May 17, 2021 // By:analsex // No Comment
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‘They’ say (and just who is the mysterious and omnipotent ‘they’, anyway!?!?) that the most effective pick-up line is one simple word.
‘Hello’ sometimes works in a pinch, so ‘they’ say, but why waste three extra letters and another syllable? Hey, after all, you need to conserve energy for the inevitable carnal activities when such an alacrity in verbosity can be ultimately successful in producing the desired effect. Ya know, at least according to ‘they’.
However, I’m here to tell you that I went all out recently and used an extra word, and who’da thunk it? It worked.
Standing in line at the self-serve check-out line at the grocery store on this sunny Summer Sunday late afternoon, I couldn’t keep my eyes off the attractive middle-aged woman waiting ahead of me. She was wearing a fashionable tennis outfit that perfectly displayed her fine form. Over the years I have met far more interesting women in food markets, fabric stores and garden centers than in bars.
I was in no hurry, admiring the view. A white cotton Polo sleeveless blouse that displayed tanned arms, strong shoulders and a pair of small, firm breasts. A short, black pleated skit with purple trim that delightfully clung to her taut butt cheeks like a kitten on a scratching post. White Adidas sneakers with those cute little anklet socks that serve to accentuate the calves on the hotties. She was pretty in an aristocratic way. Good genes, I thought, from generations of old money.
She kept rocking back and forth on her heels impatiently, to and fro, and with each sway, the curve of her butt sashayed beneath her skirt like a Slinky on a stairway. She turned to look at me, no doubt feeling the laser-like stare that my eyes were boring into her rear end, and as she did, I smelled the distinctive aroma of alcohol on her breath, a sweet wine of some kind, I surmised.
She paused for a second, not sure whether to be repulsed or flattered by my gaze, and apparently she chose the latter, because she smiled at me, flashing perfect white teeth, and batted her deep, blue eyes, eyes that had the playful and appreciative twinkle of a woman who was used to being closely examined by eyes of men like myself. A baseball cap hid what looked to be a lock of golden curls, most of which were tucked tightly beneath the brim, yet a few strands cascaded down and licked her tanned neck. Designer sunglasses were perched on top of the cap.
Her seductive appraisal of me, up and down, scanning the merchandise, so to speak, lingered just long enough to embolden me, and the scent of liquor on her breath gave me my own version of ‘beer muscles’, as I deduced if she had a couple of drinks in her already, perhaps her own sense of flirtatiousness was enhanced.
She turned to face the registers, as she was next in line, and I took the opportunity to lean close to her, so close that my pelvis barely grazed against her mini-skirt-clad ass, and whispered, almost inaudibly, into her right ear.
She stopped rocking on her heels, frozen, as if she couldn’t quite ascertain what she had just heard. There was a register open ahead of her now, but she did not approach it right away, as the patrons behind us in line offered their unsolicited assistance. “Register four is open, lady!”, shouted the fat man with the big box of cupcakes and small tin of cat food in his cart.
She took one hesitant half-step forward before stopping again, and half-turned to glance over her shoulder at me, assessing what, if any, response my comment should evoke. However, I didn’t give her the chance, leaning into her left ear this time, and again whispered, just pronounced enough so that only she could hear, “You heard me. You have a great ass. Now check out so I can check you out some more.” She wobbled to the register rather shakily, nodding her head up and down and mumbling something under her breath in apparent disbelief, clearly off of her game now.
I was walking that fine tightrope between charming ambition and unwanted aggression, and she had apparently decided that charm and ambition were winning, because she bent down much farther than she needed to when she set down her basket, allowing me an unfettered view of the lavender lace thong beneath her skirt.
The view did nothing but reinforce my initial assessment. It was truly a great ass, and she was now taking pride in providing me with an altruistic gesture of her own, continuing to lean forward as she picked items out of her basket with measured posture, bending over deeply at the waist with each reach, her firm buttocks peeking out from the hemline with every bend, as my own below-the-waist appendage began to rise in enthusiastic attention.
I waved Chubby Cupcake Catfood Guy ahead of me, fully content to stay fixed in line behind Ms. (Mrs.?) Lavender Thong, enjoying the show as thoroughly as she seemed to be reveling in my one-track visual immersion of her hind quarters.
