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Ray couldn’t help noticing the Queen of Spades tattoo on the leg of the beautiful young white woman smiling and waiving at him from the bar. It was the universal signal: this woman loved black men and couldn’t wait to get fucked by them.

Ray smiled and waved back. This young lady was really hot, with shoulder-length, reddish-blonde hair, pale skin, and gorgeous freckles covering her face and bare arms. She wore a sexy black dress and black shoes. Ray thought about what it would be like to hook up with this beauty.

The young woman finished her drink and walked over to his seat. “Hi there!” she said, revealing a distinct Australian accent. “How was your dinner?”

“It was great,” Ray responded. “How was your drink?”

“Just as great,” she smiled, extending a hand. “My name’s Allison.”

“Allison,” Ray replied. “That’s a lovely name.”

“Thank you.”

“Is that an Australian accent I hear?”

“Yes, it is,” Allison replied. “I moved here from Melbourne two years ago.”

“Cool. May I ask what it is you do?”

“I’m an attorney with mecidiyeköy escort bayan Leverett Michaels.”

“Oh, aren’t they based out of Australia?”

“Yeah. They opened up a branch in the States a while back.”

Ray smiled and nodded. “I’m also an attorney—I’m with Harrison Morris.”

“Awesome.”

Ray and Allison both smiled at the same time. Ray couldn’t believe how beautiful she was. He kept thinking about what it would be like to kiss her soft, pale cheeks and stroke her lovely hair. He hoped that he would get the chance.

Allison removed her shoe and kept playing with his leg under the table. Maybe he would get the chance.

“So, do you live nearby?” she asked.

“Yeah, just a few blocks away.”

“You wouldn’t mind if I stopped by to see your place, would you?”

__

“Wow! Impressive!”

Allison loved Ray’s spacious Manhattan apartment, the art that covered the walls, the dreamlike view of the New York City skyline. She touched Ray on the shoulder and smiled.

“You bayrampaşa escort bayan know, a girl could get used to this place…”

Ray smiled. I certainly hope so, he thought.

The two attorneys had a glass of wine and sat next to each other on his blue couch. Allison reached for his remote control and tuned the channel to AMC. The Denzel Washington film “Man on Fire” was on, and Allison’s blue eyes lit up.

“Oh, I love Denzel,” Allison cooed. “My favorite actor.”

“Really.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Ray smiled. “Any other favorites?”

“Oh, sure. Will Smith, Morris Chestnut, Blair Underwood, Idris Elba…in fact, has anyone ever told you that you kinda look like him?”

“Like Idris Elba? Get out of here!”

“Oh yeah, you do! You’re just as gorgeous as he is.”

“Why, thank you. Not sure I deserve the compliment, though.”

Allison lightly touched Ray’s hand. “Oh, you absolutely do.”

Ray’s cock was raging. He so wanted to make love to this Australian goddess.

Suddenly, Allison escort bayan bahçelievler leaned over and kissed him.

“I figured I had to make the first move,” Allison smiled as she caressed his crotch, touching his hardened cock.

Ray embraced Allison and began kissing her passionately. He quickly removed his black suit, white shirt and blue tie while he stripped off her black dress; they were so aroused they didn’t even bother heading to his bedroom, deciding to fuck right there on the couch. Allison was thrilled by the size and thickness of Ray’s cock, and how dark it looked against her pale freckled hand. She struggled a bit to fit his cock-head into her mouth, but once she did so she licked with fervor, prodding his head with her tongue, coaxing a warm stream of semen into her mouth. After he came, Ray kissed her creamy white skin, stroked her lovely reddish-blonde hair, licked her bright pink nipples, went down on her and finally introduced her white Aussie pussy to big black cock for the very first time. Hearing her cum in her beautiful accent gave Ray a sexual high.

The next morning, Ray and Allison were still quite aroused, so they made love a second time in his bed. After he came once again, he looked at Allison’s pale body, made even more lovely by the morning sun reflecting off of her skin, and stared into her blue eyes. This, he thought, was going to be a great sexual relationship.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

A few years ago, I was a graduate student in English at a big public university in the Midwest. One of the undergrads during my time there was a girl named Madison. She was absolutely stunning in a very middle-America sort of way: Long, blonde hair, with perfectly-toned slender legs that she liked to show off in short skirts.

Her breasts were fairly large, given her otherwise athletic physique, and I noticed her walking around the department right away. My previous relationship was in the process of dying, so I chatted her up right away and quickly realized that she had a personality to match her outward beauty.

But Madison was engaged to a lawyer living in Atlanta, so I never bothered to ask her out.

The fall of my second year, when she was a senior, we took an advanced course on Latin American literature together that met two times a week.

One warm afternoon in September, she sat down a few seats away from me in class, wearing a sporty sleeveless mustard-colored dress that ended mid-thigh. “Hey, Alex,” she said, and I studied how tanned her perfect legs were until the professor, an Ecuadorian who spoke in a dull monotone that was hard to stay awake to, began his lecture.

After class, as she closed up her laptop, Madison pointed to the floor beneath my chair. “Is that a tennis racket?” she asked.

I looked at her blankly, lost in thoughts about Ruben Dario’s verses. I looked down and saw the long handle sticking out of my bag. “No,” I said after a moment. “Squash.”

“You play?”

It was a game that I picked up during my year abroad in Argentina, I told her. I tried to play two or three times a week, but it wasn’t particularly easy to find partners. That might have had something to do with the university’s only squash court being in the basement of the gym, literally next to the boiler room. There were no glass walls, like you see in courts of more modern construction.

The place just sweltered, especially in hot weather like today.

I asked, hopefully, “Do you?”

She shook her head. “I used to play a lot of tennis. Is it very different?”

I started gathering my stuff and half-shrugged. “Yeah,” I said, “but I’m sure you could pick it up easily.”

We both stood, and she gave me a critical once-over. I was in my late 20s, had a full, dark beard and the bare beginnings of a paunch. “I bet I could beat you,” she said.

I said, “You’re obviously in great shape, but squash is about technique not fitness.”

“Sounds like a cop-out,” she answered with a crooked little smile.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” I asked. “I reserved the court for 9 p.m. and have no one to play with.”

My most frequent playing partners were Brad, a third year in law school, and Tom, a junior professor in sociology, but my schedule didn’t jibe with theirs very well.

“Great,” she said, “but I don’t have a racket.”

“You can use my old one,” I said, lying. We exchanged cell numbers and parted ways. I hadn’t gotten more than five feet from the classroom before I texted Brad, telling him I needed to borrow his racket.

* * *

“Jesus, it’s hot in here,” Madison said as we stepped into the court, and I couldn’t have agreed with her more.

She was wearing a little white tennis skirt that set off her tan spectacularly. On top, she had a loose-fitting, sleeveless white mesh shirt with a deep neck scoop that was cropped and showed her flat midriff. Under that was a dark-colored sports bra that strained to contain her breasts. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

I, on the other hand, wore my ratty old red gym shorts and a faded Chicago Cubs t-shirt. I handed her Brad’s squash racket and saw how ridiculous it must look in her eyes. More like a badminton racket than a tennis one.

“Can you go over the rules with me?” she asked.

I ran through them quickly, waving the long racket around to point out the various out of bounds lines. She kept her eyes on me as I spoke, her top teeth overbiting her lower lip in concentration. She was ridiculously beautiful, I thought as I wrapped it up. “We play to seven, but you don’t get a point unless you’re serving. Got that?”

“I think so,” she said, adding, “now what about a handicap?”

I tried to push back the brown locks that tended to cascade down my forehead annoyingly. “I’ll spot you two points,” I said.

“Oh, please!” she squealed with a little smile on her face. “We’ve got to make this interesting. Five points.”

“No way!” I shot back. “Any chump can get two points — and clearly you are not just any chump. I’ll give you three.”

We settled on four.

As we warmed up, I could see that Madison was coordinated and fit, but she didn’t understand how to swing a squash racket. A tennis swing generates power but sacrifices placement — the key to squash. Ideally, you want to hit the ball along the walls into the rear corners, or “bost” it, bouncing it off three walls, so that it dies into one of the front corners.

When I asked, “Are you ready?” she şişli escort bayan nodded, a shiny trace of moisture on her forehead and upper arms.

I stepped into the serving box and struck the ball toward the front wall. It bounced in a lazy, high arc toward the rear corner. As I moved to her side of the court, I watched Madison take an unfortunate path toward the ball, coming too close to the wall. Realizing that she wasn’t going to be able to hit the ball any other way, she jumped and tried to backhand it four feet over her head. She missed and collapsed in a beautiful heap.

My momentum carried me nearly to her, and, glancing at the pink underpants that peeked out from beneath the jumbled hem of her skirt, I offered her my hand.

She was laughing at herself as she placed her small, warm hand in mine. “So that was…”

“My point,” I said, pulling her up. As she came up onto her feet, the front of her breasts pushed into my ribs.

“Shit,” she said. “I thought so.”

“One-four,” I announced, before serving to her forehand side. This time, it wasn’t as high or as perfectly placed, and, as I drifted across the court, I watcher her take a big cut at the ball and strike it crisply along the wall.

I hurried to get myself into position to hit the ball, but Madison, instead of backing away, froze directly in my path, and I crashed into her back.

The momentum carried the two of us into the side wall, my torso pushing up against hers along a variety of fronts, from our entangled legs to my left hand — whichh came to rest on the ridges of her rib cage in the gap between her skirt and top — to my mouth, which was aligned with the top of her ear.

Even my penis twitched because of sudden contact with the upper slope of her ass.

I breathed out an, “Are you all right?” before pulling myself off of her.

“I’m fine,” she said, pushing off the wall. She looked at me sideways, with a curious expression on her face: Her lips were parted and her eyes a bit wide. “Is that a do-over?” she asked.

“No, that’s my point,” I said, bending down to pick up the ball. “You got in my way.”

“Is that what happened?” she asked, not seeming particularly put out.

I served, and she responded with a cross-court shot that I played deep into the corner. An experienced squash player would not have come close to me in getting to the ball, but when I turned around, she was running at me full tilt.

The impact sent me backward two steps. I threw my left arm around her to keep myself from falling. We finished up entangled again, with our faces separated by mere inches.

She smiled. “You got in my way. My serve!”

Before I let her go, I could feel every hair on my arm acutely as it caressed the bare skin of her midsection. “You wouldn’t have gotten to the ball,” I argued.

“No fair!” she yelled. “I see how it is: When I get in your way, it’s your point; when you get in mine, it’s still your point.”

“Oh, fine,” I relented. “We’ll call it a do-over.”

So we started replaying all points in which we blocked each other — which is to say, we started blocking each other on every point. Her favorite move was to put her ass in my path; mine was to pinion her against a wall.

And while I was very much enjoying our full-contact version of the game, the heat was becoming unbearable.

“It’s hot as Hades in here,” she said after I tied the score at 4. I was drenched in sweat, and her forehead was beading up.

“Let’s get some water,” I suggested. The hallway was empty. The gym would be closing in half an hour, and there wasn’t a lot of noise in the place. When we got to the fountain, the water was tepid.

As we returned to the court, I asked, “Do you mind if I take off my shirt?”

She shook her head, and I pulled it off over my head. She had grabbed the collar of her mesh top and was trying to fan herself with it, when I caught her looking at me surreptitiously. “I wish I could do that, too,” she said.

“Go ahead,” I said. “Who’s going to see?”

“The shirt isn’t the problem,” she said. “The material that they make these sports bras out of is heavy fucking duty.”

I couldn’t think of what to say, so I just looked at her. After a moment’s hesitation, she narrowed her eyes and gestured to me. “Turn around.”

I faced the front wall and threw my wet t-shirt to the foot of the tin. A moment later, she said, “Okay.”

I was delighted to see that she had taken off the sports bra while leaving the mesh shirt in place. The material of the shirt was clingy, revealing the outline of her nipples.

What’s more, with her breasts unleashed, the cropped shirt didn’t quite cover them, and I got a good view of their delicate undersides as she bent down to place her bra on top of my tee.

“That might be a bit distracting,” I said.

“Maybe that’s the point,” she said, smiling impishly.

On the next point, I was preparing to hit the ball along the side wall when I sensed her physical presence bağcılar escort bayan approaching from behind. She slipped her hand around my body and began stroking my chest and pulling at some of the hair she found there.

I hit the ball straight back and got my left arm in front of her to block her from getting to the ball. My bicep settled between her breasts, and I unintentionally pinned her nipple between my elbow and chest.

“Ow!” she squealed, bending over.

Painful though the pinch might have been, I could see that she was smiling. I could also see through the armhole of her shirt and take in the entirety of her right breast.

On the next serve, she drilled a cross-court shot that caused me to spin around in my tracks. I felt my waistline tighten, and I staggered, not understanding what was happening. I nearly fell on my face but managed to keep myself on one knee.

Madison had hooked her hand into the waistband of my shorts.

I laughed quietly and called her a bitch. She smiled back and let go. “No way you were getting to that,” she said.

I got up, but my shorts wouldn’t stay up. She had stretched out the elastic so far that they were useless. “Look at what you did,” I said, holding them up with one hand.

“What?” she asked.

I let go of the waistband, and my shorts dropped to the ground, exposing my blue boxer briefs, and, possibly, the incipient stiffy within.

She looked at me with lust in her eyes. “Much better,” she said.

“Fine,” I said, throwing my shorts into the growing pile of clothes near the front wall. On the way back to receive her serve, I walked close to her. As I went past, I looped my racket around, smacking her broadly on the ass.

“Aah!” she yelped, hopping a few inches in the air, her breasts nearly jiggling out of her shirt.

From that point on, we played full-bore, dirty squash: tickling, scratching, pinching, full-body slamming, and it became harder and harder for me to pretend to care about hitting the ball or what the score was. The contact — creating it, enjoying it, prolonging it — became the entire point.

I have a hard time keeping the sequence straight, but here are a few favorite moments, in more or less sequential order:

I served to her forehand side and ran over to where she waited for the ball to come down. I reached under her skirt and rubbed her panties. They slipped a bit to one side, and I slid a finger into her pussy. She hit the ball and dropped her racket. As I moved toward where the ball was headed, she reached into my briefs through the pee-hole and gripped my erect penis.

