2 comments/ 26227 views/ 12 favorites Head Queen of Saratoga By: johnnieblue44 This is a true story that transpired last Friday night in Saratoga Springs, NY, the 'Summer Place to Be Fucked'.....enjoy! * I watched her from a safe enough distance through the crowd of shimmering, dancing bodies to the rocking sounds of the Audiostars, the best damn club band in the land. Truth be told, it wasn't that much of a chore to keep my eyes set on that tanned, lithe body. If it was possible to look slutty while also attired as obviously rich-girl preppy, this woman was pulling it off. She had on a set of choker pearls around her lean neck, augmenting the long, angular features of her pretty face. Her white tank top stopped seductively a few inches above her tight khaki shorts, showing off her taut tummy and belly button, as her nipples poked tantalizingly through the thin, cotton material. Her legs seemed to go on forever, and they were exacerbated by a pair of heeled, wrap-around sandals reminiscent of a Julius Caesar-era 'grape girl' (you know, "dahling, more grapes for the emperor!"). Yet, as my sometimes admittedly too fertile mind whirled with all of these fantasy scenarios while admiring the beauty from perhaps twenty feet away, it was more than that. I was certain that I knew this woman from somewhere. It was more than wishful thinking. But...where, dammit, where..? The click that emanated from the cartoon light bulb above my head registered it all at once. Aaah, this was Lynne's ice queen sister!!!!! What was her name again..? Donna..? Debbie..? Denise! That's it, Denise! I hadn't seen her in about five years, and boy, had time been her friend. To backtrack a tad for explanations' sake, Lynne was a woman I used to date half a decade ago. Well, that's perhaps a bit liberal. There are women you 'date', and women you 'see'. Lynne was a woman I 'saw', and usually my view was with her on her back, screaming in pleasure (no woman could scream like Lynne; Janis Joplin would have been envious!) Lynne was a local golf pro, one of the best women golfers in the region. I had known her through the circuit for many years, and had developed sort of a friendship with her. Lynne was cute in an athletic way, freckles covering her friendly, constantly smiling face. She was one of those rare chicks that everybody loved, men and woman alike. One night about maybe six years ago, after an outing at a local club that resulted in waaaay too many cranberry juices and raspberry vodkas, Lynne and I ended up conducting our own personal 'hole-in-one' contest right on the seventeenth tee about 1 A.M. I found out that same night that Lynne was engaged to be married within a year, but that did not stop us from continuing our clandestine rendezvous occasionally. (The best thing about the golf pro is she holds the keys to the womens' locker room, but I digress.) After perhaps a dozen or so bouts of some passionate fucking sessions over the next few months, Lynne actually had the chutzpah (or was it simply good manners?) to invite me to her wedding. I went solo, in a strange sort of deference and respect for the ceremony. After all, it was a bit of a dichotomy to watch one of the hottest fucks you ever had in your life get hitched just a week or so after hearing her scream in ecstasy from your cock buried in her ass. It was at this wedding when I first saw Denise, Lynne's older sister. She was built very differently from Lynne. Lynne was athletic and almost muscular in her thighs; Denise had on 'the black wedding dress' that accentuated her long, slender torso and thin, shapely calves. Her face was almost identical to Lynne's from a features standpoint. They both had the slightly freckled face and large hazel eyes, with short, light brown hair. It was apparent that they had to be sisters. But while Lynne's face was always glowing from a perpetually sunny smile, Denise was aloof, sullen, some might say (and I would be one of them) 'snooty'. She looked like a rich bitch, to be perfectly candid. In the moment or two that I had to converse with Lynne at her ceremony, the happy bride, I couldn't help but to inquire about her older sister. "She looks exactly like you, but..well..I hope I'm not out of line...she looks like an Ice Queen," I said to Lynne. Lynne giggled delightedly. "Everybody says that about Denise, don't worry. She's just in the middle of a difficult divorce right now, and it's taking a toll on her." Lynne moved up closer to me and whispered in my ear. "In fact, I'll tell ya a little secret, since you and I have a few of our own that no one will know