My Fucking Angel

This is my 100th published story; I hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

By the way, for those of you who hate cheaters of any type and it ruins a story for you don't go on -- try something else.

***************

It had been a bad week for me, Chad Minton -- well maybe even a bad month. My twenty four year old fiancée Charlotte Bronson had been acting squirrely for a while. During the week when this story starts she hit me with what would destroy almost any man's ego. "Chad, I really, really like you. In fact, I love you; but there's something missing. You just don't ring my bells when we have sex." Just what a twenty six year old guy who already had confidence issues when it came to romance would like to hear, huh?

Despite the fact that I choked up and turned red I was able to compose myself enough to get details. "Honey, your in-and-out stroking in my pussy seems perfunctory;" "you don't seem to be really into it when you suck my clitoris;" "your insistence on missionary position gets -- while not exactly boring -- but not exciting either;" and "sometimes you just don't seem to be into worshipping my tits;" were some of the really depressing things that she said.

I didn't know what to say -- except that I'd try harder. That wasn't the option she had in mind. "Chad, I'm going back home to Massachusetts for two weeks to take a break from us and think things over. We can come to a resolution when I get back."

A suburb of Boston is where her family is from. We were living in Orlando, Florida at the time; we shared an apartment. I thought that Charlotte was the love of my life, the only woman for me. While maybe our sex life wasn't the stuff of trashy romance novels, I thought that we had a deeper connection.

It was all that I could do not to shed some tears as we went to bed together Saturday night -- no sex, but some cuddling. I had a hard time getting to sleep -- Charlotte's melodious soft snores indicated that she didn't have the same problem.

Putting my big-boy pants on I took Charlotte to the airport Sunday, the next day, for her Massachusetts return and we parted with a much less than invigorating peck on the lips. The rest of the day Sunday I barely did anything but mope -- I couldn't even garner the energy to exercise, something that normally I did to work out issues.

Monday I had to get my act together for work. I have a bachelor's degree in Hotel Administration from Cornell, but I don't actually work in hotel management. Rather, I've always had an entrepreneurial bent and am the #2 person in Hotelier's Dream, LLC, a company that supplies hotels with a wide variety of products and services. We live in Orlando because the Orlando area has more hotels per capita than anyplace else in the United States. Hotelier's Dream doesn't service the Disney and Universal hotels but we do service many 3.5 to 4.5 star hotels in the area and in a short period of time (the company only started two years before I came on board) have developed a good reputation for prompt and reliable service. As part of my duties I am in charge of personnel and I pay my employees above market and can count on them to deliver exceptional service.

One of our best customers in the Westgate Lakes Resort; I sometimes go there to decompress because I have a very good relationship with all of the three assistant managers, and know all of the friendly bartenders at the sports bar there. Even though I normally don't drink anything except club soda or virgin pina colodas I tip well and always treat them with respect.

Westgate Lakes doesn't get many business travelers, but occasionally has some. After work the Monday after I dropped Charlotte off at the airport I ate dinner at the sports bar and then stayed sipping virgin pina coladas.

As I was moping in a corner of the sports bar a vivacious woman walked in. She didn't look like a typical guest. I say "vivacious" rather than "beautiful" because she was attractive more because of her spirited, lively & animated nature than her facial features and body (although she did have prominent mammaries). She was the type that made friends instantly.

Apparently she had already made friends the previous weekend with Shirley, one of the bartenders on staff who had inquired about my unusually dour demeanor earlier in the evening, because they greeted each other like old friends.

Perhaps one thing I should say about happily married Shirley -- she and other bartenders on duty when I had brought Charlotte there on occasion put up a good front, but it was obvious that there was something about Charlotte that they didn't like.

Occasionally I saw Shirley and the vivacious woman whispering to each other, and once Shirley even seemed to glance my way.

When I walked up to the bar for my third virgin pina coladas the vivacious woman looked at me and with a big smile on her face initiated a conversation. "You look like the guy from the 'Pina Colada Song' before he found out his lady liked getting caught in the rain," she chuckled; "but only VIRGIN pina coladas?" she snorted.

