Wednesday, December 31, 2008

What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?

So... what are you doin' New Year's Eve? Maybe you'll be at the Peep Drop in Bethlehem, PA, or The Cheese Drop in Plymouth, WI. Maybe instead you'll be watching the Peach Drop in ATL or the Great Sausage Drop (my favorite) in little Elmore, OH just down the road from the world famous Walleye Drop in Port Clinton. They drop a big Acorn in Raleigh, NC. Why? I'm not sure. In Easton, MD they'll let a Maryland Crab fall to Earth, which is cool, but you have to love that in crazy Key West, FL they will lower (not drop!) a Pirate Wench. I better get going if I'm gonna get to the Keys in time to catch that comely wench!

Whatever you do tonight, don't get hurt... and don't hurt someone else. That's my only rule you crazy kids.



Tuesday, December 30, 2008

BBF and R&B

The uptown area of our little college town was probably like many small towns across the country. It consisted of about eight blocks of mainly two story brick buildings, the first floor housing a business and the second floor being either offices or apartments. All across the Midwest these buildings held appliance stores, repair shops, greasy spoons, insurance offices, and the like. This being a college town where the student population exceeded the townie population the stores were bars, head shops, taverns, record stores, boutiques, pubs, college book stores, bars, a Marx-Lenin reading room, bars, health food stores, t-shirt shops, taverns, and a bagel shop.

I walked with Linda, listening to her talk about something or other and remembering her voice and how she flirted with me at a dinner at Luigi’s when she was with a jerk who she later dumped and I was with Margery who later dumped me. No wonder I can’t remember what she was talking about, my mind was weighing other things.

We went up a narrow staircase that led from a door in between the record store and a gift shop. Linda’s little apartment was over the gift shop. It was clean, drafty, and decorated in the current style: cheap print cloth from India draped over beat-up furniture and used to cover banged-up walls. Macrame plant hangers were suspended everywhere with hand-thrown pots nested in them holding plants in various stages of certain death. A foot locker sat in front of the batik-covered couch doubling as a cocktail table. On it was a stack of art books, matches, a lighter, and a clean ash tray. Linda's foot locker was new and blue in color. The one back in my dorm room was olive drab and had my dad’s name stenciled on it as well as several shipping labels that were yellowing and peeling off. Mine went through WW2, her’s had probably come from a trendy, modern, 70's boutique. I liked mine better.

Linda turned the heater up, put a tea kettle on the tiny gas range, and told me to have a seat. I plopped down on the couch as she turned around and took her gloves, head scarf, and enormous Army coat off. I was instantly glad she did as under it she had on a beige sweater. It was a tight sweater and none too thick. No wonder she was cold when I saw her on campus, the poor thing didn’t dress properly and had started her day in this refrigerator of an apartment. Linda had adopted the popular habit of not wearing a bra and it was evident that she was still quite cold. I tried not to stare at the evidence, of course, while I immediately began to reconsider my idea of joining a celibate order or the priesthood. I mean, after, all, I’m not even Catholic.

She ducked into her tiny bathroom to mess with her hair since she had been wearing that scarf. I thought she looked fine when she came out, whatever she had done. She sat in a chair across from me and we engaged in small talk about school until the kettle whistled and she poured us some tea. Tea to me was a bag of Lipton dunked until a dark beverage was produced. Tea to Linda was a bunch of stuff that looked like green pot scooped into a miniature aluminum diving bell with holes punched in it. That device was dunked for a while in a mug of hot water until a pale, greenish liquid resulted. I sipped some and thought it tasted like yard clippings soaked in hot water. She sat down next to me on the couch and seemed to enjoy her tea and the warmth it provided.

