Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Room Service...

She said she might be quite late if she came at all, so I of course was sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for the front desk to announce a visitor. Not really of course. I trolled the bar, looking for anything likely. Didn't see anything promising and found myself glancing towards the lobby often. I have to admit I had chosen my table in the bar for its view of her potential approach. Silly really. Like the Svengi (sp?) brothers waiting for their dates to come back from 'obtaining condoms from the park ranger at the Statue of Liberty...

I had even mentioned to the front desk that I was expecting a friend and that I was in the bar leaving my room number. I had zero on her. Didn't even get a name much less a number. She had no way to contact me except to show up at my hotel and call up to my room. Damn! I thought what if she calls first!

Back to the desk mentioning that they should page me in the bar if anyone calls for room 1234. Felt like an idiot. How late is late I wondered. I didn't dare scope out any of the nearby bars lest I miss her. Silly and not at all like me. She smelled really good though. Not a cologne or perfume. Something like a scented lotion or maybe a shampoo mingled with her. I wasn't positive I would recognize her with say a different hairstyle, but the scent was locked in. Funny how when it twangs that way it is indelible.

I finally gave up at 9:30 when the crowd thinned to just me and the bartender. (Not Ned, different town.) I plunked myself on the bed. I channel browsed, read the porno descriptions. Does anyone still order those in the age of the internet? I considered browsing something naughty online, but ended up settling for Telemundo. Highly under-rated channel. Great bodies, vivacious smiles, over the top expressions. Its quite entertaining. She wasn't Latina but had a Mediterranean feel to her look in the eyes. Maybe Italian, Greek, like that.

I eventually found I was drifting off, so I turned of the Spanish-speaking lovelies and turned in.  I had a vivid dream where she was furtively tap-tap-taping at my door dressed in just a trench coat and lingerie. (recurring fantasy of mine) She had just about given up when I realized someone WAS tapping on my door. The clock said 12:48. I leaped out of bed and stumbled to the door, grabbing my pants and putting them on like Sancho headed for the back door. I opened it and there she was. Dressed more or less like she was in the store, but carrying a large handbag.

Deer-in-the-headlights nervous. "Come in, Come in.." She smiled nervously and came in...

"I bet you didn't think I'd show.."

"Well I had no idea but I had hoped you would!"

She explained herself in a rush that I barely followed. I kept a smile on my face and nodded at what seemd the right moments. It seems that 'she never does this sort of thing' then amended to make it clear that she wasn't at all sure she was going to "you know.." I did indeed know.

I let her run. She was a little adrenaline fueled, explained she had stopped by to drop 'lunch' to her hubby's night-shift job. She thinks he knows she does it partly to see him partly to check up on him. He apparently needs checking up on...naughty boy. I'm not one to talk so I say nothing.

Apparently he got a little hands-y, she thinks sensing her 'feeling frisky' but of course not knowing what brought it on, then she remembered she had worn the stockings under her slacks, and was worried in their groping he'd notice...not sure she could explain it away as a surprise for him...

"Oh really? I said snapping a quick peek inside her wasitband... that earned me a slap on the wrist. Literally but figuratively too, it was a playful slap

"In a minute." she said. Minutes I could probably wait. Not much longer though.

She reached into her beach bag looking purse and pulled out a pair of black heels. Viewed from the back they would look like slightly thick stilettos, but from the side they were a little clunkier. My guess is it is her special occasion all purpose sexy heels. Kind of nice to be a special occasion, so for her I loved them.

"I had a vague idea of slipping these on, but I realized I have to get the pants off, and I am suddenly embarrassed. I can't see any graceful way to model this little outfit."


I held up a finger and led her to the bathroom. I grabbed the robe off the back of the door and handed it to her. "How about you change here...slip on the robe...come out and we'll talk a while and you'll either lose the robe, or you won't."

"Oh, you're good." she said. I was a little proud of myself.

She was in there a while...she came out smelling great still, but with a background of alcohol. Hairspray I think from the look of her freshened hair style. A little heavier on the eyeshadow. Definately longer lashes...she batted them at me. "Ok this is fun."

"Good, it should be." I said.

I flipped on the TV and of course it was on Telemundo. Some Mexican soap opera, high drama, over acting. Perfect. "You see? This here is SO not dramatic!"

She giggled and asked If I spoke Spanish. "Nope."  I said.

"Me neither" she said, but you can sort of get what they are saying.

"Think of it like pantomine."

Anyway we bantered like that a bit until she announced..."I'm ready."

"Oh?" I let her make a move. She was a skittish colt.

She moved with confidence towards the door and did a passable pirroette. She strode towards me until she was clearly in view and stopped. She undid the belt uncemermoniously and let it fall open. Black 'undershorts' withe red lacy trim came into view. She shrugged the robe to the floow and stood there, hands on hips.

She affected a runway walk towards me never flinching from eye-contact. I took it all in but held her gaze. she stopped turned, presented her really shapely backside for inspection and walked back towards the door. turning once again, she said. "I know you said you liked the purple, but I feel sexier in this."

"Oh I am by no means dissapointed..."

"I'm glad you like it." and she strolled back stopping at arms reach. I pulled her in close. She smelled even better up close and personal..lotion or maybe bodywash I think because it was so nicely noticeable on her neck under the scent of her hair.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Tag you are it...

Although I do find I look for the vulnerable like any predator, sometimes its just opening your mouth and seeing what happens. Just like sales. Follow up on more leads and you'll have more contacts, more contacts means more sales pitches, you pitch more you sell more.

I was standing behind a woman at a Walgreen's where I was picking up some forgotten sundries, a package of  razors, a comb, like that. I noticed her deep purple bra was showing in the back a little as the blouse scooped a little low. The tag was sticking up out of the blouse.

I put my hand gently on her shoulder and said "excuse me." As she started to turn, I said, "Wait, hold on like that," and tucked the tag under the band of her bra.

She turned around and said, Thanks!" with a minor blush I thought.

"No problem. I figured you hadn't intended to advertise your bra size!" I said with a grin.

"Oh, did you read it?" (I had of course, 34b, she was a little thing, I always like them on the elfin size.)

"Of course not, but I will say Victoria's Secret makes some quality lingerie....."

Now she did blush deeply. Determined not to be embarrassed into the losing hand in the conversation, she recovered quickly. "Yes, I like that I can get such a wide variety of undershorts to match my bras."

I thought 'undershorts' sounded odd somehow. "So are you telling me you are wearing purple undershorts?"

"Indeed."

"Purple panties happen to be my very favorite!" I exclaimed. "Wait, you aren't just teasing are you?'

"Well...." she drawled  "I am not just teasin' but teasin' is half the fun isn't it?"

I'm not usually at a loss for words, but I kind of got lost in reverie as I mentally stripped her down to her matchy-match bra and panty set. I added thigh high stockings and a pair of kinky heels. Yes, unlikely since she was wearing snug-fitting jeans and I could see her canvas tennis shoes, but one can dream.

I must have gotten that thousand yard stare because she waved a hand in front of my face, and said, "Hello, you still in there?"

I laughed and admitted more or less what I was visualizing. Including my embellishment of the stockings..she laughed at that. The clerk was trying to act like he wasn't paying any attention. It was her turn and he checked out her few items. I told her..."Wait! I need to get one more thing.." as she finished her payment and smiled in acknowledgment to the clerk. "I'll be just a minute," as I looked over my shoulder..she paused by the door and waited.

I hurried to the L'eggs section. (what happened to the giant Easter eggs they used to come in by the way?) I grabbed a pair of black stay-up thigh highs. I rushed to the counter and paid for my stuff.

In the light of the overhang, I handed her the stockings. "Here." You were wearing these in my imagination.

She busted out laughing. "You have SOME imagination!"

"Oh, you have no idea." I said..."Not sure how they would look with tennis shoes, but you interrupted me before I got around to imagining the shoes!" (A patent lie as I had clearly seen purple stiletto pumps in the same shade as the bra.)

She said, well I have an idea...and led me over to her car. Taurus or Sable I think. She opened the trunk having me hold her purchases. She rustled through the trunk and came up with a pair of heeled sandals in gold.

"Oh, that image is going to keep me company in my lonely hotel room tonight!"

"Just the image?" she flirted.."You weren't going to ask me to model the stockings?"

Wow...this was going better than expected..better than ever for an off-handed lay-up..

She got my information, hotel, room, etc...."It will be pretty late..is that OK?"

I told her I'll be pleased to see her when ever.

Sunday, May 23, 2010

Abusing his wife, but not his trust.....

...SO I asked her if he is turned on by the idea of her submitting in a masochistic way. Kathy says Larry likes watching some of her favorite S&M clips, but isn;t sure if he could handle her crying out like that. "What about after the fact?"

"I think it would be a huge turn on to know I got off in such a kinky way, he just can;t handle it in the moment."

"So we shouldn;t put him on speaker and let him listen in? I said with an evil grin...

"Oh, GOD, no!"  she said in mock horror. Then with a sly grin.."That would really get me going though. If I was sure he could handle it, I SO would!"

