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Omaha

By: 99_percent_oral



It was 3:40 pm when Mrs. Julie Darlene Mason got out of the taxi at the Omaha, Nebraska Marriott hotel. It was a raw day in late March. A steady rain was falling as the bellman lifted her small suitcase and escorted her to the check-in desk. There, she identified herself and was given a key to her husband Gary's room.

Once in the room, Julie had the bellman put the case on the bed and gave him a generous tip. She slid into the plush chair and rubbed her face. It had been a more grueling trip from New Jersey than she'd expected. The 8 am flight had a connection in Chicago that had been delayed for several hours. 

Julie was a high school biology teacher and had taken a personal day to enjoy this long weekend, mini-vacation with her husband. Gary had been working hard, and found out on Tuesday he would need to stay over the weekend for a Saturday meeting. He had called Julie and asked her to join him. 

At first she hesitated, knowing she had her own job to attend to. An evening flight would have gotten her in late, and it just didn't seem worth it for a trip to Nebraska. Gary persisted, however, and told her she should take the day off. She said she'd think about it. 

Gary called again on Wednesday and said he thought he could get off a little early on Friday, considering the Saturday meeting, and they could go out for a nice evening. Julie relented and she said she'd be in early Friday afternoon. She half expected Gary to be in the room when she arrived.

After stretching the stiffness of the trip away, Julie picked up the room phone and called Gary's cell phone. He answered and said he was running a little behind, but should be back by 5:30. He suggested she take a slow bath and meet him in the downstairs lounge then. She should be ready to go out.

Taking his advice, Julie indulged in a prolonged shower with plenty of hot water. As she toweled off, she brushed the steam off the bathroom mirror and looked at her reflection. At 46, she knew she still looked good enough to turn most heads. She was 5'6" and weighed 125 pounds. She kept trim by working out every day after school. 

Julie's eyes were a very pale blue. Her hair had always been deep red, and for years she tried to tone it back. But with all the fashion models going red these days, she brought it out as brassy as she could, keeping it perfectly straight and shoulder length. Speaking of perfectly straight, she also had a great smile, white, white, perfect teeth and full lips she liked to highlight with lipstick that matched her hair.

Yes, Julie knew most of the boys in her biology class fantasized about her. So did most of the male faculty. She'd actually had affairs with two of her fellow teachers before she learned her lesson about not screwing where you work. Gary found out about the second one, the football coach, and she barely kept her marriage together. Given his poor reaction to what he did learn, she didn't have the courage to also mention her first affair. 

Julie also never mentioned her student teacher of two years ago. Paul had spent the semester practicing what he'd learned in college on her classes. It was great experience for him and a nice break for her. 

Fortunately, or unfortunately, Paul was simply drop-dead gorgeous: tall, slender, blue eyes, blond hair. Some of the female faculty would say some pretty crude things about what they'd like to do with him.

Julie and Paul had gotten along great and she often teased him about how the girls in class undoubtedly fantasized about him. He, on the other hand would ask her advice about how to handle things. He told her about some of the student parties he was invited to, and even showed her a couple of notes the girls had written him.

Julie was shocked, literally. A couple of juniors, very popular, cheerleaders had written what they'd do in explicit, clinical detail. Both, it seemed were very eager to give him a blowjob and perhaps continue on from there. Julie, of course, counseled him to resist these underage, "sirens", as she called them.

Once, about 3 weeks before the end of the semester, when she and Paul were in the teacher's lounge alone, and Paul was relating the latest suggestions of the coeds in class, Julie laughed, but pressed him further.

"How do those notes make you feel?"

"To be honest, some of them get me pretty hot."

"Calm down, big fella," Julie teased. She knew he was living in an apartment away from college during this semester and he had no access to the coeds on campus.

"Seriously, though, Paul, what do you do? I mean I know you're not old enough to go to any of the bars, yet." Julie knew because Paul told her he would 21 the Monday before his student teaching would end. He had asked her if she'd go with him to get his first drink when he was legal. To be a good sport, Julie had agreed.

"Well, I've got ole reliable here," Paul said with a laugh as he held up his hand. Julie groaned, but smiled.

"I really shouldn't be telling you this..." Paul's voice drifted off.

"What!" Julie was excited. What would this young hunk reveal? Illicit "contact" with one of the girls from class? She had often speculated that it might happen. Be difficult for him to avoid, really.

"Well, um, you know Mrs. Cohen?" 

Of course Julie knew Shelly Cohen, taught Spanish and French, pushing 40, about 35 pounds overweight -- made for great tits, though -- bit of a horse face. A few years ago, she and Gary had met socially with Shelly and her husband, Stan for a short time. Mostly what killed it was Stan. He was boring, even for an accountant. Neither Julie nor Gary could stand him.

"Sure, I know Shelly." My god, thought Julie, not Shelly!

"Well, she's been sucking me off a couple of times a week."

"WHAT!!?? Jesus, you're telling me this now, when we have a class? To be continued, that's for sure!"

Except it wasn't continued. They never spoke of it again, not until that last night. Not that Julie didn't want to, but Paul never brought it up again, and Julie didn't feel comfortable pushing him on it. He probably felt embarrassed for bringing it up in the first place. It really gnawed at Julie though.

When observing from the back of the room, Julie's mind would sometimes wander. Shelly's getting some of that, Julie thought, torturing herself with the imaginings. Paul could get practically anyone he wanted. Why was he settling for Shelly? Julie knew the answer. Shelly had given it to her.

During the brief time when she and Gary were paling around with Shelly and Stan, the women formed a close friendship at school. They talked about lots of things, but one of the things that shocked Julie about Shelly was how openly her friend discussed sex. 

Julie just never felt very comfortable talking about that aspect of her life. Not Shelly, though and she had plenty to say that shocked Julie (and eventually Gary as Julie related her conversations with Shelly at home).

Shelly had led, and was still leading a very active sex life, at least by Julie's standards. What amazed Julie most was how Shelly still carried on despite the fact that she was married.

"Well, Jules, I still get urges that can't be satisfied at home," Shelly said with a wink. Shelly was the only person ever to call her "Jules", but Julie never corrected her.

"Um, hello, what about Stan?"

"Um, hello, Jules, you've seen Stan, there are better specimens, you know." Stan was short, about 5'5", wiry frame, but balding. The only time Julie had seen him without his shirt, his hairy back disgusted her.

"So you just cheat?"

"Not cheat exactly. Stan knows I go out. He's not blind; he sees how I dress. He knows what's going on, we just don't discuss it. Before we got married, he caught me stepping out on him, once. We had a long discussion where I told him it was just physical. I loved Stan, but also enjoyed other, better looking guys.

"You know Jules, I've never been the best wrapped present at the birthday party, myself." You don't say, thought Julie, maliciously. "But I found out in high school you could attract better quality if the guy knew he could expect something for his troubles. I was always quite popular.

"The secret is letting the guy know you're willing. Very few guys will turn you down," Shelly concluded with a huge smile.

Early on, Julie had actually accompanied Shelly on a Thursday night out. Privately, she thought Shelly was, at best, exaggerating. Basically, she just wanted to see what really happened. 

It started one day at school when Shelly told Julie she was going to check out a new place Thursday night and asked if Julie would like to go along. Julie hesitated, but knew Gary would be out of town that night and, unfortunately, so did Shelly.

"Come on," Shelly nagged, "it'll be fun, and you know Gary is out of town." 

Unable to think of any really good excuse not to, Julie agreed to go.

Julie insisted on driving so she could control things. She didn't want to be at the mercy of Shelly should she want to leave. After all, she wasn't even sure what, exactly, Shelly was into. Could be some relatively harmless visits to male strip shows. Julie half hoped that's where Shelly would take her. She'd never had the nerve to go to one alone, but was curious.

It was just after 9:00 pm when Julie arrived to pick up Shelly. She went to the door where Stan greeted her. When Shelly emerged from the bedroom, Julie was totally surprised. Shelly was actually dressed quite well in dark slacks, white blouse, and a 3" heel. 

The only questionable aspects of Shelly's attire were her blouse, and her lipstick. Shelly had remarkably large breasts, and the blouse and underlying bra played their size to Shelly's complete advantage. It was low cut, but stopped just short of being sluttishly so. Still, Shelly offered plenty of cleavage. The bra seemed to arrange things into perfect spheres. No doubt Shelly also wore an extreme corset of some kind as her figure formed a nice hourglass, albeit somewhat top heavy.

The lipstick was bright red and so shiny it looked wet. Shelly had a full mouth with puffy lips. It must have taken quite a bit of lipstick to get the effect. It did make her come off as something of a tart.

Leaving the house, Stan wished them a good time, and playfully cautioned them not to stay out too late. When he leaned in to kiss Shelley, she offered her cheek. While the coldness surprised her, Julie wouldn't realize the full extent of that surprise until the evening was at an end.

As they headed for the car, Julie thought that Shelly had actually cleaned up pretty well for their night out, but there was no doubt in her mind as to who was better looking and more desirable. Julie was sure her slimmer figure combined with her near perfect face would draw much more attention than Shelly would attract. Secretly, Julie was very please with that.

With Shelly navigating, the women found their destination with no trouble. It was a new bar to Julie's disappointment -- she really had hoped to see strippers. Inside, Shelly directed Julie to two empty seats at the bar. 

The place wasn't crowded, yet. Shelly said she preferred the bar because they were more approachable there than at a table. Sipping their drinks, the women faced each other and made small conversation. Rather than looking at each other, however, each was surveying the premises. 

People were entering at an increasing pace until, at shortly past 10, the place was rather full and things were picking up. The women were on their third round of drinks at this point, although they had paid for only the initial one.

Several men had stopped by to chat. Most appeared to be in their late twenties or early thirties, professionals who were still establishing careers, not settled down yet. Some were from out of town, in town on business, staying the weekend, just out for some fun. All of them spent the bulk of their efforts at seducing Julie. Yes, they looked at Shelly, but only to gawk at those huge tits. Julie supposed that, for a young single man, the temptation would be impossible to deny.

Secretly, however, Julie was absolutely delighted that these men, all very attractive were coming on to her. It excited her in a way she hadn't imagined it would. She knew she was almost old enough to be the mother of some of them, and it was something of an ego trip that they still found her attractive. 