She fumbled for her debit card embedded in the far-away nether regions tuzla escort of her small purse (sidebar: it never ceases to amaze me how women seem oblivious to the fact that they may actually have to tender some form of currency or compensation in return for the groceries OR how many things they can fit in a handbag the approximate size of a small zip-lock baggie ), and the card slipped out of her hand and bounced onto the tile floor, landing almost at my feet. She looked up at me with those crystal blue ‘fuck-me’ eyes to see if I was going to be a gentleman and fetch the card for her.
Of course I wasn’t.
She realized it was ‘game on’ now when she saw I remained stationary and she bent in front of me, and smiled almost respectfully at my brazenness, parting her legs enough to give me a new frontal perspective of her thong, as her own face now dipped to crotch-level of my own khaki shorts, and there was absolutely no doubt as to my appreciation. My cock twitched to the right involuntarily as it grew in direct proportion to the proximity of her mouth nearing my zipper. The whole episode took only a few seconds to play itself out, but the equivalent of a thousand words were spoken during the mutual admiration exercise.
“I have the gray Mercedes SUV. I may need some help loading my bags,” she said staring into my eyes as she stood. “And that includes making sure I get them home safely, too.”
I checked out with the speed of a barefoot man walking on hot coals, and shaded my eyes to the sunlight as I reached the parking lot, searching for her vehicle before she changed her mind.
I spotted her as I shielded my eyes with my hand over my forehead. She leered over her shoulder at me seductively as she leaned deeply into the cab of her SUV, placing the grocery bag gingerly onto the seat, while fully exposing the tight tops of her athletic thighs once more. Her thong pinched her pussy lips together and only a thin string of purple fabric peeked through the crevice between her ass and cunt. I strode towards the car with purposeful alacrity. Do you blame me?
She flipped the hatch shut as I approached and peered at me through now sunglass-covered eyes, and asked succinctly, “So you like my ass, huh? That’s fine, but can you kiss?”
With those three words, she succeeded in catching me off-guard, regaining control of the situation momentarily, at least.
“Wha….? I mean…, uh, I………..” She interrupted my stammering by grabbing the back of my head with a surprisingly firm resolve and placed her red full lips on mine right there in the lot, snaking a warm, wet tongue into my mouth. The kiss lasted about fifteen seconds, as our bodies ground into each other’s slightly, gradually, subtly, but long enough for me to discernibly detect the distinct heat of her mound rubbing through our respective clothes’ fabric, and against my stiff shaft.
She released our surprise introductory kiss as quickly as she had initiated it, and stepped back, licking her lips, satisfied. “Mmmm, yum, yes, you can kiss, allright.” I rocked back on my own heels now, captivated, aroused, spellbound, the ‘worm of control’ having definitely turned in her favor.
She walked toward her driver’s side door. “I never invite a man to my house until I find out if he can kiss first.” She hopped in and rolled down the window. “Follow me. Two-Twenty-Five Lantern Lane if you lose me. We’ll put some steaks on the grill.”
She fired up the engine, essentially daring me to catch up, and winked at me before pulling out in a squeal. “Or something.”
I never came close to catching up with her from the minute she disappeared from the lot, nor did she make even a feeble attempt at waiting on me. Fortunately, though, I knew exactly where Lantern Lane was, so I didn’t need to set the GPS to the coordinates of “Great Ass and Hot Kisser.” Her Mercedes was in the driveway of a mini-mansion as I pulled my Jeep behind it and made the long trek up the impressive imprinted concrete driveway, noticing the swimming pool and tennis court in the huge back yard. A friendly Golden Retriever came barking towards me, sniffing my still semi-erect crotch in curious greeting.
I heard a window open on the second floor and looked up to see her encased in only a towel. The dog must have detected my cock growing immediately to full mast as it jumped up and placed its paws directly on my dick, wagging its tail happily, drool spilling from its jaws.
“I see you’ve met Shadow,” Great Ass yelled down from the window. “She’s very playful, she loves men!” It dawned on me that I now knew her dog’s name, but not her own. “There’s chardonnay in the wine closet in the den downstairs. Make yourself at home, I’m going to take a shower and I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
I walked inside with my ‘Shadow’ living up to her name, sniffing and snorting and hopping in glee, thrilled with her new playmate, me.
“Wine closet, swimming pool, and tennis court,” I sighed to myself. “Hell, I have a six-pack of Miller Lite, a bathtub, and a set of barbells.”