I put an arm around her middle and posed her, rump in the air, face planted against the mattress since her hands were unavailable to support her since they were tightly bound. I decided maybe too tightly and fiddled with them a bit to make them tight enough, but not tournequtette tight. The delay gave her time to think about it. I grabbed my pants off the floor and moving into her line of sight I slidd my belt out of the loops.

"Oh, god...she said in a tiny voice.....I'm not sure I can handle a belt....."

"Of course you can!" I announced cheerfully. "Its all a matter of working up to it....but I wasn't planning on using it for that.." I put it around her waist and buckled it in the back. No particular reason I was improvising. I ran a second tie around the one her wrists were tied together with and then used it to fasten to the belt. It didn't really affect her range of movement but I wanted her thinking about some elaborate bondage scene. I grabbed my third and last necktie and tied it fist to an ankle then bending her leg up I tied it to the belt. I looked around and decided I could improvise with her bra. I made a loop by slipping the little metal clasp through a bra strap and cinched it on an ankle. I awkwardly attached it to the belt as well.

I know it sounds rather unnecessarily complicated, and it was. But it had her quivering in anticipation.

"Comfy?" I asked

"Not at all," she replyed with a grin that faded fast when I brought a hand down hard on the nicest little apple shaped rear end you ever saw. I could see my handprint so you know it stung....

"GOD!" she said, and her face shone...

I responded with some much lesser swats...little warm-up-her-ass pats....getting progressively harder.

"So Larry doesn't get a hard-on spanking your sweet little ass? What a shame!"

I gave her a couple of swats in unexpected places, just 'missing' the apparent targets...a swat on her bare leg got me a squeal of pain, and a 'missed' swat that hit the unpadded lower back gave off a groan....

"It get's me hard, " I announced matter-of-factly as I tipped her over from her awkward pose and grabbed a handful of hair. Guiding her face to my crotch I said, "See what you did?" Shee couldn;t answer my query though with more than a muffled gurgle as I pushed her trully pretty face up and down on my shaft...carefull not to go too deep but definately face-fucking her helpless form.

I used to feel a little perverted liking the rough stuff until I realized there are little sluts who like it even more than I do. "You don't mind if I call you a slut, do you Kathy?" She had that glazed look on her face that a pain slut once described to me as 'being in her sub space'. It looked good on her. She nodded. "I prefer you articulate that, Kathy."

Puzzled look.

"Say it for me, I'm your little slut tonight."

"Oh yes," she said quickly and with great enthusiasm. "I am YOUR little slut tonight." her added emphasis made it just powerfully real.

"Is there anything I can't do to you, anything you won't do for me?"

"Nothing." she breathed.

"I think I'm ready to fuck you again.." I announced conversationaly as I awkwardly got her up on a couple of knees ans her face forming the three points of a plane. Her ass was a little low to comfortably fuck her standing, and I wished for an adjustable bed...someone should make those...adjust-a-height beds TM Fernando 2010.

I was able to lower my cock by widening my stance and gripping the belt I half picked her up and basically pushed her onto my cock..."What a nice, juicy cunt you have."

I was testing the language..I saw her wince a little at that..."Does that bother you? me calling that preciously tasty pussy of yours a cunt?"

"No I liked it and felt bad a little for liking it.."

"Well then I'll leave it out of the Thank You card. You know, Dear Larry, Thanks for the use of your wife's tight little cunt."

She laughed at that.

"Use it in a sentence." I encouraged.

"You are fucking.." pause as I slammed it home "..my cunt..." another thrust "...so good!" 

I knew I wasn't going to last very long...I made my best attempt at a pretty athletic pace...thrusting it home hard and deep each time...fucking seems such a relevant word when it is animalistic like this. My goal was her obvious discomfort when she got home, and I was bound and determined to do so if I had to resort for fingers. I backed off a little and pulled out for a moment to let little fernando catch his breath.

I pressed a thumb to her little pink rose-bud and told her what a fuckable ass she has. "Do you let Larry fuck your pretty little ass?"

"Sometimes." she said kind of shyly

"When he's been a very good boy?"

"No when I'm feeling like a very bad girl.." As I worked a thumb in she had responded by bearing down and I had it buried in her and curved up like a hook...I lifted her up a little by her ass..."Are you gonna....?" she wondered.

"No, I think We'll leave something for Larry to fuck in case the rest of you is too sore.." I teased. I undid the belt and removed the ties...she worked her wrists and fingers around a little getting circulation....

I pushed her to her knees before the bed and sat...guiding her head by a handfull of hair again, I 'forced' her up and down a couple of times..."Your face is very fuck-able too, Kathy." I opinioned. "You know what I like best about head?"

She just kind of waited for the response. "I always thought of a cock as kind of dirty, and seeing it violating a delicate woman's face is kind of wrong in a way that really gets me going. The face of a really pretty girl like you on my cock really gets me going."

I started 'forcing' her onto my cock some more. she was both active in the sense of swirling and licking and suckling on the way, and passive in letting me control the pace and depth. I was basically masturbating using her face. It was very very erotic in a control sort of way. I tested her limits and found I could get it to the back of her throat if I timed it right and was quick. Too long and she gagged a bit. I liked that and was a little ashamed at the perverse thrill of making this pretty little wife gag on my cock. Not ashamed enough to stop. I started tring to make her gag a little. I just about lost it when I saw her bravely staying with it with tears starting from the corners of her eyes. That was amazingly hot. I threw her to the bed, spread those beautiful legs on either side of my shoulders and fucked her to a furious (and fairly quick) cresendo. This was orgasm two for me. As I was enjoying her enjoyment of being my little fuck-toy for the night I hadn;t really considered hers. I was aware of spasms and arches and crys at times so I could tell she had several, but I wasn;t counting or really trying for her pleasure as I normally would. Men are great scorekeepers. This time I was selfish and that seemd to be just what she wanted.

In between sessions when I was too spent to have a prayer of fucking her, I did indeed finger-fuck her. There's this technique  I read about some time ago and have tried to good results with several women. It is supposed to be squirt-inducing, which seems to vary by the girl, but basically you hook a couple of fingers into their pussy and up into their g-spot then grabbing that wrist with your other hand you violently pull up and release repeatedly...she was wet enough its hard to tell where it was all coming from but she squealed and bucked and came hard repeatedly from that. She actually grabbed a corner of the pillow and bit down in it and gave the most exciting muffled screams.

In the morning I hogged the bathroom a bit while she scarfed down some breakfast. (I had 'made' her let in room service wearing nothing but my shirt as I hid out in the bathroom shaving.) She needed to 'fix herself up' she said but I told her she looked beautiful as she was and told her we haven't time for fresh make-up. I cleaned her face bare of her smudged remnants with a warm washcloth and then bent her over the bathroom counter and fucked her in front of the mirror. I drove her home before my morning meeting with nothing but a rosy glow on her cheeks (both sets) and a just-fucked smile on her lips.

I think you guys are ready....

..is how I closed the deal with Larry. After they twirled around the floor for a song, she brought him back to the table, clearly the one leading him. He wasn't THAT bad a dancer. Helps that Kathy is extremely light on her feet, literally light as well. I separated them again suggesting to Kathy.."Why don;t you make a quick trip to the ladies room before we head out." She looked at me a long look, took in the meaning and gave hubby a squeeze and a peck on the cheek and skipped out.

Larry drew up full height in his chair and started to ask questions. He said that he wasn;t sure how this would proceed but he kind of figured that it would be more of a three-some situation that could evolve into a dating situation. I explained that she is going to be looking over her shoulder too much and wondering how he is taking it to really let loose and have a truly uninhibited time. He thought that made sense. I told him I'm not particularly shy and would welcome a more active role for him, but for getting-to-know-you I thought in their case one on one might be best.

I asked what he would need to feel comfortable, does he want her to check in at a certain time? Pick her up? Me drop her off? He mentioned she is quite the cuddler and it would be more "storybook" (his term I liked it!) for her if she could spend the night. Score...I could hardly believe my good fortune. It was only like 9:30 by this point I had that pretty little blond cheerleader to myself for all night? wow.

I shook his hand our business concluded. What a trade his wife for, well nothing on my part. It's good to be in the role of a bull!

I lurked near the bathrooms and caught Kathy as she poked her head out. I pulled her into a little alcove where the phones are and pressed her tiny body against me and gave her a deep getting-to-know you kiss.

She giggled about it being weird making out with another man with her husband in the next room. "Oh, I sent him on home." I said.  Long look, and a shy smile.

"Shall we go?" I said holding out my arm. She slipped her small soft hand around my elbow and I led her to the big rental Lincoln. She laughed when we drove out of the parking lot and went across the street and pulled around the back of the Raddison. "I just wanted to show off the car." Another giggle. "Its a rental." big laugh...I could listen to that all night.

In the back door with my key card, then up to the lobby elevators. I could have gone the other way, but I sort of wanted to show off my prize to the desk clerk (as if he or she would notice or care.) It was a she and she didn't even look up. As we waited on the elevator though a man had come out of the bar, given her a discreet once-over and was with us in the elevator till he got off on the third floor.

SHe asked me what I thought he would think. Would he have assumed she was my wife?  I told her he probably figured her for a very expensive call-girl. That elicited peals of laughter and released the tension that I had snensed.

