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<<<<<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-oftown 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!
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From the collection of -=*<Rough Rider>*=-
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