We talked about her a bit. She had changed her major to Fine Arts which meant she’d be at school a fifth year. I wondered to myself if that was fallout from her pal Margery leaving, if she was afraid to leave school, or if she just liked art. After we talked for a while she remarked that I didn’t seem very happy or talkative—that I had changed since the last time she saw me—she hadn’t thought of me as being moody. I told her I was surprised she even remembered me and never considered that she might think of me, moody or otherwise. I told her I had broken up with a girlfriend and wasn’t very happy about it. She said she was sorry and asked how fresh the wound was and I told her that it had happened last December.

She smiled, almost laughed, and said, “Wow. That’s a long time to be down about breaking up with someone. Doncha think?”
I allowed as how it might be.
“I think there are a few girls around campus that would help you out with your problem, ya know?” she said. She said it with a very light-hearted tone—not an intimation that she had herself in mind for that gruesome duty. I considered her statement in silence for a while. She was right about one thing, I wasn't very talkative.
“You wanna get high?” she said.
“Nah, but don’t let me stop you,” I said.
“Cool,” she said. She went into the tiny bedroom on the other side of the wall behind the couch and came back with a very tightly rolled number and fired it up. I went over to the stove and poured hot water in my mug thereby diluting my beverage to something more like steaming dishwater and less like boiled weeds. Delish!
Linda had not been terribly keyed-up before she smoked, but she was very calm afterwards. She turned to face me on the couch and got seriously interested in me and what I was all about. Stoned she thought the most common and mundane things were “heavy.” I told her some stuff, some of it even true, figuring she wouldn’t remember much of it anyway.
After about an hour of this deep conversation Linda suddenly said, “Hey, are you hungry? Let’s go down to the BBF, OK, Willie-boy?”
“Sure,” I said. And we got our coats back on and walked a couple blocks down the street to the Burger Boy Food-O-Rama. After we filled up on burgers, fries, and milkshakes we walked back to Record Revolution where I purchased Live 'Full House' by the J. Geils Band and I’m Still in Love With You by Al Green. RecRev gave a fifty cent discount when you bought two slabs of vinyl so I always took advantage of their good nature.

Back out on the street Linda asked me to come back up to her chilly apartment right next door. It seemed like a very friendly request from a stoned young lady who had just had a good meal. I said I thought I’d rather go to the dorm and listen to my new tunes and invited her to come along. She said she thought it might be fun and so she walked down the hill with me. We got to my little room and she took her big coat off and sat on the bed in her jeans, tight beige sweater, and high fringed boots while I put on my new Al Green LP. We kissed during the six minutes of the first two tracks. Her sweater came off quite easily during track 3, “Love and Happiness” and I enjoyed her firm, bare breasts and erect nipples to the fullest of my limited ability.
By track four I was pretty certain I had never really been serious about celibacy.

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Your Time Machine Awaits

The wake-up call woke us both at 6. Jackie had to get moving much faster than I did since she was flying home from Dulles before noon. I had another meeting with the attorney and then would fly for LAX in the late afternoon. With the time difference I should get back in time to pick the kids up. I was drinking a cup of hotel room coffee while she was finishing up getting ready to leave. I leaned against the door jamb watching her brush her hair and apply her eye makeup and then lipstick. It seemed like just an hour ago that I went over to talk to her down in the hotel bar.
“Have I ever told you about my fantasy?” I said.
“Which one, I’ve lost count,” she said.
“Funny. My favorite fantasy. The one where this beautiful woman staying with me is getting ready in the morning and has a big appointment, or let’s say an airplane to catch, that she can’t be late for... she’s all ready to go, has her makeup on, her clothes are just right… she even has her sunglasses on, ready to go outside… and yet she takes the time to give me a fantastic blowjob. Of course, she has to swallow every drop since she can’t let it get on her clothes or face or in her hair, ya know… no time to change or clean up.”
“Nice try. I’ll keep that in mind for the next time I see you. Any idea when that will be?” she said.
“I don’t have any travel scheduled right now, which is rare. But I know that I’ll need to go to Nashville in about a month or so,” I said.
“A month. Hmmm… maybe I’ll just fly to California for a weekend,” she said.
“That might be awkward to explain to my kids,” I said.
“Oh yeah. A month, huh? Too bad I just learned about that last minute blowjob fantasy. Call me, OK?” she said. And we kissed. Then she was out the door.

