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I’ve had more than my share of one-nighters, and willingly confess to finding them the most exciting sexual activity of all. I’m not diminishing tender lovemaking, intimacy, monogamy…all have their place and time and advocates.
But, for sheer no-strings-attached, won’t-ever-see-you-again-and-that’s-the-way-we-both-want-it sex, give me a nearly anonymous hot romp any day. Or night.
So, if you like such a saga, by all means, read on and enjoy. This was the fastest pick-up I’ve ever been a part of: no fuss, no muss, no pretense. Just hot, hard sex between consenting, horny, adventurous, and creative strangers willing to share their most private parts and bodily fluids solely to give and receive gratuitous pleasure. Instant coffee, so to speak, mixed with sexual cream and sugar. Life should be so easy all of the time, c’est pas?
I sat alone in blissful solitude at the bar at the Legal Seafood restaurant in North Shore Mall in Peabody, Massachusetts on a Tuesday night during a business trip, reading my USA Today sports page, and awaiting my appetizer choice of Black and White Lobster Ravioli. For those of you unfamiliar with the nuances of New England, Legal Seafood is perhaps the most popular and trendy seafood chain in the region. Yes, it is the real name, I solemnly swear.
I was to learn many new things on this night, as fate would have it, but I’d already discovered two. One, that there is such a thing as Black and White Lobster Ravioli (and it’s quite the aphrodisiac, apparently), and two, that Peabody, at least the town in Massachusetts, is properly pronounced PEA-Bih-DEE, or some reasonable facsimile thereof, since I’m phonetically incapable of emulating the local New England dialect. Who knew, especially the double-accented syllables, huh?
It was getting somewhat late for a weeknight, approaching nine p.m., when my steaming plate was proffered by the bartender, a cute, bubble-assed little coed, I surmised. The restaurant was emptying rapidly, and I had every intent of finishing my tasty appetizer, my Sam Adams, and retiring to my room at the nearby Marriott for a night of blissful, solo slumber.
That’s when I heard the inquiry, from a few barstools down, no one in between to block sound or view. How did I miss this? “That looks yummy, what is that?” The drawl was distinctly not that of a New England native, or anyone who was born within a thousand miles. I had guessed Houston even before looking up.
She certainly looked Texan, in that impeccably attired and overly-made-up face that seems to be a staple of Texas girls. Besides, everything about her was big: her height (tall, maybe six-feet-one in heels); her hair (blonde and wavy, spilling out of a tight bun); her smile (big pearly whites augmented by bright red ‘hummer’ lipstick), her mouth (wide with world-class blowjob lips, notice a theme here?); her eyes (baby blue, like the Texas sky); her tits (one word: huge); and unfortunately, as I was to find out soon enough, her ass.
Hey, six-outta-seven ain’t bad. After all, Miss America wasn’t coming to the Legal Seafood bar on a winter Tuesday night in PEA-Bih-DEE, Massachusetts, was she?
Just to make sure (hey, ya never know), I looked around before responding, tapping the seat next to me. “Why don’t you sidle on down here and find out, pretty lady?”
My eyes introduced themselves to her tits as she first leaned over to gather her purse and then walked slowly towards me, happily accepting my invitation as her chest bounced beneath her flowery full-length dress, cut low in the cleavage and very high on one knee.
As she sat down, the slit rode high up her leg, showing me a flash of naked thigh, and she didn’t seem to mind in the least as I took a few extra seconds to admire the view. I barely noticed her impeccably manicured hand extended in greeting, thin, long fingers ending in bright red nails, to match the paint on her lips.
“Julie, I’m from New Braunfels, Texas, nice to meet ya. Here on business like me?” New Braunfels is west of San Antonio, I knew. Close enough to Houston to pass as a good guess.
She smelled like a fresh patch of Texas lillies, assuming Texas is famous for their lillies, that is, and if they are, I’ll bet you anything that they’re some big fucking lillies. What I’m trying to say is, she smelled nice. A nice and big smell. Big and nice.
Which matched her tits, which resembled a reverse rearview mirror-like effect: Objects appeared bigger as they got closer. Three buttons were undone on her dress, and when she had leaned over during her introduction, I got a Texas-sized hard-on. I gripped her hand lightly, feeling her heat. Her breath smelled as if she had consumed a Sam Adams or four already, not that there’s anything wrong with that.
“John, from Wilmington, Delaware, Julie. Pleasure is all mine. But, can we come to an agreement?”
