Hill County, Texas

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


Public speaking, for most of us, is scarier than a trip to the proctologist. Just the mere thought of having to stand up in front of a group of people and simply talk, on any subject, is indeed a major pain in the ass, figuratively at the very least.

Such was my burden when I had to appear at the last minute as my company’s substitute representative to announce the development another phase of an outlet center in Hillsboro, Texas, about an hour south of Dallas and a half-hour north of Waco.

Smack in the middle of fucking nowhere, in other words. Except for one very tangible perk. The women. Oh, my Lord, the fabulous Hill County, Texas women.

Since Hill County is essentially devoid of any lake or river of consequence, it is not scientifically probable to attribute this aesthetic phenomenon to something in the water.

So, we’ll just chalk it up to a fortuitous chance of fate that I had to fill in for this appearance in front an audience of outlet center merchants, about ninety percent of whom were lovely Texas fillies.

One in particular served to distract me thoroughly enough. She sat in the first row, on a folding chair, as I had to navigate my way through a town-hall-like meeting, and perhaps it was my imagination (or perhaps not), but her sky-blue eyes never once seemed to leave my crotch.

I stopped once directly in front of her, chattering on incessantly about what an economic boon our expansion would mean for the entire county.

She licked her ruby-red lips as she stared unabashedly at my subtly-growing cock, like a hungry hound dog salivating over a bone that would soon be devoured. Everything about that analogy would prove soon enough to be true, except the unflattering hound dog part.

Believe me when I tell you, as if speaking in public were not harrowing enough, try to do so with a hard-on. Not even Hillary Clinton could pull that off. But I digress……..

About ten minutes after my speech was mercifully concluded, I was still making nice and answering questions from some members of the assembly, when I noticed the aforementioned comely cockwatcher in the rear of the hall, patiently waiting her turn for a private conversation. I was happy to oblige, ma’am, as they apparently like to say down down there. (What the fuck did I know about Texas etiquette, I was only visiting from our home office in Maryland.)

Approximately another ten minutes passes until the room had emptied so that only my lip-licking fan and me remained. I took the opportunity to admire her in all her blissful entirety for the first time. She was a voluptuous woman, I guessed maybe early forties, the proverbial brick house. Not fat, not by a long shot, but certainly just the right amount of meat on the bones in all the proper proportions and places.

Her raven hair cascaded halfway down her shoulders, falling onto the equally black blouse that loosely contained what looked to be a Texas-sized pair of heavy breasts. Even though she wasn’t advertising, there were an unmistakably huge set of mammaries in there somewhere.

A strand of pearls hung around her tan throat and fell into the gap of her subtle cleavage. She rocked slightly back on her tasteful heels, smiling at me, almost smirking in that uniquely mischievous way that I’ve since learned only true Texas women know how to pull off. She wore tan capri pants that provided enough of a view of her calves to see that they were lean but muscular. I immediately envisioned those gams wrapped tightly around my ass as I pounded into her Texas twat.

Her face was reminiscent of an American movie actress from another generation, timeless, classic beauty. Ava Gardner came to mind. I imagined myself as Gregory Peck, her leading man in the aptly named ‘The Great Sinner’. She brought me back from my latter-day ruminations with the sound of her succinct inquiry, tendered in a husky, smoky Texas drawl, like whisky dripping from a shotglass.

“So, is it hard?”

I peered at her, her surprise opening salvo serving to essentially stop me in my tracks. She gazed at me and let those seductive eyes scan my torso long enough so that she would know for sure. Damn right, it’s hard, missy.

I was on the defensive already, and I’m a much more effective player on the offensive side of the ball. Accordingly, the best response I could muster was less than eloquent. “Um, pardon me…….?”

She let her eyes linger on my crotch for another long second before raising her head slowly. Her full lips were moist and they seemed to tremble slightly as they pursed. She tossed her hair off of her forehead with a flick of her neck. “Is it hard?” she repeated. Then she finished her double-entendre. “I mean, is it hard to get up and speak in front of a bunch of strangers like that?”

She raised her eyebrows at me as if she were a professor who had popped a surprise quiz question on one of her unprepared students. My mouth opened, but no words came out except an inaudible squeak from bursa escort deep within my throat. At least, I hoped it was inaudible.

Since I was temporarily rendered mute, the impromptu professor spared me the indignity of trying to stammer a reply. “I have a feeling it must be very hard.”

