My story is a bit different than most. I am twenty six years old, physically a little on the slight side, and have a successful career with a large company. My job takes me all over the country and I am no longer married. Maybe that's because I was never home, or maybe it was our different outlook on life that cause our break up.
This weekend would take me to San Diego for three days and I will try something very different. After checking into the hotel, I go upstairs to change. After a quick shower, and a careful shave, I slip into my midnight blue knee length dress. It's not overly sexy, but it should be fine. I slip some low pumps on - I'm not very comfortable in spikes, and head down to the lounge.
I'm glad to see it's not very busy tonight, and I grab a stool at the far end of the bar.
"A Manhattan, please." I say to the bartender as he approaches. He doesn't answer, but acknowledges my order with a nod and spins around. I have found through observation, that I usually only have to buy one drink, the rest are delivered via male admirers. I have never done this before, but tonight I will try to fulfill one of my fantasies.
Before my glass is empty, another shows up, the tender nodding towards the other end of the bar. An older gentleman raises his glass to me, and I return the toast as I mouth a thank you. He appears to be in his sixties, but is pleasant looking, and will do fine for my plans. The second drink he brought over personally, as he sat down and introduced himself.
"My name is Tom Johnson." he said as he held out his hand.
"Hi, my name is Terry."
We talked for an hour, before moving to a secluded booth. As I got off the stool, I looked around, making sure there was no one here who would recognize me. I was paranoid, even though I knew no one would know me. Glancing around, I found myself making eye contact with a young cowboyish kind of guy. There was something about him, maybe it was his youth, or smile, but I had already made my choice for tonight.
As we sat in the dark booth, his hand immediately went to my knee. I quickly removed it, and started talking about work. Soon his hand returned to my leg and I put my hand upon his. I wanted his attention, but it would be under my conditions. As I once again moved his hand, I leaned over and whispered in his ear.
"I'll make you a deal." I started. "If you can keep your hands off me until midnight, I'll give you a blow job." I leaned back and waited for his response. He appeared to be in shock, so I continued.
"I don't normally do this, in fact you'll be the first...I just want to give a stranger head." I placed my hand on his thigh. It took him a moment, but he slowly looked up at me and opened his mouth.
"OK, so how long until midnight?" He said with a grin. It turned out he was a widower, and this was his first outing in over a year. My hand reached the top of his leg, and I found a very hard cock straining against his pants. I couldn't wait much longer, and started to pull his zipper down.
"I think it's midnight...somewhere." I said as he reached for my hand.
"OK, but not here." he said. "Let's go up to my room."
"All right, but remember, all you get is a blow job." I said, relieved that we would have some privacy. The cowboy nodded to me as we walked past him, and out the door. It was a quiet ride up the elevator, and he sat silently on the edge of the bed.
"This would be the first time for me too...ever since...well, you know." he said. I almost felt sorry for him as I pushed him back, and undid his pants. I grabbed a pillow to kneel on, as I took my position on the floor between his feet.
I couldn't believe how nervous I was as I slowly lapped away at his cock. It was very typical in size and shape. I bobbed up and down, feeling the texture of his skin against the roof of my mouth. I knew what made him feel good, and before long, he began to groan. This was it, so I locked my lips around his throbbing head, and pumped furiously with my hand. As soon as I felt the first warm spurt hit my tongue, I sucked and swallowed hard. After a few more spurts, he started to soften. I sucked all I could, then stood to my feet.
"Thanks for the drinks...and everything." I said as I turned to leave.
"Do you have to leave so soon?" he pleaded.
"Yeah, I have a long day tomorrow. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow night."
"No, I have to leave early tomorrow, but I'll be back in a day or two."
"Well, maybe I'll see you then!" I lied, as I slipped out the door.
The next day I attended a conference, but all I could think about was my new passion. I know several girls who hate giving head, but I loved it. The feel, the taste, the smell. I couldn't wait for tonight, so I could practice my new craft.
This time I opted for a full length skirt, and a loose fitting top. I don't have boobs. to speak of. so I keep my top pretty well covered. Taking my usual spot at the end of the bar, the mixologist strolled over.
"Manhattan, right?" he asked, with a big grin.
"Y...yeah, that will be fine." I was amazed he remembered. Hmmm, I wonder if he's married. I began to fantasize about what other kind of drink he could give me. Stop it. This was supposed to be a one time thing, what the hell am I doing? But before I could answer myself, a voice entered my space.
"Hi! Is this seat taken?" I looked over to see a very well dressed black man, with a million dollar smile.
"No...no, sit down!" I stammered. I've heard about black men, but have never ever...yet. It was obvious he was hitting on me, as he kept the drinks flowing. His hand found my knee, right there at the bar, and I fought him off.