She batted her eyelids in a gesture that I interpreted to mean ‘sure, go ahead’. So I did.
“Can Escort Esenyurt we not share any further info about bullshit such as jobs, careers, education, favorite sports teams, kids, spouses, ex-or-otherwise?” I had already noticed the Texas-sized rock on her left ring finger. She looked at me shocked, apparently misreading my Northeast directness for disinterest. I read her face and hurried to clarify. I held her hand in comfort and again felt the warmth radiating from her skin, her body temperature like a lizard’s in the mid-day Texas sun.
“No, no, don’t get me wrong, Julie, to the contrary.” I lifted a forkful of the delicious appetizer that had attracted her to begin with, supposedly. I moved my free hand from grasping her own to resting it on her bare thigh, and felt her shudder, almost imperceptibly, at my touch. She smiled, relaxing, and took a long gulp of her own lager.
“You see,” I said slowly, gazing into her baby blues. “It’s always been a fantasy of mine to feed a beautiful, blonde, Texas stranger”. She blushed as I dangled the fork close to her lips, and they began to tremble a bit as she reached for the treat like a puppy with those red, puckered lips. I teasingly withdrew the fork, and her lips pulled into a pout, the Texas female’s language equivalent of “What the Fuck?”
“And I don’t see the Lone Ranger anywhere in sight, so you’ll just have to do!” I took a small piece of the lobster pasta and placed it on my finger tip as she giggled, looked into my eyes, and sucked the slippery delicacy into her mouth, spending a few long, lingering licks on my fingertip before she sucked it, too, between her lips, and pulled on my digit hard with her tongue, the intent obvious.
Taking my cue, I pressed into her and kissed her long, slow, and gently, our tongues immediately dancing, savoring the taste of the lobster and our mouths, and her hand lowered to caress my own upper thigh now. This woman could kiss, the chemistry was instantaneous, and I decided to strike while the proverbial iron was hot.
Our tongues reluctantly released from each other’s, and out of the corner of my eye I noticed the young bartender shaking her head as she watched two strangers old enough to be her parents pick each other up. I ignored her and reached up to tangle my fingers in the necklace dangling between Julie’s cleavage. “Besides, Julie, your tits are much nicer than the Lone Ranger’s. Or Tonto’s, for that matter.”
Julie seemed to enjoy both the compliment and my caress. She leaned in again to playfully bite on my earlobe. “I agree to your terms, John, no bullshit conversation. But, in that theme, is that all you want to do. Just FEED a beautiful stranger?”
I placed a larger helping on two fingers this time, and I thought the bartender might dry-heave as Julie all but sucked my fingers to Woonsocket. I heard the Texas melody resonating in my ears. “Turn out the lights, the party’s over…………..”
I reached into my pocket, extracted a twenty, and plopped it on the bar, which was about a ten percent tip and my way of telling the youngster, “Get over it, you’ll be our age someday before you know it, and we like to fuck, too, OK?”
I rose from the stool and answered Julie’s question. “Why, no, Julie, the feeding is just foreplay. What I really want to do is for you to come to my room 818 at the Marriott in ten minutes, take off your panties in your car, and knock on my door with your panties dangling in your fingers, enter, and let me kneel, lift up your dress, and eat your Texas pussy while you’re pushed against my door until your head explodes.
Julie’s freckled nose wrinkled in contemplation. “Mmmm, that’s a much better fantasy, more on the lines of a natural progression from simply feeding a stranger, I agree.” I liked her sense of humor already. Funny women who like to fuck are a rarity, especially in New England. (No offense, Red Sox fans!) “But, we have a slight problem or two.”
Uh, oh, there’s always a problem, I knew it was too good to be true.
She glanced over her shoulder as she moved the slit of her dress up to her hip and wriggled in the seat, permitting me a view of a blonde, neatly-trimmed bush above an already glistening pussy. My own face failed to hide its delighted surprise as I gazed at the prize.. She stuck a finger in her mouth, Betty Boop-style.
“Oopsie, too late on the panties, is that a violation?”
“I think we can overcome that, Julie, it shows good preparation. Any other speed bumps?”
She tentatively twirled the rock on her finger. “Um, I’m married, is that a concern?”
That makes it infinitely hotter, I thought. Married women on travel are always the best fucks, willing to do most anything, sometimes twice. “Only if he has my room key.”