Into 'our' room and I had her mostly disrobed before I plopped her on the bed. No preamble, no shy fumbling. I wanted to take her and she couldn't wait to be 'had'. Kissing and fondling that taut smooth flesh. She is a little younger than I but at that age when women start to wonder about youth slipping away. She was in remarkable shape. Clothed she looked the part of the well-exercised well groomed, well-dressed wife. Naked she looked barely twenty. Barely a jiggle, smooth supple. she shivered and writhed to gentle touches as I marveled at my good fortune. Goosebumps trailed in the wake of my fingertips.

At some point she pointed out the relative disparity in our clothed / unclothed state. She naked and I had merely had a couple of buttons undone on my shirt. I started unbuttoning my shirt and she dropped to the floor and attached my belt and zipper...she with surprising ferocity unleashed my member and hungrily attacked it with expert abandon. She was all lips and warm wet mouth and tongue and hands. Her little hands were busy. She acted as if there was a prize for efficient fellatio. I was sure she was going to cause it to go off, and worried a little about that. I had all night and was quite sure I could rise to the occasion again, but I wanted to make a good studly impression.

 I pulled her up to her feet and kissed those eager lips of hers as I struggled out of the waddling mess of pants and briefs. Free of them at last I reached down and got rid of the socks. Naked men look silly in my opinion. Naked men in socks are worse.

I trailed my kisses down her flat belly, lingered on a jutting hipbone and delved and lapped into one of the sweetest little pussies I think I have ever tasted. Or so it seemed at the time. At first it was smooth and firm and closed to my explorations but as I teased and lapped and gently fingered its petals opened and she was clearly very very wet. Ever noticed how the more moisture they produce the more subtle the fragrance? It was really responsive to my touch and tickle...little nibbles here and there. I'd hit 'just that spot' and she'd arch up off the bed. Sometimes she'd almost leap away...I couldn't wait to feel that snug around my cock. So I didn't!

I was just getting my cock into position after awkwardly getting the condom out and getting it rolled down. I held myself up off the bed above her and I swear it felt like she reached out and drew me in. I just found the entrance and in. I was sheathed to my full impressive gargantuan proportions in one smooth delicious stroke. All 7ish inches. On the other hand this girl had me pretty engorged, Might've been 7.5.

I stroked and pounded and slapped into her with abandon. Her knees came up, her legs spread impossibly wide. Eventually I had her by the ankles pulling her legs apart like a wishbone. I FELT studly. I felt like I was fucking her in half. I felt powerful. I felt I was going to come. So I did. One of those throbbing orgasms where you feel a pulse, then another and then it feels like you are draining the last drop of cum you are going to make for like a week.

I have no idea how long I lasted, but it did';t feel like I set any records. My male ego became fragile at that moment, wanting some sort of reassurance, some comparison..."Your cock is so HUGE!" or "Wow, Larry never fucks me with such vigor!"

I knew from past experience that this is the moment they have self doubts themselves about doing this even with hubby's encouragement. SO I just said something to the effect that "Larry is a very blessed man" or some such. She smiled contently and said "We both are. we are really good together."

So, I wondered, and asked...."So, what inspired you and Larry to seek a little recreation for you?"

She bit her lip, became pensive and explained. "Larry is a big guy and sometimes he acts like he might break me."

"Big like...?" (I had to ask...I know I know...don't ask a question you don;t already have an idea of the answer...)

She snuggled into me..."No, silly not like that...in fact you are probably a little bigger that way...." (she DOES have experience with the fragile male ego it would seem..) This earned her a pat on her cute but wise blond head.

She went on to explain that he worries about squashing her when he is on top. She likes it on top (I can't wait for the sight of her bouncing above me..maybe wielding pom-poms. shouting a cheer....oops lost in reverie...) but doesnt mind being pinned and helpless. She says she loves it doggie style but she can't get him to really pound it into her. "And the spanking."

"What about that?" I asked..."You do have a pretty spankable ass." I added helpfully.

"He thinks so to, and he'll do it playfully but he never really puts his arm into it, even when I tell him that harder is OK. He knows I like it and want more but he just can't."

"Oh, you SO should not have told me that......" I said in my best ominous tone....

"Why is that?" she said as I went over to the open closet area and selected a cheaper neck-tie.

"Because you have just found yourself in the lair of a closet Sadist!" I said. She giggled as I directed her to turn over and wrenched her wrists together and bound them tight.

"That's really tight!" she said.

I let out the very same maniacal laughter as I am right now as I leave you hanging for the next installment of my exploration of Kathy.

Friday, May 21, 2010

Prying Kathy from Larry...

Contrary to stereotype, Larry the prospective cuckold was far from wimpy and definitely the assertive one in the couple. "Their" ad read in what I presume is his voice and I doubt the gorgeous and seemingly shy Kathy had much to do with writing it. This was my impression prior to meeting them and such dynamics do not normally bode well for the prospects of the 'Bull'. Still, I was intrigued by the implication that they were venturing out for the first time. It didn't read as a swinger ad offering to swap partners or as a couple reaching out for a third. I don't remember how it was phrased but it was in the vein of looking for someone to bring out her wild side. That I can do.

I contacted them. The response was in "We" and "Us" but again I didn't sense the flavor of her participation. There is a LOT of that in MW4M ads. Most are transparently masturbatory fantasies. Guys that want to hear what you would do with or more likely to their wives, but not at all sure how this assignation would occur. Normally I wouldn't bother but for a couple of details he included that sounded as if he had at least discussed it with her. He said that she was flexible in her requirements about the guy and just wanted to insure a fun, safe, clean experience. Mentioning that condoms are a must should go without saying, but the fact that they had taken those sorts of things into account suggested intent to follow through. Or at least that was what I was pinning my hopes on.

I sent them a picture and as always was careful to not exaggerate my biometrics. I am sure if I had told them I am 6'4" and a former linebacker it might fuel some fantasies, but its important you measure up to expectations. They are one of those Mutt and Jeff couples where in the picture (faces obscured) they posted, she is dwarfed by him. Not sure if she was that tiny or whether he was NBA material. The picture they sent in response to mine was just her. The shy expression on her face told me she had an idea of what the picture was being taken for. She was wearing something sheer but not too revealing but her expression said she felt naked. Her face was heart-stopping. The fact that they sent an un-obscured picture in response to mine is always a good sign.

I was a little nervous myself as I waited in the arranged hotel-bar. I had found a quiet corner and was nursing a soda as I waited. I had purposefully given the hotel across the street as my residence. Not really for any worry I had about them, just a habit of discretion. Besides I was tired of my own lounge singer and opted for the juke-a-billy bar there.

They were easy to spot as they were punctual and the height differential. I should have been easy to spot too as I was the only singleton in the nearly deserted bar. I counted only three couples and two groups of men. Come to think of it the well dressed grouping of two men could have been a fourth couple. Neither of them seemed to notice Kathy's entrance. And it was epic.

As they came in out of the cold of late autumn, she began methodically unbuttoning her full length camel hair top coat. Every (hetero) guy in the room was hoping for a merry-widow and stockings beneath. Alas, she was wearing a silk, curve-hugging blouse in a shade of brilliant blue that made her eyes pop. Those eyes found me as she scanned, and she favored me with one of those smiles that you know you could never earn.

Larry took her coat and hung it distractedly as he made his second sweep of the bar. He shrugged off his own coat and added it to the wall. He had to be over six feet and she barely cleared five. She stood at his side expectantly, then realized he hadn't spotted me. She waved to me and took Larry in hand and led him over.

"Hi, I'm Kathy," she bubbled. Good sign that she initiated. "And I'm Larry," he added looking down at  me with a wry smile on his face. Apparently he thought 5' 8" was code for someone large enough to kick his ass. (I'm not.) Cutting him off at the pass...I delivered my canned line, "But I have a really HUGE.....(wait for it) ego!"

That got a laugh and a shrug out of him. "Yeah, It's not like Kath is an Amazon!"

I sat them down and good service arrived promptly, courtesy of a previous $5 tip on a complimentary soda. The attractive waitress soon forgot my largess though as she deferred to Larry. On the other hand, Kathy was on my side of the booth and we made a cute couple. Interesting thing about people and height and the perception of command and competency. I usually hire tall salesmen myself given the choice so I don't feel offended when I am overlooked.

Larry let her daiquiri and his whiskey sour have a few minutes to do their business before he got down to the "interview." This stage is typical in my experience, but Larry was a bitsure of himself being firmly in charge. On the one hand I don't mind showing deference if it gets me the loan of his wife, but on the other hand, he was out of his element and had no idea he was.

For example, He asked if I had much experience with this sort of thing. I tried to avert the question a bit by mentioning, "Well there was Susie in the tree-house when I was 14....."  He laughed but pursued, wanting stats and numbers. He didn't come right out and ask for how many wives I had been involved with, but that's what he was wanting to know. I pointed out that I could show him my little black book but that it would be slightly indiscreet. Whether by intuition, prearranged signal, discomfort, or a nervous bladder, Kathy excused herself just in time.

I got down to Larry politely but firmly in a way I would never have been able to with her at the table. His pride would not have allowed me to control the close. It would have been a soft sell and by the time that went anywhere it would have been too late to really do much of anything.