about, Johnnie." She smiled mischievously. "Denise likes to refer to herself as the 'Head Queen'. She's delusionally convinced herself she gives the best blow jobs on the planet. My younger sister and I tease her about that all the time. Go figure. Denise a head queen." I revived myself from that little flashback and took inventory that I was now at the Horseshoe Inn, August 2009. I had not seen either Lynne or Denise since that day at the wedding. Funny what the male mind can recapture from the mental archives. Denise was idly tapping on her Blackberry as she stood at an outdoor table in the back of the bar. She was accompanied by a female friend, a somewhat stocky (nice word for 'chubby') blonde in a pink dress. There were two older guys attempting to hit on them. The blonde was relishing in the attention, but Denise was ever the aloof (i.e. snooty) Ice Queen, paying the three of then not even the pretense of attention. If I was going to plunge in the pool ever, now seemed like as good a time as any. Why just dip your toes in? I sidled up to Denise from behind. "Excuse me, but I think I know you," I chirped, realizing instantly how cheesy that must have sounded. Denise turned to half-face me, and her thin lips curled up in a kind of sneer, her hazel eyes not betraying a hint of recognition nor interest. She looked me up and down once in a superior, dismissive manner. "I really don't think so," Denise icily blurted, as she turned her interest back to the small screen of her electronic device. "What the hell," I thought, "I'm all in at this point. Why not go down hard?" So, undaunted, my next utterance contained a fact designed to at least authenticate my opening line. I took a deep breath. "Yep, I think I do. You're Denise Hoffman, aren't you? I'm John. I used to date your sister Lynne." Her incessant tapping on the keyboard stopped immediately and she turned to face me. She was at least two inches taller than me in her high-heeled sandals, and I'm sure she was used to intimidating annoying little sand gnats like myself on an hourly basis, and no doubt took supreme enjoyment in the humiliation. This time, however, I had succeeded in touching a nerve, a curiosity, a familiar, long-forgotten sisterly bond. She looked down at me, her eyes peering directly, darkly into my own. She eyed me for about five seconds, which seemed like an eternity to me, and in that time, her demeanor changed. This time, it was me who was rendered speechless by her reply. "You mean, you used to fuck my sister while she was engaged to Tony, don't you?" Have you ever watched a line of men at an occupied urinal? They all engage in this nervous, little tap dance, bouncing on the balls of their feet, one to the other, over and over, as they valiantly try not to pee their pants. Unwittingly, this was the physical reaction that her comment evoked in me. My mouth opened and shut a few times, my eyes twittered and blinked, like a hooked fish flopping on the line, throwing himself at the mercy of his captor. The only visceral reply I could manage was a weak nod. Denise smiled in her best Cruella De Ville imitation this side of Disney. "Is that a yes, Johnnie boy?" I managed to compose myself and realized that this perhaps was not the worst way in the world to be remembered. A man can only begin to imagine what sisterly secrets are shared, and I calculated that the mere fact that Denise chose to recall my legacy in this way indicated that Lynne might have had some complimentary stories to share with her older sibling about my carnal abilities. Well, at least, this is what I was thinking. So, I really decided to roll the dice on my next statement. "That's a yes, Denise. I surmise that Lynne may have shared some pleasant secrets with you about us. Well, she shared one with me about you." Denise's left eyebrow rose in a 'do tell' dare. "Head Queen." It took a few seconds for the dam to break, but when it did, the kilowatts flowed. Denise's head rocked back in uproarious laughter. I made note that this was truly the first time I had seen her smile. Of course, while noting that, I couldn't help but peek down at the rippling six-pack of muscles in her tight stomach as her blouse rose higher from her navel. (It's called multi-tasking!) "OH, MY FUCKING GOD, I am going to KILL that little bitch!" Denise uttered this while still shaking with laughter, so I assumed the threat was idle sibling rhetoric. "She actually fucking told you that, when? Where?" Turns out that my boldness could not have served as a more effective ice-breaker. Denise and I spent the next twenty