<<<<<Orphan Annie's 4th Adventure>>>>>
Larry gave me the robe. It was lightweight and cool, just
what was needed when the nights never really cool down. I
noticed that when I pulled it snug it showed off my nipples, but
I really think Larry liked it because when it gaped, it gave him
just that little bit of cleavage that men find so much more
exciting. I liked it, though, because it smelled of Larry, who
much to my pleasure was turning out to be a regular.
Since I would be away for almost a week, I took the robe
just to remind me of him. I was running this convention--well,
part of it--and hotel living is supposed to be a bit more modest
than tromping around the house with nothing on. Not, mind you,
that I expected to have any real time to socialize, since it was
going to be a series of 18-hour days.
Well, there WAS going to be this ONE dance, the second
night. I at least would have enough time--if I wasn't already
exhausted from two days of work AND a day of preparation--to try
out the floor. The band was going to be halfway decent, so this
one respite was coveted just a little.
Have you ever noticed how when you're content with things on
the home front is when you get some REALLY interesting attention?
I know men complain about it, saying that just when they're
relaxed with one woman is when they really get hit on, and I know
there's something to that, because when they're self-assured (or
maybe just assured of pussy?) they're just that much more
attractive (there's this other theory, which says that since
they're involved elsewhere it's safe to fool around with them;
maybe that's true, too). Well, I was pretty comfortable with
Larry, seriously had no plans to fool around (not out of
commitment, out of contentment), and I was attracting an unusual
amount of attention.
This older guy, not fat and horny like the stereotyped out-
of-town salesman, but trim, gray, cultivated, and probably about
50, didn't say much but kept his presence known. He was just
frequently around, and more than once I caught him just looking
at me...not STARING like the psychotics, just an appreciative
glance. None of my coworkers knew him, and he wasn't ALWAYS
around, so I just put it down as nothing unusual. I had his
nametag checked out ("L. K. Kendricks"), and he was a rep from
some obscure manufactory back in the Ohio Valley, certainly no
one I'd know. And certainly no one I'd go out of my way to meet.
I did go to the dance. Some of my coworkers had to drag me
away from reworking (admittedly, for the THIRD time) the
preparations for the next day's activities, but I did go. I
thought I'd have a couple of drinks and chat it up with them.
Some had their husbands, and one or two had found someone at the
convention. What ended up is that we got a table near the rear
(like I said, it took a while to get me out, so we were late) and
before I knew it I was abandoned there. The girls talked for
only a few minutes, then dragging their guys out onto the floor
they had left me nursing a scotch. I was a little tired and the
scotch only accentuated it; before long I was thinking about
things long ago and far away.
The reverie was interrupted by this rich tenor "Good
evening." It was old LK, "Lawrence Knight" it turns out to be,
another Larry. Deja vu I was not prepared to deal with tonight,
but I couldn't just give a cold brush off to a kindly
introduction. I got permission to call him "LK"--he winced when
he said OK, but I couldn't stand the idea of "Larry II." He
wasn't merely a sales rep; he was in engineering and there was
some new process here he was checking out; he had done his job,
in fact, and was leaving next noon though our "show" had another
three days to run. He was efficient and professional. More
importantly, though, he was generous, getting me to talk and,
soon, even laugh. I switched from scotch to Calistoga and before
long we, too, were on the dance floor.
LK was a good dancer but didn't make me feel like the klutz
I know I am. When we were dancing apart he'd flash this smile
that was becoming quite charming, and when we were dancing close
he kept me smiling with a few bon mots. I was soon laughing as
he'd point out someone on the floor and give a complete
description, based entirely on their appearance, as to where they
lived, what they were here for (professionally AND otherwise),
and what they were like at home. It was hilarious: he'd start
talking about another person, then spin me around so I could see
over his shoulder while from memory alone he spun this incredible
web of fact and fantasy that fit like a wet T-shirt. And he
moved so gracefully, I could feel through his jacket he was fit
without being rough; he was certainly easy going enough.
When we took a break I got these sly, "I told you so"
glances from my friends. What could I say, they had me! When I
explained it to LK, he sort of smiled, and said he'd come to the
dance just to see if he could meet me, and I did feel flattered.
When we were back on the floor, I told him I had to be back
reviewing preparations early the next morning. It wasn't late,
but I was really enjoying this and I'd let it GET late if I
didn't extract soon. LK sort of frowned, but let it go at that.
He said he could tell I was tense and tired, more relaxed than an
hour ago, but still tense and tired. Well, thanks a lot, guy
(but it was all true)! He'd say goodnight, then. By the way,
though, would I have a break tomorrow morning and could I come by
his room before he left? 1402? Well, I'd see. With a small
kiss on his cheek I grabbed my purse and left.
But back in the room the bed (a HUGE king size number--god,
what was the hotel expecting, a menage a quatorze?) looked
particularly lonely. Sure, Larry would have been great, but
Larry was not here and Larry was--well, not permanent. Maybe,
though, his robe would make me feel better--no, in fact the smell
just made it worse. Calistoga or not, two scotches (were they
doubles?) had gone to my head and I was alone, lonely, and
getting horny (it had, after all, been three days!). I rang
1402, then hung up when LK answered; he was there. And he was
leaving tomorrow; this, too, would not be permanent.
