Public speaking, for most of us, is scarier than a trip to the proctologist. Just the mere thought of having to stand up in front of a group of people and simply talk, on any subject, is indeed a major pain in the ass, figuratively at the very least.
Such was my burden when I had to appear at the last minute as my company's substitute representative to announce the development another phase of an outlet center in Hillsboro, Texas, about an hour south of Dallas and a half-hour north of Waco.
Smack in the middle of fucking nowhere, in other words. Except for one very tangible perk. The women. Oh, my Lord, the fabulous Hill County, Texas women.
Since Hill County is essentially devoid of any lake or river of consequence, it is not scientifically probable to attribute this aesthetic phenomenon to something in the water.
So, we'll just chalk it up to a fortuitous chance of fate that I had to fill in for this appearance in front an audience of outlet center merchants, about ninety percent of whom were lovely Texas fillies.
One in particular served to distract me thoroughly enough. She sat in the first row, on a folding chair, as I had to navigate my way through a town-hall-like meeting, and perhaps it was my imagination (or perhaps not), but her sky-blue eyes never once seemed to leave my crotch.
I stopped once directly in front of her, chattering on incessantly about what an economic boon our expansion would mean for the entire county.
She licked her ruby-red lips as she stared unabashedly at my subtly-growing cock, like a hungry hound dog salivating over a bone that would soon be devoured. Everything about that analogy would prove soon enough to be true, except the unflattering hound dog part.
Believe me when I tell you, as if speaking in public were not harrowing enough, try to do so with a hard-on. Not even Hillary Clinton could pull that off. But I digress........
About ten minutes after my speech was mercifully concluded, I was still making nice and answering questions from some members of the assembly, when I noticed the aforementioned comely cockwatcher in the rear of the hall, patiently waiting her turn for a private conversation. I was happy to oblige, ma'am, as they apparently like to say down down there. (What the fuck did I know about Texas etiquette, I was only visiting from our home office in Maryland.)
Approximately another ten minutes passes until the room had emptied so that only my lip-licking fan and me remained. I took the opportunity to admire her in all her blissful entirety for the first time. She was a voluptuous woman, I guessed maybe early forties, the proverbial brick house. Not fat, not by a long shot, but certainly just the right amount of meat on the bones in all the proper proportions and places.
Her raven hair cascaded halfway down her shoulders, falling onto the equally black blouse that loosely contained what looked to be a Texas-sized pair of heavy breasts. Even though she wasn't advertising, there were an unmistakably huge set of mammaries in there somewhere.
A strand of pearls hung around her tan throat and fell into the gap of her subtle cleavage. She rocked slightly back on her tasteful heels, smiling at me, almost smirking in that uniquely mischievous way that I've since learned only true Texas women know how to pull off. She wore tan capri pants that provided enough of a view of her calves to see that they were lean but muscular. I immediately envisioned those gams wrapped tightly around my ass as I pounded into her Texas twat.
Her face was reminiscent of an American movie actress from another generation, timeless, classic beauty. Ava Gardner came to mind. I imagined myself as Gregory Peck, her leading man in the aptly named 'The Great Sinner'. She brought me back from my latter-day ruminations with the sound of her succinct inquiry, tendered in a husky, smoky Texas drawl, like whisky dripping from a shotglass.
"So, is it hard?"
I peered at her, her surprise opening salvo serving to essentially stop me in my tracks. She gazed at me and let those seductive eyes scan my torso long enough so that she would know for sure. Damn right, it's hard, missy.
I was on the defensive already, and I'm a much more effective player on the offensive side of the ball. Accordingly, the best response I could muster was less than eloquent. "Um, pardon me.......?"
She let her eyes linger on my crotch for another long second before raising her head slowly. Her full lips were moist and they seemed to tremble slightly as they pursed. She tossed her hair off of her forehead with a flick of her neck. "Is it hard?" she repeated. Then she finished her double-entendre. "I mean, is it hard to get up and speak in front of a bunch of strangers like that?"
She raised her eyebrows at me as if she were a professor who had popped a surprise quiz question on one of her unprepared students. My mouth opened, but no words came out except an inaudible squeak from deep within my throat. At least, I hoped it was inaudible.
Since I was temporarily rendered mute, the impromptu professor spared me the indignity of trying to stammer a reply. "I have a feeling it must be very hard."
