While I'm a fairly normal guy, I, Kent Brolin, have a few distinguishing aspects to my life, appearance, and personality.
I'm a little better looking, bigger, more fit, and intelligent than normal, though no movie star, super athlete, or genius. I got lucky and picked a career in a business that is both intellectually and financially desirable, and one that most days I can conduct from home. I'm normally reserved – shy even – when dealing with women and have been unlucky in love – dumped by two steady girlfriends and divorced by one wife (fortunately before I made lots of money) supposedly for being "too boring" and/or "not aggressive enough," according to each of them. "You're too nice a guy," was another common refrain from each of them – I guess that they wanted a jerk that was nasty to them.
I wasn't going to stop being a "nice guy," and helping other people because of these three bitches – but I thought that I needed to make some change to establish a rewarding long-term relationship.
That was my mindset on a fateful Friday when the temperature started out at 72 degrees Fahrenheit, but in early afternoon the second largest temperature drop from one hour to the next occurred in our city when a rain-producing front moved in. It was in the 40s and windy with driving rain as I drove my SUV behind a truck down a city street approaching a bus stop where five people were trying to huddle away from the downpour.
As the truck preceding me approached the bus stop it inexplicably swerved into a pond-like puddle causing water to splash onto all five of the expectant bus passengers, soaking them. As the soakees where yelling, crying out, or shaking, I stopped my SUV just past the bus stop. I offered to take them to my house, only two blocks away, to dry their clothes, and then drive them home.
The prospective passengers included an elderly white man, elderly black man, mature Hispanic woman, youngish white woman, and young black man. All except the young black man immediately jumped into my vehicle, but he allowed as how he wasn't as wet as the others and was in a hurry so that he would just wait for the bus.
I was able to pull directly into the garage of my house so that my passengers wouldn't get wetter. I gave them each a set of my sweat clothes, too big for all of them except for the elderly white man, but still wearable. After changing they put their clothes into my dryer, the two women took showers, one in each of my bathrooms, and I offered them all hot beverages while their clothes were drying. The two guys drank coffee, the mature woman tea, and the youngish woman hot cider. The conversation was light and breezy, and all four of my guests complimented me on the luxuriousness of my abode.
After about forty minutes all guests' clothes were dry, they put them back on and returned my sweats, and got into my SUV for me to take them home.
Just before we got into the SUV I noticed for the first time – I've never been accused of being observant – that the youngish female – she said that her name was Brittany – was as hot as a firecracker. Her clothes were too slutty for my tastes, and not suitable for the temperature drop that had occurred, but there was no doubt that she had spectacular gams, a shapely ass, and ample cleavage. He face looked like she was about my age – thirty three – although I found out later that she was only twenty seven – apparently she had had a stressful life.
Brittany rode shotgun and asked to be dropped off last. After I dropped off the other three she fished into her purse and exclaimed "Oh shit – I forgot my cellphone at your house. I'm so sorry – can you take me back, and then I'll get a cab."
Since I didn't mind ogling her shapely body and nice face a while longer I readily agreed. It seemed that Brittany was flirting with me on the way back, although I wasn't observant enough to be sure; I did notice the absence of wedding or engagement rings.
When we did return to my house, she found her phone under the kitchen table – it seemed to me that she knew right where it was. As she placed it into her purse with a big smile on her face she said "You really are a nice guy, Kent. I'd like to do something nice for you in return for your kindness."
With that she started removing her clothes. I was in shock. I hadn't been laid in three months, hadn't even had a date in a month, and as Brittany peeled her clothes off it was clear that she had a consummate naked body.
It was impossible to resist her – not that I ever seriously considered that as an option. She was like a bitch in heat as we staggered into the living room, interlocked as we pressed our bodies and lips together. After she exposed and rubbed my cock and I started eating her delicious pussy – which she obviously had washed thoroughly when she had showered, now about an hour ago – she somehow produced a condom, rolled in onto my iron-stiff cock, and proceeded to fuck my brains out.
No, I didn't fuck her; she got on top and she fucked me with an intensity and vigor an order of magnitude greater than any other I had ever experienced. I just about burst the rubber I came so hard, and no one could fake the orgasm that she had; she spasmed so violently that at first I thought that she was having a coronary.
After our virtually simultaneous climaxes, I stayed inside Brittany for as long as I ever had in any woman in my life, and our bodies remained in contact, glistening with sweat and groaning in pleasure. The only thing lacking was conversation. Every time that I started to say something Brittany would plant a passionate kiss on my lips.
Eventually – it turned out to be about fifty minutes after Brittany put her phone into her purse – she got off of me. I was still in nirvana as I saw her saunter into the kitchen and get dressed. Still naked, except for my socks, which neither Brittany or I had never removed, I offered to drive her home.
"I don't want you to know where I live, or anything about me, Kent. I'm going to take a cab. However, since I'm short of cash could you loan me $20 for the fare. I have every intention of fucking you again – in fact let's make arrangements for that right now," she snickered.
I just gave her $20 – not a loan – and she called a cab. While we waited for the cab she got face-to-face with me and gently played with my testicles. "I have a proposition. We just enjoy each other for sex. We don't involve each other in the other's life, or find out anything about each other. We fuck our brains out once or twice a week. How does that sound stud?"
Since she was the best fuck that I had ever had – by a light year – there was no chance that I was going to object. We concluded that she would visit me Tuesday at noon. She planted a final liplock on me as the cab honked, squeezed my scrotum, and said "can't wait," as she hustled out the door wearing an old raincoat of mine over her slutty outfit.
After Brittany left I sat stunned in my kitchen, still bare-assed, for at least an hour wondering what the fuck had just happened. There had to be some catch – something wrong with this picture – but what certainly wasn't clear. I kept wondering whether she was a gift horse, or a Trojan horse. I finally convinced myself that unlike my three previous women I was in relationships with Brittany found me being a nice guy "sexy" rather than "boring." After this revelation I snapped out of it, dressed, made dinner, called a buddy, and went to a movie.
I didn't tell my buddy what had happened when he asked "Why the sly smile plastered on your face, Kent? Having a continuing fantasy?"
I wanted to say "A reality better than any fantasy," but I was afraid that I'd jinx the situation, so I kept quiet.