Girls Night Out

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Cecilia Lion

It is raining, she hadn’t noticed how hard before, but she had been distracted. It had been all she could do to keep her face and hair covered as she ran out of the bar and to her car. A quick glance at the rear view told her that all was well, a little wiping here, a little smudging there – and she was a renewed goddess. She smiled her red lipped smile, batted her eyelashes – and adjusted the mirror just in time to avoid being blinded by the car beside hers backing out. That nice man that had offered her a walk to her car under his umbrella, surely so he could get one more glance at her body. She looked good tonight and she knew it…

The early evening had been the end of the rituals of daily life; rides to daycare, rides to baseball practice, dinner for the family at home hurried by her need to get a little “me” time this particular evening with the girls. She served little smiles, a neat and tidy dinner, kissed the man of the house on the cheek as she made promises about “early night – but don’t wait up,” as she’d walked out the door. Her husband had smiled and waved her on, sympathetic eyes urging her to “get out while you can,” as the door slammed shut behind her. She hadn’t spent as much time as a young woman would have getting ready to go out, but that was only because she wasn’t a young girl anymore. Fanciful debates about “what looked best,” were long in here past, and though she still considered herself a shopping girl, there were fewer “evening” outfits in her wardrobe, and certainly more mommy appropriate attire. This particular evening, while efficient, she’d managed to shave her legs (and everything else), get her hair and makeup in place in the 13 minutes she had to do so. When the subject of attire appeared, she surprised herself and chose a particularly sexy bra (the kind that you pay way too much for, and didn’t want to wear for an extended time – but looked great and made you feel 10 years your junior), a form fitting pair of jeans, and a bustier that showed off the bra in all the right ways. She’d glanced at the full length as she walked out of her bedroom, toward the garage, and remembered thinking “I’m me again.” Me before the two girls, the endless breastfeeding and yoga pants; me before the diet and exercise, the millions of miles on the elliptical and then again on foot through the neighborhood to ensure that the jeans fit in all the right places.

“No thank you,” she’d said to the nice man with the umbrella. She’d been watching him all night…watching her. It felt nice to be admired, her husband was too busy with work and more work – the days easily bleeding into the nights for him. It wasn’t that he was neglecting her, it wasn’t that she felt neglected….it was just nice to know that someone out there viewed her as an object of pure physicality without all the fuss of emotional entanglement, long term relationship mess… just in the “I’d like to see what you look like with those tight jeans around your ankles” kind-of way. She stepped out from under the awning and the rain hit her immediately. The night was warm – but this rain was cool, the goosebumps instantly tearing across her shoulders and down her chest. She could feel her nipples grow firm, and graze that sheer material in the bra she’d chosen, she turned and smiled at the nice man with the umbrella, glancing down as her swollen nipples peeked through the soft material of her top. “Guess you weren’t expecting a show – but I hope it’s worth it.” The man’s eyes widened, his eyes were fixed on hers, and she remembered thinking how noble it was for him not to stare down at her tits, and she realized then that she’d been smiling at him when she said it.

She had been there to meet a friend, a long desperate sexually deprived, long-winded, self defeatist friend. The early evening had been filled with stories about long lost opportunities, should have’s, would have’s and could have’s. She’d been lost in her own thoughts for at least the next two hours amidst the war stories and feel-bad-for me conversation. Not the way she’d intended to spend her one free evening, but at least there was alcohol and in great quantities. She’d caught the eye of a nice looking man across the bar, seated alone. He had that look, the one that said he was oh so obviously waiting for someone – and obviously going to be disappointed that she wasn’t going to show up. Yet every single time she’d catch the man staring at her, looking her up and down as if he was trying to figure out if she was why he was there. “Jesus, listen to me – I’m pathetic, at least you don’t have to worry about any of this” her friend suddenly had blurted out, “I mean, of all the husbands – yours is the best, I bet you get it whenever you want,” she finished. Sex? Had they been talking about sex this whole time, certainly her head nods, “uh huh’s” and “you’re rights,” couldn’t be quantified as “sex talk.”

“Sure, any time we want…” she said, timidly, half thinking her friend would pick up and move through that subject further – uncovering her secret truth.