minutes or so amicably talking about friends, family, kids, and briefly, Lynne, who was now living in Florida while managing a golf teaching academy. I was not oblivious to the envious glances from many of the other male patrons in the Horseshoe, who undoubtedly had been watching this 'sexy-in-a-semi-preppy-semi-slutty-way' Ice Queen themselves earlier in the evening and wondering why I was now her lucky conversational partner. (It's simple, boys, you just have to let them know that you fucked their little sister!) I also became aware that the other three people who had been at the table had slinked away. I discovered that her blonde friend was a co-worker whose presence was primarily to serve as a wingman, so to speak, to insulate Denise's many would-be suitors. I was also not blind to the fact that Denise's entire body language had changed perceptibly. She was facing directly towards me now, she flicked her auburn hair back off of her shoulders with a pronounced head tilt, and she licked her pale pink lips more than once. I fuck up with the best of males when it comes to interpreting female body language, but I was hoping against hope that these were signs that bode well in my favor. Beneath the table, my own arousal was painfully straining against my baggy Bermuda shorts, as I wafted in this Ice Queen's light, summery perfume. We stopped our banter and moved even closer as the mosh pit around us gyrated to the tunes of the Audiostars' rendition of 'Should I Stay or Should I Go?'. Denise's once imposing eyes had now lost their edge, and they now sparkled. I moved in to kiss her, and she met my lips with an urgency that I was not expecting. She hungrily took my tongue within her lips and sucked greedily, while moving her torso tightly against mine. Our kiss lingered for fifteen or twenty seconds, completely and blissfully oblivious to our surroundings. I broke the kiss off reluctantly, and looked at Denise as she rubbed her pelvis against my hip beneath the table. She was taller than me, so my unavoidable erection twitched against the soft outline of her shorts covering her thigh. "Would you like to dance?" I asked, still holding her by the small of her back and pulling her close to me. Denise gazed at me with smoldering eyes. She waited teasingly before answering, and as she did so, her long fingers danced southward towards, and then covering, my bulge. "Wrong verb, Johnnie boy." My only response was an audible gulp, as I struggled to absorb the gravity of what I thought this implied, while having my instincts reinforced as Denise's soft hand cupped my throbbing cock through my shorts. "Lynne told me that you were, by far, the best fuck she ever had. I heard that in graphic detail. I admit to having always been a little jealous of my little sister when I heard her tell me some stories of you two." She grabbed my cock more assertively, and I felt as though I might burst through my zipper right there. "How would you like to fuck another Hoffman sister tonight, Johnnie boy? Up for it?" In the succinct negotiating session that followed, it was now only a matter of logistics. The principals had already hammered out the foundation of the agreement, the whats and hows. Now it was simply a matter of where. Denise's house north of Albany was ruled out because her teenaged daughter would be home hosting some friends. My own resort rental in Bolton Landing was similarly dismissed by Denise because she did not want to make the hour-long drive home after the evening's events had been consummated. Obtaining a respectable hotel in Saratoga on this short notice would be virtually impossible without surrendering a King's ransom. And so, in the most practical example of 'when there's a will, there's a way' that I can ever recall, it was quickly mutually decided that the most time-tested location of all spontaneous carnal festivities would have to suffice. The back seat of her car. For those few of you readers who may just happen to be familiar with the parking lot next to the Horseshoe in Saratoga Springs, it might just be the most convenient, safe, and comfortable location for after-the-bar activity on the planet. Denise's Lexus was parked beneath a centuries-old oak tree, and provided natural cover from light, intruders, passersby, etc. I complimented her as we climbed into the back seat by wondering audibly if she had chosen such a parking spot in the event she decided to bring a fortunate companion to this secluded location. Her wicked smile seemed to me a silent affirmation that this thought had indeed crossed her own mind. There was