My Day out of Town
Publish Date: Jun 5, 2008
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By the time I got to the airport, I was in a pretty pissed-off mood. I woke that Friday morning thinking sexy thoughts about Mark and the trip. He had emailed me and told me to pack a long-weekend bag for Nassau.
I took a long relaxing shower and thought of what Mark might have planned for me. We had never gone away together, and we had certainly never been together for more than one long evening. This was going to be an entire three-day weekend! A stray devil in my brain thought that, more importantly, it would be two whole nights; we would actually be able to wake up with each other.
As I soaped up my breasts, I idly thought back to our past two encounters. Remembering the scenes in the limo, I ran my hands around and across my areolae and imagined it was Mark’s hands. Frank’s (or Francoise, as she preferred) fingers substituted in my mind while I lightly pinched my nipples.
I ran my right hand down my smooth belly and around to the curve of my hip. I started to inch in toward my pussy, but I stopped myself, thinking of the last time I had taken a shower in preparation for my first meeting with Mark. I had come very close to coming that time, and I knew if I got too close, I may not have the same will power to stop myself as last time. I love to draw out my excitement. I find that the longer I hold off orgasm, the deeper and more satisfying it is when I finally come. If I come before the actual climax of the moment, my orgasm is not as intense later on, so I wanted to hold off to increase the tension.
I soaped up the sponge and ran it down my right thigh, across my knee, and down to my foot, where I squished the sponge in between my toes. Then on to my left foot, squishing my toes, up my calf, around the back of my thigh, and up across the curve where my thigh meets my ass. I rubbed in slow circles across my left cheek, then reached around with my right hand and worked on the right cheek for a while. I traded off from left cheek to right cheek and back again for a while, until the mix of rough sponge and smooth suds had me starting to get pretty worked up. I had the sponge in my left hand, and I let my right hand drift in and down to my ass crack. I dropped the sponge and grabbed my left cheek to hold my ass, while my right hand traced slow circles around my asshole.
At this point, I said fuck the tension, I want to come! I slid my left hand around my hip, down the crease between my thigh and my pelvis and straight to my pussy. I ran my soapy fingers around the outside of my labia, then along my slit. I put first my middle finger in my pussy, then two fingers, and stroked them in and out. I could feel that familiar fire in my belly and my pussy started to twitch as I started coming. I pushed my right middle finger into my asshole, causing my pussy to clench tightly around my fingers. I held on tight to my pubic bone, flicked my thumb across my clitoris, and rode out the wave.
When I pulled my fingers out of my pussy and ass, the sensations caused my body to shudder a couple times. I quickly rinsed off, turned off the shower, reached for a towel and buried my face in it. I thought, that was pretty fucking marvelous. Oh well. Mark would just have to drag out my pleasure longer that night, which was OK with me.
I put my hair up in a towel, put on my robe, and went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. As I sipped the hot sweet liquid, I thought about what I should take with me. We were going to the Bahamas, so I didn’t need any warm clothes except what I wore to get to the airport. I decided on a green silk dress with slim straps that came about 1/3 to my knees and, of course, my LBD. As I packed, I put in a nice assortment of slinky lingerie. What little underwear I wear is usually small, thin, lacy, or a combination of all three, and always sexy. I also put in a sexy apricot wispy slip nightie with its matching tiny V string. A couple sexy bikinis, a few makeup items, and a couple pairs of strappy sandals topped off my small roller bag.
I expected Mark to pick me up around 9. Around 8:30, he called to say he got stuck in some corporate thing and would I mind going on and then meeting him at the hotel that night? I was disappointed of course, and I could hear the disappointment in his voice, but he assured me that he would be there around 9 that night and he would find some way to make it up to me. I told him I understand and I would be waiting breathlessly for him. He gave me the details of the hotel and the room; he said it was some governor’s suite or some such and said I would just have to give them my name and all would be taken care of. I put on my coat and went out to hail a cab. Of course, wouldn’t you know it? The sky took that moment to open up, and I got drenched in the short amount of time it took to grab a cab, put my bag in MYSELF, and get in the back. The driver was one of those ubiquitous foreign guys who seem to drive all the cabs in this city, and it smelled pretty funky, a mixture of some sort of spices and week old vomit. I told him to take me to the airport. You’d have thought I told him I wanted to go Mars. He started complaining in a barely-understandable mixture of English and something else about traffic and the “godam” airport and screaming at the other drivers, most of which were other cabs jostling for position in the crowded, rain-soaked streets.
He looked back to tell me that the traffic was a mess and he wanted to take another route to the airport. It would be longer in miles, but it should get me there faster. The whole time he was talking to me, he kept staring at my breasts, and I felt creepy as I zipped up the jacket of my jogging suit (I like to travel in comfortable, non-restrictive clothes, especially these days with Homeland Security and all). I said go ahead, let’s just get there.
Of course, the traffic was bad everywhere. I don’t know if we actually saved any time going that route; it seemed to take forever. It didn’t help that the driver kept swearing at other drivers and giving me creepy looks in the mirror. To top it off, he started berating me when I gave him “only” $5 for the tip. So, by the time I got to the airport, I was in a pretty pissed-off mood.
I walked up to the counter. The ticket agent looked apprehensive, so I know I must have looked harried and angry. I took a moment to calm down, gave him my name, and said I was going to Nassau. Ah yes, Mark had already phoned and switched to a later flight, and would madam like a window or aisle seat? Well, at least SOMEthing was going right.
I took my ticket, walked over to the TSA booth, answered the stupid questions about no, nobody packed my bag but me and so forth. Then I had to go through the screening station, taking off my sneakers and putting them back on. Some lady that looked like she could kick several marines’ asses went through my purse ’cause they saw something suspicious. I knew she was enjoying this, because she saw how fed up I was. When I got through that, I took the people mover over to the main terminal, then went straight for the ladies’. My hair was a mess, and I really did look harried. I touched up my makeup and fixed my hair as well as I could, then went out and down the terminal to my gate. At least I got to get on the plane first, as Mark had been thoughtful enough to get first class tickets. The stewardess looked sympathetic and asked if I would like a drink. I don’t like to drink alcohol on planes, because bad weather can make me nauseous and alcohol just makes it worse, so I just had her bring a bottle of water.
Tell me something: why do they build planes with first class in the front, so that all the people in coach go by after you get on? And they carry seemingly everything they own onto the plane. And everybody was grumbling at the weather, and honey, why didn’t you get first class seats, and mommy, look at that lady’s funny hair.
The flight was pretty rough, so I was glad to not have anything in my system but water. The captain called it “slight choppiness” but I called it gut-wrenching. We finally came into some sunshine and out of the “choppiness” as we approached Nassau, but, wouldn’t you know it, the landing was rough. We actually bounced a couple of times off the runway before the pilot finally got it down, then he had to brake hard to make up for the lateness of getting the wheels on the ground. When we pulled into the gate, all I wanted to do was get out of that plane, and dammit, I was the first one off!
The first blast of warm air hit me as soon as I stepped off the plane. It was a beautiful sunny day, with a nice warm breeze. I walked down the jetway stairs, into the terminal, and along the halls lined with Bahamian touristy posters with pictures of beautiful people enjoying the sand and the pools and palm trees. I loved the beautiful sing-song accent of the various officials I seemed to breeze past. I got my bag, and the customs guy asked me if I was here for business or pleasure. I heard myself answering in a somewhat startled voice “Pleasure”. He looked at me, smiled, said have a nice time in the Bahamas miss, and handed me my passport.
The hotel had a Lincoln Town Car pulled up to the curb right in front of the exit. I just looked at the driver standing by the door and he knew right away that I was the one he was there to get. He touched his cap, whisked my bag into the trunk and opened the door for me in the back. The car still had that new-car smell, and we drove along the beach on the north side of the island, past white sand beaches, food carts, lots of old stone walls in various stages of decay, new McMansions, older stucco houses, coconut palms, and everywhere gorgeous exotic flowers.
We took the bridge over to Paradise Island, then he made a few turns and went around a couple of crazy traffic circles, then we pulled up to the entrance. Everybody was so attentive and had big smiles, from the guy holding my door, to the front doorman, to the check-in woman to the bellhop, so that almost before I knew it, the bellhop was opening the door to yes, the Governor’s Suite. It was amazing! Lush furnishings, breeze blowing through the curtains, wonderful-smelling flowers in several vases placed around the suite. It had a gigantic living room with two very comfy-looking sectional sofas, a big screen TV and another one in the master bedroom, another bedroom, and two full bathrooms. The master bedroom had its own bath, with a heart-shaped hot tub and a shower big enough for half a dozen people, with nozzles all over the walls and ceiling.
When the bellhop left, I tried to tip him but he said Mr. Mark already took care of everything and just call if I needed anything at all. What a quaint expression, I thought: Mr. Mark. He mentioned that he could set up a massage if I liked; I guess I still looked pretty frazzled. I told him no, maybe later and he left. I walked out onto the balcony and took in the pool that snaked around what seemed a tropical forest, balconies on other rooms across the way, a big beautiful beach, and the ocean beyond. I took in a deep breath. I could smell a faint burny smell, like the sun had simply baked all exposed surfaces. As I let out my breath, I could feel the tension, while still there, leaving my body. There was still a tight spot in my shoulders that wasn’t going away, though. I walked back in, picked up the phone and asked the operator for the spa. When she connected me, I asked if there was any way I could get a massage on short notice. The woman, again, in that beautiful lilting accent, told me that the only person available at that moment was Richard and would I like to come down or should he come up to the room? I know I hesitated at that point, as I had never had a professional massage from a man before. The woman informed me that all of their staff were fully certified professionals and that Richard was no exception. That was enough for me at that point, because my shoulders were aching, so I said OK, and she said he would be up in a few minutes.
I quickly took a shower to wash some of the stress of the day off, and I had barely wrapped a towel around me and another around my head when there was a knock at the door. I opened the door to a black man who introduced himself in a professional voice as Richard. He was wearing red running shorts and a blue sleeveless T shirt, what I guess they call a “muscle” shirt. I guess it’s a pretty apt descriptor, because his arms were pretty big. Guess it goes with the territory, him being a masseur and all. I stood aside as he carried in his folding massage table and a bag. I pointed out that the only place in the suite that seemed to have enough space to set up was in the master bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed while he set up the table and spread a nice clean white sheet on it, then tucked it in around the corners. I enjoyed the rippling of his muscles on his arms and shoulders as he set up. He finished by spreading a large towel lengthwise on the sheet.
He stopped and said he was ready for me now and that I should remove my towel, get on the table face-down, and drape the towel over me. He turned around and I slipped off my towel and got comfortable on the table, with my face in this little cut-out and my arms hanging down the sides. I could hear him squeezing some oil onto his hands and rubbing it in, then he stood at the side of the table and started on my upper back and shoulders.
It felt marvelous! He had wonderfully large hands, and the strength in his arms and fingers soon started to melt my residual tension away. He made a comment about I must have had a rough day, and I murmured something that he must’ve taken as an affirmative because he gave a little heh-heh and said he would take all my pain away. Sounds pretty good to me, I thought hazily.
As he worked my shoulders and back with his smooth strong hands, the knots seemed to just melt away. He moved his hand to my right side at one point and said this would hurt a little, he needed to release the something-or-other, then he dug his thumb into my side. Yes, it hurt, but it seemed to ease something under my shoulder blade that I didn’t even know was tight until it relaxed. He repeated the move on the other side, and it was like my upper back had completely relaxed all of a sudden. Bloody marvelous, I thought, I’ll have to remember that trick. He seemed to be satisfied with my shoulders, and he moved around to the front of the table and started working down my back in circles. His hands were so big that they pretty much reached all the way across my back and around the sides, so the circles he was making were fairly small. He worked his was down to the top of my ass and just kneaded his thumbs just above the crack of my ass, while working his fingers across the top of my pelvis. I could feel that deep sort of pain and I realized that I didn’t even know my ass was tense. The sensation was exquisite, and, I’ll admit, a little sexual where he was working. I thought, man, this would be a fun guy to play with my body. I started breathing in bigger breaths and letting them out slowly, and at one point I let out a little sigh.
He stopped and moved his hands up to my head. I still had the towel wrapped around my hair, and he slowly unraveled it and starting running his fingers through my damp hair. What a rush! It was like little men on little horses were running up my head and right off the top, carrying a little more stress away on each little horse. He kept this up for a few minutes, until the rushes were reduced to just little chills. He got some more oil on his hands, went to the foot of the table, and started in on my left calf. Once again, he found aches and pains and knots there that I didn’t know I had. It actually got pretty intense, and I lifted my foot up a couple of times, and he applied less pressure each time, then slowly rubbed deeper and deeper until my calf was finally relaxed. He repeated the whole process on my right calf, then he started rubbing my right foot.
I love to have my feet rubbed. He worked and kneaded all over my foot, under the arch, on the heel, under and over the sole, finally finishing by gently rubbing and pulling my toes, then he did my left foot. He came around to the left side of the table, slid the towel up to a couple of inches below my ass and started on my left thigh. He used long strong strokes, running from my hip, down the outside of my thigh, then up the back and inside, right up to the towel. I could feel my hamstring being worked and stretched and finally relax. He moved over to the right side and did my right thigh. When he seemed satisfied that my hamstrings were about right, he put both his hands on the backs of my thighs and used slow, very strong strokes up my thighs, right to and a little past the bottom of the towel, then repeated the stroke again and again.
As you might imagine, all of this attention so close to my pussy and ass was starting to get me worked up again, and my breath was getting quick and shallow.
And I really wanted to feel those warm strong hands on my ass. I reached around my right hand to the towel and asked him if he wouldn’t mind massaging my butt, then I pulled the towel away and let it drop to the floor. His hands stopped for a couple of seconds, I could hear him take a deep breath, then he moved around to the head of the table and started softly rubbing my ass at the top, slowly working his way down in circles until his fingers folded around the curve at the bottom of my ass and then back up to the top. He kept that up for a while, then squeezed some more oil onto his hands and went back to the right side of the table.
He put his hands very lightly on my ass and started moving them around very slowly, up at the top, along the sides of my hips, down to the bottom and back again. He slowly applied more and more pressure, until he was pretty well grabbing my ass and kneading it like dough. He reached his hands down to the bottom of my ass and cupped the globes. He put his thumbs along my crack and gently pushed outward, over and over. It sent chills across my ass, right into my asshole, and around to my pussy.
I knew we were at a critical moment here. I wanted him to continue what he was doing, and if I didn’t indicate that in some way he might stop. I was feeling pretty nervous, but I decided to go for it. I reached my right hand around and just placed it on his hip. When he didn’t stop, I ran my hand to his ass and started caressing the hard muscle. When he still didn’t object, I thought OK, it’s time to put up or shut up. I moved my hand around to the front of his shorts and gently rubbed the backs of my fingers across his cock. I could feel it was already semi-hard, and it started getting harder as I turned my hand around and grabbed him and stroked up and down.
That’s when he stopped. I thought, oh no, not now! I pushed my upper body up off the table and turned around to look in his eyes. I could see he was undergoing some inner struggle, but he must have liked what he saw in my eyes, because he moved his hands to his waist and in one motion lifted his shirt up and over his head. He was built beautifully, very muscular, but not muscle-bound.
He slipped off his shoes and reached out a hand to me. I took his hand, turned over, and sat on the edge of the table. When he moved my hands down to his waist, I got the picture. I got down on my knees on the floor and slowly pulled the bottoms of his shorts downwards. At this point, his shorts had a significant pole holding them out. When the base of his cock came into view, I couldn’t believe how thick it was. It had to be all of 3 inches across. I started drooling.
I continued pulling on his shorts, and when they got past and released the head, his cock sprang up. It was very hard and pointed up at about a 30 degree angle. He wasn’t all that long, only about 6 or 7 inches, but the thickness was something else. My pussy was very wet and I could feel myself expanding in anticipation.
I leaned down and started licking his balls. They were high and tight in his scrotum. He let out a little sigh as I took one, then both balls into my mouth and rolled them around with my tongue, as I ran my fingers lightly across his ass. I moved up and stuck my tongue into the tip of the opening of his cock. His precome tasted delicious. I rolled my tongue around the glans, once again marveling at the miracle of soft and rough in the same skin.
I wrapped my lips around the head. Let me tell you, that wasn’t all that easy. I stroked my tongue up and down the underside of the head and a little down the shaft. His marvelous hands caressed my face. He let out a moan, and I took that as encouragement. I slowly worked more of his cock into my mouth, but there was only so much I could do. I can deep throat with the best of them, but this monster really stretched my jaw muscles. I couldn’t believe how hard it was! He grabbed my head and pulled my mouth off his cock. He stood me up, turned me around, lay me across the table, and I thought, all right! He’s gonna fuck me from behind.
But, no. He knelt down, spread my legs, put his arms under my thighs, grabbed my hips, and effortlessly lifted me off the table, so that my head hung down by his cock. I quickly snagged his cock with my mouth and started working on it again. He lifted my ass right up to his mouth and started licking all around my crack, then stuck his tongue in my asshole. It sent a jolt right through me! He tongue-fucked my ass for a while, then he lifted me a little higher and ran his tongue from my ass, along my slit, and right to my clitoris. He ran his rough tongue along my clit until I was moaning continuously. He closed his lips over my clit, and that sent me over the edge. I came very hard, my pussy spasming. I’m afraid I clamped down on his cock, because he let out a little moan. He set me back down across the table, then he turned me over and picked me up by the hips. Again, I was amazed at how easily he lifted me, and I ran my hands across his bulging arms and beautiful shoulders. He carried me into the bathroom and put me up against the wall. I wanted that thick cock in me so bad. He moved my hips so that my pussy lips brushed the head of his cock. He moved me back and forth across his cock head, until I couldn’t stand it any more and cried out for him to fuck me now! Please!
A knife through butter. It was like a hot knife through butter. I don’t know how else to describe it. There was no way that I could have taken that thick cock in one stroke, but that’s what happened. He dropped me onto his cock, and he was instantly buried to the hilt. I had never felt anything, and I mean anything, so good as at that moment. I was stretched as I had never been before. He stayed buried in me, and I just marveled at the breadth for a while.
His hips started moving slowly, and I couldn’t help it. I just started coming uncontrollably. He kept me stationary, just moving his cock in and out of me. I couldn’t believe I was coming so much; it was just continuous. His rhythm got faster and more powerful, until he was slamming into my pussy like a jackhammer. All I could do was hold on for dear life. His movements got erratic, so I knew he was about to blow. I screamed come in me baby! Come in me! He let out a long groan and buried his cock into my womb as he released jet after hot jet of come deep into me. The twitches of his cock sent shivers from deep in my pussy, up through my belly, and all the way to my nipples. I knew at that moment that I was truly, unashamedly, and completely a woman.
He finally stopped coming and just kept his cock buried in me. He was still hard! After a minute or so, he lifted me up off his cock, making my pussy thrill all along that thick stick, and carried me out to the living room and to the leather chair. He set me down on the floor, turned me around, and bent me over the back of the chair. All right! I thought. He caressed my ass with his big hands, spread my ass cheeks, and, without any warning, shoved his cock all the way up into my pussy. Yum! I said. He stayed still for a while, then slowly pulled his cock out until just the head was in me. I whimpered as he teased me, just leaving the head in my pussy, then he slowly inched back in. Then out slowly, then in, then out, then in. My pussy tingled with each slow pussy-stretching stroke. He kept up this exquisite torture for a couple of minutes. As far as I was concerned, he could keep that up the rest of the day.
He started breathing heavy and speeded up. Pretty soon he was slamming into my pussy. I felt that old familiar wave coming on. My orgasm started in my lower calves, traveled up my legs, along the backs of my thighs, and finally to my pussy. I could feel myself clenching and clenching. That sent Richard over the edge. He groaned loudly and slammed his cock deep into me. His whole body stiffened and he released his hot come into my womb while my pussy spasmed on his thick cock.
After a while I could feel his muscles finally relax and his cock softened. He pulled out and just left me bent over the chair. I was like a wet rag. I had absolutely no energy left. Richard’s come started to leak out of my pussy and down my thighs, but I was too wasted to move. Richard went into the bathroom, ran some hot water, and brought out a steaming hot washrag, which he used to clean up the come on my thighs, then held the rag against my pussy. The sensation was of a pleasant burning all along my slit. I finally found enough energy to reach down and mop up some of the come inside my pussy, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to get it all.
He got a couple of large towels from the bathroom and wrapped me up in them like a cocoon, then he lifted me up, brought me into the bedroom and lay me on the bed face up. I felt absolutely marvelous and logy. Richard’s massage techniques may have been a little unorthodox, but I had to admit, whatever aches and pains I had were certainly gone.
He carried his stuff out into the hall, then walked back into the bedroom and leaned down and gave me a sweet kiss on the cheek. I felt myself drifting off and the last thing he whispered to me, in that beautiful mellifluous voice, before leaving the room was… Mr. Mark sends his compliments.
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