Then tuzla escort bayan I looked down and remembered my most popular asset, at least as far as the ladies were concerned, and immediately felt at ease. Things would be just fine, I had exactly what she needed, what money couldn’t buy, an eight-inch gift of nature. I picked out a nice Clos Du Bois, already chilled, and plunked myself down on the plush couch, and reached for what looked like a yearbook on the oak coffee table.
I sipped the wine and plopped the book on my lap, gently pushing aside Shadow, who had drooled saliva on my crotch. “I hope that isn’t the only saliva that soaks my short,” I thought wistfully.
It wasn’t a yearbook, but rather the cover was tastefully embroidered and cursive letters spelled out, “Suzanne Peoples’ Modeling Portfolio”. I perused the pages and got lost in time, sincerely admiring first the tasteful and classy photos of my new friend Suzanne in various designer wardrobes and evening gowns, and soon becoming mesmerized and irrevocably aroused when finding the pages that illustrated Suzanne in sexy bikinis and then expensive lingerie.
“I see you found something you like, it appears?” Her voice startled both Shadow and me. She reacted by yipping and I reacted by my jaw dropping.
Suzanne had changed. White shorts had replaced the tennis skirt—very short and very tight. A different sleeveless blouse, cranberry-colored, complemented the shorts. There was obviously no bra and no need for one. Two pearl-hard nipples poked through the sheer material of the blouse, and her curly blonde, disheveled hair sat on her head, looking like Simba’s mane, the lion cub from the Lion King.
“As much as I enjoyed the portfolio, I enjoy the present view even more, Suzanne,” I replied, moving the book aside, showing her my throbbing dick, threatening to bust through the seam of my shorts.
“Call me Suzy,” she said, moving her hands up and down over her body now. She unfastened the side snap and zipper on her shorts. She slid them down over that astounding behind that had first grabbed my attention and kicked them away. She then had her top removed in seconds.
She stood in front of me in her splendor, yet I couldn’t help but ask, my curiosity always getting the best of me. “Do you always keep your modeling portfolio out on your coffee table?”
She turned around, seeming to be getting off herself by letting me examine her naked, glorious body. “I had a friend over last night and we were looking at it. Together.” She bent slightly at the waist, much as she did inside of the grocery store. “Why, nosy?”
I rubbed my chin as if studying a beautiful portrait, which in a way, I was. I continued my inquisition, because, much like a good lawyer, I was pretty sure I knew the answer, and I was almost as sure that her answer would get her even hotter. “This friend of yours..did you fuck him last night after enjoying your pictures……together?”
She smiled at me, intuitively on the same wave length as myself and began to pinch and tweak her nipples, rolling them in between her respective thumbs and index fingers. “Oh, yeah. Yes, I did.”
My cock flapped like a screen door in a hurricane, which did not go unnoticed by Suzy. Her nipple’s hardness now rivaled that of my cock, but she waved her arms, effectively dismissing and ending my line of questioning. It was distracting her from the task at hand, after all. And then she added her closing statement. “And I fucked him this morning, too.” Serves me right for pressing the issue.
She eased back onto the recliner across from the couch and asked, “So, would you mind terribly if I didn’t ask your name just yet?”
Mum’s the word, I thought.
“You see, it’s always been a fantasy of mine to seduce a stranger.” She placed one long leg over the armrest and began to leisurely part her labia and rub her folds.
Suzanne was a very attractive woman; naked, legs spread, sitting a few feet away from me and masturbating, she was ravishingly, erotically, impossibly sexy. She was already very wet and I honored her show by extracting my own shaft from the prison of my shorts and began to stroke myself, trying hard to have a semblance of decorum and self-control so that I didn’t shoot onto the modeling book, still sitting next to my leg. I next removed my shirt so that from the ankles up, mercifully, I was naked. The sandals could wait a bit. (Don’t women always say they love to see a man in only sandals? Or is that men saying that about women wearing only heels? Damn, I can never think straight with a hard-on….)
As she moaned seductively she applied her best finger-fucking efforts to her delightfully shaved little quim. I took copious mental notes for later, watching her pleasure herself. Her self-strokes were light, she was barely touching her clit, yet to my pleasant surprise she came in seconds, hard, her cum dripping down her thighs into her ass crack, lubing her anus with natural juice. Another mental note for later.
She crawled escort tuzla towards me like a preying cheetah, her eyes like a heat-seeking missile latched onto my dick, and she took it into her hand and rubbed the already leaky pre-cum onto her cheek. “Mmmm, you have what I call a ‘face’ cock,” she purred.