A few hours later I was sitting in the conference room waiting for James the lawyer to show. My bags were piled in the corner and I wanted to bolt for an earlier flight. He showed up, about 15 minutes late, and got right to the pressing business at hand like I knew he would.
“I never got hold of that little blondie,” he said.
“Did you try to call her at the hotel?” I said.
Fuck yeah! You kiddin’? Tried The Mayflower, and a bunch of others too. Even called your hotel. Nobody registered by that name anywhere in town that I could find,” he said.
“That’s weird. Did you use the right name?” I said.
“I used the one you gave me. Jacqueline Hunter, right?” he said.
“That’s her name. Her married name anyway, which is what she would register with I guess,” I said.
“What other name would she use? Maybe she’s still in town.”
I hesitated for a split second. I knew she was not in town anymore so not in immediate danger of Jim finding her, but my mind was calculating what all he knew about her. Realtor... state she lived in… maybe city, I couldn’t recall if she had mentioned that in the bar, would he track her down at home? I didn’t want that.
“Sampson,” I said, “Sampson was her name before she got married. Jackie Sampson.”
The slight hesitation did me in. He stared at me.
“You are bangin’ her. Dammit, I knew it!” James said.
“Me? No, man, years ago, yeah. But, we’re just buddies now. Hell, I didn’t even know she was in town… hadn’t talked to her in a long time. It was just a coincidence that she was in the bar,”
“I don’t believe in coincidence. She just shows up in the lounge at your hotel and you don't know anything about it? Then she's completely off the grid when I try to run her down last night? Nah, you’re definitely nailin’ that. But what I can’t figure out is why you don’t want anybody to know. If I was doin’ that I’d be telling you all about it,” he said.
“I’m sure you would. But really, I’m not having an affair with her. And, I’m not too comfortable with how you’re talking about her, Jim. She’s my friend, ya know?”
“Sure. No problem. But just one more thing… you say she’s your 'friend'... and you know she’s married... and yet you still encouraged me to try to find her last night. That doesn’t seem like something a friend would do," he said.
"Jim, I know her well enough to know she isn't happy with her marriage. You seem like a good guy, ya know, I thought maybe you two would hit it off. I mean she seemed to be flirting with you. Seemed that way to me. Anyway, I'm not her brother... " I said.
He considered that for a moment. Then he must have realized there's no way I would think of him as a "good guy" because he smiled slightly and shook his head slowly.
"I think you knew I’d never find her because you gave me her married name and you know she uses her other name for business and, you really knew I wouldn’t find her ‘cause she was in your room all night,” he said, “Which is cool with me. None of my business, Wilson.”
I just looked at him, wanting to go across the table and smack the shitty smile off his face. “We need to get finished here so I can catch my flight to LAX.” I knew the motherfucker was going to use this bit of intel against me with my enemies inside the company.

When I started telling this part of my story—the part about the reunion with Jackie Sampson—I never thought it would go this long and in such detail. I’ve enjoyed the hell out of getting it down on paper—er—pixels. But, it’s time to travel back in time again about 24 and a half years from where I’m leaving off, in that law office in Washington DC. That means we’ll be going back to the second half of my sophomore year in college. Jackie and I had just broken up. I was a miserable, mopey dope. Thank God I had gotten interested in Radio-TV classes, thanks to Jill the beautiful R.A. I believe it was all that saved me that winter. After all, my history with women at this point was actually pretty ugly. Denise, my high school girlfriend and first fuck ever drifted away before college. Molly had been a less than spectacular success. Margery was an intense experience but it ended quickly, abruptly and, for me, bitterly. Diana was a blast but she had gotten herself launched right out of school, the wild little thing. Jackie had been the best thing to happen to me on the female front, but now that was done and I was then very certain I’d never see her again.

