We’d been planning it for weeks.

Actually, that’s not true.  It had been months.  It was in summer – our anniversary, to be precise – that she sent us a message to let us know she’d be coming out to San Francisco in November and ask if we’d be interested in getting together.  We were pleased by her inquiry, so much so that we took a break from toasting to our marriage and wrote back to let her know that, yes, we were definitely interested.

Three weeks ago she wrote again, this time to give us her itinerary.  We had already arranged to have my parents look after our daughter for a couple days during her visit.  Leaving our child with a babysitter is always dicey.  Typically the relatives we trust to look after her are unable or unwilling to watch her past eleven PM or midnight, and while this is helpful on those occasions when we want to meet friends for drinks or perhaps see a movie, we had no intention of rushing through our evening.  So the fact that my parents were able to take her for as long as they did was quite serendipitous.

She told us that she could meet on Tuesday or Thursday evening, though Tuesday was preferable.  Of course, Tuesday was Election Day in the United States, and a flurry of thoughts ran through our heads.  We tend to follow election coverage pretty closely, moreso during a Presidential election year.  And while we were certainly excited by the prospect of finally getting together, we weren’t sure how this very important election might affect our plans for the evening.  Obviously we didn’t mind skipping the Election Night coverage for once.  Also, the overall stakes of the election had us pretty stressed out.  It would be nice, we agreed, to distract ourselves with a little adult fun.

On Tuesday night we drove out of our  suburban paradise and headed up to the City.  The traffic was considerable as expected, but we listened to the news on the way, and it kept us optimistic.  We met her outside of the bar in her hotel; she wore a black dress, boots, and a red sweater.  We’d admired her for months, quite openly, on her blog and on Twitter, but neither Jill nor I were prepared for just how stunning she was in person.  The first thoughts that crossed our minds did not involve dinner or even drinks, but rather taking this beautiful woman upstairs, stripping her clothes off of her, and having our way with her before letting her have her way with us.

It had been a long day, however, and we were all hungry.  After perusing the menu at the hotel restaurant, we decided to take a walk.  We settled on a nearby spot called John’s Grill, tempted by its promise of 63 Cocktails.  Once inside, we found a mere ten cocktails on offer – actually nine, since the one I selected was unavailable – and the waiter explained that the number 63 is the restaurant’s address on Ellis Street.  Despite the misleading come-on, the food was good.

As we waited for our dinner, we discussed politics among other topics, and it occurred to us that given the  importance of the election our evening would have been much different had our dining companion been a staunch Republican.  In the middle of our meal, as I tried to check election results on my phone, a friend texted me that Obama had won.  I confirmed it, and we all exhaled.  The stress lifted.  We had one thing and one thing only on which to focus for the rest of the evening, and it didn’t involve politics.  Or clothes.

We found ourselves in her hotel room, sitting across from her on the sofa while eyeing the comfortable king-size bed not far away.  I started by releasing Jill’s breasts from her top, doing my best to distract the two women from their conversation.  It worked, naturally.  I asked her if she’d like to have a taste of one of Jill’s nipples, but quickly retracted the offer.  No, I didn’t want to keep both for myself, though it was tempting.  Rather, I was preoccupied with thoughts of Jill and I spoiling our lovely new friend instead.

I stood behind her, nuzzling her neck, as Jill kissed and caressed her from the front.  It didn’t take long at all before I began to undress her, revealing first the sexy black and white bra featured in her Twitter avatar, and then the full and tantalizing breasts we’d seen so often in her online self-portraiture.  They stood close, pressing their breasts together and noting similarities between their respective pairs.  My hand settled between her thighs as Jill began to lick and suck her nipples.  Eventually I suggested that we move things to the bed.  She and Jill lay on the bedspread as I removed the rest of her clothes.  Jill was next to undress, and then I.

We lay naked together, Jill and I each sucking one breast as our hands traversed her fine figure.  Her arousal was evident as we parted the lips of her pussy.  Our fingers worked together, circling her clit and feeling her orgasm build.  But I needed a taste, and I kissed my way along her body before settling between her legs and devouring.  As Jill continued to work on her breasts, I lapped as though I’d never tasted a woman before, and sated myself on her sweetness.  

The exquisite debauchery that followed was eventually cut short by our friend’s need for an early start the following morning, as well as our need to claim our car from the garage before it closed at midnight.  As Jill and I took our leave, it occurred to us that we never would have predicted that our candidate’s victory would be only the second greatest part of Election Night.