She giggled to herself, clearly amused by her coyness. “Ah mean, especially when someone is in the front row like ah was, clearly trying to distract yew……..” She batted her eyes and exaggerated her drawl, in that way that Texan women have of using their accent to tempt like Eve used an apple. Whatever works. Men are an easy target, it doesn’t take much. She could have sounded like Danny Devito for all I cared.

I regained my composure, somehow, enough to finally utter a cohesive sentence or two. “If you were trying to distract me, you succeeded unilaterally.” I extended my hand. She gripped it softly, demurely, One might say, submissively. I smiled my best smile. “I’m John Walters. But I guess you already knew that since you listened to my speech.”

She held onto my hand and moved imperceptibly closer. Blueberries, I thought. She smells like fresh blueberries.

“Ah didn’t really hear one word of your speech, John Walters, after yew said your name. And I sure as heck don’t know what ewe-ni-lat-err-uh-lee means.” She scrunched her tiny nose and dragged out the multi syllabic word for emphasis. “But I’m glad I could get your attention before all of those other ladies get a chance to get their claws on yew. Ah was tryin’ to distract yew, handsome.”

I don’t know why, but ‘handsome’ gets me every time. Perhaps because I don’t get referred to in that way very often. Well hung, yes. Handsome, not so much. But it was early in our relationship, and I liked the direction this path was taking, even though I still didn’t know her name. She rectified that situation next, her index finger now lightly stroking my wrist.

“I’m Brandi, Brandi Stewart.” She pronounced her last name so that it sounded like ‘Stooo-ert’. It seemed to take about five seconds for the “Stooo” part to escape her lips, and I noticed because her lips formed this perfect oval when she said it.

Her mouth was wide, her lips were plump and wet, and I made a quick calculation that those impressive oral dimensions would look simply stunning around my burgeoning dick while I stuffed my cock within while she cooed her last name. “Stoooooooo-mmmmmmmmmm, oooooooo, yes……..”

My new friend Brandi went on. “I’m the regional manager for DSW shoes, here on a visit just like yourself. I’m stationed out of Hew-stun.” I assumed she meant Houston, I didn’t know, I was still staring at those lips in the perfect ‘O’.

“So,” she said slowly, finally letting go of my hand so that she could wisp a lock of that gorgeous hair out of her equally gorgeous eye. “Ah haven’t booked a hotel room tonight yet. Can you recommend one to me?”

Now, that was an invitation that was not to be ignored, so I finally called my own play, taking the offensive side of play for the first time. I was catching on to what was transpiring here. “Well, I’ve never stayed there before, but my company booked me at the Waco Hilton tonight. They tell me it’s nice.” It turned out that they lied about the ‘nice’ part, the name ‘Waco Hilton’ is an oxymoron, it’s a dump. But that didn’t deter the plan that was hatching.

Brandi furrowed her brow as if in deep contemplation. “Hmmm, the Hilton? Ah, don’t know. Mah company is really cracking down on expense reimbursements.” She rubbed her chin, and then her face brightened. Her gleaming ivory teeth rivaled the gleam on her pearls. “Ah know, why don’t we just share a room? Ya know, the economy is tight right now, and you would want a girl to look like a hero to her company for cuttin’ costs, wouldn’t yew?”

This was too easy, I thought. I can’t make it this easy, that’s not like me, I have to complicate things. So, I wrinkled my own forehead and said, warily, “Uh, gee, I don’t know, Brandi, maybe that’s not such a good idea.”

The shocked look on her face told me that it may have been the first time in her life that she thought she was being rejected. Hell, it probably WAS the first time. But I couldn’t sustain the charade any longer, lest she walk away right now, a scorned Texas gal.

“I mean, what if you snore or something? I don’t even know you.” I held up my hands in shrug and gave her my best schoolboy grin, which didn’t come close to matching the mischievous Texas smile of Brandi’s, but it served the purpose. She understood implicitly, and turned to walk out the door, giving me a view of her round ass for the first time. Daddy liked. I usually go for smaller, pert asses, but this particular butt of Brandi’s was in perfect proportion to her other features. She was by no means a ‘flipper’, but a tall woman with big tits usually has as ass that follows. Not that I was complaining, mind you.

