Headed South

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

I always hated the winter. Obnoxious lights blinking at me, fat men in red suits proclaiming that everything was just jolly. And then there’s the cold… you can’t even walk outside without your fucking knees trembling.

I had this dream from the time I was a small child. I’d write my first masterpiece by the time I was 15, get all kinds of fancy book deals and change the world with my words. Whilst all this was going on, I’d find a partner who could handle my neuroses and adopt a few children from Ethiopia or someplace equally “unfortunate”. But there I sat, 28 years old, no masterpiece, no book deal, no wife and only my cats and a collection of OTHER people’s books to call my “babies”. The lack of suitable material for creative inspiration was mind-numbing. I sat by the freezing cold window day after day watching my snowy prison as its walls grew higher. All that came out of my pen all season were morbid tales of death and blood and evil. When it became painfully aware that I was hardly the next Poe, I decided that I had to get out of my icy Hellhole and find a story worth telling. I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew I was headed south.

I packed a bag, already dreading what was sure to be the holiday rush from Hell (this was, after all, just 3 days before Christmas), scattered food and water throughout my frat-boy looking apartment and hopped in my cab for the airport. “JFK”, I said, almost shocked by the enthusiasm in my voice. “Going home?” the driver asked. “Something like that.”

I had the driver drop me off at terminal “C”- why the hell not?- and I approached the sliding glass doors with an excited sort of caution. I walked slowly passed ticket counter after ticket counter, hoping an idea would strike me. It was 9 am, so as I lurked by the cheery desk clerks in their annoyingly beige attire, I scanned the red-lit lists for the soonest escape. “New York to Austin — 10:45” Bingo.

I didn’t know a lot about Texas- just that it was warmer and where George Bush was from. I boarded the plane early with the other First Class passengers and looked around- consciously taking in the every sight, smell and sound. Planes always freaked me out. Something about being trapped in a big metal cage with dozens of strangers, breathing the same putrid, germ-infested air over and over again always seemed a little grotesque.

I’d always wondered how anybody could fuck in those bathrooms. Not only are they terribly small, but they are so goddamn dirty. Don’t get me wrong…. I totally get the whole exhibitionist draw to joining the so-called “Mile High Club”, but did the exciting risk outweigh the possible flesh-eating viruses? I wasn’t so sure.

Maybe it was her skirt, maybe it was the inevitable ninety-nine glasses of wine she served me, or maybe it was the fact that I hadn’t had a good pounding, so to speak, in six months, but something about the hot little blonde teaching me how to survive a crash made me rethink my position. I put my headphones in my ears and closed my eyes. She was cute, but who was she kidding? If that plane went down, the other First Classers and I were dying first. “Your seat can be detached and used as a floatation device…” Okay, got it.

When we landed in Austin 16 days and the Houston layover from Hell later, I thought I might die from exhaustion before I even made it to the hotel room. I’d called from Houston and reserved a room near downtown at the “Driskill”. According to my editor (I use that term very loosely) it was an historic hotel that was supposedly haunted. She knew of my morbid fascination with the paranormal so I guess she figured it’d be right up my alley. Whatever. It had a bed.

I trampled through downtown, quickly discovering that this was either a college town or everyone here just drank- a lot. With every intention of climbing into bed and falling asleep, I climbed the marble staircase, flung open the door, threw my bag down and sprawled out across the foot of the over-sized bed.

As soon as my eyes shut, the pounding from the street below made them slam open again. “You have got to be kidding me.” I covered my head with the huge down pillow, hummed to myself, crammed my fingers in my ears and nothing… there was no use even trying to sleep at this point. The jet-lag was starting to wear off and a nervous sense of excitement filled me. Suddenly throwing on a dress, putting my shoes back on and going out and seeing what all the ruckus was about didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

I strolled along, watching the drunken debauchery and wondering how many unplanned pregnancies and DWI’s would ensue at night’s end. Not wanting to walk too far from my hotel, I wandered into a bar on the corner and took a seat in the corner booth. The bar wasn’t too crowded- Mersin Escort just a group of about 20 seated near the stage. I ordered a Rum and Pineapple Juice from the waitress. I’d always heard that you could taste the pineapple in a woman’s juices… I’d wondered if there was any truth to that, but I was yet to try out the theory… Besides, I liked pineapples anyway so why not?…

