Amiga ISO Collection/AmigaDemoCD2.iso/ASCII/TEXTE/SEX/ADULTSHARE/A/ANNIE4.TXT

Text File | 1994-03-26 | 14.5 KB | 201 lines

@BEGIN_FILE_ID.DIZ
<<<<<Orphan Annie's 4th Adventure>>>>>@END_FILE_ID.DIZ


         Larry  gave me the robe.  It was lightweight and cool,  just  what
    was   needed   when the nights never  really  cool  down.    I  noticed
    that  when  I pulled it snug it showed off my nipples,   but  I  really
    think  Larry  liked it because when it gaped, it gave  him  just   that
    little   bit  of cleavage that men find  so  much  more  exciting.    I
    liked it, though, because it smelled of Larry,  who much to my pleasure
    was turning out to be a regular. Since  I  would be away for almost a
    week, I took  the  robe  just to remind me of him.  I was running
    this  convention--well, part of it-and  hotel living is supposed to be a
    bit more  modest than   tromping around  the house with nothing on.  Not,
    mind  you, that I expected  to have any real time to socialize, since it
    was going to be a series  of 18-hour days. Well,   there   WAS   going to
    be this ONE   dance,   the   second night.    I  at  least would have
    enough time--if  I   wasn't   already exhausted  from two days of work AND
    a day of preparation--to  try  out the  floor.   The  band was going to be
    halfway decent,  so   this  one respite was coveted just a little. Have
    you ever noticed how when you're content with things on  the home
    front is when you get some REALLY interesting attention?  I   know men
    complain about it, saying that  just  when  they're relaxed  with one
    woman is when they really get hit on, and I know there's  something to
    that, because when they're self-assured  (or maybe   just   assured of
    pussy?) they're  just  that  much  more attractive  (there's   this other
    theory, which  says  that  since they're  involved elsewhere it's safe  to
    fool around  with  them; maybe  that's  true, too).   Well,  I was  pretty
    comfortable  with Larry,  seriously  had   no   plans  to fool  around
    (not  out  of commitment, out of contentment), and I  was attracting an
    unusual amount of attention. This  older guy, not fat and horny like the
    stereotyped   out-oftown  salesman,  but trim, gray, cultivated, and
    probably   about  50, didn't  say much but kept his presence known.  He
    was  just frequently around,  and  more than once I caught him just
    looking  at   me...not STARING like the psychotics, just  an  appreciative
    glance.   None   of my coworkers knew him, and  he  wasn't  ALWAYS around,
    so  I just  put it down as nothing unusual.   I  had  his nametag  checked
    out ("L.  K. Kendricks"), and he was a  rep  from some  obscure
    manufactory back  in the Ohio Valley,  certainly  no one I'd know.  And
    certainly no one I'd go out of my way to meet. I did go to the dance.
         Some of my coworkers had to drag  me  away from    reworking
    (admittedly,   for   the    THIRD    time)     the preparations   for
    the  next day's activities, but I   did   go.    I thought  I'd  have a
    couple of drinks and chat it up  with  them.  Some had  their  husbands,
    and  one  or  two  had  found  someone  at   the convention.   What ended
    up is that we got a table near the  rear (like I  said, it took a while to
    get me out, so we were late) and before   I knew  it  I was abandoned
    there.  The girls  talked  for  only   a  few minutes, then dragging their
    guys out onto the  floor they had left  me nursing  a  scotch.   I  was  a
    little  tired  and   the  scotch   only accentuated it; before long I  was
    thinking  about things long ago and far away. The   reverie   was
    interrupted  by  this   rich   tenor   "Good evening."    It  was
    old LK, "Lawrence Knight" it turns  out  to   be, another  Larry.  Deja vu
    I was not prepared to deal with  tonight,  but I   couldn't   just   give
    a   cold   brush   off   to   a     kindly introduction.   I got
    permission to call him "LK"--he winced   when  he said   OK, but I
    couldn't stand the idea of  "Larry  II."    He  wasn't merely  a  sales
    rep; he was in engineering and  there  was  some   new process  here he
    was checking out; he had done his  job, in  fact,  and was  leaving next
    noon though our "show" had  another three   days   to run.  He was
    efficient  and  professional.   More importantly,  though, he  was
    generous,  getting  me to  talk  and,  soon,  even  laugh.   I switched
    from scotch to Calistoga and before long we, too, were on  the dance
    floor. LK  was  a good dancer but didn't make me feel like the   klutz  I
    know I am.  When we were dancing apart he'd flash  this  smile that was
    becoming  quite charming, and when we were dancing  close he   kept  me
