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More than Just a Passing Acquaintance
HE WAS THINKING….
His eyes scanned the bar as he talked to his new “bar-buddies.” They were watching the Monday Night Football pre-game, and critiquing both the teams playing that night and the various women scattered around the bar. After about five minutes he spotted her, and knew that she was the one. Certainly not “Miss Right,” but very likely “Miss Right Now.”
It had been a long hard day. Okay, it had been a long hard several months. This day had just brought it to a head. Computer problems, a weekend domestic crisis for one of his best employees and two clients who insisted (all electronic appointment calendars to the contrary) that they had meetings with him today which he had “blown off” had pretty much sealed the day as a disaster. Not a good day at all. What he needed was a meaningless energy release. That was why he’d come to the bar – to have a few drinks and blow off steam. He wasn’t expected anywhere at any time tonight. When he saw her, however, it was clear that what he needed was sexual release. He didn’t want or need love, romance or anything to worry about in the morning. He wanted to fuck her and forget her.
She was Miss Right Now because he could almost smell that she was there for the same reason he was. She didn’t look quite comfortable in the racy outfit she was wearing. It wasn’t that she didn’t look great, but that she looked self-conscious, not like it was her natural self. He didn’t want a slut as much as he wanted someone who wasn’t normally like that, but nonetheless needed to get laid.
SHE WAS THINKING….
Her eyes scanned the place as she sat by herself at the bar, nursing her glass of Chardonnay What am I doing here? She figured she had about an hour before her courage ran out and she went home alone. If it didn’t happen soon, it wasn’t going to. Then she spotted him, and knew he was the one. Certainly not “Mr. Right,” but very likely “Mr. Right Now.”
She was wearing an outfit she’d picked up at Wal-Mart on the way over, something definitely not her. Her finely tailored grey wool suit hung from the hook in the back seat of her vehicle, along with the silk blouse and demure underwear she’d been wearing at the office. A tight, white, pretty much transparent top that fit like a second skin over her bra-less chest highlighted what she had on now. A denim jacket over that, unbuttoned. A black polyester mini-skirt that clung to her ass, with a skimpy black thong underneath. No hose, and a pair of “come fuck me” pumps. Her hair was back in a clip, and she was wearing too much makeup. If she was going to be a bad girl, she was going to look the part.
She knew what everyone in the bar was thinking about her. She smiled to herself and thought about what her psychology professor would have said about that about 20 years ago. The “bar fly” women who were alone were thinking “bitch” as they noted that they’d lost the male attention they normally had to themselves. The women with their dates were thinking “slut” as they tried to keep their men from sneaking glances at her. Those same men were hard and were trying to hide it from those aforementioned dates, secretly wishing that the women they were with looked like her. Then there were the single and married men who’d hit on her already. There description ranged from “stuck up bitch” to “lesbian bitch” depending on how she’d turned them down.
He was Mr. Right Now because he didn’t belong here any more than she did. He wasn’t dressed the part, for one thing. He had obviously come directly from his office, where they must have had a casual dress code, but he had obligations that kept him out of sport shirts and denim. He had on a nicely tailored blazer with a striped dress shirt and a club time. His hair was cut short and compared to the other men in the bar he was far and above the classiest. She was sure he wasn’t a player. That was important. She didn’t want or need love or romance, but she also didn’t want to be a notch on a bedpost for some arrogant ass. She thought he wanted what she wanted, and the only question was whether he’d make the move before she lost her nerve.
WHAT HAPPENED THEN….
The bartender approached her, a newly filled glass of Chardonnay in his hand.
“From the gentleman at the end of the bar.”
“Tell the gentleman,” she replied, pushing the glass back toward him, “that if the gentleman wants to pick me up, he’s going to need to bring this glass himself.”
As his buddies watched her push the glass back to the bartender, they clapped him on the back and told him he was now truly a member of the gang, since she’d rejected him just like she’d done the rest of them. The laughing stopped abruptly as the bartender set the glass down in front of him.
“Someone’s going to get lucky tonight.” the bartender said. “Take her the drink, and don’t go ‘three and out’ and punt,” he laughed. “The bar’s depending on you to bahis firmaları score.”
