Neon Delights

I have been rather busy lately and have not managed to find the time to write as much as I would like, but that's life I guess. This tale was written for a friend and is not the second instalment of my planned series of "A Life as a Royal Sex Slave" which I'm still working on. Still, I do hope that you enjoy it...

It was well after 10 pm and I had just cleared Hong Kong's packed customs hall. My mood seemed to mirror the city that was wreathed in a thick blanket of fog. The cab I was travelling in turned down another street and more of the city's damned garishly neon lights seemed to tower and glare weakly, tuning the very air into a glowing multi-coloured fuzziness.

All this seemed to add to my growing headache, and I felt irritable. Over twenty hours of flying in cramped aircraft and lengthy flight transfers at packed airports, filled with grouchy people and screaming kids seemed to do that to you. I just knew that my mood was unlikely to change any time soon.

I'd kill for a decent cup of coffee and none of that airline piss would do for me, I thought to myself.

"God, I'm getting too old for all this travelling bullshit!" I muttered under my breath, while I tried to work some of the journey-induced kinks and knots out of in my exhausted body. Quite by accident, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a halo of beckoning lime-green.

A neon sign advertising what I so desperately craved amongst the many thousands of suggestive, multi-coloured, flashing adverting boards. I can't even remember what the exact name of the place was. Probably didn't look properly anyway or I was just simply too tired to take it all in. All I saw was that the place was called 'The Incredible Coffee Cove' or something like along those lines.

"Stop the cab!" I instructed my driver. My hotel was less than a block away, but I had a real strong hankering for a decent cup of coffee that needed to be satisfied now. After peeling off a wad of Hong Kong dollars and issuing instructions for my luggage to be delivered to my destination, I grabbed my laptop and crossed the busy road to get my liquid fix. I could almost feel the tension drain from my weary body as I sniffed the welcoming, distinctive aroma as I stepped from the road and onto the sidewalk.

The place was full but I was fortunate enough to find a table stuck away in the back. The coffee bar was softly lit and muted piano music competed with the murmuring buzz of the crowd. Seated and with my order placed, I fired up my old PC, hoping to finalise a few details before my planned meeting early the following morning.

Smiling my thanks to my friendly, petite waitress, my steaming mug of java arrived before the machine had finished booting. Looked like my trusty old computer was showing signs of old age too. Scoffing at the irony, I slurped a mouthful of the scalding liquid and sighed in satisfaction. I started to feel a little better about life.

I took a moment to reminisce about how I had had a dream when I was younger. It was more of a desire, really almost a passion that had consumed me to such a degree that I had never married, settled down or had any kids. I had wanted to become a luthier and make guitars. Not just any old trash, but highly sought after, hand crafted musical instruments.

That was thirteen years ago now. With a little luck and heaps of hard work I had achieved most of my goals. But the travelling was really starting to get me down. Maybe that was just another sign of my age?

Mind you, business was also getting to me lately. The industry just wasn't what it used to be when I had first started out. I had been toying with the idea of selling the company and retiring to some tropical beach and opening a dive shop or beachfront bar or something to keep me busy and sane.

Only problem was I was looking at forty-one fast approaching and the world at large would frown upon me for being a lazy, burned out beach bum with no ambition. Wait, I lie: I knew deep down that I couldn't hope to make enough money from the sale of the company and still hope to survive for another thirty to forty years at my accustomed level of lifestyle. Maybe it was just a midlife crisis.

I took another sip of coffee. Ah fuck it! What was another nine years or so of toil, I reasoned. What was the difference between retiring at forty or fifty? I just had to make sure that I had enough time left to enjoy the fruits of my labour. Ah well...

My machine had finally finished suffering from its age-induced Alzheimer's and managed to get itself up and running. About bloody time too! I thought that I've got to get a new machine while I'm in the wonderful land of technology, gizmos and electronics. My fingertip was hovering over the touch pad when the damn thing decided to get its revenge on me and blow up.

Well maybe not blow up as such, but it certainly seemed that way at the time. It just sort of sparked like a long forgotten cheap 80's disco, then fizzed and puffed a fatal telltale whisper of dying electronic smoke. While this was happening, I felt something incredibly hot splash into my lap and I shot out of my seat as the screen winked out for the final time.