She nodded sternly, playing along with the game. “This one may be a deal-breaker, though.” Her hand started to caress my bulging dick, twitching wildly now in my trousers, and she took good measure Escort Avcılar of its length and thickness, her eyes registering her very favorable impression. “Do you mind a woman who just LOVES to suck a big cock and talk dirty while being fucked hard?”
BING-fucking-O! “You ask a lot of silly questions, Julie. Remember the premise of our agreement? Ten minutes? Room 818?”
I resisted the urge to wag my tongue at the bartender as I departed in a “Nyah, nyah, I’m getting laid tonight!!!!!” demonstration. Who knows, I might want to come back someday. That ravioli was pretty fucking tasty.
Twelve minutes later, there was indeed a knock on the door of room 818 at the PEA-bih-DEE Marriott. I swallowed the entire content of the little container of hotel mouthwash (yuk, that was a mistake!) while walking to open the door. Julie stood there in all of her semi-drunken Texas horniness, her bra pulled down over the neckline of her dress, diddling an exposed pink (BIG) nipple with one hand. “Is this where I come to get eaten?”
Even before we were inside the front door Julie started tearing at my clothes. I pushed her away, up against the hallway wall and dropped to my knees, as promised. My head made its way under the hem of her dress and her sweet scent of arousal immediately flared my nostrils as my eager tongue made its ascent up her inner thighs. The fact that I could not see anything other than the golden patch between her legs made for a uniquely erotic tactile sensation, especially when she pulled my head roughly into her crotch, with her hands on top of the material of her dress.
I couldn’t see it coming, and it surprised me, but completely aroused me also, and I tugged at my own zipper to free my needy cock, so that I could wank on it with my free hand as the other snaked into her squishy slit.
Squishy was an understated adjective. There is a world-famous water park in New Braunfels called the Schlitterbahn. It is said to generate up to ten million gallons of water daily during peak season. The Schlitterbahn had nothing on the volume of fluid emanating from Julie’s pussy, it was an instant water ride, a wave pool of fun love nectars. Even before my tongue reached her slit, her moans were probably heard in Comal County, Texas, and I felt as if I would need one of those light blue slickers that they issue to riders who venture onto the Maid Of The Mist, the boat that transports tourists as close as possible to Niagara Falls, supposedly protecting the passengers from the spraying gusts of foam that saturates the boaters.
Yep, she was that wet. And I hadn’t really started yet.
Julie lifted a leg over my shoulder as she tried to wriggle out of her dress, but her animated gyrations only served to dig a hole in my scapula, which is not necessarily an erogenous zone, but maybe that’s just me. Even her feet were big, and her stilettos felt like nunchucks raking my skin. From my sheltered vantage point, my tongue licking her slit like a hungry kitten and two fingers exploring her sopping canal, I saw her pink bra fall next to her heel, and then the dress cascaded over my head like a giant tarpaulin covering a baseball field during a rain delay, which was a plausible enough scenario if this vaginally-induced downpour continued.
Her cunt took on a barometric pressure reading of cyclone proportions as I admired her gurgling cunt from close-range, spewing warm bursts of cum down onto my face, coating my neck, chest and fingers as well, her puffy pink labia virtually spewing like a geyser.
There is humidity, there is relative humidity, and then there is Julie’s pussy.
Fortunately, she tasted absolutely sensational, sweet, with a pepperminty twang, and the more she came, the more I orally teased her and savored the powerful tangy ambrosia that she emitted.
I nuzzled my way out of the impromptu tent that was her dress over me, and finally had an unfettered view of the rest of the festivities. She had undone the bun in her hair and her loose, silky curly blonde locks cascaded halfway down her back and her head was rolled back against the door and she tugged and pulled on her nipples maniacally. She almost seemed not to notice, so lost was she in continuous explosive, orgasmic release, when I rose and guided her to the bed, gingerly placing her on her back and resuming my oral ministrations.
Gently inserting three fingers into her indescribably wet pussy, I scooped my hands up under her ample ass and lifted her into the air from the king size bed, so that her back arched in ecstasy when I began to simultaneously assault her pink puckered anus with my tongue and lips. Laying her down once more, as she shrieked and pulled at my hair insanely, I delicately pulled her thighs apart and eased a fourth finger into her cunt, essentially fist-fucking her now, massaging her clit (yes, it was Texas-sized too!) with my free thumb, rubbing her spongy G-spot with my index and middle finger, and thrust two fingers into her asshole, duly lubricated by her own copious ejaculations.
