Good News Bad News

So, the doctor walks into the room of his patient and tells him, "Mr. Johnson, I've reviewed your chart and I have some good news and some bad news for you."

Mr. Johnson replies to the doc, "I can take the bad news, Doc, give it to me first."

The doctor looks at him gravely and says, "Your prognosis has taken a significant turn for the worst and we now give you two weeks to live, tops."

Stunned, the patient asks in a quivering voice, "Well, whatever could the good news be, Doctor?"

The doctor points to a shapely nurse bending over the medicine cart, winks at the patient and smiles while whispering, "See that hot nurse over there? Well, I'm fuckin' her."

That's kinda the way it goes with on-line dating, you get some good news and some bad news.

On this particular occasion, as I watched the comely silhouette in the open raincoat approach me, I saw a long, thin mini-skirt-clad pair of legs between the open buttons of the raincoat. My immediate thought was that these might just be the hottest pair of gams that I had ever seen. I mean, she looked cute in her on-line photos, but jeezus, talk about an unexpected upgrade. As she got closer, I inspected more diligently and approved the entire package unilaterally. Five-feet-four, long honey-brown-hair with a farmer's daughter's/Polly Purebred face. Oh, and did I mention those legs?

"Hi, you must be John, I'm Linda, nice to meet you," she said happily, extending her right hand, while the other flipped her honey-brown hair off of her forehead, her coat opening even more to expose a very nice chest as well, tightly covered in a light green blouse, taut nipples peeking beneath the thin cotton fabric holding up her firm, pert tits.

Good news, definitely good news.

I led Linda to our table in the bar where we had planned a cocktail before walking over to the Hibachi restaurant down the block where we held a dinner reservation, thanking Al Gore and the good people from snatch.com and match.cum and whoever else was responsible for Internet dating. When she took off her raincoat before easing into the plush leather seat, her impossibly sexy black skirt rising almost to her crotch, a young waiter dropped a tray of utensils, admiring perhaps the hottest forty-three-year-old divorced mother of four he had ever seen.

"You must get that a lot, rendering men onto their hands and knees, into jelly," I said, indicating the young man sheepishly cleaning up his spill while trying not to peek up her skirt.

Linda looked at me, seemingly genuinely unaware that it was she who had caused the one-tray accident. "What do you mean?" Her blue eyes blinked quizzically.

I peered back at her, trying to gauge her sincerity. Was she a cock-tease, or simply blissfully naive of her own beauty? I decided not to mince words. "Linda, I like to think I'm a keen observer and talented judge of a woman's charms, and if you don't mind me saying, you have, without question, the best pair of legs in the sexiest miniskirt I have ever seen." I then nodded to the embarrassed young man scurrying to the kitchen, still dropping forks and spoons. "Something tells me he agrees with me, also."

She blushed at me seductively. "Thank you, I wanted to make an impression on you. I have a good intuition about you, even though we only starting chatting a few days ago. I've recently been in a bad situation, and well, I wanted to feel especially sexy tonight. I'm glad you're appreciative, it certainly looks as though you are, anyway." She giggled while glancing down to the impossible-not-to-notice bulge in my khakis, and her eyes lingered there for a few long seconds, admiring the view of her own. "It, um, looks like you have a pretty nice leg of your own, if you don't mind ME saying."

This was very good news.

Somehow we made it through our pre-dinner drink without me drooling into my amaretto, and as I helped her on with her coat before making the short walk to our restaurant, she leaned her body backwards just enough so that my lap cradled against her buttcheeks, which felt like the proverbial buns of steel, even through the coat's material. As she wriggled into the coat, her lower torso wiggled back and forth against my pelvis.

We walked arm-in-arm for a block in the slight drizzle (an omen, being wet?), and my cock stayed as hard as trying to interpret the dialect of a Japanese hostess who greeted us at the restaurant's vestibule.

"Hi," I said to the woman in the kimono. "Seven-thirty reservation for two for Ellis for the upstairs table, please." I couldn't help but notice that she had on one of those things that traditional Japanese women used to apparently wear in their hair, a fashion that is now only embraced by hostesses at Hibachi restaurants in New Jersey. Best way I can describe it would be to say it looked like a Brontosaurus bone from the Flintstones or the dinosaur exhibit at the Academy of Natural Sciences.

