Serendipity? Happenstance? Coincidence? - a study in destiny

A Little Bit of History

I've decided I need to do a little more exploring of London, see a little more of the sites. Today is the day I've allocated to go to the British Museum. I wake up early, showering and dressing in comfy jeans and a t shirt. Packing a lunch and putting it all in my backpack.

I make sure to include my camera as I know there are going to be many objects I'll want to take photos of. The teacher in me is already thinking about how I can send the photos back to my old class so they can experience the amazing things I anticipate seeing too. For a moment I have a flashback to the guy who took my photo when I was last out in London. He had a great smile and I remember wishing I could have talked to him more. Funny the things you remember.

I get on the tube, feeling like an old pro at doing so. Making my way to Russell Square and walking back to the British Museum. I get there just as its opening, which was my plan, knowing I now have 7.5 hours to explore it. I pick up a map and begin to walk around the ground floor, exploring the different areas of the world through the displays. I take photos of areas of interest, reading wall displays and interactive computer screens to find out more about the areas I'm most fascinated with.

The day goes by fast and my stomach soon tells me its lunchtime. I decide to make the most of the picnic area the Museum provides and eat there. I watch the families having picnics, smiling at the antics of the children. In moments like this I have mixed emotions. I'm really happy to be in London, in England exploring something new. But I also miss having a class. I decide in that moment that perhaps I'll find out about being a relieving teacher. Maybe there could be a full time position.

Having finished lunch I carry on exploring the next two floor. Its becoming more obvious I won't manage to see it all today but the Museum isn't going anywhere and neither am I. I can come another day. I leave the Museum feeling happy to have explored somewhere new and make my way back out to London. Heading home is always adventure, with new things to see and experience. Tonight its my turn to cook then I think we're all going to watch a movie. I'm loving London but I seriously need to do something about that itch that more and more needs scratching.

Hesitant to leave, excited to go.

It's always hard to leave places like Brazil, as far as my tastes go, when I know I'm heading to a less exotic (read as English-speaking) country. Granted, South Africa is only about 29% English-speaking, but that still gives me almost 14 million people to talk to without practicing my Portuguese, you know?

My flight leaves tonight.

-- -- -- --

Brutal flight, back-tracking against time to arrive "the day after tomorrow" by a couple of hours. Anyway, I need sleep. Hope the cabbie is one of those 14 million, because my Portuguese won't help me now.

-- -- -- --

Goddamn do I love waking up in a new country. Sure, that whole thing with the airport and the cab . . . that was already this country . . . but it's so blurry, that it's like I flew through the night, into the night, slept later that night, and now somehow I'm feeling great, feeling rested, and waking up to South Africa. Genius.

After catching a shower, I've got a really strong desire for the kind of breakfast that only happens here: the eggs were hatched on the property, the bread was baked here this morning, the tomatoes were grown out back, and the Boerewors (local sausage) are spiced according to the recipe of the little hotel owner's family. Are you salivating yet? I'll have seconds, just for you. Promise.

-- -- -- --

After a lazy morning of doing the write-ups on the Brazilian photos and sending some quick proofs to a few leads, it's time to head out to catch the busses to Darling, then onto the ones that we'll be riding around in for the Voorkamerfest. Should be cool to see what people's living rooms bring . . . feels like each front door will be the wrapping paper to an experiential present.

On the bus, there's some lively discussion, all facilitated by the people who created the festival. This is only their 5th year, but they've got a nice rhythm going, with shows in the homes and the occasional show along the road.


It's clear that the talent, some of it local, and some of it from Cape Town, Johannesburg, or even international sources, has been selected by some very artistic people. I'm being polite saying that, and I'm being sarcastic a bit too, but mostly I'm being dead serious. There was the occasional shi-shi act that was hard to sit through, sure, but most of them were mind-blowing. Like the two pictured above . . . just stellar.

-- -- -- --

It's getting late, and the bus is dumping us back in the central plaza in Johannesburg. I've only got one day left here before it's back on the plane, swinging through London for 48 hours (hoping to find something shot-worthy) before I land in Jersey one week older, and hopefully with 3 hits on my hands. Missed jobs really piss me off, after all. Now, to bed.

