentally re-enacting the evenings events and the wonderfully passionate evening I’d shared with Ken.

I did eventually get to do the Full Monty with him …but that’s for another day and another Blog.