And the men were virtually ignoring Shelly. She thought Shelly must be furious that she'd brought Julie along seeing how Shelly could get no attention in the presence of her more beautiful companion -- despite flaunting those knockers.

Then it all fell apart for Julie.

It was about 10:30 and began innocently enough. Two guys, good looking, mid to late twenties, came over and began chatting with Julie. Shelly reached over and gently pulled on the taller one's arm until he turned to face her. She flashed a bright smile. For a brief moment her full red mouth over powered her chest. 

Shelly reached her hand behind his neck, pulled his ear to her mouth, and whispered something. Julie hadn't heard what Shelly said, but the man pulled his head back and said, "Really, what?" Shelly pulled him back in and again whispered. The man nodded. She whispered again, and he nodded for the last time. Shelly turned to Julie.

"Would you mind my bag for a few moments?"

Without waiting for a reply, Shelly linked her arm into the man's and they strolled off. Julie watched with her mouth open until it appeared from her seat, they walked out the door. She wasn't sure, however, because of the crowd. She turned back to the other guy.

"What was that all about?" he asked.

"Actually, I have no idea. This is the first time I've been out like this with her."

They remained pretty much like Shelly and her guy had left them, not knowing what to say to each other. Drinking in silence, they finished their drinks and he ordered another round. This got them talking again, but just as they did, Shelly returned, alone.

"Where's Max?" the guy who remained with Julie asked.

"He's just over there," Shelly said and nodded her head in the direction of his friend who had stopped to chat with a couple of other guys about twenty feet away. The man left to join his buddy.

Julie and Shelly looked at each other. Shelly was a bit of a mess. Her hair was mussed and her lipstick was all smudged. Seeing the look on Julie's face, Shelly spoke, while pulling a compact from her purse.

"Am I a mess?"

"Did you just screw that guy?"

Shelly laughed. "Lord no, was I gone that long? Just a blowjob, that's all."

"A what?!"

Shelly laughed again. "You heard right. I sucked him off. In his car. Do you want the details? How big he was? How hard? How much he came? Did I spit or swallow?"

"You're putting me on, right? You know that guy and set this up to, what, shock me? Have some fun with my reaction?"

"Jules, honey, it happened. I'm sure you're shocked enough."

"But, why?"

"As I told you, Stan's not the most exciting guy around, so I use a lot of fantasizing in our relationships. It helps me and, believe it or not, Stan benefits, too. Doing what I just did to that guy has put me in a good mood for Stan later. 

"We'll have much more fun in bed because I'm so cranked up right now. You know a lot of women look at naked guys in magazines or in videos and get all worked up over their cocks. They use them for fantasies. They masturbate thinking and viewing them. 

"I know you guys watch adult videos, you told me. What happens when the guy climaxes, and shoots his load all over the woman? Does it get you hot? Especially, when he has a really big load? Well, I just took that one step further. I actually saw the cock, touched it, sucked it, got that load.

"That cock in my hand and then my mouth sent shivers through me, right down to my pussy. My clit was twitching, is twitching. I'll be taking that home for Stan's benefit. He knows what he's getting out of this and that's why he's Ok with me going out. He doesn't know all the details, nor does he care. He just accepts his good fortune. And believe me, it is his good fortune."

Julie had just stared as Shelly spoke. She was speechless. Just then, a couple of new guys stopped. This time, they spoke primarily to Shelly, virtually ignoring Julie. After a few minutes, they left. Almost immediately, a tall handsome gentleman said hello. In very short order, Shelly had her arm linked with his as they strolled out the door. Julie's head was spinning.

During the ten to fifteen minutes Shelly was gone, a nice looking man in his mid-thirties stopped and began chatting with Julie. She couldn't remember anything either of them said. She was just amazed at Shelly.

When Shelly returned again, she was freshly made up and her hair combed.

"I stopped in the ladies room to freshen up," she said. 

The guy Julie was talking to immediately started talking to Shelly, but she pretty much ignored him. Rather, she began talking to this really young guy who just sat down on the bar stool next to hers. He barely looked legal to Julie. In fact the bartender carded him, even though there was a bouncer at the door who did that. Within ten minutes, Shelly and her young man left!

While Julie was left gasping at what was happening, the guy trying to have a conversation with her, got her attention.

"Are you going to let your friend have all the fun?" he asked with a slight leer.

At that moment, she couldn't think at all. 

"I'm sorry," Julie said, "I have to go to the ladies room." She picked up both purses and walked out the door.

In the parking lot, Julie looked around for Shelly, but she was nowhere to be seen. Julie walked to her car, and stood by the door, scanning the lot. After a few minutes, she saw a car interior light go on as a door opened. Shelly got out first, then the kid. They started back to the bar. Julie spoke loud enough to be heard.

"Shelly, over here, I'm over here," Julie called.

At the same time she opened the car door so Shelly could see the light. Shelly waved goodbye to her date(?) and walked to Julie's car.

"I've had enough. I need to get out of here," was all Julie could manage, as she climbed into the drivers seat. Shelly got in the other side.

Shelly did all the talking as Julie drove her home. Basically she just blabbed on. How Julie must be surprised. How she had been about ready to go anyway, the kid really sent her over the edge, great cock, huge load, delicious. How Stan was really so understanding of her needs, how she really did love him. 

Shelly told Julie how she really didn't screw around on her husband, just the oral sex, to get her mind fuelled. She really didn't do it that often. Yes she went out regularly, but she didn't go down on some guy every time. Tonight was special. She never went with three guys, just one. Ok, sometimes two, but that was rare, indeed. And on and on. It seemed like Shelly needed to just talk, a stream of consciousness.

At Shelly's house, Julie asked if she could use the bathroom before driving herself home. In the living room, Julie was shocked for the umteenth time that night when Stan stood to greet them and Shelly greeted him with a full, open-mouth, deep kiss. When she came out of the power room, Julie caught Stan pawing Shelly. He straightened up quickly, and Julie saw what appeared to be a "tent" in his pants. But it was so small, she wasn't sure.

Driving home, Julie was disturbed by many things. But the thing that confused her most, was how turned on she was. Her panties were soaked. She had been thoroughly disgusted with Shelly's behavior, or so she thought, so why this feeling. 

At home, she undressed, retrieved her favorite vibrator and spent an hour and a half pleasuring herself. She relieved the entire evening, climaxing more times than she could ever remember. 


Omaha



"When will we hear from Omaha?"

"I already told you, I have no idea when we will hear from them," Jordan replied, "Why do you keep asking me?"

"It's not for me, June over in three keeps calling. I tell you that one is on edge."

"Hell we're all on edge down here."

"No I mean really on edge, like kind of makes me worry she's like only fourteen protocol steps from the button, the big red button," Holly replied.

"Give her a break Holly, in three they're not as interwoven as we are here," Jordan said leaning back in his chair and looking up at the massive view screen. On it was a huge, lighted map of the world with a number of "hot spots" flashing red.

"Not as interwoven?" she asked, peeking through the gap at the bottom of the screen.

Jordan cupped his hand and made a back and forth motion while closing his eyes.

"You don't mean..."

"I do mean, she's in there with several by the bookers, straight arrows who are married first to the USAF and secondly to their husbands and/or wives."

"So no..."

"None," Jordan replied, moving his attention to his computer screen. He clicked a few keys and a streaming video popped up. At the bottom of the screen "Sri Lanka" was flashing in red. "You know, we ought to just summarily sanitize these 'hot spots.'"

"Yeah, put them out of their misery. Hey, speaking of misery, why don't we get June to come over after shift?"

"Well I'm good with that, she'll be an odd number but I think we can work something out."

"Oh damn," Holly said, "This is June calling again."

"Still nothing from Omaha."

"Yeah June... 

"Okay there still is no word from Omaha...

"No, Jordan has no idea...

"Look June, you need to take it easy. You're new here, why don't you come over after your shift ends and we'll get together here.

"No, no, don't bother bringing them, I mean they pretty well know all the bells and buttons, we just thought we'd let you get out of there for a minute or so. If just to visit another silo it would be worth it wouldn't it?

"Okay then, look don't try to drive it, it must be twenty below out there, take the trolley.

"Yeah, yeah, just lay down on it and you'll make it fine, we do it all the time. So you good?

"Okay, we'll wait for you say eighteen hundred hours?

"Good, see you then. Bye," Holly finished gently hanging up the phone. Peeking beneath the screen she nodded to Jordan, "She's coming over, eighteen hundred hours."

Jordan nodded and then stood up, "I'll go tell Jane and Stewart we'll have a visitor tonight." He walked through the large metal door, closing it behind him.

Leaning back in her chair, Jordan watched as a small red light began to flash in the Philippines. "Hmmm, a new one," she whispered to herself as she hit a few keys and began the targeting program run. She then looked up and saw June standing there.

"It's started, haven't you heard from Omaha?"

"June, what are you doing here?"

"Didn't you hear me, it started?"

"What started?" Jordan.

"Operation Green Eggs Alpha?"

Grabbing her codebook, Jordan quickly leafed through several pages and then looked up at June, "Was a keyword spoken?"

"Ham."

"Mommyfucker," Jordan cried out grabbing her intercom, "Holly, you better get Stewart and come here now."

"What's up?"

"Those GI Joes next door have gone alpha."

"What, another drill?"

"No Holly, Green Eggs Alpha, keyword Ham!"

"My God," she then screamed into the intercom, "Stewart, get up to the main com pronto. This is not, I repeat not a drill." 

Stewart rushed into the control room just ahead of Holly, "What's the board say?"

"Clean, two flashing red, nothing else."

"Then what are they doing? June you were there, what happened?"

"The board when blank, when it returned everything was flashing. Roger called it, Harold confirmed."

"The board's clean, what the hell are they doing? Get me a com line over to them."

"What about Omaha? June asked.

"Fuck Omaha, we gotta get them shut down."

"But what if it's real?"

"Come on June, our stuff malfunctions, mistakes are made, but no way this is real."

"Dammit Jordan, I cant get them on the com, I'll use the trolley."

"No good, they told me to seal it behind me."

"That's not protocol," Jordan said.

"The board, what's on the board?"

"The board is clean!"

"We need to start," June shouted.

"Why start, the board is clean?" Stewart asked.