I retrieved my Blackberry from my pocket and started returning the pointless emails I had, until this point, ignored. About twenty minutes into my stay at the bar, a woman stepped onto the wooden platform and tinkered with the microphone. “Check, check, check” she said in a voice that seemed to pour out of her like cream. A patron walked by and said something to her I couldn’t hear and she let loose a girlish laugh that made me look away because I could feel myself beginning to blush. Every few seconds I’d glance her way. I traced her body from foot to head over and over again, memorizing every inch. Her shoes were unapologetically slutty: red patent leather with an ankle strap. Ankle straps always scream “fuck me”, do they not? Her legs were freshly-shaven. Something told me that she had shaved them only hours before and subsequently lathered them with lotion- she wanted every man in that bar to WANT to touch those legs, but she’d only be teasing them. Her little white shorts rode up every time she moved. I could almost trace the outline of her pussy with my eyes but I didn’t. I couldn’t stop watching her… those legs had got me wondering what else she had freshly-shaven.

Her waist was exaggerated, like an old pin-up model’s. Her hips- set out wide, just yearning to be grasped on either side and pulled near to someone who knew what to do with them. Her breasts, large and firm, stretched her black tank top and demonstrated proudly every breath she took. Her hair fell down on her shoulders softly: paying homage to her beautifully protruding collar bones. Her face was round and healthy, a few freckles thrown here and there on her button nose. Girl next door and vixen all rolled into one. This girl looked like someone who would come over to lunch at my grandma’s house and then fuck the shit out of me in Nanna’s pink, fluffy bathroom while she made me and “my new friend” dinner.

The lights dimmed and I came back to reality. She sat down on her stool with her guitar and scooted up to the microphone. There were those shorts again. “My name is Sam Samuels. Thanks for coming out tonight.” Those were the only words she spoke.

She started off slow: crooning beautifully simple ballads and love songs. Her pace began to pick up with the pace of the free shots the patrons and bar owners all but poured down her throat. Her voice was beautiful, but I can’t pretend that I was listening to the lyrics. With every word she sang, I watched her mouth move, just wondering what it would feel like on my lips and even more, what it would feel like between my thighs. As she sang a cover of a song I could’ve sworn I’d heard a million times, her right leg tapped along with each beat she strummed. Each time her toes hit the wood, the muscles in her calf and thigh strained and trembled. Beads of sweat dripped from underneath her shorts and left a trail down her thigh and past her knee. The room feel silent as I imagined what it would feel like to lick the saltiness from her thigh tracing it all the way back to where it came from. Just the thought of tasting her put my nipples at high salute.

I had another drink. And then another. And then another.

She finished playing at about 12 and another band took the stage. They were louder and I was beginning to feel intoxicated so I closed out my tab and searched for the bathroom to make a quick pee stop before I began my trek back to the hotel. I flung open the door awkwardly and went into the nearest empty stall. Perching so I wouldn’t touch anything (ever the germaphobe), I relieved my bladder quickly and upon wiping the leftover, was shocked at how wet Sam had managed to make me. Accidentally brushing my apparently very swollen clit with the tissue, I rolled my eyes. I was ready to go… How did she get me so aroused without even touching me?

I stepped out of my stall and went over to the sink. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sam washing her hands. She carefully rubbed the tops of her hands, the spaces in between her fingers and even her forearms. Never had cleanliness made me think so dirtily.

I did everything I could to avoid eye contact, but as we went for the paper towel dispenser at the same time, I couldn’t help but look up.

“I’m sorry, you go first” I said awkwardly. “No, no! You’re good. Go ahead.”

I didn’t of course- I just stood there like a big boob, waiting for Escort Mersin her to just take a damn paper towel already.

“You know what?” She said, “You take a paper towel and I’ll use this.”