By spring I was just a total loser. I hadn’t touched a girl since the last time I had seen Jackie as she was leaving me the weekend of the Tull concert. I was pretty certain I would be celibate for the rest of my life. Aside from my interest in my classes that term, the only thing keeping me from spinning out of control was the fact that I had a single room in the suite back in the dorm. No roommate to scandalize with my masturbation addiction. I was a total slave to jacking off. I had a box a week Kleenex habit. It was better than getting dumped again, although I did worry a lot that it might cause an inability to achieve an erection without self-manipulation. A worry that was somewhat unfounded as it turned out.

As I was walking along the brick walkway angling across the main part of campus on a very cold afternoon in late March, I passed someone in an Army surplus coat and jeans going the other way. I caught a glimpse of the face and thought I knew the person but wasn’t sure so, loser that I now was, I didn’t say anything. A few seconds later I heard a voice behind me say, “Wil? Is that you, Wil?” I turned and looked. I knew the voice and what I could see of the face but couldn’t think of her name.
“It’s me, Linda. I met you through Margery about a year ago, remember?”
“Oh, Hi… Linda, how’re you doin’?” I knew instantly that I was dazzling her with my sparkling conversation skills. I was the Mayor of Loserville. No, not that exalted. I was the Deputy Vice Mayor of Loserville.

When I knew Linda the year before she, like Margery, was very, um, sorority-looking. Nice clothes, seemingly wealthy, probably destined for a good career. Now she looked like, well, she looked like a hippie chick. Jeans, big oversized olive-colored Army coat, fringy leather boots that she was wearing on the outside of her jeans. How was this the same Linda?

“I’m freezing is how I’m doing. Aren’t you? Are you going to class?” she said.
“Nah, I was going to Record Revolution. See what’s new,” I said.
“Hey, I live in the apartment right above the store next to there. How about if I blow off my class and we’ll go to my place and get some hot tea? Really, I’m freezing and I can afford to miss the class. Just needed a good excuse, and you're it. We can get caught up and then you can go to the record store,” she said.
“Sure. OK,” I said. S ee? Dazzling.

I didn’t want to talk about Margery and I didn’t want to talk about me. So I guess we’d have to talk about Linda. Maybe I’d find out why she started to wear funky clothes. I did think she was pretty attractive back when I’d see her with Margery—like that day we all went to the quarry—the last time I saw both of them I guess. Linda looked great that day. In her little two-piece swimsuit. But now she had on a coat that would fit a 225 lb Army Private. And did I mention this scarf-like thing wrapped around her head so you couldn’t even see she had hair? It really was Linda though, ‘cause sure as hell, as we walked along the sidewalk the first fuckin’ thing she says is, “Do you ever hear from Margery?”

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Let's Go To Nathan's

Jackie was very quiet. She pressed her back against me in bed facing away from me. I was wide awake but she was sleepy from the cocktails. Normally she didn’t drink alcohol, and martinis weren’t exactly the easiest way to start drinking. After about an hour of her resting and me wondering what was on ESPN I asked her, “Why were you so nervous earlier—in the bar?”
“It all started to seem so, I dunno, reckless,” she said, “Flying over to meet you in a hotel and all.”
“We met in a hotel a couple weeks ago,” I said.
“But that was on my turf. I guess I felt like I had some control that weekend. This was… is... different. Plus, everything went really well the last time. Really well… so this seemed scary, I guess.”
“Still nervous?” I asked.
“No. Not at all. But I think I need something to eat… to soak up the drinks. Know anywhere around here? I’d like to get some air, too.”
I told her I knew a good place. We got cleaned up. We got our clothes straightened up and back on. And we got ourselves about 5 or 6 blocks down the street to Nathan’s.