"My God, the board, look at the board, it's gone all red," Jordan screamed.

"Son of a bitch," Stewart replied, he then paused, took a deep breath and then grabbed a key. Unlocking his desk he pulled out a notebook and opened it. "Okay, everyone stay calm," looking down at the book he read out Operation One fish Delta," turning the page he then read out, "Keyword: Two fish."

June then screamed, "Why hasn't anyone called Omaha, Omaha, Oma, Oma..."

-----

"June, June darling. You're Oma's here."

"Oma, Oma, Omaha..." she called out running to her grandmother.

"Why June, you're crying, what's wrong?"

"One fish, two fish," she replied, grabbing her and squeezing her hard.

Her grandmother looked up to the daycare worker and said, "You just have to wonder what they do in there all day together."

"Yes, whatever it is they work at it so hard. Oh Jordan," she called out, "your mother's here."

"Mommy, mommy," she called out running. "Blue fish, mommy, it was red fish blue fish and I called it."

"Oh that's nice dear, are you ready to go home."

Jordan nodded then looked back at her crew and waved, "Bye Stewart, bye Holly." She then took her mother's hand and headed out to the car.  



Omaha Ch. 02



On Friday afternoon, Annette, the front desk manager, had watched as Julie Mason sucked off a black stud in the ladies room of the Omaha Marriott. It changed her life.

* * * *

Annette was 41. She had been married for eight years. For the most part she was very thankful for her marriage. Once past thirty, she believed herself destined to be a spinster. She hated the word, but used the term purposefully because she despised her singlehood even more. The man who rescued her from that wretched fate was one Bob Fallows.

They met just after Annette started working for Marriott Hotels. Bob was holding a conference in Phoenix and dealt with Annette to arrange everything: meeting rooms and equipment, food, guest rooms. Bob was fifty at the time, tall and distinguished. But his thin physique and black hair belied his age. 

Annette was immediately infatuated and angry with herself for being so. It happened so many times before, but nothing ever worked out. She tried being hard to get, and got ignored. Once she tried being easy, but got ignored. Mostly she just let it alone.

Annette recognized her physical limitations. She wasn't beautiful. Neither was she ugly. She was neither tall nor short. She was average. Her best features were her legs and ass, on which she was sometimes complimented. Also there were her full lips. 

Worst was her hair, a mousy brown. In all honesty, it matched a mousy personality. But that personally that had failed her so many times in the past by disappointing those she wanted to impress, was what scored this time.

Bob had been married for more than twenty years before divorcing after his only child left for college. The marriage had been held together for the sake of the child for fifteen years, and both spouses were glad to finally have it terminated.

What Bob found so fascinating was how much a compliment or two could impress Annette. She was starved for affection and highly malleable. She slept with him the last two nights of the conference and would eagerly perform virtually anything he asked of her. 

His storm came in all her ports. He was especially impressed with her fellatio. She ardently deep throated his 5.5 inches and swallowed his cum. After telling her how good she was at it, he had to practically pry her off his knob to do anything else. 

Just before he left, Annette insisted on sucking him off one last time. He was very pleased when he watched her begin fingering herself while her lips were glued his dick. He saw that she continued after he had shot off in her mouth until she shuddered in her own climax. 

Bob was a great fan of blowjobs, and a woman who might be persuaded to satisfy his need while simultaneously satisfying herself was interesting indeed. After six months, two more trips to Phoenix, and one trip, by Annette, to Omaha, Bob proposed.

* * * *

On the Sunday after being virtually orally raped in the hotel restroom, Julie Mason left her husband in their hotel room at the Marriott, and walked to the elevator. She was headed home. She smiled to herself because she and Gary had had a really good time that weekend -- good meals, good sex. 

A very, very nice time indeed, triggered, of course, by the excitement of what she'd done on her knees in the ladies room Friday evening. 

When the elevator arrived at her floor, the doors opened to reveal Annette Fallows, also headed for the lobby. It was the first time the two women faced each other since Annette caught Julie administering oral sex to the biggest, blackest cock she'd ever seen. 

Both women blushed and looked in awkward silence at the floor of the car. Finally, Annette felt compelled to speak.

"Did you enjoy your stay with us?" 

Julie looked up at Annette, who looked back at her. And she simply burst out laughing.

"Yes. Yes, I had a very good time," Julie said, shaking her head. "In some ways you know more about me than my own husband. I didn't even know that man's name." 

"Norman," Annette said, laughing nervously. "His name is Norman. He comes here a few times a year on business."

"Oh," Julie answered, not knowing what else to say. The elevator doors opened at the lobby.

"What time is your flight?" Annette asked as they walked out.

"Not for another two and a half hours. When is the shuttle to the airport?"

"They leave every half hour," said Annette, glancing at her watch, "but I think you just missed it. Shouldn't be a problem, though. You'll get there in plenty of time for the flight."

"Ok, thanks."

"Hey, why don't you wait in my office? I can get you a cup of coffee."

Julie hesitated before agreeing. "Sure, why not."

Seated in Annette's office with the coffee, there was a short awkward silence before Julie spoke.

"I'm not at all like that, you know. I'm sure you think I'm a slut and all, but it isn't true. I'd like you to believe that."

"You've never done that before?"

"No, never," Julie answered eagerly, wanting for some reason to convince this woman she'd never met before of her...what? Innocence? Decency? 

Julie desperately wanted Annette to understand, so she just blurted out the whole story. In detail. And besides, she was dying to tell someone and who else could she tell?

"So, I guess you think I'm pretty slutty, huh?" Julie concluded, hoping to hear just the opposite.

"Jeez, what a story!" Annette answered, astonished. "I guess I'm really glad we had a chance to talk. I certainly wondered about what was going on. Needless to say, I'd never seen anything quite like that before. I was amazed at how big he was!"

"Tell me about! You didn't have it in your mouth!" Julie said.

"No, but I wanted to..." Annette answered, blushing. 

After a split second hesitation, both women laughed.

"Now who's the slut?" Annette grinned. "I swear, if he had told me to get down on my knees and do what you'd just done, no doubt about it, I would have."

"You should have," enthused Julie. "I've been so hot all weekend from that. Boy has Gary, that's my husband, had a tiger on his hands. Lucky him." Julie told the friendly hotel employee.

Julie then proceeded to tell Annette all about Shelly's philosophy of marriage and sex, about how Shelly sucked off young guys to improve her sex life with her husband Stan.

"When the guy cums in her mouth," Julie said, finishing, "she says it's Stan's reward because she's so hot for him when she gets home.

"Really?!" Annette was floored. It sounded so similar to what she and Bob had just talked about.

"Oh my," said Julie looking at her watch, "I think I must be going." Then, as she stood, "Norman, huh? Wonder where he's from."

Annette stood as well. "Do you know where Montclair is?"

"Montclair, New Jersey?"

"Yes, I looked it up on his registration card. I saw you were from New Jersey as well."

"It's only about 15 miles from where we live."

"Maybe you'll bump into him."

"One can dream," said Julie, as she hugged Annette and got ready to board the shuttle for the airport. "Sometime, maybe you'll get your shot at him. Call me, I'll give you some pointers." Both giggled.

As she walked back to her office, Annette thought back to Friday night. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about what she'd seen in the ladies room. For the rest of her shift the image of the kneeling white woman eagerly sucking off that black cock was locked in her brain. 

He was so enormous. And he wiggled it at her! Thoughts of that cock kept re-moistening her pussy every few seconds. Finally, she could take it no more and returned to that ladies room, went into a stall and masturbated herself to climax. The relief it brought her, however, was brief. She returned again and again to the image. She remained moist.

That evening she couldn't wait to tell Bob.

Sex after marriage had been something of a disappointment to Annette. Bob wasn't nearly the satyr he'd seemed in Phoenix. He wasn't always able to perform, especially if he'd had any alcohol. He apologized. He told her how getting drunk used to enhance his performance. 

Now her hot mouth on him often got little response. They had taken several steps to heat up Bob's passion. Bob had gotten some adult videos and toys. They helped a lot and became a permanent part of every session. They had also tried some role-playing and fantasy games. 

One fantasy that often came up involved including another person or couple. At first, they talked about both men and women. Soon, however, they settled into scenarios where Annette entertained another man. They would go out to bars where they were unlikely to know anyone, sit apart, and wait to see who might approach Annette. After a few tries and some experimentation, they learned what kind bait attracted the best fish.

Annette would wear an expensive blonde wig. She used short skirts to show off her legs that had become even more shapely due to her fanatic workouts. 

Early in their marriage, Bob had commented about how mushy her body was. Annette immediately began an intense body-sculpting program sponsored by a local gym. It worked wonders. From the waist down, she looked like she could be one of those workout models in one of those fitness magazines. Most of the models had obvious implants. She had talked with Bob about breast enlargement, but he was not in favor.

At the bar, Annette would sit alone wait for the unattached -- either permanently, or just for the evening -- to approach. Bob would observe from a discrete distance. Often she would be approached by someone totally unacceptable physically: too old, or fat, or just plain ugly. 

Usually, Annette could discourage them to the point they'd leave her alone. Several times, she and Bob had to leave the bar to get away from an obnoxiously persistent patron. About one third of the time, there would be no acceptable men who showed an interest. 

When someone with decent looks approached, Annette would let him buy her a drink, and talk with him for at least for as long as it took her to consume it. About half the decent ones ended up turning Annette off because they were too egotistical, too timid, or just plain, old-fashioned boring. 

Bob observed, and Annette later confirmed, that she seemed to make greater allowances for personality quirks the better looking the guy was. Annette also confirmed she was more drawn to younger men than older ones.

For the men that passed both physical and mental muster, Annette would spend as much of the evening with them as they desired. She knew she had free reign to do pretty much whatever she could get away with inside a bar. 

She danced and talked between dances. During slow dances, she would grind her pelvis against his, delighting whenever she felt a resultant erection. She openly engaged in French kissing. Sitting at the bar, she would teasingly drop her hand onto his arm and later his thigh when she laughed at his jokes. 

Depending on her mood, and how turned on the guy was making her, Annette might let him put his hand on her thigh. When it was time to leave, she would permit the man to accompany her to her car and allow him to feel her small tits as they kissed good night. 