Given my mood under normal circumstances I would have replied something dismissive, or maybe even nasty, but because of her vivaciousness I just laughed. "I feel worse than I look," I mused.

"Tell you what, get a real pina colada and I'll talk you out of your funk -- I'm the best armchair shrink in the continental U. S." she smiled.

"Why not Alaska and Hawaii too?" I inquired, intrigued by her powerful upbeat personality.

"Lots of depressed people there so more fake psychologists per capita," she shot back.

Shirley placed a drink with an umbrella in front of me. "Vivian mentioned the real thing so this has Ron Zacapa XO in it, on the house," Shirley beamed. That particular rum has the reputation as one of the best -- and most expensive -- in the world.

So the vivacious woman's name was Vivian -- totally appropriate I thought. Vivian picked up her drink -- which looked like a rum swizzle -- and followed me to my table.

Vivian had the most sparkling personality of anyone I had ever met before. Even if she wasn't nice looking (which she was) and didn't have prodigious mammaries (which she did) anyone would have been enamored with her. From the way that she talked and the life experiences she related she probably was in her early 40s -- although about as well preserved as any 40 year old I had seen outside of some movie stars.

Without being asked Shirley brought us refreshed drinks every so often. I know that mine were no longer virgin, but I didn't care; talking to vivacious Vivian had brightened my mood considerably. In fact after my tale of woe to her Vivian actually had me laughing about the situation rather than crying.

After hearing about my situation Vivian had an entire string of stupid heartbreak puns that overcame my defenses and made me laugh. Two examples: "Why did the phone break up with the charger? It couldn't deal with the constant connection issues!; Love is blind but my breakup gave me 20/20 vision!"

I kept demurring that Charlotte hadn't "broken up" with me, but Vivian kept saying "get your head out of your ass -- she broke up with you and is boinking some guy in Boston right now."

Had a guy said that to me I probably would have gotten pissed, and maybe even decked him, but coming from Vivian it was almost humorous -- "almost" being the operative word.

Finally, apparently Vivian had enough of my lack of what she considered a grip on reality but what I considered skepticism, so she said "OK, call this Charlotte woman right now."

"On her cellphone?" I inquired -- the rum in the pina coladas was apparently causing a little lack of awareness.

"Yeah, and when it goes straight to voicemail we'll call her parents' house," Vivian grinned. I had already told Vivian that her youngest (of three) sister Debra was a High School senior still living with her parents Harold and Jill, all of whom, especially Debra, seemed to like me the three times that we'd met.

I called Charlotte's cellphone; damn if Vivian wasn't right, it went straight to voicemail. I didn't leave a message. I turned to Vivian and said "Don't you get tired of always being right?"

"Nah -- no guilt or boredom whatsoever," she snickered. Then she got out her cellphone and asked "What's her parents' land line number?"

I gave it to her. Then completely turning from jovial to serious as the phone on the other end had obviously been answered she said "Hello, this is Vivian from Charlotte's office. Could I speak to her please...This must be Debra, she's had so many nice things to say about you...Oh I bet that I know who she's out with, what's that guy's name...Yes, I figured as much; I told her not to do that to her fiancée but I knew she wouldn't listen...Yeah, I think it's a shame too...No, I just wanted to talk to her about an issue that came up that's right up her alley but I don't really want to bother her. I can find the answer to my question some other way...No, there's no reason to even tell her that I called...Thank you so much Debra and good luck with your college applications...Bye now!"

I guess that I already knew from Vivian's end of the conversation what was going on, but I had to ask anyway. "What's the story?" I glumly inquired.

"She's out with Vance. Sorry, dude; even though I expected it I hoped that it would turn out differently," Vivian replied.

Now the good mood that I had been in was destroyed; I was sure that the Vance that she was out with was her boyfriend in college, "Vance" not being a particularly common name.

Vivian hugged me, Shirley magically appeared with another pina colada, and the tenor of our conversation changed from jovial to pragmatic.

I'm a short hitter, so I know that I got drunk; but I don't remember much else of what happened the next while. I have a vague recollection of Tom -- the bartender on duty with Shirley at the sports bar that night -- and Vivian helping me out of the sports bar, but not much else.

