Led

Charlie glanced at the blonde sitting at the bar. Her long fingers toyed with the wine goblet that was sitting in front of her. He couldn't help but notice their length, long and well kept. The polish was a brilliant red; her right hand bore no "cheater's ring" nor did she sport the gold band that would have been a deal breaker from the get go. Her hair flowed down her back like gold silk; the strands were thick, wavy, and ended in soft curls that skated across her buttocks. The dress she wore was green, a soft emerald shade. She tucked a loose curl behind her ear and laughed at something the bartender had told her. There were emeralds dangling from her ears, and with the slight tilt of her head, Charlie was able to see a gold chain dripping across her neck. He wondered if her necklace's pendant matched her earrings.

Another woman approached the bar, tapped the girl on the shoulder and the two embraced. This girl was just as lovely as the first, but Charlie was already lost in the beauty of the petite blonde. He hadn't seen her come in; he'd been preoccupied with a business call; now though, he was very much intrigued more so when she'd risen to greet her friend. She was stunning, and that word seemed too cheap to use. Besides the long blonde hair and the promising fingers, that could warm any man's cock, she was trim without being waifish or chunky. Her ass was round and looked firm. He could already imagine coming in from behind, grabbing both cheeks, spreading her open and shoving his cock deep into her eager hole. Charlie's hand slipped down under the table. He made a slight adjustment to his crotch before taking another drink from his beer.

She was tall, granted the stilettos she wore added several inches, to her already endless legs, but they only added to her appeal. The shoes matched her dress; she wore nude colored stockings. The image of him easing the hosiery down her legs made his cock jerk again. Yes, they'd have a lot of fun together. Her long legs wrapped around his waist as he plunged in and out of her. Charlie's palms itched and he'd not even gotten to really study her breasts, until she pulled away from her friend's embrace. "Fuck," he muttered.

were perfect. He saw himself cupping them and lowering his mouth to their rosy peeks. The areolas would be taut, the points hard and eager for his attention. His mouth watered. Her boobs looked like something handpicked by God Himself. Charlie was going to have to work hard on this blonde bombshell, because he wasn't the only man noticing her, several already had been ogling her like the last piece of meat at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

He downed his beer, pushed away from the table and headed toward the two women. He ran his gaze quickly over her friend, a simple looking brunette, freckled, large chest, big ass, her waist was fuller than her friend's - much fuller, but her smile was nice, and she had a pretty face -- but she was no looker, not like the one who had captured every eye in the room. Immediately Charlie knew the angle in which he would go in order to land the blonde babe.

"Excuse me," he said, his bright smile and handsome eyes settled on the short brunette. "I couldn't help but notice when you walked in that you remind me of someone I met; you wouldn't happen to be Shelly from the café on Broadway, would you?" Charlie felt the blonde's eyes on him; he fought the urge to look at her. The brunette blushed, grinned, and showed off her slightly imperfect smile. He smiled back.

"No, I'm Tonya and I don't know who you're speaking of."

Charlie's expression looked crestfallen. "Too bad, you really look just like her, and I was hoping to ask her to dinner."

"Well, Tonya's free," the blonde said, before hooking her arm around Charlie's arm and pressing herself against him.

Charlie's cock jumped. Again, he refused to look on the woman of his dreams. His gaze held Tonya's. She had brown eyes, and her make-up was light, enhancing her natural beauty. She was fair to passing and had it not been for his cock wanting the chance to slide between the other woman's tits, he could give Tonya a go at pleasing him. But his strategy was going to work; he knew it. "Are you," he asked Tonya, "free?"

She blushed again, and the blonde laughed. He felt her hand slide over his chest. "Of course she is. Why don't you join us," she offered.

"Yeah, um -- what's your name?" Tonya asked.

Charlie chuckled. "Sorry, I'm Charlie." He disentangled himself from the blonde and took Tonya's hand in his. He led the two women to a corner table, helped Tonya into her seat and claimed the one next to her as his own. The blonde was left to her own devices. He felt the stabbing daggers of her eyes boring into him. She muttered a low curse, grabbed a chair from a nearby table and dragged it over to Tonya and him. He wasn't shocked, but rather aroused when she purposely set her chair on the other side of his. When she sat down, he also wasn't surprised when her long thigh pressed welcoming against his tailored slacks. Yes -- this was going to work, and he was going to reap the rewards.

