Month: February 2016

The Man

 

wine

Summer 2014.

Earlier that year, I left the loveless relationship I’d been in for 10 years and moved on.  I loved the single life.  I enjoyed not having to “answer” to anyone about my whereabouts.  I liked having a bowl of cereal for dinner.  I liked my freedom, but I still craved connection.  I wanted a casual partnership, nothing too serious.  I wanted hot, unbelievable sex, when I wanted it.  So I joined a couple of online dating sites and suddenly found my dance card full.  It was quite a ride.

There was the ultra religious man who should have never ventured off of Christian Mingle to the other racier dating sites.  I was too fast for his blood, but we had a good time.  There was a psychiatrist with the social skills of an awkward tween.  There was a retired philosophy professor, old enough to be my grandfather, that made me cum more than anyone had in months.  There were a host of others.  Some of them noteworthy..many of them not.

And then there was Viktor.

He was fifteen years my junior.  Very tall.  Very handsome.  And very worldly despite his age.  He was of Serbian descent.  His family moved to the US prior to the turmoil of the nineties.  He was raised here, but had this European swagger.  He carried himself in a way that demanded respect and attention, yet he was kind and considerate.  He could blend in with a well-traveled CEO or dish with a seven year old about Star Wars.  His range was impressive.  I was fascinated with him.  He had more depth than the average fish in the sea.  He was different.

After talking for a couple of days, I invited him over.  I had a child-free weekend and I was curious to meet him in person.  Being the gentleman he was, he brought over a bottle of chilled Etienne Sauzet Chardonnay that was exquisite.  A man who brings that kind of wine on the inaugural meeting had some serious game and I found myself a bit nervous.  I noticed his impressive watch, as he opened the bottle in my kitchen.  To make small talk, I asked him about it.

“That’s a lovely watch you’re wearing.  I’ve not seen that style before.”  I nervously muttered.

He grinned as he poured me a glass.  “It’s not very common, especially around here.  It’s an Audemars Piguet Royal Oak Offshore.  I just got it as a gift to myself for getting into Harvard Business School.”

At this point, I thought…okay.  Here comes the bullshit.  He’s a con artist.  I mean who rattles off a five word brand for a wristwatch.  And who in the hell casually comments about getting into Harvard Business School.

But this was no bullshit. He was the real deal.

As we made our way to my leather sofa, he told me about his educational quest for an Ivy League graduate degree.  He had been accepted at several of the major business schools in the country (Dartmouth, Columbia, Yale…and yes, Harvard) but couldn’t decide where he wanted to go.  I’ll be crude, but the thought of all that made me wet.  Such intelligence.  Such drive and ambition.  He had old world class and I could barely wait to get this guy in bed. He was so refined.  So successful, that I knew he would know how to fuck me silly.

But that night, we simply talked.  We shared stories, experiences and a couple of bottles of wine (the bottles I had on hand were far less than impressive compared to what he brought) and we parted ways in the wee hours of the morning….without me even parting my legs.  DAMMIT.

I later realized that he was testing me.  He was asserting control.  He was so disciplined that he did not allow our evening to go beyond a hot passionate kiss.  He had me where he wanted me and that was…me wanting him badly.  I could barely plan my Fourth of July celebration, I was so distracted with this enigma of a man.  Again…a man fifteen years younger than me.

Early in the afternoon of July 4th, we began exchanging sexual banter via text.  He was always classy, but had a way of writing that only made me want to fuck him more.  I was a dripping mess by the time the evening rolled in.  He sent a text around 10:30 pm.

“What are your wearing?”

I was clever in my response…”Heels and a smile. You should come see for yourself.”

His response…”Oh I plan to. I will arrive in 30 minutes.  I expect to find you in nothing but heels.  And I will ensure you keep that smile.”

My switch was turned on.  I couldn’t wait for him to get there.  But was I really brazen enough to answer the door in nothing but heels?  I toiled over it for about 15 minutes when I realized that I was running out of time.  So I found a lovely, asset-flattering, low cut black dress, donned my highest “fuck me” stilettos and carefully applied my slut red lipstick (Ladies, you know the color…not berry red, not wear-to-the-office red….SLUT red.  There is a difference.)