He walked toward her and she slid off the stool as he approached, the skirt riding high up on her thighs. He gestured toward an open table in the corner and she moved toward it. She took off her jacket and stretched for him. Only a fool would have thought it was a necessary stretch. It was purely a honey trap, and his eyes locked on her hard nipples just like they were supposed to. Now that she had him, the question was whether he could get her.
He pulled his eyes away from her breasts reluctantly and looked directly into her eyes before he spoke.
“You don’t belong here,” he said.
“You don’t either,” she replied. “But that doesn’t matter, does it?”
“No, I guess not. I’m John,” he said, quickly searching for a name.
She smiled and looked back at him, knowing it was a lie. “Tess,” she answered, holding out her hand in greeting, holding it entirely too long for a social handshake, and raking her nails on his palm as she let go. He knew she was lying as well, but at that moment he couldn’t care less.
He opened his lips to make some kind of comment, about the weather, the bar, or anything. Anything that would cut through the obvious sexual tension that hung between them; anything that would make sure he wouldn’t blow this.
She lifted her finger to his lips to hush him. She rubbed his lips a little, even pushing her finger in a tiny bit before she spoke. “Everybody in this bar started at their own 20. Most of them went for it all on first down, and their passes were batted down cold. You made 15 yards on a nice run by sending the drink, and got to my 20 by having the balls to bring it to me. Now, you’re in the red zone. Listen to your offensive coordinator. The game plan is to run right up the middle. Nothing fancy, just drive it up the middle if you want to put it in my end zone.”
“You know your football,” he chuckled, somewhat reddened by her directness.
“No, John. I just want you to score.” Under the table, she ran her hand brazenly up his pant leg until she reached his hard cock. “Just shut up and put it in the end zone.”
John stood up and offered her his hand, picking up her jacket off the back of the chair. Tess smoothed her skirt over her thighs and turned a little, giving the bar another show as she stretched her arms over her head. The patrons in the front got an eyeful of her proud breasts and rock hard nipples, and those behind her got a shot of her ass as the stretch pulled the skirt up higher than it was supposed to be. John held the door open for Tess and put his hand directly on her ass to guide her through it, pausing only to grin at his friends at the bar. As the door shut behind him, he could swear he heard cheering – maybe it was only for something that happened on the game.
They walked together to the parking lot, arms around each other. She ran her hand admiringly over the fender of his late model Jaguar and complimented him on his choice, remarking that she’d spent a lot of time in one just like it. As he opened the door for her, he leaned over and kissed her hard on the mouth. Not a love kiss… a lust kiss. Their tongues battled for control as his hand moved up to squeeze her breast. Her hand went back to his groin, squeezing his cock, and she melted into the seat, rubbing her nipples against his body on her way down.
Without speaking, he pulled out of the parking lot and out of the city, toward a “no-tell” motel with an interior parking lot and a drive-through check in, about 30 miles away. Tess felt the cool leather on her heated skin and enjoyed the feeling. She looked around the inside of the car for the telltale sign. She had a feeling there was a woman in John’s life, and she looked to find how the woman had marked her territory. For all the jokes about men marking, she knew that women did it as well, and that you could tell a lot about a woman by how she did it. If there was one, Tess thought, she was very secure with herself. None of the obvious things the less educated insecure women did, the notes taped to the dash, an extra bag or item of clothing in the back seat. Secure women marked in very subtle ways, because they were only concerned about women like themselves – any man they picked would be unlikely to fall for a less sophisticated woman, so they worried only about the intelligent ones.
“There it is,” Tess thought to herself. Very good, this one. A perfect touch, an emery board tucked into a corner of the console. This man was a good one, but no man kept an emery board in his car in the event that a “yet to be determined” woman would need one. No, this was left by his woman. The second touch, even more subtle. In the inside pocket of the blazer he’d hung on the hook was a matched pen and pencil set, in the same burlwood that decorated the dash of the Jag. A present to celebrate the purchase of the car, she guessed.