We didn’t eat much, but it was good to get out of the hotel for an hour or so. I was worried we’d run into James the lawyer, or somebody I worked with, but thankfully that didn’t happen. Looking at Jackie while we ate, I thought she looked every bit as good as usual but she also looked, um, freshly fucked. She had spent some time in the bathroom back at the hotel getting everything in place, but there was definitely a look to her like she’d been knocked off her axis slightly. Hard to explain, but her poise and composure wasn’t what I had seen pretty much constantly since our reunion commenced a couple of weeks ago back in the bar of her hotel. Maybe it was the drinks that had her off balance. Or those shoes.
On the short cab ride back to the hotel I asked her if she was alright. She nodded, grabbed my arm with both hands, leaned into me, kissed my cheek, and hung on tightly.
“I’ve never trusted anybody enough to let them do that,” she whispered.
“And… you liked it? Hated it? What?” I said.
“Nobody but you. Ever,” she said.
I smiled. But it also made me a little uneasy. I was flattered, but worried just a tiny bit.

Back up in the room we stood together kissing just inside the door to the room. I enjoy kissing and Jackie does also. So we did that for a while. We stood holding each other and she said, “We call each other all sorts of nasty stuff when we’re in bed, don’t we.”
“Yeah, we do,” I said.
“You don’t think of me as any of those things outside of the bedroom, do you?” she said.
“No more than you think of me as an illegitimate child,” I said.
“I almost called you a mean bastard earlier, but I remembered you pointing out that you weren’t ‘mean’. You are one rough motherfucker though,” she said. And we both laughed.
She headed off to the bathroom after grabbing her overnight bag. I stripped down again and got back into bed. It was a good twenty minutes before Jackie came out of the bathroom. She no longer looked "off her axis." She was all put together again and this time was wearing a pale, floor-length, see-through gown. If it came with matching panties she had forgotten them. She slid into bed and pressed her breasts against my chest. My hands found her ass and I held her cheeks tightly through the sheer fabric.
“Could I really get a thousand dollars?” she said.
“Actually, I was going to charge Jimmy boy two thousand. A thousand was just your share,” I said.
She bit my chest.
“Hey! That hurt!” I laughed. It didn’t leave a mark.
That really was mean. What did he say about me? Really, don’t kid about it,” she said.
“Seriously? Do you really want to know?”
“Yeah. I mean he must be pretty sophisticated… a big DC lawyer… did he really think I was attractive?” she said.
“What am I, a fucking fencepost here? Damn, Jackie! He works for me! You really should concentrate on fucking your way to the top, ya know.” I said.
“Stop it, Wil. I just want to know what a guy I’ve never met thinks about me after just meeting me. Can’t you play along with me? Please?” she said.
“Well, he spotted you sitting alone at the bar and his tongue fell out of his mouth. He pointed you out to me. At first I thought I’d go over and act like I was picking you up and leave with you just to flip him out, but I decided I’d bring you over to meet him. It was a big risk, I thought, because he might figure out that we’re ‘together’. Little did I know that the real risk was that you’d fall for the schmuck,” I said. At that she pulled her gown up from the bottom and straddled my hips. Then she put her hands on my chest, leaning forward, and said, “You know that’s not true… about me ‘falling for him’… stick to the real story.”
“OK, Jackson. So, you did a good job of making it seem like we were just old friends. And you flirted endlessly, tirelessly, and shamelessly with him right under my nose because you knew I couldn’t say anything about it without blowing our cover. And, in the back of your mind, you figured I’d pay you back for it later,” I said.
She grinned and pinched both my nipples at the same time.
“Now how would you pay me back?” she said.
“The way I did. By being a ‘rough motherfucker’… which is what you were hoping for, you little slut,” I said.
She leaned back still straddling me, put her left hand between her legs, and slid her middle finger between her pussy lips. I loved seeing her use her left hand that way.
“So when you left he wanted to know if I was fucking you and when I assured him I wasn’t… he knew from you we had gone out years ago… he asked me if it was OK if he tried to nail you. Thought he'd like a bit of that stuff.” She was working her pussy a bit faster now.
“I told him to go for it... that you were a real hot fuck and that he should get you while you were in town… I didn’t know when you were leaving so he needed to get right on it... try to get some of that prime pussy tonight. And I told him that you were a total cockhound that loved to swallow cum. Made sure he knew that you would suck him off better than the best DC hotel in-call escort. Fuck, I thought he might cum in his pants just talking about how hot you looked. Guess he likes his little tramps in too-high heels, with nice round asses and big tits.” She grabbed her right breast with her right hand through the see-through gown and started to really work her soaking wet slit with her left. Her eyes were closed and she was working on her lower lip.