He arrived precisely 30 minutes from the time of our last text.  I peered out the window as he drove up in his shiny new BMW.  I hadn’t noticed it from before, but even the car was sexy.  He swaggered out of the front seat and tapped on the door.  My God he looked amazing.  Crisply pressed shirt.  Cuffed sleeves.  Khakis that displayed his taut ass.

I opened it slowly to add to the anticipation.  He looked so hot.  His thick dark hair was slightly disheveled, but he was immaculate.  He smelled divine.  Our eyes met as he walked in and closed it behind him, taking me in his arms, kissing me right there…pinning me to my front door.

“I thought I said, heels only.” he growled between his teeth.  “But this dress suits you”  He took my hand and led me to the couch.  Where he proceeded to open the champagne he brought.  He filled our glasses as he proposed a toast.

“To fireworks.”  And he grinned his mischievous smile.

“To fireworks.” I nodded.  And I drank the entire glass, as if it were a ‘last call’ shot back in my college days.

He pulled me over onto his lap.  I straddled him on the couch  He kissed me passionately, but with intention.  Everything he did was with purpose.  He knew just how to drive a woman mad with his lips.  He masterfully removed my bra, without taking off my dress.  He caressed my full breasts through the dress and then artfully pulled them out of my low-cut neckline.  I unbuttoned his shirt.  He embraced me and lifted my dress up as he grabbed my bare ass.  (I decided not to wear panties).  He squeezed my ass and his fingers found their way to my sweet spot.  I felt like I’d cum immediately.  I was so turned on my him.

He plunged his fingers deep into my sex, demanding an orgasm.  There was no turning back.  I came furiously for him as he watched the results of his handiwork.  I slid down from his lap and took his hard cock in my mouth.  I took him deep.  I loved sucking him, but I longed to feel him inside me.

Once again he took me by the hand and led me to a large armless accent chair. He sat down and motioned for me to ride his ample cock.  I began to straddle him when he turned me around to face away from him.  I positioned myself on him as he found my dripping wet hole.  He slid his hard shaft inside my wetness and pulled my hips down firmly.

“How does that feel?” he asked.

“It feels so fucking good.  I want more.” My God….I sounded so needy.

And without words or hesitation, he guided my rhythm.  He fucked me hard.  I came several times before I felt him become more rigid as he poured his seed inside me.  I loved how it felt as he filled me with his hot load.

We both sat there speechless for a bit, when he reached over and poured us some more champagne.  We finally found our voices as we reflected on our amazing scene.  We talked for a long time.  And while we were siting on the floor, he summoned me to him.  I could tell he was ready to fuck again.  He bent me down, face first to the floor as he took me again.  And again.

That was almost two years ago, and I can still remember the touch of his hand…the smell of his skin.  How he felt inside me. Viktor connects with me on a level that few have, or ever will.  We just get each other.  Even though we haven’t been together for quite a while, we stay in close touch.  There is a place that exists between us where we can be our real and flawed selves (although he has no flaws…in my eyes, he is perfect).  We have such depth together.  I get him.  He gets me.  And we are the best of friends…from  a distance.  He lives two states away and that distance is healthy.  I am in a relationship where I am very happy.  Viktor is unattached and adventurous and still has his wild oats to sow…working as a VP for a European bank, showing up in his tailored Anderson-Sheppard suits everyday.  He is living the dream.  I do hope he finds a woman worthy of him.

As for me, I have the memories of our time together that summer.  So I will close this jaunt down memory lane with the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me…courtesy of Viktor.

hair

That is some serious swagger.  I even published his words on Pinterest…

 

 

 

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?

Growing up in the Deep South, it was an expectation to date within your own race, culture and religion.

I’ve never liked rules.  And I scoff at expectations.