"Ah, res, leven-thilty levelvation for Erris for up-stayl," she repeated flawlessly. Well, almost flawlessly. She eyed Linda up and down, her eyes gazing at her skirt with a combination of envy and womanly appreciation. The hostess then turned to me, smiling, showing off her yellow and crooked teeth, and nodded enthusiastically. "Your rady velly bootyful. You rucky man." She then shouted maniacally towards the second floor in Japanese, and the "Erris" party was soon seated at the large square table with several other couples and one family whose daddy leered at Linda unabashedly when he saw her enter the room, a reaction which did not go unnoticed by the mommy, who elbowed him wickedly in the ribs.

Despite the public seating arrangement, the large ledge around the grill did serve to obscure any view below the table, and Linda's legs and my own rubbed teasingly against the others as we enjoyed one delicious course after the next. By the time the entertaining chef was expertly popping shrimp into our open mouths from ten paces with his ginzu knife, Linda's manicured fingers were caressing my thigh and my own hand snuck under the ever-rising hem of her skirt so that the back of my palm now rested on the mound of her steaming pussy, which felt every bit as sizzling as the Hibachi.

I ate left-handed for most of the meal so that I could tease and tantalize Linda's delectable female sushi to my right, starting to ooze juices with a slight musky aroma that mixed intoxicatingly with the food. When I turned my hand so that my finger finally grazed over her silk-covered clit, Linda gasped audibly, causing some stares from the other patrons of the table, but she dug her nails into my forearm and embraced my arm with both hands and groaned, "Oh, my God, this is soooo good, isn't it?" She uttered it convincingly enough to not raise undue suspicion.

For the duration of the meal, I continued to rub my thumb and index fingers in excruciatingly slow circles over her the top of her engorged nub, and her face turned the shade of crimson as she shuddered repeatedly as I would bring her to the edge and then trail off, again and again and again.

Linda excused herself towards the end of the meal to 'freshen up' as the other patrons paid their tab. Daddy lingered for longer than he needed to and attempted to make some small talk with me, no doubt hoping for one last leer at Linda, but Mommy ushered him away, literally pulling him through the curtains. When Linda returned, our room was empty except for one young girl cleaning up the residue of the meals, as I had already settled the bill.

Seemingly oblivious to the girl, or perhaps emboldened because we did have an audience, Linda returned to the room, pulled the curtain tightly closed behind her, and plopped herself down right on my chair, facing me, legs spread, straddling my lap, and pulled the back of my skull towards her face rather roughly, and snaked her soft, wet, warm tongue into my mouth. She began to bounce up and down in a soft yet forceful rhythm on my lap, and I became aware of the young Asian girl's increasingly rapid breathing as she had a bird's-eye view to this impromptu, spontaneous sensual dessert.

Linda released her tongue from my own reluctantly, bringing her lips to my ear lobe, biting it, and whispered, "You have me so hot, here's a present for you." I hadn't noticed that she had something curled into her fist when she had re-entered the room. She uncurled the ball of her fist and I saw her gift, a chocolate brown silk thong, and she placed it gently into my palm. I could discernibly feel the precipitation on the material.

The embarrassed yet aroused youngster left the room giggling when she saw the underwear, as Linda continued her vertical ascent and descent on my pelvis, now licking my neck. "They were so wet, I couldn't wear them anymore." She sat so that her perfectly shaped nipples were now brushing against the tip of my nose. "Let's go dancing now at Havana, that club across the river. I hear it's "No Panty" night, and I want to be dressed appropriately for the occasion. Ready?"

We made the short walk back to my car, the thong in my pocket, exchanging increasingly daring kisses along the way, until we stopped in front of the passenger side door and initiated a game of full-body tag in the cloak of curbside darkness, the threat of being observed by passersby only causing our desire to heighten.

Linda pressed her nubile body against mine, I dry-humped her, my cock grinding into her crotch. I could feel the steamy humidity below the hemline. I began to grope and pinch her nipples as her tiny hands caressed my throbbing bulge through my zipper. (There's just something about a tiny-fisted handjob that's aces, but I digress.) I let my hand wander under her skirt and ran my palms along her smooth, firm buttocks as she purred in contentment as her stroking now continued down to my heavy balls, lifting them in her hands. She lifted her long left leg and wrapped it around my hip, grinding into me frantically, and my other hand reached under her blouse and found the clip of her bra between her soft breasts and I unsnapped it gently. She moaned, collapsing further into my arms. I sucked on her earlobe as I wiggled the straps off of her shoulder blades as she began to assist my efforts to rid her of those pesky and unwanted accessory items.