The next thing that I clearly remember is waking up with a start, but without a hangover, in a strange environment. I believed that I was no longer intoxicated, but I wasn't sure where I was. I got my bearings within a few minutes and concluded that I was in one of the rooms at Westgate Lakes. I had been in rooms there many times in providing goods and services, but had never stayed overnight before.

The bedside digital clock read 4:49 a. m. I just had my boxers and undershirt on and was under some covers in a king size bed. Next to me was a woman. I slightly lifted up the covers. The woman was naked -- and had the best set of tits that I had ever seen. She was on her back, which wasn't surprising because with that pair of honkers she sure as hell couldn't sleep on her front. After staring for a few seconds I recognized the woman; my discussions and interactions with Vivian from the night before came rushing into my brain.

I got up, did my business in the bathroom, suddenly felt a little clammy, and took a shower. After I dried off I left my underwear in a pile on the bathroom floor and went back to bed naked -- If Vivian slept naked there was no reason that I couldn't too.

I did have a problem when I got back to bed, however; when I looked at Vivian's tits my little soldier saluted. Even though I felt like a pervert I reached out and touched one of her very elongated upstanding nipples.

I had been lightly massaging and twisting her nipple for no more than 30 seconds when her eyes fluttered open. She turned her head toward me. Already having found out from the night before what a piece of work Vivian is it didn't shock me as much as it should have when she said "Good -- you're awake and naked -- I need to see if you're as bad in bed as Charlotte says."

With that she rolled over toward me, we put our arms around each other, and we started kissing. It never even occurred to me -- let alone made a difference -- that she was probably old enough to be my mother.

As we passionately kissed I really enjoyed playing with her tits, and she seemed to really enjoy fondling my testicles. Although I'm certainly no porn star I do know that my testicles are overly large --and sensitive.

After a few minutes of kissing and groping Vivian pushed me away slightly and said "My clit needs to be sucked." Her wish was my command as I immediately tossed the covers off most of our bodies and shinnied down until my face with even with her pussy. I found it impossible to let go of her tits, however, so while I continued to massage them my mouth, tongue, and even nose got busy with her pussy.

After licking her pussy lips and part of her inner wall, and getting a very appreciative reaction from her, I moved one of my hands off of a tit, fiddled with her clitoris hood to expose her love button, and sucked hard. It is very fortunate that I was enthusiastic, and considerably outweighed her, otherwise I may had been dissuaded -- or flipped off the bed -- when her reaction to my clit sucking caused the most extreme spasm in my experience; not just sexual experience, all experiences.

With such an appreciative and enthusiastic partner -- even though she was pulling my hair like she was testing for a wig -- I kept up my attack through at least four orgasms from her. After the fourth one she begged me to desist. "Please stop Chad," she mumbled. "Please let me recover; then stick your cock where it belongs."

I moved back up to hold her in my arms and kissed her with my pussy-juice-covered lips, and continued playing with her exquisite melons. After she recovered from her circuits being overloaded she broke our kisses and growled "Dick in cunt, NOW!"

By that time my cock was so hungry for some pussy that it was literally palpitating. I aligned myself properly and then slowly but determinedly inserted my cock into her eager vagina. It was slow going either because she was very snug, my cock was at its all-time expansion, or both, but the penetration was oh so delicious; as were her groans of compliance and expectation.

I'm not exactly sure what overcame me but I was soon pistoning with the same speed and power as a Ferrari engine piston driving the car at 100 mph. It was a disappointedly short period of time before I was fire-hosing her pussy. It was long enough, however, for her to be screaming in ecstasy while her fingers dug into my back until as my last salvo was being discharged she went limp.

I thought that it was an urban legend that you could fuck a woman unconscious; at that point I wasn't sure if I had done that or if she had some medical emergency, so I pulled out -- with a loud groan when my hard cock popped out of her pussy -- and held her in my arms. I kept asking if she was all right, with no response -- until after a minute or so her eyes fluttered -- they opened completely -- she smiled -- and then she said "Charlotte is a fucking foo1" and kissed me.