My poor parents never knew who was coming to dinner. (But lets just say I always knew who was “coming” after dinner.)  My curiosity and adventurous spirit led me to some very interesting encounters with gents from all walks of life.

There was Geoff.  He was a restaurant manager where a few of my friends worked.  He was very dark and brooding.  No one called out sick when Geoff was there.  He ran a tight ship and as much as my friends disliked him, I found his power and control a big turn on.  He seemed to like me also.  We began dating and on the first date, I learned that he was Jewish.  I was fascinated.  We talked a lot about religion.  His very orthodox upbringing. His “rebellion” by dating Christian women.  We talked about rituals and teachings.  I was like a sponge.  I learned so much from him.

And then I thought…time to teach him a thing or two…

Although he was older than me by a few years, he’d not had many sexual experiences.  I feel that his upbringing had a lot to do with that.  I was happy to school him in the ways of the flesh.  He was a very tender lover.  Very considerate.  I longed for him to channel some of that power and control he exuded at work, but it just didn’t happen.  He just wasn’t confident enough yet to blend those parts of his personality.  But I could see a beast lurking behind those big brown eyes of his.  But it just didn’t last long enough for me to bring it out.  Our relationship fizzled before Passover.

There was Ki.  His mother was Korean and his father American.  We went to high school together and the bastard beat me out for Salutatorian by less than a point.  I never saw myself dating him.  He was so focused on school that I don’t think he dated much.  We were always friends (and always in competition) but there was no spark.  While in college that changed a bit.  He began working out and out of nowhere…picked up some serious swagger.  The combination of his new attitude and intelligence made me take an interest in him.  We started going out.  He was a doting boyfriend.  Always attentive.  Almost in a fatherly way.  He would ask if my car had gas, if I’d done my assignments, if I’d paid my bills (and offered to pay if I needed) and always made sure I had groceries.  Not that I needed any of this, but he ensured I was cared for.  For him, it was a learned behavior.  His mother had never worked outside of the home and his father handled everything.  She was very submissive and I feel that modeled what Ki sought in a girlfriend.

And in turn, as a submissive…I made sure he was cared for.  I gave him his first head.  And he was blown away.  He had only had missionary position sex and I opened the doors to contortions far beyond his imagination.   He was such an eager student that we fucked every chance we could.  It’s ironic that he tried to control my life in his own way…keeping me on task with the things I needed to do.  And I controlled him in a sexual way…steering the course of what we would do next.  It was an interesting dynamic.  And he loved nothing more than filling me with his seed when I rode him, only to have me finger myself to taste him afterwards.  Our little hot flame went out as he began testing to get into medical school.  His time was consumed with his studies.  But I must confess…I intentionally kept him up all night in a marathon fuckfest, the night before his first attempt at the MCAT.  Retribution, motherfucker…for beating me out of being Salutatorian.

There was Umesh, my chemistry tutor.  He was from India and was already arranged to marry a woman his parents selected for him.  And for me, in my rebellious nature, that posed a challenge.  How dare anyone decide for another person!  (Again…I was naive and headstrong…I had no idea that it was accepted in his culture)  So I took Umesh on as my student.  We didn’t have intercourse, but we explored far more than the periodic chart of the elements.  I showed him how to make me cum using only his index finger.  How to exact pleasure and pain by sucking my nipples.  I pleasured him manually and orally.  I think I even showed him some new hand job techniques.  He was always so grateful for our lessons. I am sure his knowledge served him and his arranged bride well.

And I ended up with an A in chemistry.

There were so many others I brought into the mix. My family finally began asking if there were any dietary preferences or religious restrictions when I said I was bringing home a date for dinner.  They eventually became accustomed to meeting people from different cultures, so I feel I did them a great service. And I didn’t do it to rebel against them or anyone else, I was truly thirsty for knowledge and experience.  I was able to learn things about different cultures and religions, intimate things.  I learned that at their core, men from all cultures and walks of life seek the same things.  Connection.  Respect.  Pleasure.

And amazing blow jobs.  

ki

On The Radio

The year was 1990.