“Who said anything about sleepin’, darlin’?” She winked over bursa escort bayan her shoulder. ” But, occasionally, I can be VERY loud. Why don’t you check us in and I’ll see you in the hotel bar about seven. Save a seat for me?”

I got nothing accomplished for the rest of the day, except perhaps learning how to walk around a hot Texas outlet center while trying to disguise a hard-on that would put those four-hour Viagra warnings to shame.

I left early, feigning fatigue to the center manager, and drove to Waco, which is not exactly America’s fun spot. The university was nice (Baylor), but the rest of the town looked like it was hit by angry, dust-ridden tumbleweeds. I showered, shaved, changed into a golf shirt and a pair of shorts, and waited for Brandi’s arrival at the hotel bar, just as she had ordered.

By seven twenty, nursing my third tall neck and surrounded by a few other stragglers who were unfortunate enough to have been booked into the Waco Hilton. One cowboy wannabe was actually wearing a bolo tie. I was beginning to think that I would indeed have a king-sized bed all to myself and plenty of sleep before my trip south to my next destination in Conroe tomorrow, four hours south.

I looked forlornly out the window onto the sleepy Brazos River just adjacent to the hotel when I heard some mumblings and rumblings from the fellow bargoers, all of whom were male.

I turned amidst the muffled comments and one wolf whistle in time to see Brandi begin to walk towards the bar, causing a commotion and stirring among the lonely men, each hoping against hope that the buxom beauty whose bountiful tits were now bouncing happily beneath a tight baby blue madras blouse was making her route towards him.

She was not. Her route was well defined as her eyes never left mine, though she surely had to know that all eyes were on her. Even if she were not the only woman in the bar, she would have been the subject of head turns and murmurs. She had changed into four-inch aqua high heels which click-clacked loudly against the tile floor as she confidently strode to me.

She now wore a pair of faded designer jeans with tattered holes cut out on the knees and upper thighs, the kind of which costs about twenty-five dollars for each square inch of ripped fabric. To say the jeans were painted on would be a disservice to regular painted-on jeans. The denim bear-hugged every crease and curve of her hourglass figure like a second skin.

She had a small travel bag that was draped over her shoulder, the strap of which hung into the depths of her cleavage caves as if it were on a spelunking mission. Just before she reached me, Brandi threw down the travel bag to the floor, swung me around on my barstool so that I faced her directly, pried my legs apart, and nestled her body into my pelvis, grinding her crotch into mine as she delivered a long, hot, wet kiss as a greeting, her tongue dancing onto mine as hoots and hollers began to ring through the half-empty bar.

She released the kiss with a flair, leaving me gasping for breath and suddenly harder than a public speaking engagement. She picked up the bottled beer on the counter, placed it to her thick, red lips, and swigged the last half of the contents in two huge gulps, punctuating her action by slamming the beer down on the counter.

She stuck her chest out so that there was no disguising the dimensions of her jugs. She may have been dressed semi-conservatively earlier today in her work attire, but now, this cowgirl was not bashful about displaying her Texas-sized breasts. They mashed against my own chest through the thin cotton fabric of her shirt as she pressed herself into me, and I felt their warmth, both soft and firm, all at the same time, in just the right spots.

Brandi’s sensational avatar-like eyes flashed into mine as she stated, in an exaggerated whisper, yet more than loud enough for all the men gathered at the bar to hear, “So, do you wanna drink or do you wanna have your cock sucked?”

I wanted to have my cock sucked. Who’s thirsty, anyway?

I threw a twenty on the bar, picked up Brandi’s bag and we left the bar to a smattering of catcalls, mostly of the admiring and envious kind. I purposely peeked behind Brandi as I let her walk a half-step ahead of me so that I could see the same round ass that every guy in the bar was closely examining. They hated to see her leave, but they loved to watch her go, as the old saying goes.

I gave the boys a celebratory thumbs-up as we exited the door.

“Is this all of your luggage?” I asked. “You travel light.”

She gave me a look of sheer incredulity. “No, baby, I have a big suitcase in my car, which at some point in the morning, I’ll ask you to go get for me. A Texas girl NEVER travels light, sugar.” She winked at me conspiratorially. “This little bag just has some accessory items for our games tonight.”

Oh, of course. Silly me.