It didn’t take long and Julie started to come like I’ve never sen a woman come. Julie, surprise, surprise, was a VERY vocal woman when she orgasmed and there were a lot of calls to the Lord and his almighty son in amongst the wails of “oh fuck, I’m coming. Don’t stop” etc.
If this sounds exhausting, well, it was. But, Goddamn, what a woman. The most uninhibited, dare I say it, slut, that I’ve ever had the pleasure of enjoying. And I hadn’t even been fucked or sucked yet. This was fun, the way one-night sex should be, a real-life instruction manual of how-to-have-hot-sex-with-a-stranger. Why can’t more women be like this, I mused, as Julie reached for my cock with an oral appetite that I hoped would be as voraciously enthusiastic as was her penchant for receiving.
Oh, boy, was it ever!
She frenched me with a near-punishing kiss and suddenly she was over me on the bed, somehow, lying between my legs, trapping my hands behind my head. Her big tits heaved in desire, coated in perspiration, crimson red, and I swear she had succeeded in tugging so vehemently on her own puffy, swollen nipples that they protruded a good inch-and-a-half from her (yep, you guessed it, big) areolas.
“Hold on, stranger, you’re about to get a blowjob from a slutty Texas gal.” Like Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s proclamation, these are words that now live in infamy.
To my joint amusement and arousal, Julie proceeded to provide a running narrative of the events unfolding, much like a play-by-play announcer of an NFL game. It went something like this, as best I can recall without the benefit of audio replay.
She kissed her way south as she slid down my body and then down onto her knees, on the floor in front of me as I propped my elbows up on the bed to see the oral fireworks that I was confident were about to unfold before my eyes. I almost panged for some popcorn to watch the show.
Her cheek brushed the length of my ‘magnificent’ cock as she did. (Julie’s word, not mine. I just think I’m merely spectacular, but that’s a humble approach.)
She kissed the tip lovingly and cradled my shaft in her soft (um, big) hands. Closing her blue eyes, she nuzzled the fuzz at the base, seemingly inhaling and loving the very male scent of my cock and balls. Lifting the shaft high, Julie teased both sides of my ball sack with her extremely talented lips and tongue. “You are so incredibly made!” she gushed. She was definitely good for the ego. If it wasn’t for the fact that I never wanted to see her again after tonight, I would probably marry her.
I heard her indrawn breath as she took my heavy balls into her mouth one at a time, laving them, sucking softly, licking. (I’ll admit, my testicles are really big, for a non-Texas guy, at least.)
She murmured out of the corner of her mouth as she devoured them, now acting like the color commentator on the event, more descriptive this time, less clinical. “One of the fantastic things about guys past their forties is that the scrotum is finally loose enough to make their balls move a little easier,” she slurped, as her pretty, blonde head ducked under my sack and she began to rim my anus with her tongue and massage the incredibly tender spot right on the base of my pubic bone. (I LOVE that spot!)
I was getting impossibly hard, but didn’t want to cum just yet, so I decided to take it up another notch. I knew I could do anything I wanted with this gorgeous, playful slut and she would like it, it was a contest to her, an exhibition, an adventure. I looked down at her and began to sneer every filthy name I could thing of, imploring her to take all of my big cock down her slutty throat. With her lips parted, she paused momentarily just at the tip of my cock, and licked across the tip, before deep-throating me in one impressive gulp.
My hand flew to her hair and I grasped a snug handful of golden locks, pulling her closer. I couldn’t help but smile as she smiled up at me, nearly gagging, but with my stiff, long shaft entirely embedded in her mouth as she sucked on it in small swallows, clearly proud of her cocksucking skills, and rightfully so.
She pulled out of me, panting, gasping for breath, and I reluctantly released my grip on her skull for just a second. “You have amazing stamina, cowboy. Most guys would have shot their goo all over me already.” I thought her use of the word ‘goo’ was exceedingly cute; maybe it was a Texas thing.
Nonetheless, I tried to stifle my smile as I again pressed her mouth back to my impatient cock. “Who said you could stop, you married Texas whore? You call yourself a cocksucker?”
Her big blue eyes flickered at me in glee. “You’re so much fucking fun, you know that?” She was playing the game with self-imposed impunity. She knew exactly what I was trying to do, raising the verbal stakes. She WAS fun herself, that was for sure, and despite my statement to the contrary, a world-class cocksucker. And she knew it. So I gave in and told her so and she resumed. She would stop occasionally and acknowledge the compliments, but never stopped stroking my shaft when she spoke.
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