I was on the cusp of turning 18.  For three years, I’d been in a D/s relationship with a man 16 years older than me.  He was my mentor.  My teacher.  My friend.  My lover.  And he was my boss.

That’s right.  My boss.

Since early childhood, I’d always wanted to work in broadcasting.  I read everything I could get my hands on.  I watched how newscasters spoke.  Their inflections.  Their mannerisms.  How they changed the tone and tempo of their speech to make a point.  It was almost an obsession.  And not only on television, but also…

On the radio.

We began talking when I randomly called the radio station one evening.  He was impressed with my voice and asked if he could record me making a request.  Of course, I was flattered and agreed.  We found ourselves talking every night.  Through the phone, I began recording the nightly “Top Nine at 9” countdown.  A few weeks into it, he asked if I could come to the station and do some production (commercials, morning show intros, etc) and I was thrilled to do it.  He then put me on the payroll and I began working there twice a week.  I loved it.

He taught me how to work the control board.  How to announce and promote songs to help move them up the charts.  How to record commercials.  He helped me find my inner actress, as I began developing characters for the morning show.  He taught me so much and our attraction grew from there.  I was always far more mature than most girls my age.  By this juncture in my life, I’d had more experience than most twenty-somethings.

And out of nowhere, the relationship became physical.  And once we started down that path, there was no turning back.  We fucked everywhere.  In his car.  At his apartment.  At the radio station (on the general manager’s desk).  We had this all-consuming lust for each other and we could not contain ourselves.  We also had a deep friendship, which made it even more intoxicating.  I didn’t realize what we were doing at the time, as he never labeled it, but he was my first Dom.  He taught me to serve him.  To pleasure him.  To take whatever he wanted to give me.  I was a natural submissive.  I soaked up all of the knowledge he bestowed and honed my skills.  And as I reflect on our time together, I can now see that he was a bit of a sadist.

One evening, I was at the station, working the board with him, when he began taking my clothes off, while I was on live radio.  I was a bit rattled, but as he taught me…I was to stay focused when on air and complete my task.  I managed to finish my segway into another song before he lifted me up onto the counter and began devouring me. I was so in the moment that I almost forgot to put on the next song.  But I regained my composure and played the next one.  As I prepped a long segment of music (four in a row) to give us more time, I’d hoped he would resume his meal…but instead, he pushed me to my knees and rammed himself deep into my throat.

Three songs played as I sucked his cock.  He taught me how he liked it…deep and slow.  And I obliged.  As the fourth song began to play, he pulled me up, turned me around and spread my legs open from behind…

His fingers dove deep into my dripping slit.  He was rough in his pursuit of my spot.  I was so close…so very close…and the song was running out.  I pulled myself together (with his digits still probing inside me) and announced the weather.  It was so hard not to moan while he finger-fucked me.  But I kept composure, once again, and got through my lines.

I prepped for two songs in row by the same artist.  I thought it would give us time to finish our tryst.  He pulled his fingers from my sloppy wet cunt and had me suck each and every one of them clean.  He then bent me over and fucked me from behind for a couple of minutes, directing me to then suck his cock clean.  The second song was running out.  I was getting panicked that I would miss my cue, so I rushed through his directive and grabbed the mic to speak.

As the first words fell from my salty lips, I felt him grope my backside, spread open my cheeks and push his large cock into my ass.  I know I must have gasped on air.  It hurt.  But it was so hot and so primal that I pushed myself into him, practically begging him to fuck me deeper.  He rode my ass relentlessly.  Growling.  Squeezing my flesh with his fingers.  Pulling my hips on his cock as hard as he could.  Lifting me up off of the floor as he penetrated me.  I’d never had anal like that before.  It is where I first recognized my masochistic tendencies.

Once again I pulled myself together to announce an upcoming contest.  He was still inside me.  He was pounding my ass as I spoke to thousands of listeners.  I could barely get audible words out of my mouth. As soon as the mic was off, he pushed my face down on the counter and filled me with his hot load.  He growled under his breath, “next time you try to rush through your directives, I will fuck your ass harder.  And you will take it.  Understand?”  And boy did I understand.  I couldn’t wait for the next time.