She giggled to herself, clearly amused by her coyness. "Ah mean, especially when someone is in the front row like ah was, clearly trying to distract yew........" She batted her eyes and exaggerated her drawl, in that way that Texan women have of using their accent to tempt like Eve used an apple. Whatever works. Men are an easy target, it doesn't take much. She could have sounded like Danny Devito for all I cared.
I regained my composure, somehow, enough to finally utter a cohesive sentence or two. "If you were trying to distract me, you succeeded unilaterally." I extended my hand. She gripped it softly, demurely, One might say, submissively. I smiled my best smile. "I'm John Walters. But I guess you already knew that since you listened to my speech."
She held onto my hand and moved imperceptibly closer. Blueberries, I thought. She smells like fresh blueberries.
"Ah didn't really hear one word of your speech, John Walters, after yew said your name. And I sure as heck don't know what ewe-ni-lat-err-uh-lee means." She scrunched her tiny nose and dragged out the multi syllabic word for emphasis. "But I'm glad I could get your attention before all of those other ladies get a chance to get their claws on yew. Ah was tryin' to distract yew, handsome."
I don't know why, but 'handsome' gets me every time. Perhaps because I don't get referred to in that way very often. Well hung, yes. Handsome, not so much. But it was early in our relationship, and I liked the direction this path was taking, even though I still didn't know her name. She rectified that situation next, her index finger now lightly stroking my wrist.
"I'm Brandi, Brandi Stewart." She pronounced her last name so that it sounded like 'Stooo-ert'. It seemed to take about five seconds for the "Stooo" part to escape her lips, and I noticed because her lips formed this perfect oval when she said it.
Her mouth was wide, her lips were plump and wet, and I made a quick calculation that those impressive oral dimensions would look simply stunning around my burgeoning dick while I stuffed my cock within while she cooed her last name. "Stoooooooo-mmmmmmmmmm, oooooooo, yes........"
My new friend Brandi went on. "I'm the regional manager for DSW shoes, here on a visit just like yourself. I'm stationed out of Hew-stun." I assumed she meant Houston, I didn't know, I was still staring at those lips in the perfect 'O'.
"So," she said slowly, finally letting go of my hand so that she could wisp a lock of that gorgeous hair out of her equally gorgeous eye. "Ah haven't booked a hotel room tonight yet. Can you recommend one to me?"
Now, that was an invitation that was not to be ignored, so I finally called my own play, taking the offensive side of play for the first time. I was catching on to what was transpiring here. "Well, I've never stayed there before, but my company booked me at the Waco Hilton tonight. They tell me it's nice." It turned out that they lied about the 'nice' part, the name 'Waco Hilton' is an oxymoron, it's a dump. But that didn't deter the plan that was hatching.
Brandi furrowed her brow as if in deep contemplation. "Hmmm, the Hilton? Ah, don't know. Mah company is really cracking down on expense reimbursements." She rubbed her chin, and then her face brightened. Her gleaming ivory teeth rivaled the gleam on her pearls. "Ah know, why don't we just share a room? Ya know, the economy is tight right now, and you would want a girl to look like a hero to her company for cuttin' costs, wouldn't yew?"
This was too easy, I thought. I can't make it this easy, that's not like me, I have to complicate things. So, I wrinkled my own forehead and said, warily, "Uh, gee, I don't know, Brandi, maybe that's not such a good idea."
The shocked look on her face told me that it may have been the first time in her life that she thought she was being rejected. Hell, it probably WAS the first time. But I couldn't sustain the charade any longer, lest she walk away right now, a scorned Texas gal.
"I mean, what if you snore or something? I don't even know you." I held up my hands in shrug and gave her my best schoolboy grin, which didn't come close to matching the mischievous Texas smile of Brandi's, but it served the purpose. She understood implicitly, and turned to walk out the door, giving me a view of her round ass for the first time. Daddy liked. I usually go for smaller, pert asses, but this particular butt of Brandi's was in perfect proportion to her other features. She was by no means a 'flipper', but a tall woman with big tits usually has as ass that follows. Not that I was complaining, mind you.
"Who said anything about sleepin', darlin'?" She winked over her shoulder. " But, occasionally, I can be VERY loud. Why don't you check us in and I'll see you in the hotel bar about seven. Save a seat for me?"
I got nothing accomplished for the rest of the day, except perhaps learning how to walk around a hot Texas outlet center while trying to disguise a hard-on that would put those four-hour Viagra warnings to shame.