The elevator ride was a short one as my room was only on the third escort bursa floor, depriving us of a panoramic view of the scenic Waco skyline. (I jest.) Brandi rubber her body all over mine in the narrow cab, letting her hands wander over my crotch as I cupped and massaged her fleshy buttocks over the jeans. She continued to snake her tongue into my mouth and nibbled on my ear.

“Ah was so freakin’ wet coming over here. Ah’ve been so turned on since I saw you in that crisp white shirt this morning. Ah can’t resist a muscular man in a white shirt.”

I regretted my decision to change into a golf shirt, but hey, I had another white shirt in my luggage, if needed. In the mean time, the way Brandi was essentially panting into my mouth, I could have adorned a kevlar vest and gotten lucky at this point.

I fumbled with the keycard when we reached the room, mainly because Brandi was cupping my balls and playfully squeezing my own ass from behind. “What an ass,” she murmured, fondling my buttocks. Funny, I get that said to me a lot, but it rarely has anything to do with my butt. But again, I digress……..

Once we mercifully entered the room, Brandi stopped me immediately and essentially pinned me to the door, kissing deeply and groping each other’s respective primary areas of size: her tits and my cock. She picked up my hands and led them to her massive chest while I followed suit and dropped her manicured hands down to my twitching crotch.

I unbuttoned her blouse with the same alacrity she exhibited while releasing my dick. She turned and rubbed her jean-clad ass all over my bare cock, allowing me to undo her three-snap bra. I glanced at the small tag just above the hook as before it fell to the ground: 38DD.

She backed up and massaged her own palms all over her chocolate brown areolas, which I estimated to be about three inches in circumference. While doing so, I reached down to stroke my cock in appreciation, bringing it to its full thickness and just over eight inches in length. “Beautiful, huge”, I mumbled to her, referring to her absolutely world-class tits. They were truly spectacular.

She knelt down in front of me, naked from the waist up, jeans and heels below. It was a truly sexy fucking look. “I was thinking the exact same thing about a certain part of your anatomy, Mister,” she cooed while bringing her palms to her lips and lathering liberally with saliva.

“I’ve been wanting to suck this big cock since I first saw you, even right there in front of the audience. What do you think of that?”

“That would have been wild,” I admitted, now flicking my cock onto her face. “But private showings are perfectly acceptable as well.” She smiled, her sensational blue eyes gazing up at me in pure, unadulterated lust. If she sucked cock as well as she kissed, I was in from one of the blowjobs of my life, and I have had many. More than many.

Brandi slid her hands up and down my thighs with her eyes glued to my hard on. She told me my cock looked wonderful sticking straight up, and how hard it was. I told her she made it like that. She slid her hands closer to it, and the first touch of her hands on my cock were electrifying.

She softly stroked the sides and tip so I could barely feel her touching me. My cock pulsed with a life of its own as I longed for her to grasp it fully with her hand.

One of her hands slid down to massage my balls, and she held them them in her hand while the other softly caressed the groove on the underside. She looked up at me and asked how that felt, and I answered her that it was marvelous. She again told me that my cock was “huge” and “beautiful”; words that every man loves to hear.

She kept stroking me with a very knowing pressure in just the right spots, especially in that ultra-sensitive area below the balls and just above the anus. Brandi knew her away around a cock, so I was going insane with pleasure.

Her touch was sending shivers down to my toes, and I was dying for her to put my cock in her mouth. Just looking down and seeing her intensely concentrating on giving me pleasure was helping to drive me crazy.

Then Brandi slowly brought her mouth to the head of my cock and wrapped her lips softly around the head and just held it there without moving so that I could enjoy the sight and feel of those first moments. Her jet-black hair hung down on my thighs as she slid her mouth ever so slowly and deliberately down so that she totally engulfed my erection.

Again she just held it there without moving so I could feel the heat and wetness of her mouth on me.

She slid her mouth up as slowly as she slid down and started sucking and twirling her tongue around the head. I told her how incredible that felt for me, and she hummed in acknowledgement.

One of her hands was still massaging my balls, while the other grasped the base of my shaft and started pumping a deliberate rhythm. Her mouth began sucking harder on the head, and I could feel an orgasm mounting deep inside my pelvis.

Usually, I can sustain great stamina and resist release while a woman fellates me. Not this time. I was ready to blow, Brandi’s talented cocksucking lips knowing precisely how to push my button.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Yer işareti koy Kalıcı Bağlantı.

Bir cevap yazın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak.