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“Toying” With Her

3/25/2015

(I was requested to repost this old story)


I collect old toys on-line. I once heard such collecting
described as “a sentimental journey back in time.”
Whatever the reason, collecting is my passion, but only
toys made by a specific manufacturer—the one who’d
made my childhood toys; my own nostalgic journey back into
time.


Two years of collecting had my collection nearly complete–lacking
only the real rarities not found in on-line auctions. To
get them one must go to live toy shows and buy them from other
collectors.


Twice a year Pennsylvania holds such a show. One Fall I decided
to attend. Not only would it give me a chance to buy and sell
toys, it would afford me the opportunity to meet other buyers
and sellers I only knew in cyberspace. Kim was one such person.



She and I transacted over the internet. She mostly sold,
I mostly bought. Although we talked about toys, her emails
were flirtatious to the point I had the sense she was coming
on to me. At first I wrote my reaction off as wishful thinking;
until another friend told me she’d given him that same
impression. The news had my mind churning as I thought about
the impending toy show. What the heck? I emailed her and
told her I was attending, and if she was going too, would
she like to have dinner one night. To my delight she accepted
the date.


Since I was selling toys, my table partner and I arrived
a day early to ready our display. The buying public wouldn’t
be allowed inside until noon the following day. Since Kim
was in that latter category, we agreed we’d meet at the
entrance to the show. I’d only seen the small picture
of her she’d posted on her web page. She appeared to be
quite slim and in her late thirties.


Just past noon the second day the show opened its doors to
the public. I was scouring the entrants when I saw one very
hot looking number come through the door. She had on cowgirl
boots, skin-tight jeans and a mid-drift blouse that showed
off a very hard tummy. As I stood checking her out, thinking
all sorts of horny thoughts, she looked up and waved, “Rob?”



My gawd, was this sexpot her. “Kim?”


We hugged and were soon laughing and making small talk as
we made our way around the toy show. After 15 or 20 minutes
I excused myself to get back to my abandoned table partner.
She smiled and walked off in search of toys to buy for resale.



About a half-hour later she returned to my table and asked
if I’d help her carry her purchases to her car. I was soon
walking across the parking lot laden with armfuls of toys.
All seemed on the up-and-up as we unloaded toys and headed
back to the show. As we strolled she laced her arm around
my elbow and pulled it to her, pressing it into her boob.
She had to be aware of what had happened, but held me there
anyway. How should I respond? After a few strides I pulled away,
fearing she’d think me a pervert. Better safe than sorry.
But had this been accidental? The more I thought about it
the less likely that seemed. Deciding to test the hypothesis,
I extended my elbow until it was once again flush against
her breast. She didn’t flinch, seemingly oblivious
to what I’d done. What the hell? An old flame of mine had
dubbed this girl’s game, “Playing Boobie.” Who
was I to deny her fun? We walked, arms intertwined, my elbow
on her tit, back to the show. Visions of possibilities danced
through my head.


We returned to my table. Before she left I asked what time
she planned to leave. She claimed she’d seen virtually
everything and suggested we leave early for drinks. We
were gone within the hour.


Since she’d yet to check into her motel, we drove there
in our separate cars. Finding a line at the registration
desk, we headed for the bar instead. Actually, a barn would
be a more apt description. Although it served alcohol,
its wide open spaces and western décor were a far cry from
the intimate setting I’d hoped for.


It turned out she was a beer drinker. We had that in common,
but what other interests might this stranger in tights
and I share? I found out very quickly. Before we were done
pounding down our second brew I learned that she and her
husband had been sleeping in separate bedrooms for the
past several months. Our conversation also revealed that,
although she didn’t like it at first, she’d learned
to enjoy giving head. Where had that come from? Since the
topic had been volunteered by her without coercion from
me, it reinforced my speculation that the lady was hot to
trot.


She starting pushing to find a restaurant, but I had other
ideas. Wanting to steer her apparently hot pants to the
privacy of her room, I talked her into checking in and dumping
her luggage and toy purchases in her room before we ate.
With key in hand, we drove around the parking lot looking
for her room. When we arrived I commented that the place
looked familiar; that I’d been here the previous afternoon
for room action.


“Room action, ” she said, laughing. “What on Earth
is that?”


“Well, before the toy show opens, I guess it’s traditional
for the sellers to open up their motel rooms to one another
and display and sell toys in advance of the show. It’s
where most of the sellers exchange the rare toys. They call
it room action.”


She was still laughing when she opened the door. “Hey!
Was there any ‘room action’ in here?”


