**Disclaimer: The following is completely fictional and it is nothing but pure fantasy
I wonder if The Beatles felt the same way when descending on America as I do now, arriving in Liverpool for the first time. The John Lennon Airport was grand in name but ordinary in stature, so far as I could tell. Everything about it screamed of a mid-sized city, not a major destination like LAX or La Guardia. But, the one perk was that a line of cabs was set up to take visitors directly to their lodging. And I hailed a ride with minimal effort.
"Where are we going today?" The cabbie spoke in a gruff, direct tone.
"The DoubleTree, please."
"Ah, so we got an American chap. Let me guess. You're here to see The Beatles or catch a Liverpool match."
"The latter, actually. What tipped you off?"
"That's all we're known for over on your side of the pond. I, myself, am an Everton supporter, but you lot cling to whoever is top of the table."
"I suppose I am just a walking stereotype then. My apologies." I stared out the side window, and our ride was silent from then on.
As we rolled down the road, I began to notice the murkiness and gothic architecture that defined the city. Each block had a history that was rare to come across outside a city like Boston in the United States.
However, there were still pockets of modernity. For instance, my hotel looked like prime real estate for guests but hardly had a historic flair. The lobby was as generic as it came for a facility of this type and class. The doors were all pristine wood. The floor was marble. It was typical. Upon approaching the front desk and asking for my room, that was where the expected became less so.
"The other guest staying in your room has already arrived and has your room key. I suggest you check in with her upstairs. She arrived only an hour before you." The attendant was polite but poignant in his reply.
As I rushed to my room, I began to ruminate on who Clint could have invited on this European getaway with me. Was it Priscilla, my wife? No, even he would have recognized that was beyond salvageable, no matter how much he valued the integrity of his couch. Surely, me sleeping on it was not so much wear and tear that he would resort to the nuclear option like this. So, then who?
Was it Cazzie? Sure, I had quite a fun night with her, but she hardly seemed one for emotional investment, and a vacation for a second encounter screamed romantic. Truthfully, Clint was not one for romance or emotion. He preferred his arrangement to be logical and straightforward. But who could be my guest for this weekend's rendezvous?
Once I knocked on the door, I saw Avery Cristy standing in the doorway, and I was speechless. Clint arranged a pornstar to meet me here? Honestly, despite being nearly half my age, I had to admit that the girl looked good, real good. Cazzie had the body of a model, but Avery was fit, not just skinny.
"You must be John," Avery welcomed me inside. "I hear you are a big fan."
Avery motioned like she was jerking me off with her hand, causing me to blush.
"I see. Clint knows what I jerk off to. That is embarrassing."
She smacks me on the shoulder playfully, "Please, I've heard way more revealing stuff from fans of mine. I am the last person you should care knows you jerk it to her regularly. I expect it, actually."
That response lingered as I took in my surroundings. There was only one bed for us, and Avery already had her luggage on the bed so she could unpack. I wheeled my bag to the other side of the bed, further from the doorway, and tossed my belongings on it.
"So, what has Clint told you about me... other than you know?"
"Just that he is your agent, you write books for a living, and you are a massive Liverpool fan."
"Interesting. He covered all the basics then."
"I suppose so. I even collected our tickets for tomorrow's game before I got here," Avery produced the tickets from the front pocket of her luggage to show me.
"Nice," I take the tickets to admire them momentarily. "So, you are just here to spend the weekend with me and watch a match?"
"That and to fuck your brains out." Avery was so nonchalant in her delivery of that news. "From what I understand, you've been out of the game for a while. Maybe it's time for a proper British snog, yeah?"
"Right now?" I can feel my heart pound with anticipation. How I had remained this calm for this long was beyond me, considering who was in my room, but that facade was slowly shattering. I had one of the best-looking women I had ever seen all to myself. If I had not just gotten blown by a hottie like Cazzie, Avery would seem less realistic, but if Clint's idea was to get my confidence back with all these women, then he was a master tactician.
Clint was owed more than a few pages of my latest manuscript, and since his income is strongly tied to my output, maybe my agent was playing the long game with all these treats. Perhaps this was all just an act of self-preservation.
"Maybe I can suck you off tonight, but I'd rather save anything more until after the game. That way, we can get to know each other better and perhaps develop some chemistry."
"Sounds ideal," I confessed.
"You know, if you want to add a bit of an edge to it, I ordered room service. Maybe we can see if I can finish you off before it arrives, interested?"