I froze in place with our faces inches away from each other.

“Is that …? Oh, sorry,” she breathed out huskily as her index finger stroked the shaft. “I thought it was the handle of my racket. But I guess I was wrong.”

During the next rally, I came up behind her, pulled down her panties and gave her a quick finger fuck. She hooked her arm around my neck and turned to kiss me as I did.

Her underpants wound up on the discard pile, too.

On the next point, she threw herself onto my back as I waited to hit the ball, hooking her arms over my shoulder and pressing her boobs into my bare skin. I hit the ball, but it clanked against the tin.

I backed into the side wall and pressed her into it. She exhaled hard as I did, and while I rubbed my sweaty back side-to-side and up-and-down over her shirt and boobs. After a few seconds, she put her feet down, and I took the opportunity to place the butt of my racket’s handle against her clit and pussy — which was dripping with a mix of sweat and juices — moving it in a circular motion that made her eyes close and her tongue peek out between her lips.

I turned my racket around and backed away, letting the side of the long handle slide up along her vagina. When the circular head, with the hard ridges produced by the protruding strings, began rubbing in the region of her clit, Madison let out a little gasp.

While she straightened her skirt, I took a few steps to the other side of the court. But as I brought the head of my racket up, I saw something on its face.

“Wait!” I shouted, and walked up to her.

Without warning, I rubbed the face of my racket slowly across her clinging top, causing her nipples to bend and pop into the squares between the strings.

I pulled it away and examined the strings, I smiled. “That’s better.”

During the next rally, she distracted me by shoving a hand down my underpants and sticking a delicious finger in my asshole.

On the next point, I retaliated by sneaking up behind her as she got ready to serve. “You can’t do that!” she called out.

“Says who?” I asked, dropping my racket and grabbing her breasts. She managed to serve as I was pushing into the back of her right knee with mine, making her lose her balance and sit on my boner. We toppled together to the floor and writhed around for a minute.

The next time I stepped into the box escort bayan zeytinburnu to serve, she took my cock in her mouth. It was such a great feeling that I kept putting off actually serve. But eventually I did, and it made the score 6-5. Or, at least, I claimed it did, which put us at game point. I felt that the culmination to our love match had to occur soon or I would suffer permanent damage to my cock and balls.

On my serve, I lofted a ball that she was able to return down the rail. Turned toward the wall, she backed her butt toward me but miscalculated where she had to place herself to prevent me from hitting the ball cleanly.

I was able to play a return that hit the front wall and landed on the heap our discarded clothes just before I crashed into her backside, slamming her into the side wall. This time, instead of disentangling myself, I growled, “That’s game, bitch!”

My penis had poked its way through the opening in my boxer briefs, so all I had to do was grab Madison by the waist with both hands and slam home, which I did. She yowled like a cat in heat and started grinding against me.

The palms of her hands were up against the wall above her head, and the side of her face pulled away and pressed into the wall with the rhythm of my thrusts.

I pumped and pumped without finesse or pacing, relying on feral savagery to carry us toward orgasm. I took my right hand off her hip and grabbed her by the ponytail. I pulled back on it, and she let loose a couple of “Ahh, ahh”s whose tone sounded like both a warning to be careful as well as mounting excitement. Her breasts had slipped out of the mesh top and were pendulating from her midriff to the wall and back, slapping lightly on the white surface, discoloring it slightly with her sweat like so many other marks on the wall that had been left previously by squash balls.

She started to climax — at least I think she did, the line between simmering and boiling isn’t always obvious to me — and, to be honest, it was a minor miracle that I hadn’t already cum. I kept plowing, and it drove her vocalizations higher and higher.

I needed a change, though, or I would start to fall out of the frenzy I was feeling. I pulled out of her and spun her to face me. At first she sounded disappointed, but as soon as she realized what I was up to, she hooked her arms around my neck and her legs around my hips.

I coiled my hands around her backside and held her up by the area between ass and upper thighs. I pushed her back into the wall and penetrated her again.

“Unhh,” she uttered, and leaned into my thrusts. As we settled into a good groove in the new position, Madison closed her eyes and let her wet lips fall open. Her body went almost completely limp, which I found odd, but strangely erotic. Her legs — bent at the knee as if she were sitting in an office chair — rose and fell with my passion; her hands were resting on my shoulders without an ounce of tension in them; her breasts bounced around, sometimes in unison with each other, but at times in opposite vectors.

Even the flesh of her face rose and fell with our hips.

I was enjoying the position and the way it allowed me to press into her and feel the wall through the sides of pussy — like I was splitting her to her core — but I could tell I wasn’t going to be able to keep her pinned like that for long. She couldn’t have weighed much more than 100 pounds, even sopping wet with sweat and vaginal juice as she was, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to maintain it for long.

The only real question was, which would come first: my climax or my collapse?

As I pistoned on, I felt her body begin to clench, imperceptibly at first. She flexed the toes on her feet and began to make a soft keening sound that only got louder and more urgent. She coiled her arms around my head and buried her face into the side of my neck.

In a few seconds, I varied to deeper-than-usual thrusts that made her orgasm again in great, ululating exclamations. I couldn’t possibly hold it any longer — in both senses — and I exploded into her, cumming in a long series of gushing spurts that seemed to last forever.

Almost simultaneously, I collapsed on the floor with her on top of me, but I stayed hard enough to keep her inside me. “Oh, my God; oh, my God; oh, my God,” I said, holding her hips in place on my boner.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” she answered, panting.

I continued to shove into her while nibbling on her nipples through the mesh top. The flesh of her breast was fluttering as she continued to climax.

I didn’t want to break the animal connection between us, but she had had enough.

“Please stop,” she said, pulling her breast out of my mouth. “It’s too much.”

She rolled off me and collapsed on the floor. As my penis fell out of her, there was a plop, as when a cork is pulled out of a wine bottle. After a moment, a pond’s-worth of cum leaked out of her and settled on the floor.

I was hopelessly out of breath and couldn’t do anything for a while except lay on the floor by her side.

Maybe a minute, maybe five later, I was still breathing heavily when she said, “I want a rematch.”

I laughed. I was going to say something about wanting to retire undefeated — yeah, right — when the lights winked off. The staff must be closing the gym for the night.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

It took about three months after my divorce until I started to feel something other than depressed. For three months, and for the year prior to the divorce, I’d felt like a failure; bitter, hopeless, and lonely. And after those three months of, well, grieving, I guess, I started to feel something else. Free.

It was time to do something crazy. Something I never could have brought myself to do while married to my high-school sweetheart. I wanted to be sexy; I wanted one-night stands and random sex in restaurant bathrooms. I wanted to enjoy what I assumed most people enjoyed in high school and college that I had never gotten to. I wanted to be a hot, sex-crazed slut.

The problem was, I didn’t know how. I had zero dating experience, and I was now in my mid-30s. I felt like dating would be painfully awkward. I didn’t have much time to date anyway. I had a demanding job and was also a part-time adjunct professor for the local community college. And honestly, I didn’t want a relationship. At all. I had been married for 15 years. I wanted to be single for the first time in my adult life. I wanted to decorate my house exactly the way I wanted. I wanted to go on vacations where I wanted to go, and do things I wanted to do. No more compromise or surrendering to the will of someone else.

I hesitantly looked at ads on craigslist and other avenues, but they terrified me. Too much of an imagination, I guess, and too many horror movies and books. I had heard of Tinder, but I hated the thought of someone “swiping left” on my picture, or anyone even finding out I was on there. What if a co-worker or a student of mine was on there? I didn’t dare ask any of my friends– they would have been shocked that I wanted random hookups and I would have been mortified. This little secret quest was all mine, and it looked like it would continue to be all mine as I slumped into grudging acceptance that I was out of luck. I’d just go on watching people having crazy sex online and using my good ol’ Rabbit.

Then one evening, as I finished up teaching my accounting class at the community college and was packing up my materials, I noticed a student had left their backpack on the floor next to their desk. I walked over to pick it up, intending to identify which of my students had left it so I could email them. I looked for a tag on the bag and saw nothing. So I unzipped the main pocket and found a couple textbooks, an iPad, and a red folder. I opened the red folder, assuming I’d see some assignment or something with a name on top, but what I found was way, way more interesting.

There were a couple assignment-looking papers in there, but what caught my eye was a red piece of paper that looked like a flyer, but thicker, textured paper. “Maison du Sexe” was on top in scrolling, golden, shiny font. The rest of it was elegant illustrations of what looked like pictorial aides from the Kamasutra. The only other information was an address and a very long, complicated URL.

Suddenly panicked that the student would burst into the classroom at any second and bust me looking at their dirty flyer, stuffed it back in the folder and zipped the bag up. My heart fluttered. What was this “Maison du Sexe?” Why was I so excited? It was probably a frat house party or a play or something. I went to the door, opened it, and looked up and down the empty hallway. Then I went back to the backpack and retrieved the flyer. Why would a party or a play need a URL? Then again, I wasn’t exactly “in the know” about what college students did for fun. There was something about it, though, that made me want to learn more. I didn’t know exactly what that something was, but I took a picture of the flyer with my phone, replaced it, found a name on an assignment in the other pocket of the folder, and finished gathering my things to leave. I dropped the bag at the front desk on the way out.

I usually have a ritual when I come home from teaching an evening class. Pour myself a glass of wine, pop some popcorn, and put on one of my shows. This evening, went right to the kitchen table, grabbed my laptop from my bag, found the picture on my phone, and typed in that crazy URL. Well, I typed it in three times, as I must have missed a letter or character the first two times. It was a really, really long URL.

The webpage was just a red screen with small writing on it saying, “Verify your age.” I complied, and after hoping that I remembered to update my anti-virus software, clicked “Enter.” Another simple red screen, this time with “Maison du Sexe” in the center and a menu on the left. I clicked About:

“Maison du Sexe provides you with a fantasy that is meticulously tailored to your tastes and preferences. Completely safe, discreet, and wonderfully exciting. Fill out an order form and include as much or as little detail as you wish. Schedule your appointment and prepare for an adventure you will not soon forget.”

My eyes widened. A sex order form? MUST. SEE. ORDER FORM. I clicked back and found the last menu escort bayan kağıthane option was the order form. For the next half hour, I read it over and over. There was the personal information section, which wanted to know your gender, age, sexual orientation, and the lot. I also saw that here you check a box saying you’ve included health information. Whatever; I’d look into that later. Then the rest of it got very interesting.

Type of encounter you’re interested in: Sex, watching.

Check the following categories for your experience: One-on-one hetero One-on-one same sex Threesome (MMM, MMF, FFM, FFF) Anal Vaginal Oral Masturbation Gangbang Mature Bondage

What feeling do want associated with the experience: Loving Rough Anonymous Degraded Worshipped Dominated Sweet and gentle Other

Your types: Skin tone: Hair color: Build: Age range: Facial hair: Tattoos: Other:

List any fetishes you’d like to incorporate.

List anything you absolutely will not do or what would make you unhappy.

Check the following props you’d like used: Vibrators Dildos Bonds Lingerie (This list went on and on…)

There were more categories and more spaces to type in specific requests. It was literally designing your perfect sexual experience. I had a million thoughts swimming in my head. Who would be providing these services? How does this business even operate? What kind of person does this? Is this safe? Is this too fabricated to be exciting? Could I get in trouble? Is this a real place, or some elaborate joke to find out strangers’ sexual appetites? And most importantly, how much does it cost?

I wanted to find out more. I certainly couldn’t ask my student. Could I just go there? Could I be that brave?

I clicked around some more and found the price list. It reminded me of the price list at my salon: eyebrows, facials, leg waxing, color, cut, style… except of course the items on this list were quite a bit different. And a hell of a lot more expensive. I deflated a little. Maybe the expense would make the decision for me.

After shutting my laptop, I tried to go into my regular routine. I popped the popcorn. I put on my show. But I wasn’t eating and I wasn’t paying any attention. I decided I needed a little relief and went upstairs.

I pulled my pink Rabbit out of my night stand drawer and a small bottle of lube. Then I laid down on the bed and began imagining the Maison du Sexe. What would I put on my order form? Maybe a muscle-bound 20-something meathead to just pound away at me. Maybe I’d just watch a couple fucking and doing all the things I watch online. I started touching myself. Maybe I’d watch for a while and then they’d beg me to join in and I would. Maybe I’d have a sexy little redhead woman lick me in between my legs. I’d never had an experience with a woman.

I put the lube on my vibrator and started rubbing it gently over my mound. I turned the vibrations to the lowest level and just stroked slowly while I pictured the sexy couple in my mind worshipping me with their mouths and hands. They squeezed my breasts and sucked on my neck. She pushed her fingers inside me while pushing her tongue in my mouth. Then she migrated down and pushed her tongue flat against my mound and moved it rhythmically in circles. The man turned my head toward him and pushed his long, hard cock through my lips. I pushed the head of the vibrator inside me and started slowly pushing it in and out, deeper every time. My fantasy turned to two men. I was on my knees and had one in my mouth and one inside my pussy from behind. The man in my mouth grabbed my hair. The man behind slapped my ass as he pumped his giant rod in and out of me. I turned the vibrator up and started working it faster. The fluttering clitoral stimulant giving me jolts of pleasure when connecting. I pumped it inside me faster and faster, and let out a groan as I felt my orgasm building inside of me.

Now my fantasy was a group of men. They bent me over a couch and took turns just using my pussy and treating me like a prop. Just hard and fast, every one. In and out. No relief. They shot their cum all over my back and ass and some in my waiting mouth. And my orgasm came hard. I held my vibrator still while I groaned and sighed through it.

I laid in bed for a little while thinking. See what did I need real life for? I didn’t need to spend that kind of money. I had my imagination. I had porn. I could pick up a random guy at a bar if I needed to…

But there was still a part of me that said life was short. Be exciting. Be wild. Get what you want for once. A random guy wouldn’t be a perfect experience. He’d be thinking of his own pleasure. It’s your turn to indulge yourself.

I went into the master bath and looked at myself in the mirror. Maybe they wouldn’t even accept me at Maison du Sexe. I was attractive, I guess. I was fairly fit, average breasts, medium-length brown hair, brown eyes. A little short. But I was escort bayan beyoğlu so… blah. Plain.

