textfiles/sex/EROTICA/O/orphan1.txt

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:- ORPHAN ANNIE STRIKES AGAIN! -:
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    Erik 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 Erik 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 Erik, 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 Erik, 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 Erik.  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 "Erik 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 quatre?) looked particularly lonely.  Sure, Erik
would have been great, but Erik was not here and Erik 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).  Erik--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 felt 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 Erik I and now Erik II.  There has to be something in that
name!
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