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry, are you alright?" I heard.

"Fucking brain dead arsehole, why the fu..." I choked back my heated words as my eyes fell upon the angel that had wrecked my tired old computer and drenched me. No, wait, angel wouldn't be an accurate enough description. Goddess. Yep, goddess would be the word I would use to describe this vision before me. God almighty, I had never seen such an achingly beautiful woman before and only recently just turned into a woman too, by the looks of things.

I must have really looked a sight. A travel weary forty-year-old man, clutching and tearing at his steaming wet jeans with his dick burned to a cinder, all the while trying to look ever so cool and make it seem like this sort of thing happened to him all the time. Strange how a beautiful woman can have that effect on a man.

I know I would have burst out laughing if I'd have seen it happen to some other poor bastard; but this was me, so instead I just shrieked, "Wow ow! Fuck... hot... hot... ooh... hot... ah... hot... fuck... hot..." while dancing the craziest of jigs. As I said I'd be rolling on the floor by now, laughing at this clown!

The drop dead gorgeous blonde before me melted to a blur as my eyes started watering, but all of the sudden my fiery crotch seemed like the uppermost thing in my mind. Without thinking, my hand shot out for the elegant vase on my table, while the other frantically whipped out the single, long stemmed, pink carnation. I have no idea how the human mind works sometimes, particularly mine. While I was dousing my jeans and enjoying the cooling effect of the water, I handed her the blossom. Can you believe that?

With most of the sting now gone and breathing a sigh of relief, I heard a rousing and thunderous round of applause! Thinking that the piano man had finished playing his piece, I looked up and saw that the standing ovation was directed at the two of us. I noticed too that she had the cutest smile on her sensuous lips, with the carnation tucked under her pert nose.

Never before have I wished for the ground to open and swallow me whole, but I would have given everything that I had for that to happen to me now! With my face aglow like a nuclear reactor in meltdown mode, she offered me her slender hand and breathed, "Hi my name is Claire." Without thinking I took it delicately, as my waitress rushed up with a cloth to repair any damage.

Claire, my tormentor and saviour, snatched the napkin from the helpful waitress and started dabbing at my wet jeans and scorched organ. I just stood there numb, like a dumb, spotty teenager while his mum sorted things out for him. Was that the ground rumbling? Oh God please say that I was about to drop out of existence and be saved from this humiliation?

Wishful bloody thinking, not even the slightest of tremors it seemed! It did appear as if Claire was enjoying herself immensely though and certainly seemed to be taking her time at getting me dry and presentable. Claire admired her handy work when she had finished and handed the cloth back to the hovering waitress.

And then I think that my muddled mind kick into neutral or just simply flipped out. I remember asking my new found friend, "Can I get you another? Waitress, please get another of what the young lady was having..." and I pulled out the other chair and ushered her to sit like she was royalty or something. Now If I had have been watching this scene unfold from another seat in the establishment, I know that I'd have been suitably impressed by that smooth bastard.

It was only when I was seated that everything kind of sunk in and I burst out laughing! I didn't think that lunacy was contagious, but soon Claire's scarlet, cupid bow lips broke into a sexy grin and I got a glimpse of her perfect teeth as they trapped the tip of her pink wet tongue. Smitten, hopelessly smitten would be my choice word for my feelings at that moment.

"I'm terribly sorry that I ruined your computer, but someone bumped into me and..." Claire explained, I could certainly get used to her lilting American accent, but I had to stop her.

"Don't worry about that tired old thing, damn thing's so old it still runs on coal! I had already decided to get myself a new one while I was in town. My name's David by the way, but my friends just call me Dave." I informed her, about to shake her hand for the second time. Fortunately I realised my mistake in time and so prevented myself from looking like an even larger fool. I quickly snatched hand back and knocked my own cup of coffee into my lap this time.

What the hell was going on here? Was this some sort of conspiracy to wipe out the last dregs of my self-respect? Groaning in shame, I simply held out my hand and the waitress handed me a new napkin, trying hard but loosing the battle to stop herself from smiling. Thank God my cup had cooled a little, but I did hear more than a few tables chuckling around us.