"Larry," I began...(we salesmen love to use your name..I hate it myself because I know the trick but it works on me too.) "We need to be careful to make this fun and light for Kathy. Whether or not she expresses any interest in me personally, lets get her used to the idea that its completely OK for a strange man to chat her up in the presence of her husband. I assume that was why you agreed to meet, not necessarily my handsome good looks but rather I looked approachable, trustworthy, right?"

He admitted that Kathy had picked me out after he had sifted out the truly obnoxiously offensive propositions.

"Here's the thing...I am not assuming that I am bedding her tonight or in fact ever. I know enough not to push but to lead and she'll follow along or not depending on her attraction. She seems relatively eager if a little understandably nervous. I'm not telling you to get lost, but give me a little space and I'll at least be able to give you some ideas on the next step if this doesn't work out. OK?"

With his assent we settled into guy talk, what-do-ya-do?, who-do-ya-know, what-do-ya-fish-for..that sort of thing. I caught Kathy peeking back in to see how we were getting on, I let her get away clean. She came in with that radiant smile again and sat down again. I placed my hand on her tiny one and looked into those blue pools...(I know I am waxing sappy, but she really was a muse for poets. Damn shame I ain't one..)

"Larry tells me you dance like an angel..."

"You lie, he said no such thing, since he would have no idea if I do or not!"

"That's true," he admitted, "I have the grace of someone that grew 8 inches in a year and a half."

"Well this has to be investigated," I said without asking either permission dragged her nearly skipping along beside me to the jukebox. Its one of those ones that teases with low volume random play until someone actually pays for a tune. I tried several ones that apparently weren't crisp enough. She smoothed and folded and had an adorable habit of showing the tip of her tongue at the corner of her mouth as she concentrated. I finally gave up and tried a five. It liked that.

I asked her what she wanted to dance to. She consulted the corner of her mouth with her tongue as we flipped the pages. I slipped a wrist around her tiny waist. She started a bit at the contact, then recovered and  actually snuggled into me a bit.

"Kind of fun like a first date?"

"Not like any first date I have ever been on!!"

"Well, there is the husband/chaperon to consider..." That earned a laugh.

"Shall we ditch him?" I asked later as we twirled to a fifties ballad. She seemed to consider it a moment and shook her head. "Not just yet." hmmm better response than I thought.

"I better let you two talk a bit...have him hug you and move the lummox around in a circle." I led her back to his table after that song knowing another slow song was coming. I had planned it that way as we selected songs, punching in the slow songs after a couple of icebreakers.

"Back safe and sound," I said putting her hand in his. She took my suggestion and drug him out on the floor.

Will our hero get lucky?  Tune in next time....

Sunday, May 16, 2010

The Twins

Not the team. And not actually even sisters for that matter. When I came in last night Ned sent them over to me after I retired to 'my' booth in ignominy, having realized how unlikely it was that Mrs. Atticus would be there waiting.

The were relatively young, I'd say late twenties. Blond, the same shade of Miss Clarol I'd guess. I was guessing Heather and Ashley. That wasn't their names but a reasonable guess. They were cute but in a unattainably flirtatious way. Well surely not completely unattainable, but I didn't see it going anywhere with me.

Ned, The bartender, I am sure had visions of a table-top three-way.

"Ned said we should meet you."

"Have a seat.." I offered, indicating the opposite side. Heather As I thought of her did so, but Ashley, the more flirtatious of the two hip-bumped me over and sat to my left.

"So why does Ned say we should meet you?"  Asked Heather apparently intrigued, but it sounded like an interview question.

I was kind of wondering that myself, last night's 'success' notwithstanding. I glanced his way and was pleased he wasn't leering expectantly my direction. Ned might well be useful.

A better question was why they would have been open to the nudge my way. I was not getting a 'professional' vibe from them but I also didn't get a wild party girl feel from them either. That's as far as I can tell the only two types that seem to require and steering. The rest seem content to sit and look pretty and let mature take its course. Most women get at least approached cautiously by just entering a bar. I steer clear of the former because I lack the imagination to think the professional wants to be with me for anything but the money, and the party girl I avoid both for appearances' sake as well as the fact that they seem to think that a man in my profession has a trunk full of controlled substances.

"What exactly did my new friend Ned tell you girls?"

"Just that you were visiting from out of town and could use some company."

"Why? Are you girls the local welcoming committee?" That got me a couple of giggles and my arm slugged by Ashley.


"No, silly" she said, "We were complaining that we keep getting hit on by young jerks that think we are easy and came in here hoping to meet some guys that are a little more mature."

"Let me see, so Ned thought you were hard-to-get and sent you my way, or you said mature and he thought of me because of my advanced age and advancing hairline? Remind me to thank him. perhaps I have been tipping too well."


"I didn't say we play hard to get!" pouted Ashley.

"That is encouraging." I said slipping an arm around her. "So, come here often?"

"No, we thought we would try some-place less popular." Heather explained. "The trendy spots are all the same and loud."

"It is possible to have a conversation here" I agreed, thinking that we weren't really having one yet. I couldn't figure out these two. Possibly the age gap. Possibly the fact that they were out of their element and I was out of my depth. I thought at that moment of that country song about not being as good as I once was but as good once as I ever was. In it the protagonist meets twin sisters who offer to take the cowboy on a ride. That made me think twins and three-ways and well, my imagination reeled a little.

I wasn't except in my fertile imagination getting the impression that they were a package deal but one can dream. The concept of a wing-man was invented for just such a situation. You have two attractive blonds, and need to divide and conquer. I didn't see a likely fill-in for the role in the bar. Ned wasn't out of the range of possibilities but it was way to early in the evening to valet park one with him for when he gets off shift several hours from now.

I just couldn't see this going anywhere. I got a little friendly with Ashley, nuzzling her neck a bit as I whispered in her ear, "How far do we need to get Heather a little jealous?"

She thought that was hilarious and laughed out loud but played along, whispering "She probably thinks we are saying filthy things to each other."

"Surely, you aren't that kind of girl?" I asked, breaking a cardinal rule. never ask a question you don;t either already know the answer to or at least where the unknown doesn't matter.

"No, not really." she said...hmmmm. not encouraging. She was supposed to say something suggestive.

I beckoned Heather over and whispered in her ear..."Ashley is helping my reputation with Ned the bartender by pretending I am getting somewhere with her." This earned me a giggle and a snuggle out of Heather.


I pushed Ashley out of the booth briefly and went over to the bar to get us replacement drinks thinking maybe a couple or more drinks might make reality measure up to my imaginative solution to the which one to take up to my room dilemma. (Both!) Ned was interested in an update on how I was doing. Not likely was my report. But I went back in swinging.

I bought drinks they got a little loose with their tongues but not their morals. Heather was self-described as historically a "good girl' who apparently broke up with a boyfriend recently and was encouraged to seek out some "older men' by Ashley who reports favorable experiences with same.

I bit on that. "I'm older men..."

"Well not that old..." giggled Heather.

Wasn't sure how she meant that, as in I'm far to young for her dirty old uncle fantasies, or that she wasn't interested in someone 'that old'. I was sure my ego wasn't pliable enough to find out.

So the night more or less went like that. I learned a bit about them, them me, didn't go anywhere and likely wouldn't have. They had the idea of meeting some 'older man' maybe a business traveler. Me on both counts. But the reality of that just wasn't something that matched their mental image. They had the idea of a pair suave wealthy travelers with full heads of hair styled in a $400 hair-cuts whisking them off to Paris or something. My expense account is pretty liberal given the more restrictive modern tax code, but it doesn't include flying companions to Paris.

Several drinks in, we did play the "Have you ever, would you ever?" speculation about their sexual experiences, mores and aspirations. I found as I suspected they were pretty tame and not at all inclined to share the wealth of my benevelant tumescence in my hotel room. I retired to my room alone.

I wouldn't even mention this little experience except for where it crosses with Ned the bartender except to show you just have to keep trying till something turns up. Its all fun, really just seeing who is out there and what it is they are looking for. It only 'works' when reality somewhat matches up to at least a version of everyone's fantasy.

Saturday, May 15, 2010

She is going to haunt my dreams....

You know I really enjoyed Mrs. Atticus last night exactly as it occurred. I didn't feel like I was shortchanged by it not "having" her in the classical sense. It was exactly what I wanted in the moment. The little thrill of sneaky pseudo-exhibitionism. A stolen moment. All that.

I expected nor asked for any follow-up. Indeed I left myself no avenue to recontact her or even the prospect that she might look me up. It was truly anonymous.

I was sated in what must seem a paradox, since she had limited contact with me, but I had intimate contact with her. She got off, I didn't in the physical sense, but in the mental sense it was orgasmic.

It isn't the only time I have truly enjoyed relatively tame experiences, sexually speaking. In some cases it is all that was offered or available, sometimes I set it up so that a make-out session was the only probable outcome. I am funny that way but probably not completely unique. Seduction is not the prelude, but rather the point for a lot of people I suspect. Biology carries us through, but the drive is the hunt, the tantalizing lure of drawing someone within one's grasp.