Satisfied, kaçak iddaa Tess decided that it was her time to mark, but in a way befitting her current self. Before they made it two miles from the bar, she was on her knees bent over the center console, pulling his cock out of his pants and wrapping her too-dark red lips around it. Driving with one hand and a knee, John reached over her ass, cupping it and working his fingers around the thong to her pussy, completely bypassing her clit and forcing two fingers inside her. That brought an audible grunt from Tess as she forced her mouth down further over his cock, clamping once set of lips on his cock and the other on his fingers. This was no sweet oral sex.. this was a blowjob, pure and simple. John angled his hips upward, feeding more cock into Tess’ greedy mouth.
They pulled into the drive of the motel, John letting Tess know that they were about to be seen. Tess let go of his cock long enough to tell him that she didn’t care what a fucking motel clerk thought and that she hoped he enjoyed the show. She went back to work, and went so far as to reach back behind her and pull her skirt up over her back, to allow anyone who wanted to see the view of her bare ass and John’s fingers plunging rapidly into her.
Sure enough the clerk gaped and smirked as John handed him a $50 for the room and a $20 tip for skipping the registration process and just handing him a key for a room at the far end of the lot. John wondered idly if there was a security camera the clerks would be watching, and decided, like Tess had, that he didn’t give a shit.
When the car pulled to a stop, Tess lifted her head up from John’s lap, lipstick smeared and lips glistening from the combination of saliva and his pre-cum. Seeing the door on her side, she grabbed the room key from John’s hand and quickly left the car, leaving him to follow her out of the car and into the room.
The room was simple. A queen size bed, a TV mounted on the wall with a placard on it advertising the pay-per-view satellite porn that was available. Tess made no secret of her urgency. The door hadn’t even closed before she started stripping, peeling the shirt off and dropping it on the floor, uncovering her breasts and leaving her nipples free to feel the cool air and get even harder than they’d been from her earlier excitement. He moved to her and tugged the skirt down over her hips, letting it drop around her feet. She stood there in front of him in a thong and her heels. She bent over to unstrap the shoes but John stopped her, telling her he wanted her to keep them on.
Tess helped John quickly out of his clothes as well. Her lips burned on his chest as she kissed it, sucking and tugging on his nipples as her hands undid his belt and dropped his pants to the floor. He stepped out of his shoes and socks and they stood there, nearly naked and clawing at each other. John pulled Tess to him, pressing her body against his, holding her hips tightly with his fingertips embedded in her ass cheeks. His cock burned against her belly and Tess was sure if she pulled away her skin would be singed. Pulling her head back by the hair, John forced his mouth down on her, roughly pushing his tongue nearly to her throat. Tess felt she was about to faint from the sheer passion of it and the only marginally operating part of her brain thanked herself for picking the right man that night.
Tess broke the kiss and pulled away. She turned around and faced the bed, grabbing the footboard as she bent over. The shoes tilted her ass up in such a way that her pussy was wide open to his view, the thong pulled taught between her lips.
“First and goal, John,” she said over her shoulder, wriggling her ass seductively, “ready to score?”
Without a word, John moved behind her, peeling the thong down just enough to give him access to her Tess’ dripping cunt. With no attempt at foreplay, he grabbed both hips and plunged his cock in to the hilt, feeling the head bump her cervix. The ferocity of the thrust took Tess’ breath away and if John hadn’t been holding her hips so tightly, she’d certainly have fallen forward onto the bed. Pulling almost all the way out, John suddenly pulled Tess back against him by her hips, impaling her again and bringing her hands fully off the bed. Tess lost all sense of control as John used her pussy roughly. Time and time again his hard cock entered her, searing the walls of her pussy with his heat. The velvet lining of Tess’ pussy gripped John with its silky smoothness. She was perfect inside, tight enough to grip him and give him pleasure, and lubricated enough to ensure both their continued comfort and the likelihood that he would last long enough to make her cum again and again.