"Most people would use their mouths to drink their coffee. Now I know that you've got a big cock in your pants from when I cleaned you up earlier, but I didn't think that it would need a cup of coffee too. Should we get out of here?" Nodding sheepishly and unable to think of a fast enough retort, I threw a couple of dollars onto the table and tucked my still dripping laptop under my arm and left as quickly as I could.

The walk down the foggy, neon lit street went of without a hitch, which kind of surprised me a bit. I mean with my recent run of luck, I wouldn't have been at all surprised if I was the only one blasted into oblivion by some unexplained meteor shower or something. I did however enjoy my company on our stroll to back my hotel.

I also received a few rather envious looks from some of the single blokes trawling the city for female companionship. That had more than made up for my earlier strife and I really started to feel pretty good about things. After signing in, we collected my room key and headed over to the bank of elevators.

"When we get up to your room I'll call room service for some ice. We'll have to do something to soothe that injured monster of yours." Claire giggled delightfully. If we weren't in the elevator, I swear that my ego would have filled the entire hotel lobby! Nothing could beat having an exceptionally attractive lady in her late teens to early twenties compliment a man of my age! We fall for it every time, just ask any girl who has her 'Daddy' firmly wrapped around her little finger.

She would not listen to reason, though, no matter how much I tried assuring her that I would live. True to her word, after we entered my elegantly appointed room, Claire went straight over to the phone and placed her order for the improvised emergency medical supplies. I'd never think of ice in the same way again, that was for sure.

"Well don't just stand there Dave, go to the bathroom and get out of those wet clothes. I'll bring the ice to you as soon as it gets here." No matter how much I tried to reason with her, I still found myself chased off to the bathroom.

Sitting stark naked on the closed toilet seat, I had some time to ponder this most amazing of women, before the ice arrived. Every exquisite detail was seared into my mind. Claire's flawless oval face was surrounded by blonde hair that hung to just past her shapely shoulders. Ice blue-grey eyes framed her wonderfully shaped nose and tell tale dimples hinted at a bridge piercing at some earlier stage in her life.

Those mesmerising eyes were enough for any mortal man to lose his soul to if you stared into them long enough, and it was impossible not to stare. In fact, I felt myself drawn to her because the lobes of her ears had been stretch and that told me that she was into body modification. I too had undergone the needle a number of times a few years ago and now boasted five penis piercings.

Oh my God and those pouty lips. Her lips were created for two purposes only: passionate kissing and, -- dare I even think it?-- stunning blowjobs, too. But that thought made me feel a little glum. We would never be anything more than two ships passing in the night and then there was our huge age difference, too. Ah, but a man could dream, couldn't he?

"Here's the ice, Dave!" She announced happily, as she flounced through the door and into what I mistook to be, my private sanctuary. "Oh God are you all right, you must be the most accident-prone person I've ever met!" she exclaimed. Nothing could be further from the truth though. You don't get to keep all you appendages on your hands, or even your hands themselves for that matter, in my business by being accident-prone. Especially when you take the saws and all other dangerous equipment I've used over the years, into account.

I would not argue that bad things seemed to happen to me when I was around Claire though. When she had barged in, I had tried in vain to cover up my steadily swelling red cock and in my haste, I had lost my balance, slipped and fallen off the damn toilet seat. I found myself sprawled out on the floor after I'd brained myself on the bathroom sink.

"How are you feeling?" she asked me, concern filling her dazzling eyes. I was now perched on the corner of the bed, with an improvised ice pack held tenderly to the growing bump on my crown. The truly amazing thing was that she was kneeling between my legs on the carpeted floor before me, rubbing my tender, long staff with soothing ice.

At this stage modesty had just about gone the same route that my dignity had, straight into the gutter and down the drain. The worst part was that I really was past giving a damn. Jesus, when so much bad shit had happened to you in the space of an hour, wouldn't you feel a little out of sorts too?

"Not too bad, all things considered. How are you doing?" I replied, feeling a little sorry for myself.

"I'm doing better than you," she giggled with a mischievous gleam in her eye. "I think that I'm going to call you Bear from now on..." My confused expression must have given away the mysterious meaning of my newly acquired nickname.