no foreplay whatsoever that was needed nor encouraged. Denise practically pinned me against the back cushion of the car, and within seconds peeled her cotton blouse over her head, revealing, small yet perfectly formed tits with steel-hard, eraser size nipples, and large dark brown areolas. My fleeting thought was that although Lynne's tits were much bigger, the sisters shared a similarity in areolas. I hungrily devoured her tight, taut breasts with my lips and hands, gripping them roughly as she rocked on my cock in a dry hump, and moaned loudly. I pulled my head from her chest to admire the view in front of me, while Denise raised her tight, tiny ass and shimmied her shorts down her long legs. In the course of our earlier conversation, Denise had revealed to me that she had recently celebrated her 50th birthday by running a marathon, which she explained helped keep her body in tip-top shape. She had said rather absently that she was in the best shape of her life. As she pulled her thong off of her hips, I couldn't help but to take a few seconds and absorb this amazing beauty. Now fully naked, she was completely sensational, not an ounce of fat on her, five-feet-ten and one hundred and seventeen pounds of fifty-year-old sexual dynamite, now simmering and waiting for my detonator to penetrate her beautifully shaved cunt. Her next words brought me back to attend to the task at hand. "Take your fucking shorts off and fuck me," she growled lustily, a taunting tone in her voice that I had not yet heard, but which served to get me even harder, if possible. Denise assisted my efforts by almost angrily yanking my shorts down to my ankles. She looked down at my cock and grasped it tightly in her long, manicured fingers, and gasped. "Mmmm, Jackpot! What a great cock!" I was now the passenger along to accompany Denise's short journey to orgasm. I've always held the mindset that when a woman wants to fuck, it doesn't always matter who the fortunate recipient will be, and I think this was the case on this night. Denise needed a cock, and I was here to satsify her cravings. With one motion, Denise thrust her pussy down onto my entire shaft, evoking an audible grunt from me as well as a release of Denise's hot juices bursting onto my lap. She was instantly soaked, and fucked me savagely, bouncing up and down on my cock without regard for anything but feeling her pussy filled as deep and and as hard and as rough as it could with a hard cock. How did I know this..? "Oh, Jesus, fuck me, that's it, fuck me with that big, hard cock..give it to me, fuck me , fuck me hard, fuck me rough, deep, deeper, grab my ass, that's it, oooooh, keep fucking me, let me use that big dock for my pleasure, yeah, fuck me, fuck me, give me that cock, what a big hard cock, I need it so fucking bad, fuck my cunt, hard, harder, HARDER, fuck me, yeeeaaahhhh...Oh, God, fuck me..........OOOOOHHHH..." And then...........silence......for a few seconds.......as her head shot back and I watched as her pupils literally roll back into her eyelids and then disappeared, giving her face an almost other-worldly, apparition-type look as he reached her ultimate release. And then, I felt the tight muscles of her cunt spasm and convulse over my cock, dripping and squirting a pepperminty scent. She leaked cum all over my cock and balls and legs, running like a stream down onto the crack of my ass and onto the seat, resulting in a small pond of her pleasure covering the beige upholstery of her luxury vehicle, now serving as our mobile fuck unit, as we splashed up and down in her cum. Denise's stomach heaved, and her firm breasts shook, and I grabbed her ass as tightly as I could, bouncing her even harder on me, impaling her with my almost eight inches, banging against her cervix, my balls slapping wildly against her ass cheeks, my index finger now inserted into and puncturing her imposibly tight sphincter. She quickly released again, her breathing now reduced to a convulsing series of grunts and groans. "Aaahh, Oh my God, oh my god, oooh, god, that's unbelievable, Oh my god, oooh, jeezus, yes, yes, yes, God. Oh my god, Holy fuck...you're unbelievable, don't stop, keep fucking me, keep fucking me, YEEEEESSSSSSSSS!", and she grunted announcement to yet another massive orgasm, at least her third within the last several minutes.... (During Denise's verbal display of excitement, my mind drifted toward the aforementioned screaming that Lynne uttered during our sessions, and I couldn't help but think that the Hoffman sisters must have been quite the wailers in their cribs, staging a competitive