But maybe all their clients are ugly or old or weird or something. Why else would they pay for sex? But, I thought, maybe they’re just like me. They just want the anonymous act, so they can truly ask for what they want without judgment, without attachments, without emotions getting all tangled up. I shrugged at myself in the mirror. I didn’t know. And it was probably fake, anyway, and I was being a fool. I hadn’t made the decision yet, but I was thinking hard about the Maison du Sexe while I fell asleep that night.

******************************

The next day I went to my office job. I easily fell into my day routine. Get ready, stop for coffee on the way, make my way to my desk, unload my things, and start catching up on all the emails I received since 5:00 p.m. yesterday.

But every once in awhile, my mind betrayed me and I thought of that red flyer and of the red website. I tried to focus on my to-do list, but around 9:30 a.m., I had already decided to take a ride on my lunch hour and drive by the Maison du Sexe, and I was practically squirming in my seat.

“Hey, there, Lara!”

I jumped a little and blushed, as though Caleb-the-Intern could see the dirty little thoughts in my mind.

“Sorry,” he said, hands up. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t, Caleb. Too much coffee this morning. What can I do for you?”

“My supervisor is supposed to sign this for me, but he’s out all day. Can you sign it instead?”

He handed me a piece of paper, and I briefly scanned it, seeing that it was for his professor, proving that he was doing the time and earning course credit.

“Of course,” I said, and I searched for a pen on my cluttered desk.

“Oh, here,” he said, and handed me his. Our fingers touched briefly and I shivered a little. Caleb was tall– easily 6’4″– and had a lean, swimmer’s build. He had sandy blond hair that was always in his eyes and a year-long tan. He looked like he should be wearing board shorts and nothing else, but looked sexy as hell in a button-down shirt and tie. He had a polite, but easy-going nature that made him immediately likable. He wasn’t a dumb frat jock or a suck-up. Just a nice… well, kid. He must have been 21 or 22. That’s a kid.

I was almost embarrassed that the intern dressed more professionally that me. That day I had on dark-wash skinny jeans, knee-high riding boots, a black tunic sweater and a black and gray floral scarf. My hair was just pulled up in a messy bun. At least I’d managed to put on some mascara and lip gloss.

I signed the document and handed it and the pen back to Caleb.

“Thanks so much, Lara.”

“No problem.” And off he went, leaving behind a faint scent of aftershave. I sighed a little. Man, was I getting pathetic.

I shook myself and went back to work, noting the time. Two hours until my little drive. I wouldn’t even go in… I’d just drive by to see if it was a real place.

The next two hours went by pretty quickly, as I had a quick meeting with my boss and about twelve more tasks to put on my to-do list because of that. I made myself focus on the work, and didn’t even take a break and gab with people in the cafeteria. But as soon as 11:30 a.m. hit, I was throwing my coat on, grabbing my bag and heading out the door.

I opened the website on my iPhone when I was in my car and found the address. I put it in my GPS and off I went. I was sure I’d been in that area before. It was downtown– there were lots of old architecture and narrow, one-way streets. I found the right street and began looking for signs and numbers. I didn’t see any signs, and I silently scolded myself for being stupid. Of course an illegal business wouldn’t have neon signs out. So, I went around the block and looked exclusively for numbers. I was looking for 213. I saw 211 and then 215. I frowned. Despite the scarcity of parking spots available downtown, I saw one right in front of 217, so I quickly pulled in and got out.

Where the number 213 should have been was just an old, metal door that looked like it led to apartments above the businesses below. No number. No sign. No one around. I hesitated before trying the door. It was locked. I did, however, notice an old, rusty intercom. I was too nervous to press it, thinking that a random person, or perhaps a very strange, perverted person who made crazy, fake sex house websites lived there and would answer. I walked back to my car and got in. It was just a stupid fantasy anyway, wasn’t it? Why was I so disappointed? I stopped at Starbucks on the way back to the office and tried to forget about my stupid little excursion.

After an hour or so at my desk, I decided I needed a quick walk around the building. Some fresh air would do me some good, and I just couldn’t focus on the spreadsheet in front of me. I walked down the hall and pushed the door to the stairwell escort bayan esenler open, just in time to hear a soft gasp and some quick movements. I slowly began walking down to the landing and saw two people, whom had been out of my sight range, rapidly adjusting their clothes and trying hard to look cool and nonchalant. It was Caleb, the intern, and Melody, the marketing assistant.

“Oh, hey, Lara,” Caleb said casually, even though he seemed to be sweating.

“Hey, Caleb,” I said, equally casually, and I eyed Melody. She smiled sheepishly. She had to be 15 years older than Caleb. Her lipstick was smeared and her button-down shirt was askew. She jogged up the stairs while I kept going down one more flight of stairs to the ground floor. I noticed Caleb leaned against the wall and took out his phone. Probably to text his buddies that he got busted making out at the office, I thought.

When outside, I couldn’t help but picture myself in that stairwell with Caleb. I imagined my hands untucking his shirt and exploring underneath. I could almost feel his rock-hard abs and hip bones that made lines pointing to his cock. I’d feel his hardness under his charcoal gray dress pants and press up against him while he licked and sucked on my neck. He’d squeeze my ass with both hands and push me harder against him. Then he’d slip a hand into my pants and into my panties and I’d feel a finger slide against my–

I literally shook my head. I needed to get laid. I was ridiculous.

After my walk, I was determined to finish my to-do list. I stayed late in order to accomplish my self-directed goal, and when I got home, I opened that damn website again. I knew, logically, that it was probably fake; a ruse for gullible, lonely people, and probably a prank. But I opened up that order form and started making selections.

At first, I was pretty vanilla, even for me: heterosexual, man in his 30s, preferably blonde, one-on-one encounter. Then, after I had a couple glasses of wine and thought about it for a while, I decided that if I was going to spend an extravagant amount of money, it was likely this would be a one-time thing (if it was real). So I decided to change some things. And add some things.

After changing a number of things a number of times, I felt satisfied. I read the instructions and didn’t allow myself to pause before sending the order form. I should get an email back within 24 hours. I downed my third glass, popped up a new window to watch some casting couch porn, finished myself off upstairs, and went to bed.

******************************************

I woke up and checked my email immediately. It was there. I got a little thrill in my stomach and opened it.

Dear Lana (I had used a fake name),

Thank you for your order. Your appointment has been scheduled for tomorrow night (September 13) at 8:00 p.m. Please bring confirmation of health signed by your doctor and payment to 213 Cheshire Street. Use the intercom and the password “Aurora Borealis.”

This correspondence is strictly confidential and shall not be shared with anyone but the recipient and originator. If you have received this communication and are not the original recipient, please delete and disregard.

Thank you, Betsy

Betsy? I thought. Weird. Then I got excited. What if this were true? Would I do it? Would I risk getting raped and murdered, or kidnapped and sold into slavery? Or is this a real thing? How could I make sure? I couldn’t ask my student. That would be crazy inappropriate. I thought for a minute, and then I replied back.

Betsy,

I’m sorry to ask, but how do I know this is a real thing?

Lana

I hit send, I hoped for the best. I got ready for work. That night I had my night class, so I packed up my instructor stuff as well as my regular bag, and headed off.

Before I got halfway to work, I heard my email notification on my phone. I had an email. It was probably from some store that had asked for my email address or some spam about house insurance. But in my gut, I knew it was Betsy. I pulled over into a gas station parking lot and fished out my phone.

I was right. But my thrill turned into dread.

Dear Lana,

I apologize. I assumed you were a referral, as all new clients are referrals. If you do not know any of our current clients or hosts, I will not be able to confirm your appointment.

If you do have a referral, I apologize. Please let me know the name of your referral, and I will confirm your appointment.

Thank you, Betsy

No, no, no, no, no! I thought frantically. This email had convinced me, about 80 percent anyway, that this thing was legit, and it was taken away, just like that. I panicked. What was that student’s name? It was Conner. Conner Ashberry. I remembered, of course. He was a quiet student, but studious and always aced his accounting exams. He was shorter, but muscular, I thought, when I could see his biceps and chest under a tight t-shirt, and had mocha skin and dark brown hair he kept very short.

Could I use his name? Would he know? Would he know I found the flyer in his bag? I smacked the steering wheel with the palm of my hand and grunted frustratingly. I glanced at the clock on my dashboard. I was going to be late to my regular job. Think, Lara.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

(Previously submitted on a different forum)

————–

Lust in an elevator

————–

She burst into the skyscraper lobby and, after a hard swipe of her card at the security desk, she charged for the elevators. Hair tied in a bun, tailored suit and skirt, elegant yet severe glasses, the loud clicks of her heels echoed to her brisk and determined pace. This morning’s presentation was to be a killer, she radiated as a message. Get out of my way, was another.

This meeting was to be presented in only two weeks, but thanks to the snafu of higher executive rungs it had been rescheduled in haste for today. She seethed at the insecure corporate scrambling. Not only was she here on a Saturday morning, but she had to cancel at the last minute John’s TorD invitation; an all night festivity centered on a mature version of the ‘Truth or Dare’ game. It could be harmless fun with some naughty confessions, or it could blow your mind away with eroticism; it all depended on the chemistry between players of that particular night. Both extremes, and the myriad of possibilities between them, were satisfying in their own right. Her eyes winced behind her rimmed glasses. And the invitations only come once or twice a year.

She glanced at her watch. 9:15 AM. The party had ended not too long ago. She should have been home with tantalizing memories. Or at an early bird restaurant while she shared a cup of coffee with another guest, continuing their own private game, the simmer of an unspoken agreement between them. A hissed sigh passed her lips. But no… I had to cancel for this.

She stabbed at the elevator button. Twice. Three times. At the fourth stab she almost broke her nail and relented to wait. She grounded her teeth, at least one layer of enamel being stripped away, as her eyes continued what her finger couldn’t do. Not that it’ll get here faster, but it gives me something to vent on.

As imaginary knifings mellowed into wishes of bursting into flames, the ding of an arrival was heard. The button darkened, the only option it possessed to escape its impending doom. Finally!

The doors to the leftmost elevator opened and she almost growled. As if possessed, that cabin contained a broken alarm that no handyman could repair or hear. With her luck, she’d get stuck. As she patted her cell phone for reassurance, she charged into it and into the person within. What else can go wrong?

“Sorry,” she mumbled, while gruff embarrassment melted her anger, as she realized she’d collided in a too-handsome cowboy. Probably it’s that publicity agency on the seventh floor.

“No problem M’am,” was the casual reply. His response had not been warm; she had bumped into him after all. But it hadn’t been cold either, as if tolerant of her irritation for a Saturday morning spent at an office. She scurried to the opposite corner of the tiny room, as she realized that her assault hadn’t even budged him. Humiliation warred against annoyance as she kept her eyes to the numbered panel before her. I ran into a human wall.

She pressed her thirty-second floor, and then told herself to calm down, that he hadn’t earned her cold shoulder, and that she needed her sharp wits for this morning. She forced herself to relax, and then took a deep breath as the door closed. She lowered her eyelids at catching an unusual scent from him. Not a cowboy scent, nor an actor’s or model’s either.

Patchouli, she decided, that fragrance which resembled an illegal substance, with its sweet aroma. But a spicier, muskier version of it. Manlier.

Her nose enjoyed a second taste of the forbidden smoothness as it brought hazed memories of younger days, fogged-down but carefree moments where decorum and self-image hadn’t weighed down sensuality. Her lips crawled upwards in remembrance; to the hot little mink she had been, always aiming to please as she aimed to be pleasured. Sweet hearts, hunks, studs, romantics, all had their individual advantages and had been appreciated as such. Her mouth’s transformation completed, more than a mere hint of a smug smile was now revealed. Insatiable good old days.

The memories, added to his scent, bent her head with a discreet glance at him from over the rim of her glasses. The Stetson hat shadowed his eyes into an indefinable color. A hard jaw, charactered, was softened by full lips. A fair complexion, despite being sun kissed to a tan, suggested an ease for the rise of shy colors in those cheeks. The lens supported by her nose reflected back to her the sparkle of mischievousness found in her own eyes. He blushes, to the right words, said by the right woman.

The denim shirt was broad at the shoulders which were slightly thrown back, at ease yet ready to face a challenge. And they were made larger by his rigid posture, as indicated by the straight line of pearled buttons, with a mild void in the small of his back. That back had a real spine, but the backbone curved where it should, learned in the give and take of relationships in both business and hearts. escort bayan sultangazi Knows who he is, no more, no less.

His chest stood out, not too much however, the defined mass revealed by faint shadows within the fabric. The curves of his pecs were a call to trace with a single nail, their inner firmness to be pressed and squeezed by appreciative fingertips, the unyieldingness and contained power to be sensed by respectful palms. Yet soft enough to welcome the feminine head who relished the protective might beneath. And a slow, strong, heartsong echoing in the ear.

Her gaze lowered to the faint scars and calluses on his hands; a real cowboy then. Her eyes lifted again. Corded strength was within those sleeves, raising the fabric in an arc worthy of any art piece, and instilled the urge to frame with both hands a bicep #with a girlish plea for a flex. Those arms and that chest weren’t chiseled in a gym, nor in a fancy sport club; life had sculpted them. Her teeth grazed the sensitive skin of her lips. Earned Muscles.

Her eyes returned to the numbered panel. A discreet thigh upon thigh caress could not be resisted to the start of a warm humid reaction within her sex. A mental smile, a naughty tinted dirty while tainted with sin smile, brushed against her thoughts as she acknowledged to herself that she had kept the best for last. The boxer or brief question. She moistened the center of her lips with her tongue, swallowed while she fought the urge to glance at him again to draw out the moment, and then wetted her lips again but from corner to corner. It reminded her of the bow-tied panties she wore, one knot on each hip, a gift from her last lover a long time ago. It was a frilled and girlish private concession to the failed weekend. How sinfully fortunate a choice for today.

She lost her private battle and her glasses sent their aim southwards. His jeans did not disappoint her as they cradled a very respectful bulge. The defined lines of his denim covered shaft made her palms tingle, her breath quicken, and she choked down a swallow to the loud promises whispered by her tropical arousal. Her own diminutive shaft, hidden beneath its hood at the apex of her thighs, answered the call and rose to wakefulness. My, my, my, how fast the naughty girl flares up!!

