Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

A day at the racesThe races were fun, the ride home even better!/I live in a small town somewhere South and East of Lexington, Ky.There is nothing small about Lexington and I end up there a lot. Perhapstoo much, but then work takes me there on a routine basis. I get a lotof overnights in Lexington. There are multiple theaters, fine places todine and a good selection of dance floors, bars and other hangouts. I’dlike to admit to a puritan life style and tell you I never frequent suchplaces. Of course, I’d be lying, so why bother?I got to all those places, some more than others. I enjoy the secretfeminine pleasure of allowing a man to buy my dinner, hold my chair,pour my drink and select my wine for the evening. Sometimes the men willget a reward. Sometimes they do not and that is completely up to me todecide. A man can spend $250 on a dinner date, a movie and a small giftif he chooses. He might get nothing while the guy who is charming, playshimself well and treats me to nothing more than a great grilled burgerat a little hamburger and fry place just off Main Street will get thescrew of his life.Go figure, but from my point, that’s why you guys keep asking us girlsout. You like the feeling of the chase, of sitting there wondering if wewill or if we won’t while you shell out and fall all over yourselfputting your best foot forward. I’ll tell you though, just be yourself –honesty is a wonderful attribute and will win me over quicker than a$500 trip to the race courses opening meet – which is where I spent thefirst Friday in April.the race course is the horse racing world’s Mecca. It is THE place to beon the first Friday in April. And being there can cost no more than the$12 to park and another $20 for a couple of beers and a dog on a bun.Or, it can cost some bucks. I’ve had race course dates drop $1,000, allwithout knowing if they were going to get into my pants or not.Actually, I should say without knowing if they were going to get undermy skirt or dress hem because grown up big girls don’t wear pants to theraces. No, it’s a skirt and heels, bare legs to the sun type of place.On this trip it was pushing 80 which means spaghetti straps, straplessbras and a dab of sun screen rubbed in well before arriving at the gate.The worst sun burn of my life came at the races, sex that night wasawful. Thank goodness I left before sunup because I felt like absoluteshit the next morning and screamed like a belt-slapped bitch when theshower hit the back of my shoulders the next morning!And the first Friday in April 2010 was a beautiful day. A day meant tobe enjoyed by kings and their queens. As well as by the minions of thoseamong the commoners who found their way to the races for the sport ofkings on that day.I went with a girl friend and her daughter and the date of the girlfriend. The daughter is one of my young mentors. At 21, she can wear alot of my clothes but won’t for long if she keeps eating and avoids thegym. She got her father’s genes and his family leans towards heavy whereher mother is one of those damn women who never exercises and looksgreat. Me, it’s the gym, the bicycle, the rowing machine and any othertorture device known to man to keep a hard, flat stomach and long legs.Shit, folks, let’s face it, when you wear an A-cup bra, you can’t afforda roll in the middle above the belt line!But the daughter came to my house the night before our trip and she wasdressed properly. She had brought a black bra and panties for the bigouting. I put those beneath a pale yellow sun dress which her motherwould never approve but hey, my house, my rules. A pair of three inchheels that she loves to borrow and her hair up in a tight twisted frenchbraid hanging down to her bra strap with a touch of lipstick and make upto add flavor. She’s a pretty young woman, not the little timid virginher mother believes but not an out right slut. So I dressed her to drawa little attention, just not a lot of it and besides, with me as achaperone, trust me, the looks could be turned on, or off.As for myself, I dragged out a dress I only wear when I don’t anticipatefinding a lot of people from our little home town. It shows a tremendousamount of leg, in fact, it will show the bottom hem of a pair of bikinipanties if I am not careful – or on purpose if I wish. The dress was apale blue and I wore midnight black underwear and a strapless bra underit. I could have gone without the bra, but not with my friend and herboy friend along. Hopelessly high heels pushed me towards 5’10” or soand enough lipstick to qualify me as a made up girl and we were off.That dress is cut low, but the only sight one gets is my bra, unless youhappen to catch me leaning forward and sitting down. You might, mightmind you, see a slope of a pale breast or the leading edge of my nipple.But it’s a big