Tuesday, March 31, 2015

She Was Alone...


by Tommy Crown






 

 

It was another hot and humid night along the coast. Soft curling waves rolled on the sandy beach and deposited its foam and rushed back out to sea.




The voluptuous young woman known locally as 'the goddess'' was alone in her bed. Very alone.




The 'assassin' was gone now. Looking back, she cursed under her breath how silly the last argument really was.
 



The sight of him slamming the door and speeding away in his Ferrari was indelibly etched in her brain now. The accompanying words, "I won't be back!" burned into her head and heart.




Had he really meant it this time?



The goddess sighed and closed her eyes. One hand touched her right nipple as her other hand slowly crawled over her flat tummy. It was time to pleasure herself. Oh, how she loved her dreams.
 



They weren't actually dreams though. More like... remembrances.




The assassin was a big man. Well over six feet tall and powerfully built. Most women respond to big men with dimpled chins and chiseled features, and they certainly responded to him.

He was born into aristocracy and raised with great wealth. Yet, he favored the biker lifestyle and all that it entailed. He rode hard and played harder. His stunning looks were found on biker magazine covers, but the assassin looked stunning in Armani and Hugo Boss suits, too.




When he was on the prowl, he favored a long hooded black cloak.
 



The goddess smiled as she remembered how the red Ferrari would speed along the beach and turn sharply to the left and spin to a stop in front of her cottage. The door would fling open as he swung his long legs out before unfolding his frame. Then with one sweep of his right arm, the cloak would swish away from his body and float like a butterfly behind him from the oceans breeze.




Then he would pull back his dark hood as he strode towards her and tossed his long silver hair away from his face with a quick head snap. The way he moved, gracefully like an animal stalking its prey as he stepped onto the wooden porch always made her nipples tighten and wet her stunning cunt.




God, was he sexy...




Lately, the dream has been about their first night. The night he made love to her so gently at first; toying with her nipples like a cat toys with a mouse...swatting at it with his long powerful fingers before sucking it between his rich full lips.




The goddess moaned as she remembered how he wet her with the slightest touch. A soft gasp escaped her plum lips as she felt her warm wetness with her fingers. The pleasure intensified as she rubbed her treasure with the thought that it was his fingers...his touch that were driving her to the edge so rapidly.




The goddess opened her eyes and glanced to the left. The sheer curtains hung limp and lifeless. Where was the breeze that usually had them floating away from the window?




Oh, damn...it was hot. The goddess was sweating on the soft Italian sheets that he had gifted her with. She ran her hand along the fine threads and smiled at the opulent lifestyle he had provided her.




Thoughts of him in Milan last spring where he modeled for photo shoots all day and made crazy love to her all night brought her to another sweet orgasm. Then another. Oh, God....another.




Suddenly, smoke drifted over her nostrils. Had she not snuffed out her cigarette in the sterling silver ashtray bedside? A quick glance assured her... she had.




The bedroom door was slightly ajar.




Three perfect smoke rings floated through the mysterious crack in the door. There was someone there...she heard breathing.
 



The goddess propped herself on her elbows and squinted in the room faintly lit by the hall light.



"Baby? Baby is that you?"




The answer came swiftly as she felt her back hit the fine sheets, her legs forced apart by strong hands.The feeling of a big man with a broad back, bulging biceps and hard contoured pecs against her bare breasts had her breathless.




Then being stuffed with a big cock made her shiver.The angry wet kisses made her tongue go wild. The saliva dripped from her chin as she found herself in the throes of passion. The kiss was so hard, it whipped her into a frenzy as she arched her back and threw her hips at his.




Oh, how she moaned and cried as his manhood plunged to her depths spilling its first seeds. Followed by streams as he lifted his head and roared.




The goddess bucked hard against this mysterious intruder! Now, biting her lip and burying her head under his neck, she pushed her juices along his thick shaft where they escaped her excited pussy.




Her head tossed from side to side as she cried, "Oh baby...Fuck me...Love me...Fuck me..." then tightened her legs around his ass and squeezed the last of her orgasm out. Another gusher spoiled their bed.




Now, completely satisfied, she enjoyed the glorious afterglow... kissing and nibbling his neck. The low growl he gave into her warm mouth tingled the hairs on her neck and arms.




The goddess turned her head slowly so he could nibble her neck. She looked in the mirrored door of her closet...and only saw herself?




The unmistakable sounds of a Ferrari speeding away made her sit up and gasp!




What happened?




The bed was soaked; even she was soaked in sweat and cum. She ran her hands between her legs and wet her fingers. Then brought them slowly to her lips for a taste.




Then she knew. This was no fucking dream.




The goddess lit a cigarette and walked naked out on the porch wanting just one more glimpse of him.




Suddenly, something flew through the night air and stuck in the soft sand on its tip.



It spun and whirled sand like an ice skater on ice!




She stepped from the porch as the glittering, spinning object came to rest and swayed in the sudden breeze.




A broad smile lit up her face.




It was the sword of the assassin.

"Baby...please come back..."

She fell to her knees and sobbed. She knew by the way he fucked her...he'd never be back.

Some say they have seen him in his dark cloak hovering over a makeshift grave down the beach.

It's only marking:  'I could have been better'.

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

The Tommy Crown Files

Case# 1320



 

Manhattan, NYNY

April 15th, 1999



 

 
The day started about like any other workday in the city. I hopped out of bed at 5:50 a.m. and went to the pisser as usual. During my early morning piss, I ran my fingers through my long sandy hair, checked myself in the mirror above the toilet tank top, grabbed my Marlboro's and sucked in the first of many deep inhales that I would endure during the crappy day I had planned.

