Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Just What She Asked For

Denise worked that wine bottle several inches into her wet slit. Once it was in as far as she desired she used her other hand to work her pussy. Three fingers flat against her clit. Circularly, slowly, then faster, and finally furiously, her fingertips went at it until she gasped and fell back. It lasted quite a while and was a damn good show. I sat still in my bedside seat for the entire episode and my mind never wandered. I never even felt the urge to get up and look for refreshments. As she was stretched out on her back getting her breath I told her of my positive review of the performance.

“I can’t believe you made me do that,” she said.
“I didn’t make you do anything and you know it, Denise.”
I took the bottle from the bed and tossed it in the trash next to the bed in the motel room.
“You haven’t even taken your clothes off, Wil. Get undressed and come fuck me,” she said.
“I don’t need to get undressed for that, Denise. Don’t be silly.”
I stepped over to the bed.
“Roll over on your stomach,” I said.
She did just that and put her arms straight out like she was reaching across the bed as I got her by the ankles and jerked her towards the edge of the bed.
I ran both of my hands over her round, pale bottom.
She wiggled her ass a little as she pushed it up a couple of inches.
“Oh, that’s so cute, slut," I said with a chuckle.

"Now put your feet on the floor and get that sweet, fucking ass up in the air.”
She did as she was instructed.
Her bottom was bare, white and full.
I gave her a solid open-hand smack on the right cheek and she jumped forward with a shout.
“Hold still!” I said.
The left cheek got the same treatment. This time she didn’t jump.
After a half dozen more hard slaps on each side her ass was bright red.
“Is that why you put your cute ass up in the air, slut?”
“I thought you were gonna fuck your whore,” she said.
“I am. Soon enough.”

She took about a dozen more open-hand smacks and then I had her sit on the edge of the bed. She looked up and I got my left hand into her hair and tilted her head towards the ceiling. With my right I cradled her left breast and bounced it in my hand a few times. Then I gave her a glancing blow from below across the nipple, I grabbed her tit again and rubbed it and kneaded it roughly. Then a quick slap from the side. A few more followed. Her pale skin grew pink. I switched sides and gave her the same rough treatment on the other breast. Soon her tits were as red as her ass.

“You said you wanted it rough tonight, right whore?”
“Yes. Please.”
“That's a good girl. Unzip me,” I said.
She pulled my cock out and started to bring her lips to it. I gave her a quick pop on her face—not hard. She looked up.
“I didn’t tell you to suck my cock,” I said.
“May I?”
“No. Just open your filthy slut mouth,” I said.
She opened it wide. I got her by the hair with both hands and started to work my cock in and out of her mouth. As the pace picked up I went deeper until she was choking on each thrust. When I heard that guttural sound I held it deep in her throat with each stroke. When I’d finally pull back she’d gasp and drool each time.
“Ever had a face fucking, slut?”
She moved her head from side to side slightly.
“You wanted it nasty tonight, right?”
She nodded slightly. I laughed and went on fucking her pretty mouth like a soaking wet cunt.
Finally I got bored and wanted something else to do. I pulled out of her face completely.
Denise sat on the bed, catching her breath.
Then she looked at me, “More please.”

I laughed and pushed her down onto the floor of the motel room.
“You really are a dirty little whore. Get down on your knees and suck me.”
She undid my belt, undid the button and opened my pants up.
“Mmmm I love that dick soooo much,” Denise said. She ran her lips and tongue up and down my shaft. She got her face between my legs and took my balls in her mouth as she stroked my cock. I noticed that she still liked to wear lots of rings and bracelets. The last time we’d fucked, twenty years earlier, her rings were all handcrafted. Now she had more expensive jewelry. I probably wouldn’t have noticed except for the fact that I had no urge to cum so I was able to pay close attention to what was going on. She was always a good cocksucker but she was on fire this time.

Denise really got into her night as an interstate motel whore. She became very vocal. She talked about dick sucking while she was going at it. She told me how much she wanted that cock in her cunt. I think she enjoyed the fact that she could be a total whore without any judgement. I took my clothes off, put her on her back and drove into her pussy. I rode her for as long as I could. I pulled out and stood up. I had her get to the edge of the bed and I cock whipped her face. Slapping her face with my hard dick pushed my button and I felt it in my thighs, groin, and nuts.

I told her it was coming.

She begged for it on her face.

I shot a thick load on her.

She cleaned it off with her fingers and swallowed all of it.

Later, holding onto me in bed, she told me how much she liked having her ass spanked. And her titties roughed up. And her face fucked. She seemed sincere when she said it was everything she wanted that night to be. I allowed as how I'd found it well worth the drive as well.

At about 4:30AM the alarm went off. Denise needed to get to the university before 8. I got dressed while she showered—figuring I’d drive back to Chicago and shower at my hotel before going out to O’Hare for my flight to LAX. I drank a cup of bad in-room coffee and then watched Denise get dressed. We hugged. And off we went.

Over the years we tried to get together again. Something always came up and made it impossible. Frankly, when I was looking for road sex during those years I opted for having Jackie or Janey fly in if possible. But Denise and I stayed in touch. Then about three and a half years ago she e-mailed me to tell me she was getting married. (Third times the charm?) I told her how happy I was for her and her son. She sent some pictures and they looked happy together. After her marriage I heard from her a couple times—innocuous e-mails just catching up on common friends and family. This past winter when I had some very sad news about someone Denise knew I sent her an e-mail.

I never heard anything back.
Perhaps her e-mail had changed.
Maybe I’ll hear from her again if this marriage doesn’t work better than the first two. I hope not because I really want her and her son to be happy. Meanwhile, no matter the decade, Denise and I have always had fun with each other.