Deidre Ch 05

Chapter 5

Nineteen, Going On Twenty

About this time I decided to switch jobs. Actually, I met a guy who told me about this position at one of the big insurance company's downtown. The fact that it paid almost twice what I was making gave me the push I needed to investigate it.

To my complete surprise, they hired me and I became a receptionist, girl Friday. It was one of the easiest jobs I ever had and I got to meet great looking guys every day.

The one thing about the new job was that it kind of separated me and Elsie. Up to then we had worked in the same building. I told her about the job, but she wanted to stay where she was.

Anyway, two weeks later, with my first big payday in hand, I went shopping. Among other things I found a sexy pink tee that read I want a quickie. Another thing I found that afternoon was a dreamy guy named Owen.

I was in this fern-bar, filled with Yuppie types when he sat next to me. I had watched him walk into the bar. He was almost stereotypically gorgeous: more than six feet tall, blond and muscular, though not in any overwrought way. He wore a dress shirt, Levi's and cowboy boots. When he spoke to me I had trouble catching my breath, but managed a little introductory chit-chat and that led to him offering to replenish my wine.

A few minutes later I was resting my leg against his and noted that I was having trouble keeping my hands off him.

The subject of parties came up. I forget who brought it up, but I know I jumped in with both feet, having previously noting a slight bulge where his big boy should have been.

"I love a good party," I said, trying my best to avoid drooling over his hand that had just rubbed my cheek while ostensibly examining my earring. "I go to one at least once a month."

"Met anyone memorable at one?" he asked.

"A few, I guess, but the timing hasn't been right."

He nodded then said, "You think the timing's ever going to be right? I mean, those guys go there for a reason."

"I don't know," I said lamely, wishing Elsie was with me to toss one of her quick quips out at him.

Twenty minutes later I was in his apartment, on his couch, enjoying his hand fondling my rump as I lay there with my head in his lap.

I was in a really slutty mood. I had no intention of fucking him; in a warped way, I had decided to refrain from fucking guys just because I was horny. Recent experiences had caused me to rethink quick and easy sex. At the same time, I had no qualms about oral sex on a one night stand. I didn't even need to receive oral sex on my end. A dreamy guy like this could fuel my masturbatory fantasies for several weeks at least. And the memory of getting down on my knees and totally rocking a guy's world will make my pussy wet every time.

I started to rub his lap with my right hand. His bulge grew, straining under his jeans.

"Whew, it's getting warm in here," he exclaimed as I unsnapped his Levi's. My hand went for the zipper, and I quickly unzipped his pants as well.

"Deidre, oh, wow!" Owen gasped, responding to my moves.

Without saying a word, I got off of the sofa, sat down on the floor, and in one swift move I yanked both his pants and his briefs off. I tugged them over his feet and tossed them to the floor. Owen was completely stunned, having had his pants pulled off so quickly. We had only been in his apartment for about a half an hour, and he was sitting on his sofa on his bare ass, his cock sprung into the air.

"Oh my God, I wasn't expecting that!" he yelled.

"Owen, you're talking too much. Just close your eyes and enjoy my blowjob."

"Oh, Christ... I never expected...."

"Baby, you won't be able to stand up after I drain your dick."

My hands kneaded his thighs; my fingers were inches from his balls. He let out a gasp when my nails brushed up against his balls. I grabbed a pillow from the sofa to put under my knees so I could be comfortable. Once I was in a good position, I reached up into his lap and started to Johnny him off.

"Oh God!" he said.

"No, I'm not God, I'm Deidre" I corrected him.

"Deidre, you're touch feels so good."

"You like my hands on your cock? Wait until my mouth is on it! Sucking your shaft, licking the head of your cock, giving you head. You're in for a treat!"

"Oh, fuck yeah, Deidre!"

The time for polite conversation had come to an end. I brushed my hair against his bare thighs - guys seem to love this -- then repeated it on his cock and balls as well.

I paused for just a second to remove my blouse and black lacy bra, sensing that Owen would like a gander at my tits as I blew him.

"Touch my boobs, sweetie!" I whispered, causing him to open his eyes. His hands jumped up to give them a welcoming squeeze. I let him admire my rack for a minute or so, enjoying the feel of his mouth and teeth on my nippies, before returning to my original kneeling position on the floor and roughly spreading his legs apart.