Oh, I hadn't planned a crappy day. I just knew that my assignment to interview an opera singer wasn't very high on my bucket list; but as a card carrying field writer for my latest employer, Society Slut's, it was the task assigned to me by my crazy publisher Harriet Harriman of Harriman, Inc.

Harriet and I had an on and off relationship during my brief tenure there. On when I was on her fucking her 60 year old pussy till it burped, and off when I wasn't. But, for 65 grand and a hefty expense account, what the fuck?

I then did my routine of push ups, sit ups, pull ups, and running in place before lighting another cigarette.

A hot shower and shave, a splash of Fendi, and after slipping on my best Calvin's, I punched my legs into my Haggar's, slipped on my standard long sleeve blue shirt, grabbed my grey Herringbone sports coat and dashed to the cab stand out front of my deluxe accommodations in Soho.

Then it was off to breakfast at the diner on 54th street that served up cholesterol by the pound, and two of the blackest cups of coffee this side of a mine shaft in Pennsylvania. Naturally, after indulging myself, I needed two cigarettes before I was back on the street in time for the 7:40 train to west fifth avenue and the palatial home of Felicia Carter, the aforementioned opera singer.

I preferred the 7:40 mostly because that was the train the hottest little Puerto Rican broad I had ever laid eyes on took to her crappy job off Lexington Ave. I think she was some kind of domestic, but not entirely sure since my Spanish and hers were no match. If the moons lined up properly for me, I usually fucked her between cars as I stared down at the rails whizzing by my glossy winged tips. Life in the fast lane took on new meaning in those situations.

But, she was one hell of a fuck and had the sexiest over glossed purple lips and tightest pussy that I could remember since I fucked Rosie Gernazio over in Little Italy. Another mind blowing teenager that had the suction of a Hoover to match her hot lips and slippery tongue.
 
The moons were not lining up for me that day though. I did see her, well...some of her. I'm sure those were her legs sticking up over the seat as some other horny bastard was arching his back and slamming his hips into her squeaky pussy.

Oh, well. I guess its just as well since I sure didn't need a face full of purple lip gloss when interviewing the woman known widely around New York City as having the best pipes in the business.

I jumped off at Battery Park and walked over to the former Vanderbilt mansion which was now the home of Felicia Carter, my opera singer. From the looks of things old Felicia was doing swell.

I'm not sure what a four story Greek Revival mansion was worth in NY, but I figure one that faced the harbor and the Statue of Liberty must have set her back a bundle. I smacked the three pound clapper to the brass plate a couple of times before it creaked open. I lowered my head to peek inside the crack and saw a woman of about 40 sipping from her gold rimmed cup before dragging the hundred pound door open.

"Tommy Crown for Felicia Carter please." I said with a smile and raised eyebrows.

"I am Felicia Carter, Mr. Crown. Please come in. Thank you for being on time."

She stepped aside and waved me in as if I were royalty. Then she led me to the drawing room and offered me a seat on a sofa that probably costs more than most cars. I unbuttoned my jacket and was about to grab the lapels and slip it off when she said, "oh, let me help you baby."

I glanced over my shoulder and I don't know if it were her glossy red lips or her calling me baby, but something had my cock swelling. When a woman calls me 'baby' it affects my highly trained cock in ways that are hard to describe. Somewhere between mild wiggle and a raging hard on, depending of course on the tone of her voice and texture of her lips.

Felicia had checked my boxes and had me embarrassingly stiff.

She grinned as she glanced at my tented slacks, then folded my jacket over her arm and said, "My, my...aren't you something. How big are you baby?" I could have done without the 'baby' as I now knew my pre cum was sticking to my brand new briefs.

"I'm 6'4" more or less."

I didn't think it was that funny, but Felicia Carter chuckled into her hands and replied, "I wasn't referring to your height baby. I meant how big is your dick?"

I sensed this interview was going to be a challenge, but had no clue we would be discussing the size of my dick. Since I was a man of some reasonably gracious manners, I answered, "I've never actually measured it, but I'd say it's in proportion to my body."

I hitched up my slacks as I plopped down on the oxblood leather sofa.

She winked. "I'll get us a drink."

Felicia walked to a drum table and poured two glasses of sherry before returning. She sat next to me and handed me my drink. I don't drink before 11:00 a.m. and don't drink sherry at all. But, this didn't seem like a request, so I nodded, sipped the sweet sherry and smiled.

The opera singer then slipped a cigarette between her teeth as I scrambled for my Bic. I held the flame under the tip as her puckered lips sucked the flame to the cigarette. We were sitting so close that I actually heard the crackling of tobacco as she drew deeply. My cock did a double take and I felt a tiny spurt wet my briefs a bit more.

The highlight of the lighting ceremony was her smooth open mouth inhale that made the inside of her sexy mouth look like soft white cotton candy. Since I have always had a sweet tooth, our mouths were clamped tight as our tongues met in candy-land instantly. Feeling no reluctance from her at all, and armed with a fully loaded cock, I laid her across my lap and proceeded to lick inside her smoky mouth while inhaling. If you think about that for a second, you'll realize that's a task for the highly trained. Similar to patting the top of your head while rubbing your stomach, but with a higher degree of difficulty.

I distinctly remember a sexy French inhale before snuffing out her cigarette.

The next thing I knew, my slacks and briefs were on my shoe tops and my cock was lubing the throat of the best pipes in the business as smoke poured from her sexy mouth. My hands were inside her satin housecoat in seconds where my fingers twisted and turned her puffy nipples until they were rock hard. The hot kissing began again as she dropped her housecoat revealing her unbelievable body. Rich full breasts with areola that had to be five inches across, a flat tummy, perfectly landscaped pussy, and curvaceous hips were now mine for the taking.