Nervous small talk ensued as she unpacked. Pretty soon
all was in its proper place and any excuse for remaining
exhausted. If I was going to initiate something, it was
now or never. She must have sensed the same thing. We locked eyes and stared
at one another, prompting me to walk over, pull her close,
and kiss her. She leaned into me, pressing our bodies together
as our tongues began a passionate duel. I slid my arms down
her backside, grabbed an ass cheek in either hand, squeezed,
and pulled her to me. She ground her abdomen into my groin.



I backed us to the nearest wall, and leaning against it,
pressed her loins to mine. My cock swelled to fullness.
After some heated groping, I proceeded to back her toward
the bed, never breaking our kiss.


When she felt the bed press against her legs she broke the
kiss, scooted onto the bed, and lay back, legs parted, looking
at me. It was all the invitation I needed. I crawled across
the mattress and very pointedly pressed my erection against
her mons, and lay down, and proceeded to hump her as we renewed
kissing. Moaning, she pulled me closer.


After a bit I rolled to my back and pulled her on top of me,
her clit atop my bulging cock. My hands crawled up her backside
and found the bare flesh of her lower back. I’d forgotten
about her open mid-drift. My hands continued up and under
her blouse as I began a sensual back rub. She, in turn, ground
her sweet parts into mine.


I consider seduction to be an art; one requiring planning
and cunning. In keeping with an overall strategy that stated
once you reached one plateau, you should immediately pursue
the next one, I fumbled with her bra clasp.


“Hey!” she said, “You can’t do that.” But by
the time the words were out of her mouth the strap was opened
and I was stroking my hands up and down her bared back, hopefully
heating up her engine.


At first she did nothing, but then surprised me by pushing
her upper torso off the bed, resting herself on locked elbows
while keeping us connected at the groin. Her dangling bodice
with its unhooked bra provided a tantalizing view. “Why
did you do that?” she asked, giving me a questioning look.



It was do-or-die time. Instead of answering I lifted her
blouse, knowing my actions would either end this budding
liaison immediately or we’d be off and running. Raising
both shirt and bra high enough to expose one small breast,
I kissed her nipple.


She remained motionless above me, neither assisting nor
resisting. After a few pecks, I sucked her tit into my mouth.
After nibbling her flesh, I slid it out of my mouth until
all I had captured was her nipple. Biting gently and flicking
my tongue, I tickled its tip. She arched it forward. “Yes,
do it that way.”


Approval!


I worked that bud to full erection then pulled back to lift
up the other side of her blouse. She quickly brought her
other breast to my waiting mouth. We’d moved to the next
level.


Soon that nipple was as engorged and swollen as the first
one. Time to move on. I sat up and tugged her top piece and bra over her head. She
raised her arms, helping me. Tossing them on the floor,
I removed my own shirt and heaved it too. “Yes, get those
things out of the way, ” she purred as we lay back down.



After a brief ass massage, I rolled her onto her back and
started suckling a tit. I slid a hand enticingly down her
tummy, over her pants, down to her pussy where I stroked
her, rubbing up and down, gently applying pressure. Her
thighs drifted open.


This continued for a bit before she suddenly sat up. “I’m
sorry, but I have to pee, ” she announced. I wondered
which had taken the greatest toll on her bladder, her three
beers or the pressure of my massage.


She scooted down my body, her eyes devouring my body as she
crawled to the bottom of the bed. She started for the bathroom,
but suddenly stopped and spun to face me. “Stay right
there! Don’t go anywhere! Don’t you DARE! I’ll be
right back.”


Right, like I would contemplate leaving. I looked down
and saw a visibly hard and swollen bulge protruding from
my pants. It pointed down my pant leg, stretching my jeans
so tightly over my cock you could make out its contour in
minute detail, right down to the fact that I’d been circumcised.
It was a protrusion in desperate need of release.


Minutes later she returned, crawling up the bed, retracing
her exit route. She paused over my groin, staring. It didn’t
require a crystal ball to fathom the object of her attention.
Eventually she continued up my body, but only until her
face reached my chest. She stopped there, and ever so slowly
began a retreat, working her way back down my body, swaying
back and forth, caressing my chest not only with her cascading
hair, but the tips of her nipples, too. “Does that hurt?”



How could such soft caresses hurt? It took me a second to
figure out what she meant—her hip was pressing against
my cock, copping a feel. Hardened, it was impervious to
pain. “No, I’m fine, ” I answered, hoping she’d
continue with whatever she had planned.