I put on the robe and not much else, put in a diaphragm, and
went for a massage. I figured there had to be a great masseuse
in 1402. When he answered the door LK was still dressed, though
out of his jacket. He'd been sorting through his briefcase, and
I could see that my arrival was an unexpected brightener for his
evening. As I asked if the masseuse was still in I saw his eyes
glance down to my chest and it didn't take long to get an
affirmative answer.
First, though, he showed me around--probably just to
convince me there was no one else there, and that there had been
no one else. Not that I cared, for he'd made his availability
very clear. I handed him a bottle of baby oil (all I could find-
-I really hadn't been expecting a need for the scented stuff).
Larry--no, LK--took me to the bed and helped me out of the robe.
He didn't grab for my tits right away, a little touch of class
there, and had me lie on my stomach. He sat beside me and slowly
opened the bottle as he talked about how my work reflected my
self-confidence and how he really disliked mousey women. Then he
stopped, rolling up his sleeves as sort of an afterthought; it
took me a moment to realize the pause was just him caring for his
clothes. He began to rub the baby oil over my back while talking
about how good my back looked. The man was class all the way--he
dressed well, he talked well, he kept after himself, and he made
me feel really appreciated. Just what the doctor ordered.
He finished my back (a few tough spots he worked out so
gently I hardly knew they'd ever been there!) and started down my
arms, stretched out over my head. I opened my eyes and saw him
really throwing his body into it. A little music? Sure, and he
found a soft jazz station. When he came back I lifted my arm up
and rolled over just enough to pull off his bow tie (NOT a clip-
on job!) and undo the studs on his tux shirt. Then I just fell
back onto the bed and let him finish my arms.
I told him my butt was special--I'm really aroused by
contact there and I wanted him to take some care. As I helped
him slip the panties off, he said not to worry. The man was at
once gentle and generous with his attention. By the time he'd
finished and started down my thighs I was really squirming. I
wouldn't even let him finish my calves, I was really ready for
him.
I rolled over and reached up to his shirt, pulling it
quickly off. I sat up and reached for his trousers, startling
him with my speed. He slid his shoes off as I undid the
fasteners and with the suspenders down they just dropped to the
floor. I laughed when I saw the polka-dot boxers, but
everybody's got a quirk, somewhere! When he figured out what was
so funny he joined in; at least I'd had the smarts not to laugh
and point!
He climbed on the bed and we took each other in our arms.
First a tentative kiss and then a longer, deeper, exploratory
one. I put my leg over his, and felt the hair on his leg awaken
every nerve on the inside of my thigh. His hands moved from my
back to my side to my boobs, and then his mouth went from my lips
to my throat to my nipples. I lay back and felt this almost
primal suction bring me to full alertness. His lips and tongue
worked my nipples, and his hands worked my breasts. My mouth was
open and I was gasping, already.
Then, soon, too soon (don't stop!) he was continuing down.
His tongue explored my navel and that made my legs start sliding
up and down on the bed. His hand came up between my legs and
cupped my mound, gently, then squeezing firmly, and then a finger
started exploring. His mouth was kissing my entire abdomen and
soon his middle finger was sliding up deep inside me. He brought
his mouth down and his tongue played my clit for a while, then
replaced his finger. God, such a tongue!
I had to return the favor. I pulled him up and then rolled
him over onto his back. I slid one hand underneath his waistband
and found what I'd been looking for and then with the other just
pulled the waistband down. It was gorgeous--erect, waving in the
air, all pink and throbbing. I kissed the tip, then the shaft.
I licked the shaft and massaged the tip. It was getting wet on
its own and I had my first taste of this man's love juices,
something I always find hard to resist. I took him into my mouth
and started sucking and massaging, my lips running up and down
his length as I took him all the way back in my throat. My head
was bobbing up and down, my breasts were brushing his thighs, one
hand had his balls and the other was rubbing his chest. It was a
one-man band and he was making great music!
He had me stop and I couldn't figure why--I was really
getting going. Then I understood, as he turned around and put
his head between my legs. Again, this fantastic tongue worked
all over my mound, inside and out. I had him almost swallowed
and was feeling great. We must have gone on that way for twenty
or thirty minutes, and I remember coming at least three times.
But he stayed with me--I'd never had a guy stay up after so
much stimulation. Is this what you get with older men? His
attention to me told me he was still part of my team, so I guess
this was just a virtue of experience. But after three orgasms I
really wanted him inside and we'd find out just what he was
really made of. I let go and turned around--now both of us had
our feet at the head of the bed.
I took him in the traditional method, as his weight fell
right on me and he'd probably be able to pump just that much
better. I was right, for he slid right in and began a rhythm
that had me coming again and again almost immediately. Soon, his
face screwed up and his breathing changed and suddenly he was
spurting these fabulous warm gobs all the way up through me. I
was writhing and must then have passed out, between the pleasure
and the scotch. I've NEVER done that before!
I wasn't out long, because the next thing I knew he was
slowly pulling out. Ohhhhhhhhhh. His smile was right next to
mine and with a last kiss I just rolled into him and went to
sleep. I vaguely remember him turning me around on the bed and
his pulling the covers up and over us, and I clearly remember
getting my leg and arm over him, but until he woke me gently at
6:00 (god, I could have slept till 9:00, and missed everything!
what a wonderful guy) I don't remember a thing.
We had a little quickie and then I stumbled off to my room.
God, I could hardly walk! First Larry I and now Larry II. There
has to be something in that name!