She lay her head against the soft arm of the massive sofa and only said two words.

"Fuck me."

I was happy to oblige. I laid on her as she guided my cock to her dripping pussy. Apparently, I wasn't the only one that had such animal instincts. One hard shove from me and one even harder hip thrust from her and my cock was living the good life in million dollar pussy!

Man, could the best pipes in the business fuck! Felicia matched me stroke for stroke, kiss for kiss, and gasp for gasp while squeezing her legs around me and digging her nails in my back. After an exhausting length of time, and plenty of sweat, I felt her hot pussy clamp tight against my throbbing cock while she gushed her sticky juices all over me and her pricey sofa. I gushed as she took my cock out and sprayed her face. My balls emptied as she milked them with her smooth fingers.

Felicia sat up, scooped my cum from her face with her forefinger, then sucked it clean. I smiled while she lit a fresh cigarette and slipped her satin robe back on.

Then she asked, "Now, about this interview, Mr. Crown." From 'baby' to Mr. Crown in a micro second. This bitch was fast.

I knew then that we were out of the fucking mode and entering the pesky landscape that one encounters when interviewing celebrities.

"Right...the interview."

I heard a booming voice bellowing from the landing at the top of the stairs.

"What interview? Is that you Mr. Crown?"

I glanced at the voice as I tucked my shirt tail back in my Haggar's.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm Tommy Crown.Who might you be?"The portly woman said as she came slowly down the stairs, with a cigarette in a gold holder held gingerly between her fingers.

"I am Felicia Carter, sir. I see you have already met my daughter Olympia."

I tried desperately to hide my happiness that I had fucked the daughter of the best pipes in the business instead of the real deal. The real deal was as round as she was tall and had a face for radio.

Needless to say the interview was very brief and the only newsworthy item I managed to get out of Felicia Carter was that she was heavily into BDSM. She showed me her dungeon complete with chains and a shitload of equipment that looked like it was manufactured by John Deere.

The deceitful Olympia walked me to the castle like door and kissed me softly.

"I am sorry about lying to you baby, but nothing else. Can I see you again?"

My answer was clear. But, that's another story.

 
 
Case #1320 closed. tc.

 

Friday, November 28, 2014

The Seduction of Mrs. Hunter




by Tommy Crown





Well, here I am alone during the holidays. I shouldn't be surprised.

After another disastrous break up, I’ve turned to my usual comforts; sitting poolside on my patio, drinking and chain smoking. Bailey, my little Yorkie and constant companion, lies serenely across my lap snoring.

Okay. So it's a bit eccentric, but I'm a 40'ish bachelor with a junkyard of broken dreams and promises in my wake, so I'm entitled to some self loathing occasionally.

Curiously, I find myself looking at the biggest moon I have ever seen as I try to get to the root of these ongoing problems that seem to plague my relationships with women.

After countless of them start with a bang, they typically go out the same way.

Most of the time, the issues revolve around other women…and me.

This one was no different.

Traditionally, I try to do my philandering outside my immediate neighborhood, but the old 'don't shit where you eat' theory was for other people. Not me.

I live in a small gated community on a tiny island called Sanibel along Florida’s Gulf Coast.

Unfortunately, my very young, very beautiful girlfriend Bella has family on the island.

The ‘family’ consists of her parents, Randal and Roxanne Hunter and her older brother Kenny. The Hunters have a spread in the Hamptons, a Manhattan penthouse and the cash and accent that goes with it.

Their winter home in Flordia is one street back on the ninth fairway of the Gold Coast Country Club, while my home faces the beach and the Gulf of Mexico.

Now, I have always been sketchy when it comes to getting too close to my neighbors since my lifestyle isn’t exactly main stream.

The full sleeves of tattoos that adorn both arms along with my long hair don’t exactly make me a poster boy for a country club environment.

But, the size of my wallet tends to make me more respectable.

I did enjoy the Hunters and had them over at least twice a month for some grilling and boozing. It was one of those events that I first met Bella.

Bella was only 20 and still shuffling around college with books stuffed under her ample tits when she popped over with her parents that afternoon.

My eyes soaked her up as she dropped her books on the kitchen bar before stepping to my open patio door. She propped herself on one foot, the other resting on her knee in the doorway that led to my spacious tiled patio.
Wind swept her long blonde hair over her face as she sucked on a long neck Corona.

I’m a big guy and reasonably well-endowed so my walk over to introduce myself had me tentative because the outline of my swelling cock in my beige linen shorts was plainly visible.

It was a warm day and my soft white shirt was unbuttoned revealing my bare chest.

Hi…I’m Garrett.”

 “Uh huh…I’m Bella and I know who you are Mr. Carkos.”

Mister? Damn, that hurt.

Really? How’s that?” I asked whimsically.

After growing up around lawyers and watching Perry Mason for years, I should have known better than to ask a question without already knowing the answer.

But, once again, my failure to learn from the past was about to bite me in the ass.

Bella replied, “You’re that guy!” then dropped the long neck Corona bottle in the trash and pulled my pack of cigarettes from my shirt pocket.  She shook one out, and then tossed the pack on my glass patio table.

My obsession with pink glossy lips on blondes had my cock stirring and it stirred even more when she slipped the cigarette between her lips and rolled it between her thumb and forefinger and winked.

I was a fucking goner.

