It has been a while since I've written, and I have to admit there hasn't been a lot to write about. Oh, I am still involved with my former boss, I still am dating a couple nice guys, still working and still enjoying life.
At a recent luncheon with my friend Jennifer we reflected on our lives and the little and large things that make us happy. Jennifer has rekindled happy into her personal repertoire since breaking up with Max, a real jerk of a guy. Now she was playing the field, and having a whole lot of fun doing it.
I informed her that I'd been seeing a guy, a businessman. He was a respectable guy except in the bedroom where he liked me to wear flimsy, flirty things. One of his big turn ons was me wearing a garter belt and stockings, which I have to admit I thought was something from my mother's time.
He was always a sweetie but was one who played the field and over our time together we had fun but it wasn't all that serious. Still, he was a sweetie and once helped me out of a real jam with some cash so he was sort of special.
Yes, just two 30 somethings living life.
Jennifer and I have always been close, sharing some of our most personal occurrences. She had once told me about being caught in the act of being bent over and humped by a boyfriend in a stairwell by the mall, while I related a story of being caught in a car with me, er, bobbing my head on his throbbing cock in a Wal-Mart parking lot and we both laughed at our stupid, unaware history.
We left lunch and headed to my house, where we had a couple of glasses of white wine. Out of the blue Jennifer relayed the story about her messing around with a professor to get a grade. "I was flunking psychology, of all things, because I missed a lot of class and didn't do any extra assignments. I just knew I bombed the final, and knew that would fill my GPA."
I begged her to go on as I lit the gas fireplace to heat the room.
"Well, at the local watering hole that night guess who I ran into, Professor Brawley. We exchanged pleasantries and spoke and he asked why I hadn't taken his class seriously. I told him about my bad schedule, my outside work, boyfriend troubles and basically said I just had to pass the course. He informed me that wasn't likely, as even grading on the curve I'd flunked.
"You know the story. I mean, it's not like a girl has never given a blow job for a grade, but I'd never been in that situation. He was standoffish, told me I should have studied, and after a couple glasses of wine I got up the nerve and asked him if I could do some extra credit to pass.
"He looked around the bar, looked back at me, and smiled. He basically said go out the back door of the bar and head left, he'd be waiting. He said a blow job would probably do the trick. I was aghast, but nodded."
I was amazed at the story, looked at her, and asked to hear from happened. She was reluctant at first, but under some begging and egging on she soon continued her story.
"Apparently this wasn't the first nor last time something like this had happened with the Prof. I mean, I went out the door and there must have been five or six people smoking over to the right. But sure enough, down toward the end of the building on the left, was the professor. He was about 10 feet away from another couple who were sucking face. It was quite embarrassing. But I took a deep breath and walked to him.
"I told him it was a little bit crowded, but he told me to pay it no mind. Only get on with my end of the bargain. I balked, he replied he'd give me a C plus and not just pass me, but it had to be now or never.
"Shaking my head, I said okay and began to stroke his cock through his jeans. I tried to block the view of the smokers, but noticed they were looking at the couple a little closer to them. That girl had dropped to her knees and was sucking off the guy with a riveted audience.
"I stroked the Prof's cock and he begged me to take it out, which I did. Soon he was gasping as my stroking intensified. I mean, he was swaying and pounding my hand. I could tell he was enjoying my ministrations.
"Then he told me to suck him and I got onto my haunches and started blowing him right there in the alleyway. I mean, I didn't think twice about it, the surroundings, anything. It was so hot and erotic, and he loved it. He led me work him a couple minutes as I heard the couple next to us finish their activities. The group at the end of the alley clapped at their actions and I knew that now all eyes were on me.
"I heard someone come out of the building and a girl's voice said to look at the slut. I know she meant me and it was so hot. I don't know if it was the drinks but I began working that cock to get him to cum fast so I could get it over with. He on the other hand was loving my mouth action and while I could tell he was pronging the excitement. Still, he couldn't hold off much longer and soon he was shooting in my mouth. He held my head in place so I had to swallow, which I did. And I remember thinking how embarrassing the next couple minutes would be.
"I got up, and he patted me on the ass. Soon we were walking- a walk of shame mind you- to the hoots, hollers and cat calls of the 10 or so guys and gals who watched me give the blow job. Damn. But I got a B minus."
We laughed and laughed and drank another glass of wine at what then was not a laughing matter. I said I was hot for the story, and might have to go upstairs and have my "friend" make an appearance. Jennifer laughed, as we both had admitted having sex with our imaginary boyfriend – the fleshy fake cock – when the need hit us. Life goes on.
I asked if she ever say the professor again, and she told me only in passing. She never had another course with him, and she got over the embarrassment of blowing someone in front of a group of people. After her revelation we had a couple more drinks and were feeling no main. I'd relayed a couple stories in the past to her about my boss- not telling her it was my boss but someone I worked with, and she wanted to know my most embarrassing moment.
One story I never told her was from my stupid younger days when I was busted and did very naughty things to get out of the jam. Uh huh, I was a real bad girl. The drinks that night opened me up, and I relayed a naughty story from younger days, something I'd never told anyone.
In my early 20s I was caught in a drunk driving checkpoint and got a DUI blowing 0.08 on the meter. That was the limit in my state, and it was taken into consideration at court. I got off with a slap on the wrist, a fine, boost in insurance rates and a blemish on my record. It was a total embarrassment for me.
Never again I told myself.
As it was the cop that hauled me in, Clark, was nice, and we actually dated for a couple months. Nothing serious, although we had, well, had sex. He was a player, not a care in the world and a guy who liked to play the field. But he was great conversationalist and cunnilinguist. A lot better, I related, than my current beau.
But life gets in the way of reality. About a year later-spent in an affair with Lin, my boss, I broke up with him when he informed me- while I was sucking his cock – that his wife was pregnant...again. The nerve, in that he expected me to be his personal plaything while was wife was out of commission. Seriously?
I went through a period of despair, breaking up with my married boss and my cop boyfriend as well as his replacement, a guy who was hot and heavy for several weeks then dropped my\e like a hot potato.
Stupidity sometimes comes easy.
Stupid as in spending Friday and Saturday nights partying, usually with some friends. Never a problem, well, until the night Brittany and Tanya each found their own plaything and abruptly left our favorite watering hole. Normally not a problem, except that Tanya was the designated driver. And me, stupid me, thought a couple last drinks for the road weren't a problem.
Two hours later I was pulled over by the local gendarmes, and back into the county lockup I went. There I was placed with a couple other inebriated ladies and two hookers. Not a pleasant fivesome.
Luckily Clark was working that evening and caught wind of my mishap. He got me out of the cell and into an interrogation room. Pissed, he said I blew .13 on the meter and was in deep shit. Crying, I said I couldn't get convicted of aggravated drunk driving, something they charged me with because not only was I weaving but I'd hit several trash cans along the road.
Begging him to help me, he said he'd see what he could do, but that Judge Orner was an ornery bastard who would at best with my record give me 90 days in county jail if not six months. My mind remembered my last foray into the legal system cost me more than $3,500 in legal bills, a doubling of car insurance as well as the embarrassment of it all.