So I came back to the bar in a juvenile hope that she too, was hungering for a bit more, or a bit more of the same. Naturally she was not there. Why would she? I decided not to make a fool of myself and freak her out by tracking her down through the convention her husband was at. It would be creepy and cheapen the memory.

But I long for her non-the-less.

As a teenager I was happy to indulge when the fruit hung low, but some of the loftier visions of beauty I had not the nerve nor the chance to sample kept me awake nights. I was the buddy a few times too often and think I actually liked the unrequited love. Not sure that is past tense for me. Else why chase the unavailable and the unattainable?

Back here on earth my thoughts turn to Ned's huge smile when I walked in. "You DA man!" he said hand in air for a high five. "That was amazing, dude, How on earth did you get her to...?"

I smiled a sheepish smile at the thought. I was pleased with myself, and did know how I had put English on the ball. (I suck at pool but love the metaphors.) I modestly told him with a shrug. "You can't get a woman to do anything she didn't already decide she was going to."

"How did you know what she was going to?"

"I didn't, I just provide the opportunity."

I wasn't lying to him, it is sort of like that I think. A lot of it is the ability to read body English. All the non-verbal cues that we all give off some consciously, most sub-rosa. It also is a gentle touch with your own cues. I don't know if the specific cues used in "The Horse Whisperer" really do work with horses, but it makes sense, and we aren't that far removed from them I think. And no, I am not implying I am hung like a stallion.

My new best friend Ned sent me over a couple of girls..don't know if he was just being helpful or wanted to test my touch or what..That's another post I think.

Another minor entry...

..in the little black book made me think of this blog I started..I kind of forgot about it and had to search my mind a while to remember what I called it. Then longer to remember the email associated with it.

Yes, I am still keeping a little black book(s) complete with little cribbed in notes and my version of a scoring system. If I ever leave it somewhere it'll look like some bookies complicated coded sports book probably.

I have had a couple of experiences sufficiently sexual to make the book but it was the one last night that made me think of the blog. In the little black book it wouldn't on it's face seem that hot of an experience just based what you could discern about the two what when and we here if you could decode it. Points for how good looking this women would be self evident, the fact that what little did happen happened under her husbands nose made it interesting to. But you had to be there. I'll try my level best to put you there. I've a good memory for dialog so the chit-chat here is at least as I want to remember it.

I usually either contact a previous 'conquest' (or she contacts me for more...can;t get enough of ole 'nando, some of em...) or I troll Ashley-Madison. One of the profiles I use there yielded results. That particular profile I am (like in most of the ones I employ) married. In this particular case I am reluctant to 'actually' cheat on my non-existent (anymore) spouse. I am looking for someone that wants to flirt and play a 'little'. and leave it at that.

It is fairly effective at getting me laid having succeeded in blackbook worthy activity a good handful of times. It isn;t a come-on for that purpose though..I really do find flirting and the sexual tension that goes with reluctance interesting. One of the recent ones was like that Cathy I'll call her. Cathy really didn't want to go "too far" and we didn't. Now I doubt her husband would have been any too happy with our gropings and fondlings, but everyone kept their clothes on and it was pretty fun.

Now the action from last night was just casting a wide friendly, non-threatening net. I saw an attractive woman with raven-black hair and bluest or eyes. About my age or perhaps a bit younger. Mature look and clothes so threw me a little. Sitting alone. Business traveler too I thought?

"Anyone sitting here?"

"Just my husband she said with a smile."
"Hmmm, Is he a good-sized boy?' laying on a little phony twang

"Oh, about your size I'd say/"

"Well, then I better choose carefully here...If I sit in his chair he has to either take the chair on the other side of you and glare at me, or ask me to move. If I take the other side of you it avoids the problem, but he's gonna wonder why I felt I could sidle up on you."


"That is a dilemma."

"Oh that's just the start of it. If I sit over there - every time I try to sneak a look at you he's right past my line of sight and I can't pretend I was trying to get the bar-tenders eye."

She had a great laugh totally worth the effort right there.

"I've got it. Hop down." She did....basic sales...get them moving.

"Now scootch down one." I had her in his seat and I took the seat two seats down at the corner of the bar."He either sits between us which means he is gonna feel territorial, or on your side out of my line of sight when I am chatting up charlie the bartender here."

"It's Ned." says charlie the bartender. who is all smiles to be in on something, and my new best friend and straight man. 

"Nice to meet you Ned, see any holes in the plan here?" 

"Nope." he drawled, his drawl as phony as my twang. "...and I do 'preciate you taking the trouble to avoid a dust-up in my saloon." It is slightly western themed so he might've affected the drawl on his own.

"But I'll have my back to you, and I can't see what you are up to." 

She was feeling ignored by our Abbot and Costello. Which ones the chubby one?..I'm the other one.

"Well that's OK, I'm sure you'll be able to feel my eyes on the back of your head, and besides I already told you what I was doing, staring at you, but discrete like." (is that discreet or discrete?)."

"At my back?"

"You have superb posture!"

She decided to leave her back to me as she accepted the profered remote from my new friend Ned and flipped through the channels.

Husband came back and he was a bit rangy like me, and had me by an inch maybe two and a good twenty pounds I'd say. I looked really innocent, as did Ned. Nothing going on here, mate...

She looked to him and some signal passed, and he said, well the Twins game is on...

"Sure." she said. Loved her voice.

He finally directed his gaze my way...like a sentinal taking in the surroundings, assessing threats. I smiled harmlessly, gave him a meaningful eyeflick towards his lovely wife and raised my glass in mock toast. 

He acknowledged the compliment to her, and by extension himself with a slight dip of the head.
In the gate without having to batter the portcullis.

I didn't think then, or now that they were there for any other reason then a place to have a drink out just to remember dating I imagined. When things were going well with the wife I used to like to take her to old places we went when we were dating. I was always more nostalgic than she but It seemed to work a little magic on her. I saw them like that. I pictured their plans for the night had headed that way. Pretty romantic the way it played out in my mind.

The game was a foregone conclusion, and he turned from it. I asked him if he had any money on it. He shrugged, It turned out like you'd expect.

I kept registering little tells on her. She kept almost turning her head then not. Touched her hair a couple of times. Leaned in to her husband and gave him an affectionate head but to his shoulder. Touching base?  She pulled her just past the shoulders hair to one side exposing a sleek graceful neck and did a slow rolling hair flip that managed to be part stretch and part radiant display of plumage. Nice.

She managed a look my direction and of course caught me looking. (I'd warned her!) She smile a little, Hi of sorts.

Couple of boys ambled in to shoot some pool. One was holding it back a lot had a beautiful soft touch. His friend was a bad as I am at it.

They asked for music and Ned obliged turning cable to the endless loop country station when they nodded that country was fine.

 I caught her swiveling her ankle in time to the music.

I talked to Ned about nothing, drew Atticus into the conversation. (Just decided to name him that.A little Gregory Peck, but with a bit of muscle.) Found out a little about him, his work which brought him in town. Different convention than my people, but same cocktail wienies and watered drinks at their hospitality suites I expect.

Asked him how she had liked tagging along and did she like the hors d'oeuvres? She answered with a choking laugh...Did you go to the reception? I explained they are all bad like that. People think good food gets in the way of a good drinking binge. I recommended a couple of restaurants in town that the locals like and are good on food and price. Anyway chit-chat like that.

Abruptly when a song I felt I could keep time with came on, I said to him, her dancin' shoes are goin' to waste. You oughta twirl her a coupla times. He responded he wasn;t much of a dancer.

Me either but her shoes look pretty protective, mind if I borrow her for a coupla dances?

He assented, a bowed and took her hand. 

"Steel toes?" mine worn out standard got her laugh again..she was really light on her feet. I was kidding about posture but her spind was ram-rod straight and her spine cut a deep furrow in her back. Really strong for such a little thing. "You've studied dance ?" I asked on a hunch.

"Twelve years of ballet."  She smiled.."...a long time ago."

"Not so long.." I complimented she dipped her head at th compliment much the way her husband had to the raised glass..nicely fit cuouple.

"What gave me away?"

"Your back, I told you you have sexy posture."

This got me a peel of laughter..Love getting that...I might start a gray book for girls I made laugh but didn't get in their pants so to speak. I had her pegged for one of those. Memorable, but unattainable. Where you wonder what if, and what would it be like days later.

I caressed her back a bit, careful not to get handsy . 

"Oops" I said...I promised Ned not to start anything. "I apologize."

"What this, returning the stoke with widely spaced fingers leaving warm trails on my back..I shivered a bit." She grinned mischevieously...Oh I like this one.

"So is the roll in the hay going to be extra hot after he kicks my ass tonight?"

"Oh I imagine you can talk your way out of a beating, but yeah its going to be nice."

"Yeah?"

"yeah," she said with a nice smile sent hubby's way. Cute couple.

"Come here often?" she just smiled not sure what I meant..I'm not sure either.

"Do they usually take the beating, or talk their way out of it."

"Aticus is a lover not a fighter. He's too confident to be baited."

"What's the most interesting bait he didn't rise to?

"Well its not like we are bar-flys so we aren't out that much. But when we do..."
"You get hit on."

"A time or two, most are subtle or sly like you, occasionally someone is a little more aggressive. He will step in but he doesn't start a scene."