My hands frantically searched my pockets for my lighter and found it buried under a wad of cash. I whipped it out and held the flame to the tip. My cock grew harder watching her lips wrap around the filter as she hollowed her cheeks on the inhale. Twin streams of smoke shot down the barrel as she puffed twice before doing a long French inhale. The thick smoke curled over her lips and drifted up her nose.

Damn, she was sexy. My cock twitched three times.

Long yellow hair with ringlets dangled over her shoulders, a delicate nose centered between ocean blue eyes, and a full pink mouth had my full attention.

My cock struggled to get to my waistband to take a peek at whatever had stirred him from his comfortable nest above my balls. Happily, he didn't make it.

Bella exhaled as I asked, “What guy?”

 Ass bite number two coming up.

You’re that rich biker dude that writes porn for those trashy magazines.”

Reality sucks.

My mind raced to find a way to make me seem like something more than a smut peddler.

I don’t know about rich, but I do ride a Harley and I do write some erotic stories occasionally for a few very fine men’s magazines.”

I did my best to look and sound respectable while tossing my ponytail over my shoulder with a quick, but stylish head snap.

Bella took a step towards me and ran her finger down the center of my bare chest.

The cigarette dangled from her lips as she ran her hand under my shirt and across my nipples.

It’s cool baby. No need to be pissy. I LIKE nasty older guys!”

Then as she took the cigarette from her lips, I glanced around for her parents. Satisfied that they were occupied with other guests, I turned back to the kiss I knew was waiting.

This was no ‘let’s get acquainted’ kiss. This was an open mouth, tongue rolling, tongue sucking, wet sloppy kiss that lasted way too long for my anxious cock.

I felt the tip sticking to my shorts since I usually go commando in my own home. She wrapped one leg around my calf and did a slow grind against me. The palm of her hand rubbed up and down my linen shorts, making my cock nervous as hell.

We pulled from the kiss simultaneously, and stared at one another for what seemed like forever before she asked, You want me daddy?”

I want you, but not if you call me daddy. I’m not old enough to be your daddy.”

Okay, a small lie at this point seemed rather moot.

She kissed me softly, “Okay, baby…whatever you say. Now, are you going to fuck me or are we just gonna stand here and tease each other?”she dragged heavily on her cigarette before flipping it in the hedges.

Now, I am not a man that hesitates when it comes to situations like this.

I grabbed her ass and pulled her to my raging hard on.

Just so you know sweetheart; I’m no fuzzy chinned college boy.”

Bella pressed her lips to mine and nibbled on my bottom lip. I tasted blood immediately. There was no stopping her now.With a flick of her tongue she mopped the blood from my lip and replied, “ Just so you know baby; I quit playing with Barbie’s years ago!”

Bella was on her hands and knees on my bed with my cock stuck in her hot ass in minutes.

That was almost a year ago. Her sweet ass has seen plenty of action since then.

My Bella was actually a dream girlfriend.We went everywhere together. From dances at the country club, to rock concerts; Bella had a way of fitting in. She had the pedigree, the name, the exotic sports car, and connections to the corporate world that I certainly never had.

Her parents run with the jet setting rich crowd. I run with bikers and pimps.

In public, she was elegant and classy. But, behind closed doors, she was completely uninhibited; fresh as the spring rain and as unpredictable as a tornado. To her, sex was an Olympic event and I should point out the only thing that kept her from being an Olympian were her 34 D’s. The girl was limber and nubile.

As a student of the Karma Sutra, I thought I had just about done it all. The Japanese beetle fuck and the Madagascar - I had down pat.

But, when she tossed me a Durban, which flushed my system so completely, I couldn't walk like a man for days, I knew she was the girl for me.

Think about having a rope with knot in it stuck up your ass while your woman sits reverse cowboy style on your face. One hand squeezes your balls while the other strokes your cock. The moment of truth arrives when she squeezes your balls until they feel like they’re about to pop, feels your cock swelling in her other hand, jerks it real hard and fast, grabs the other end of the rope with her teeth and yanks it out of your ass!

It’s too scary to describe further; just imagine drowning in your woman’s cum as your legs jerk, your ball sacks draw up into your body and your asshole quivers while your cock convulses.

Ahhh.

It's ridiculously erotic in a very painful way. But if you ever get the shot, I highly recommend it.

Sadly, after catching me with another bronzed beauty last night, she dropped me faster than Tyson dropped English Bob within seconds of the opening bell.

Bella had never displayed jealousy before and accepted my carousing with no hesitation. I mean, where the fuck were we going anyway?

Since monogamy and I parted ways long ago, settling down with anyone at this point in my life made no sense. Especially with one so young.

Next year she’ll be a senior in college with the world at her fingertips and after graduating, will be eager to run out and taste everything the world and life have to offer.

At my age, I've already been around the world and tasted most everything worth tasting, so there really was no future for us that I could see.

I had no complaints about our love life except that she insisted on hearing those three little words whispered in her ear so she could cum.

Oh baby…I'm so fucking close...tell me ..you love me. Please?”

Well, with a fully loaded cock, I couldn't very well deny her at this point now could I?

I love you.” I whispered softly while my cock went to defcon 4.

Again daddy! Say my name!”

I could have done without the daddy shit, but I was well past the point of no return.

Bella…I love you Bella!”

Defcon 5 finished us off.

My sweet maid Olive, a solidly built black woman about 60’ish, and probably a the fuck of her generation at one time, just shook her head after one of Bella’s sleepovers. Mr. G…you’re gonna end up killing that child someday. I declare the mess that little girl makes on these fine Eygptian sheets.”

As I think about last night now, I suppose Bella wasn’t as jealous as she was pissed.