He spent the night conversing with Tonya and only learned the other woman's name because he had allowed Tonya to give it. Heather. It was a perfect name, a beautiful one that was easy on the tongue and if said just right, he could brush her sex with a puff of air as he whispered it against her slick opening - Heather. He knew her eye color now. They were blue, as blue as the Florida Keys. He could drown in them. Charlie worked hard to give her just enough attention to make her stay put, and to keep her pressed to him. He couldn't help but see Tonya glance back and forth between them. A part of him felt bad for using her, but he wasn't looking for a lifelong companion. He was looking to score. Tonya was marriage material; Heather was fuckable material.

"I'll be right back," Tonya said, "a quick trip to the ladies room is in order." He watched her stare down at Heather. The silent communication passed between the two women. Charlie knew Tonya wanted Heather to go with her to the bathroom, but he also knew Heather had no intention of leaving his side. She was going to try and get his attentions while her friend was away. The long sigh from Tonya's lips told him she was giving up. She walked away; he watched her plump ass move through the club until she disappeared into the ladies room.

"I know what you're doing," Heather whispered against his ear. Her hand settled on his thigh and moved upward to press against his crotch.

Charlie turned toward her. "What am I doing?" he asked; his gaze and thoughts were focused entirely on Heather. He watched her tongue slide across her lips. One hand moved to cover hers. He shoved her palm down the full length of his erection.

"You're making me jealous and you know it," she said. Her breath brushed his ear lobe. "You know perfectly well she's not what you want." Heather took his other hand from his beer and laid it on her right tit. "So when are you going to take me home and fuck my brains out?" she asked before tugging on his ear lobe with her perfect teeth.

"Does Tonya have a ride home?" He asked, surprising himself at that small bit of concern.

"She drove here. I'm the one needing the ride."

Charlie chuckled. "I bet you are. She's gonna be hurt? Doesn't that bother you? I mean, I don't know her; she's your friend, and I'm just another jerk in a bar."

Heather shrugged her shoulders. "She'll survive. She's used to it."

He felt a twinge of guilt and wondered how often a man like him had used the same ploy on the two women. But really, if Heather were speaking the truth and this had happened before, then isn't it Tonya's fault just as much as his and Heather's? Tonya had a friend that was way out of her league.

He pulled his wallet from the table, motioned to the server they were leaving and tossed several bills down, before sliding his chair back and taking Heather's hand in his. "Let's go," he said; all thoughts of Tonya were dismissed and the dream of fucking Heather began to take his breath away.

His hand slipped to her waist and then down to her butt. He felt the soft material of her dress and was about to pinch the firm cheek, when her hand slid down and took his palm placing back on her hip. "Soon baby," she said with a wink. His cock twitched at the firm tone of her voice.

Charlie opened the door to his car, waited for Heather to take a seat and then leaned in to grab her seatbelt and buckle her in. He breathed deep her perfume. "Mm...nice," he told her before pressing a soft kiss to her lips. His gaze dipped down and he noted the small hint of red tinged flesh. "A tat?" he asked, trailing one finger across the edge of her dress's bodice.

Heather giggled. "All the boys like them," she winked, stroked his cheek and kissed him again. Their tongues danced softly before Charlie pulled away. He grinned, closed the door and walked around the car. He opened his and looked up. Tonya stood outside, her keys in her hand. Her eyes held his for a moment. The look on her face told him what he already knew, Heather hadn't lied. Tonya had known what was coming all along. He lifted his brows, shrugged his head to one side and knew his attitude spoke volumes. He was an ass; Tonya was better off without him or Heather. He slid into the car, and drove away.

It took several minutes before the image of Tonya staring back at him cleared his mind. The guilt was heavy, but again he wasn't looking for a wife, he was looking for a fuck. "My place, or yours?" he asked Heather.

"Yours," she told him. Her hand slid over his thigh and up the hard muscle. He grinned, opened his legs and felt her palm glide further toward his growing erection. Her fingers played with the button of his slacks, and then the zipper. Experienced fingers, soft skin, and long nails wrapped around his throbbing shaft. He heard the release of her seat belt and groaned in satisfaction.

As he drove he flicked the lever of the steering column and it lifted up two inches. He let one hand drop and rested his arm on the back of Heather's seat. "Nice," she whispered, before leaning over and pushing his cock between her lips.