I whispered in her ear as her bra cascaded down to her waist, and together we lifted her blouse and pulled it from the waistband of her skirt. "It's also 'No Bra" night on the dance floor, haven't you heard? We wouldn't want to buck tradition, now, would we, Linda?"

The bra and the thong ended up on my rear view mirror as we made the short ride over to the night club.

There's not much of a greater turn-on for a guy than to escort the hottest woman in the club onto the dance floor, especially when her nipples are protruding through her blouse like runaway pearls and her tight skirt is cut up to her gooey. The bouncer waived our cover charge, undoubtedly thinking that the ogling of Linda was more than sufficient to trade for any entrance stipend.

Once on the dance floor, Linda quickly became the focus of a large majority of the male audience hovering around the perimeter of the floor and from the balcony above. The 70's-style strobe light served as spotlights, seeming to trace laser-like beams directly onto her continually hardening nipples. Her braless and unencumbered tits jumped cavalierly under the blouse, and all of the guys' eyes followed like a mesmerized kitten watching a ping-pong ball bounce up and down, up and down. Her buttcheeks wiggled wildly beneath her dress like a catfish caught in a net, and I stepped back for a second to admire my smokin' hot blind date obviously working herself into a sexual frenzy, getting off on being the focus of much male attention.

Then, I walked up, spun her around so that her back was mashed into my chest, and cupped her breastbone firmly on either side of her torso, my grip serving to raise her tits higher. My breath was hot on her neck, exciting her all the more. By now, she nearly palpably exuded electrical sparks, her desire evident to all, having captured the club after only perhaps ten minutes of her entrance.

We've all seen it, witnessed it, enjoyed it, envied it. The hot chick on the dance floor dancing as though she just HAS to get fucked, and soon. The dichotomy in this particular case was that Linda's pretty face was the essence of natural country-girl purity. What's that they say about the quiet, innocent ones?

I whispered in Linda's ear naughty words designed to heighten her arousal and accelerate our trip from the dance floor to the next step of this 'good news' first date. "You know that every guy here wants to fuck you, don't you?" She shuddered and gasped in response to my words, reaching back to pull my head onto her shoulder, while she gyrated even more animatedly.

"You have all of them hard, wishing they could feel that hard body of yours, part your legs, suck your tits, finger your hot cunt, lick you, taste you, smell you, and then fill up your needy pussy with a big cock, pounding you." Her shallow breaths had reached a crescendo, she was virtually panting now, seemingly on the verge of orgasmic release.

I reached my own verbal climax, the purpose clear. "Just like I'm going to when we get to the car." Her body heaved in my embrace, she convulsed into a subtle but discernible spasm. The crowd watched closer, entranced, waiting to see what would transpire next. I felt like a passenger in the movie "Speed", a third-party observer within my own surreal dream, holding on for the wild ride.

I went for the closing statement, followed by the inevitable inquiry. "Tell me what you want, Linda, you're the hottest piece of ass this place has ever seen, and I'm gonna take you outside and fuck you. You need to get fucked tonight, don't you, isn't that what you want?"

She looked at me with that innocent face, but her eyes were filled with unmistakable and unbridled lust. "If you wanna fuck me, John, you better get me out of here now before I take you up on your offer to fuck every guy in this club, I'm so fucking horny."

Um, that was good news.

I felt like Mark Anthony escorting Cleopatra to the scene of the carnal events to come.

Some corners of the bar's male patronage burst into applause when we exited. The same bouncer who provided free entry handed Linda a VIP card for free lifetime admission. (Gee, that was sentimental, I thought, I wonder if he has a discounted tattoo offer, also?)

We drove back over to the parking lot where we started our adventure hours ago. Linda warmed up for the pending activities by seductively rubbing my crotch over my pants with one hand while pushing her other hand beneath her skirt to diddle herself leisurely. It then dawned on me that I hadn't yet seen Linda's vehicle or where she had parked since I had met her inside the first bar hours ago.

"Over there," Linda said, releasing her hand from my crotch to point to a minivan parked in relative seclusion by the river's towpath. "It has reclining seats and a privacy window, will that work?"