Why?

Well, it was the night before Christmas for one thing.

But, I'm guessing the real reason she was pissed had something to do with the bronzed beauty on her hands and knees with her ass up being stuffed with my happy cock was her dear mom…Roxanne.

I was working up a good sweat pounding the stunning Mrs. Hunter's ass like it was the last ass in the world and all mine. Bella strolled into my bedroom bearing an armload of gifts.

The next thing I knew, the gifts crashed on the tile floor and the Popsicle she was sucking on zipped through my rubber antlers Roxanne insisted I wear, knocking them slightly off kilter. Then it smashed the nude painting of Maria Valenzuela that hung proudly over my headboard. Maria slipped down the wall behind the headboard- nose first like the Titanic, taking the cherry popsicle with her.

Subtlety had never been Bella's strong suit.

The wind slammed the door behind her as her mom and I tried to get back to some serious fucking to Vince Vance and the Valiant's bluesy , “All I Want For Christmas Is You.”

I found it hard to concentrate wearing rubber antlers and Roxanne's Santa hat didn't help much, either. But, what the fuck? I figured it was Christmas, I may as well get in the spirit of things.

Yes, oh yes baby…just like that!”She screamed.

Roxanne was panting like a tiger as my cock slammed in and out of her ass with a renewed vengeance. I held onto her hip with one hand while I reached around and under her to molest her swollen nub with my fingers.

Damn, the woman sprayed my new sheets when I brushed rapidly over her clit.
I slipped two fingers inside and finger fucked her cunt while my cock owned her ass.

Oh Jesus!...Oh Jesus…That’s right…Fuck that ass baby! Then cover it with cum!”

Since I do love fucking older women, my cock started reaching its potential.

I took my hand from her hip as my cock swelled. Then grabbed her long red mane and pulled her head back with a jerk.

She screamed, “Fuck yes!…hurt me!”

I brought my hand up from her squirting pussy and slapped her ass while I still had her hair twirled around my other hand. Luckily, I'm well co-ordinated. Pulling a womans hair while slapping her ass and fucking it hard is no job for a klutz.

Harder! Harder and don’t stop!” Roxanne begged.

My hand began turning as red as her ass.

Pushing back hard against me, “Give it to me baby. Put it in my wet cunt!”

Never one to argue, I slipped my cock from her hot ass, rammed it deep inside her dripping pussy and paddled her ass raw.

Roxanne Hunter was one of those women that just had to say something... even when she was fucking.

The dialogue went something like this:

Garrett!!”

Baby!!”

I’m a nasty bitch!”

Yes, you’re nasty bitch!”

I’m such a fucking whore!”

You’re most definitely a fucking whore Mrs. Hunter!”

Roxy!”

Roxy, you’re definitely a fucking whore!”

I’m a cock sucking slut, too!”

That too!”

What?”

A cock sucking slut?”

Better. Now, pour that hot cum in my cunt!”

Aww, fuck, fuck, fuck!”  

I growled as my cock poured on demand!

Roxanne was breathless as she whispered, “Ahhhhhhhh” and fell to her chest as I yanked my squirting cock out to spray her ass as requested. I did want to complete my assignment.

Once satisfied her still body was sufficiently coated, I laid down on her sweaty back and moved her long red hair from her neck so I could kiss it.

I noticed there was no pulse. I moved my lips along her neck. Nothing.

Then I visualized the headlines in tomorrow mornings’ paper.

Local porn writer kills socialite in kinky sex games Christmas eve.”

My heart skipped a few beats as I watched my life flushing down the toilet. I’m highly claustrophobic and look like shit in orange.

Suddenly, my life in prison was spared as the redhead began to writhe around under me. I slipped off her sweaty, cum soaked body and lay on my back beside her letting out a huge sigh of relief. She nuzzled under my chin and kissed my neck. Her orange fingernails circled my nipples matted in cum.

Then she glanced up at me with those sexy green eyes, “Wow, baby…that was some major fucking. My pussy is raw and still pouring all over these nice sheets; my ass is stinging, and I can’t seem to stop shaking.”

I rubbed her cum soaked ass and coated my fingers; then ran them over her plum lips. She licked them and said, Mmm, baby…you’re a nasty fucker yourself. Do you fuck my daughter like this?”

What could I say, “I did, but I suppose I won’t anymore.” Me being the realist here while Mrs. Hunter babbled on.

Oh, Garrett…she’s a 20 year old baby. What you need is a mature woman that can take that wonderful cock of yours anywhere... anytime. I do give as good as I get you know.”

In her defense, I had to agree. Roxanne loved sucking my cock. She really enjoyed smoky blow jobs. My cock would force the smoke out from her glossy lips and she'd cum everytime. She also loved to deep throat. A lot of women say they love it, but really can't do it and most don't like not breathing for a minute or so, but not Roxanne. She loved to hang her head off the side of the bed while I stood over her and fucked her mouth. When my cock penetrated her throat, she'd reach up and rub my cock's bulge on her neck.

Yeah, she was the supreme cock sucker at that point in my life.

But, honestly...that’s one of the problems with older women. They, and I’m speaking generally here, seem to need validation that they aren’t just as good a fuck as a teenager. They're better.

She sucked and kissed my neck again, arousing my cock from his resting place on my right thigh.

Roxanne peeked over my chest and noticed my cock twitching, “Please don’t tell me you’re ready to go again?!”

I pulled the hair that was stuck to her face and kissed her cheek.

I just need a beer and a cigarette. Then I’ll be good to go.”

All I heard was a sigh and some snoring.