--

Time for a Change

I love Starbucks, love icy frappuccinos on a hot Summers day. But now its more wintery than summery and I'm making less and less of them. Now its special teas or flavoured hot chocolates and I've had enough. This job has lost its sparkley newness and I miss having a class of kids to teach.

So I've taken action.

I've signed up with a relieving agency where I can get a long term teaching placement. Which will be just like having my own class but with better pay and if I don't feel like working tomorrow or for the whole of next week I won't be fired. And the best part is I get to use some of my hard earned savings to go shopping for clothes more suited to a teacher.

So here I am with my colleagues on a Friday night, sitting at a bar drinking Snickers bar flavoured shots. Its my farewell, a send off, really just an excuse for us to get dressed up and go to a bar to drink. I laugh with my friends and sip the drinks they buy me, sitting on a stool at the bar and watching as they do impersonations of our favourite customers or tell stories of hilarious things that have happened while I've been working there.

I lean back against the bar, making my breasts push forward in the halter neck of the black dress I'm wearing. My hair falls loosely around my shoulders and sways as I laugh or lean this way and that to hear different parts of the conversation. One leg is crossed over the other, my foot bouncing in time to the music, my skirt riding up past my knees towards my thighs now and then so I have to push it down to keep myself from flashing those cherry covered knickers courtesy of Ann Summers.

I'm enjoying my send off, the time spent with my friends as I make promises to visit often after cajoling out promises of staff discounts on the drinks I've become more and more addicted (in a healthy way of course) to.

Just realized . . .

I'm feeling old today. Not my body, that's fine - I take care of that. It's my mindset. I just realized that I no longer board every plane with a pre-whetted appetite that's looking for a hook-up - looking for a membership in the Club.

Every plane used to get me sizzling. Randy as all hell, I'd make sure I boarded almost last so that as I walked down the aisle I could make eye contact with anyone who looked interesting / interested. It wasn't like a porn movie where you know there's a mid-flight fuck coming . . . that would have been boring, having that knowing. It was far more exciting than that . . . only the possibility of a mid-flight fuck was lingering in the air, and you had to wonder (like the laundromat) if any of the other passengers got off on the same idea . . . and would I find that person? . . . and would we be able to make it happen?

They say there's 3 levels to the Mile High Club, just in case hadn't heard this somewhere. Level 1 is when you have sex with the person you boarded the flight with. Level 2 is when you have sex with a total stranger on board. Level 3 is when you bang a staff member. I've never met anyone who pulled off a Level 2 or Level 3 membership initiation, but let me know if you have.

You know, I'm already feeling younger just talking about all this . . . it's bringing back the fire, just imagining the 3 levels, and whether a Level 2 is possible for me. Hell, I fly enough . . . which is what took the fantasy away, originally, because it just wasn't happening. But is that because I stopped looking?

Well, I've got 2 flights in the next 3 days, and they are loooooooooong ones, and they're both over-nighters (always felt my odds were higher if we could start a conversation at night that led to something before people started waking up, right?) We shall indeed see . . .

--

Flight to London

Did I mention that I already got some bidding back for the Brazil shots? Without my trying, they started bidding against each other, and I got more than I originally asked . . . gotta love it. That's why I'm taking this flight on Virgin from Johannesburg to London . . ever been on a Virgin flight?


That's flying . . . cool lighting, order whatever food you want, pick a movie to watch on your own screen, comfy seats . . . and it's only $420 round trip to London from here, so it was even cheaper one way. OK, so the photo of the bar is from Upper Class, but it's still a great flight for the rest of us too . . . love it.

We're taking off now . . . it's about 9pm, and we'll drop down into Heathrow at around 7 tomorrow morning.

As for my "scoping the aisles" getting on board tonight, things are pretty interesting. It really always starts in the waiting area . . . I mean, you never know if you're going to get a seat next to a hottie, so if you can start the conversation while you're waiting, then all the easier to connect again later. Lots of international flavors here . . . lots of beauty in many forms. I had a really light, pre-boarding, small-talky conversation with a woman from Belgium for a bit, but it seemed to fizzle pretty quickly . . . probably not her, even though she's only 3 rows behind me.