"My ex and I used to have similar fun during our better years, Her enjoying a little attention, me enjoying it for its own sake." A rare moment of truthful candor for me.


"What happend?"

"She took some bar-flattery seriously."
"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too."

Another song came on and I considered giving her back, then decided I wanted to smell her shampoo some more. Her scent of something sweet with an under-note of flowers and clean-girl-straight-from-the-bath mingled together.

So, what was the most outrageous thing that one of these enamored drunks that pre-date me try?

She laughed.."Oh there was this one time....Crowded place a couple of guys had a table to themselves and offered to scoot over and make us room. I slid inside and Aticuss controlled access on our side of the table. Middle guy gut up and over past his friend.. end guy slid over when he got back int and then over to my half and was a little closer to me than he needed to be to make room for his returning friend."

"Uh, oh. I think I see where this was going..."

"Well kind of...He had this habit of leaning in when he talked to me, and at one point he had my hand on my knee and left it there a bit longer than needed. Before finally removing it, he had managed to trade his position for a tad above the knee but a couple of fingertips were under my hem."

"How did Aticus react?"

"He was watchful, but relaxed...later he asked me whether he shouldn't have had traded words or more with the guy. I told him It was fin, I'd have had you deck him if his hand had wandered up another couple of inches..."

"That's a good story" I said...but I was thinking, Ok, a fingertip and a couple of inches is permissible. Just about thought it like that.

Upon handing her reluctantly back I asked Ned what was least complained about in the way of bar food by his local health department. HE recommended the wings. I ordered up a mess of them and they were delivered steamy hot (both ways) with little cups of blue cheese and celery sticks. Somewhere there is a whole chicken farm of amputees but it was for a good cause.

I was having a second scotch, she had a shot of what turned out to be some kind of peppermint schnapps. Atticus stuck with long necks. 

"Here, smell" she said when I asked her what she was drinking. I could just detect the perfume dabbed on her wrist barely over the sharp sweet snap of peppermint. The perfume was subtle, and nose says expensive. Sweet, a little floral, I can smell it in my mind's nose, but cant quite describe it. I brought it to my nose, then lips and skimmed a sip off the top..head rush...I asked Ned  to seethe bottle...120 proof! wow...she didn't look the least bit affected.

So we nibbled and dipped and tried polished it all off down to the celery sticks. and the lone cherry tomato which she grabbed at the end. I always hate the hesitation with the last, lonely, lingering wedge of pizza. Loved that she just took it.

The 5th or sixth beer finally caught up with Ol' Atticus as I had hoped and left us a little privacy for a couple of minutes. I was praying Atticus had a prostate the size of a grapefruit. No ill will intended, Atticus just need a little room to work.

"So he was about here?" I continued as if there hadn't been an hour and 3 dozen wings between sentances. 

"Your fingers are cold" she said conversationally. I had used my icewater to clean off the last vestiges of spicy sauce.

"Feels warm to me...so.... anthing above like here is where you were going to have Atticus punch him out?"

"Well I thought I would."

"You can understand how that guy might get carried away though?"

She closed her eyes and relaxed as I let my fingers do the walking....little strokes, lazy circles, each doodle getting a little higher than the next....teasing up to a little delicate filigree of lace, then a little stretch and a long languid stroke underneath the elastic...she seemed at ease and relaxed but her petal didn't unfold it seemed, tiny hint of a nub towards the top, most of it below. Soft little strokes met with no resistance from her, but no entry seemed possible without something forceful enough to seem like a it would violate the moment in the process.

"Whacha gonna tell Atticus when he asked if he should'a laid me out?"

She opened her eyes and pierced me with their crystal depths....

"I'll tell him what a nice time I had with a gentleman that wasn't just trying to get into my pants," as she reached down took my hand in hers folded my fingers back a bit leaving just my index finger....she guided and negotiated an angle and IN it slipped she paced i,t controlled it, then let me take over. I sat therein a bar and finger-fucked a man's beautiful wife. I'd sure like to do that again sometime.

When Atticus returned I licked my fingertips clean and bade them good night. Thanks for the dance I said as I bussed her cheek.

Monday, April 5, 2010

Back Seats...

Given that I usually have a fairly nice, clean, comfortable, private room available it is odd the number of times I find myself fumbling with a bra or my pants, or hers in a backseat. I actually usually rent full size cars for just that reason. I don't stray far enough from the hotel area usually to worry about gas mileage after all.

I think what I like about it is the reminder of high school and college where privacy was a premium, and adventurously risky locales were a naughty thrill. Still are for me, and it seems a surprising number of women.

Some, like Rita readily admit they find it a kinky thrill. Some wax nostalgic at the thought. Often the look on their face in the light reflected into the shadows by a distant lightpole reveals a bit of the girl they were in high school or so I think.

Rita's story reminded me of a couple of parking lot encounters...One I have in mind was a cheating wife with a penchant for risk, one was a permissive husband who knew we were going to "get to know each other" and explicity condoned. I'll take the cheater first and save the 'hot wife" for the next post.

The cheater was a busty woman in her late twenties to early thirties. Her real name is no risk to disclose since I swear 1/3 of all women in that age range seem to be named Amanda. dunno why.

I introduced myself to her husband as I sat to his left, and she reached over him with her hand and introduced herself. "And I am Amanda." Interesting I thought. He seemed not to pick up the signal...didn't seem to be a game between them or anything. He accepted a beer and she said "I shouldn't" and ordered a Long Island Iced Tea. She went to the bathroom after I had come and gone twice. She stayed out quite a while and came back with remarkable timing only as her husband had headed to the bathrooms. I thought at first some kind of signal had passed and they were meeting up there, but she bounced out right after he turned the corner into the recess. She grabbed hubby's stool swapping his beer for her 'tea'. This looked like trouble. and she was. Tasty, tasty trouble. With a capital T.


I moved slightly subconsciously looking a little less conspiratorial as I kept an eye towards the bathrooms. She flounced and posed and flirted kind of outrageously...I forgot her husband after a bit...he came back after a substantial delay and sat down next to her the seating arrangement un commented upon.

She included him in the conversation which she steered to my work..(what little I had mentioned) my home state, her cousin there that sort of thing. She announced it was their turn and bought me another whiskey sour, her something pink and fruity (daiquiri? maybe), husband another beer. He laid a twenty on the bar. She supervised the tip getting it out of the stack of proffered ones. Weird dynamic, but then I like weird.

At some point she had suggested getting some snacks to settle her stomach. I don't find bar food to have that effect, but it accomplished us moving to a booth; her on his side this time. I figured this night for a footnote not a page in the black-book, but when her foot found its way out of her shoe and into my lap, I had a whole other idea about where this was headed.

When I said that I had been enjoying getting to know her when husband made a trip to the stalls..by then crowded hopefully and a bit more delay. I laid it on a bit saying "wow, if your weren't attached we could sure have had some fun..." She said, "Oh, me too...a shame we can't go somewhere quieter." I noted the present tense and the ignoring of the central objection...hmmm

She punched my arm playfully when I mentioned my room was pretty quiet. For now. "Yeah, I wish!" she said.

Listen, she said "Would you be pissed off if you were like waiting for someone to show and she couldn't make it?"

"Well, it depends what held her up I guess."

"Well you know how it is.." head nod towards the bathrooms.

I mentioned I was in town a couple of more days.....

She said, "What are you driving?" I explained I had walked over a couple of blocks from a neighboring hotel. She repeated, "I remember you mentioned you were at the Marriot, but what's your car? "

Finally getting the drift I explained it was a dark green Chevy..looks almost black at night.

"How about you say your goodbye's when he gets back, go get the car and park it towards the back of the lot here? If you don't see me in like 20 minutes, it isn't going to work."

We had a plan. I bristled in my seat waiting...she had sidled close and I had a hand on bare thigh under her skirt just an inch or two, and removed it with reluctance as he headed back. I shook his hand after stalling for maybe 2 minutes after he returned and raced for the car. I parked and re-parked trying to find an angle to watch the back door and stay in the shadows a bit..

I waited three hours. Well it seemed like it...she rushed out and looked around right and left. I felt like a goober standing next to the rental car waving...she smiled and rushed over click click clickety click in her heels...

"Glad you are still here..took longer than I thought...he's pretty drunk and nodding a bit in the lobby chair...I implied I have called for a ride and will come get him. He doesn't have any sense of time when he's drunk. We've got maybe 20 minutes I think she said as she leaned into me opened her mouth and raped mine with her tongue. Quite a kisser this one.

She hopped up on the hood as it tick-ticked cooled underneath. She was quite warm I found as her hand guided mine under her skirt..."You were about here I think?" Placing my hand quite a bit farther up her skirt than even my fertile imagination had pictured back in the booth. Plain sight if anyone came out the back door..I nervously looked over my shoulder twice...

"Don't worry, I'm watching she said..."

Her panties moved to the side readily and I found her riding my hand then a finger then two...

At some point she hopped down in a flush and said we needed a new position...she chose on her back in the back seat, heels hastily thrown over the front seat, followed by her blouse, then bra, then wriggling out of her skirt and panties, I had naked wife in my back seat..wow...even in high school the most adventurous girl on the quietest lane tended to leave her clothes partially on and in easy reach.