Maybe this was one older woman that tested her boundaries and found them to be more than she bargained for. I knew she was all in.

I slipped out of bed, went for a beer and my cigarettes, then went back to my chair by the pool and thought about Bella and tonights fuck ups. I watched the moon crawl across the night sky. Bailey strained his neck to look up at the mysterious silver ball with me. I guess he was searching for Santa and the reindeers. He believes everything I tell him.

Subconsciously, my finger rubbed the spot where Bella bit my lip months ago and I grinned.

I glanced down at Bailey who was now on his back, rolling around and kicking his legs. A sure sign something was up.

I laughed, “She can’t stay mad forever…can she? Let's go call her.”

Bailey yipped, hopped to his feet and ran inside.

I tipped the bottle back for the last few swigs of beer, took a last drag of my cigarette, dropped it in the bottle and went back in the house.

Just inside the door, Bailey was jumping and spinning like he does when he wants to play.

There on my leather sofa sat the very naked, (except her Santa hat) very awake Roxanne Hunter. A cigarette dangling from her over glossed lips, a two foot piece of rope twirling in her right hand singing, 'Jingle Bells'.

Sitting next to her, wearing nothing but a smile and a green elf hat, twirling handcuffs? My sweet Bella.

She giggled, “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

I glanced down at Bailey who now was on his tummy-his front paws over his eyes.

Damn, I love Christmas.




 

Saturday, October 18, 2014

The Battle of New Orleans





I landed in New Orleans a little after noon on Thursday, April 15th. I was on a quest to buy another hotel for Carkos Global. The hotel limo picked me up curbside and I was surprised to see the driver was female.

"Mr. Carkos?" the pretty driver asked while opening the rear door.

"That would be me," I slipped by her and plopped down on the rich leather seat. She grinned and closed the door. I watched her walk around the front of the car and noticed her nice rack and tiny waist under her uniform. Her long dark hair fanned over her shoulders and her orange lip gloss shimmered in the noon day sun.

I knew I was there on business, so even though my cock was stirring in my slacks, I made every effort to control my lust. I opened the brochure for Ponchartrain Towers, the hotel dad wanted me to buy and thumbed through it slowly. The driver got in, lifted her arm to the back of her seat, looked back at me and said, "It's a great hotel with tons of history. I'm sure you'll enjoy your stay there. Alex is a great boss. She used to be a model. Vogue, I think." She then started the limo and we were underway.

Two things happened during her brief statement. My cock swelled at the up close sight of her spectacular mouth, and the idea that the person I was to meet was a Vogue model intrigued me. I reached for the business card that came with the invitation to look the property over and pulled if from my wallet. I stared at the proprietors name: Alex Champion. I wrongly assumed that Alex was male and was rather looking forward to beating old Alex during negotiations, something I was fairly good at.

Since this Alex was female, I knew I had to change my tactics. I didn't know a thing about her, although I had gotten the impression that the bombshell driver knew a lot. The sexual tension in the car was evident so I thought I'd start with her.

"What's your name, sugar?" I asked while reaching in my suit pocket for my cigarettes.

Our eyes met in the rear-view mirror when she grinned and replied, "Stormy."

I laughed, "I asked your name...not the weather, hon!" then took out my cigarettes and looked out at the storm clouds I had noticed from the plane.

"Jaden. Jaden Storm. My real name. Everyone just calls me Stormy."

"Cool name. Mind if I smoke Jaden?" I preferred Jaden to Stormy. That's when I noticed her jade green eyes. Her parents must have been pretty cool. Hippies, maybe?

"Not at all. In fact, if you could spare one for me, that'd be great," Jaden answered with a seductive smile. Things were looking up. I lit one for her and handed it over the seat. She took it to her orange lips and sucked it hard. I lit one for myself hoping it would get my mind off stuffing my swelling cock in her mouth.

Smoke drifted around her lips as she slowly dragged on the cigarette. Young Jaden was very provocative and knew it. I noticed her eyes glancing down at my crotch as I watched her in the mirror.

We came to a red light, so I decided to have some fun.

I slowly moved my left hand down my sports coat lapel. I wasn't wearing a tie and opted for an open collar with the top button unbuttoned. I watched her response when I unbuttoned the next button. Her lips parted slightly and she nibbled her lower lip, never taking her eyes from my fingers. I felt my cock swelling under my slacks and the outline was becoming very clear. I popped the third button and her sigh was audible. She sucked on her cigarette and smoke poured from her shiny orange mouth. I then slid my hand down to my crotch. She stared and dragged heavily. The smoke now oozed from her lips. I knew I had her full attention.

I ran my thumb slowly up and down the outline of my cock, keeping my eyes on her in the mirror. I wanted to see how far I could go before she said something. My cock was now stiff and the head was fully engorged. I began rubbing the tip on the outside of my slacks.

"You're killing me!" She half shouted and giggled.

I grinned and reached under my balls and tugged them up to give me some freedom. My cock twitched under the fabric.

"Want me to stop?" I asked with my devilish grin.

"No! I want to see!"

I un-zipped my slacks and pulled my thick cock out and held it straight up. She smiled and licked her lips.

"Oh, God. That's...that's the most beautiful dick I've ever seen!"

My hand gripped it and I began stroking for her. Unfortunately, the traffic behind us began honking.

"Shit! Shit!" She screamed as we sped away.

I smiled at her in the mirror and said, "Damn, you're so beautiful and sexy. Wanna help me out?"

She glanced back at me, "How? I can't pull over, hon."

"Just keep smoking and licking your lips. That's about all you have to do."

She dragged again on her cigarette and asked, "Like this?" with her mouth open. Smoke rolled around in her mouth.