Her husband was a sexual man, that was for sure, and so was she. Early in their relationship, they’d ankara escort solidified each others role – with he more dominant, and she more submissive. The sex was great, and still was…provided either of them got the time for it these days. No sadly, she was in the same boat with every other parent, sex starved, nearly vocationally. Long bouts of love making had given way to far more seldom, shorter romantic interludes. “Quickies were just as good as long-ies” she’d always tell him, but the truth was, they’d had marathon sexual encounters early on, and she missed those. She masturbated all the time, any chance she got – in the morning in the bath, late at night while everyone was sleeping, sometimes feet spread – hand against the wall – furiously stroking her tiny clitoris in the closet while getting dressed – any chance to come would center her, get her through her day. Her husband had been okay with it, even encouraging on multiple occasions – the need to see her please herself was evident when he caught her with her hand in her pants. Often times, he’d help, moving his fingers alongside hers, inside her up into her moist, damp places while stroking her soft skin – it wasn’t enough. Sometimes, she wanted to just be fucked, have her pants yanked down around her ankles, her hair pulled, bitten gently as she was violated from behind. There wasn’t enough of that these days – and through no fault of anyone but two tiny shrieking people who’d rather see her tits used for food rather than see them used for her sexual gratification.

She was wet, instantly – it made her a little uncomfortable, sitting there with a friend half drunk out of her mind. She raced to find the reason, and it was all she could do not to come in her pants when she replayed the thought process back and got to “I just want to be fucked.” She shifted in her seat nervously; had all these people noticed, had her friend – that she was soaked and every attempt to move her pelvis was slowed by her own avoidance to come all over the seat? What was it about the idea – getting fucked, having no emotional attachment to the physical act, she wondered, composing herself. She stood straight up, announcing to her friend that she needed another drink and made her way to the bar and back and took at deep breath as she sat back down. All at once, she was comfortable again, a quick scan of the room had indicated that no one was the wiser…until she looked at that nice man who’d been looking her way. A long smile dragged across his lips as her eyes caught his, he quickly turned his gaze down into the bourbon glass pushed to his lips. He was very good looking she thought, green eyes, an easy smile, hair seemed long and scraggly but wet – looked neat and pushed back. He looked like a man after a woman, his clothes were neat but not impeccable, he needed a shave – and why on earth he’d chose to meet a girl in a dive like this, a nesting ground for drunken soccer moms and PTA refugees was not exactly a happening night spot.

“Not exactly the show I was hoping for,” the man half yelled across the parking lot – the rain obscuring the subtle nuances of his voice, “but if it’s a preview, I’d be happy to pay the price of admission to see the whole thing.” She was back in the moment, her skin was alive, she could feel each little raindrop as it caressed her skin and rolled down her arm.

“And what do you think the price of admission will cost you” – she returned sharply, her hands sliding up over her arms, in a coy attempt to show that she was chilly – and push up her tits at the same time.

“Discretion?” he replied bemusedly, motioning to the wedding ring on her left hand.

This was real, it was happening, and altogether faster than she had time to process. Was she proposing something here? Was he? Had she started it? It certainly seemed that he was willing to end it. She hesitated and he started toward her slowly, folding down the umbrella as he moved closer. The rain danced off the top of his head, his large shoulders….first soaking into his jacket, and then bouncing off as it became saturated…she thought this is what it must feel like to live in slow motion – each step he took toward her dragging her closer to acting on a foolish drunken flirtation. “Come on, what do you have to lose?” he stated boldly. She started to answer an he cut her off – “You can come with me to the hotel around the corner now – and whatever happens happens, or you can go home and then spend the rest of your life with your hand in your panties fantasizing about how good it could have been…I’d rather know, wouldn’t you?” And with that, he’d closed the distance between them – he was on her, she could feel the breath, his bourbon stained breath as he uttered again, “Wouldn’t you?” She nodded hesitantly. The very thought of having to wonder was tortuous, how she’d have to sneak off into her closet, fuck herself silly wondering how and why and what if…It was all to painful to conceive of – and she wanted him, now. She leaned forward lips almost touching his as she put her cheek on his.

“What room?”

She managed to get in the car without so much escort ankara as a peck on the cheek, and unseen by anyone still in the bar. Her friend had made off with some regional sales something or other from the county next door – and she’d made her exit graceful. The little brass key on the big diamond plastic key chain with the number “4” was all she could think about. It had been an early evening for her, far earlier than anyone would expect her at home – and it was devilishly perfect how well this had all fallen into place. Part of her wondered if it was meant to be and the other half wondered if temptation always seemed like the right thing to do. The car squeaked to a halt, obviously some fault of hers for not getting the brakes checked, or serviced…or whatever it was you were supposed to do with brakes, then she thought about the empty car seats glaring at her accusingly from the back seat…

“Stop it, just stop it,” she said out loud to herself. She looked over and noticed that his car was already there. It had taken longer to get here than she thought. She stopped at a convenience store on the way over and fumbled nervously with cash to buy condoms from the clerk. She must have looked like some frantic college student, hornily running from one location to the next, but maybe not, as the clerk hadn’t even given her a second look. She took the small box from a plastic bag, and then dumped the contents in her purse – this was a stranger after all, didn’t it warrant being safe? She looked up as the silhouette of the man moved in front of the open window of the hotel room. His naked body was illuminated only here and there by the streetlight as he pulled the drapes closed. “Maybe I just need to get it out of my system, maybe I just need to come,” she thought as he disappeared into the blackness. The light clicked on making her feel like she was watching some perverse shadow puppet theater, his body in shadowy likeness in the view. She slid her hand down in her pants, fingertips moving inside her wet slit, her free hand moved over her breast and pinched her nipple ever so lightly. It was too constricting, her hand was pressed too flat by her jeans to move about substantially, and she arched her back so that she could push down her jeans to get better access. There she sat, front seat of her luxury SUV, furiously masturbating – fingers pinching and pulling at her tiny swollen clitoris – the gentle folds of her labia becoming increasingly wet. Hips bucking, nipples aching she came once, and hard – it wasn’t enough.

She moved into the room cautiously, intentionally jingling the keys as to alert him to her presence. There was no movement and the room appeared empty, save for the sound of running water in the shower. The room was cheap, decorated originally in what was surely a vibrant shade of tan or beige with egg shell covered walls. It was dingy now, years later. Maybe it was because it was dark, or maybe it was just a cheap, shitty, smoke stained hotel room – but everything felt gray, worn, beaten by time and thread bare. The lamps on the coffee tables adorning both sides of the king sized bed were both off, and only the light from beneath the bathroom door – a golden steamy hue. No bags, no suitcase, just pants thrown over a chair in a hurried attempt to get in the shower before she got there. Only on the bed was there anything of interest, and of interest – there certainly was one item. A crumpled up silken bright red nighty was thrown casually in the center of the bed. She looked at it, wondering for just a moment if was the remnant of some former tenant – then realized that a room like this was picked clean of anything by housekeeping. No, this garment was meant for her. The shower ran, no other noise, only a steady stream of golden illuminated mist from beneath the door and an invitation to change.

She approached the bed carefully, waiting for someone or something to stop her. It didn’t. She picked up the red negligee and held it up – it was a little short for her, but looked to be the right size elsewhere. “Why not, you’ve come this far,” she said, pulling here top off, exposing her sexy bra – certainly the progenerator of this whole wicked affair. Her jeans slipped off just as quickly, and she could feel the wetness in the seat as she pushed them off her butt. There she stood, wearing only a bra in this strangers hotel room – she’d never felt more naked, more vulnerable. The clasp on the bra snapped approvingly, and her breasts fell free. She liked the feeling of the sheer material as it grazed her nipples as she removed it. She took notice of herself in the mirror – one of the half models that sits above the bolted-down TV in a shady venue like this. She looked good – her breasts were full still, despite the damage done by her two kids. Her nipples a light pink sitting even ( a trait she found both surprising at her age, as well as very welcome). Her stomach was flat and her ass had been lifted by all those seemingly endless miles both in and out of the gym. No cottage cheese, no stretch marks, even some muscular definition where she hadn’t noticed previously – this mirror ankara escort bayan was good to her, and she liked what she saw. The water in the shower cut off abruptly, and the sound of the curtain being thrown back threw her heart into palpitations. She pulled the red top over her head and worked it down the length of her body.