"Be nice!" I said to him as he got drunker and braver. I knew I could easily drink this guy under the table.
But he was an octopus, and I had to set down the rules.
"Tell you what, be a good boy for one more drink and I'll give you a reward!" I said softly to him.
"What kind of reward?" he slurred. I leaned close and whispered,
"Well...we will start by going to your room, and I will give you a nice sloppy blow job!" He was already trying to climb down off his stool.
"No, no...one more drinky first." I told him. The agony on his face was priceless. He was thoroughly soused as we headed for the elevators. We got almost to the doors, when Cowboy caught my eye again. Damn, I wonder how long he's been here. And I must look like a slut too.
In the elevator, he kept grabbing for my chest, but I stopped him in his tracks.
"I told you, no touching! One more time, and you're on your own!" I warned. He stood there like a soldier for the rest of the ride up to his floor. He was so drunk, I had to fish the key card out of his pocket. I must admit that I fished a little deeper and longer than I had to, but I had to have a preview.
He fell back on his bed, all but passed out, as I grabbed my pillow and hit my knees. Down here, I could do my thing and stay out of his reach. I unzipped his pants, and worked them and his shorts down around his ankles in one pull. You know what they say about black men? Well, they weren't lying! Even in it's semi soft state, it was bigger than any cock I have ever seen. As I ran my fingers up and down the ebony shaft, it grew. It was immense, at least nine inches long and two inches wide. And his balls were the size of plums. I took my time licking him, as I traced every vein and bump with the tip of my tongue. I became so engrossed in what I was doing, I lost all track of time. Soon, big drops of pre cum oozed out the head, and I lapped them up. I scratched his balls with my fake nails, and he began to quiver. I used both hands and all of my mouth in an effort to milk as much cum out of him as possible. Apparently I did my job too well as he came hard. There was no way I could swallow that much cum. Four spurts completely filled my mouth, but it was only half of his load. The rest cascaded over my fingers, lubing his shaft, which brought forth even more. I don't know how a substance can be both sweet and salty, slippery and sticky all at the same time, but at this point I don't care. After swallowing all I could, I began licking him clean. By the time I was done, he was lightly snoring, so I tip toed out the door and back to my room.
The convention wrapped up on Sunday, and as I walked around, it felt like people were looking at me. I was sure no one recognized me, but one lady caught my eye, as I nodded in her direction. She seemed familiar, but I couldn't place her. Oh well, I work with hundreds of people, and meet hundreds more, after a while, they all start to look the same.
I left early as it was hot and stuffy in the big hall and headed back to my room to relax. I was happy I fulfilled my fantasy, and decided to go down for one last drink. No pun intended. I put on a mini skirt, a silk blouse, and headed out the door.
Taking my usual seat, the bartender came over and placed a Manhattan down in front of me.
"Thanks."
As I scanned the nearly empty bar, I saw him. Cowboy.
"What's he drinking?" I asked the barkeep.
"A Bud Light with a lemon twist. Can you believe that?" he said with a chuckle.
I slid a five across the bar. "Send him another, please." I watched as he sat the glass down on the table and nodded towards me. Cowboy looked over at me, and said something to the bartender, who came right back over to me.
"He wants you to join him, but if you ask me, there's something weird about him." Well, I wasn't about to ask him, I didn't care, as I grabbed my glass and sauntered over to the dark booth.
"Hi!, I'm Terry!" I said as I sat down.
"Hi! My name's Ron. Ron Damonte." Ron. Ron Damonte. Why did that name sound so familiar? He had a nervousness about him, but we soon were immersed in conversation. It was amazing how much we had in common, without giving away any personal secrets. But the thing that got me, was the fact he never hit on me. At one point, he excused himself to go to the rest room, and I was eye level with a large bulge in the front of his jeans. That feeling hit me, and I had to have just one more guy.
When he returned, I gave him five minutes before setting my hand on his thigh. And just like that, he removed it. It seemed we were both playing the same game, and were at a standstill.
"How about we go up to my room, it's a little less crowded." I suggested as another customer sat at the bar.
"I suppose that would be OK, besides I'm getting a little too drunk to be in public." He dropped a ten spot on the table and we staggered out to the elevators.
I didn't want him to feel uncomfortable, so I turned on the TV and kicked back on the bed, making sure to leave him plenty of room. He sat on the edge of the bed, and we started talking again.
"Since you get to sit there and stare at my legs, why don't you drop your pants...to even things up a bit." I suggested. He hesitated for a moment, then bashfully kicked his shoes off, and slid his jeans down.
"How's this?" he asked as he sat back down in his boxers.
