Popping Corks

Walter couldn't take the boredom anymore. It was the last day of the RTS convention at the Horizon Hotel in Washington, D.C., and he couldn't believe that the network had planned another lineup of lousy reality TV and even lousier sitcoms. He couldn't understand why people said TV was where the action was in the entertainment industry.

He didn't want to watch any more television in his room; like Bruce Springsteen said, there were fifty-seven channels and nothing on. In frustration, he threw the remote at the flat-screen TV, almost breaking it in the process. Real smart, he thought to himself; if I broke it, how much would that cost RTS?

He stood up, loosened his tie and stared out the window overlooking the hotel pool. He saw families swimming in that pool, all of them white; Walter found himself wishing he had learned to swim growing up in New York, but his parents didn't have the money for lessons. Swimming, his dad told him, was something white people did.

Walter looked at the happy families and almost wanted to cry. They were enjoying the water. Why couldn't he?

Just then, he noticed a young woman wearing sunglasses and a blue bikini lying down on a lounge chair. She was very beautiful, with long, flowing blonde hair and flawless legs. Walter couldn't stop staring at this gorgeous white girl.

Apparently, she noticed, because she pulled her sunglasses down to reveal warm hazel eyes. She waved directly at Walter, motioning for him to come down.

Walter looked up and down. She had to be looking at someone else, right?, he reasoned.

The blonde began to wave more aggressively at him, pointing to the empty lounge chair next to her. She meant him.

Walter nodded his head no, and made a swimming gesture with his arms.

She mouthed, "Don't worry."

Five minutes later, Walter—still in his blue suit—walked to the patio and sat next to the blonde beauty.

"Hello," she said in a strong Irish accent.

"Hi," said Walter.

She then leaned in close to him.

"I guess you like what you see!"

"Uh, uh..."

"Oh, don't worry," the blonde beauty replied, slapping his thigh. "Nice to meet you. My name's Claire."

"Hi, I'm Walter."

"So, how's things? In town for a visit?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm an executive for RTS, the TV network."

"Oh, that's awesome!" she exclaimed, her eyes brightening. "That must be a cool job!"

"Not as cool as it looks."

"Oh, well," she noted.

"Uh, I assume you're in town for a visit as well?"

"Right," she responded. "I'm here for a wedding. My cousin moved here a few years ago, and she's getting married to an American guy, a doctor."

"Wow," Walter replied. "Uh, may I ask where you're from?"

"I'm from Cork in Ireland."

Walter smiled. "I guessed it was an Irish accent, but I wanted to be sure!"

They both laughed.

"The wedding's still going on, but I decided to leave the reception. I don't drink, and, well...a number of other people are doing so."

Walter raised an eyebrow.

"I know, I know...I'm the only Irish person who doesn't drink, right?"

"Well, you said it," Walter replied, and they laughed again.

"So, I see you're also on the fourth floor?"

"Yes, Room 401."

"Cool! I'm in Room 429."

Walter smiled. "Pretty close."

"Yeah. Hey, tell you what, I'm still a little hungry. How about we go back to your room and order some food?"

"Sounds like a good idea."

--

Walter couldn't believe that he was taking this Irish beauty back to his hotel room. Claire was model-tall, with just a few moles on other otherwise flawless skin. Her dimples were so cute that Walter fought the urge to just reach over and kiss them.

"Oh my," Claire responded when she entered room 401. "Yours is so much bigger than mine."

"Oh, boy. Sorry about that."

"No, that's OK."

She sat down on the bed and crossed her lovely legs.

"Can you pass me the phone?"

As Walter handed her the phone, she leaned over and Walter caught a clear glimpse of her left nipple for a split-second. It made him so hard he could barely stand.

Claire ordered chicken tenders, fries and a Diet Coke, and a grilled chicken sandwich, fries and a regular Coke for Walter. As they waited for the order to arrive, Claire repeatedly touched Walter on the arm and shoulder while talking to him.

"I don't think her marriage will last. Doctors work so hard that there's no time to work on keeping a marriage strong when they get home."

"Well, that's a cynical way of looking at it."

"Well, what can I say?" Claire replied. "I don't give them two years. At least she'll get something out of it, though." She winked. "Have you ever been married?"

"No...there's no time for dating, and plus, most of the good women are taken."

