I woke up feeling hazy and a little confused. Where was I? I remember some alcohol, a casual get-together with some friends at a bar. It had been just a regular night out until a whiskey and water had appeared in front of me. The barkeeper pointed down the bar, and my head slowly turned until I saw her. She sashayed over to me and I couldn't believe my luck.
She was an incredible blonde, with full, deep, red lips. Her hair—did I say blonde?—billowed down to the middle of her back. Her eyes were deep brown , and her face looked straight out of a magazine. The next thing I noticed was her tits—I couldn't help it; they jutted straight out toward my face and were concealed by a spaghetti-strapped miracle in fire-red. Her deep cleavage was apparent—and I swore I saw a flash of hard nipple—as she sat down on the barstool next to me. As she did, her miniskirt rode up past mid-thigh and I appreciated her flat, tight stomach. Her legs were tight and long, and ended in four-inch heels.
"Like what you see, sailor?" she winked.
"Sorry for staring."
"Don't worry about it," she leaned over and whispered in my ear. "Girls get dressed up so that guys will notice them—it's flattering."
The other thing I couldn't help noticing was the rock on her fourth finger.
"He's out of town, he's rich, and he doesn't love me, let alone fuck me."
I was surprised at her bluntness, and also surprised that anyone with male hormones could let a girl like this go a single night without at least one healthy bout of nail-dragging, grunting, deep, tit-mauling, sex.
"So why me?"
"I can tell you're a good guy, and a little lonely. And I really like the way you look at me—it's sweet and makes me hot at the same time."
She was remarkably perceptive—my job often made relationships short, with unhappy endings. But I was not going to let this bout of incredible luck go.
The rest of he night was a blur. As I thought about it, I recalled a cab ride back to my apartment, groping her ass under her skirt as she straddled me. It took me a second to realize that I was just feeling her bare ass, and even her tight crack had not a hint of thong. That thought made me hard as a rock last night, and I felt the blood rushing to my groin the next morning as I remembered the rest of the night. She was insatiable, and we'd done it at least five different ways—she rode me both facing me so I could see her bouncing tits and shaved—oh yeah, shaved—snatch, and she rode me the other way so I could watch her jiggling ass. I pounded her doggystyle, ate her out in a 69, and even did it long and slow missionary style. But the one thing I was sure of was that she would be gone. A married woman out for a wild night of fun would not be around to regret the consequences.
Small slurping noises proved me wrong. I opened my eyes and she was there, her mouth firmly entrenched on my dick. I heard a pop as my cock slipped out of her mouth, rock hard.