And so she did, scooting lower until her face once again
hovered over my crotch. After a moment’s pause she reached
out and cupped my bulge. “This looks so nice, ” she
crooned, stroking its length.


An instant later she was on her knees, unbuckling my belt.
She unzipped my fly and tried to pull down my pants, but my
weight prevented it. I lifted a hip, fully prepared to let
her tug them down my thighs, but she stopped after exposing
only a few inches. She switched to my other side. I lifted
that hip, but as before, she ceased tugging once she’d
exposed my pubic hairs. Then, moving her jaw back and forth
and licking her lips, she slid a hand inside my shorts, seeking
her prize.


A set of very cold fingers captured my cock and dragged it
into view. Since my shorts still covered my pubic area,
she’d only exposed its tip. Not to be denied, she tugged
my elastic band down and out of the way, laying bare her objective.
Fingers tenderly enveloped it just below its head. She
leaned down and ever so gently licked its tip; round and
round; up and down. She looked up, watching me watch her.
Eyes dancing, she flashed me a smoky, sultry look as she
continued to tongue away. To say it felt fantastic would
be a gross understatement indeed.


It didn’t require a genius IQ to determine my clothes
were in the way. “Just a minute, ” I said, regretfully
pulling my cock from that tantalizing tongue. I ripped
off my jeans and shorts, tossed them to the floor, and lay
back down, granting her unfettered access.


With my cock now fully-exposed, she caressed its length,
bottom to top, top to bottom. After several gentle strokes
she tightened her grip, lowered her mouth, and resumed
her delicious licking, her slavering tongue exciting
and delighting me no end.


As erotic as it was, lifting my head to watch her was kinking
my neck. I lay back and shut my eyes, savoring her delicious
attentions.


After some infinitely wonderful duration she stopped.
Oops! In my pleasure I’d forgotten about her needs. She
must have felt abandoned as she sat up and announced in a
dispassionate voice, “Let’s just cuddle for a while.”



She moved up beside me and lay facing away from me. Momentum
was no longer in my favor. It was time to rectify that.


I scooted close, pressing my bare cock into her ass. Draping
one arm over her, I reached under her with the other. I gathered
nipples in hands and gently twisted them, all the while
kissing her between her shoulder blades. Within seconds
I had her panting; the game once more afoot.


Once she was sufficiently aroused, my kisses drifted lower.
I slowly worked my way down her spine, not only kissing,
but teasing her with my tongue in much the same fashion she’d
done to my cock moments earlier. Lower and lower I went,
until I could no longer reach her breasts. Releasing them,
I continued my downward journey. Things were out of kilter,
however. Although I was naked save for my socks, she was
bared only from the waist up. It was time to rectify that.



Finally my lips reached the base of her spine and the point
where her pants were in the way, I pulled the material away
from her body, and licked as far down as I could, which wasn’t
far. That was fine, since my true goal was to make it obvious
that her clothing was in our way. This accomplished, I sat
up, rolled her onto her back, and went to work on her snap
and zipper. She offered no resistance as I slid her pants
down her thighs, her gaze flitting from my erection, to
my eyes, and back down to what interested her most.


I could only tug those jeans so far though; those skin-tight
pants would never slide over her cowgirl boots. I grabbed
one and tugged, but instead of coming off, her entire body
slid toward me. “How do I get these things off?” I asked.



She pointed her toe. “You’re doing it right. Just keep
pulling.”


Grabbing a heel, I exerted far more effort than I would have
dreamt necessary. Finally it came off. The other boot was
an equally difficult task, but eventually they were on
the floor where they belonged.


I returned to her clothing. The jeans had slipped off her
hips, but not her panties. She raised her his so I could get
them too, but I ignored her efforts, contenting myself
with her pants. Soon she was naked save for a scanty red thong
that covered so little of her crotch that pubic hairs protruded
from either side.


I’ve always believed that the more erotic a sexual encounter,
the more exciting and memorable it would be. I figure most
women’s first sexual intimacy involves getting felt
up in the back seat of a car, with some boy’s hand winding
up in her pants finger fucking her. Since those early experiences
were a woman’s first turn-ons, I figured they were likely
their naughtiest memories; the ones most likely to excite.
I set about testing that theory.


I edged my way up the bed, all the while caressing an incredibly
soft and supple thigh. Gently stroking, I made an excruciatingly
slow and tantalizing journey toward her pussy. After what
I hoped seemed an eternity for her, my hand found those oh-so-skimpy
briefs. Leaving it in place, I slid up beside her and took
a nipple into my mouth. Only then did I slide a hand inside
her panties like those high school boys undoubtedly did
so many years prior.