The one I would really want to bump into in the aisles at some point is the Australian? New Zealander? Can never tell them apart by accent, but she was talking to a guy in a suit who looked like a co-worker, and that accent combined with her incredible body and face have me completely smitten (or at least "plane-smitten" since it's not like you want to have a life-long relationship with the person . . . yet . . . . )

Still Enjoying the Night

I'm still at the bar.. well, actually I'm at a third bar. My work colleagues decided the first one was getting boring and there was another I just had to see. Only thing is, when we got to that bar it turned out to be boring as hell. But we managed to find a friend of a work colleague who had heard from their friend that this third bar was happening tonight. So here we are.

I grin as we order another round of shots, this one is called a Quick Fuck which I have to admit to loving the sound of. Hell, I'd settle for a Quick Snog.. though if I'm really honest Id like A Weekend of Fucking. I shake my head at the thoughts I'm having and decide I should really cut back on the alcohol. I've got a slight buzz going, I can still walk straight and I'm still having fun. But the more I drink, the lower my inhibitions get. So I start to say the things I might not usually say and maybe do things I might usually take more convincing to do.

And if I'm going to be really honest - and lets face it, with my inhibitions lowered I probably am - I'm horny. Its been longer than I'd care to admit since I've had something beside that Thruster inside me. Forever since fingers, a tongue or even a cock slid through my wetness to give me the orgasm I'm dying for.

God.. I really should stop drinking or I'm going to end up shagging the first guy who looks at me even remotely flirtatiously. But then, what would the harm in that be? Whats to stop me from seeing a hot guy from across the bar. Giving him a smile or some kind of sign I'm interested. What if I really let my inhibitions go and fucked him in the restrooms, banging against the side of the stall. I smile at the thought, trying to ignore the shiver that makes my nipples harden and leaves heat pooled between my thighs. But it continues and I'm left sitting on the bar stool with damp panties and an ache that can only be filled by well, being filled.

Do I dare take advantage of my frisky mood? Of the lack of inhibitions? Should I fuck the first guy who is interested or the first I find interesting. Dragging him into the restroom to fuck him til I'm crying out with pleasure. An act of meaningless sex with a complete stranger who's name I don't even know. I blush as I look around me and wonder if anyone can tell what I'm thinking. If my body is betraying my thoughts. My gaze sweeps over the bar once more as I wonder if there is anyone that sparks my interest. Anyone I could fuck tonight, hell its Friday.. why not fuck him all weekend long?

Friday

It's shortlly after 1am on Thursday, so make that Friday. The overnight flight is a few hours into its hum, so we're sufficiently entertained, we're somewhat fed, and if we're "me," then we're horny and pleasantly tipsy. Most of them are sleeping.

Which begs the questions . . . is she? . . . could we? . . . is Level 2 possible? . . . am I drunker than I think?

I really only want the answer to the first 3. The answer to the 4th is hidden in the proof that I've just undone my seatbelt in order to "walk to the front of the plane to stretch out, and walk to the back of the plane to use the wash room." This is what we might call re-con. Making a visual ID. That sort of thing.

It also happens to be the reason I've never joined The Club. I'm "all re-con and no re-con-nection." I always go back to my seat, and plot the next move. That lasts for a couple hours before I either doze off, or stroke my cock and fantasize about taking that move until I cum and then doze off. Neither of which qualifies me for a membership.

The moment I'm realizing all this is the same moment that I've spotted her. Near the back, iPod playing something with a beat (according to her mini-head-bang). As I get closer, I see that her male friend is gape-mouthed pillow-breathing against the window . . . might even be drooling.

It's at this point my head begins to write & re-write all the things I could say to her. There's a lot of approaches, you know. The Direct, The Mysterious, The Humorous (a tough one, preferably something about the guy she's with), The Detective, The Informational, The Non-Chalant, The Pollster . . . wait . . you might need examples. In her case, they would be something like:

Direct - Can I buy you a drink and then taste you in the wash room?
Mysterious - Have you ever been in the coastal town of Marbella in southern Spain?
Humorous - He keeps drooling like that, you'll have to wring out your socks.
Detective - I saw you in the waiting area, and was going to talk to you, but then I realized you're probably already married or engaged with being as hot as you are.
Informational - I just heard that they've got a few of those dark chocolate & almond squares left, first-come first-served.
Non-Chalant - Did you hear when they announced our landing time?
Pollster - God, don't you love flying? I guess some people hate it, actually. You?