After some more fun that was better than any I had ever had before when her alarm went off at 7:30 we were both snapped out of our sexual stupor.

"Shit -- I have a meeting at 9:00 and I don't have a spine, you bastard. What did you do to me?" she grumbled.

"It's not what I did to you -- it's what you did to me," I grumbled back. "I need to be at work by nine too, and I have to go home and get changed."

I had already made three sperm deposits by the time that we showered -- an all-time record for me in an approximately three hour period -- and Vivian had too many orgasms to count. Despite that I was angling for another fuck in the shower -- apparently she had provided my cock with magical powers. "Oh no you don't, you pervert," she chuckled as she deflected my hardening member from her crotch area. "My pussy is too sore and I take longer to get presentable than you do. You can come back tonight."

At those words I was filled with more joy than when I was a kid opening up presents on Christmas morning.

*************

I was surprisingly productive Tuesday; it was like I hadn't been drunk and got a good eight hours of sleep. Maybe it was just because I felt so much better than I had from between when I had my "talk" with Charlotte and when I met Vivian.

I called up Vivian around 5:00 p. m. when she said she would be out of her meetings. I asked her where she wanted me to take her to dinner. "We can just get something quick -- a pizza or burger joint is fine," she replied.

"No deal; I know of several nice country French restaurants -- do you like that food."

"Sure," she laughed. "What a gentleman."

Before I picked her up I bought a bunch of wildflowers at the local Publix. When we got into my car I presented them to her, in a vase already filled with water -- and capped so it wouldn't spill. "You didn't have to do that," she solemnly said.

"I wanted you to know that you're not a piece of meat to me, but a cherished friend," I replied.

As I drove off she mumbled "Thank you," and I saw a tear in one of her eyes that she quickly wiped away. After about ten seconds to compose herself she became the bubbly vivacious woman I first met last night.

To make a long story short we had a nice dinner, that she insisted -- on threat of me losing my testicles -- that we went Dutch on. Then we took a walk along a lake shore, actually holding hands like we were teenagers. "Here I am, a 47 year old," and a VERY well preserved 47 year old she was, "acting like a High School kid before the prom," she mused, then kissed my cheek and momentarily laid her head on my shoulder. When we got to her room her demeanor turned from loving to voracious.

About one hour in, after giving her a series of orgasms using my tongue, lips, and fingers, I made my first sperm deposit in her vagina.

About two hours in I had my first titty fuck of my life using her DD soft yet firm bazookas. I couldn't believe how rewarding that was not just physically but emotionally. It was like she was giving all of herself to me, a feeling that I couldn't quite identify completely but was very real nevertheless.

Sometime during the night -- after I was wasted -- she produced a little blue pill and I used it to get myself to rally and fuck her ass.

I was astonished that she orgasmed during virtually everything I did, including the titty and ass fucks.

Wednesday I wasn't worth a shit at work, but I didn't care. I felt better than I could remember.

Vivian was leaving for home Thursday morning so Wednesday we went swimming in and then lay by the pool at Westgate Lakes. We had a quick meal in their casual dining area. Then Vivian wanted to talk in her room.

I insisted that she let me massage her feet as we listened to half an hour of mindless TV. I must have done a good job because she almost fell asleep when I worked on her feet. After I finished, and we both rallied with some high sugar soft drinks, we sat arm-in-arm together on the couch in her room.

"Chad, I first want to give you some advice; and then tell you about me."

"OK," I smiled then kissed her on the forehead.

"I think that given our experiences over the last few days that you'll realize that sexual performance has to do with your compatibility with your partner, there is no absolute ability. We are sexually compatible and because we are we had no issues. Your performance was A+ because you were attuned to me and I was to you; and I am bold enough to suspect that my performance was just as good for you as yours was for me."

"I disagree," I grinned. "Yours was more than A+; it was in the extra-credit, can't-be-topped, category."

She smiled at that and lightly bit me on the nose.

"I think you need to find someone besides Charlotte for your life partner. Not just because you don't 'ring her chimes' as she said to you, but because if you compare her experiences with her to those with me you will see that she doesn't 'ring your chimes' the way that they deserve to be rung either!"