"Fuck yes," Charlie muttered. He watched the road, lowered his speed, and enjoyed the rhythm of Heather sucking his cock. He felt her tongue slide up and down the shaft. She bobbed up, stroked the head, and then drove back down again. As she worked his cock like a pro, Charlie had one thought, he was using a condom. He chuckled at himself, before moving his hand from her seat to the back of her long blonde tresses. "You're so fucking good," he sighed, "unreal." His callus fingers tangled with the curls; he petted her back, ran his hand down her ass over the silk and the firm cheeks. He touched the hem of her dress and eased his fingers under the slippery material. He felt the edge of her stockings. Garters and stockings -- stilettos and legs that gone on forever -- her tits he couldn't wait to see -- her eyes were like sapphires - her hair flowed like honey. Charlie was in heaven.

He felt the tightening in his balls and knew he was going to cum. "Heather, careful or you're going to have a full belly."

She pulled off his dick; her lipstick was smudged, saliva coated her chin. "I swallow," she said, before taking him back into her hot mouth.

"Perfect," Charlie gasped as she sucked him and rolled her fingers around the base of his shaft. He unloaded a thick stream of white milk into her throat. He felt her grip his rod, and another spurt showered her cheeks and tongue. When she came off him, he felt her lick around the length, suckle the head and then push his dick back into his slacks. She came up, opened her mouth and showed him the evidence of his arousal. She winked, tilted her head back and swallowed it. He watched her throat as the muscles moved the salty liquid down into her stomach.

"I'm gonna fuck you senseless," he promised. She giggled and secured herself back into her seat.

They reached his apartment five minutes later. His cock was slowly hardening again, but he knew he had to taste her sweetness before he plunged her eager pussy. When he ushered her inside his home, he locked the door behind them and pressed her to the wall. His eyes closed; he pushed his fingers into her hair, and grinned when she moaned and kissed him hard against his lips. As their tongues feasted on each other, he dragged his hands down into her thick heavy curls. They began tangled; he apologized, but kept kissing her and tasting the seeds she'd swallowed earlier.

One hand left her hair, the other moved to the side of her dress. The zipper slid easily down and opened like a flimsy curtain. He lowered both his hands, and peeled off his shirt, kicked off his shoes and went to the top of his slacks to push them down. He paused as she eased off her dress. Charlie stepped back. His eyes bugged slightly as he looked at the woman who was aroused and needy with desire. She wore a green strapless bra, and as he stared at her, he watched her hands glide up her spanx covered ribcage. Heather pulled the left silicone breast insert out, then the right. He rubbed his eyes and looked harder at the tattoo that he had gotten a hint at. It was flaking slightly and there were obvious discoloration and blurs. "Is that one of those lick and stick tattoos?" he asked.

Heather giggled. "Yeah, I'm not brave enough to actually get one. You like?" she asked and traced the tiny heart with her fingernail.

Charlie looked back at her and winced. "Um, your -- um -- hair is..."

Heather paled, and shoved both hands to the side of her hair. "Oh fuck," she cursed. Her shoulders slumped. He watched stunned as she lifted all of the curls from her head and exposed a flattened top of brown hair and bobby pins that held back her bangs. She shrugged her shoulders and laid the wig on the table near the door. The pins soon accompanied the hair and she ran her fingers through her natural locks. They fluffed up and curled slightly, but were much short than Charlie found appealing. "Damn," she muttered, and looked at one of her hands.

He glanced up and saw two of her fingernails had twisted abnormally. She tugged them both off and put them on his table. Charlie's stomach lurched slightly at the broken acrylic nails. He had taken in the rest of her underclothes as she worked with her wings. The spanx she wore were nude in color; they started just under her bra, covered her ribs, torso, hips, ass, as well as the top of her thighs. She wore garters; the elastic poked out from the bottom of the spanks, they held her stockings up and he gazed down the length of her legs.

"You have beautiful legs," he told her, before his eyes traveled back up her length. He found himself studying her hips. The spanx looked to be slightly off in color. It wasn't until he was ready to accept that she was probably a little softer than he'd expected that he realized she was wearing some sort of panty over her shapewear.