And we fucked like that for years.  On air.  Off air.  In the production booth.  At remotes.  We fucked every time we could.  Anytime.  Anywhere.  And yes…

Even on the radio.  

on the radio

The Halftime Show

The year was 1992.  I honestly do not remember who was playing in the Super Bowl.  I am sure I could Google it and provide you with those additional details…but that’s not what we want is it?

His name was Tim and we met at the gym (the same place I met Tony).  He was a stockbroker by trade that took his workout regime very seriously.  He was ripped.  His arms.  His torso.  His legs.  He was Adonis-like in form and had a baby face to go with that body…complete with dimples.  It was almost too much to take in.  His voice was deep and authoritative.  He was outgoing and friendly.

And we had immediate chemistry.  He was 37 and I was 20. He took the lead and helped me learn my way around the gym.  We started a tumultuous relationship.  On again.  Off again.  Hot sex.  Bad arguments.  More hot “make-up” sex.  Off again.  And we stayed off for a while.  We would see each other at the gym, where we would exchange niceties as we went about our business.  I’d begun using the aerobics room to work on dance routines as I belonged to a belly dance troupe.  It gave me a quiet place to rehearse, with mirrors and little distractions.

One day, I felt someone watching me.  It was Tim.  He smiled that boyish smile and i found myself wet, thinking of how he would feel inside me.  He motioned for me to come to him.  I walked over as he brushed the sweaty hair from my face.

“You are an amazing dancer.  I didn’t know you could move like that.”

I blushed and said, “Thank you.  You’ve seen some of my other moves. Guess I was saving these for a different time.”

His tone was serious, “What are you doing Sunday?”

I had no plans, but didn’t want to seem too available.  “I’m not sure.  It’s Super Bowl Sunday.  I may go to a party. How about you?”

He grinned, “I am having a party.  Come to mine.”

I smiled at the thought, but then remembered how volatile things became when we were together.  I hesitated.  “Maybe, I will.  I will let you know.”

He pulled me close to him and whispered in my ear, “I will pay you.”

Pay me? For what? 

“I want you to be my halftime show.  I want you to strip.”

I was a little taken aback.  Not that I was offended.  Not being prudish.  Just surprised that he wanted to put me on display like that.  But I was intrigued and flattered.

“What time do you want me there?”

“Be there around 7:00.  Have about 30 minutes of dances ready.  I will give you $200 for your time. I want you sexy, not dirty.  Many of my co-workers and clients will be there. No women.  Strictly a guy-thing.”

And at that, he turned and left.  And I realized…it was Friday.

Holy shit!  What do I do?  Which songs?  What do I wear? I was nervous and scared and I LOVED IT.  I went to my car and pulled out all of my music.  I needed to find the perfect songs for the occasion.  Before I knew it, it was dark and the gym was closing for the night.  I’d worked out searching for inspiration…for 3 additional hours and had lost all concept of time.  But in the end, I felt prepared.  I selected six songs.  Everything from AC/DC, to Prince, to Van Halen to James Brown.  It was a sexy playlist and I had special moves for every song.

On Saturday I spent most of the day shopping for stripper-wear.  But came up with little more than some thigh high fishnet stockings, a black lace corset, long black gloves and a black cowboy hat. I had a little black dress and boots perfect for the occasion.

Sunday arrived and I was beyond nervous.  I almost backed out.  But the adrenaline junkie within me took over and I found myself on his doorstep at 7:05.  He ushered me in a side door and had me wait in his bedroom while his guests watched the game.  He brought me a strong cocktail, which was the liquid courage I needed.  I tossed the drink back and waited for my cue.  I’d already given him my “mix tape” and he had it poised and ready.

He opened the door and took my hand as he led me to his game room.  There were about a dozen men there.  All of them were surprised to see me.  Tim turned the stereo on and introduced me as a “close friend” who came to entertain them.