I raised my palms upward in the universal “What the fuck does that mean?” gesture.
She placed her own palm on the bottom of my shaft, just below the cockhead, and pushed it against my stomach, and it extended to my belly button as she lowered her own pretty face and rubbed it along the length of my swollen shaft, from her chin to her forehead, occasionally giving her face a little love smack with my cock. “It’s as fucking long as my face, it’s beautiful, huge!”
Um, I must confess, I had hoped that she and I would hit it off but was very surprised at how quickly THIS had occurred, this was a new record.
Suzanne lifted her body up so that her torso was next to my own. She crushed her pert breasts against my chest and began to hungrily kiss me with a sense of passion, yet with no undue urgency. It was clear that she liked things slow. That’s fine, I can do slow. She leaned forward and pushed her warm mound into my crotch, and just as quickly, retreated, teasing now, and curled her face down to cock-level once again.
“I want to suck this gorgeous monster cock now, Mr. Stranger.” She began to lick up the side of my twitching shaft, her soft blonde curls tickling my dick unwittingly. “Permission granted?”
I nodded my consent, spreading my legs wider to give her easier access. Surprisingly, it wasn’t a very difficult decision.
“Good, now shut the fuck up and let me enjoy my new toy. Please.” Let the games begin, by all means.
Just before she began to ooze her lips down onto my member, she lifted her head up, continuing the tease, but paying me a compliment all at the same time. “I have to tell you, when you had the balls to tell me I had a great ass, I figured you had to have a big cock to back it up. And, boy, you sure do, you bastard. I love a man who has the confidence to tell me exactly what he’s thinking about me, it really fucking turns me on. So, lucky me. Lucky you. Now, here’s one of your rewards.”
The blowjob she gave me was rated five stars by the Mobil Travel and Blowjob Guide; a perfect ten by even the notoriously grumpy Bulgarian figure-skating judge; two cocks up by Siskel and Ebert; Cooperstown-Hall-of-Fame-worthy; graded A-plus-plus-plus by any biology or sex ed teacher on the planet. Get the gist?
She sucked my cock like she was trying to melt a polar icicle with her mouth. She sucked my cock like she was trying to swallow the top end of a baseball bat. She apparently tried hard to choke herself on my fat prick, mews of pleasure escaping her mouth as she glided up and down my thick shaft.
It was a world-class BJ, and my allegedly famous stamina conceded to her talented mouth in about three minutes. It was a first-round technical knockout of my cum, which ended up smeared on her lips and tongue, and coated her belly, as she swallowed every last drop and dribble.
To express my sincere gratitude, it was only fair and proper to provide the appropriate level of reciprocity, so I laid her magnificent torso down on the couch, and began to administer my own manual administrations to her. I’ve ben told, once or twice, that I grade pretty fair-to-middling myself when it comes to finger-fucking.
You see, the reason I so love to finger fuck a woman, besides the obvious ecstasy it brings to them, is you can genuinely explore and watch the reaction of the recipient so that you can later maneuver both your tongue and cock to their most sensitive and responsive private spots. I love to manually find a woman’s ‘fun buttons’ as I call them, and Suzanne had quite an inventory stored in her cunt and anus as I discovered when I went finger-spelunking inside of her deepest caverns.
She had one long leg over the headrest of the couch and the other spread out as far as possible so that her foot reached the floor. I first ran my hands ever so lightly down her flat stomach. I gently put my hand between her shapely thighs, already parted so willingly for me, and caressed her inner thigh as one finger traced up and down the exterior of her lips, so softly and gently, her excitement building with every touch. With my other hand, I reached for her own hands, which were grasping the pillows on the couch, and brought them to her nipples so that she could tug on them herself at her own pace. She murmured her approval.
“Closest way to a girl’s heart is through her nipples, I always say.”
Content now that she could pleasure herself above-the-waist as I enjoyed the erotic view, I next soon found the wonderfully smooth, slick slit between her legs, and began to greedily explore with my middle and ring fingers curled up inside, and began to wiggle them inside of her, creating a vibrating sensation. With my pinkie on one side and my thumb and index finger on the other side of the outside of her vaginal walls, my hand looked like the famous “Surf’s Up!” Hawaiian hand gesture, only this time my fingers were creating waves of pre-orgasmic spasms inside of her sopping cunt.
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