“He asked where you were staying. I told him to try The Mayflower… that you had told me once you liked to go there and pick up rich older guys and fuck and suck their brains out when you’re in town. He wondered what your name was and I told him your married name, Jacqueline Hunter. Told him you were a constantly horny little cocksucker that definitely needed a big, hard, dick tonight. I’m sure he called a dozen hotels trying to find that dirty little blond slut 'Jackie Hunter' tonight.” Her hips were rolling as she pinched and tugged her nipple and buried two fingers of her left hand into her cunt—working them in and out of her like the imagined lawyer’s cock. She put her middle and index fingers in as far as she could and I could see her diamond and gold wedding ring set pressed up against her pussy lips.
“Then I told him that I wanted to hear all about it tomorrow, Jackie… wanted to hear how Jackie Hunter sucked his balls dry… how you fucked him raw… told him I wanted to hear all of it… see if you’re still the dirty little blond slut you used to be back when I was fucking you… told him to tell me all about it… told him not to leave anything out about Jackie the slut…. then he took off to fuck you and I came up here and did you in the ass-- just like you wanted…” At about that point she let go and came furiously. She gasped, groaned loudly, and then leaned way back with her hands behind her on the bed and her face towards the ceiling.

“Hey, Jackie, I’m hard now. Turn around and get on me facing the door and ride my cock.”
She got on, her pussy was so wet I slid all the way into her immediately.
“Good girl. Now I’m going to spank that ass you filthy little whore. I can’t believe you wanted that pindick attorney more than me!” She couldn’t see that I was smiling as I smacked her right cheek with my open right hand.

Monday, December 1, 2008

On To Washington

I pulled her up to her feet and took her from the love seat over to the bed in her suite. I took the robe off her and pushed her naked body onto the bed face down. I followed onto her-- still fully dressed in jeans, boots and shirt. My left hand ran up the back of her left thigh, across her firm ass, her lower back, and then I found her left breast against the crisp sheets. My right was in her hair and I got my mouth close behind her left ear.
“I wasn’t the first boy to fuck you all those years ago, was I?” I said softly.
She moved her head slightly from side to side without saying anything.
“I wasn’t the first guy you ever sucked off, was I?”
Again she moved her head from side to side.
“That titty fuck last night wasn’t your first, was it…”
“No,” she said softly.
“How many men have fucked you in the ass, Jackie?”
“Nobody,” she said.
I pulled her head back just a bit.
“Tell the truth,” I said.
“Nobody has, Wil. My first husband wanted to but I wouldn’t let him. I’ve never wanted anybody to do that. I swear,” she said.
“Some day I will,” I said.
“I want it now, baby. Please…”
“Some day. But now I want something from you,” I said.
Within a few minutes she was on her knees on the floor of her hotel suite. Her hands were behind her back, bound by the hotel robe belt, and she was working my stiff cock with her mouth. To perfection. She always was an amazing little cocksucker.


Eleven days later I had been home for one weekend with my kids and was already back out on a coast-to-coast road trip. I had to be in Washington DC for a half day of productive business and a day and a half of dealing with outside counsel. This was a Capitol Hill- connected attorney who we used in DC. It was a dreary way to spend the bulk of the week, but I had one big thing to look forward to-- Jackie was supposed to fly in on Thursday afternoon, spend the night with me in Georgetown and then fly back home on Friday. It was our first attempt at this sort of rendezvous and it all had a kind of a "top secret espionage" feel to it. As I left the hotel Thursday morning I left an envelope at the concierge desk with a room key. Jackie knew to go to the concierge and ask for the envelope when she got in from Dulles. The charming concierge took the envelope with my instructions for who was to receive it with a warm smile and a “Certainly, Mr. Wilson. Is there anything else I can take care of for you today?” I assured her there was not and went to see the attorney.