My head nods before I can even think to make it do that. Baser instincts are taking over as I look at this porn star princess before me. Avery baits me with her finger, luring me to the armchair by the door. I sit like a king with his devoted subject bowing before him.
"Before I get to it, I was just wondering if you prefer cumming in my mouth or all over my face?"
"How often does a guy get an offer like that? It's usually spit or swallow if anything."
"In my line of work, I get it down my throat and on my face often."
"Well, I have never nutted on someone's face, so I might as well take this opportunity."
"Good choice, babe." Avery beams at me from her kneeling position.
Her hands go to my crotch just like Cazzie's did mere days earlier. Except, Avery handles my belt and unbuttons my pants with more precision. Then she takes my zipper between her teeth and unzips my fly. By this point, a visible bulge protrudes from underneath my pants, bursting out when my fly comes undone.
Avery grabs my pants on either side of my hips and then commands, "Lift up, hun." As I balance myself on my forearms, she shimmies my pants down my legs and yanks my boxers down to my ankles. My cock comes out and slaps her clear across the face, semi-hard.
Avery cannot help but giggle as I sit back down in the chair. She handles my dick, moving it to either side of her eyeliner so she can take in its dimensions. "Not bad. It's pretty big for a non-porn star."
"Really?" I know that came across as skeptical.
"Before I got into the industry, I did have sex, you know." Avery had a certain twinkle in her eye as she explained. "And you, sir, are above average."
Her hands gripped my dick and began to twist in different directions as her palms glided straight up my shaft repeatedly. Avery peered into my soul while doing this. It was like she was the embodiment of desire, of lust. There was even this edge, this joviality in her smile, the way her eyes glimmer, and the dimples of her cheeks. This was not someone who had sex out of duty or love for their partner. Avery was a girl that fucked for the fun of it.
Sure enough, I went from a dull chub to rigid erectness after a few screwdriver pumps. Avery put the tip of my penis on her tongue as she opened up wide for me. Then her lips sealed around my bellend, and I could feel her tongue flick the underside of my dick before swirling around the tip, sending shockwaves of pleasure up my spine.
Avery paused her assault, "Tap me on the shoulder before you are ready to nut so I know to pull off you to get my facial."
She dives back between my legs, suctioning her mouth around my shaft. One of her hands cups my balls, gently massaging them, while the other twists around the end of my cock, synchronizing with her bobbing head. My penis is continuously stimulated from top to bottom, sending more shivers throughout my body. As bliss radiates, I feel something bubbling up from my balls. My dick twitches just as Avery takes me down her throat. Her lips touch my skin because she gets my penis down her throat. My shaft has vanished before my eyes like a magic trick. Avery would be a proper sword swallower.
At that moment, I start to tap furiously. My finish line is in sight. Avery pulls up and off me, gasping for air, out of breath. "You ready, baby?"
My cock is soaked in her saliva as her hand grabs me and maneuvers up and down repeatedly. With that, I spurt, hitting her right cheek. Avery shuts her eyes as I continue to fire shot after shot all over her gorgeous face. She cannot help but smile from ear to ear as laughter tears through her.
I finally finished after firing seven shots all over her. And I could feel my cock deflating as Avery cleaned off the tiny bit of semen left on my tip. "You came so much. You must have enjoyed that."
I grunted in approval. Then there was a knock at the door. "Seems like we came in just under the wire with your blowjob."
Avery enthusiastically stood up, but instead of going to the bathroom to clean up, she opened the door with my cum still coating her face and my pants around my ankles. The hotel employee's face went from blank to surprise in real-time.
"Right this way," Avery flung the door wide so the food could be carted in. "Avery took a few pounds out of her pocket and handed it to the attendant. "Thank ya very much."
The man just nodded shyly and hurried out. Avery slammed the door shut and then pivoted toward me. "God, I love when I make guys squirm like that."
She sauntered into the bathroom after that remark. As the faucet ran, I peeked at what she ordered. Grilled salmon, a salad, and a bottle of wine. I understood how she kept that body taut and defined.
The rest of the night was rather uneventful. And not long after dinner, we turned in for the night. When I awoke, Avery pulled up skin-tight black joggers that showed off her ass. She wore white sneakers and a Liverpool jersey with no name on the back.
"Where did you get the top?"
"When I heard about this job, I picked up the proper attire."