I think sufficient time has passed for me to finally blog about it. Besides, with so much shit going on in my life, I want something I can talk about that makes me happy: Sexual favors.
But it was going to be at this hotel, and it was a lot closer than the host's condo, plus the "party" came together last-minute because it was supposed to be the day before but got pushed back. All that, plus the fact that I was going to deploy my strategy of swooping in at the last minute, made me think I would have a good chance of "getting a dance" from *****e one-on-one -- and, because I'm a dreamer, get some hanky-panky from the others, too.
After working out I flew down the highway to the suite, which is just west of downtown. I find myself lost in this desolate empire of townhouses, so I call *****e to come get me. It was really cold, so I step into one of these complexes. It must be weird seeing someone going into a hotel and waiting for someone; don't the people who usually go to these things immediately go up into a hotel? That's what they're there for, right?
I saw a worker at the lobby. I pulled my lips together. That's how I say hello without saying a word. That's well-known body language, right? What must he be thinking I was up to? Hope I never see him again, but it is a small town.
Across the parking lot and into the foyer of the next complex I see this blonde jump down the stairs. Ah, the girl who's about to service me! I ignore the text she send and make eye contact with her. I cross over, hug, and bound up the stairs. I wanted to take myself out right then and there, but there probably were cameras.
I like hotels; at the very least they give the appearance of cleanliness, and they look pretty. The suite the sex party was in had an orange or pink theme, but it was very well appointed. It reminded me of the suite I had in Dallas when I was down there for a minor league baseball job fair and decided to make a week of it. For dirt cheap on Priceline I had a bedroom, a big bathroom, a separate living room and a door that separated it from the bedroom. Here, the living room (and kitchen) connected to two bedrooms as well as the bathroom. Nice setup.
Also, since this was just before Thanksgiving, there was a spread of food. Nothing like food at a party, but honestly, I was there for just one thing. Food was good, though.
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The good news was, because of the late shift in day, not many people showed up. In fact, I was the only guy there. I would usually be in heaven with that, having three girls all to myself. But then I started to hesitate. The two other girls there besides *****e are sisters, supposedly. One of them is a brunette whom I've never really spoken to. My first impression of her was when I visited the host's home (maybe they share the apartment, I don't know) and she commented that my pants were riding too low. That would be hot, but she said it like a petulant schoolgirl. It didn't help matters that later in the evening I accidentally went into one of the bedrooms which was supposedly hers and therefore off-limits. She yelled at me to leave. Well. ...
The other is the host, *a***, a big-titted blonde who used to work at My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Version). I could not help but notice all night that I could see her nipples through her t-shirt. I totally wanted to grab them and pinch them, or even better, forcibly lift up her shirt so I could look, feel, and bite the goods. Goddamn, protruding nips. ...
I would totally get naked in front of her, but there is one unique problem: She has a boyfriend I kind of know. He used to bartend at My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Version), and he was a really nice guy. To move in on her like that ... all I could see is his face, disapproving. Maybe I'd get over it if she's freaky and sucked dick, like *****e says. But I was too chicken to do anything.
Well, anything besides keep my fly open after I used the bathroom. I've told you guys about my main set of porno pants, the green ones. I have a second set, brown ones, that aren't as comfortable, and the fly isn't as big. But as the old ones are fraying (and as I'm searching frantically for pants like this, which seemed to have fucking disappeared from Earth!), I've come to rely on the brown back-ups more and more.
I didn't plan on it, but when I opened myself up to pee, then buttoned just the top button, the fly opening stayed open. I didn't really notice; I was just trying to get a sexual rise out of myself and the other girls there. As *****e was doing stuff and the other sister retreated into her bedroom, I began to talk to *a*** about, oh, how her daughter was doing in school. I just happened to look down ... and saw that I could see my mound of pubic hair protruding out. It reflected in the light emanating from the lampshade.
When I looked back up, *a***, leaning against the kitchen counter, couldn't help but look down at what I was looking at. At that point, her taking a quick peek, was such a fucking turn-on. I could feel the blood rushing into my penis. I wanted to take it out and show her how she made me feel with that look, but ... her boyfriend again. Not just the image of a man, but knowing this guy and putting the moves on his girl, just ... no. That's why I have to reassess whether I want to go this particular party. It sucks, but I just don't feel right if I have to blunt these urges.
My conversation with *a*** moved to the living room couches, where a mid-major college football game was on. The other sister retreated into her room, sick. But *****e was finally ready -- I don't know, getting her wipes ready or something.
She sidled up to me and possibly put her right arm around my left arm. Then she looked down and also saw My Black Hole Of Dick Fur. And then my penis grew again. Goddamn, I live for those moments.
I could tell that the corners of her mouth pricked up juuuuuust a little. *****e looked at *a***, either in embarrassment or bemusement. I did get the message across to *a*** what I was there for, and it's possible she finally learned what *****e was willing to do -- if she didn't know already. Either way, that too was hot.
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Off we went into the spare bedroom. Once she locked the door, she proceeded to quickly take her top off. I was getting into some small talk, but turned around and already saw that she had lifted up her shirt just enough that her tittays came free. I think I pinched her nipples, then I think I quickly pulled down her pants to reveal her sweet torso, shaved pussy included.
I wanted her to strip me; I think being unclothed by another is so sexy. But she, uh, didn't, so instead I took off my shirt. But I insisted on keeping my porno pants on, so she knew that that was part of her (hand)job!
She ordered me on the bed. She straddled me, totally naked. We made some conversation, and then the best part: She untied my pants and unbuttoned my fly (which I buttoned to make heighten the foreplay), then she reached in and reoriented my dick, which was dangling towards my legs. It was, unfortunately, soft, but *****e did all she could to make it hard, wanking me repeatedly, then forcefully.
At the risk of exposing my shortcomings, I was not erect the whole time she masturbated me. In sexual situations like this I rarely am. Performance anxiety, I guess. It wasn't her fault, not at all. But like in situations past, at some point during her stroking she told me we needed to "hurry up." Man, don't put my cock on a clock. We did take a lot of time, so much that I'm sure she has carpal tunnel syndrome. We switched positions, she turned off the lights, *****e even complimented me that she now thinks Asians are sexy. (I did all this for you, guys.)
Finally, the position that worked was a final warning from *****e and me standing up to be serviced while she sat down. At this point it wasn't pleasurable; it felt more like work. But she finally succeeded in priming my pump. My mewling cries -- which sound like a girl's, believe it or not -- made her anticipate my cumming.
When I came the first time, *****e sprang out of bed. Aw, she did that the last time! Why can't I spew onto her leg, like I did the first time we did this? Instead, she went to the closet. While I was furtively spurting semen (when more hand lovin' would have made it shoot out of a cannon; I know I could have done it, but didn't I pay her for the privilege?), she told me to cover it up with the comforter. I feel for the maid who discovered that.
Hundred bucks (plus five for the food spread) and that was that. I escorted her out after she told some weird story about another stripper we both knew being a pimp (???). I walked her to her car, and she gave me a kiss on the lips good night.
I want to see her again.
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