Wet Dream 32

Wet dream

Chris dragged himself into the door of a party that he wished he had stayed home. People were everywhere. He was sure this was a fire hazard. The party looked like a meeting at the United Nations. His friend was social. Chris hated big crowds, but he promised. He looked around for his friend. He spotted a gorgeous snow bunny sitting alone at a table. She wore long-leg boots, a high skirt like a stripper, and nice sleeve tattoos running down her arms. She had to know where the host was if he hired her. "Hi, have you seen benny?" she gave him that deadpan look as if she had no idea to whom he was talking.

He tried another angle. "Are you available?"

"Three hundred for the hour and 180 for the half."

He could not tell if she was joking or not. Her math seemed off. He needed to get laid, and she was a wet dream. Working two jobs was taking a toll. No social life or relationship. "I will take the hour."

"In-call or out-call?" It sounded like he was ordering pizza

"Meaning?"

"I can come to you, or I host."

He thought this would be a fun time to satisfy one of his fantasies. "Outcall. I know a charming hotel."

"Pay first and we can be on our way."

He slid her the three hundred that he had peeled out of his pocket. He was not sure who knew she was a whore. He did not want to be caught buying pussy. He followed her out the door. They drove downtown to a high-rise Marriott hotel. He requested the penthouse suite. They rode up the elevator in silence. He could not get over how beautiful she was. She had a beach tan, which made her look like she glowed in the elevator's light. She was an angel, and he was ascending to heaven. "Why was she in this business," he thought. He could be Captain Save a Hoe, take her home and turn her into a housewife. The floor bell rang and snapped him back to reality. The dog in him resurfaced. "Room 2011," he said and let her lead. He watched the way she shook her hips. That was genetics. She did not learn that. She had a black girl's ass. It was perky and firm. Her body looked like she worked out every day. She swayed as if you looked at her ass too long it became a pied piper

He opened the door, and she strode to the balcony, dropping her Louie bag on the bed as she passed to look out at the city skyline. The moon was full.

"This is your fantasy."

"Yes, how did you know."

"Your choice of rooms." She pushed him back to the glass door, turned around, and pressed her ass on him. She did a slow grind. He followed her movement. She pulled him over to the chair and pushed him into it. She dropped her skirt by touching the back of it. He could see her panties and bra matched. She bent over in front of him and traced the outline of his dick. She smiled.

"What?"

"I'm glad to experience this fantasy with a well-endowed man."

He was not sure how she meant that. Could this be her fantasy too? He could not think straight. She unbuckled his pants and released his manhood. She admired it for a moment. His fear fought with his lust over how to get the condom out of his pocket.

"I have it here," she said. Opening the condom with her teeth. She held his dick with one hand and readied the condom in the other. She gave his dick a good stare as if she were examining it. Then she spits on it, lowering her full lips down over the head. Then swirled her tongue around it like a lollipop. He moaned and thought, "damn the condom." It felt so good. This was his Achilles heel. She went up and down like the way he masturbated. He opened his eyes to watch. He thought if he could record this. He realized the condom was on. He could not figure out how she did it and how did it feel this good. She looked him in the eye, and he could see her eyes smiling.

She stopped, turned around, and sat on his dick. Her pussy was warm and hugged him like he had found the passage to Neverland. He tried to think of all the people he hated so he would not cum. He remembered a saying that good pussy sounded like stirring mac and cheese. She rode him as if they were making love. Then she got up and bent over the balcony. He followed. She had him trained. He entered her and grabbed the balcony rail. He stroked but controlled himself. The moonlight glowed on them like a spotlight. He felt eyes on him. This ignited his passion. He picked up his tempo.

This is the first-time pussy ever spoke to him. They communicated like a jazz band. Her clarinet asked his saxophone how he felt. He heard Kenny G somewhere in his consciousness and his life stress melted away to harmony. He came without realizing it, with no jerks, spams, or tightness in the leg. His dick was still hard, but he felt drained. He continued to push.

She stopped pushing as if the ride ended on the rocking horse in front of the discount store. Then it started back without putting more money into it. He looked at it with amazement and enjoyed the ride.

She took a shower and put on her clothes. He sat on the bed with another three hundred dollars in his hand. "My tip," he said. She took it and kissed him on the top of his head. "You are going back to the party?" he asked.

"No, I am good for tonight. Call me when you want to satisfy another one." She floated out the door.

He laid back and closed his eyes. There seemed no better place to dream.