might and you better kaş escort work the angles really, really wellguys.The ride up to Lexington was fun, the younger girl and I had thebackseats of a Chevrolet full-size pick-up truck. Even the rear-wardopening doors didn’t keep us from putting on a show. Myself, well Iyanked that hem up, showed a flash of panty and climbed aboard and thenlaughed as my young backseat cohort tried to get in.Finally, I suggested that she either show her mom’s date what she waswearing beneath the dress or he could turn his head, take their pick,but I was ready to go. The man turned away and the young girl hopped in.Her mother had no problem getting into the front seat – pants are thatway. Darn pants anyway, as I hate them, but wear them a lot. It’s abusiness world you know? And, well, if you aren’t using the tools it’sbest to cover them up to keep the male minds somewhere close to thebusiness at hand.We had a great lunch and the younger lady did things for my own dress Ican only dream about. I mean, I looked at her with a bit more hungerthan I should, considering my mentoring role. But she really filled thatdress out. A dress that is cut for an A girl worn by a baby B with apush-up bra. Well, you guys and girls can figure it out. Darn, shelooked, well, great. I’ve heard that look described as “table grade”. Ihave heard it described in a lot of other ways, as well!Getting in and parked was a snap with my friend’s VIP parking pass.That’s one of the things that deters me from the track a lot. Parking israrely simply, today is was so easy as to make me wish for the goodlife. With no coolers or purses on wheels, we breezed through the entrygate and made our way to a nice boxed seat area. Not exactly the home ofhigh rollers, but a far cry from the cheap seats. Looking down and out,we could see the occupants of those seats. The view from above lookingdown on a bunch of those low cut dresses was, well, stunning.And the little slice of Kentucky we could see was equally pretty. Allgreen with touches of early spring flowers popping up in groups aroundthe grounds.The stands filled and the first two races left my young charge with afew dollars to blow so I went with her down to the $2 window. As westood in line, I noticed a man in a beautiful brown suit with awonderful fedora hat watching us. I looked away, then back. Then Iblushed. Yep, I actually blushed because a woman standing in the $2 linewith a 20-year-old charge has no business casting eyes on a man in the$50 betting line. That would have been my entire stake for the day, $50bucks. And he was fixing to blow it on one race. Hopefully, he knowsmore about horses than I do.We both made our wagers and returned in time for the start of the thirdrace, I lost again and yet another ticket found its way to the pittedconcrete pavement beneath my heels. I could feel the wind tugging at myhat by this point and I secured it with a chin strap. Don’t ask me toexplain, guys, but I also know that a chin strap can be positionedbehind the ears – aren’t ears the handiest thing you’ve ever seen? Makegood ankle rests, or so I’m told!After the fifth race I excused myself from the group and went to thebar. Although my young friend could go legally, I don’t teach thatlittle experience in life. Somethings, a woman growing up just has tolearn on her own. Oh, rescue her if she plays the game and loses, youbet. But this chick wasn’t drinking on my watch. Her mother and dateweren’t either, so that meant Paula got a drink at the bar. Alone.Well, I thought alone. As the barkeep pushed the glass towards me andsaid $5, the man in the suit and hat slipped in just in time to make anoffer no lady refuses. “May I,” was all he said, with a smile and thesimple passing of a $10 to the bartender. The man with the mop browstarted to make change, but the hat man simply smiled and waved him off.“Do you mind if I join you, lady?” he asked. A nod and he took the stooladjacent to mine. Now, the dress I had on wasn’t meant for clubbing, notexactly at any rate. There was a slit up each leg that stopped aboutfive or six inches below my hip bone. Had I worn anything other thanhigh-cut bikini panties, they would have shown. As it was, I had an inchof wiggle room and midnight blue would be peeping out around the edges.We talked for a few moments and the sixth race kicked off on the screenover the bar. I was swallowing a sip of alcohol when I felt the man’shand on my bare thigh. He had not the least hesitation as he rolled hisfinger tips to the inside of my thigh and then upwards to where thedress slit stopped his advance. Right there, with me and a glass in myhand, he pinched the absolute shit out of me. I found the bruise thenext day. Right then, I just did good to swallow without choking andkeep my pissed off attitude from showing.