    smiling with a few bon mots.  I was soon laughing  as he'd  point   out
    someone   on   the  floor  and  give  a   complete  description,  based
    entirely  on their appearance, as to where they lived,  what they  were
    here for (professionally  AND  otherwise), and  what they were like  at
    home.   It  was hilarious:  he'd  start talking about  another  person,
    then spin me around so I could  see over his shoulder while from memory
    alone he spun this incredible web  of  fact and fantasy that fit like a
    wet  T-shirt.   And  he moved  so gracefully, I could feel through  his
    jacket  he  was  fit without being rough; he was certainly  easy  going
    enough. When   we   took   a break I got these sly,  "I   told   you   so"
    glances  from  my  friends.  What could I say, they had  me!   When   I
    explained it to LK, he sort of smiled, and said he'd come to  the dance
    just to see if he could meet me, and I did feel flattered. When  we  were
    back on the floor, I told him I had  to  be   back reviewing
    preparations early the next morning.  It wasn't  late,  but I   was
    really enjoying this and I'd let it GET  late  if   I  didn't extract
    soon.  LK sort of frowned, but let it go at  that.  He said  he could tell
    I was tense and tired, more relaxed than an hour  ago,   but still  tense
    and tired.  Well, thanks a  lot,  guy (but   it  was  all true)!  He'd say
    goodnight, then.  By  the  way, though, would I have a break  tomorrow
    morning and could I come by his  room  before he  left? 1402?   Well, I'd
    see.  With  a  small kiss on his cheek I  grabbed  my purse and left. But
    back in the room the bed (a HUGE king size  number--god,  what was
    the    hotel  expecting,  a   menage   a    quatorze?)    looked
    particularly  lonely.   Sure, Larry would have  been  great,  but Larry
    was not here and Larry was--well, not  permanent.   Maybe, though,  his
    robe  would  make me feel better--no, in fact the smell just   made  it
    worse.   Calistoga  or not, two scotches  (were   they  doubles?)   had
    gone   to my head and I  was  alone,  lonely,  and getting  horny   (it
    had, after all, been three  days!).   I  rang 1402,  then hung up  when LK
    answered; he was there.  And  he  was leaving tomorrow; this,  too, would
    not be permanent. I put on the robe and not much else, put in a diaphragm,
    and  went for  a massage.  I figured there had to be a great
    masseuse  in  1402. When  he  answered the door LK was still dressed,
    though  out  of  his jacket.  He'd been sorting through his briefcase,
    and I could see that my  arrival was an unexpected brightener for  his
    evening.  As I  asked if  the  masseuse  was still in I saw his  eyes
    glance   down   to   my chest and it didn't take  long  to  get  an
    affirmative answer. First,   though,   he   showed  me   around--probably
    just    to convince  me there was no one else there, and that there
    had   been  no one  else.   Not that I cared, for he'd made   his
    availability  very clear.  I handed him a bottle of baby oil (all I could
    find--I   really hadn't been expecting a need for the  scented  stuff).
    Larry--no, LK-- took me to the bed and helped me out of the  robe.  He
    didn't grab for my tits right away, a little touch  of  class there, and
    had me lie  on my  stomach.   He sat beside me and slowly opened  the
    bottle  as  he talked  about  how my work  reflected  my self-confidence
    and  how  he really disliked mousey women.  Then he stopped,  rolling up
    his sleeves as sort of an  afterthought;  it took me a moment to realize
    the  pause was just him caring for his clothes.  He began to rub the baby
    oil over my back while talking about how good my back looked.  The man was
    class all  the way--he dressed well, he talked well, he kept  after
    himself, and he  made me feel really appreciated.  Just what the doctor
    ordered. He   finished   my  back (a few tough spots he   worked   out
    so gently I hardly knew they'd ever been there!) and started down my
    arms, stretched  out  over  my head.  I opened my eyes and  saw   him
    really throwing his body into it.  A little music?  Sure, and  he found a
    soft jazz  station.  When he came back I lifted my arm  up and  rolled
    over just enough to pull off his bow tie (NOT a  clip-on  job!) and undo
    the studs  on his tux shirt.  Then I just  fell back onto the bed  and
    let him finish my arms. I   told   him   my butt was  special--I'm
    really   aroused   by contact   there and I wanted him to take some
    care.  As  I  helped  him slip  the  panties  off, he said not to worry.
    The man  was   at  once gentle  and generous with his attention.  By the
    time   he'd  finished and started down my thighs I was really  squirming.