She listened to the elevator music, eyes back to the panel, and tried to coax her system down to salacious excitement instead of scorched lust. The speakers teased her ears, a silent mock to her situation, with a muzak rendition of an Aerosmith classic. Much softened in its instrumental interpretation, and lyric free sanitized, it still planted the lascivious image in her mind. Love in an elevator, how suggestively appropriate.

This decided her to further indulge herself. She rehearsed the moves, envisioned the results, and grasped the explicit image. Her glasses slipped down a fraction along her nose to her secretive shiver. Her hand floated above her bust, fingers waving to the tempo of the song, conducting both music and galloping heart beneath. How can it hurt? Right? Right.

She moved in front of him with a curious frown, then stared at the emergency instructions with a mumble of it being a new one.

His hat was felt against her bundled hair, to his sights having tilted down to her behind. She pointed her right toes, bent her knee, and slanted her head to the side as if intrigued by the safety procedures before her eyes. Thus she had stuck her left ass cheek to him, stretching the skirt for his better view, and displayed herself as Temptation. The edge of his Stetson teased her bun once more, having tapped it and almost coaxed it to be undone as if asking to let her hair down.

Her hand slipped into her skirt’s pocket, followed by the subtle untying of the laced knot at her hip through her pocket’s fabric. She tasted her brazenness, inhaled her craziness, and enjoyed her exhilaration in small swallows with short breaths to fully appreciate its flavor and aroma. One last discreet tug and her private garment slipped from her thigh and off her mound. It hung from the last knot on the opposite hip, a cooler breeze against her fevered womanhood, and she wondered if the untied ends could be seen past the hem of her skirt. The small of her taut back, shivered, at the sinful image.

Her breath gained a little speed, her fingers shook as she went into the other pocket. Her fingertips were frantic; she couldn’t find the elusive strands of the last knot through the pocket’s fabric. She pictured the other released ends just dangling in front of him, a dirty sway of invitation, and her teeth almost chattered to her quivering chin.

Fearful victory as the knot became undone. She felt both strands part as they caressed her hip in their descent. To the deafening fall of her panties to the floor, worse than suggestive nudity beneath a dress, she became a living provocation. Breathless, ears pounding, her lip pained under her teeth. She couldn’t look between her shoes, escort bayan fatih at the silk invitation lying there. She waited for his reaction. She hoped his would not be the gentleman’s answer, that of picking it up for her. She would die of shame, to his refusal of meeting her on the same level, if he met her at all.

His breath caressed the nape of her neck and she was startled despite herself. She ordered her heart back into her chest, from where it had leaped out from, and told her lungs to please inflate before she passed out. She was closer to a faint than she cared to be.

Her hair became undone, now brushing against her skin, as her skirt began to rise. He was smooth, not having felt his fingers anywhere, yet his ghost of a presence heightened the moment. The fabric’s slow ascent on her thighs fanned the cinders within her, but cooled her mound, as imaginary breezes teased her engorged lips.

The insatiable mink of earlier years reasserted herself, wanton and needy, the combination of a protest to last night’s missed sexy opportunity and a hurray to this new unexpected one. A corner of her lips rose, a silent snarl of determination, and took charge of her own desire. It was hers, and hers alone, so she harnessed it. She breathed her own flames stronger, higher, brighter, until it almost consumed her.

Her hand was steady, but her nail shook as she reached over and pressed the stop button. The alarm forever broken, their tumultuous peace was now insured. No turning back from this moment on. The realization elevated her temperature to only a few degrees cooler than the sun’s surface.

She gasped as his fingertip appeared at the bottom of her sex, shivered a spine-quake of a shudder, and her glasses slipped from their perch then fell to the floor. A kind explorer he was, a gentle probe laced in respectful flirts. She knew he smiled to her already drenched passage, at her body’s eager readiness for him, and she flushed to the exhilaration of her sweetened shame to his discovery. She lived the thrill of the bad girl, the saintly femme fatale, as his fingertip was drawn, kissed, and embraced by her hungry lips.

Honed by the gentle but dexterous pleasure-giver deep within her honeyed inferno, waves of sensational fiery feelings radiated from the foundation of her femininity. Her passion incinerated propriety. She shot her heel in front of her, and then, as her trembling hand flew to her collar, she placed her bare foot against the wall beside her. A short breath steadied her fevered balance. With a slow, determined, provocative twist of her ankle she kicked off her other heel to join its twin. She placed an entire world of seduction into the sideways stretch of that leg away from her, as far as she could in ultimate temptation, and the result whetted her own needs.

He hadn’t answered this provocative show, his fingers frozen inside her. Her breath shortened, nearly hyperventilating now, yet a satisfied smile slipped on her face. She didn’t know his reaction, if stunned, appreciative of the spectacle, scared, or simple surprise; but she drank the power this gave her over him.

She leaned forwards and laid her trembling hands onto the emergency procedures, curved her back, stood solely on her toes and raised her hips in the warmest of welcomes. Her opened blouse hung on each side of her, hiding her chest with falling walls of fabric, yet accessible to him. She was the perfect offering, a man’s dream, but one she provided to satisfy her own keened hunger for further delicious sensations.

He disappeared from within her, then her skirt rose higher, over her waist, and she melted with weakened knees as her ravenous sex was exposed to his view. A slow zipping behind her, a so very slow zipping, tightened her throat as closed her eyes to better experience what this sound announced.

His hands landed where her hips met her waist, her mouth dried as this preparative gesture, and dizziness threatened on the horizon of her senses. She fought against a helpless squirm, unable to wait, nerves frantic at the sadistic pause, and her entire system excited beyond a fevered pitch. She felt faint to the unholy pressure.

Then he was there. Next to her. Him. It. Softness. Silky. Bulbous. Masculine. Manly. Male.

His rounded key of heaven brushed against her fiery gates of paradise. She stood still, the muscles in the small of her back taut in anticipation, her private muscles contracted to her eagerness.

She cooed in relief as he parted then passed her lips, all her vital organs melted then evaporated save her thudding heart, as he slipped within her. His penis was tender, patient, and gentle as he gallantly introduced himself into her pacified, now docile, and mollified vagina as she met him to better embrace him.

That first slow, firm, decisive stroke told her more of his bedroom personality than an entire day of sexy confessions. Just as her soft, mild, harnessed hip grind told him as much about her character in intimacy. escort bayan etiler He was the master of his pleasure, sharing it with her, as she was the mistress her own while contributing to his. His member might provide the sensations, but it was she who took her pleasure from it. So she opened her flow of sensuality, let the stream of her eroticism run freely, and welcomed her wants and needs. She and he would be active participants, acute listeners to their inner pulses, taking and giving the passion exchanged or lent between them. A meeting of the minds, of the desires and of the urges.

Within her sex her sensual bump of pure nerves was brushed against by his bulbous silky head, then felt the length of him, was caressed by it. Rubbed by him. Stopped. Rubbed, caressed, her secretive tiny mound of ecstasy felt his shaft then was followed by his smooth rounded tip. It was repeated all over again. Then another followed. Once more. A delicious unhurried rhythm began. Two slow exhalations to each’s voyage, his sliding exploration of her heated inner depth, her molded discovery of his rigid outer length.

She willed her sleek interior to cocoon him, comfort him, to make himself at home in her femininity. His erection became personified fulfillment, to soothe her, to indulge herself as she pleased with his offered masculinity. And she did. She escaped his incoming strokes as she pursued his retreating ones, all to prolong the sensation and heighten their enjoyment.

Faint, weak kneed, within her arched spine pleasure chased desire. Her palms were sweaty, slipping from the elevator wall. Her consciousness floated, spiraled upwards, and couldn’t lift her eyelashes which were heavy with languid torpor.

His grip shifted her pelvis higher. With her back arched, her hips at their highest, balance became delicate. She was suspended on his erection, on her hands pressed to the wall, on his hold on her waist. On her tippiest of tippytoes, she stood only on half of her toe pads. She hung her head with a quivering exhalation, then her breath caught, as his slide became perfect, her glide flawless.

She had gained that last measure of his length, his hardened arousal plunged at a sublime angle with a firmer massage of her hidden spot, her tightened wetness now more pronounced; all sensations were multiplied into a vivid image of his presence within her mind.

She surrendered to the precarious position, unable to resist its effect on her charged system. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, her calves vibrated to the strain, and her hard breath shortened into loud pants. Back and forth he stroked her sex, her passion, her flames, and her loss of control.

Her fingers crisped, her heightened perceptions pleaded for less as her sharpened senses begged for more, and clawed at the panel to the surreal intensity. Her tummy contracted, her limbs became vibrating stone to their tautness. Her pores tingled with unreleased orgasmic energy, her skin almost bursting at the seems. She was moments away, and she choked on a gasp by a voice strangled from the power of it.

He slowed.

Insanity. He coaxed her building climax to mind numbing levels, yet without releasing her, as he further decelerated. Maddened insanity. She whimpered as she squirmed, the wait unholy, the loss of her ability to speak –to plead- was devilish. Crazed maddened insanity.

His slowest plunge was torture. She felt his every vein, his every fold of his skin, every tiny detail of him. That edged rim so round, so soft, and so smooth as it caressed her walls. His precise shape burned itself into her brain. He was still master of his pleasure. She was now slaved to hers, unthinking, all restraints evaporated and control relinquished to her body. A body slowly sexed in all of its mind-shattering glory.

His silken head left her completely, leaving her empty, alone. She began a wordless cry of denial, but he pushed forwards again, and it brought out a feminine grunt which had risen from deep within her throat. His erection crawling within her, he hit that sensitive mound again, triggering her climax, and she fell into the abyss of her accumulated ecstasy as it engulfed her.

Sunlight poured into her veins, warmed her blood to her fingertips, flooded her mind with eroticized bliss; drowned in the beauty of the most primal form. She shivered, shuddered, then trembled, as he continued to caress her passage with his engorged length. Her ongoing, unbroken, mindless cry reverberated in the cabin.

Her mind gone, somewhere high above, living pleasure coursed in her soul. Inching within, he filled her offered space, snuggled his erection into her warm folds, and her cry became a scream as she exploded again. Still he edged forwards, further explored her.

Then he laid still.

She choked on a sob of relief, her molding of his presence so utterly complete, she knew nothing but him and her. She tasted the sweat on her bitten lips. Saw the blur of her four hands on the wall. Felt the sweet pain of her ribs to her struggled panting. Ears pounded to her racing heart. Elevated toes cramped. Back strained to her highest peaks of head and romp. He pulsated within her; she felt her beating tissue around him. Raw throated, his retreat would be heavenly excruciation, and leave her voiceless. If not mute in overdosed pleasure.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

For as long as I can remember, I have fantasized about a no strings attached hot as hell rendezvous with an older and sexually confident woman. Little did I know that pain in the ass east coast flooding would stall me in Houston and I would meet that girl.

Stuck at the airport and sipping my dry vodka martini, I found myself glancing around the bar. There were a couple of hot younger girls in short skirts and deeply low cut blouses that showed off very tempting and luscious breasts.

Been there and done plenty of that.

No, this time, I want a lady. An older and wiser woman who loves sex as much as I do. A woman who wants to spend a weekend in pleasure, ordering carry out food and never leaving the bedroom. Once again, erotic scenes flew into my mind and a new daydream drew my attention away from the hustling airport crowd around me.

“Excuse me” the bartender’s voice pulled me back to the present.

“Another?” he asked. I checked my watch. “Sure,” I said. “Thanks.”

Looking down the bar, I glanced back your way. Playing with the oversized olive in your icy martini, I could see that your mind was elsewhere. I caught your eye a couple times earlier but you looked right through me. I was surprised this time when a smile crossed your face as you nodded my way.

“Would you like another martini?” I asked as I approached. I suddenly felt clumsy and awkward as a teenager. I could not help but notice your green eyes contrasting with that hot red dress clinging to your body .

“Why thank you, how sweet of you.” You moved your briefcase off the stool next to you so I could join you. The chemistry was tying my tongue in knots and I was relieved when you started telling me the story of how you ended up in the Houston airport when your destination was NYC.

We laughed and shared a few air travel dramas. The martinis were working their magic and I could see that you were relaxing and taksim bayan escort enjoying my company. I reached to take a drink, my arm brushing your bare arm. Sizzling sparks caught my breath and made me bite my tongue for control.

Struggling to swallow, I looked into your beautiful green eyes and saw that you had felt the spark too. “You are awfully young,” you said with an adorable wink. I slowly reached out my foot and caressed the side of your foot with mine. “I hope you won’t hold that against me,” I laughed.

As we sipped our drinks, I kiddingly said, “Maybe I should change my flight and catch a connecting flight from LaGuardia instead of Dulles.” My hand reached for your back and I gently massaged your shoulder. I felt you lean away from me for just for a moment and then with disbelief, I felt you relax into my touch.

Irresistibly drawn, I took a chance and kissed your temple. My fingers acting as if they had a mind of their own, swept into the hair at the nape of your neck. I felt you shiver. I gulped hard. I wish there was a manual, I thought to myself.

“See if you can change your flight.” You whispered to me as you slid your hand ever so enticingly up my thigh. You turned toward me, closed your eyes and kissed me slow and soft. Lips tender and responsive. I felt a rush below that pretty much paralyzed me.

I reached for my Ipad and raced to find options. Your flight left at 10. I was a man with a mission. This time your hand was on my neck, skillfully squeezing the tightness and gently running your fingernails into my hairline. Fuck. I had to change that flight.

I didn’t even know your name.

Privilege has its perks and it didn’t take long to change my reservation and navigate myself into the first class seat right next to yours. You excused yourself and left me to order another round of martinis. I watched you walk away, that ass swinging topkapı bayan escort back and forth my crotch tightening in the same rhythm. God I wanted to touch you.

Nervous but determined, I slugged down the rest of my martini and signaled the bartender for another round. Your beautiful ass wrapped like a Christmas present in that dress was taking my breath away.

Breathe, I said to myself. Breathe.

I suddenly felt a surge of pressure and excitement all at the same time. I never felt like this before. With younger younger girls, the pressure is different. They are impossible to please and frustrating, but with her, something was different.