I went directly to her clit, rubbing and teasing. I was surprised
to find it dry. To rectify that problem I slid my hand deeper,
found her opening, and inserted a finger. She was drenched
there. Pulling out, I rubbed my moistened finger up and
down her slit and returned for more lubrication. In no time
her entire love canal was slick with her juices–her clit
included. I looked up. Her eyes were shut–lost in God
knows what fantasy. Sure she was in la-la land, I sat up and
stripped off her panties.


Now stark naked, she lay watching in total submission,
waiting for whatever would happen. Grabbing her behind
each knee I lifted her legs, pushing them up and out until
her knees were perpendicular to her torso and pinned against
the sheet. Slipping my shoulders between her splayed thighs,
I lowered my mouth.


Submission remained her mantra as she let me devour her.
There were no moans, no gyrations, just occasional sighs
and limp acquiescence. My finger returned to her opening,
stroking her depths while I chewed and licked her clit until
she was nothing but percolating hormones. Still, I worked
her, pushing her need higher and higher.


Finally confident she was mine to do with as I pleased, I
knelt, my throbbing, rigid cock bouncing in front of me.
Her eyes locked on it as I inched ever so slowly toward her
splayed and waiting pussy, letting her contemplate what
we both knew came next.


After what must have been fifteen mini-knee steps, my cock
hovered near her opening. She placed her hands on my chest.
“No, Rob, we can’t, ” but there was no push of hands
or force behind those hollow words. She was mine for the
taking and we both knew it.


I continued as if she hadn’t said a thing. Cock in hand,
I touched it to her opening. Rotating it in circles, I applied
pressure. Her vulva parted. Her gaze fixated on my cock
as it ever so slowly eased its way into her. Once the head
was in, flesh succumbed and her body received me. Her head
fell back with an audible gasp as my throbbing prick sank
from sight, having buried itself deep within her slickened
canal.


I pressed my lips to hers, but she twisted away, her need
for romance apparently supplanted by more base desires.



I withdrew my tingling member from her delightful wetness
until only its tip remained inside. Cocking my hips, I thrust
back into her with as much force as possible, burying myself
to the hilt. I was rewarded with a squeal.


Delighted by her reaction, I repeated that action—over
and over, pounding her with slow yet powerful staccato
thrusts, using all the force I could muster.


Eyes shut and mouth open, she greeted each lunge with a carnal
moan and a toss of her head. With each insertion she’d
cry out and flip her face in the opposite direction. In and
out; back and forth; each stroke evoking a new wail and a
swivel of her head. It was magnificent.


I sat perched on my knees, savoring the sight of my plunging
cock as it disappeared and reappeared, glistening with
the sheen of her copious juices. There was a clock beside
the bed. It read 3:30. I had met her for the first time just
three hours earlier and here I was, my swollen member plowing
her depths, giving her the fucking she’d obviously come
hoping to receive.


We’d hardly begun to screw when, face contorted in an
erotic grimace, she scooted downward, arching her body
shoulders to heels. She couldn’t weigh more than a hundred
or so pounds–barely half my size, yet she was lifting
our combined weight several inches off of the bed, cumming
like a banshee. I stopped pumping and buried by cock as deeply
I could, holding it there as she continued what seemed an
endless orgasm. Her pussy worked my cock over, squeezing
it; milking it, her torso vibrating. Only a concentrated
effort kept me from cumming with her. On it went, making
me wonder if her climax would ever end. Body rigid, her tremors
continued. I’d never seen a woman cum anywhere near that
long, not to mention so quickly.


Finally, I drew back and started thrusting anew. This seemed
to break the spell. She fell back to the bed, and tits arched,
stared up through glazed eyes, lost in the rapture of our
coital joust.


I pumped in; then out. Fast, then slow. Straight, then angled.
I switched from missionary to doggie style. It made no difference
what I did, she simply moaned beneath me, eyes often shut,
relishing the pummeling of my unrelenting cock. Watching
her, I began to wonder at her limits—assuming she had
them. Would kinky appeal to her?


I broke our silence “Gawd, fucking you feels great.”
I had no idea how she would respond to “dirty talk” but
intended to find out. I wanted to drive the level of eroticism
through the roof if at all possible.


When she said nothing, I pressed. “Do you like having
me fuck you?”