Thursday afternoon dragged on in my meeting with the lawyer. At five I must have been checking the time too often and he suggested that we continue in the bar at my hotel. The stuff he still wanted to cover wasn’t confidential—just him trying to get a feel for some company dynamics from my perspective—who was up, who was down, who was heading out the door. Mainly he wanted free drinks on my expense account. Cheap jerk. The last thing I wanted was to have him hanging at the hotel with Jacqueline coming to town but I figured that, at least, I’d be in the right building.

I rode with him to my hotel since I had cabbed over to his nearby office in the morning. We went straight to the crowded bar. We had ordered a second drink and I was trying to figure out how to dust him off when he leaned over the table and said, “Don’t look now but there is an amazing blond babe at the bar checking us out.”
When the cocktail waitress brought us our second round I took the opportunity to look at the bar. There was indeed a petite, gorgeous, blond perched up high on the end bar stool. She was in a black suit with a skirt that was hiked up a bit due to the seating arrangement and she was showing lots of exceptional leg. Black stilettos and a black, slim, leather portfolio briefcase completed the look. She had a martini in front of her. She looked like a very successful lobbyist.

I looked at the attorney, James, and said, “The petite blond on the end?” he nodded, “I know her. Want to meet her?”
I walked over to the bar alone and said, “Since when do you drink martinis?”
“Since I got to this hotel. I’m so nervous I can’t breathe.”
“Thanks for coming. I guess you’ve been to the room,” I said, smiling.
“Yes, it’s incredible. I’m feeling more relaxed already now that you’re here,” she said.

“Don’t get too relaxed just yet. I’m over at that table with our outside counsel. C’mon over and meet the guy. He’s drooling for you already.”
“I know. I saw you guys. I figured you’d find me eventually. He’s not so bad, either. Probably about fifteen years older than me. Might be kinda fun.”
“Nice, Jackson. I deserved that. By the way, that outfit is stunning. And the briefcase must have cost more than my first car,” I said.
“Nah, but I’m sure these fucking shoes did,” she said, "I figured the briefcase would make me look less like a streetwalker."

I signed her tab to the room, gave the bartender a tip, and led her to the table. It all went well enough but soon I was dying to get her to the room. She was sitting next to me and across from Jim, charming him to death. Our legs were against each other as she talked away with him and I just about couldn’t stand it—being that close to her and not getting my hands on her. After about 30 minutes Jackie announced that she needed to go—she was in town for business according to her story—and needed to meet someone for dinner. Jim offered to give her a ride but she demurred. We stood as she left, she shook hands with Jim, and then gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek saying that it was good to see me again. And then she was gone from the bar and headed past the front desk and out the main doors.

“Fuck me!” said James.
“What?” I said.
“What? That’s the hottest thing that’s come through this place all year I’m sure. Shit, Wilson, did you really used to date her?”
“Yeah, when we were just out of high school. We stayed in touch over the years, ya know, she’s been married a couple times…and was raising a kid by herself...and”

“Level with me. Are you bangin’ that?” he said.
I wanted to wring his neck, knock his head off the wall a few times, and leave him in a pool of stinking lawyer blood, but I also didn’t want him telling everybody else in the company about how worked up I got defending Jackie’s honor over some locker room talk.
“Nah, we’re just friends. I didn’t even know she was in town on business. Small world. Anyway, you know, I’m an unhappily married man!”