Annette would start the car and pick Bob up at the entrance to the street, as he had been watching everything that transpired. When they got home, both would be more than ready for hot sex. Things followed along these lines for about nine months, although a couple of times, things had gone a bit further. 

Three times Annette had gotten into her car and continued making out with the man of the evening. She let them fondle her more boldly, allowing them to slide their hands up her thighs and caress her pussy. Bob had loved hearing about it, as she suspected he would, but she eventually stopped. Basically, the men had no idea how to bring her off manually. Their fumblings had a dampening rather than heightening effect on her passion. 

Driving home that Friday evening of Julie's bathroom blowjob, Annette replayed the scene over and over in her head. She went over what she would tell Bob. She felt certain it would excite him. She wasn't wrong.

At dinner, Annette said she'd seen something shocking in at work. Bob was one of those husbands that are good communicators, good listeners. He was probably more shocked than Annette had been, saying he thought she'd made the story up. Finally he was convinced of her veracity and they went over the details of the action several more times. 

Bob seemed especially interested in hearing about the kiss that transpired when Julie exited the ladies room and met her husband. The kiss from a mouth that had so recently contained a black man's cum. Annette wondered why he was so curious.

There was no clearing of dinner dishes that Friday night. In fact, the couple had to leave the table early -- for the bedroom. Each tried to out provoke the other with erotic comment or innuendo. In the end, Bob got Annette to admit she'd like to offer her own oral performance to that beautiful black cock. 

Bob concluded that idea turned him on enormously. He achieved an erection like he hadn't had in a decade. Annette got so hot she knew the slightest touch would trigger a climax in her. When she tried to clamp her thighs together to prevent her juices from running down her leg, she orgasmed spontaneously. 

"Oh my god, I'm cuuuuumming!" she screamed at her husband.

They had sex again on Saturday...three times.

At work on Sunday, after she'd spoken at length to Julie, Annette knew she was going to have a talk Bob again. When she got home, she went to the sofa where Bob sat, reading. She lay down with her head in his lap. She began to run her hand along his thigh, signaling her husband that she wanted to blow him. 

Bob knew Annette enjoyed performing oral sex. She'd told him about growing up and enjoying French kissing with the boys, how it turned her on more than having them play with her tits. How she'd gradually turned that pleasure into other oral satisfactions. 

Annette enjoyed blowing boys from the first time she tried it. Her friends weren't too keen on it, so Annette kept it to herself when she found herself fantasizing about sucking cock. 

Annette decided telling her husband about her first time might help with his erection.

"His name was Dennis," she told Bob. "We were making out in a spare bedroom at a friend's party. He told me he'd heard I was a good kisser and allowed some "feeling up." But as he tried, unsuccessfully for third base for the third time, the poor kid let his frustration boil over.

"Jeez Annette, you're such a tease. What's your problem, anyway?"

"I don't want to get pregnant."

"I'm just tryin' to feel it. You can't get pregnant from that!"

"No, but it won't stop there, will it? You'll just call me a bigger tease."

"Well you're already a tease for letting me get this far. My dick's so hard it hurts. Screwin's not the only thing you can do to help me out, you know."

"So, I let Dennis guide my hand to his erection, let him unzip and take it out, let him guide my hand up and down. But it was my own initiative that allowed my head to sink into his lap, that opened my mouth, that so enjoyed the feeling of his soft cock skin on my lips and tongue, and ultimately accepted Dennis's first explosion in a woman's mouth. 

"Ten minutes later, I accepted his second. I guess it was that night that I became a confirmed fellatrix."

The mousy wife could feel the firmness in her husband's pants and opened them. She offered him a warm, wet haven enhanced by a darting, swirling tongue. Far sooner than she expected, Bob responded with a warm, wet offering of his own.

Annette held him in her mouth as he began to soften. Emboldened by Bob's quick performance, she decided to try for something that was all too rare: a second delicious semen dessert.

As she stroked her husband's thankfully resurrecting cock, Annette told Bob about her call to Julie. She told him how Julie and her friend Shelly were parlaying their delivery of oral services to hot young men into highly charged sex sessions for themselves and their spouses. 

Annette wondered aloud if they should take their role-playing to another level. She asked Bob if he'd be OK if she gave blowjobs to some of the guys they met at bars. She knew from the hardening she felt against her cheek that she'd already "made the sale". 

There was no need for more discussion, but she continued, telling him about his benefits: a scorching hot wife, stories about hard young cocks, a flooded pussy for him to lick. Bob was in neither position nor mood to deny her either his permission to suck off others or his second load of the half hour.

The first few times they went out under their new agreement, everything worked like a charm. Annette met a suitably hot looking young man, danced, kissed, and went outside to her car. She got in, waited until he tried to feel her cunt, then quickly had his cock in her mouth instead, and both racing to the subsequent creamy finish.

Then Annette got greedy. She decided, rather than sit and wait for someone to approach her, she would pursue one of the best-looking guys at the bar. She had always noted that some guys would always leave her alone. These were the biggest hunks, the guys that just seemed to attract any girl they wanted. 

Annette concluded that, now that she had something highly desirable to offer, she should be able to hook up with any guy she wanted. She was wrong.

The first time she tried it, it backfired badly as the guy derisively told her "no" when she approached him. Annette stood her ground at first. She looked him in the eye, licked her lips, and told him, "You sure you know what you're turning down?"

"Sweetheart, you're too old and too plain. Do you think there aren't ten hot chicks in here I couldn't get to suck my cock if I wanted?"

She was devastated. Bob did his best to convince her that the guy turning her down was a freak occurrence. Annette knew intellectually that the rejection of her advances was in all probability an anomaly. Still, it unnerved her for quite some time.

Their sex life took a tremendous hit. Bob wasn't sure they should even try again. He didn't want her to shut down entirely. Finally, it was Annette's own craving to suck young cock that became irresistible, and she "let" Bob talk her into trying it another time. Things went well that night, and her sex with Bob improved as well. They were back on track.

* * * *

Annette knew a week in advance that Norman, the black man that she'd watched Julie fellate, would soon be returning. The closer check-in drew, the less she could control herself. The image of what she'd seen in the ladies room nearly four months ago would trigger a vaginal response she hadn't experienced before. 

She would have flutterings on her clitoris; lubricating secretions would moisten her panties. After three days, Annette took to wearing panty liners to protect her clothing as she had begun to leak through. At least once a day she would have to sneak away to the ladies room or a guest room to masturbate.

Annette and Bob had already discussed her desire to suck that big, black dick, what she would do and how she would accomplish it. Norman would probably check in on a Saturday. Annette would arrange to be at the hotel that day and would be near the front desk. 

The idea was not complicated. Approximately 30 minutes after checking in, Annette would call Norman in his room, inform him she needed to talk with him immediately, and that she was coming up to his room. Upon entering, Annette would tell him there had been a complaint about him on his last visit. 

She would convince him the woman in the restroom had reported him but refused to file charges. Annette would use this to try to put Norman off balance and gain an advantage over him. She would then use that advantage to negotiate the blowjob. 




Omaha Ch. 02



Although, it would seem to most men (and women) she wouldn't require any sort of advantage -- what man would refuse -- practical experience had shown her and Bob different. And she didn't want to be disappointed.

As anticipated, Norman arrived between two and three pm on Saturday. Annette was in her office pretending to catch up on paper work, but listening intently for the sound of him checking in. She compulsively checked the computer to make sure she hadn't missed him. 

It was on one of these checks, that she saw he was just in the process of getting his room. She peeked out; he was at the front desk. The knots in her stomach tightened. She had to sit down and breathe deeply. She waited for 30 minutes and called Norman's room. She drank 4 ounces of vodka in those 30 minutes making her slightly inebriated as she took the elevator to his floor.

This was the first time Annette would be performing on her own, without her husband around. Bob waited at home. Before she left he told how hot she looked. 

As it was really a day off for her, Annette had taken the liberty to dress more casually, more proactively than she would for work. She thought of wearing a skirt, but settled for snug shorts. They clung tightly, showing her ass off to perfection. Her legs were tanned and toned. She wore workout shoes with ankle socks.

Norman let her into his room. "Yes?" he said. 

Annette began to tell him her completely fabricated gambit. Norman looked puzzled for a few minutes, forcing Annette to go into more detail than she'd hoped. Finally, he understood what she was saying.

"You were the other woman in the ladies room, weren't you?"

Annette hadn't been prepared for this. She wasn't going to reveal her part, just that a complaint had been lodged. "Well, well, I mean...well, yes. Yes I was." 

Norman relaxed. He smiled broadly. Then he chuckled.

"There was no complaint. You're bullshitting. You were there. You saw what happened. She was a more than voluntarily participant. She got as much as she gave. No, she didn't complain to anyone. Would it surprise you to know she called me later, back in New Jersey? Yes, that lady gets quite a lot out of sucking my black cock." 

Annette was mortified. She was not prepared for this at all. She worried she might pee her pants.

"So you were there, eh? Julie told me about you. Said you enjoyed the show. Said you wanted some yourself." 

Norman backed up to the chair and sat down. He opened his legs far apart, and stroked at his crotch. 

"So that's what this is about? You want some of this." He looked straight into her face as he stroked himself. Annette watched his hand. He unzipped his fly and extracted his half-hard cock. Annette gasped. Norman continued stroking, building his erection.

"This what you want? Well, let's see what you have to offer. Nice legs. Turn around so I can see that ass. Mmmm, that's nice too. Ok, take off them shorts." 

Annette snapped out of the trance the big cock had placed her in. She had no intention of taking her clothes off.

"Um, no. You don't want that. It's my mouth you want." 

Annette spoke quickly, trying to regain control of the situation. She walked over to the chair and sank to her knees before Norman.

"What's with you white bitches anymore? All you want to do is suck cock. Doesn't anybody fuck anymore? You gonna get yourself all juiced up and take it home to your old man? Like that cunt Julie?"

By the time Norman concluded his rant, his voice was no more than whisper. Annette had moved her soft mouth onto him. Norman grabbed her by the hair and started shoving her mouth up and down to a rhythm he established. It wasn't long till she knew her reward was coming soon. 

Annette herself was having trouble containing the flowing down her thighs. She clenched them together and experienced her second spontaneous orgasm, this one much stronger than her first.