She opened her eyes. The look on her face told me I was treading
grounds she’d never walked before. “Yes, ” she
finally whispered.


“Yes what?”


“It feels really good.”


“What does?”


She stared up at me, taking her time. “Getting fucked.”
Her use of profanity seemed to tear down some barrier. Her
eyes bored into mine. “I can’t believe you can keep
going so long without cumming. How do you do it?”


Frankly, I had no answer, but I was grateful for this timely
moment of self control. This was a fuck I didn’t want to
end.


Ultimately it was fatigue, not loss-of-control that made
me decide to cum. Relishing the prospect, I ratcheted up
my speed, pounding her as hard and fast as I could. She went
wild; twisting, thrashing; wailing beneath me. I hoped
I was giving her the fucking of her lifetime, because it
was definitely on my short list.


There was no way I could maintain this pace without cumming;
besides, I’d forestalled that pleasure long enough.
While doing it doggie, I let nature take its course. Blood
engorged my cock, swelling it harder and fuller. A wonderful
tingling rushed up and down its length. The feeling consumed
me and I was soon lost in the ecstasy of my ejaculation.


Grabbing her by the hips, I pulled her to me as I erupted.
I stopped thrusting and pushed my cock as deeply as I could,
pinning her to me, savoring the bliss of each ripple of cum
as it emptied inside of her. Time stopped for me for those
few seconds. I was in Nirvana as, mouth open and eyes closed,
I convulsed over and over again, emptying my seed. She in
turn, ground herself back at me, eagerly receiving my offering.



Spent at last, I slowly extracted my deflating tool and
lay beside her as we caught our breath. After a moment I asked,
“You ready for that dinner?”


“No way, ” she said, “we’re not leaving this bed.”



Yes way I mused as I thought about it. On this day I may have
been a cocksman supreme, but I wasn’t Superman. I needed
a break. “I’m hungry. Let’s eat and come back later.”
I winked. “The night is still young.”


After driving around what seemed to be half of Pennsylvania,
we found a restaurant and sat down to enjoy our meal over
wine. A casual observer overhearing our conversation
would hardly guess we’d only known one another a few hours.
What would really have stunned them was to learn we’d
spent a good portion of that time fucking one another’s
brains out.


The dinner conversation was mostly pattering—fun,
friendly and unforced—just two people having dinner.
There were only a couple of references to our earlier tryst.
First off she had accused me of obviously being very experienced—how
else would I have known to do that kissing thing on her back
to excite her. And yes, she thought talking dirty was erotic,
but would have chosen romantic over erotic had I asked.



Romantic? We were fucking, not dancing. Did she really
expect romance from a one-night-stand? I kept my thoughts
to myself, however. I had often heard that men and women
had been exchanging sex for love for centuries—apparently
nothing had changed.


Dinner done, we headed back to her room. Seconds after our
coats were discarded we were back on the bed. “Are you
going to wear those?” I asked, nodding toward her pants.



“Want them off?”


Without waiting for an answer she sat up. Seconds later
every stitch of clothing she wore was somewhere on the floor
and she was back in my arms, her tongue probing my mouth,
seeking mine. Romance hell, this lady was raring to go.
This wasn’t going to be about seduction; that game had
ended earlier in the evening. Its rules were I push; you
resist, then you ultimately relent, and we both get what
we’re after.


Fevered kissing, hugging, fondling and petting soon had
our flesh all hot and rosy. Tryst number two had hardly begun
when she sat up, stripped off my shirt, jerked down my pants,
and tossed them across the room. Feigned resistance would
clearly play no part in this go-around; nor would coy.


I don’t know which happened first, my clothing hitting
the carpet or her gullet engulfing my cock. Her former snakey-licky
ministrations gave way to the lady who confessed that she
had learned to love sucking on a cock. She sat straddling
my legs, her head bouncing up and down in a furious, all out
oral assault. Lust was apparently giving romance a run
for its money.


The energy required from all that bobbing eventually took
its toll. She scooted up my body and nestled one very drenched
slit on my erection. With the object of her attention in
place, rocking back and forth, she began masturbating
herself on my swollen prick. I simply lay there, delighted
by her passion.


She humped me with frenzied pace for a minute or two; then
panting, rose to her knees, reached for my cock, and positioned
it at her opening. A twist and bend of its head had it cradled
in her hole. She sank her weight, her overly-lubricated
tunnel instantly consuming me.