decibel attack that has continued into the next millennium. But, again, I digress...) Denise jumped off me suddenly, her cunt lips separating from my turgid pole with a sharp 'pop', her liquid oozing from her hole and splashing onto my thighs. In one motion, and without saying a word, she climbed down on her knees in front of me and took my twitching member deep into her mouth, covering it tightly and annunciating her oral assault with another loud groan. This time, however, I met her moan with one of my own (hey, that rhymes.. wasn't that an oldies song lyric?!) I was now at the complete and total mercy of the mouth and lips of the infamous Head Queen, and I was willing to accept whatever 'punishment' she thought I deserved. Her eyes flickered up towards my face and she gazed at me lustfully, my long cock buried deep within her thin lips, which I now realized were designed perfectly for that 'tight' blow job suction. Her long fingers cupped and caressed my balls, and she deep-throated me with skilled ease, which many women could not seem to do with my length. I should have realized Denise's competitve nature, though, combined with her self-confidence of her oral abilities, would have deemed anything but a complete deep-throating experience a failure in her own mind. So, gracious man that I am, I let her have her way (I'm such a gentleman that way). Denise's pearl necklace bounced up and down, tapping her chin, setting up almost a window frame of sorts for my close-up view of her cocksucking. I reached down to grasp the back of her head and pull it even tighter down onto my lap, but as I did so, she reared her head back violently, like a frisky filly bucking against a jockey's attempted mount in the paddock. Head Queen of Saratoga "Hey, hey, no, mister, don't touch. Never touch my head! I'm in fucking control here. You're just beginning to enjoy this, you have no idea, so don't be stupid!" That dark, 'Cruella' look had returned to her eyes, and I instantly realized that this exercise was for Denise's pleasure primarily, and not my own. I laid my head back against the headrest and closed my eyes, enjoying the sensationally rhythmic sucking and caressing of Denise's mouth and hands, and felt the familiar tingle from deep within my swollen testicles, indicating an imminent eruption of Mt. Saratoga. Denise instinctively felt my reaction and accelerated her sucking on my cock, moving her head up and down frantically now, wildly, like a Bobblehead in a hurricane. My hips and ass raised off of the seat, and she released her mouth from my cock, moved her face back a few inches. She pointed my cock at her cheek as the first spurt of my thick cum shot directly into her face, flopping up into her eyelids, and then the second, and third, and fourth stream of cream, coating her lovely face, hair, chin, and dripping down onto her collarbone, just above her perky tits. I groaned my delight, and reached down to pull gently on her nipples, a love-tap of supreme appreciation. Again, however, she chastised me by slapping my hands away from her chest. "What did I tell you?I'm not through with your cock yet, I'll let you know when I am. Now lay back and keep your hands off." Denise smiled in a rather sinister way, and went back to licking the copious amounts of cum that covered my cock. She gathered as much as she could within her lips, and then opened up her mouth fully to me, illustrating my thick white liquid coating her mouth. She leaned down and dripped the cum back onto my cock in a thin stream of spit, and long strands hung from her lips and ended on a my cock, in an erotic game of connect-the-dots, this time played with my cum. My cock still tingled and twitched from her expert manifestations. I had not lost even a hint of hardness, my cock remained like steel. As men will attest, there is that after-glow sensitivity after they have ejaculted, when they simply can't stand any more pleasure, at least without a brief respite period. Denise, very obviously, intuitively knew this, and gave my throbbing member a few moments of direct inactivity, and instead teased and tantalized me with this visual display of wanton sluttiness, spitting cum onto my cock, tickling underneath my balls, right at the point where my anus meets my pubic bone, which serves as an instant erection motivator, no matter the circumstances. She kept up this daily double of soft caresses while continuing to drip her spit onto my still painfully erect cock, until after a few more minutes of this, my cock lost its sensitivity, and was ready for action once more. Without