She was a wriggling but choregraphed delight of pale flesh and eagerly parted thighs. We started with a kiss, she guided my head to her good sized breasts with reallly erect nipples, she let me lead a bit then urged.."Bite it!" I nibbled

"A little harder.." I did easing on ever more pressure. "Like that." she cooed and arched and trembled...

She gave a little pressure on the back of my head urging me south a bit...I got the hint and trailed little kisses and tongue tip..her thighs spread wantonly, eased my access, licked and kissed and nibbled and hit 'The Spot' apparently as her legs clamped on my ears..she bucked and writhed and came a couple of times it seemed, then pushed me back in a breathless giggle. "Your turn!"

She had my pants off in a whirlwind, don;t remember my shoes joining hers in the front seat, but I retained my socks, my short, my unbuttoned shirt, and some of my 45 year-old dignity. I sat up and watched the back door as she dove on my cock her ass ~heart shaped from that angle~ presented in the side window away from the door towards thankfully just bushes.

She was enthusiastic, and enthusiasm equals a good blow job in my opinion., bobbed and weaved and found the ticklish spots, nibbled and gobbled and swirled and traced sharpened nails...I was about to erupt and told her so.

'Yes I know, I am holding you there.." she smirked...

To prove her point she plunged and swirled and gave a yank with one hand and a ball-squeeze with the other and I came. Lots. The rental car company wouldn't have been able to tell the difference with a black light though...she didn't waste a drop.

"So, Mr. Smith at the Marriott? Right?" I'll try to drop by tomorrow to finish this if I can.

"I thought my room was out of the question?"

Well only because I didn't have time to plan, and besides this was nice..."

Nice wasn't the word I would have used, but sure, lets go with nice.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Red-headed Rita

I mentioned having some success in country bars on the road. Line dancing doesn't care if you suck or not. Sucking gives you the chance to mention you are a non-native in any event.

Such was the case with Rita. I remembered her name without looking it up because I made an instant hook with Reba coming from the speakers with this this short-bobbed red-head in front of me when she introduced herself.

I had leaned into her as she passed and said, "Sorry in advance for crushing your toes". This earned me a giggle and she worked her way around the pattern to beside me, actually holding my hand a couple of times and pointing out mis-steps and actually I did improve a bit.

Noticing the ring, I always do, I asked where's your resident cowboy. She pointed across the room saying I think he is enjoying the blonde's boobs on his arm..."Like this." she said, ~accidently~ grazing my arm with a lonng feel....wow! nice, surprisingly firm or a really snug, well-fit bra.

Raising my eyebrows, I cut to the chase. "You two aren't swingers are you?"  in mock horror.

Making full eye contact, she replied coolly, "Well he isn't, anyway." She went on to explain "You get the most interesting propositions in these sort of places."

"Really?" I asked, feigning ignorance. "Like what sort of suggestions?"

"Oh anything from ~How 'bout a ride on my Harley'~, to ~Come to Aruba with me~ to how about a quick hook-up in the parking lot?~". She went on, "If I hadn't of thought Aruba was a bullshit line I'd have had a lot of explain'in to do about my tan a week later."

"Yeah, I don't figure you for a girl to fall for a bullshit line.And I think you're probably past the back-seat quickie stage... What about the blond?" motioning to her husband with the huge-haired tiny blond with unlikely proportioned chest.

"Naw, she's definitely a tease. You should stick to red-heads, if you want my advice." With a wan smile she said she better "Go look slightly worried about the blond" Over her shoulder she said, "Don't discount the fun you can have in a backseat, cowboy."

Later, she came back over and bold as brass said, "Ive thought it over and decided to be your personal welcoming committee. You said the Raddison right? What's the room number and when shall I deliver the welcome basket?"

This by the way NEVER happens. They may hint they may give you verbal and more likely non-verbal buy signals but a walk-in lay-down in salesman's parlance? Never. Until it did.

She was a lot of fun, and sexy as hell. Athletic and tireless. She groaned a bit when she learned my occupation. Husband was in a related field. I call it sales (which it is) but technically I am in "financial planning' which is a seductive way of selling financial products, really.

"Well, let me ask you about how my husband has his assetts diversified"...she kidded presenting me her backside.

A sense of humor is a powerful aphrodisiac.

Monday, March 29, 2010

Dancing around the issue with a wife.

No Fred Astaire am I. I hated the sqaure dancing the made us do in PE in 7th grade...WTF is with Doe-see-Doe and bow to your partner have fuck-all to do with physical education...I however along the way early on figured out that you could walk up to any gorgeous girl at a dance and more often than not be having at least cursory physical contact with her.

I have a theory too about why this odd practice evolved socially. Its about the pheremones baby. You get within someone's arms and you are easily within range of being pheremonally manipulated. Awsome. As we said back in the 80's when I was dancing to Rick James "Superfreak" and Robert John's "Sad Eyes".

I now use this to my advantage at every opportunity. I SUCK at boot-scootin' country line dancing and other girls dancing with girls mostly stuff, but I persist...its a good way to get a foot albeit a clumsy one in the door, or in this case under the skirt. I have had a couple of successes at meeting women in country bars AFTER I ditched my cowboy boots that felt like an affectation. I actually found them surprisingly comfortable and still wear 'em but not to country bars. Well thats another story...I'll tell that next maybe.

This one is about last Saturday Night. I had cruised the hotel lobby bar and the nearby ones Friday after my training session to no avail. Ditto (predictably) Craigslist, but some fun reads. Ashley-Madison had thoughtfully sent out an advance party looking for a little guilty-wife tail but I didn't put in the effort I should have. They have a nice feature for the traveler where you can mass email in a city you are visiting recognizing you haven't the time to put in the effort pursuing them by ones and twos for a one or two day stay, "we're MASS cummunicatin' boy!" That too is a whole other post I think.

So a little pent up fantasy looking for an outlet took me shoppin for some strange if you will a bit farther afield than I usually go. I wandered about the city and found a hole in the wall that had a sign out front about "dance tonight." I stopped in and grinned at Billy Idol's "Dancing with Myself." after a couple of songs.

I spotted a youngish couple, was a little wary of the possible gang-ish looking (prison??!) tats on husband/boyfriend's neck. Nice interview fodder that, I am sure. Turned out to be husband, he seemed OK when I approached. Had a young James Olmos voice and made me smile a bit at how he seemed to lay it on a little thick when he said "no problem, homes." When I asked if I might borrow his wife.

Just like that. No preamble, no groundwork. Of course he correctly interpreted my meaning as in to dance with but you know, baby steps.

She was as Jimmy Biffut would describe, a "Mexican Cutey". I demurred asking her her country of origin despite a delicious accent that "teek-eled" my ear delightfully. Couldn't have been more than 5' but tall heels and a confidant stride made her a lot of woman in such a petite package.

I cut her out of the herd after observing her unsuccessful attempt to drag Mr. Machismo out onto the floor. I didn;t approach then, just followed it away, until I caught her actually dancing a few steps in place while husband and a friend sat at one of those high small bar tables and chatted.

He watched, but seemed unconcerned. I minded my hand position..I had in no way permission granted to squeeze the Charmin so I did my best to enjoy her with a little air gap...she had a nice groove of moving in with a little bump but not exactly a grind. stereotypical I know but Latina sensual.

We made small talk I complimented her on her dancing, apologized for my pedestrian skills. We talked about competitive dancers she was wistful saying not about the competition but she'd love to have a partner that could whirl her around like they do. I made a few exaggerated moves, didn't drop her and was rewarded with a laugh of delight.

I inquired about her actual partner."Does he not dance?"  she shook her head and explained he does and well she says, but seems to have a policy of leaving her wanting more...more complicated than that I suspect..

"You don't want to leave a woman wanting too much more...I teased.

"No," she agreed, "It can get dan-gerous."

I returned her to her husband after a couple of songs it was an 80's night though she and husband seemed a little young for that. The women (mostly cut out of herds of singles) that I twirled and made a fool of myself with on 'fast songs' with exaggerated movements were more in my age range and did remeber..it was actually pretty fun in its own right.

I got back to the little Latina, (Maria, aren't they all?) a couple of more times and gently prodded. I asked her about how he felt about loaning her out. Meaning to dance of course, but there was a little edge there. She admitted he likes to go out with her and that he clearly enjoys when she gets 'oogled" she said rhyming it with Google.

I mentioned that I could see that happening a lot given her "nice little body" (pushing it there a little) and "angelic face" not to mention her fine sense of style.

She laughed and said, "Style? You guys don't notice what we are wearing as long as it shows a little boobs and ass!"

I protested," Don't forget the shapely gams!" puzzling her, I explained it's an old not-used much now word for legs.

Big smile with that. "Yeah I got that, for sure.." I liked her. A lot.

That's as far as it went but I went home with a smile on my face and Prince's  "Little Red Corvette." wedged in my brain.

So no black book worth entry to make,  but I wanted to share the misses to show what its really like out there trolling. See a wife in a bar with music and wiggling her toes, take a chance. But mind the shivs.