"Yeah, that's very hot. Keep doing that, doll." My hand ran up and down my shaft. I noticed her breathing had changed and her shoulders were slightly slumped. Was she masturbating with her free hand? Her cigarette hand was on the wheel.
I leaned back and squeezed my cock and rubbed the shaft slowly. I noticed we had stopped at another light when she circled her orange lips with her tongue and said, "Faster, baby. I'm so close." She stared at me with half closed eyes. She was close. The sound of her heavy breathing inspired me.

I picked up the pace until my hand became a blur. My cock was loading with cum and I knew I was as close as she was. I saw her shoulders jerking and heard her whimper, "Oh, fuck!"

I looked at her in the mirror and my cock began spurting as she opened her mouth. "Right here, baby. Cum right here! Look in my smoky mouth!" Strings of my cum danced in the air and landed on the back of her seat.

"Yes, baby! More!" She shouted through her smoky lips and reached back over her seat with her palm turned up.

I yanked hard. Rope after rope of my creamy cum flew right in her palm! She licked some from her hand, then put her hand down her pants and finished herself off in style.

"Want a taste?" She asked as she reached her hand over the seat. I took her fingers and sucked the juices from them...one finger at a time. She was delicious.

"Fuck.That was so..."

The honking horns cut her off. But I agreed. This was so decadent and sexy. I couldn't wait to get young Jaden alone somewhere.

We arrived at the hotel on schedule. Jaden got out and walked around the car. I noticed she didn't quite look the same. Her shirt was disheveled, and not fully tucked in, and her face was flushed. She opened my door and I slid out, stood in front of her and tucked her shirt in.

"This isn't over. When can I see you?"

"Tonight. I'll pick you up right here at 9 p.m. okay?" We shook hands slowly and both grinned. I said, "Your hand is sticky." She grinned, "Wonder how that happened?" then walked to her side and got in. I strolled into the hotel lobby as she pulled away.

I'd had limo sex before but never with the driver and never without touching each other. This was one for the books. I just knew the day couldn't get any better.

But, it did.

A stunning blonde, probably early 50's greeted me.

"Garrett Carkos?" The diminutive blond asked while extending her hand.

"Yes. Alexis Champion?" I answered while shaking her hand. The thought of what that hand was doing only minutes ago had my cock stirring.

"That's right. Welcome to Pontchartrain Towers, Mr. Carr." Her hand was small, soft, warm, and I didn't want to let go. I sensed that she didn't either.

"Thanks, but please call me Garrett." Our hands seemed molded together.

The blond grinned, "Only if you call me Alex," then squeezed my hand tighter as she answered.

"Deal. Alex it is. So, what do we do first?" Our warm hands began to feel moist. I knew exactly what I wanted to do. Could I get her on the same page? I admit young Jaden had warmed me up and thrown me completely off the reason for my visit, and now couldn't seem to get sex off my mind. Not an unusual occurrence.

"I suppose I could show you to your room. How's that?"

I smiled, "That works. Show me the way."

Alex answered, "Good. Follow me," then dropped my hand and took off for the elevators.

Walking behind her gave me all the information I needed. She was hot, sexy, and she knew it. Every step, every click of her heels on the marble floor was clearly for my eyes and ears. The steps were calculated, causing her hips to sway just right. She was wearing a chocolate pencil skirt with a soft cream colored satin blouse open at the neck. I recognized the shoes as Gucci. I caught her scent that trailed behind her. Definitely 'Obsession'.

Confidence was high. I would have her, maybe not now or tonight, but I would have her.

We arrived at the elevators that were along the rear wall. I noticed a few large Vogue covers in silver frames along the wall. Clearly, Alexis Champion was a Vogue model at some point in her life. Granted, her face wasn't as fresh today as it was when those glamour shots were taken, but she still looked damn good.

The doors slid open silently. I liked that. We stepped in and they closed just as they opened. I didn't notice Alex pushing a floor button, but in seconds, we were on the ninth floor. I marveled at how quiet and fast the elevator operated.

"Yes. It's the newest that OTIS offers. I love it, too," she said with a grin as she looked up at me.

I smiled down, "I like fast and I like quiet. Perfect so far." I was hoping she received my subliminal message. Sometimes women don't.

We stepped out onto the thickest red carpet I'd ever seen.

"Is this carpet on all the floors?" I asked.

"No hon. Just the penthouse floor. The others are all marble, similar to the lobby."

She then stepped to the door and slid her key card.

"Come in...tell me what you think," she said as she stepped in and held the door open for me. Another whiff of Obsession assaulted my nostrils as I eased by her slowly. I glanced around at the elaborate furnishings and while I did enjoy the view of Lake Pontchartrain through the floor to ceiling glass wall, I knew she was setting me up. Most guests that can afford this kind of luxury stay at the Ritz-Carltons , Marriotts, or Hyatts. They don't stay at mom and pop joints like this.

"Nice. What does this go for on the weekend?" I knew traditionally, suites like this rent for four times more than their daily rate on weekends. I stared down at her awaiting her response. I could see the wheels spinning in her mind. If her answer was too much, she knew that I'd know this unit was seldom occupied. Too little means it's been used and abused.

But, Alexis Champion was no fool.

"What would you be willing to pay for this suite on a weekend?" She asked.

I knew then that I had met a real business woman. Fairly uncommon for someone with her background. Most ex-models I'd encountered could barely balance their checkbooks.

"No more than four hundred...not when I can grab a suite at the Ritz for less than eight. The Ritz also offers amenities that this hotel doesn't. Not to mention, Wolfgang Puck is the Head Chef."