even a hint of indecision, Denise again attacked my member with impeccable timing, lowering her head down onto my pole at the exact nanosecond the sensitivity had dissipated. This time, there was not even a pretense of teasing. She consumed my cock fully, groping my balls simultaneously with one hand and firmly stroking my shaft with the other, over and over and over, her hair bobbing down onto my lap, her slurping and muffled groaning augmenting her actions. Then, just as suddenly, Denise stopped her aggressive mouth activity just as she engulfed my shaft to the fullest, her nose buried in my curly pubic hair. She looked up at me, with almost eight hard inches of cock deep in her mouth, and she sucked, tightly, and kept her face right there, never moving, except her throat contracted over my cock, bringing a heretofore untold level of pleasure that coarsed throughout my entire being. I have been the recipient of many a tremendous sucking, but the spontaneous and completely unexpected circumstances on this occasion were compounding my extreme pleasure. Denise further tightened her oral grip on my dick, and let two long fingers tickle the entrance to my anus, just teasing the base of my pubic bone without penetrating my ass. Well, this did it for me. With a completely unexpected burst, I shot yet several more loads of thick cum into her throat, as she gurgled her delight, this time tasting and swallowing it all. I had cum twice within perhaps three or four minutes, an experience that I had never previously enjoyed. I was completely exhausted, sated, and amazed at what pleasure this Ice Queen, er, excuse me, Head Queen, had just performed on me. Denise finally scurried back onto the seat next to me, and grabbed my own head, and kissed me deeply, shooting the remains of my cum into my own mouth, insisting that I taste my own somewhat salty nectar. "That was my present to you for being the hot fuck that my sister told me you were. And she didn't lie." Denise started to gather her rumpled clothes, and only then did I realize that she still had on those 'grape-girl' sandals. She pulled her shorts on over her heels, tossing her thong cavalierly over her shoulder and onto her front seat. "Won't be needing that sopping thing for the ride home," she grinned. As she pulled her tank top back on over her chest, I sat there, vainly attempting to regain my senses, and she patted me on the head like a tired puppy. "So," she mused. "Was I wrong in my self-description?" I smiled back at her. "Normally, Denise, it's sort of a violation for someone to give a nickname to themselves. However in your particular case, the verdict is in." "Apt nickname". Denise smiled delightedly. She was so beautiful when she broke into that happy face and escaped from the Ice Queen facade. I hoped to see it more often. "Thank you, kind sir," she curtsied mockingly. "You weren't so bad yourself. Your cock, if I do say so, is tremendous. I need a man with stamina to keep up with me." I pondered this statemtn as I clumsily put back my own clothes. "Um, does this mean, in the immortal words of Rocky Balboa, that we'll have a rematch? Um, ya know, sometime?" Denise opened the door for me in an unspoken gesture that said, "Get the hell out, I'm done with you tonight." I clamored out of the back seat, still pulling up my zipper, as she climbed gracefully into her driver's seat. "Tell you what," Denise exclaimed, pulling down her window. "What are you doing next Friday night?" I didn't hesitate. "As long as hell isn't scheduled to freeze over, and if this is an invitation for Round Two, I think I can make myself available. Even without checking with my people". Denise flicked her hair back from her eyes and forehead with a toss of her long neck. "Good answer. Because I think I'll have a treat for you. You see, our youngest sister Marie's husband has been cheating on her, and I've been telling her that she needs to get some fun of her own. A revenge fuck, so to speak. And I think I know just the guy to help her out. If you're interested, that is." I gulped audibly and once again was rendered to a quivering mass of protoplasm, shaking in anticipation like a beached jellyfish, but nodding in an involuntary Pavlovian-dog response. She rolled up her window before screeching off, not even asking me if I wanted a lift to my car on Bowman Street. "Eight o' clock, then, same time, same place." "You'll get to fuck another Hofmann sister, Johnnie. And me, too, of course. Lucky bastard." It's four days until Friday as I write this. I'm getting my rest. To be continued...I hope...