The garment itself was nice, nothing cheap, but not fancy. It was fire engine red, with lacy embroidery around the breasts – frill along the edges. It came down “right above the bottom of her bottom,” – and she giggled at the way the words rolled off her tongue. She could hear the ruffling of a towel; he would be with her soon – here in this room, here with her half-drunk naked in this little nighty. She sat down on the bed, legs pushed together firmly at the knees – she struggled with where to put her hands before putting them behind her and leaning back seductively. The door opened and he was there, naked as the day he was born. His build was large – big shoulders, broad chest, narrowing toward his hips. His penis was large enough for her. It surprised her how easy and comfortable it was for her to look right at it – and he smiled as he realized where her eyes were trained. He turned away, back toward the mirror in the back of the room, musing at himself in the mirror as she watched.

“I see you found the present…you like?” – he said absently

“I do, it fits…I’m not sure how you managed that…” she started, but was cut off.

“It’s not important how, it’s important that you like it, I’m pleased that you do,” he finished, as he walked toward her.

Her eyes raced up and down his body as he drew near – back to his penis, now filling with blood – not erect, but fuller now that before. “I want to suck it…” she started, “I want to feel it in my mouth before I start to think about my fami…” And with that, he pushed his cock in her mouth – easily at first, pressing it against her lips, she took it in her mouth fully. She could taste the skin, fresh and clean from the shower, the little hairs down the side brushed against her lips as the swollen head pushed over her tongue and toward the back of her throat. She seized his hips, at first to control the pace – but found that she wanted more, used his hips to push his member in her mouth further…the tip now on the back of her tongue. His hand moved to her hand, down her arm, slowly running the length to her shoulder, then cupped her head as he pulled her head down on his cock further. His balls were firm, resting neatly below his cock – she moved her right hand down and massaged them as she sucked and stroked his cock with the other. “God you taste good,” she uttered – dragging his cock out of her mouth – inhaling deeply as if it’d been choking her – her own saliva and his pre-cum drizzling down the side of her mouth.

“You suck good cock he said,” She tensed…she could feel herself getting wet again, she pulled her knees closer together – inward, clearly rubbing her thighs together to masturbate, little moans and cries muffled by his hard dick in her mouth broken the sounds of slurping and sucking. “So do you just like to suck cock, or do you like to get fucked in the mouth?” He said, pushing her back on the bed, the lingerie pulled up, exposing her wet slit. She drew her knees up, spreading open her soft wet pussy. He dragged a hand up her calf to her knee, and then down her thigh and moved his fingers over her glistening wet pussy and ass. “You do like to suck cock don’t you? He started, “Let’s see if you like getting fucked in the mouth as much.” -He moved beside her on the bed, kneeling with his hips at her head – he fell forward catching himself with big strong arms and she opened her mouth for his cock to slide in. “You can play with yourself while I fuck you,” He finished. Her hands moved down between her legs, fingers spreading and sliding in and out of her. She pinched her swollen clit hard as he bucked his hips toward and away from her. She came once, and nearly bit him as she did. The only thing stopping her was the thickness at the base of his cock being pushed all the way against her mouth. The full length of the shaft of his penis was now in her throat. Surely she would gag, she thought – but it didn’t happen and he kept on fucking her mouth as she played with herself.

“Let’s see how much you like it,” he said, sliding his hands down her body – across those great tits, pinching those lovely pink nipples on the way down – over her flat belly and down between her legs. His fingers now met her own – and she was wet like never before. He slid two fingers inside her at once – she’d never had that – her husband was typically delicate, a by-product of watching child-birth she supposed – but this was different. It was “being fucked” and she loved the feeling as both fingers pushed all the way up inside her. She pulled her head back, his cock slipping out and sitting on here chin as she moaned uncontrollably. He moved his fingers in and out, in and out – deeper and deeper with every plunge. She came again, hard this time, her hips matching his pace, her ass lifted off the bed as if she was being held up by some unseen entity. When she came, it was if a flood poured out of her. Soaking her fingers, his hands, her pussy and ass…she was wet beyond anything she’d felt before and she came harder than she thought possible.

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