I started kissing and licking his strident shaft, making sure to add the proper sound effects like kissing noises and sucking sounds, knowing it added greatly to the overall sensations he was experiencing. I spent several minutes lightly sucking the head of his cock, then took one of his testicles into my mouth -- the entire ball, not just a part -- and warmed it with my hot mouth and at the same time slowly jerked him off.

"Oh, Deidre!" Owen croaked repeatedly. I have to admit I love hearing guys call my name out at times like these.

I tickled his balls with my tongue, teased his asshole the same way and then sucked his shaft down my throat, letting the overflow of saliva run from my mouth to his lap and then unfortunately, to the couch, soaking the material. I was bobbing up and down on his pogo-stick, maneuvering my under him so that I could squeeze his butt. Wasn't that how we started this on entering his apartment?

I stopped for just a second so I could answer a question that might have been in his mind.

"Owen, sweetie, when you feel close to orgasm, don't worry. I swallow! Just let your load out in my throat."

So many guys are squeamish about this factor. I guess it's because most girls make such a big deal out of it. The only time I don't swallow is when I want a guy to give me a facial; some guys have seen this in porn movies, so I let them come all over my face and hair for a special treat every once in awhile. But this was our first and possibly last time together and I wanted Owen to savor the experience of being sucked off and having his cum swallowed.

He began to buck his hips; a sure sign he was close. I jerked him faster, and at the same time, swirled my tongue wildly around the underside of this corona. He was sweating; I could feel it on his thighs which were brushing against my face. He was groaning and moaning with pleasure as I drooled and slobbered all over his lap, trying to make the blowjob as wet and messy as possible.

"Oh, Owen.... I'm going to masturbate like crazy when I get home tonight; thinking about this. I love sucking your cock!"

"Ohhh..."

I began sucking him like a slut in heat. I made sounds that I'd picked up from watching porn with Elsie while we practiced sucking dick on bananas back in high school.

I swished his cock inside my cheeks, getting it as deep into my throat as possible while breathing through my nose. I was buried into his lap; his cock completely inside my mouth, his thighs pressed up against my cheeks, my nose in his lap. My eyelashes brushed up against his pubic hair.

He was groaning non-stop. I gave him credit for lasting this long; too many guys had erupted moments after I took them into my mouth. But Owen was a keeper... well, I had no intention of ever seeing him again, but I respected his staying power.

I felt his balls draw closer to his thighs, a sign that his orgasm was imminent. I intended to milk him dry; I sucked and licked him lovingly, while stroking his balls. I looked up; his eyes were tightly shut, and his hands were by his side on the sofa. I reached his hands and placed them on my tits, letting him have something soft and pleasant to hold onto while he came.

"Oh, Jesus... I'm gonna... I'm gonna cum!"

I didn't answer him; I just sucked him faster, making moaning noises as I prepared to finish him off. My pace and intensity grew with each trip up and down his saliva slick shaft.

I made loud slurping and sucking sounds with my mouth. His cock was rock hard and throbbing; I could feel it shaking. I visualized the hot white come loaded up in his balls getting ready to squirt hard.

"OH! Fuck! I...." His contractions began, the explosion quickly followed.

Spurt after spurt of hot cum shot down my throat. I was able to gulp most of it down quickly, but some of it filled my cheeks. His own cum mixed with my saliva as I licked the tip of his shaft, valiantly swallowing it all down. I struggled to breathe through my nose, which was buried in his pubic hair. I finished him off, milking even more cum out of his balls with my hands. Just when I thought it was over, his cock quivered with some involuntary aftershocks, and yet more creamy juice trickled down my throat. I kept his rock hard erection in my mouth after the main part of the orgasm ended; there was drop after drop of cum still dripping out of the head of his dick even though the huge spurting phase had ended.

He completely collapsed, spent and drained. I lovingly stroked his thighs; his cock was still in my mouth, but I had stopped stimulating him as I knew his cock would be very sensitive. I slowly let him withdraw, and gave the head of his cock a soft little kiss, licking off the last remaining drops of fluid.