Annette thoroughly cleaned Norman's cock before she left. Twenty minutes later she lay on her back with Bob's face buried between her legs. Bob became the recipient of some exquisite sex that week as Annette, who spent both mornings and evenings kneeling between Norman's thighs, became another wife who understood the concept of "hubby's reward."



Omaha Pt. 01



I was the girl in high school that watched porn. I mean, I think most girls probably did since I went to a public school and not some private Baptist penitentiary. But me, I watched it and talked about it. Guys called me "dude" without thinking and I was vulgar enough that most girls didn't hang around me. 

I liked the rough stuff. I didn't talk about that part of my viewing preferences, but 'rough' was a recurring search term late in the evening. I was always like that and I couldn't really find guys that were comfortable with it later on. I'm a junior and I've found that no matter how many tattoos I get, how sweet my mohawk is, or how many body parts I can pierce, guys don't wanna fuck me hard enough. It made me resent men, to be honest. I think that's part of why I started taking feminist history classes. Men wouldn't give me what I wanted.

I started working in a call center over the summer which forced me to be around a true variety of people. Older men that had been laid off and ran out of options, younger guys that finished high school with no plans or applicable skills, women that bought more boots than their part-time job at TJ Maxx could fund, and people like me. Not a lot of friends and not a lot of family support. 

I wasn't looking for anything relationship-wise at the time, but it had been awhile. I was average height, thin, hair dyed jet black, tattoos, small breasts but a round ass. I got attention and then I got attention. My perceived "attitude" (i.e. person with tattoos) and personality made me hotter than I probably am. Even then, I didn't get much attention there. Except for one guy.

He was a bit taller than me, and strong. Not buff or ripped, but he looked like he could probably dead-lift a car off the ground. He was staring at me one day and I caught him. He didn't break eye contact. He just smiled and that made me smile. On my last break I ran into him near my locker. 

"Hey, you're new," he said, leaning against the wall.

"What, you have a superpower and it's sniffing out noobs?" I shot back, playfully.

"Sure. Look, um..." he looked around for a second, like he was about to buy drugs from me.

"What?" I asked.

"I wanna fuck you."

I didn't say anything right away. My face went red and I was filled with conflicting emotions. I was a little pissed that he would be so forward to a girl whose name he didn't even know. I also had fantasies that would, on occasion, feature a similar bit of dialogue.

"That's cool," was all I could think of to say.

"I don't want to know your name," he said, never breaking eye contact.

"I don't want to know yours."

"I get off at seven tonight, are you busy?"

"Well," I tried to think of a lie instinctively, but for some reason I just blurted out, "no, not at all."

"Are you interested?" he asked.

"What makes you think I'm not going to just report your ass to Human Resources as soon as you leave?" I fired at him, partially testing him but also serious.

"Let's just say you weren't entirely wrong about my superpower."

I thought for a second, not wanting to answer immediately. It had been awhile, and wondered if maybe this might be the guy that finally nails it home.

"Okay. But I like it rough. Can you give it to me rough?" I asked, a slight, seductive smile across my face. I raised the bottom of my shirt a little bit and rubbed a hand across my stomach.

"I think I can handle that." 

I pulled out a notepad from my locker and scribbled my address down. I handed it over.

He looked it over and than looked right at me. He said, "I'll be there at 7:30. Don't wear anything you'd miss if it were destroyed. The safe word is 'Omaha'. Don't forget that."

"Right, 'Omaha'." I said, feeling myself get warm down below.

"If you forget it, that's your own fault." With that, he turned and left. I couldn't believe what I had just agreed to. I went back to my desk, late. I could barely focus the rest of my shift. When I clocked off, I walked by him, smiling and waving. He just flat out ignored me. I thought for a second that maybe I had just imagined all of that interaction. I went straight home and showered. I put on an old pair of jeans and an old Kinks t-shirt that had various small holes throughout. I sat down on my day bed to read and left the door unlocked.

The clock read 7:31 and I was getting anxious. Then I heard footsteps outside. I didn't get up, just kept reading, playing it cool. Suddenly, the door flew open and he was standing there. He was wearing a white shirt, jeans, and some boots. I was startled but managed to not look up at him. The game was on, I thought. He walked over to me, snatched the magazine out of my hands and threw it across the room.

"Hey, I was reading that!" I shouted but was immediately stifled by the force of his hand slapping me across my face.

"I don't remember telling you to say anything." I was frazzled. 'Omaha' flashed in my mind but I immediately let it go. I thought maybe I wasn't as prepared for this as I could have been.

"I'm sorry, I-," SMACK again. I put my hand up to my cheek and felt the heat on my fingers. 

"Stand up." He demanded. I was turned on but a little upset at the idea of being bossed around like this. I wasn't sure this was the kind of rough I was looking for. I stood up.

"Turn around." I turned around.

"Undress." I undressed.

"Hands behind your back, crossed." I cross my arms behind me. I felt the rough texture of twine on my skin and I looked over my shoulder to see. He grabbed my head and pushed it forward.

"I didn't tell you to look at me." 

Without thinking, I blurted, "I'm sorry." I waited for a slap, but it didn't come. Instead, he grabbed my long, black hair and pulled my head backwards.

"If you address me, you address me as 'sir'," he whispered. I had wanted to be fucked hard for so long, but I just wasn't ready yet. 'Omaha' flashed in my head again. I had never verbally submitted to someone like this before, and all my women's history classes roared in my head in defiance to submitting to such a bullheaded man.

"Yes, sir," I mumbled.

SMACK. He open-hand slapped my ass so hard my voice cracked as I let out a small squeak of surprise.

"What was that, bitch?"

"Yes, sir," I said loudly. He called me a bitch! All my conversations with girlfriends about the demeaning words men used to exert dominance ran through my head. He was tying that twine really tight around my wrists, I could barely move them if I tried. 'Omaha' flashed again and was gone.

"Turn around." I obeyed. He put his right hand on my face, smushing my cheeks as he talked.

"You want to get fucked tonight?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," I said.

"You're not good enough." he said. 

"What?" I said, confused. 

SMACK. This time he slapped my right tit so hard I thought I was going to cry. 'Omaha' flashed and was gone.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you. I said, you're not good enough."

I tear slipped down my cheek. My head was full of frustration but my pussy was sopping wet . I didn't even know I had enough tit to even slap.

"Do you think you're good enough for my cock?"

I found it hard to look him in the eye. I wasn't sure what would set him off. I was mad that I was just letting myself be controlled like this.

"No."

SLAP, my other tit this time.

"No, sir."

"Say it."

I couldn't believe I was going to. "I'm not good enough for your cock, sir."

"That's goddamn right." He reached under my and put his hand over my pussy. He moved it around, not penetrating, just testing the wetness, I thought. A moan escaped my lips, surprisingly.

"You wanna see my cock?" I did.

"Yes, sir."

"Do you think you're good enough to see my cock?" I started to say 'yes', but I stopped myself.

"No, sir." He smiled.

"Correct."

"Please, sir. Can I please see your cock?" I wanted to see it, but I also just wanted to know that this was all worth it. I was afraid he was going to pull out some two-inch flaccid stub.

"You're not as stupid as you look," he said. I couldn't believe. Just when I thought he couldn't get anymore demeaning, he managed to out-do himself.

"On your knees, whore." I resented the latest slur, but found myself on my knees regardless. Then he pulled it out. It was... huge. Thick, long, and like the rest of him, it look strong. "Think you can fit this in your throat?"

"No, sir."

"Do you deserve this cock?"

"No, sir."

"Why don't you deserve it?" I wasn't sure what I should say. This was all new to me.

"I... I-I don't know, sir."

"Maybe it's because you're a whore." I knew I was going to say it, and I didn't even try and stop myself.

"I don't deserve it because I'm a whore, sir."

"Bend over the couch, stay on your knees." I did.

SLAP. He hit me right across my ass with so much force I couldn't help but squeal.

"Ow!"

SLAP. Again.

"What was that?" he demanded.

SLAP. 

"Fucking scream again, bitch!" he yelled.

SLAP. 'Omaha'. I could see it.

"Can you not hear me?" he was very demanding.

SLAP.

"Please, sir, I want your cock!" I shouted.

SLAP.

"Face me." I obeyed. 

"Open your mouth." I opened.

He grabbed my hair with one hand and squeezed. It hurt and tried hard not to make a sound. With his free hand, he guided his cock into my mouth, sitting the head in my mouth. "Do you feel like a whore?" he asked me.

"Yes, sir," I mumbled on his fat cock. He pulled it out and aimed my head up towards him. He spit a huge loogie on my face which was kind of gross. He spit again, and then rubbed it over my face and pushed his fingers into my mouth. Saliva was accumulating and he was wiping it around my lips. He pulled his fingers out and then forcefully tried cramming his cock into my mouth. He slowly moved it in and out, inching it deeper and deeper. I could only take so much and started gagging. When I did, he pulled it out and slapped me across the face.

"Are you gagging? Is my cock too big for your throat?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. Your cock is huge, sir." I told him.

"Do you want me to fuck your pussy?"

"Please, sir," I begged. Through everything, it's all I really wanted. To feel this thick cock plow into me.

"Are you fucking stupid?"

"No, sir."

SLAP. I reeled back from that one, across my other cheek.

"Yes, sir. I'm a stupid whore," I corrected myself.

"What are you good for?"

"I, uh..." I wasn't sure what to say. I needed a script or something.

SLAP.

"Holes. You're good for holes."

"Yes, sir. Please use my holes."

He did. He shoved his cock back into my mouth, grabbed my hair with both hands and pushed. He pushed his cock further down than I thought. I balled my fists, hearing once that it helped stop your gag reflex. I guess it worked, because I was within an a few inches of completely consuming his ten inch monster. He let go and pulled out his cock. I gasped for air. Before I could get a full breath, he had my head in his hands and was forcing his cock into my throat again. A little bit closer to the base this time, but still too big. I coughed, and he didn't pull it out. When he did, his cock was covered in my throat juice, which was also dripping off my chin and down my neck.

"Please, sir, please fuck my pussy with that giant cock," I begged him. 

He shrugged, "okay." He grabbed my hair and turned me around, pushing my head onto the cold floor. "But I'm not going to fucking look at your dumb face while I do it."