“I kaş escort bayan was wondering from my seat if you were actually wearing underwear,”the man said, the question in this tone. “Now that you lost that extrainch of hem, I can tell that you.”I looked down and realized that his pinch had caused a jerk on my part.The jerk had ripped the slit of the dress on up till the spaghetti thinstrap of panty crossing my hip bone was clearly visible.The man stood, smiled again and excused himself from my company. But inleaving, he motioned to the bartender, laid another $10 on the bar andtold the man I would need another drink. I looked down and realized Ihad slopped half my drink across the bar.Shit, damn, I hate it when I make an ass of myself. I honestly hate it.I watched the remainder of the races through the ninth from my chair inthe box. Laughing, talking with my friends and all the time stealingglances at hat man in the box across the isle. Tearing a page from theprogram, I found a pen in my friend’s purse and wrote a simple note.My cell number, along with the words, “I need a ride.”Leaving the box, I eased across the isle, grabbed the hand rail on hisside and, as he turned, I casually passed my hand over his suit jacketpocket. Please, God, let it be a real pocket and not a fake was all Icould think. The note slid down into the cloth and I smiled as I went onup the steps.The 12 th race came, and went and we exited the grandstands and wereidling along the sidewalk talking about dinner plans. On a gamble and ina slightly loud voice, I made the comment that I really wanted to gostraight on home. My friend’s date obviously had plans, he was not goingto waste an evening out with his lover and her daughter. There are majorpoints to be gained there, guys.Suddenly from nowhere, a voice broke into our conversation, “You askedabout a ride, lady? I have a car and driver, perhaps I could drop yousomewhere?” It was hat man, just off my shoulder and slightly to therear. Little did he realize that I needed a ride 90 miles south.“I do, but I don’t know that you would want to go to London tonight,” Iresponded, trying not to let the desire drip off my voice. I’m sure myfriend caught it, but only a grown woman would as the comment went rightover her daughter’s head.“ Not a problem,” he said. “ I have no use for my driver after he dropsme and London is just south of his home in Richmond,” responded the hat man.I made my excuses to my girl friend, thanked her date for the wonderfulafternoon and accepted the man’s offered arm as we parted company.“I really do live in London,” I told him.“And I truthfully couldn’t care less,” said the man. “By the way, how’syour thigh where I pinched you?”I said nothing but his grip on my arm tightened slightly and his voicedropped to a more husky tone but not a bit in volume. As we walked pasta group of women walking alone, he turned to me and said, “Have you everfucked in a limo?”I blushed, and asked if I was going to. He responded that only if I waswilling. And able.His car was waiting in the corner where drivers wait for the boss. Itwas a long, four-door stretch Hummer2 with super high tires and a mudrail on the side.The driver opened the door and then put his knee out with his hands toguide my foot onto the safe surface. As I stepped up, and then turned toenter the vehicle, I gave the world a show of my panty crotch.The man stepped up and in effortlessly, obviously accustomed to the highstep of the Hummer.. “For tonight, you may call me Keith. That is not myname, nor is this my car although the driver is my man to put it simply.Do you want to get out, or go to London?”I looked at him, then at the driver’s face waiting below the open door.“I’ll go to London, Keith,” I said.With that, the driver slammed the door shut and Keith stepped into asunken well between the seats. With ease he removed his suit jacket,shirt and tie tack, then slipped out of his shoes and pants. He was notwearing underwear and, as his trousers came below his knees, I saw ahard cock of at least 7 inches, but unbelievably thick.Keith smiled at me, laid his clothes aside and said, “Now, are you sureyou want to go to London in this vehicle, if the answer is yes, you’regoing to take me however I choose,”I wet my lips, my eyes locked on his cock. “Yes, but, I don’t know …”my response trailed off.The man took my hand and drew it to his semi-hard penis. “You will takeme everywhere, are you a virgin anywhere?” he asked.“No.” The one word answer was out before I could stop it.With that, he reached up and slipped my straps from my shoulders as thecar moved out. I lifted my hips and allowed the material to puddlebeneath my ass before he yanked the dress down and over my heels.