"I'm glad you like," she told him, "do you mind?" she asked and turned around. His jaw dropped as he stared at her ass. The underwear was not underwear at all; it resembled it, but only in the front. In the back, Charlie stared down at two round firm ass cheeks. "Butt pads," Heather said and giggled softly. "I just bought them tonight and wanted to try them out. You were quick, so I knew I had made a great buy!"

"Um... uh... yeah, great," he answered.

"Hey babe, do you mind unhooking my bra?"

Charlie reached out and quickly unsnapped the hook. His eyes remained glued to the faux derriere, until Heather turned around. "You've still got your pants on sweetie," she cooed, before sliding her bra off. He choked on words that could not be spoken. His gaze went to her breasts. They were small, much smaller and he understood why she chose to wear the bra inserts. He reached out and caressed the flesh. She leaned into him. There were no scars to mar her flesh so he knew she hadn't suffered from cancer. "Why the inserts?" he asked, as he tried to ignore the image of her butt pads that kept coming back into his fantasy.

Heather moaned softly. "Oh, they're just so convenient. Besides I wouldn't get real implants. Those are so fake!" She reached up and teased her nipples. "These puppies are real. I'm all for being true to one's self."

Her hands moved to his pants and she tugged them down. "Um...sure," he said, "we certainly wouldn't wake to be fake, would we?" he asked. Heather missed his sarcastic tone; he wasn't surprised.

Charlie stepped out of his slacks. His erection was nil. His dick hung limp to the left, and his balls felt heavier than normal. "Oh, you need some work, don't you baby?" Heather whispered, and stepped away from the door. She wrapped her hand around his cock and began to stroke him. His cock slowly began to stiffen and Charlie felt his body respond to her ministrations. He closed his eyes, recalled how good her mouth had felt on his stiff tool. He could do this; he pushed away the disappointment in her hair, chest, tattoo, and ass and as long as he didn't look down at her hand, he wouldn't see the broken fingernails.

He let his hands rest on her shoulders; he encouraged her down to her knees, but was surprised at her resistance. His lids rose and he looked at her face. "Oh no baby, not yet, it's my turn," she told him and walked over to his couch. She stood in front of it. Her hands moved to her hips. "Come over here and undress your present."

The spanx, the faux ass, the garters, stockings and stilettos still hugged her frame. Charlie gulped, and walked over to begin opening his gift; he dropped to his knees and eyed the waist band of her butt pad underwear. His callused fingers caught on the material as he tugged gently on the form-fitting lingerie -- a term used loosely. Once the seal of the two figure shaping materials were broken the underwear slid easily down her form. A soft thump caught his attention. He noted out of the corner of his eye one of the inserted butt pads had flung out. "Oh fuck," he moaned.

Heather grinned and said, "I'm glad you like."

Charlie looked up at her and smiled an uneasy smile. He let the padded undies fall to the floor. He reached up and hooked her spanx and peeled them off of her. The seams left small indentations in her flesh, as the soft folds that had been tucked away were let free. He gazed up at her and felt his breath quicken. "Finally," he whispered. She was actually more appealing with the soft curves that the hugging material had kept hidden, but still her perfection was permanently flawed in his eyes. Charlie knew he was an ass, but he had never been false with Heather. It was pretty obvious to her at the beginning of the evening that he was only baiting her with his fake adoration of her friend.

He removed her shoes, and released the clasps of her garters. Soon the matching belt was discarded and his fingers were sliding down her stocking clad legs and slowly peeling the silky nylon down her thigh. He kissed the flesh, licked his way to her hip and grinned when he spotted a small black mole. "Very nice," he told her and slid his lips over to kiss the tiny mark. His attention went back to her other leg; he eased the stocking down and kissed it with the same passion as he had its twin. He tickled the back of her legs and felt her playfully swat at his shoulders. When he licked his way back to her hips, he again kissed her mole. He stared at it for a moment, shrugged his shoulders and hooked her emerald thong. Her pussy was exposed to him. The flesh was smooth, free of curls that he knew would have been brown not blonde.

Charlie looked up and pressed one finger against her pussy. She opened her legs and he slipped the thick digit into her hole. Heather moaned softly and stepped back. He continued to slide his finger in and out of her sex, while she lowered herself to the couch. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips. He pushed a second finger in as she got comfortable. Walking on his knees, he rested against the couch, opened her lips and lowered his mouth to her mound.