"Why, sir?" I asked, genuinely curious but not wanting to turn him off.

"Why? My cock is for pretty girls. Are you a pretty enough for my cock?" he asked. I was shocked and offended. I wanted to cry.

"I don't know, sir." I told him, not sure what to say next. Offended, but still aching for that giant prick.

"Answer correctly," he said as he kneeled behind me, pressing the head of his cock into my pussy, "and I'll fuck you right."

I didn't know what to say, or if I should say anything. I felt like a line might have been crossed. "Omaha" in mind.

"Did you not hear me, retard?" 

SLAP. That slap stung but not as much as the previous.

"Answer me."

SLAP. I cried out, he didn't care.

"I'm not... pretty enough... for your cock." I was defeated. He pushed his cock into my pussy, catching me off guard.

"Goddamn right, you're not." He plowed into me. I was defeated, but I was also consumed with pleasure. I wanted him harder and faster and I found myself not too concerned with what I had to do to get it. I felt my pussy expanding over his veiny, pulsing cock. He continued to slap my ass but I could barely feel it over the extreme pleasure rushing through my body. He grabbed my hair, pulling it hard enough to make me cry out.

"Shut the fuck up!" he shouted at me.

"I'm sorry, sir!" I replied. It was about then I realized I never saw him put a condom on. As much as I enjoyed getting my pussy stretched out, I started to panic.

"Are you wearing protection, sir?!" I yelled.

"I have no diseases, don't worry, bitch."

"I don't wanna get pregnant, sir!" I yelled back. 

He laughed, "yeah, well, my cum in your pussy should be an honor." 

"Please, sir, I can't-" I started, and then he pulled out. "What's wrong, sir?"

"You clearly don't want my cock inside you. So I'm done fucking your stupid pussy." He laughed. I started panicking again. I was still facing the ground and I heard him pulling his pants back up. 

"Please, sir, don't stop!" I shouted. I pushed myself onto my side to face him.

"Why should I stop?"

"Please, sir, you can fuck me however you want. I crave your cock," I pleaded.

"What if I cum in your pussy?"

"Please cum in my pussy, sir." I couldn't believe I was saying that.

"Heh, all right. Turn your ugly face around and show me your ass, whore." I did as I was told. He pushed his cock back inside me, pumping slowly. I heard him unscrew something, but I couldn't see what it was. Then I felt something cold and thick on my asshole.

"What's that, sir?"

"Your pussy is boring." He said snidely.

"I'm sorry, sir. I wish my pussy was better for you."

"I'm going to fuck your asshole now."

Omaha. Omaha. Omaha.

"Please, sir, anything but-"

SLAP. Omaha. He pressed his cock deeper into my pussy.

"I don't know what you're saying, you definitely want my cock in your asshole."

"Sir, it won't fit and it'll hurt and please-"

SLAP. Omaha.

"Sir, please don't-"

SLAP. Omaha, Omaha, Omaha. I couldn't say it.

"Beg me for it you stupid cunt," he growled.

SLAP. Omaha. So much going on, I couldn't formulate the words.

"Oh-ma-" I tried.

SLAP. I stopped. He pressed the head of his cock on the outside of my asshole.

"I said, beg me for it you stupid cunt."

SLAP.

"Oh-ma-" I tried again.

SLAP. SLAP. SLAP.

"What the fuck did I just tell you? Are you fucking stupid?" He growled, louder now.

I had to do something. I didn't know where it was escalating to.

"Please sir-"

SLAP.

"-fuck my stupid-"

SLAP.

"-asshole."

SLAP. And with that, I could feel his cock penetrate my asshole. It hurt. I screamed out, in tears.

"OOOOH-MAA-"

SLAP. He pushed deeper and pulled back. Then again. And again. I was sobbing into the floor.

"OOOH-MA-"

SLAP. I couldn't take it. I just couldn't. I felt like it was killing me. I had to. Omaha.

"OOOH-MA-"

And then he was inside me, completely.

"OOOH-MY-FUCKING GOD" and just like that, it was all I wanted. My asshole just stuffed beyond capacity with his giant cock.

"You like that, whore?" He shouted. I didn't care. He won.

"PLEASE SIR! FUCK FUCK FUCK!"

He pounded away. Every push felt I was about to explode. I had never felt so violated and objectified and it was everything I wanted. An orgasm took me over and wrecked me. My legs started twitching and I didn't feel like I had control over my body any longer. 

He pulled out and crouched over my chest. I could smell my pussy and asshole all over his slimy cock. I was in a state of complete bliss. He jerked himself off until he came, gobs and gobs, all over my face and neck. He stood up, bent over and slipped three fingers into my asshole.

"Who does this belong to?" he asked me.

"You, sir." I didn't even hesitate. He grabbed me by the hair and pulled me onto my feet. He walked me over to a full length mirror in the other corner of the room.

I saw myself. My body covered in red marks. My face covered in cum and clobber. Mascara ran down my face from the tears and my hair was all over the place.

"Now you look pretty." 

"Yes, sir," I agreed.

"Next week, I have more plans in mind."

"Yes, sir, whatever you want."

"That's a good whore." He said.

"Yes, sir," I agreed.



Omaha Pt. 02



"Sara, if you're not going to do it the right way, don't bother doing it at all." 

She sounded like my Mother. Really, she was just my team manager, but she was such a bitch. And it seemed like it was only me that she was that way with. So I was having to deal with this on top of the fact that I hadn't seen Mike since our brutal session last week. I was walking with a slight limp for a day or so following. I had red marks all over my body and I was losing my voice. But goddamn if it wasn't the hottest, most satisfying sex I've ever had.

I had only seen him at work once since, and he ignored me. I felt stupid, smiling at him and then feeling like a crazy person. It's not like I expected us to be boyfriend or girlfriend. I'm not stupid.

"Sara! I told you to lock your workstation before you leave!" Emily was yelling at me. I was so wrapped up in this situation with Mike, I was starting to lose my cool at work. "Don't worry, I did it for you," she huffed. I was walking away and heard her talking about me to some of my co-workers, and them laughing. Not an isolated occurrence, either. She knew she was more attractive than me. Blonde, big tits, round ass, every typical attribute every typical man would desire. I had also heard that she had dated Mike in the past, which made me even more crazy. Someone got the regular version of Mike? 

I was leaving for the day, so I stopped by my locker. I opened it and found an envelope inside. I pulled out and it read: I NEED A KEY TO YOUR APARTMENT, LEAVE IT IN THIS ENVELOPE BEFORE 9PM TONIGHT. Enclosed with the note was a picture of Mike's huge, erect penis. I put it all back in the locker, shut it, and felt myself tingling between my legs.

I drove down the road to a hardware store and made a copy of my house key. I stopped back into work and dropped it inside my locker. I was turning to leave and bumped in Emily, who spilled coffee all over her white blouse. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I was, I was in—" I stammered.

"Are you fucking stupid? Watch where you're going!" she yelled, storming off into the ladies room. My face was bright red with humiliation and I took off into the parking lot, and headed home.

Later that night, I was taking a shower. Over the noise of the water pelting onto the tub's surface, I heard my front door open. Mike. It's Mike, he's here. I was nervous and all kinds of mixed feelings. My body was anticipating pain but preparing itself for mind-numbing pleasure. I turned the water off, stepped out and toweled myself dry. I thought about going to get dressed, but figured I might as well stay as I am.

I walked down the hallway into the living room. I turned the corner towards the living room and called out, "Mike? Is that you?" A female voiced replied.

"Not quite, hun."

I made it to the living room and saw Emily sitting in my chair. I got really embarrassed and confused, I started to turn back to my bedroom but felt Mike's strong arms holding me in place.

"Sara, you know Emily, right?" he asked, pushing me forward into the open living room. I nodded, not able to speak. Feeling humiliated. 

"Mike tells me he's training you to be his little whore, is that right?" she asked me. I didn't say anything and just looked down at the floor.

"She asked you a question, cunt." Mike walked over to stand next to Emily. I had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable. "Answer her."

"I'm sorry, sir," I managed to stammer out. I looked at Emily who was smirking at me.

"Well, are you his little whore, Sara?" Emily asked.

"Yes, ma'am." I said, defeated. She stood up and began circling around me, talking to Mike like I wasn't there.

"Why her? She's so thin and brittle. No tits to speak of, really. She's not very pretty and by all accounts from her co-workers as well as yourself, she's fucking stupid. She ran into me at work, made me spill coffee all over myself!" She walked around, judging me and ridiculing me. My eyes welled with tears. "What's her safe word?" she asked Mike.

"Omaha", I said. 

SLAP.

Emily struck me right across the face. "Is someone talking to you?" she laughed.

"I'm sorry," I said as tears began to stream down my face. Why was I allowing this to go on? Was I that infatuated with Mike that I would go through this for him?

"On your knees," Mike demanded. I obeyed.

Mike pulled my arms behind me and handcuffed them there. Emily put a collar around my neck, leash attached. "Bring her back here," Mike told her. Emily followed him, tugging on the leash. I crawled behind on all fours, thinking about what I should do or when I should stop it all. Omaha. 

We reached the bedroom and Mike shut the door behind me. Emily kneeled down to face me. I couldn't quite look her in the eye and tried looking around her to avoid her piercing glare. She smirked at me. 

"Mike has a really beautiful cock, don't you agree?" She asked me.

"Yes, ma'am." I said, nodding.

"Why do you think he'd waste such a great cock on someone like you?"

"I don't know, ma'am." I continued to avoid her stare.

"Me neither." Emily unbuttoned her shirt and took it off. Her white lace bra barely contained her gigantic tits. She unbuttoned it from behind and slowly removed it. "You'll have to show me, I guess." She fondled her breasts in front of me, giggling slightly throughout. "Do you wish you had tits like these so Mike had something shove his cock between?"

"Yes, ma'am." I nodded, avoiding her glare but not being able to look away from her mountainous rack. Mike unbuttoned his pants and lowered them. His huge erection sprang to life. He removed his shirt, showing off his hard body.