Madame X, damn I wish I had asked your name, you are in for the night of your life.

I came to sensing you sliding back on to the stool next to mine. “There is a booth over there,” you said slipping your hand into mine. We grabbed our drinks and claimed the booth.

“How quiet can you be?” I whispered as we slid close together.

“Try me,” you giggled in a low laugh that radiated warmth out from the center of my body in all directions. I could feel all control slipping from me. I didn’t care who saw or heard us. All I could think of was her breath against my neck.

Behind the tablecloth, I reached for your thigh. Fingertips barely skimming figure eights on your inner thigh, I worked my way in slow motion until I heard your breath speed up and felt your legs began to let go. I felt the resistance and I get it. I am a stranger for you and even though public sex is super hot, I know to trust my Lady’s timing.

You started to move your hips back and forth matching my motions. You reached out and grabbed my arm pressing your breast against my bicep and looked me right in the eye. Your eyes glazed with delight sparkled back at me and I bite my lip when I see the pure pleasure on your face. My escort bayan şirinevler payoff is your surrender to pleasure. I feel myself stiffen in response to your delight.

I reached my free hand across the table and you met mine with yours. I rested my hand on your thigh as we both leaned forward and our lips met and the hunger surged as I opened myself to your body pressing into mine.

With barely controlled passion I pulled away from you as we played the fuck-in-public-game. Slowing the pace again, with every bit of my will power, I allow my hand to crawl up your back and into your hair. Your hands responded by wandering down my thigh. I know you felt me tremble at your touch and I had to choke back a moan.

Glancing down I saw your full nipples firm and reaching for me through the fabric of your dress. I reached across you to grab a menu just so I could cup your beautiful breast in my hand hidden from sight. This time I couldn’t stifle the moan and neither could you. Your head leaned back and you closed your eyes now breathing hard and fast.

Orgasm hit you and you grabbed my hand. Holding it on your lower belly with fingers just curving under to hold you, my other arm around you you leaned into me. I rocked and held you as I watched you cum with quick pants and whispered moans.

“Someone will hear.” you gasp. “You are so good.” Now and then you bit your lower lip and held your breath for a second, then a quiet little laugh as you shivered through wave after wave. Your hand on my hand squeezing to let me know how when you were peaking.

“Hey baby?” you gasped after more than ten minutes whispered by.

“Yeah darlin…”

“Your turn on the flight…promise.”

I pulled you close and kissed the top of your head.

“Please don’t stop…” you whispered to me.

I laughed and held you tight. “Oh, don’t you worry, I am not going anywhere.”

As if on cue, the loudspeaker announced our flight was now boarding. A stream of giggling hit you as you straightened your hair and blouse. “How did you time that?”

“I have super powers.” I laughed back at you. “Let’s go catch that flight.”

Glancing down I saw finally saw your name on your ticket.

“Nice to know you, Angel.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Author’s Note: This story contains themes of infidelity (kinda), reluctance, lesbian sex, and voyeurism. Reader discretion is advised.

All characters are above the age of 18. Do forgive any spelling/grammar errors I might have missed.

Enjoy.

***

If I had to make a list of all the things I might expect to see in the JFK airport waiting area, an Instagram model doing a full-blown yoga routine wouldn’t even make it in to my top twenty, and, judging from the stares she was receiving, I wasn’t alone.

The Instagram model in question was my girlfriend, Kat, and she appeared to be too focused on her ‘downward-facing dog’ to notice the effect her prominently displayed ass was having on the rest of the airport, but even if she had noticed, I doubt she would have cared. After all, she had over two hundred thousand followers that did nothing but salivate over her appearance daily; having people lust after her body was normal, and she wasn’t shy about showing off all the hard work she put into it.

She was a blonde with shoulder length hair and a slim physique, but the yoga pants and skintight tank-top she was wearing did an excellent job of highlighting her every curve as she did her routine. I couldn’t really blame people for staring; her modest but respectable breasts, her donkey-kicked-to-perfection butt, and her well-toned ‘everything else’ provided a nice distraction from the boredom as they waited for the plane to start boarding. I was about to join them when Kat suddenly spoke to me.

“Babe, could you go get me a protein bar from that place we passed earlier?”, she said as she restarted her routine.

I winced. We’d been walking around a lot today, doing some last minute prep for the flight, and I hadn’t exactly chosen the best footwear. My feet were killing me, and I feared my toes would start a mutiny if I took any unnecessary steps, so I tried to weasel my way out of her request.

“Come on, don’t make me move,” I said in a fake whine that wasn’t really fake, “I just got comfortable. Besides, you’re already standing; why do you want me to do it?”

“Because I know your feet hurt and I want to torture you,” she said with an impish grin on her face.

“Bitch.”

She let out a laugh. “Come on, just do it. It’s, like, a thirteen hour flight to Dubai, right? The movement will be good for you.” She changed poses and added, “As a matter of fact, you should probably get over here and join me.”

Fattest chance in hell of that happening, I thought to myself, and although I appreciated her concern for my health, I still wanted nothing more than to sit on my ass while I stared at hers. However, Kat was a stubborn girl and she wasn’t likely to change her mind about the protein bar now that she’d brought it up. Fortunately for me though, I knew her weakness.

I pulled my suitcase in front of me, propped my elbow up on it with my hand sticking straight up in the air, and said the magic words: “Arm wrestle ya for it.”

I’d been dating Kat for nearly three years, ever since freshman year of college, and if there was one thing that I’d learned about her in all that time, it was that she’s competitive to a fault. She never runs from a challenge, and her pride prevents her from going back on her word if she loses. It’s something that I’d always respected about her, even if I sometimes used it to my advantage.

Kat eyed my arm dubiously from her ‘front bend’ pose. “Make it a thumb war and you’re on.”

Shit, I thought. I should have known better. Sure, Kat works out, but she focuses on toning and flexibility, not strength. She’s well aware of the difference in strength between us and wouldn’t fall for such an obvious trap.

“Fine, thumb war it is,” I said in resignation.

“And give me a handicap,” she said as she came over to me, “you have to pin me for five seconds for a win, and I have to pin you for three.”

“Fine, fine,” I said, not feeling so clever anymore.

We each took hold of one another’s hand in the thumb war position.

“Best two out of three,” she said, “loser gets the protein bar. Ready?”

“Ready,” I replied as I prepared to fight for the honor of my aching feet.

Together we recited the ritual like a couple of full grown children:

“One, two, three, four. I declare thumb war.”

“Five, six, seven, eight. Better keep your thumb straight.”

As soon as we finished the chant, Kat tried to get an easy win by quickly pulling my hand towards her to disorient me and then attempted to pin my thumb down.

“Cheater!” I hissed as I pulled our hands back to the starting position while skillfully dodging her attacking thumb.

“All’s fair in love and war!” she shot back with a big grin on her face. After a few more seconds of twisting and pulling from Kat, I managed to fake her out and pin her.

“One, two, three, four, five. That’s one win for me!” I said, glad to have won in spite of her dirty tricks.

“Shit,” she grumbled. “Come on, let’s go again.”

We escort etiler started the second round and Kat went right back to using her under-handed tactics to try and pull out a win. We were both cursing and taunting one another playfully when I heard the sound of laughter coming from somewhere behind me and turned my head reflexively to find the source. As soon as I did so, I found myself staring into the strikingly blue eyes of a black woman seated a few rows away from us. She was covering her mouth with her hand as she watched our match as if she were trying to stop herself from laughing again.

The surprising image of a black woman with blue eyes distracted me just long enough for Kat to pin my thumb down and get a three count.

“One! Two! Three! Yes! I beat you!” she cheered, causing the people seated nearby to give her funny looks while the black woman started laughing again.

“Yea, yea, whatever. Come on, final round,” I said, pushing distractions from my mind and, quite literally, focusing on the battle at hand.

We began the third round and, this time, I joined Kat in her dirty play, twisting and pulling her hand as I tried to get a hold of her dancing thumb. However, sinking to her level only resulted in her sinking even lower, blowing air in my face and trying to block my view of our hands with her body; She even tried to bite me at one point.

We were laughing like a couple of idiots the entire time and I heard a few other people in the waiting area laughing as well, including the black woman behind us. I’d almost forgotten the purpose of our little game when Kat, in the middle of another illegal maneuver, accidentally stepped on my toe causing me to wince a little at the sudden sharp pain.

Right, I thought, I need to put an end to this.

I put my free arm around Kat’s waist and pulled her into my lap, holding her firmly in place to stop her shenanigans.

“Cheater,” she hissed.

“All’s fair in love and war,” I shot back, echoing her earlier taunt.

She continued to squirm as I held her, and I was momentarily distracted by the pleasant sensation of her soft butt as it rubbed against my crotch. Not distracted enough, however, to miss her mistake when she overextended herself trying to pin me. I quickly capitalized and pinned her thumb down tightly, causing her to growl in frustration.

“One! Two! Three! Four! Five!” I counted triumphantly. “And that’s the game!”

I raised both hands in the air like a championship boxer celebrating his victory while Kat continued to sit hunched over in my lap, staring at me with a sullen look on her face.

“Yea, whatever,” she pouted. “Congratulations. Be right back.” Then she stood up, intentionally stepping on one of my feet as she did so.

“Ow! Sore loser!” I yelled after her as she left and rubbing my sore foot.

Kat only stuck her tongue out at me in response as she went to get her protein bar. I noticed several people staring at her ass as she left the waiting area but the black woman who’d been laughing at our behavior stood out to me. She gave Kat such a long, hard look that I wondered if she was doing more than just admiring her physique. She noticed me looking at her and inclined her head with a smile, then she busied herself with her phone and I turned back around.

I found myself growing curious about the woman though, so I turned sideways in my seat so that I could look at her without being too obvious about it. Peering at her out of the corner of my eye, I got a good look at the strange woman.

She was very dark skinned with a pixie haircut and exotic features; she was clearly mixed with something, but I couldn’t tell what. She was wearing a one piece pantsuit and—

Holy shit! I thought as I turned my head to get a better look at her, What the hell is she doing wearing that in public?

I hadn’t noticed it before with the quick glances I’d given her, but her pantsuit had a plunging neckline that left the sides of her breasts completely visible to anyone brazen enough to take a look. I was about to turn away to avoid being caught ogling the woman when I noticed, a little too late, that she had stopped looking at her phone and was staring directly at me.

Feeling pinned in place by her unblinking blue gaze, I just stared back, waiting to see how she was going to react to catching me perving on her. I didn’t expect what came next. Without breaking eye contact, the woman brought her free hand up to the collar of her pantsuit and hooked it with a finger. Then, she slowly began to drag her finger downward along the collar, gradually revealing more of her breast in the process.

I felt my heart begin to race at the absurdity of the situation. What the hell is this crazy bitch doing, I thought, my eyes shifting back and forth between her bewitching blue stare and the increasingly more visible swell of her breast. Her lips curled into a lascivious grin as her finger slid further and further istanbul bayan escort down her collar; her bare breast was just centimeters away from being exposed for all to see when Kat returned from her protein run and brought the woman’s exhibitionist display to an abrupt halt.

“Did you miss me?” she asked in a bubbly voice when she reached me.

“Uh, y-yea… sure,” I said distractedly as I shot a quick glance at the woman, but she had gone back to looking at her phone, and her cleavage had returned to being only moderately outrageous.

“Wow, I’m really feeling the love, man,” she said with thick sarcasm.

“Huh?” I said looking back at her, and then panicked when I realized she’d been watching me look at the woman, “Oh, no, Babe, I was just—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Calm down,” she said as if she were trying to talk a man off of a ledge. “Hell, I was looking at her, too. I mean, when was the last time you saw a black woman with blue eyes? Are those contacts or something?”

“I have no idea,” I said, grateful that I hadn’t pissed her off.

“Well, whatever. I’m gonna stretch some more before we start boarding,” she took her starting position on the yoga mat. “You sure you don’t want to join me?” she asked with a grin.

“Leave me and my feet in peace, woman,” I said, drawing a laugh from her as she began her routine once again.

A few minutes later, I looked over at the black woman again and found that she was staring directly at Kat, watching her do her yoga routine. She noticed me looking at her and our eyes met for a moment, then she went back to looking at Kat; her blue eyes drifting all over her body before she looked at me again and held my gaze as if she were trying to will her thoughts into my mind.

“Yes, I’m checking out your girlfriend,” her eyes seemed to say.

Just then, a stewardess, an Asian looking woman, came over to her and whispered something in her ear. The black woman nodded, rose from her seat, and boarded the plane with the stewardess following in tow.

About ten minutes later, the announcement was made that first class passengers were to begin boarding the plane. Kat and I quickly collected our belongings and began our long journey to Dubai.

******

It was an hour after take off and Kat and I were still amazed by the experience of being on a first class flight. And not just any first class flight, but a ‘Queen Air’ first class flight; the most luxurious airline in the world.

We were on the second floor of a double-deck aircraft lined on each side with booths with sliding doors that could be closed for added privacy. Each booth had a big screen T.V., a couch that doubled as a queen size bed, Wi-Fi, and five-star restaurant quality catering at the push of a button.

If there were any justice in the world, a pair of poor college students like us would have been listening to crying babies in coach where we belonged, but we got lucky when I entered a draw for a five night, all expenses paid trip for two to Dubai. The only thing left for us to do was sit back and enjoy the ride.

Kat was busy drooling over the menu while I channel surfed for the fun of it when we heard a knock at the door.

“Did you order something,” I asked Kat, but she just shook her head and shrugged.

There was a second, more insistent knock at the door, and we both looked at each other with puzzled looks on our faces.

“Come in,” Kat said, and the door slid open.

A stewardess stepped into our booth and I immediately recognized her as the woman who had spoken to the black woman in the waiting area before the flight. She was a petite but attractive woman with a round face and almond-shaped eyes. She bowed as she spoke to us.

“Good afternoon. Sorry for the intrusion, but I have a message for you from one of the other passengers,” the woman produced two small white envelopes that seemed to be filled to bursting and handed one to each of us. “Please, open them.”

Kat looked at me with a cocked eyebrow but I just shrugged in return and began to open the envelope. It couldn’t hurt to take a look insi—

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed as I revealed the contents.