"That's a cynical way of looking at it!"

"I know, right!" Walter laughed.

"You seem like such a nice person—I wouldn't have waved for you to come down if I thought you were a creep!"

"Good to know."

Claire touched him on the thigh.

"Sometimes you can just tell if a person is decent. At least I believe that. Do you?"

"Yeah, I think so."

She touched him again on the thigh.

"You have a great laugh."

"Thank you."

Claire rose and walked towards the window. Walter became even more aroused by the sight of her long blonde hair, which reached her waist.

"Hey, come here."

Walter rose to stand next to her.

"Look at the sunset coming down over the trees...isn't it romantic?"

"Yeah."

She touched his shoulder again.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Room service had arrived.

--

After finishing their meal, Walter and Claire again spoke about the events that brought them to this hotel. Claire had done some modeling in Ireland and had taken a few acting classes; she didn't want to just get by on her looks, but wanted to be a real actress, specifically mentioning Meryl Streep as her role model. Walter couldn't help mentioning that Claire looked like a young Meryl Streep, which caused Claire to smile and squeeze his bicep in thanks.

"Well, speaking of acting, do you want to see what's on AMC?"

"Sure."

Walter grabbed the remote from the floor and flipped through the channels, not bothering to look at the printed guide beneath the TV. Suddenly, he saw an image that shocked him. It was a porn movie, showing a young woman with long blonde hair and big breasts being fucked by a black man in a shower. Walter didn't recognize the video, but the scene was certainly hot, and he was transfixed.

"Hey, that's Lexington Steele," Claire yelled.

"Uh, you know him?"

"Sure! I've seen that before. That's him and Shyla Stylez. He's so handsome. I fucking love him."

Walter didn't know how to react.

"It's hot, isn't it?"

"Uh, uh..."

Claire suddenly sprang from the bed, and put her left hand on his crotch.

"Walter, that's a pretty big cock you have there. Mind if I see it?"

"Uh, uh, no, not at all."

He quickly removed his belt and unzipped his pants, exposing his hardened ten-inch cock. In a slow and sexy manner, Claire dropped to her knees and placed her pink tongue on his dark cock-head, then started to lick with lust. Walter moaned in raw pleasure and Claire continued to suck him and caress his balls. Within minutes, a stream of cum pumped furiously out of Walter's balls into Claire's mouth.

Walter was so drained that he actually fell to his knees, crawling to the bathroom to grab a towel to wipe his cum from her beautiful lips. He noticed that some of his cum had landed on her bikini top, and began to wipe it off.

"No, no," Claire said, stopping him. "Leave it on. It's a souvenir."

She removed her bikini top and bottom, placing both on the floor. Walter stared at her shaved and moist pussy.

"Walter, I want you to fuck me. I want you to put your black cock inside my white pussy."

Walter stood up and embraced Claire, kissing her dimples and running his fingers through her shiny, lovely blonde hair. Claire was an eager lover, groping his black body, licking his earlobe, pinching his ass, playing up the interracial nature of their union. "Come on, Walter," she cried, "keep fucking me with your big black cock! You know you want this white girl! You know you want this white pussy!"

It had been some time since Walter had been with a woman, and he savored every moment with Claire. Indeed, he was transfixed by the idea of fucking a blonde Irish lady, something unthinkable for him growing up. He loved licking her pussy, kissing her hands and feet, playing with her asshole, stroking her inner thighs. He too couldn't help playing up the interracial aspect, asking her, "Do you like this black dick in your white pussy? Tell you me you like this black dick in your white pussy!"

Walter and Claire went at it until there was no energy left in their bodies. They didn't get up until 8:00am the next morning. Walter's plane didn't leave until 5:00pm and Claire didn't plan to fly back to Ireland until a day later, so that left just enough time for a post-breakfast fuck session that included Walter fucking Claire anally, coating her tight asshole with his cum.

Walter gave Claire a deep, soulful kiss before his late checkout. "Thank you for last night," he told her. "I promise I will never forget it."

"Neither will I."

Walter kissed her dimples, her lovely lips and her long blonde hair before saying a final goodbye. Claire then returned to her room, naked except for a hotel towel around her body, a semen-stained bikini in her hand...and memories of a night she would never forget in her mind.