Thom slowly began to wake with a fog on the brain. The room was mostly dark with filtered light from the street lamp coming through the window, and he failed to remember how he had gotten home. He remembered the club, and a few of the women he met, but little else. As his mind drug him from the foggy depths of sleep, he felt oddly out of place in the room, and couldn't move his lower torso. There was pressure across his thighs, and a warm tingly feeling in his groin. Becoming more aware he realized three things. This was not his room, there was a body across his thighs, and a warm wet mouth around his quickly rising cock. He lay motionless as the tingling sensation coursing through him jerked his brain into the present. His mind raced through the scattered and disjointed images buried under a blanket of booze. He was grateful to whatever power he didn't suffer from the typical headache hangover.
There was the heavyset redhead who ground her hip into his crotch as they danced and held him so close he could hardly breath, but the body holding him down, and the fingers wrapped about the base of his hardening cock felt too delicate. There was the short blond and the tall brunet that flirted with him, but they were married, and he now remembered them leaving together. That left the friendly dark haired Latino chick with a great personality, not bad body, but a face like a horse. God no not her. She struck him as a bit crazy. But as the blood rushed to his manhood, and the sensations the lips and tongue were sending through his core increased, he began not to care who it was.
Whomever the lips belonged to, they knew what they were doing. They rose and fell, slowly massaging him toward a powerful orgasm. She would rise to the crown, roll her tongue around it, pinch it with her lips sending shockwaves through his gut, then slide down his full length and bob up and down several times. He could feel the head of his cock enter her throat each time, and each time she drew back, she sucked hard sliding her tongue back and forth against the tender flesh of the underside of his cock. He could not lay still any longer. The sensations were too intense. His hips bucked, the sucking mouth increased in tempo, his balls tightened, then a sudden release shot through him like a shockwave.
His cock surged repeatedly as streams of cum burst forth into the tender mouth that so pleasantly awakened him. Pulse after pulse of seed burst free from his manhood, the first seeming to catch her off guard making her pause, then with a gulp, she continue to swallow all he had to offer. The fog in his brain was quickly replaced with a blue light of ecstasy. As the throws of orgasm subsided, and his muscles relaxed, the action on his member slowed, but did not cease. She continued sucking and licking till he was drained of the last drop, and went half soft. He was released from the warm mouth, and those lovely lips began kissing there way up his torso. As the lump in the sheets drew nearer the edge, his mind raced again as to whom it may be. Not that he cared after such pleasure given him. When she finally emerged from under the covers and looked him in the eye, a wide grin on her lips as her tongue ran once between them, he was totally shocked.
"Good morning, taxi." She giggled as her arms wrapped about his neck and she lay her head upon his chest.
"Great morning." He replied with relief.
She wasn't any of those he thought about, and he dug deeper into the recesses of his mind piecing together the events of last night. He had left the first club early with the blond and brunet, and walked three blocks to a western bar where they danced and flirted for about an hour before they left. He remembered hanging out at the bar for... That's who she is! She's the barmaid. One of them anyway. Dark brown curly hair, about five seven, brown eyes, and a body that could kill dressed in a beat-up cowboy hat, plaid shirt tied under her full tits, a pair of Daisy Duke shorts, and white deck shoes. He remembered getting quite drunk while flirting with her till closing. She asked if she could call him a taxi, and he replied she could call him anything she wanted if she took him home with her. Now he knew where he was, and who he was with, but what the hell was her name? Cindy...no. Linda...no. Pauline...close. Pam! That was it. Pamela.
"Yes Thom?"
He hadn't realized he spoke out loud.
"Do you often take overly inebriated patrons home with you? Not that I'm complaining mind you. I can't thank you enough for what you just did, though I think we can come up with something. It was faaaan-tastic."
She chuckled giving him a squeeze about the neck and kissing his chest.
"Thank you. I enjoyed it too. And no, I don't make a habit of bringing home strays.' She laughed. 'Frankly this is the first time I've brought anyone home I haven't dated a few times."
"Then why me? Though I'm damn glad you did." He asked hugging her in return.
"I don't know really. You were just so much fun to talk with, and had been such a gentleman, even as drunk as you were."
"Drunk? I was sloshed. I certainly remember you, but I don't remember leaving the bar.
"Does that happen often?"
"No. Not at all. I haven't done that since I was 21. I was celebrating a raise, and the first night of a ten day vacation."