Sitting in the envelope was a stack of crisp one hundred dollar bills. I began to thumb through them when the stewardess interrupted me, divining my intentions.

“Ten thousand dollars,” she said, then extended a hand toward Kat’s still unopened envelope and added, “Each.”

Kat, who had been staring at my envelope in shock, opened hers at the stewardess’ words and gasped as she found another stack of one hundred dollar bills.

“W-w-why?” I stammered at the woman. “W-what is this for? Is this part of the prize we won?”

“No, sir,” she replied patiently. “As I said, this is a message, an invitation actually, from one of the other passengers; ten thousand dollars each for a moment of your time. A generous offer don’t you think?”

Kat and I looked at each other again, escort ortaköy both of us struggling to keep up with this sudden development. When the silence dragged on too long, the stewardess spoke again.

“Should I take thais as a refusal?” she asked kindly.

“Uh, no, well…,” Kat fumbled and then looked to me for my input.

“Why not?” I shrugged. “It couldn’t hurt to at least hear what they have to say, right?” I flipped through the money in the envelope and added, “Plus, there might be more of this.”

Kat looked at her own envelope again as she thought about what I’d said. “Okay, fine,” she said finally, “we’ll go.”

“Very good,” said the stewardess, “please follow me. Oh, and please leave the money here. I have been instructed to personally ensure the safety of your belongings while you meet with Ms. Queen.”

Kat and I shot each other a dubious look, but did as we were told and followed the woman out of the booth and down the long corridor. Shortly after we started walking, Kat looked back at me and whispered over her shoulder.

“A woman named Ms. Queen, handing out envelopes filled with cash on an airline called Queen Air? That can’t be a coincidence. Looks like we’re about to meet a big shot.”

“Yea,” I replied absentmindedly, and I already have an idea just who that big shot might be, I added silently.

We finally came to the end of the long corridor and found ourselves in front of a large mechanical looking door with an intercom to the side of it. The stewardess pushed the button on the intercom and spoke.

“Ms. Queen, I have the passengers you requested”

“Very good, Alina,” came a very British accent in response. “Please show them in. Oh, and do make sure that we’re not disturbed.”

“Yes, Ms. Queen,” the stewardess released the button on the intercom and swiped a key-card in front of it. As the door slowly began to open, she turned to us and bowed, and then promptly made her way back down the long corridor.

“Are you feeling nervous?” Kat said, “Because I’m feeling nervous.”

“Chicken-shit,” I jeered playfully, although I was feeling much the same as she.

Kat punched me in the shoulder as the door finally opened completely and we made our way into the room.

The first thing I noticed as I entered the suite was the large king size bed up against the wall to my left, and the row of full length windows behind it showing the clouds as they passed by. The right side of the suite held the only other pieces of furniture; two loveseats sat facing each other with a low table between them, and on one of those loveseats sat the blue-eyed black woman from the waiting area.

She rose when our eyes met and came over to greet us. “Good afternoon, I’m happy that you decided to take me up on my offer,” she came to halt in front of us and extended her hand to me. “My name is Derica, Derica Queen. And you are?”

“Micheal Lann,” I said as she gave me gentle handshake, making sure to look her right in the eye so that I wouldn’t be tempted to look lower. But the small smirk on her face as she shook my hand gave me the impression that she knew exactly what I was doing.

“Katarina Spencer,” said Kat, shaking Derica’s hand as well.

“Lovely. Now that we’ve introduced ourselves, please have a seat, and we can get down to business,” she said as she gestured towards the loveseat opposite to her own.

After we’d all seated ourselves, Kat spoke up, her voice betraying nothing of her previous nervousness, “Excuse me, Ms. Queen. Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Please, love. No need to be so formal, Derica is just fine,” Derica replied smoothly.

“Okay then, Derica, you said that your last name was Queen. Does that mean you’re related to the CEO of Queen Industries? That Maxwell Queen guy?”

Kat only barely beat me to asking that very same question. Queen Industries was a multi-trillion dollar company; if we were talking to one of their representatives then that would explain why she was so casually throwing money around.

Derica smiled, “No, I’m not related to him; he’s just one of my employees. In fact, Queen isn’t even his real last name.”

“Wait, what?” Kat said, sounding incredulous. “You’re saying the CEO works for you? And what do you mean his last name isn’t Queen?”

Derica chuckled, “Come on, love. Put it all together.” she said patiently.

Kat just frowned, but I immediately knew what Derica was trying to say; “You’re the CEO,” I said, unable to hide the shock in my voice.

Derica smiled broadly, “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

But Kat protested, “Wait, if you’re the CEO then why aren’t you the one all over T.V. giving interviews and stuff?”

“Simple,” Derica said, “I like my privacy, and delegating the more public side of the company to Maxwell affords me that privacy; he gets the fame, I get the fortune. It’s a wonderful arrangement.”

I saw Derica’s eyes drift over Kat’s body for a moment, “Speaking of arrangements, I’m sure you’re both wondering why I wanted to speak with you.”

When Kat and I nodded in unison, Derica adjusted herself in her seat and turned to Kat. “Well Katarina, to put it bluntly, I find you very attractive and I would like to have sex with you,” then turning to me she added, “And I want you to watch, Micheal.”

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction concocted entirely within my imagination. Any resemblance to real people shouldn’t be surprising since most of my stories are based on people I know. While I hope you enjoy this story and are compelled to provide feedback, I don’t expect the subject matter will appeal to everyone who reads it. As such, I discourage venomous, nasty feedback full of violent wishes against essentially fictional characters in fictional situations. If this story does not appeal to you, there is undoubtedly one somewhere on Literotica that will, so your energy will be better spent on finding it rather than on vilifying me.

After years of talking about it, I’d finally managed to get Debbie and Mary to coordinate their schedules and book a visit with me so that we could undertake the “Colorado Beer Tour.” Because of other commitments, Debbie would be arriving later on Sunday while Mary was arriving early on Saturday. I’d grabbed some tickets for the Rockies for Sunday afternoon with the plan to head right from the game to the airport to pick up Debbie, but Saturday was for just hanging out at the house and taking it easy after Mary’s flight in from Boston.

I was on my way to the airport on Saturday as Mary called me with status updates once she’d landed and it sounded like we’d be hitting the passenger pick-up area at pretty close to the same time. As I pulled into the covered area, I spotted her pretty quickly and pulled over. I popped the trunk and jumped out of the car then gave her a big hug. We didn’t have the luxury of being able to stop there for very long with Denver being a very busy airport, so I let her go and threw her bag in the trunk as she settled into the passenger seat. As we rolled back out into daylight, she had turned to face me.

“I’m so psyched that this is finally happening,” she said, “and I can’t begin to thank you for letting us stay in your guest room and offering to drive to help cut our expenses.”

“I want you to save your money for the important stuff,” I replied, “like beer.”

“Still,” she continued, “I would be remiss if I didn’t take this opportunity to express my thanks the best way I know how without spending any money.”

Her hand dropped into my lap and my cock immediately began to grow as she started to massage it. She reached over with her other hand to open my shorts and I raised my ass so that she could work them and my underwear down enough for my cock to spring out. She took it in her hand and pumped it before leaning over and wrapping her lips around it, sliding them down. I moaned as she inhaled my cock and started to move her mouth up and down it while pumping the base. I was careful to maintain my speed along Peña Boulevard as I tried to fathom the fact that Mary was actually sucking my cock. Once I was able to relax and appreciate it more, I reached down with my right hand to cup her tit, gently tugging on her hard nipple.

She was sucking my cock slowly and skillfully so I quickly felt an orgasm beginning to build due to her oral talent. In a different situation, I’d have wanted to just lean back and watch her sucking my cock while enjoying the pleasure she was providing, but I didn’t want to drive off of the road. I was able to glance down occasionally to get a quick visual and that was incredibly arousing but her cocksucking ability would have been enough to get me all the way there pretty quickly. I was savoring every bit of pleasure while still remaining focused on the road as we approached I-70. I could feel myself tensing up as my orgasm approached and tried to relax so that I wasn’t stomping down on the accelerator, but it wasn’t easy with her mouth working on me. We were hitting the exit for I-225 when I let out a loud moan and started to spurt into her mouth.

As I rounded the curve on the flyover, she was swallowing my load and nursing out all of the cum I had to give her. She raised her head as I was easing us into traffic and looked around as she wiped her mouth. She hadn’t missed much by having her head in my lap, other than some fields and some hotels, but I reassured her there would be plenty to see during her visit even if there wasn’t right at that moment. Traffic was stop-and-go, so I was able to get my shorts and underwear back up while continuing to thank her and tell her how awesome her blowjob had been. I escort mecidiyeköy filled her in on the plan for the rest of the day and, though she was aware that I’d picked up tickets for the Rockies, I still gave her the details for the following day, leading up to another trip out to the airport to pick up Debbie.

“Will you tell her that the fare for a ride from the airport is a blowjob,” I joked, “or should I?”

“I dare you,” she said, but we both knew there was no way Debbie would blow me with Mary sitting right there. I also knew that I couldn’t be that fortunate to receive two unexpected blowjobs.

It was a beautiful Colorado Saturday so, when we got back to my house, my wife had margaritas already waiting. We got Mary set up in the guest room down in the basement, then sat outside enjoying our cocktails. The rest of the day was spent sipping margaritas, catching up and, eventually, cranking up the grill and making way too much food. The game on Sunday wasn’t until 1 pm, so we were up kind of late on Saturday night, but not too late. Once Mary had headed downstairs to get ready for bed, my wife and I had done the same but, before I brushed my teeth, I went to check on Mary to make sure she had everything she needed. I announced myself on the way down so I wouldn’t surprise her.

“So, do you have everything you need?” I asked, “Is there anything I can get you before I go to bed?”

“No,” she replied, “I think I’m in good shape.”

“I’ll say,” I commented as I gave her the once over in her nightshirt, “You sure you don’t need an orgasm to help you sleep?”

“Wouldn’t that be a bit risky?” she asked, looking intrigued.

“Sure,” I replied, “but she looked half-asleep when I came down here, so I’m not too worried about it. Plus, we’d hear her walking around above us if she got up.”

I dropped to my knees and raised her nightshirt up to reveal that she wasn’t wearing panties under it. Her brown bush was well groomed and looked inviting, so I kissed her hips and abdomen then had her sit on the edge of the bed. She spread her legs for me and I ran my tongue up her slit, tasting the juices that were already flowing. She gasped softly as I lapped at her pussy while running her fingers through my hair. Once I’d given it a good licking and slipped a couple of fingers into her, she flopped backwards on the bed and started to rock her hips toward my face. I was licking and sucking her clit while fingering her and, glancing up, I saw that she was massaging her tits. She pulled her nightshirt up to expose them, giving me my first look at them, then started to gently tug on her hard nipples.

The longer I ate her, the wetter and more engorged her pussy was becoming. Given the time and a more convenient location, I would have eaten her through as many orgasms as she could tolerate, but I thought it best to get her to one long, intense one both to return the favor and to indulge myself just a bit. I could hear the rate of her breathing picking up but she was doing a good job of suppressing any moaning as her hips rocked faster and faster. When she started to tense up, I could tell she was getting close but I didn’t try to draw her pleasure out any longer and just tried to get her the rest of the way there. I was pleased when I heard her gasp and she started to shake. I continued lapping at her clit as my fingers were flooded with additional juices.

Once she’d gone still and had let out a long sigh, I raised my head and slipped my fingers from her pussy into my mouth. I stood up and realized that I couldn’t go upstairs quite yet because my lounge pants were tented out in front of me. Looking down at Mary with her nightshirt up above her tits, exposing her entire body to me, wasn’t going to help it go down, but I couldn’t stop looking. When she realized my dilemma, she reached for my cock and massaged it before yanking the waistband of my lounge pants down enough to release it.

“Only a couple of things are going to get that to go down before you head upstairs,” she said, “and I think a cold shower is out of the question.”

She pulled her nightshirt completely off, which wasn’t going to help either, but then turned over so that she was standing, facing away from me, with her head down on the bed. I reached out to caress her ass before bayan escort istanbul grasping my cock and guiding it to her pussy. I slipped easily into her and took her by the hips once my hips were touching her ass. Again, I knew this was risky and, regardless of how much I wanted to savor the opportunity to fuck Mary, I had to make it quick. I started to fuck her pretty hard, pulling her ass back against my incoming hips as I pushed into her. Her pussy was so hot and slippery that I wasn’t expecting it to take very long before I was spent and softening. I was able to focus on how good it felt as opposed to, say, thinking about baseball, which was absolutely awesome. Despite the earlier blowjob, it wasn’t taking much time at all for her hot, wet pussy to have my orgasm quickly building.

I could tell that she was reaching back between her legs to stimulate her clit and, as she started pushing back against my incoming thrusts, I thought we might be able to cum simultaneously. I debated reaching forward to caress her nipples to see if that would help her along, but figured I’d just stick with the long, hard strokes. I heard her gasp again and felt her body trembling so we missed our chance at simultaneous orgasms, but it turned out to be something that she didn’t want, anyway. As she finished cumming and I was right on the verge, she stopped me just before it was too late.

“Don’t cum inside me,” she said, softly, “I don’t want to have to explain any stains on your sheets.”

I pulled out of her almost immediately and she realized how close I was before I pumped a load all over her ass, turning around to take me in her mouth again. She had barely slid her mouth up and down once when I started spurting into it, feeling the intense pleasure washing over me. She swallowed my load for the second time since she’d arrived in Colorado then let my softening cock fall from her mouth.

“Hopefully that will keep you out of trouble,” she said, “and keep me from getting thrown out of your house.”

She stood up and pulled her nightshirt back on while I tucked my spent member back into my lounge pants. I kissed her and copped a quick feel of her tits before turning to head back upstairs.

“Sleep well,” I said as I headed for the stairs, “See you for coffee in the morning.”

Sunday was another beautiful day from the get-go. We sat outside drinking coffee and reading the Sunday Post then had a late breakfast to fuel up for the game. Mary and I headed off to catch the game and had a chance to talk about the night before.

“I feel kind of guilty doing that right below where you wife was probably sleeping,” she said, “but, at the same point, I don’t think I could have come out here and not fucked you.”