Monday, March 22, 2010

Misconceptions: The Cucks

These are an interesting and varied breed. Not all have any identification (consciously or otherwise) with the label or even really the stereotype of the willing cuckold. (interesting trivia, the term for that is witall (sp?) ).

I of course could commiserate since I was by definition and by virtue of my wife's affair a cuckold myself in the classical sense. I learned early never to mention it. If I mention a wife in past tense at all i say little, It pains me to hear their query about. "Wasn't it kind of hot that she was fucking someone else?"

"No, you dumb fuck it was painful, Oh and can I fuck your wife, by the way?".

Actually I do get it and its about control. If they permit and know about and live vicariously through it is kind of hot. If I had a stable relationship I wouldn;t be averse to some swinging, and it WOULD be hot to see her varied technique with another lover or two.

I have had the occaison to be with swingers who wanted a third. In those situations though the porno-fueled spit-roast is hot (and fun!) I prefer taking my own time and direction with her and watching his turn as well.,  a voyeur exhibitionist thing I think.

Some cucks and swingers have bi-leanings (expressed or not some don't). Not my thing, and have never felt pressured.

I find that the majority of men I have corresponded with about their wives aren't in a position to close the sale but it is fun talking to them about it. Most happily and proudly send a picture or two, and those make for interesting viewing. Fun to think about, for them and me. I like to think I have made some practical suggestions and in a few cases it did bear fruit but not for me. The thank you for helping me get my wife laid is not a card Hallmark carries and is surreal to receive an email like that.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Misconceptions: The Wives

If you have anything at all in mind about them, You are probably wrong.

In my experience, any woman is either interested in some sort of activity or can be persuaded in that direction. It is all a question of timing. Their motivations are as varied as they are. The thing about timing is you will never know until you give it a shot whether the timing is right or not.

The trick is to cast a wide net and see who wriggles their tail out of the net and who hops in and awaits the butter and garlic. Well maybe hold the garlic. Lemon?

The REALLY attractive ones interestingly by observation and talking to some of them seem to get hit on less. seems true of single ones too, but I don't chase those much. I'll wait till they find their prince charming then play naughty coachman with her methinks.



The seemingly plain ones are interesting in bed I generalize, like they try harder to please. But they are not without confidence nor are they easy prey in my experience. Plain is pretty subjective though and a sparkling glint in the eye and a killer pair of heels goes a long way here.

There are mousy submissive that comply with the urges of eager to swing husbands, but these sadden me a bit. I have no problem dipping my wick if those were likely but they seem not to. If the husband does all the talking it probably isn't going to happen. They will probably flirt and talk and leave with a little boost for thier marriage, and I am happy to do it. Its fun just to dabble sometimes. They idea of them fucking like bunnies to exclamations of "did you see how he was looking at you.." makes me grin.

A couple of those that were really mere gropes on the dance floor to the glazed approval of their kinky husbands made it into the little black book(s) simply because I could easily imagine the scene between them later. Besides if groping a woman's firm ass, or an intentional grazing of a pert boob right in front of her husband isn't sexual, then well, blow me. Seriously. I probably have an exhibitionist streak because some of the most fun I have had with couples have been in dark booths with wandering hands.

So whether the spouse/boyfriend knows/approves/suspects or not, each woman has an Achilles heel I think. The thing is like in sales to find positives and minimize negatives. It is easier for me I think as a traveler though because the implied temporary nature of the thing provides an easy out to consider. I find in my hometown I do better implying that I am either from out of town..(careful, you could bump into them again!) or that I am seldom in town. (better.)

I need to count a bit but putting my little black book into a spreadsheet seems a little obbsessive. I THINK that I have had maybe 80% of those little wives (and big ones too!) without the suspicion/knowledge/consent of the perhaps offended party. Probably higher than that. Some women impy an open relationship...shrug...their end was open.

I am finding having the consent of the husband adds an interesting dimension and I have returned to those wives more often than say, an Ashley-Madison hook-up.

I have to start keeping track but I would say less than 10% of the women I hit on when their husband steps away do I end up having something go on. Probably less than 1/4 of those are what I read as a couple looking to add a third or so on. The thing is I ALWAYS hit on her when he steps away. I rarely get an annoyed look out of her, and less so from him. I am sure someone is going to pound me sometime for an improper suggestion, but I am pretty bland in my approach.

I never do this if I haven't at least made a polite innocuous comment or two to him before I get a chance to speak to her. (not about his wife, unless that seems relevant). Like sales know your customer. I look for any couple in an environment that seems off. If either are either looking for or avoiding eye contact that is interesting. Depends really.

I think the most outrageous thing I ever said point blank to a husband about his wife was "Not to be rude, but legs like hers is why God invented heels." She had walked away, and he had caught me looking and grinned a little. Didn't get any of that, but it was pretty fun to think about.

Opening salvo to the wife, leaning across the empty bar stool..(by the way...if you choose the seat, sit on the non-threatening husband's side) is usually along the lines of, "Pretty confident isn't he to leave such an attractive woman among the wolves?", or some such. The proudest line I laid was, "Wow, that takes cajones to leave the keys to the Maseratti on a barstool while you take a leak." THAT one actually worked, and I don't think he did know that she slipped me a number.

I was REAL cautious calling her. I cleverly verified the number by ringer her purse and hanging up before he got back. "Hmm odd you have been getting wrong numbers on that phone a lot lately? Probably just a similar number." She called me back the middle of the next day. Fun was had by two out of three of us.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Misconceptions: The Bulls

First is the misconceptions about Bulls. I know they are all supposed to be Black ex-linebackers over 6'4" and 10", respectively. I haven't met but the one guy besides me fucking other guys wives, and he was a short, fat, sallow complected, humorless, poor, cretin and from his bluster I am assuming a pretty diminutive appendage. I even joked with my ex wife once about having the bigger dick and she was oddly embarrassed. So it isn't about the dick, gentlemen.

Seriously guys. You never see an add apparently actually written by a woman asking of penis sizes and pictures of impressive endowments.

On the other hand, I want of encourage a flood of inquiries from husbands and boyfriends wanting me to really "stick it to her" SO I will imply gargantuan proportions when in fact I am modestly but entirely adequately endowed. I've never had a woman say "OMG! You are NOT getting that THING near me", nor have they giggled. When they have allowed me access we have been mutually satisfied, sans modern pharmaceuticals, although if I ever need more of a 'lift" than lifting a housewife's skirt, I shall gladdly take one. Or two.

I have a slender build and hit the chart at the exit at the bank along with stick-up men of the 5'8" variety. As I stoop with age perhaps I shall aim for lower fruit but for now, I seem by results attractive to women all the way up to a lofty 6' but usually the shorter, lighter spinners are more to my taste and I theirs.

The divorce aged me rapidly. I grayed nearly completely form salt and pepper to fuck-me-santa white in a year or so. Prior to, I was mistaken for a prematurely balding and prematurely aging mid to early thirties (I was 40 at the time) Now at 45 I get mistaken for 50-55. No one has had the balls or ovaries to suggest I look 60 and they don't offer me the senior discounts, but I can hope. I get called 'Sir' a lot..I take that as a nod to my dominant personality shining through.

Oh, I should mention here why the name of the blog. I was talking to a couple from a Craigslist ad (BTW that is interesting but not fruitful usually) They asked about my experience as a 'Bull'. I hadn;t run across the term.

"Come again?"

They seemed disappointed at my lack of knowledge of the specialized vernacular of the swapped/lent/hot/loaned/cuckoldress wife and her Cuck/DH/Old Man/pimp. I recovered quickly and satisfied them with my answer...

I explained that I have long had a fascination of the mysteries to be unleashed if I had a chance to spend some quality time with another man's wife. I admitted that I had sampled quite a few, but rarely with the kind permission of her husband. They liked that answer. And the Ferdinand reference.

I had thought of the children's book..(still in print?) about a mild-mannered, reluctant bull who as I recall was content to smell the flowers and had no interesting imapling any matodors upon his..ahem..horn. Hence the blog title..I have used this line again in the hackneyed way salesmen recycle gambits that work. This led to bastardized versions when a youngish woman had no idea what I was talking about "Fernando?" and one my age told THAT story that remembered Billy Crystal's 'Nando based on the colorful Fernando Lamas, surely a bull, he. I do a decent version of Billy's version but mine ends up a little more Wrath of Khan/ Corinthian Leather/Mr. Roark-ish of Ricardo Montleban. Great names both of those come to think of it...

Interestingly, I initially, with the first few women tried to imply that bedding a married woman was a rarity for me (as it was at that time) but that her beauty/grace/charm/legs/boobs/pouty lips had so ensnared me that I felt I had no choice but succumb. Oddly, the sluttier I suggested my morals, the more they seemed to want to sample. After a while it was even true.

This same couple asked me about my wife whether she swings too, does she know, suspect, etc. I started at the question then remembered I often wear my wedding ring. Weird affectation of mine , I know. I laughed and told her she is on a need to know basis, and she doesn't have a need to know. Friends who chasten me for 'hanging on' by wearing the damned thing are told it is to remind me not to make that mistake again. Helps if the object of my desire is taken I suppose..More fodder for the couch if I ever decide to get 'shrunk'