As I turned my face towards hers hoping to understand just what she was implying, she drew both of her hands down either side of my shirt. The dampness I could feel on my shirt mirrored the dampness in my pants and I let out a little shiver. She looked at me and let out a little “hmm” that made me blush and dart my eyes away. “I am SUCH a loser”, I thought to myself.

She held the door for me as we left the bathroom and retreated to our own corners. She was hanging with a group of friends watching the Very Loud Band (or so I named them) play and I sat in my corner “checking my email”. She pounded down a few more shots and was obviously having a great time. I really needed to sleep and stop being a creepy stalker fucking moron, but I really didn’t want to miss her. So I drank a few more…

About 30 minutes before last call, I had to pee again. Bad. I was borderline about to start doing a pee dance on my way into the stall. I’ll be damned if when I came out of the stall she wasn’t standing there leaning against the sinks almost waiting for me to come out. I was drunk enough at this point that I was less hesitant to make eye contact.

“Hey”, I said softly.

“Hey”, she retorted.

I walked closer, looking away now, as if I wasn’t already scheming a plan in my mind. I leaned close to her, so close that I could smell her coconut shampoo and the soft scent of girl sweat I could see glistening on her skin.

“You were really great tonight. I meant to say that earlier.”

“Oh, please, I was so off-key… Thanks, though… you’re sweet.”

“Sometimes”, I said with a grin, pleased with myself.

“Oh yeah?” she said as she lightly grazed my shoulder with hers, daring me to prove it.

Quickly, there was only a thin layer of clothes between us. I could feel her hip bones pressing against mine. I threw caution to the wind, took her face in my hands and kissed her soft, pouty lips lightly with mine. Her eyes told me she was surprised that I’d made the first move, but as her velvet tongue thrust in and out of my mouth, her swollen lips pressing against mine, lusting for release, I could feel that she was glad I did.

Never letting go of my lips, she led me into the corner stall, shut and locked the door. Drenched. The passion in me built up every time our lips met. I grabbed her hair with both hands and held her bottom lip between my teeth, just in case she still thought she was in control. Letting our kiss go, if only for a moment, I stepped back to look at her. This woman was quite possibly the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen and I was about to fuck her. Was this all a dream? I grabbed the bottom of her black tank and lifted it just enough to see her tummy, then all the way up exposing her uncontained breasts. She lifted her arms over her head, obeying without even hearing the order… There she stood, topless, clearly craving something more. She stared right into my eyes, parted her lips and let out a pleading “fuck me”. I reached out for her hip with my left hand and pulled her in a little closer. Positioning her near the wall of the stall so she could brace herself, I slid the tip of my right hand slowly down the front of her shorts. Her knees buckled more and more the lower I went and as my fingers found their way to her throbbing clit, her body conformed to mine and she let out the most beautiful moan in my ear. I rubbed in circles first, then up and down, then side to side- which she seemed to like the most. I’d tease her and rub lightly or purposely AROUND her clit and then make up for it in firm, fast, long strokes. When I could feel that she was aroused just enough, I let my thumb do the rubbing and slipped one… then two… then three fingers into her soaking wet pussy. “Fuck me.” All of her weight leaned on me as she raked her fingernails down my back. The closer she got to cumming, the closer I got. Nothing gets me off like fucking a woman like I mean it.