“Once Debbie is here,” I replied, “we probably won’t have another opportunity, anyway. So, hopefully it’s done and out of our system.”

I knew this was the right thing to say but it wasn’t how I felt. I also felt bad about cheating on my wife, but I had wanted to see Mary naked, feel her up and fuck her for a long time and I didn’t regret finally taking advantage of the opportunity to do it. I figured it was a one-time thing and, though I’d relish it, I didn’t expect to make a habit of it.

Our seats were great, the weather was superb and the Rockies managed a win so, even though the game ended earlier than we expected, we were quite pleased with our afternoon. Since we had time before we needed to head to the airport to pick up Debbie, when we headed back to where we’d parked, I suggested we go on up to my office so I could show off the view from the 25th floor. We walked around the office checking out the view from all sides of the floor and it didn’t escape me that there was no one working. Mary appreciated the scenery but I could tell that wasn’t all her mind was on when we got back to my desk and she threw her arms around me. I kissed her back but I wasn’t going to feel comfortable out in the open like that, so led her to a nearby conference room. It was a small one that could only comfortably fit about four people, but the glass beside the door was frosted and I knew the table could be moved in front of the door, not that I expected anyone to come try the door.

“Good thinking,” she said as I closed the door behind us and moved the table. We were quickly back escort beşiktaş in each other’s arms, making out again. My hands went down to her ass, squeezing it as I pulled her against the growing bulge in my shorts. We still didn’t have the luxury of time or privacy, so we were both starting to undress each other pretty quickly. I had her capris open and was working them over her ass while she opened my shorts and let them drop to my ankles. I pushed her panties down with her capris and she was massaging my tented briefs as she stepped out of them. She quickly had my briefs down and my cock in her hand while I made sure there was a chair behind me before sitting down. I watched her trim, brown bush as she straddled me and guided my throbbing tool toward it.

We both moaned softly as she sat on my cock, engulfing it in her hot, wet pussy. My hands were on her waist, but as she started to ride me, I slipped them up under her blouse and fondled her tits through her bra. Her nipples were hard and poking at the thin material so, after toying with them briefly, I reached behind her and unfastened her bra. With my hands on her bare tits for the first time, I savored the feeling of the soft, smooth flesh as well as her hard nipples while she continued to ride my throbbing cock. We started making out again as I fondled her tits and relished the feel of her hot, wet pussy sliding up and down my cock. She started out with her hands on my shoulders, but quickly had one down on between us so that she could caress her clit. My hands were moving from her tits down to squeeze her ass and back up again as I felt her pussy getting hotter and wetter the longer she rode me. I ended up lifting her shirt up over her head and, as I tossed it aside, she shed her bra. I admired her bouncing tits as she rode me before we went back to making out again.

I didn’t want us to finish quickly but I knew, even though the office had been empty, that we were taking a risk and that we had to head off to the airport soon. I could feel my orgasm beginning to build just because her pussy felt so fucking fantastic and I only suspected that she was close to cumming herself because of how hard she was riding me. It didn’t surprise me when she let out a gasp and started to shake while still fucking me hard. I wasn’t quite there yet myself, even by the time she’d finished and her pussy had been flooded with additional lubrication, so I picked her up and lay her back on the table. I hooked her legs over my arms and started fucking her hard again, with long, full strokes, while looking down at her brown bush and bouncing tits. I didn’t think my cock could get any harder but, as I looked over her naked body and felt her hot wetness of her pussy wrapped around my cock, I could feel it swelling even more.

My long, full strokes were getting faster and harder as I felt my orgasm building up and I had to pause briefly when the table started to make the door rattle. After a quick adjustment, I was back to fucking her hard again, my orgasm continuing to build due to the incredible pleasure her pussy was providing. I was thinking about pulling out and cumming on her stomach when she directed me otherwise.

“Cum inside me,” she moaned softly, “I want to feel you cum inside me.”

Since I’d had a vasectomy many years before, I wasn’t worried about cumming inside her and only would have pulled out so that she wasn’t dripping for the rest of the afternoon. With the go-ahead, though, I was going to savor having my cock inside her for as long as I possibly could. The pleasure was so intense, though, that it was only a few more minutes before I was spewing into her. She let out a gasp though I didn’t think that she was actually cumming again. I continued to fuck her even after I was no longer spurting until I was just too flaccid.

When I pulled out, before I sat down, I grabbed the box of Kleenex from the nearby cabinet and used a couple to wipe myself down before handing the box to Mary. She hopped down off of the table and cleaned herself up a bit before we gathered up our clothes and pulled ourselves back together. We made out a little bit more then straightened up the furniture and, after checking that the coast was clear, slipped out, each of us making a stop at the rest rooms.

We left for the airport and had enough time to talk about the past twenty-four hours, which we agreed had been an incredible experience to share between us, but that it wasn’t likely to happen again, especially on that visit, and that we should just keep it between us. Once we had Debbie with us, though, we were too busy having fun and drinking outstanding beer to lament the lack of another opportunity to pleasure each other.

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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Vadim Startsev’s room was just like mine, one of the unpretentious yet luxurious offerings in the hotel’s South Tower. As soon as he opened the door with his card key, I felt a cozy wave of heat envelop me. “Welcome home, Remy,” he quipped with a gentle smile. “Make yourself comfortable.” I did, sitting down quickly on an unoccupied—and thus still-made—double bed.

“Thank you for inviting me up here,” I said.

He stood hesitantly in front of me and paused. “I’m…trying to figure out what to do with you.”

This made me guffaw so hard that I let out an unceremonious snort! “Uh, I can think of a few suggestions,” I finally said when my brain finally regained control of my laughing reflex. Ugh! I thought. You must think I’m a total idiot. Chess players aren’t supposed to act like THIS at all! Before I could mope any more, however, I caught an odd scent in the air: “What’s that smell?”

Vadim gave a slight start. “I’d hoped—I hadn’t wanted—bah!” Trailing off, he turned toward his own bed and began to fumble inside of a gargantuan black duffel bag on top of it. “I sweat a lot at these tournaments, unfortunately,” he admitted at last. “I’m soaked straight through.”

“You mean your armpits?” I asked and sniffed the air again. “Oh. I won’t look if you take your shirt off and put on more deodorant. I might want to do the same before the next round.”

“No. Not there.” I saw what he now had in his hands: a new pair of black nylon boxer shorts!

“Uh…” Stupid, stupid me! Why couldn’t I stop saying that? “In that case I definitely won’t look.”

“Even if you want to?”

I flopped back on the bed, letting myself stare up at the ceiling. “Blah. Touche.”

Vadim stepped toward me. “Remy?” he said teasingly. “For your forfeit, the task you must perform is to watch me in the bathroom as I wash up. I like it when women admire my body.”

“Any women?”

“Of course, but especially cute beginner-to-intermediate players who try the Scheveningen on me.” He offered me his hand. I took it, and he pulled me back up to a sitting position. “Come.”

I did. The bathroom was like all other hotel-room bathrooms: sterile, white and unappealing. However, the vast selection of plush towels and washcloths did hold several possibilities…

“Hang on a minute,” Vadim said. “I need to get some more supplies—namely, the body wash.”

The area between my legs began to swell and ache just a little, in an exquisite way. While no one was looking, I gave it a rub through my pants. Hopefully, Vadim wouldn’t notice just how much escort bağcılar I yearned for him—and how wet I’d inevitably get while he was getting all wet and soapy. That was my distinct advantage: no guy can ever really tell if a girl is horny or not!

Guys acquire an embarrassing bulge in their pants if they think nasty thoughts and aren’t careful. We women can imagine all the deliciously dirty things we want and won’t have any errant parts of our bodies betray us! Of course, we have to keep eyes and feelings in check…

Vadim returned, wearing only his tight and sweaty boxer shorts. “Remy? Are you all right?”

Only now did I realize I was staring open-mouthed. “Yeah. Yeah. It’s just—you’re hot!”

The look in his cunning dark eyes said Thank you, but also I know, darling. (Men…ha!) He crooked his right index finger, beckoning me to follow him as he carried a rather large bottle of body wash into the bathroom and laid it on the white porcelain sink. I did and sat down on the toilet. I wasn’t going to the bathroom—didn’t need to. I gently perched myself on top of the lid.

The scent of him was now almost overpowering me. Not that I was complaining, aside from the fact that it was a combination of copious amounts of sweat and male musk. What he needed was a thorough lathering with plenty of soapsuds, not just a quick “freshening up”! I suspect Vadim himself knew it, as I was trying hard not to wrinkle my nose (and failing.)

“I’m so sorry!” I said miserably. “It’s just—”

“Yes?” He turned on the sink faucet so hot water started gushing into it full-blast.

“You need to be scrubbed until you look like you have a Speedo® on, made out of soapsuds!”

Vadim said nothing, taking two clean washcloths from the rack nearest the sink on the wall. I could tell he was looking askance at me, even though he was trying to pretend he wasn’t. I was trying not to stare into his eyes, those black pools that were two vortices of fatal bliss…

Luckily, I had something else at which to stare once he had removed his boxer shorts! “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked me. “I don’t want to make you at all uncomfortable.”

I smiled. “Trust me, I’ve seen men’s—bishops—before. Just not one as beautiful as yours.” There! It was out. No shame, no guilt, no screaming voices of my parents in my head. I’d just told a man that his manhood was a work of art, and what on Earth was the matter with that?

Vadim chuckled. “I see.” The sink was full, and so he slowly dipped istanbul eskort one of the washcloths into its steaming depths. “I am also sorry,” he said.

My heart leapt into my throat. “Why?” Was he going to tell me to get out?

“You’ve told me exactly what I need,” he announced, “and I fully agree. However, Remy, the words ‘be scrubbed’ have betrayed you. Thus, for your loser’s forfeit…you shall do so.”

My cheeks flushed desert-hot. So did another part of my body. “Is that an order, monsieur?”

“Oui.” He took the wet washcloth out of the sink and gave it to me, pressing it into my hand with a gentle but commanding squeeze. Since it was dripping so much and getting me wet as well as him, I decided to begin. I pressed the washcloth to the area right below Vadim’s navel.

“Mmm. That’s it. Spread it out. Good.”

I unfurled the dripping white terry rag, and instantly felt Vadim stretch beneath me. Wow, I thought. A man gets an instant hard-on from my touching him, or at least a semi. That has NEVER happened to me before, and with my rotten luck, it never will! I’ll make this count…

The washcloth was so saturated with hot water that Vadim began to drip. I quickly took the hand towel that he offered me so that the tiny rivulets wouldn’t trickle too far down his legs. Slowly, I kneaded his firm, warm skin, desperate to have sweat and oil washed away. Vadim was, I found, unlike any man I’d ever felt before. Their—bishops, if you will—were hesitant, quivering, and unsure of themselves. Not Vadim’s. He stood stalwart and still with desire.

Between low and ragged breaths, he asked me, “So…why’d you try it?”

“Try what?”

“The Scheveningen. Players at your level usually don’t know it—no offense.” He moaned…

“I wanted to play my best defense. Something that would impress you, or at least try to.” It was amazing how honest I was becoming as I wet him down. What is it about hot water and slippery skin that were even more effective than a polygraph when it comes to getting the truth out of me? “I was trying not to play something too simple. That stuff’s boring, anyway.”

He gazed at me strangely. “Remy?”

“Yeah?” Vadim wouldn’t take his eyes off me.

“The next time you’re on Black, play 1. …e5.”

I scoffed playfully. “Phfft! Yawn! That’s exactly what I’m talking about when I say ‘too simple’. I mean, any time any of my opponents say something like that, what they really mean is ‘you’re mentally deficient, and can’t play’. That’s what they sounded escort güngören like, and so that’s probably what they meant.” I sighed. “Mmm. I’d rather concentrate on your other chess piece right now.”

My present opponent suddenly shivered with pleasure. “Please do…” He panted heavily.

I caressed him with long, slow strokes, enjoying the way fragments of terry cloth seemed to slide into all of the creases on his skin and cleanse deeply. When the rag got dry, I handed it back to Vadim and he re-soaked it. From the base of his shaft right on up to the head, I made him glisten with drops of crystal, trickling down to what waited beneath. Then…”Uh-oh—!”

“What?”

“You’re…intact.” Indeed he was, and that was a quandary. “I don’t know how to wash you.”

“Ne pas peur.” He winked at me, and the space between my legs twitched in anticipation! I clenched up my muscles down there, like I was going to start peeing, except I wasn’t. I held myself tightly that way as Vadim dipped his hands into the water and retracted his foreskin. Exposed, he seemed even more beautiful. Vulnerable. Powerful. Human. It was so odd:

Here was Vadim Startsev, chess rating 1885, being tended by me—rating as yet unknown. Was it apropos? Most likely. I thought so. However, why wasn’t a better girl doing this? A far prettier one, and one who was more skilled at chess? Did Vadim know he could have any girl he wanted, and he was choosing me? Why? This was absolutely not happening. He was out of my league, and I suspect that both of us knew it. However, I pinched myself. Still awake!

“Remy!” Vadim nudged himself forward with a wet thrust. “Don’t stall, and lose a tempo…”

I knew precisely what he meant. However, before I could continue bathing him, he clutched the rag, plunged it into the water again, and then grabbed the bottle of body wash. Suddenly overcome with a wicked idea, I closed my eyes and pretended I didn’t know what Vadim was doing. In three seconds, I would get off of the toilet, bolt out of the room, and return to mine! Sitting up tall, I whispered, “Un.” Vadim didn’t seem like he was paying any attention at all. He was far too busy lathering the washcloth with an intense near-ferocity to notice little old me…

“Deux.” That was me again, still saying these French numbers in a near-hush. I started to stand up, holding onto the accessibility grab bars for balance. One more, and I was free!

All of a sudden, Vadim grabbed my right hand and pressed it into his, and then held both the soapy cloth and my hand against him. “Trois!” he said. “You’re staying there until I’m clean.”

“No, I’m not!” I laughed and shook my head, trying to pull my hand away and tease him more.

He hushed me with his passion and full-bore, piercing eyes. “Mauvaise perdante! Play fair.”