Alex smiled, "You've done your homework. I'm impressed Garrett. Really, I am."

"Thanks. Now, if you don't mind, I prefer to stay in one of your less expensive rooms. Perhaps, something on a lower floor and not so grand?"

In the hotel world, the higher floors command the highest dollar. The lower you go, the lower the rate. I wanted to see where Joe the Plumber might stay. Not some celebrity or politician.

"Of course. But, honestly, the rooms are all the same, hon. Well, as far as size and views. The furnishings are the only difference. But, if you prefer one of those, I'm sure we can accommodate you to your liking."

With that, we left the ninth floor and went down to three. Once again, she stepped out, slid her card, and opened the door for me. I stepped in and she was right. The room was similar in layout and the view of the lake was just as spectacular.

"Cool. This works." I said with a grin. "And what is the rate for this on the weekend?"

"Only one ninety, and that includes valet and a real breakfast buffet." She answered while dragging the sheers back to the  side. "Look at this view!"

I unlocked the slider and stepped out to the terrace. The one thing I'd learned from traveling around the world was that every city has a distinct flavor. Hollywood has the smell of money. Dallas has the smell of oil. Tokyo smells of seafood, and New Orleans smells erotic. It is a city with a very old, very rich culture, and mixed with the smells of jambalaya and whiskey, smells like no place on earth.

"I love it. Have the bellman bring my stuff here. This is more to my liking, and I can tell it's a smoking room. Gotta have that."

She nodded, "Done and I agree," then stepped to me near the rail. I pulled my cigarettes out and offered her one. I'd never met a model that didn't smoke.

"Thank you, kind sir," she remarked as she pulled one out. She slipped it between her glossy pink lips and I offered her a light from my Dunhill. Her hand steadied mine as she sucked provocatively. Wisps of smoke escaped her lips when she puffed. Yeah, my cock reacted as usual.

I felt her little finger next to mine on the copper railing. I moved mine on top of hers hoping to get a reaction. I did.

"I won't sleep with you, Garrett. I know your reputation."

My pesky reputation always comes up at the most awkward times. This was one of them. I knew I had to counter with something witty and fast.

"Not ever? Or do you mean... not until the deal is done?" I wanted her to know I was still in the game. But, was she?

She leaned to me, stood on her toes and kissed me softly. Then dropped back down.

"I never mix business with pleasure. If you want this hotel, you can have it for a price. If you want me...and by the look of your slacks..."

I felt my cock pushing hard against my zipper. It pisses me off that women always know when a man's aroused, yet we have no real clue when a woman gets wet. My cock has betrayed me more than once and cost me some very fine pussy. I was determined to not let that happen with Alexis Champion.

"How much?"

She leaned back against the rail, "Seriously? You want to negotiate now?"

I knew I was going to buy the hotel before I ever got on the plane. All I needed was a number.

"Yep. Now. How much?"

Alex dragged heavy on her cigarette, " It's a steal at three four," then exhaled and tossed her cigarette in the wind.

I stared down at her. My dad called it the moment of truth. It's designed to throw your opponent a curve. Dead silence is the key. The first one that talks, loses.

The rule of thumb for buying a hotel was simple. They typically sell for around twenty five grand per unit depending on location and amenities. Her hotel had ninety rooms, plus four penthouses. In my mind, she had overpriced the hotel. It was her move. I stayed silent.

"Okay. two nine and that's as low as I'll go. Take it or leave it."

She dropped a half million without me saying a word. I had to tap her just once. "Two eight and that's as high as I'll go."

She grinned, "Deal. Now, take me to bed."

I picked her up and kissed her hard all the way to the bed. I laid her down gently. She dragged my coat off like it was on fire. I tore her satin blouse off and she gasped. We went at each other feverishly. I suppose it was the angst from the brief negotiation, but whatever it was...it was powerful.

Her legs were wide open and my full weight was on her in seconds. She gasped when I shoved my cock through her warm wet pussy lips. She moaned as I drove it deeper and deeper.

I felt her heels on my back, her ass lifting off the bed. She was hot and getting hotter. I began pumping hard and fast. This wasn't love making. This was good old fashioned fucking, and we both knew it. I felt her pussy spasm over and over. Her cunt was soaking wet. Every stroke displaced more of her juices. I was close.

"Do it! Cum in me!" She screamed and tossed her head to the side. I took advantage of her neck and bit it hard as her pussy clamped tight making my cock explode deep inside her.

"Oh Fuck!!" she screamed once more. "Bite me! Hurt me!"

I bit down hard and she cried. I bit down again and she sobbed. I knew I was hurting her, but that was what she wanted. Then she said something that surprised me.

"Love me!"

I didn't answer. Instead, I let my cock do the talking. It shot a steady stream of warm cum inside her.

"Yes. Yes, baby. That's what I wanted."

I laid on her and we kissed for the longest time. I loved her mouth. The way it felt on mine. The smell, taste, texture, and the way it fit as we tongue kissed had my cock twitching inside her as her pussy spasms continued. It felt strange for her to continue having tiny orgasms while my throbbing cock lay still inside her, but I loved the sensation.

Afterwards, we shared a cigarette, then showered. We fucked in the shower. I ate her pussy while the warm water dripped from her stiff nipples. She returned the favor and sucked my cock with the shower raining down my chest.

I'd masturbated with the sexiest female limo driver in New Orleans. I'd bought a hotel. I'd steamy sex with a Vogue model. What a fucking day!

It was a great day. Now, let's hope it's a 'Stormy' night.












Meet Alexis Champion...