"Let me show her how it's done, Mike." Emily fondled herself as Mike lowered his cock into her open, waiting mouth. Right in front of me. I don't know if I was just generally frustrated or jealous, but a few tears streamed down my cheeks watching her bob back and forth on his tremendous shaft. Mike moaned in pleasure. I wanted to make him feel that way. More tears came. Mike grabbed me by my hair and made me look at him.

"Are you crying?"

"I'm sorry, sir," I said. Drool spilled from Emily's lips, wrapped tightly around his thick cock. Drool fell from her chin and landed on her tits. She bobbed back and forth, rubbing the saliva over her chest.

"Do you want to taste my cock, slut?" he asked me, knowing the answer.

"Yes, sir, please." 

SPLAT. Emily had pulled his cock out and spit right in my face. I whimpered as more tears came. This isn't how I imagined things going. Emily laughed. "Why are you crying? Are you a little girl?" Mike asked me.

"No, sir, I'm not," I told him.

SLAP. My face stung. Omaha rang reverberated throughout my head. More tears came.

"Are you gonna be a big girl and stop whimpering like a fucking retard?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," I mumbled.

SLAP. Again across my face. My face was hot with pain. Mike grabbed my leash and drug me over onto the bed, face down. 

"If you're gonna act like a little girl, I'm gonna fuck you like a big one." Mike said.

SLAP. Right across my ass cheek.

"Oww!" I cried out.

SLAP. Again. I felt him press the head of his cock against my asshole.

"No, please, I'm not ready!" I pleaded through the tears.

"Shut the fuck up!" SLAP, against the back of my head. Omaha flashed.

Whether I wanted it or not, his cock came squeezing into my tight asshole. He would pull out a little and the push a little bit harder until all of it was crammed into my ass. I cried out in silence, snot dribbling from my nose.

"Jesus, Mike, this ugly bitch just can't handle it." Mike's cock was pulsing inside my asshole, which I could finally feel loosening a little bit. Emily sat in front of me, legs spread wide. She was pleasuring herself watching me get annihilated by Mike's cock. 

"Are you a big girl?" he asked as he viciously plowed into my now gaping asshole.

"Yes, sir, yes!" I exclaimed, watching Emily fervently rub her clit.

Mike suddenly pulled out right as I came. He slid next to me and slapped my ass.

"Now, be a good girl and clean me off before I cum in Emily's pussy," he directed me. All I wanted now was to feel his pulsing cock in my tight pussy but I had to watch him plow Emily. 

"Come on you cunt, I don't want your dirty asshole inside me," Emily said. Mike grabbed my haird and pulled me towards him. I opened my mouth and he shoved it in. It tasted like sweat and I could also detect the stench of my asshole, however faint it was. He pushed me off him when he was done, and Emily pulled me into her place. She got on all fours, facing me. Mike crouched behind her and plunged his cock deep, to the hilt. She cried out so loud it hurt my ears. Emily hovered above me as Mike gave her full thrust. My pussy was soaking wet, watching Emily's round, natural tits flop around with every thrust. I took one her tits in my mouth and sucked it gently. Emily continued to moan louder with every thrust. She leaned to me and whispered into my ear.

"Have you ever been fisted?"

I shook my head. Emily pushed me up against the headboard. She put a hand over my pussy and felt it's wetness soak her hand.

"Jesus, this bitch is dripping wet." Emily slipped a few fingers in. "And tight, I see why you like to put your big dick in her, Mike." Mike slowed down as he watched Emily slide a third finger in my pussy. I could feel it start to hurt.

"Please, it hurts, ma'am." I said, quietly. Just like that, Emily reached her other hand out around my throat and held me against the headboard forcefully.

"I didn't say you could talk, cunt." I found the room to breathe as Emily slipped a fourth finger in. Mike pulled out and looked to slide his cock into Emily's asshole now. "Ooo, fuck yeah, daddy. Give it to me like one of your stupid whores."

And just like that, Emily was nearly through my vagina opening with all five fingers.

"Oh yeah, go deep daddy, go deep," Emily moaned as Mike gave her the business. I started moving my hips into Emily's hand, and it finally slipped through. Emily's entire fist was in my pussy. Up to her wrist. Mike started plowing like her asshole owed him money and she returned the favor by pounding my pussy as hard as she could with her fist. I could see the outline of her fist in my stomach she was so deep. Between her chokehold and the immense amount of pleasure coursing through my body, I blacked out for a few seconds. I came to with Emily licking her hands up and down, my legs shaking as if I had a seizure and Mike laying on his back.

Emily pulled me towards her, laying me on my back. She crouched over me, squatting with her asshole above my face.

"Do you want Mike's cum, whore?" she asked me.

"Yes, ma'am. I do."

"Suck it out."

Emily lowered herself over my face and I desperately tongued her gaping asshole. I could feel the cum seeping out over my lips and my chin. She stood up and left for the bathroom. I looked over at Mike.

"When can I have your cock again? In my pussy, sir?" I asked him, quietly begging.

He looked at me, "Next week."

"Thank you, sir", I said and slipped into a dark sleep.



Omaha



She thought of Shelly's strange treatment of Stan, not letting him kiss her on her lips when she left, but offering those same lips to strangers' cocks, and even more bizarrely, the French kiss AFTER letting the guys cum in her mouth. 

It excited Julie that Shelly had that much control, that much power, in her marriage. Her greatest climax, however, came as she remembered the last guy, just before she walked out saying, "Are you going to let your friend have all the fun?" 

Julie imagined doing with him, just what Shelly was doing. It would have been so easy. Just walk out to the car and suck his dick. She shot off like a rocket. Before she drifted off to sleep, Julie wondered if Shelly was right. She had gotten so hot just imagining it, would actually doing it be even better?

* * * *

Julie came out of her trance and was staring at Paul. Yes, Shelly was getting some of him, all right. It was easy for Julie to imagine Mrs. Cohen manipulating her student teacher into letting her suck his dick. And, yes, Julie was jealous. 

She'd thought about her night out with Shelly many times. It fuelled many fantasies. If she were more daring, Julie might have actually done it herself. But that wasn't her way. And she remembered the disaster of the affair Gary found out about.

Today was Paul's last day. Julie had missed going out for a drink on his actual birthday because she had to attend a function at Gary's business. So, tonight was make up night. Gary was out of town again. He really seemed to be traveling more lately. Each drove to the bar separately where they would celebrate the completion of Paul's assignment.

The couple sat at a table in the back. The bar wasn't crowded yet. It was still quiet enough to talk. Julie bought the drinks. They toasted to Paul's successful completion of practice teaching. Julie lavished praise on him and told him she thought he was going to make a great teacher. 

Paul thanked Julie for all her help, said he hoped to work with her again, and was very serious. The conversation lagged on several occasions, and Julie was tempted to bring up the thing that had been bothering her most these last few weeks. Finally, she took a breath, and looked directly at her drink.

"So, are you still seeing Mrs. Cohen?" Julie asked.

Let the discussion begin, Julie thought, looking up. Now it was Paul's turn to stare at his drink.

"I think it's pretty much over. I mean, we said our goodbyes on my birthday. I mean, she filled in for you when you had the other things to go to. So, I think that's it. I mean, she said to come back to see her and all, but I doubt I will once I get back to campus. So, I guess it's over."

Julie had been really obsessed about Shelly doing HER student teacher. She was surprised at how strongly she felt that Shelly was usurping something that was rightfully hers. She yearned to do to Paul what Shelly was doing but was afraid about how she might stack up performance wise. 

After all, Shelly had a lot of practice. She must be really good. So, on one level, Julie was afraid to compete with Shelly. Julie might be better looking, but as she'd discovered that night at the bar, that didn't hold up so well with someone who could and would perform. She was really afraid that, given a choice, Paul might pick Shelly over her. It was with that trepidation that she forged ahead.

"I hear Shelly's done that with quite a few fellows. I suppose she's really good at it."

"Um, yes, she's good."

"Does she, you know, um, complete the job?" Julie never actually knew if Shelly swallowed or not.

"Oh yeah. She never takes her mouth off till I'm completely soft. Never spills a drop." Julie didn't know if Paul was embarrassed by these questions. He seemed eager enough to answer them. Sexy talk might turn him on, she thought.

"So, you liked it, huh?" Julie asked

"Yeah, who wouldn't," Paul replied. "And otherwise, I'd have to spend a lot more time jerking off. The really nice thing? SHE always thanked ME, afterward. Said how much I had pleased her. Made me feel like I was giving, not just getting. She really enjoyed doing it." 

Strangely, Julie found herself getting soaking wet hearing about this beautiful young man getting blown. Not for a normal reason like she would soon be fucking him but because she desperately wanted to be the one doing the sucking. 

Suddenly, Paul turned the tables on Julie. "Have you ever done anything like that? You seem pretty interested."

"Oh god, no!" Julie smiled. Of course she'd had a couple of affairs, but she wasn't about to reveal those to Paul.

"Would you want to? I mean, have you ever thought about it?" 

Uh oh. That was a very different question. Should she answer truthfully? Julie thought. Could she?

"Well, um, I don't know, um, I mean, uh, I'm not sure," Julie was stammering badly. She looked at her drink, avoiding eye contact.

"Have you ever thought about sucking me?" Paul persisted.

"Yes." She looked at her drink and spoke softly.

"Would you like to try it?"

"I think so." 

Paul stood up and held out his hand to her. Julie reached for it and stood. They left the bar and headed for Julie's car.

"Since I've had the most experience, I guess I should lead." Paul was trying to lighten things up. Julie was very nervous.

"We should get in the back seat." Paul got in, moved to the far door and sat with his back resting against it. Julie got in. Paul moved one leg against the seat back and left the other on the floor. He unzipped his fly.

"I've thought about doing this practically the whole time I've been here. At least since Mrs. Cohen introduced me to it. You are really pretty," Paul said seeming less nervous than Julie.

He had it out now, and was stroking it. Julie stared at Paul's cock. Since they got up from the table, her level of excitation had been rising. Her pussy continued juicing as she watched Paul caress himself. The cock itself was nice, though not as large as those on adult video. Very pretty, very hard.

"You should get on your knees on the seat, between my legs." 

Julie did as she was told. Later, Julie would remember how much it excited her when she'd seen Shelly kiss Stan after their night out. How she liked the idea of the power, how she'd like to make Gary do that. Make him want her to do that, the way Stan did. 