    I wouldn't   even let him finish my calves, I was really  ready  for him.
    I   rolled   over   and reached up to  his   shirt,   pulling   it
    quickly   off.  I sat up and reached for his  trousers,  startling  him
    with  my  speed.   He slid his shoes  off  as  I  undid  the  fasteners
    and  with  the suspenders down they just dropped to   the  floor.     I
    laughed  when  I  saw  the  polka-dot  boxers,   but everybody's got  a
    quirk, somewhere!  When he figured out what was so  funny he joined in; at
    least I'd had the smarts not to  laugh and point! He   climbed  on  the
    bed and we took each other  in   our   arms. First  a  tentative kiss
    and then a longer,  deeper,  exploratory  one. I  put  my  leg over his,
    and felt the hair on his  leg   awaken  every nerve  on the inside of my
    thigh.  His hands moved from  my back to  my side  to my boobs, and then
    his mouth went from my lips to  my   throat to  my  nipples.  I lay back
    and  felt  this   almost  primal   suction bring  me to full alertness.
    His lips and  tongue worked  my  nipples, and his hands worked my breasts.
    My mouth was open and I was  gasping, already. Then,  soon, too soon
    (don't stop!) he was continuing  down.   His tongue  explored my
    navel and that made my legs start  sliding up   and down  on  the bed.
    His hand came up between my  legs   and  cupped  my mound,  gently,  then
    squeezing  firmly, and  then  a  finger  started exploring.   His  mouth
    was kissing my entire abdomen   and  soon  his middle  finger  was sliding
    up deep inside me.  He brought  his   mouth down  and  his tongue played
    my clit for a  while,  then  replaced  his finger.  God, such a tongue! I
    had to return the favor.  I pulled him up and then  rolled  him over
    onto his back.  I slid one hand underneath his waistband and found what
    I'd  been looking for and then with the other   just  pulled  the
    waistband  down.  It was gorgeous--erect, waving in the air,  all  pink
    and throbbing.  I kissed the tip, then the  shaft.  I  licked the shaft
    and  massaged the tip.  It was getting wet  on its  own  and  I had  my
    first taste of this  man's  love  juices, something I always find  hard to
    resist.   I  took  him  into my  mouth  and   started  sucking  and
    massaging,  my lips running up  and  down his length as I took him  all
    the  way  back  in my throat.  My  head was bobbing  up  and  down,  my
    breasts were brushing his thighs, one hand had his balls and the  other
    was  rubbing his chest.  It was a one-man band and he was making  great
    music! He   had   me   stop and I couldn't figure   why--I   was   really
    getting   going.  Then I understood, as he turned around  and  put  his
    head between my legs.  Again, this fantastic  tongue  worked all   over my
    mound, inside and out.  I had him  almost  swallowed and was feeling
    great.   We must have gone on that way for  twenty or  thirty  minutes,
    and I remember coming at least three times. But he stayed with me--I'd
    never had a guy stay up after  so  much stimulation.    Is this what
    you get with  older  men?   His  attention to me told me he was still part
    of my team, so I  guess this was just a virtue  of experience.  But after
    three orgasms  I really  wanted   him inside and we'd find out just  what
    he  was really  made of.  I let go and turned around--now both of us  had
    our feet at the head of the bed. I  took  him in the traditional method,
    as his  weight  fell right on  me and he'd probably be able to pump
    just  that  much better.    I was right, for he slid right in and began  a
    rhythm that had me coming again  and again almost immediately.  Soon, his
    face  screwed   up  and his  breathing changed and suddenly  he  was
    spurting   these  fabulous warm  gobs  all the way up through me.   I was
    writhing and  must  then have passed out, between the  pleasure and the
    scotch.  I've NEVER done that before! I   wasn't   out  long, because the
    next thing I   knew   he   was slowly  pulling out.  Ohhhhhhhhhh.
    His smile was right  next  to  mine and  with a last kiss I just rolled
    into him  and  went  to sleep.    I vaguely  remember  him turning me
    around on the bed  and  his   pulling the covers up and over us, and I
    clearly  remember getting  my leg and arm over him, but until he woke me
    gently  at 6:00  (god, I could  have slept till 9:00, and missed
    everything! what a wonderful guy) I  don't remember a thing. We had a
    little quickie and then I stumbled off to my  room.  God, I could
    hardly walk!  First Larry I and now Larry II.  There has to  be something
    in that name!


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                    From the collection of -=*<Rough Rider>*=-
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