“Tonight, you will remember this halftime show far more than the game itself.  Feel free to tip this young beauty as you see fit.  But no groping.  She is a lady and I hope to have her back for future parties.”

At that point, I heard the first riff from Back in Black and I found myself in the zone.  I’d brought a kitchen chair to the center of the room and straddled it as I began my routine.  I had them in the palm of my gloved hand as I mixed belly dance with burlesque.  By the third song, Prince’s Darling Nikki, I was down to the corset and cowboy hat.  I closed out the routine with James Brown’s Man’s World, a slow and decadent song where I received the most tips, in nothing but my boots and a g-string.  I felt like a goddess.

I received an additional $100 in tips and a roaring round of applause with lots of inquiries about my availability for other parties.  I was not prepared for that type of reception.  And Tim looked like the hero to all of his friends.

“You were amazing. I am so proud of you…and I am so turned on.  Fuck me here.  In front of them.  I want them to watch us.”

I was not prepared for that.  But at this point, I’d had another strong cocktail and I was game for the exhibition.  I looked at him and pulled the chair over to the side of the room, where I motioned for him to sit down.

I knelt in front of him and unfastened his pants, pulling them down slowly.  I could feel his hard cock beneath his boxers as I pulled them off.  I provocatively pulled my g-string off as I mounted him on the chair.  His friends were quiet as they watched us.  I think they were shocked that we were so audacious to fuck right there…in front of them.  He pulled me down on his cock hard as he rammed himself inside.

I gasped with delight as I rode him.  He squeezed my breasts and kissed me as he pounded my hole.  I remember how amazing it felt to come unglued and orgasm in front of a group of strangers. They were speechless.  The game had been back on for over 30 minutes, and the TV was not even turned on.

But they were.

Best halftime show ever.  I don’t know who won the game that year.

But I felt victorious.

the hat

 

One Hit Wonders-Hotel Valdosta

I am back after a lengthy hiatus.  I would love to report that my absence was from some extended hedonistic orgy in a far away tropical land.  But that was not the case.  A little thing called “life” broke in line, stepping in front of this pleasure seeking vixen and I ended up having to do responsible shit…you know, all the crap that has to be done…

When all I wanted, was to be the one getting “done”

During this responsibility-fueled sabbatical, I did quite a bit of thinking.  And reminiscing.  And fantasizing.  And….(you get the drift).  I thought about the gents I’ve written about and the fun times had by all.  I realized that I’d left out some of my favorite stories of the “one-hit-wonders” of my decadent past.

For several years of my career, I traveled.  I traveled from one side of the state to the other, often leaving on a Sunday night…to return home on a Friday.  The money was great, which helped my family.  But the hours were long and I was away from my kids, which was the major downside.  Along the way, I found opportunities to bring them with me and turn my obligatory business trip into a mini-vacation, while I still managed to work.  It was a win-win.

But for the most part, I traveled alone, but rarely did I find myself alone for long.

Early in my career, I went on a business trip with a colleague.  She was training me to take over a region, she had formerly managed.  She could see that I was more than capable of doing the job and left after one day of training…which left me on my own for four days.  It was my first time traveling alone.  It was nice.  I worked hard during the day and then I did whatever I wanted to do at night.  No kids to bathe…no dinners to cook…no husband to fight with.  The first evening, I stayed in my room and ordered room service.  The second evening, I ventured out to the hotel’s lounge and met several interesting people over free wine and appetizers.  On the third night, I went back to the lounge to see my new friends, where I met Alan.  He worked for Target and had just been promoted to a regional position.  He was tall and very muscular, with a shaved head and a devious smile.  We hit it off immediately.

He was charming.  We sat outside by the pool and talked about everything from work to kids to sports to history.  He was a great conversationalist.  I thoroughly enjoyed my time with him.  Around 8:00 that night, he said, “I am going to head back to my room to call my kids and check in on them.  I will be free in about 30 minutes.  Why don’t you come by and we can rent one of those overpriced movies to watch?”