I HAD to taste her. I had just met her and I craved her so badly I could hardly stand it. I could feel her wetness beginning to drip down my fingers and could smell the scent of sex escaping from her shorts. I unbuttoned them, slowly coming down to my knees. She peered down at me- a look of shock and excited fear in her sultry brown eyes. I slid her shorts down her endless legs, my hands gliding over the baby soft skin of her ass. Truth be told, as soon as I felt her butt beneath my fingertips, I wished I’d either had a dick or a strap-on so I could bend her over and watch it shake with every thrust. I left her shorts Mersin Bayan Escort around her ankles- they kept her from giving into her natural desire to spread her legs wide for me. She squirmed with pleasure as my hot breath met her pussy. It was clean-shaven, just as I had expected. I spread her lips apart with my fingertips and felt my own pussy tighten with excitement as I stared upon the luscious pinkness and glistening wetness of hers. I licked her clit slowly, igniting a chain of pleasured moans and sighs, taking it completely into my mouth and nibbling slightly with my front teeth. Flicking my tongue in circular movements with my lips still pressed firmly over it, I slipped in two fingers and moved them round and round to mimic what I was doing with my tongue. Varying my speed, I hit every wall with my fingers over and over again. “Fuck me.” She writhed with pleasure, bracing herself on my shoulders. As I felt the pressure in her pussy begin to rise, I slid my thumb deep inside, kneading the tender skin there. Wondering what her reaction would be, I wet my index finger with her juices and slid it delicately into her ass- just in far enough that I could meet my thumb with it through the thin layer between her pussy and ass. I rubbed my thumb and finger together lightly, but it was enough to send her over the edge.

“Oh my god…”

I watched her face with purpose as she came, with a song-like “F-f-f-f-f-fuck.” She shook uncontrollably, digging her nails into my shoulders. Strands of her hair clung to her glistening forehead. Her breasts heaved and she gasped trying to catch her breath.

“Oh my god”, she whispered.

I stood up, proudly, and kissed her passionately. Even the sounds she made when she breathed were sexy. I could have stayed there fucking her in that stall all night. She regained some strength and spun me around to face the wall of the stall. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have complied so readily, but something about her made me not mind being bossed around a little bit. Plus, I’ve always kind of liked it from behind so, who would I be kidding? She slid my dress up onto my hips, exposing my eager thighs and ass, concealed by the thin layer of my black lacey boy shorts. As I braced myself with both arms against the wall, her right hand found its way down my front, underneath the lace. She rubbed my clit zealously and quickly as she slid her other hand down the back of my panties. As one hand made love to my clit, the other glided in and out, in and out, bringing me close to orgasm within minutes. Just as I was about to come, she stopped and turned me around.

“I want to taste you.”

As she kneeled between my legs, my dress rested lightly on her now very wild, sweaty hair. She nibbled by thigh then bit down hard. “That’s gonna leave a mark,” I thought. She licked, nibbled and fingered me with an almost animalistic hunger. “When you cum…” The wetness of her tongue was quite possibly the most amazing thing I’d ever felt. “…I’m going to leave my fingers inside…” She swirled them around as I had and I writhed in ecstasy. “…And I’m going to kiss you…” She was a really good kisser… I’d always loved kissing right as I came. It kept me from screaming and always ensued a very deep, wet kiss. “… So you can taste yourself…”

Hearing those words coming from such a beautiful, ironically very virginal-looking mouth made me cum so hard I couldn’t see. Just as she’d said she was going to, she continued to stroke the inside of my pussy. As I tightened my muscles to squeeze her fingers and make sure she FELT the throbbing tightening and releasing inside of me that she had caused, she stood in front of me. Pulling my hair with her free hand, she pulled my face to hers and kissed me deeply and passionately.

“Do you taste that? Is that not incredible?…”

“Mhmm…” I couldn’t make words and still could hardly see straight.

“What is that taste?… Oh my God, it’s amazing,” she said, astounded and wide-eyed like a schoolgirl. I laughed, shifted my clothes back to where they belonged and opened the door to the stall. She closed it behind me and shuffled around getting dressed. From the stall she spoke to me: “Will I see you again?”

I thought about what my answer should be… Obviously, she was beautiful and a great fuck, but… I had to go back to New York in just a few days. Seeing no point in a sad goodbye, I hurried towards the door while she was still in the stall getting dressed.

“Hey, I don’t know, but the bar’s closing. I’ve gotta go.”

“Wait… what? Wait…” she said, clearly trying to get dressed quickly.

I walked quicker to make sure I got out of the bar and out of sight before she could see me. I didn’t want to have a complicated conversation or ruin the ending to what was already a pretty perfect story. Part of me felt a little raunchy, but on the way out I said with a grin, “I think it’s pineapple… hmmm… Who woulda thought?” …and I let the door close behind me.

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