Where there bodies met was the axis of the action. Sometimes John would push her forward and put his weight on her, pounding so hard that his balls and thighs made a wet slapping sound as his body hit her ass. When he pulled her back against kaçak bahis him, John would reach around and grab her breast roughly, squeezing it, twisting her nipple and sending shivers of pleasure/pain through her. John had no idea how many times Tess came, although several times he felt the muscles of her cunt grip him harder, and there were times that her moans extended, taking on an almost eerie quality. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about her pleasure, it was that it wasn’t going to make any difference. They were mating, fucking, shagging, doing it, call it what you will. This was not making love.
Tess’ mind was blank and void of conscious thought. Colors swirled in her mind and soul as their bodies moved together, his thrusts like white bolts of pleasure burning a path along the neurons in her brain. When he withdrew her mind saw black emptiness, causing her to push back hungrily to meet another thrust, to feed her more of the drug that was coursing through her system. When John grabbed her nipples another bolt of color, this time red, burst across the inside of her closed eyelids. Tess was living the sensations rather than feeling them, rainbow lights flashed each time she came, sometimes continuing seemingly for hours as wave after wave of orgasmic delight overtook her. The built up walls of stress started melting, getting weak, breaking down and giving her new life.
Something in Tess’ mind was tied to John’s. She knew rather than felt that he was nearing his own orgasm. She had made love many times, and beautifully. She’d had tawdry little quickies that weren’t really about love before, but she had never been so thoroughly and completely fucked. This was different from love-making, not better, but different. It was heat and passion. It wasn’t just that anyone could have done this to her… she knew it was the particular chemistry between the two of them, at this particular moment, that caused it. She knew that he knew it as well. She also knew that right now, she wanted to be a slut and nothing more than a sex object.
John’s thrusts grew harder and deeper as the cum boiled in his balls seeking its release. Feeling its imminence, Tess pushed back and spun around, dropping to her knees. The first blast of cum hit her square in her lips, which had not yet opened to take him in. It dripped down her chin, hanging there lasciviously. She grabbed his throbbing cock and pointed it at her chest, and then her face, as he doused her at will with hot cum. When she felt the initial rush subsiding, Tess took his still hard cock in her mouth, milking it for every drop of the precious juice. John’s hands wrapped in her hair, now only partially contained by the clip and making her look very much the part of a cheap tramp. Satisfied that she’d emptied him for now, Tess stood up, cum dripping from her face and breasts. She lifted her hands up, rubbing the cum onto her nipples, moisturizing her skin with it. With a finger she scooped some up and fed herself; the rest she massaged into her face and neck, so that when she tilted her head up for a deep hard kiss, he could taste himself everywhere.
Tess playfully pushed John onto the bed, and jumped on herself, tackling him and landing on top. Her still-hard nipples burned holes in his skin wherever they touched him, and the smell of sex was like a cloud in the room. She knew he needed a few minutes to recover, but she knew some little tips about dealing with men as well. While John pulled himself up a bit with his head on two of the pillows, Tess grabbed a couple of glasses of water and explored the bathroom. Coming back to the bed she pointed the remote at the TV and surfed through the channels looking for something to pass the time before round 2 (“or was that the second quarter,” she thought to herself). After watching a quarter of the same game that had started this whole adventure, she grew restless. Casually she used the remote to locate the pay per view menu, and looked for something to help arouse John. Looking through the descriptions she found one that she thought would meet her needs, raunchy and full of things to make comments on.
The film opened with a woman going down on her boyfriend in an alley behind what seemed to be the bar they had been in, typical porn fare. Things were complicated quickly when what was supposed to be a gang grabbed the woman and dumped her in a car. The next scene showed her pleading to be released while the “gang” (five well hung black men) decided how they wanted to use her. John’s hand started roaming down Tess’ back towards her ass, and she could feel his heart beating faster, indicating that the visual stimuli were starting to work. Sliding down the bed, she took his semi-erect cock in her mouth and started sucking, teasing it into a full hardon. The scene shifted and the men had laid the girl on her back, her head hanging back over the edge of a bed. Tess imitated her, inviting John to stand up and fuck her throat. She gagged at first but then took it easily. The feeling of his balls resting on her chin whenever he filled her mouth with is cock was exquisite. Both of them were watching the scene and it was having the effect she wanted.
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