Having a woman do the fucking instead of the other way around
was a new experience, delightfully so. Up and down she bounced,
riding my cock. Her sagging weight gave added thrust, pushing
me deep inside of her. Her muscles gripped me, squeezing
and releasing, while serenading me with a duet of lustful
pants and the salacious slurps and squishes her love canal
was making. Up and down she rode, fucking me to beat the band.



I pushed up to meet each of her down thrusts, thinking each
time I plumbed her depths that life could be no better. But
as men know—and women learn—being on top takes stamina,
a currency she had just about exhausted. Spent, she finally
stopped and fell forward onto my chest, her breathing labored;
my member still deeply embedded inside her.


Grabbing her ass cheeks, I pulled her forward, overbalancing
her. When I reversed her direction she fell back onto my
cock. It buried to the hilt. I repeated the move. It took
little effort and seemed to work very well. Back and forth
she rocked, once again riding my member—this time with
help from me. We had discovered an ingenious new way to fuck.
After a bit she said, “I’ve never done it this way before.”
Neither had I but I said nothing, fearing I’d spoil my
newly achieved “experienced lover” persona.


This went on a while before we shifted to missionary style–then
doggie style, and any other style we could think of. It made
no difference, we were here to fuck each other and argue
later about which of us enjoyed it most. My acquiescent
sex slave of the early evening had been supplanted by a sex-starved
no-holds-barred nymphomaniac. I’m sure one scenario
is probably better than the other, but I chose to forego
any such difficult decisions to another day–or year–or
century. All that counted now was the joy of the fuck.


I’m unsure of how long we spent using one another’s
bodies, but ultimately she won our battle of attrition—I
needed to cum. Women have that unfair advantage in this
area in that their number of orgasms is limited only by the
circumstance, where, men–at least those forty and over–are
limited to a finite number of climaxes. I was pretty sure
this would be my last for the evening.


Pulling her to her knees, I took her from behind for the evening’s
coup d grace. She willingly complied, bucking back to meet
my every thrust. I pushed into frenzied warp drive like
I had done earlier in the evening as we both raced toward
one last moaning, churning, and mutually cum-spewing
orgasm.


Our second exchange of body fluids was no less marvelous
than the previous one.


Exhausted, I lay down beside her, spent; consummated;
fulfilled. Finite! Never had I savored an after dinner
dessert more.


We made small talk for a while, but I finally told her I had
to be up early for the final day of the show. She proposed
that we meet again tomorrow night.


“Sorry, my return flight leaves in the afternoon.”



“Change it!” she demanded.


“I can’t.” Not only would the late change cost me
an arm and a leg, I dare not tell her that I was being picked
up at the airport by a lady friend. That sort of explanation
would ruin romantic AND erotic.


“OK, ” she pouted, petulant. “I’ll fuck someone
else tomorrow night!”


Wow, where had that one come from? Despite her emboldened
language and the lack of restraint she’d shown in giving
her body, I was pretty sure she hadn’t done this sort of
thing many times. This was rejection talking–or disappointment.
“If that’s what you want, suit yourself. It’s not
my place to say anything or pass judgment.”


“In that case I’ll see how many I can fuck!”


The cliché Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned came to
mind, but I was hardly scorning her. I fact, I would loved
to have shared her bed another evening, but this was, in
fact, a one night stand; how could she not realize that.



She’d calmed before I left and we parted on good terms,
all things considered. She showed up at the toy show the
next day, this time dressed in business attire. “I thought
I’d better not show up as Toy Slut again today, ” she
quipped.


I laughed, thinking back to how clever I’d thought myself
by seducing her. Magnificent persuasion on my part it was.
Sure, who else could possibly seduce a Toy Slut?


We departed the toy show together, her still boasting she’d
fuck someone that night. Although I was fairly sure the
threat was hollow, I was nonetheless disappointed at disappointing
her. I even gave thought to taking her to her truck to offer
some goodbye sex were she so inclined, but the parking lot
was way too crowded.


Instead, we bid our adieus and I headed for the airport and
the long flight home. I never saw Kim again, but our interlude
is forever etched in my memory. I occasionally contemplate
seeking her out, but know I never will. Real, toy, or metaphor;
that ship sailed the moment I refused to stay a second night.



Hope you enjoy my erotic fantasies. I welcome all comments, good or bad, and why.

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Member Responses Post Your Comment

Members can vote on this response!

I really enjoyed this story. Just an old fashioned tale
of two people havin fun with each other. Not a literary masterpiece,
but really close. Thanks a lot.

3/26/2015

Members can vote on this response!

I second the comments above! Love to hear more!

3/26/2015