Eventually, I sat back up on the sofa with him. I let him doze off in my lap. When he started to snore I raised his head and got up from the couch. I fixed my clothing, checked my face in the mirror, removed a long strand of sperm from the hair near my forehead then satisfied, I kissed him softly on the ear and left. I never saw him again.

*****

Several weeks later, I was enjoying a latte in a Starbucks around the corner from my work place when a hand tapped me on the shoulder.

"Hello Deidre," I heard a familiar voice say.

Turning around I saw my Aunt Miriam standing there holding a coffee in her other hand.

"Aunt Miriam, what a pleasant surprise!"

"I could say the same," she laughed. "I never expected to see you here!"

I told her that I worked nearby and where. She seemed thrilled with this piece of news.

Aunt Miriam was my mother's sister. I had no idea she was in the city. I thought she lived in Buffalo, New York, several hundred miles away. When I mentioned this, she avoided answering me and asked me a question I thought odd.

"Do you still draw, Dee?"

I admitted that I hadn't picked up a pencil or piece of chalk in several years.

"But why?" my aunt said seemingly surprised at this news. "As I recall, you had a talent for drawing as a child."

"Aunt Miriam, that was so long ago. Why it must have been seven or eight years since I've seen you."

It occurred to me that she hadn't asked about my mother yet, and I wondered about it, but didn't mention it.

"I wish you would start in drawing again. You have the talent, it's something you can't lose, but you do need to work at it so as to improve yourself."

"Oh, Aunt Miriam..."

"You should. I work several blocks from here," she handed me a business card that had her name, a phone number and address and nothing else on it. "Call me, we'll do lunch," she said after telling me she was already late for an important meeting.

In true fashion, I forgot about calling her and went about my business, working nine to five and then bouncing around the clubs at night, not staying out too late weekdays, but letting it all hang out on weekends.

I had learned that Elsie was now shacked up with Vaughn and Jackie. She confessed that she loved being tied up and the rough treatment that came with it. I declined her offer to bring me back into the fold, and wished her well.

One of the clubs I began to frequent was called Le Tunnel. I suppose it meant something sexual, like, oh a cunt, perhaps. But I might be wrong. I never asked anyone who might know. It catered to alternative subcultures, like the punks, the Goths, and the rivet heads. It had loud, stomping music and nothing in the way of a dress code. Clientele literally crawled out from every dark and seedy corner of the city.

It was going to be another rainy Friday night as I dressed to impress the friends and strangers I would meet later. I carefully chose a very silky red-orange top that slipped seductively off one shoulder over a powder blue skin tight top. Of course, I went without a bra, so my rather large and usually erect nipples poked through the sheer material. My boobs looked soft and perky but natural in this top, and it rode up the side a bit to show off the curve of my waist and hips.

The large opening at the top and the free-flowing nature of the blouse let me control how much cleavage, and top boob I could show at any given time. I shimmied into my tightest pair of jeans. You know they type that make any girl's ass look spectacular. Being very low rise, my thong straps rode up and above my jeans, further accentuating my curves. I have a small waist and good sized hips to match my relatively large boobs, so this denim/thong combination was killer.

I drove downtown and parked two blocks from Le Tunnel. As I walked down the street toward the line outside the club, I kept glancing in the store windows at the way my top clung to my tits, which were bouncing nicely, keeping my nipples erect and poking through the sheer material.

When I joined the line outside I got several admiring looks from the women waiting to get inside. I was fully charged on entering Le Tunnel and its thick heavy beat that mingled with the cigarette smoke and lights pulsing on the dozen or so people jumping around on the dance floor.

I hadn't been dancing two minutes when a long-haired Goth type appeared next to me.

"Hello, beautiful." he purred against my ear.

"Sorry, not interested," I replied turning my back on him.

"Hey," he said, getting pushy and insinuating himself in front of me again. "I wanna dance with the hottest chick in the place, is all."

I couldn't help but laugh at him. I wondered how much time he spent in front of the mirror perfecting his facial expressions as he recited lines like those.

"My boyfriend wouldn't like that."

"You're dancing by yourself."

"I am, yeah," I said and turned away from him again.

He confronted me once again and persistently asked, "So where is he?"

"Behind the bar; his name is Johnny. Know him?" I had named a hue former professional football lineman who doubled as bartender-bouncer. His rep was such that hardly anyone fucked with him anymore.