Now she found another side to this as Paul was ordering her to do things. This too excited her. Doing what he wanted. Wanting to please him. This was in many ways analogous to giving gifts. Both the recipient and to giver feel a sense of pleasure.

Julie was on her knees on the back seat of her car. She was hunched forward, her face approaching Paul's cock. She just kept going forward, parted her lips, and sank her mouth down until her lips felt Paul's pubic hair. The touch was electric within her body. She had goose bumps all over. Her Pussy flooded. Her clit throbbed. She loved it! She lifted her head the length of Paul's cock. She plunged down again.

Paul moaned softly. 

"Oh. That's really good. You're mouth feels so good." 

The head of his cock just reached the back of her throat as Julie went deep on every thrust. With her eyes closed, she concentrated on making her mouth the equivalent of a hot, wet vagina. She swiped her tongue across his glans, as her coach-lover had instructed her. Gary loved that, too, but never knew how she learned it. She never touched him with her hands. Paul was groaning more loudly. Suddenly, he spoke.

"Do you want me to pull out or cum in your mouth? Mrs. Cohen told me to always ask that."

Julie almost laughed, but didn't. She had actually thought how she wanted this. Interestingly, Julie had swallowed for both her lovers, but never did for her husband, Gary. She would sometimes let him cum in her mouth, but always spit afterward. 

Also, interesting was her internal rationale for this. Growing up, she and her friends had always expressed disgust whenever the subject of a guy unloading in a girl's mouth came up. They felt the girl would really be a slut if she let that happen. 

So, Julie, not wanting a guy she was serious about (Gary) think her a slut, refused to allow him to cum in her mouth, even after they were married. Later, after her lovers, she felt a little guilty, and relented, but she still refused finish completely as if holding on to some vestige of propriety. 

With her lovers it was just the opposite. Julie didn't care if they thought she was a slut. In fact she wanted to promote it to some extent as it heightened the pleasure they and she obtained from the affair. 

Julie pulled off Paul just long enough to answer. "In my mouth." 

After just two more strokes, Paul exploded. Julie kept her mouth on him and administered soft, loving caresses until he softened and slipped from her lips. Paul opened his eyes and saw her sitting back looking at him. He smiled and adjusted his pants, zipping his fly. Julie did not miss her cue.

"Thank you," Julie giggled, remembering that Paul had said Shelly always told him that. Paul knew what she was doing and laughed along with her.

"That was really nice," said Paul. Julie was dying to know how she compared to Shelly, but was too afraid to ask.

Their parting was quite quick after they got out of the back seat. Later, at home, Julie had the most fun with her vibrator she'd had since her night out with Shelly. She thought she understood Shelly much better, and wondered if she'd be friendlier to her at school again. They had more in common, now. 

* * * *

Julie was waiting for her husband in the lounge of the Marriott Hotel in Omaha. She'd just been served her order, a Cosmopolitan. The drink was somewhat new to her and she had really taken a liking to them. In addition to its great taste, it also quickly lowered her inhibitions, something she'd like for later that night. The Marriott made a great one.

The lounge was totally empty save Julie and the bartender. She sat at a table on the side. She knew from the bartender's frequent glances in her direction he wasn't simply seeing if she need her drink refreshed. Undoubtedly, her short skirt was leaving quite a bit of thigh exposed beneath the surface of the table. 

Let him look, thought Julie, deliberately swinging her legs as she rotated her swivel chair. Under the skirt, she wore stockings and garters, and she wondered how much he could see. What's the harm in a little show, she thought. Besides, if I want another drink, he'll be sure to do it right. The man was not her type at all, pudgy, balding, and short. Oh well.

Just as the bartender brought her second drink, a black man entered the lounge. He sat at the bar, ordered a beer, and surveyed the room. Meaning Julie. He was seated about 15 or 20 feet from her. He smiled, raised his glass and nodded at Julie. 

She smiled back, but then quickly looked away. Although the man was tall and handsome, about 35, she guessed, she was in no position to think about him right now. Julie looked at her watch and attached an annoyed look to her face. Even though she wasn't looking at either of the men, she instinctively knew they were staring at her. She wanted to present a picture of just what she was: a woman waiting for someone who was late.

Where was Gary? He was nearly half an hour late. Damn him. He'd better get there soon. Her mood was beginning to darken. Just then her cell phone rang. After a brief conversation, Julie hung up.

"Fuck." She said it loud enough for the man at the bar to hear.

"Something wrong?" the black man asked, trying to sound sympathetic. Julie sensed he just wanted to move in, but answered him anyway.

"The asshole's already late, and now he's going to be another 30-45 minutes!" She said and took a big gulp of her drink.

"He's a fool," the man at the bar replied, pressing what might be an opening.

Julie didn't need that just then. Another sip of her drink, and she got up and went to the ladies room.

Standing at the mirror, she fussed with her hair and examined her makeup. She was really pissed at Gary and was totally unprepared when the black guy walked right into the room! What was going on? She thought of screaming, but he just shook his head.

"Don't do that," he said, "I'm not here to hurt you."

"Then just get out and leave me alone. You shouldn't even be in here. Get out, or I'll call security." Julie was truly frightened.

"No you won't. You'll do exactly as I tell you." He was rubbing his right hand along his crotch, and smiling at her. She tried to move around him and get to the door. He moved like a cat, and blocked her path.

"Please," the man said as if what he was doing was perfectly reasonable, "do as I say. You won't be hurt. As a matter of fact, I guarantee you'll enjoy yourself." 

He lowered his zipper. Julie was frozen, her eyes on his hand. He extracted his cock and stroked it. Flaccid, it was bigger than her husband's erection. She stared at the hand and what was in it. The black cock began to grow.

"Take off just your panties," he told her. "I'm going to do you with your clothes on." His cock was fully erect. He moved his hand up and down its length. Julie watched, not moving. She tried to say "No", but it came out a moan.

"Your panties, now! As you can see I ready to begin. I want them off." 

Still staring at his giant phallus, Julie came out of her trance a bit. Her mind was whirling. She didn't want this man to fuck her, but he looked like he was prepared to take what he wanted. Frightened, she managed to speak.

"No," she managed to say. "You don't understand, there are probleMrs. Down there. I can't. I just can't. It's too complicated to explain." Julie lied desperately hoping to get the black man to leave her alone.

He looked surprised, but just for a moment. "Look, honey, I'm gonna be getting this off right now. Nothing's gonna stop that. And that's what you are for. Now get them panties off."

"Really, I can't." Julie stated, starting to feel more in control. "Look, I'll get you off. I can suck it. I'm really very good that way." 

Julie took a step foward and sank down to her knees. She reached her hand out and touched him. She looked up into his eyes.

"You'd better be good. You'd better swallow it all."

"I will."

"I don't want any dribbling onto my pants." 

He closed his eyes as Julie's mouth enveloped the first five inches of his mammoth organ. Both of her hands fit on the shaft that didn't fit in her mouth. She used them to jerk him off into her mouth. He moaned.

Now that the danger had subsided, Julie looked at his huge prick as it entered and exited her lips. He really was big, and black. Of course, she'd always wondered if the myth was true. Now she knew, at least for her sample of one. 

Against her will, it seemed, she began to get turned on. She was sucking a great cock. Black cock. Forbidden, hot, hard, delicious cock. Her pussy juices were flowing. The guy was right; she was enjoying this. She pulled it all the way out of her mouth and held it in both hands and looked up at him.

"Give it to me, damn it. Shoot me that sweet cum." 

She sank her head back down. She had chosen her words carefully, to enflame him, to get him off. It worked very quickly, of course she also enflamed herself even further. He let out a big groan and Julie knew it was on its way. Incredibly, it actually tasted like no other she'd ever had, almost sweet. Julie gulped it down. None got on his slacks.

Just as Julie sat back on her heels, she noticed a woman who had entered the restroom. It was obvious from how the woman's jaw hung open that she'd witnessed quite a bit of the show. The woman stared at the black man with his semi-flaccid penis extended from his fly and the lovely, older white woman kneeling at his feet. The black man remained incredibly calm. Facing the newcomer, he proudly displayed his cock at her before tucking it back into his pants.

"Sorry, honey," he said, "but I'm all set for now. But I'll be at the bar for a while. Look me up in about half an hour and I should be re-loaded.

Without another look at Julie he left. 

Getting quickly to her feet, Julie recognized the woman as the front desk manager that checked her in. She still had her badge on, but she remained speechless. Julie walked past her and back to her table. The manager followed her out, as if drawn by an invisible string. As she approached her table, Julie saw Gary standing in the lounge looking around. 

She was a bit surprised to see the black guy was back at his seat at the bar, thinking he would have chosen to leave in case there were consequences. But Julie realized that, after what the front desk manager had seen, there was no one who would believe she was coerced. Despite the initial intimidation, she had chosen to finish it herself. She knew that, there came a point in that room, where if she knew Gary himself were about to walk in, she would have chosen to continue and let her husband witness her infidelity. She was that hot.

Gary hurried over and hugged her. He whispered that he was sorry for keeping her waiting. While in Gary's embrace, during the apology, Julie, head turned toward the bar, caught her black man's eye. Despite the fact that she clearly saw the bartender watching her from behind him, Julie slowly ran her tongue across her upper lip and mouthed the words, "Thank you." 

The black man whose sperm now swam in Julie's belly raised his drink toward her, nodded, and took a sip. Then, as the front desk manager and the black man at the bar watched, Julie drew Gary's face in her hands, pulled him toward her and gave him a deep French kiss. Then she quickly downed the last of the Cosmo, and walked out of the lounge with her husband.

As Gary started toward the front entrance to get his rental car, Julie hooked her arm in his and steered him to the elevators instead. As Gary started to question things, Julie looked at him and smiled.

"There's something I want to do first." Gary gave her a puzzled look.

"I missed you," she lied. Completely unaware of his impending good fortune, Gary was about to benefit handsomely from what Shelly called "Stan's reward".

Not until they disappeared into the elevator did Front Desk Manager, Mrs. Annette Fallows move. Except for a brief moment in the ladies room when she watched that monumental black organ being put away, Annette had watched Julie. The only thing she would find more shocking than what she witnessed the woman do would be how it affected her. 

End of Part I