And I thought…okay.  Sounds fun.  I will do the same.  So I called home and talked to everyone.  I emailed my expense report and prepared some items for work the next day when I heard a knock on the door.  It was Alan.

“How about that movie?” he asked.

“Sure. Let’s do it.” I said.

I had no idea he was about to fuck my brains out and ruin me for days afterward.  Really.  No idea.  I honestly thought we would watch a movie.  (My naivety astounds me at times).  

We arrived back at his room as he made a half-hearted attempt to find a movie.  In a fit of frustration, he flung the remote on the bed and said, “There’s nothing I really want to watch, how about you?”

I hadn’t seen anything that interested me either.

“You know what I want to do?” he asked.  “I want to kiss those full lips of yours.  I’ve wanted to all night. May I?”

And then it finally hit me!  OMG.  How silly of me….of course.  He was trying to weave a web of seduction.  My slut brain had been lying dormant and I didn’t detect the signals…but it was only a matter of seconds before I flipped the switch.

“Silly boy.  You don’t have to ask permission.  In fact, I’d rather you didn’t.  Just take what you want.”

That was the nod he needed to proceed.  He was adept and experienced.  Although, I’d opened the door of opportunity (and my thighs) quite wide, he continued on with his seduction.  He massaged every part me as he removed my clothing.  His lips grazed my neck. My ears.  My back.  My breasts.  He took his time and was relentless in how he enticed me with each touch.

His body was amazing.  His large stature and fit physique were a sight to behold, but there was a large scar on his abdomen.  It was where he had been stabbed as a teenager. He was part of a gang and spent a part of his life running with the wrong crowd.  And that just turned me on even more.  I was about to fuck a real bad boy.  I was about to bang a  member of a gang…ha! 

I recall how his mouth felt as he spread me open.  He told me, “You will never forget me.  I will devour this pussy and no one will ever compare.” He’s right, thirteen years later, few have had his talent for oral expression.  I remember hearing myself scream in ecstasy. I remember how his bald head felt in my hands as I held it tightly between my sticky thighs.

He eventually came up for air.  His face glistened with me as he whispered in my ear.  “You liked that, didn’t you?  Now you’re really going to like what I am going to give you.  I am going to fuck you hard.” He pulled my legs on his shoulders and slid himself inside my throbbing cunt.

His cock was fucking huge.  He filled every inch of me and more.  He teased me with his rhythm.  He would pound me hard and fast and then slow and deep.  And he would all but stop, pushing into me until I begged him, truly begged him for more…and then he would fuck me like a wild animal.  This went on for hours.

We fucked all over his hotel room, knocking shit over that got in our way.  He picked me up and fucked me against the bathroom wall, so we could watch it in the mirror.  Then he put me on the bathroom sink, facing the mirror, my knees on the counter with my ass in his face…so I could watch him lap me up.  That was fucking hot.

We got in the shower together and fucked some more.  He told me to suck him clean before we lathered up.  I guess I shocked him with my own oral skills, because he could not hold back any longer.  I will never forget how he grasped the shower rod and almost pulled it down.  He pushed my mouth away and shot his warm seed all over my face.

He lathered my body from head to toe and I reciprocated.  I loved the feel of his skin.  Once we were clean from the ditty deeds we’d done, we got dressed.  He walked me back to my room, made sure I was in and safe, kissed me and returned back to his room.  It was almost 3:00 am.

The next morning we passed each other in the lobby as we made our way to the coffee station.  “Good morning” he said, with that devious smile.  “You look rested.”

“So do you.” I smiled.  “It was great meeting you, Alan.”

And just like that…I turned and walked out to my car, headed to a meeting.  Keep in mind, I could barely walk and my entire body was sore from the night before.  It’s that kind of sore that makes you giggle under your breath.  The feeling that you’ve done something naughty and each movement is a reminder of how well you were handled the night before…

Sigh…

And then I realized…the money is great and the job is fun, but this is definitely a perk of working on the road.

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