All I could say at this moment, despite myself, was “Yes, sir…”

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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Lois and I became lovers about a year ago. We were both married to others and as a foursome we got together socially from time to time. Lois was a playful and effective flirt: quick to give a compliment, linger a little too long over a hug or to say something just a little bit “out there”. She called me “her surrogate”, a title I very much enjoyed and was always dying to make good on. I found her sparkling green eyes, ready smile and still-attractive body to be an irresistible combination.

Whenever we connected, like a phone call when neither of our spouses was around, we teased each other like teenagers. Her overt sexuality and playfulness captivated me and I responded in kind with excitement. Over one conversation she confessed that she “wasn’t doing too well in the bedroom department”, a remark that got my attention in a big way. I suggested that her surrogate was ready to step up if she needed me to. “We’ll have to see about that”, was her reply.

Two days after the phone call, he was at my door. Both of us were having a rare evening with neither spouses or kids on board. She was carrying a gift, a bag of fruit from her family’s farm, but what caught my attention was her appearance. A new hair design and colour framed that lovely face, and instead of her usual medical scrub attire (she works in a dental office), she was clad in heels, a pair of very flattering jeans and a fleece pullover. To me, she looked stunning.

As we exchanged our usual warm hug, I felt her warmth and wondered if she was pressing into me even closer than usual. When we released and I looked deeply into those eyes, I decided to throw caution to the winds. I took her face in my hands and kissed her. She responded with what could only be described as ardour equalling my own, opening her escort şişli mouth to me and sliding her tongue over and around mine. With a soft moan from deep in her throat, we fell into each other’s arms.

A hurried conversation ensued. When would my wife be home? When would her husband notice her gone? We found, to our delight, that we had a couple of hours to be together. With a sly grin, she confessed that she had driven by on a whim, seen my wife’s minivan missing, and stopped by on the chance of finding me alone. “How about that surrogate treatment you promised?”, she breathed into my ear.

I led her into the living room, seated her on the couch and again took her into my arms. Her hands were all over me, and mine explored her body, lingering over the soft fullness of her breasts and the swell of her hips. Pulling her sweater over her head, I was treated to the sight of her naked breasts, nipples erect and chest flushed with excitement. I eagerly took her breasts into my hands and kissed them, savouring the softness and the warm, feminine smell of her perfume.

Her hands struggled at my pants, removing my belt and unzipping me. Her hand took my swelling hardness into her hands and stroked me; it was pure bliss. Urging me to stand, she slid my trousers to my ankles, fully exposing me to her caresses. Her soft, warm mouth enveloped me, taking most of me inside while her hand cupped my testicles. A few strokes of that treatment and I was close to exploding. I gently pulled her away.

Pressing her back onto the couch, I remover her jeans and a pair of damp silk panties. Her odour filled my nostrils and I parted her thighs, kneeling between then to savour her taste. My tongue flicked across her swollen lips escort bayan istanbul then slid inside, tasting her juices and sliding the length of her moistness. Her soft moans told me I was hitting all of the right spots. In a minute or so, she shuddered with pleasure, her thighs twitching and her breathing short and shallow. I gently slid a finger into her, and continued to please her with my mouth until she came again.

I love to give oral sex to a woman, and Lois’ cries indicated that she enjoyed the taking as well. Every now and then, I would brush my tongue across the pink pucker of her ass also, each time rewarded by a sharp intake of breath and a whimper of delight. When this opening was wet as well, my now well-lubricated finger slid into her there, eliciting yet another shudder of orgasm.

“Now”, she commanded, and rolled face down onto the couch, exposing to me her beautiful backside, and her glistening nether regions. Without a moment’s hesitation, I pressed softly into her, surprised by the heat and tightness of that embrace. Slowly I penetrated the full depth of her, withdrawing all but the head before relentlessly pushing in again. Waves of pressure transmitted themselves form the squeezing of her walls directly to my brain. All thoughts of gentleness disappeared, and I began to quicken the pace, our bodies slapping together as our animal natures took over. Spreading the globes of her butt, I again sent a finger rubbing around her anus before slipping it inside. I was gratified by her biggest orgasm so far, leaving her shaking and weak.

How I managed to hold back, I cannot say, but when she regained her speech I still had not released. I once again was slowly pumping into her, massaging her back and buttocks as escort taksim I did so. She looked at me over her shoulder, beautifully shining with sweat and sated lust. “Would you like to finish up in my ass?”, she boldly asked, “I want you to have everything you need from me.”

Would I ever. I had never before known the pleasure of a woman’s ass, though it had always been my most cherished fantasy. I rolled her again onto her back. She pulled her legs well up, exposing to me the portal of my desire. As Lois smiled and looked directly into my eyes, I positioned my rigidity at the cherished opening and pressed the head against her. She held her smile as I slid into the warmest and tightest place I have ever been. She gripped me in a way that sent lightning bolts flashing in my brain.

The pace was excruciatingly slow at first. Not wanting to hurt her, I took my time and savoured every inch of her. When I reached my full length, her hands took my hips and held me fully inside her. “I’m ready”, she said, and I began to gently stroke into her. This beautiful woman was fulfilling my darkest fantasy and obviously enjoying doing so. Her eyes danced with fire as she urged me on.

My release, when it came, was shattering. I went rigid all over as the whole of my being focussed on the sight, smell and feel of the heat and tightness around me. My hardness pulsed and pressed even further into her, leaving my cum deeply inside of her. I collapsed onto her, completely satisfied and spent. The rest of the evening was a blur, but somehow we managed the presence of mind to clean up, dress and return to our respective spouses without arousing suspicion.

Since that night Lois and I have continued our torrid affair. We cannot meet often, for our schedules are too busy to permit that. But we manage when we can, and when we dare together we find that same passion every time. No fantasy is unfulfilled and no desire is left unsated. Although we cannot be together always, both of us are grateful beyond measure for the joy we find in each other.

This story is for you, Lois. I love you.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

I love waitresses. I grew up in the northeast, where diners are everywhere, and learned at an early age to appreciate the edgy, smart ass attitude of diner waitresses. That, and the shirtdress uniforms, either button up, or zip up. The waitresses who knew where their tips came from would usually show some cleavage, and, if they had passably decent legs, would raise the hem on their dresses. It was the best in working girl sexy, and there’s nothing hotter than a shapely, forty-something diner waitress in a short uniform dress. I often dreamed of taking some of them home for dessert-and I did a time or two.

Thirty years later, and now living in flyover country, things are a little different as far as uniforms-most of the time it’s jeans and t-shirts with an apron tied around their waists. Which brings me to my local hash joint, and Fran. She is a smart ass of the first order, like me, from up north. Our banter started almost immediately, from the first time I saw her, and it’s only gotten more intense in the couple of years she’s been working there. We trade barbs, quips, smart comments, and occasionally have a serious conversation when it’s not too busy. She’s five feet and 100 pounds of blonde aggravation, and looks really good in the jeans and t-shirt she usually wears. I would not change a thing about her.

One day, I was sitting toward the front of the dining area, when she walked past. She bopped me on the head as she went by.

“Next time you do that, I’m going to smack your ass,” I said as she made her return trip to the kitchen.

“Like to see you try,” she shot back.

“You know I will.” Fran gave me a glare as she walked away, then bopped me on top of my head again on her way back to the kitchen. I watched the crowd, fortunately not much of one as it was the mid morning lull between breakfast and lunch, waiting for a chance. The table across from me left. The next time Fran went past, I slapped her ass quickly.

Fran turned. “Watch it, mister. I know where you live.”

“Yeah?? Then why haven’t you come over??”

Fran turned to me. “You wouldn’t know what to do with me if I did.”

“Why don’t you try it and see. Or are you afraid you’ll be wrong??”

“I’m never wrong!!”

“Yeah, your husband said that. Many times.”

“Good. Finally, after 40 years, he’s learning.”

I finished up, and after a few choice escort çapa words to Fran, headed home where I had some things to do around the house. About 2:30, I heard a car pull up. I didn’t have enough time to get out to the driveway to check who it was, but it didn’t matter. As soon as I got to the door from the kitchen to the garage, there was Fran coming up the step. She came in and looked at me. We didn’t speak for a moment.

“See. I told you you wouldn’t know what to do with me.”

I did too. I reached around her, grabbing her ass and picking her up. It wasn’t much of a lift, since she’s so small. I kissed her hard. To my surprise, she met me full on, and we spent the next minute trying to swallow each other’s tongues. When our kiss broke, I reached down and pulled up one side of her t-shirt, then the other, pulling it over her head. I reached around her back, unhooking her bra, freeing her B cup tits. She reached down and pulled up my t-shirt, pulling it over my head. I pulled her to me, kissing her hard again, her tits now pressing into my hairy chest. As we kissed, I started for the bedroom.

Once in the bedroom, I threw her on the bed, undoing her jeans and pulling them off. I was met with a pair of skinny legs that rose to a blonde patch at the top. “Well, well. Someone came ready to play.”

“I hate panties,” said Fran. “I love the way jeans feel on my skin.”

I pulled my shorts off, releasing my cock. “I hope you like the way those jeans feel when my come is dripping into them.” I climbed up on the bed between Fran’s spread legs, her pussy slightly open already. I put the head of my cock at her opening, and pushed in firmly. Not ramming into her, but it definitely wasn’t gentle.

“Oh, Shit!!” cried Fran as my dick spread her, plumbing her depths. I pulled out and rammed home on the second thrust. “Fuck!!” she cried out. I felt her pussy get wet and her hips shake. I started to pump in and out, pounding her steadily. “Aaaaaaahhhhhh! Shit!! Oh God!! Uuunngggghhhh!!” She kissed me hard as she came around my cock, which was banging her cervix with every stroke. I slowed a little to let her orgasm wash over her, then pulled out. Fran looked like someone had taken her favorite toy away. “Nooo!!” she whimpered.

I wasn’t done. I turned her over so she was on all fours and pulled her to me. I istanbul eskort was now standing on the floor, my cock pointed right at her swollen pink twat. I rammed into her, again making her cry out. Now my balls were slapping her clit, and it reintensified her arousal. “Aaaaahhhhhooooowwwwww..Fuck!!” she yelled as my balls pounded her clit, making her hips shake again. I slapped her ass, making a loud smack as I hit her. “God damn, you’re going to ruin me!! Fuck!!” she yelled. I slapped her again, bringing the same reaction. I continued to slap her ass, out of rhythm to my pounding dick going in and out of her. In between slaps, I reached forward and grabbed her shaking titties, mauling them as I fucked her. After a couple minutes, I felt Fran’s hips shake, her pussy juice like a waterfall, then her whole body convulse. I pulled her to me, mashing my cock deep in her blonde cunt and pounding her cervix.

“Oooooowwwwwwwwaaaaahhhhhhhh!!” Fran cried out as a massive orgasm washed over her. I started to come, my cock pulsing as I shot into her. I slapped her ass again while I came. I expected some smart comment now that I was filling her with sperm, and I could see her start to say something, but nothing came out of her mouth. I held her ass tight to me while the last of my come spewed into her, then slacked off. I stayed in her a few minutes, then let go and she fell to the bed, rolling over onto her back, her legs open. A moment later a large gob of my come spilled out of her spread labia, down her ass, and onto the sheet. I lay down next to her and kissed her.

“You were saying about not knowing what to do with you??” I said. Fran kissed me back, then quickly jumped up and straddled me, sliding up and putting her dripping twat in my face.

“You know what to do with this??” said Fran, pushing her pussy down to my mouth. “Time for a dessert you won’t see on the menu. Go ahead, lick the cream pie out of my cunt!!” She looked down at me, expecting me to be repulsed by the idea of eating my own sperm. The look on her face was priceless when I stuck my tongue out, licking up her inner lips, then between them, then over her clit, swirling my tongue around it til her hips shuddered and she came again. I pushed her off me, rolling her onto her back. I pulled her face to mine, kissing her hard.

“I get cream pie. You get fish cakes,” I said, escort fatih making sure she tasted her own juices on her tongue.

We pulled away from each other. Fran looked at me, her pale blue eyes sparkling. “You SOB!!” she said, laughing.

“Don’t you hate it when someone proves you wrong??” I teased.

“Yeah, well, so you were right once. It won’t happen again.”

“Til tomorrow. You’ll be back. Nobody else tips you as good as I do.” Fran slapped my ass as we lay together. “You ought to get cleaned up. Your husband will wonder what happened to you.”

“No he won’t. It wouldn’t be the first time I brought him home sloppy seconds.”

“Slut,” I said.

“You wish,” said Fran, heading for the bathroom.

“I know!! After what we just did, you’re my slut now.” Fran stuck her tongue out at me. “You know what they say about tongues…” I called after her.

Fran didn’t hear me. I got off the bed and went into the bathroom, surprising her when I opened the shower door. “You know what they say about tongues,” I repeated. By now, there was a large drop of sperm hanging off the head of my cock.

“I suppose you want me to lick that up for you??”

I looked down, realizing what Fran saw. “Well, yes, actually,” I said, pushing her down onto the seat in the shower. She looked up at me a moment, then took the head of my cock in her mouth, licking it slowly to get all the seeping come, and clean up the rest. She had a wonderful touch, and I was soon hard again. She cradled my balls as she sucked. It took a few minutes, but I wasn’t going to stop her, and I soon felt that familiar rush as my climax started to surge. I didn’t warn her, though from her technique I had a feeling I didn’t have to, and came hard in her mouth. Fran was indeed a pro, swallowing me down without missing a beat.

Fran stood up, pulling my face to hers in a deep kiss. “There ya go. Cream pie and egg whites,” she said as she pulled away. “Now leave me alone so I can get cleaned up. You left a bigger mess for me here than you do in the restaurant.”

I laughed. “I’m not going anywhere. You think I’m missing a chance to rub warm, soapy water all over you??”

Fran looked up at me with a sideways glance. “OK, but if you distract me again, I’ll smack your ass.”

“OK, fine, just remember, paybacks are a bitch.” We settled into the shower, cleaning each other off, and I was soon walking Fran out to her car. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll just look for the waitress who is walking a little funny.”

“They all walk funny. I’ve never seen a bigger bunch of sluts.”

“And you’re their queen,” I taunted back. Fran blew me a sarcastic kiss and she was off.

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