"I'm going to call you Bear, because you are as grumpy as a bear with two sore heads ..." I couldn't help but smile at her wisecrack and started feeling a little better. Hell, here was the most beautiful woman I'd have ever seen, she was gently rubbing ice along my injured penis, and my body had started to respond to this unbelievable fact.

At this juncture, I must point out an inescapable fact about myself. The reason for my dick piercings was a vain attempt to try and detract from the sheer size of my manhood. Most men dream or even fantasize about having a bigger dick, almost to the point of obsession. But I'm the opposite. Ask any man who is above averagely endowed and they'll tell you it's more of a burden than a blessing.

I have only ever had three accommodating women with whom I was ever been able to fully insert myself into. The rest of the ladies who have been brave or even silly enough to try and ride me, have suffered and I've generally never seen them again. So trust me when I say, having an eleven-inch monster that's about as thick as coke-can is not the blessing most people think it is, be you male or female. So I always try and let any potential lover know this fact before the clothes come off, it just saves on embarrassing tears and hysterical apologies when things turn messy and don't work out.

"Jesus, Dave, this cock of yours does belong on a bear. Um, I don't mean to sound forward or anything, but could we um, you know err... You know, like no strings, um..." She asked, suddenly seeming a little bashful. "It's just that I've never had one this big before!" She blurted out shyly. Oh, God, she looked stunning. By now the ice cube had melted and her cool fingertips were lightly caressing my proud member, her hand repeatedly seemed to be drawn to my pulsing mushroom head.

The earlier scorching had made my joystick far more sensitive than it usually was, and I'm sure that it showed. If at all possible I had grown to the biggest I'd have ever seen myself. Now, whether that was my heightened sensitivity, or the fact that the single most attractive woman I'd ever met was manipulating me I'll never know.

"My Baby," I managed to groan, "this is your night and this tired old body of mine is yours to do with as you please. It would be my greatest honour to make love to you right now!" I managed to finish in a lustful hiss.

"Alright then! And you're not old so don't say such a horrible thing..." Claire clapped her hands in undisguised delight and gave a youthful shriek of pure joy as she scrambled to her feet. She tore at her elegant clothes with trembling and impatient hands. Her strappy sandals flew from her immaculate feet, to land somewhere across the room. I'm sure that my stomach did a flip at the sight of her shapely legs, sheathed in black fishnet stockings. Her floral top was the first to be discarded and her burnt-orange lacy bra immediately joined that garment on the floor.

Her mesmerising boobs were full and youthfully perky and each was topped with pinkie-sized nipples surrounded by mulberry coloured, medallion-sized areolas. I swallowed hard thinking that this could only be a dream, but I certainly didn't want to wake up and have it come to an end!

Claire was blessed with a waist that exuded a well-rounded femininity, certainly far from a model's anorectic midriff that seemed to be all the rage amongst the younger generation. But then again I had always hated making love to a stick of a woman, they always seemed to look half starved, sickly, deeply unhappy about their lot and I was always scared that I'd end up breaking them somehow.

Her hands groped at her soft, womanly mounds and manipulative, teasing fingers pinched and tweaked her nipples until they had more than doubled in size. I was so lost in this erotic show that I did not even realise that I had started fondling myself, but when I realised what I was doing I quickly jerked my hand away guiltily.

"No Bear! Please don't stop, I'm getting so turned on by watching you play with that enormous dick of yours. Yes baby, that's it! Oh my God! Oh yes my baby!" she chanted breathlessly as I started stroking myself again, the tinkling of my steel piercings added to the sexually charged atmosphere.

Her hands flew to her miniskirt and fumbled at the oversized, decorative belt buckle. Shimmying the skin-tight skirt over her voluptuous hips, I got a glimpse of paradise. Her sheer, orange thong did nothing to hide her bountiful mound from me, but that wispy titbit too soon joined the growing pile of clothing.

I had never known that such a superb pussy could possibly even exist. After she had removed her garter and fishnets, she shamelessly drew her middle finger through her fleshy folds. She then raised her hand to her mouth and suckled on the sticky digit, while giving me a lewd wink. But I had no time to admire her magnificent muff, because Claire all but tackled me as she dove onto the bed.