“So you don’t mind if I take a run at her? I mean, holy fuck, she’s steaming hot, Wil. I don’t know how you can be so cool about her,” he said.
I thought to myself that I’m being cool about her because if I can get your ass out of here I’ll be in bed with her in about 30 minutes and won’t come up for air again until 7AM. But I said, “Be my guest, James. Jackie might be up for some fun with an older guy. You never know, I’ve had my share of younger women. She’s probably staying at the Mayflower.”

"Do you think those are real?" he said.


"Do you think those are real? That rack. Fuck, I mean she can't be five-two outta those fuckin' high heels... and she's got a set on her like that. Fuck! Can you imagine what those look like?"

"I can't imagine," I said.
“What’s her name again?” James asked.
“Jacqueline. Jacqueline Hunter,” I said.

"The Mayflower ya figure?"


When I got to the suite Jackie was waiting in the living room reading a magazine.
She looked exactly the same way she did in the lounge. 100% edible.
“Hi honey. I’m home. Anything happen today?” I said as I kissed her.
“Jacqueline Sampson! You’ve been drinking!”
“I only had three martinis. Just to relax me, baby. But I may have gotten a little too relaxed… I’m not used to drinking anything.”

She stood. A little wobbly in her million dollar fuck-me shoes. I took her into the bedroom. I undressed as she stood facing me. “Did you have a rough flight, Jackie?”
“It was OK. I had a drink on the plane. I was nervous.”
“Take your suit jacket off, sweet stuff,” I said as I walked into the bathroom, “You’re not too drunk to fuck, are you?”
“Never,” she said.

“Good. Bend over and put your hands on the edge of the bed then,” I said. She hadn’t seen what I had gotten from the bathroom.
“Man that ass looks good in that skirt, Jackie Sam. Almost a shame to take it off of you.” She looked over and grinned. I stood behind her, pulled her back to standing by taking her shoulders in my hands, and then undid her skirt in the back, unzipped it, and let it drop. She had thigh highs and panties on. I took the narrow part of her panties on the right side in both of my hands and tore the thin band apart. Then they fell down her left leg easily. I pressed her between the shoulder blades and she went back down to the bed with her hands stretched in front of her.
“Good girl. Put your feet farther apart now… that's good.”

I put a huge gob of lubricant from the bottle I had brought from the bathroom on her tight, puckered asshole. I slid my right thumb inside her and rotated my hand back and forth working her opening just a bit. She moaned and pressed herself farther down into the bed. I pulled my thumb out, put lube on my middle finger and slid it into her ass. I worked it in, turning it. With my left hand I smacked her left ass cheek. “Not too drunk to fuck in the ass, are you?”
“Fuck my ass, baby,” she said.
“Don’t tell me what to do, Jackie. I’ll give you an ass fucking if I want to. Maybe I’ll have that old lawyer you were flirting with in the bar take some of it too. He’d give me a grand for a shot at you, Jackie,” I said.
“Fuck me now you nasty bastard,” she said.
“Get up on the bed, slut. On your hands and knees like a good whore,” I said.
She did what I told her to do.

Once she was up on the bed I was able to get my hard cock over her upturned ass.
I covered my shaft in lube and put more all over her loosened hole. Then I slowly, but forcefully, worked the cockhead into her. She was very tight but once the ridge got through her ring it all fit in her smoothly. She was growling and grabbing at the pillow in front of her outstretched hand.
“FFFuuuucccckkkkkk…” she yelled into the mattress as I slowly slid my entire shaft into her. Once I was completely buried in her I cracked her right ass cheek hard with my open right hand.
“Who got your ass-fuck cherry, slut?” I said.
“You did baby. Ride my ass you fuckin’ bastard.” she screamed.
I smacked her left cheek. I drew out of her slowly and then pounded my cock all the way into her ass with a quick, smooth stroke. She groaned and I did it again. Over and over and over. I fucked her ass like a young, tight pussy.

I pulled out of her after I came and spread her ass cheeks apart after she had fallen over onto her side. I watched as my thick, white cream oozed out of her red, used asshole.

“Is that what you wanted, slut?”
She moaned in the affirmative.