textfiles/sex/EROTICA/A/annie04.txt

                  <<<<<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!