The Goth type backed up a step and held his hand palm up to me. "Hey...I had no idea. I'm outta your face, babe."

And just like that, he was gone.

Truth be told, I had no special relationship with Johnny. Not that Johnny wasn't special, he was. Every girl in the place including me lusted after him, but he treated us all the same. He was polite, but cool towards each and every one of us. Some girls grumbled that he was queer. I doubted it, but had no proof one way or the other. He didn't mind if we mentioned his name to ward off unwanted Lotharios. We appreciated it, and left it at that. The game was that we'd mention his name, and work our way over to the bar and give him a kiss on the cheek, or lips it that were possible and that way conveyed his 'ownership' to the rejected party.

I kept dancing. The music got louder, and more bodies squeezed onto the floor. It was as close as one could get to an orgy without actually fucking, although many were close to it.

It wasn't unusual to see people begin their foreplay right on the floor, grinding and groping, kissing and licking. And it wasn't long before a long-haired guy was pumping his erection against my ass while cupping my right breast with his hand while we danced to a furious beat.

I followed him into the back of the club where we joined his friends, Blaine and Marco. My new found friend's name was Freddie.

As we talked and laughed, I moved around enough to give them the occasional thrill - bending over to get my drink, exposing most of one or both of my boobs - sitting back and allowing my tits to settle back under the sexy silk top that draped over them secure in the knowledge that the material showed my nipples to their best advantage.

After Freddie sprang for a round of drinks I started tugging at my thong, pulling it upward, letting them all check out my ass, which never looked better, you ask me.

Blaine was seeing a girl who he bragged, modeled for a New York designer and was in the Big Apple for a fashion show this particular weekend.

When I expressed surprise at this, Blaine quickly showed me several pictures of a stunning blonde in a white bikini smiling at him in adoration. She definitely had modeling capabilities. I was sold on his story.

I danced with Freddie again and found myself watching a petite brunette with 'fuck me' in her eyes grinding her pussy into a reed thin Hispanic with pistoning hips. When I realized how much I envied her, I knew I had to get laid. My problem was which one of the guys I was with would be my partner.

I took in Marco's dark cropped hair and dark eyes. His lean, muscled body had my attention. He noticed me checking him out and smiled at me. A chill ran through me.

"I've been watching you dance." he said.

"Oh," was all I could think to say.

"I saw the look you laid on me."

I was struck by his use of the word 'laid,' and another chill pinged across my clit.

"Oh, that..." I said. "I was just...."

"Shut up and dance with me," he said. I meekly followed him on to the dance floor.

With his hands on my hips, he took control of my body's rhythm. The song changed, slowed, its beat viscous. I found myself leaning back into him, his breath against my neck. His hand found its way under my silky red-orange top and lightly squeezed each breast in turn while I moaned into his ear.

"We better stop." I said. His body felt great against mine, but I couldn't let him fuck me on the dance floor. I was game, but not that game.

"You don't want me to stop." he said, pulling me tighter by grabbing a wrist.

"I like you, Marco, but I like the club too and I don't want them barring me for fucking in public."

Refusing to believe me, Marco grabbed the back of my neck, pulled my mouth to his and sent his hot tongue in search of my tonsils.

"You don't understand," I panted when we came up for air. "I wanna fuck...."

"I know," he said, and then pointed toward the bathrooms. "Why don't you go cool off?"

He'd thoroughly confused me and I started off toward the bathroom, propelled by a hard smack on the ass.

What had just happened? Did I tease him too much? Why'd he dump me?

Thinking furiously, I pushed my way past another girl and almost stumbled into the bathroom. Two women stood at the sink showing off their below-the-neck piercings to a very accommodating guy. I ignored them, moving past them to the furthest sink from the bathroom door. I turned on the cold water and splashed it over my face; my heart was pumping blood at breakneck speed through my arteries. I grabbed a paper towel and dried my face and then opened my purse preparing to apply a fresh coat of makeup to my face.

Suddenly, Marco grabbed me from behind and spun me into a nearby stall. I felt his hot breath on my neck as he whispered, "Cool off yet?"

"What are you doing?" I asked, but I already knew what we were going to be doing in less than a minute.

This is what you want, isn't it?" he asked, as he slid his hand between my legs.