“Flat chested, I might have know,” he intoned as he gave the straplessbra a gentle yank, then escort kaş a much harder pull which popped the catch behindme. He reached down and caught the waist of my panties between hisfingers at each hip and they left my body as well.By now we were moving through the outskirts of Lexington, KY, stoppingat lights and surging ahead to make turns. Keith reached over anddropped the windows on all four doors beside us. Then, taking my legs hepulled them forward and up above his shoulders. His cock bobbed at theentrance to my cunt.Even though I was wet, and had been for ages, it took a half-dozenlunges before he buried his girth in my pussy. It was so damned thick,it hurt. He saw the look on my face but did not stop lunging into me.Looking down, I could see the angry red lips of my pussy surging aroundhis cock and, to my surprise, noticed the condom he had managed to puton without my knowledge.The man was a demon, at a stop light, he plowed me so hard that Igrunted, then screamed as his last unbelievably thick inch was stuffedinside me abused pussy.He finally backed off and allowed his cock to slip out, I noticed theaccumulation of semen captured in the tip of the condom. Reaching down,I unrolled the rubber from his cock, fighting to get it off over thehead of his still hard member.As we merged onto the interstate, Keith climbed into the seat and pushedhis cock head at my lips. I opened and within seconds was swallowing hislength. But my mouth had never been stretched to this point before. Iknow he felt the sc**** of my teeth several times in the five minutesthat he throat fucked me. I also realized that people in the other lanescould see what was happening.Finally, with his cock at an even bigger state of erection, he pulledhimself out and pushed my face towards the car window. I gripped thedoor edge as I felt him fumble in the console in front of us. Lookingback, I watched as he rolled another condom down his horribly thick dickand realized he he intended.Keith spit into his hands, then parted my cheeks and pushed a singlefinger into my rectum. Without any lube, the finger felt like a normalman’s cock. He extracted that digit and positioned the head of his cockat my little anal rosebud.The drive lunged the vehicle over into the passing lane at that pointand, without any warning, the first two inches of dick plunged into myasshole. I screamed. Then I screamed again, the sound carried awayinstantly by the slip stream of wind rushing past the car.It was then that I looked up and saw my friend, her dinner date anddaughter going by our vehicle on the inside lane. I smiled, caught hereye and waved. With the wind whipping my hair, the unfamiliar vehicleand all, I can only pray she only saw what she thought she saw, not waswas there, displayed in front of God and everyone.I was laying on the window sill at that point, my small breasts not evenlarge enough to dangle in that classic doggie position. A man’s cock wastrying to penetrate the depth of my ass. And it simply wasn’t going anyfarther.Looking back, with tears running down my face, I begged him to pull out.He did and I reached down and stripped the condom off his cock. “Now, inmy pussy, please, get it wet before you fuck my ass,” was all I couldthink to say.Keith plunged that incredibly thick sausage back into my soaked, butthankfully well-stretched cunt. He plowed me for another five minutesbefore pulling out. This time, I reached back and parted my own cheeks,my face buried in the driver’s headrest.I let out a single scream as the huge, thick penis slid all the way homein my rectum.For 10 minutes that man fucked my ass. He reached up and grappled mytits for only a moment before yanking his hands back to my hips, callingme a “flat bitch” as he continued to butt fuck me.I don’t know how long that motion went on. But we were passing Mt.Vernon, KY when he finally fell back into the seat behind him and gaveme the order to screw him myself.I lifted and plunged, my own hands milking and twisting my small breastsas I tried to get him off. Several minutes later, he pulled me down andheld me at the base of his dick and I felt the hot, sticky crawl of hiscum draining into my bowels.Keith held me that way for another 10 miles before finally pushing meforward onto my own seat. I found my panties, slipped them back on, thenthe ripped dress. As I dressed, I felt his semen leaking from my ravagedass hole.I leaned forward, took his cock in my hands and kissed my one-time loverdeeply on the mouth. “Thank you,” was all I said.There were no more words as we pulled into the first restaurant at thevery first London exit. I left without help, the man sitting there andstaring at me. As I started to close the door, he took a slip of paper,the one I had written my note on, and handed it to me.I was inside and they were gone before I looked at the other side of thepaper. Below my note, he had written, “I knew you would be great, callme, sometime,” and a phone number. I punched the number into my cellphone before I called a friend for a ride.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32