As we climbed into the van and Linda immediately pushed me back into the back seat and virtually tore my pants down, raising her own skirt, I thought that would work just splendidly indeed.

She grabbed the base of my shaft and literally stuffed it into her tight hole, grunting to accept the girth, positioning herself by circling and rocking and writhing her hips down onto my length. She took her blouse in each hand and lifted it over her head, revealing her slim, fit torso accentuated by perfectly proportioned tits, highlighted by those big light brown nipples that I had been waiting to suck upon all night.

She reached behind me to stroke my balls as she used my instrument like her personal trampoline. "Unggh, huge, I knew you'd have a big cock when you contacted me, you cocky bastard, I could just tell, you were so fucking confident. I love big cocks, fill me, stretch me, ruin my cunt, you stud, fuck me, I'm gonna use that dick for my pleasure. That big cockhead feels like a fucking walnut up my pussy, mmm, Christ. " She then stuck her fingers in my mouth and fish-hooked my lips apart. This drove me wild, this sweet, innocent-looking mother now turned cock-ravenous dirty MILF slut. My hips bucked to match her frantic thrusts, she was a woman possessed by cock, oblivious to the rocking created by our manic fucking that would have alerted any pedestrians in close proximity.

If that alone wasn't enough to bring attention to our condition, I was concerned her delirious and vulgar squeals would soon violate the municipality's noise restrictions as she began to convulse. Her taut buttocks slapped loudly and repeatedly against my thighs and she fucked me with animalistic fervor. My shaft snapped and bent as it assaulted her cervix, we had reached the bottom of her tunnel, but she demanded, vociferously, "More, more, deeper, harder, I'm gonna cum soon, I'm gonna.......ooooh, Godddddddddddd."

Her utterings trailed off into one long, continual primal grunt/scream as I felt a flood of warm fluid pour from her slit onto my waist, large drops trickling down onto my ass as I watched her flat stomach turn into a series of ripples, as if a pebble had been thrown into a pond, starting at the triangle above her golden muff and extending all the way up to her upper abdomen, just below her tight tits, next to her ribcage.

Her hands pushed hard against my chest to the point that I would later discover that I would be covered with bruises in the shape of fingertips as her nails dug into my own pecs as the aftershocks of her explosion coursed through her electrically charged body.

As suddenly and forcefully as she had mounted me moments before, she then extracted her cunt form my shaft, exiting her body from mine with an audible 'pop' and a stream of white, milky cum-cream, and she pushed my knees apart and began to tongue-lash my twitching cock, lifting my ass off the cushion with one hand so that she could have unfettered access to my flopping testicles.

Her eyes flicked up at me for a moment, her lips gripped me tighter, if that's possible. She pulled her head back, keeping the head in her mouth. She loosened just a bit and moved her head forward, getting me almost all in her mouth, then gripped me tightly and slid back again. And again. She raised her head for just a second to exclaim, almost admiringly, "You have a delicious cock," bringing her mouth to mine in a hot kiss before resuming her cock meal. I could taste myself from having wiped my tongue around the inside of her mouth.

It was as if Linda was consuming a melting ice cream cone, alternating between the cream and the cone. What she lacked in technical expertise, she more than compensated for in artistic expression, lapping and slobbering and spitting and groaning and trailing long strands of saliva from her mouth to my shaft and back again, over and over, coaxing my cum with her crazed oral administrations. She reached up to take my hand and place it on the back of her head and pushed roughly to indicate she wanted to be throat-fucked. Being the altruistic gentleman that I am, I complied. After all, it was our first date, and everyone knows you should be on your best behavior on a first date, right?

Her muffled groans and grunts with her mouth and throat filled with cock told me that she was having another orgasm simply from being face-fucked, and I soon thereafter announced my inevitable release and gripped her skull even tighter as my cum rocketed from my shaft, perhaps six bolts of powerful semen lightning initially, followed by another half-dozen smaller streams, all of which she swallowed or gurgled as my massive cumload flooded her sinuses and filled her belly.

There were tears in her eyes and a hint of semen oozing from her nostrils as she picked her head up to face me, once again almost sheepishly. What a sexual conundrum this vixen was. Her small mouth opened to reveal a cum-coated tongue and cheeks. "I've always wanted to do that, be throat-fucked, thank you, that was intense."