None of these work, by the way, no matter how much time you put into writing them. You will always sound like an ass no matter which approach you take.

That's why factual, clear communication is the only way to go, and there's no name for it, it's just what you do when you do it, then it's done.

So I just say what's truly on my silly, addled mind: "I'm trying to figure out if your accent, which is very sexy by the way <--(that part was the alcohol talking, I'm sure of it . . . by her facial expression, she's sure of it too . . . fuck . . . ) is Australian or Kiwi?"

"Australian. Why do you ask?"

"I suppose Aussie was the odds on favorite, what with New Zealand having all of . . . what . . . 400,000 people?," I reply, having missed her question somewhere in my racing, blood-starved mind.

"Something like that."

Then I see her ring.

I'm sorry, WHAT?!! HER RING?!!

WHAT THE FUCK?! Am I completely losing touch?! How could I not have SEEN that already? Jesus!! What am I doing even talking to this woman?! ---<<OK, wait>> --- calm down, breathe, continue the conversation . . . downshift into small talk . . . well, if you're not in 1st gear already with this bombed job you're pulling ---<<SHUT UP and talk to her>>---

"Yeah. Well, I did have to use the loo, but for future reference, is there something I can listen for to help me distinguish those 2 accents?"

"Sure there is," she says, "Just listen for a sense of rambunctiousness. That's an Aussie every time."

"Makes sense. Try to stay out of trouble then, and thanks."

She nods with a smile as I walk the short few rows to the bathroom. I don't actually have to go, so I'll just look at myself in the mirror and talk some shit to myself about looking for rings. After I saw that the guy she was with was giving off the "co-worker vibe," I just started day-dreaming. Jackass.

Once I'm back to my seat, I start thinking and re-thinking that conversation with only one problem . . . her being out of reach adds the forbidden-fruit-attraction-factor to how hot she already is . . . that dirty side of things that knows better.

Damnit . . . now I'm all turned on . . . this would have been so much better in the bathroom. Less clean-up . . . but I can't stop myself from stroking. Just hoping the neighbors are deep sleepers, and doing my best to isolate the movement . . . I'm immediately fully hard and my last thought before committing to completing this is, "I hope the wet spot dries by morning." I am pumping underneath the blanket, flexing my hip muscles with each thrust to increase the build-up of that tension . . . imagining she and I in that bathroom, or the restroom in the airport, or any restroom in the world for all I care. She's riding on top of me as I'm helping to lift from underneath her ass. That image alone gives me the feelings of beginning to boil over. Now we're pumping faster and she can't stop from making little sounds that give me that "getting caught" feeling . . . and there's a dinging sound as the pilot turns on the fasten seatbelt sign, and the announcement comes on that the plane is preparing for arrival so if you would please return . . . I'm cumming inside her . . . inside he- . . my pants . . . opening my eyes and realizing that I'm cumming inside my pants, the people next to me are awake, it's light out, and the woman making sounds is the attendant asking me to wake up and return my seat to its upright position.

Half-groggy and fully-soiled I'm beginning to realize the whole thing was a dream. When had I drifted off? Anyway, we're landing and I can tell my boxers are soaked, and now I'm left to wonder if it's wet through to my pants yet. God, I'm an ass. I can't even fuck a woman in my wet dreams any more? I even masturbate when I don't have to?! Pathetic.

As we land in Heathrow, my only thought is how I'm getting out of here. When I stand to get my carry-on, I check my seat and see a small, darker area on it. Wet through. I quickly unzip my hoodie and tie the sleeves around my waist. My only hope is that there's nothing left to drip down my leg, and that hope turns out to be valid.

I make a clean escape.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Did I mention I love waking up in hotel beds?

Even though I landed this morning, I just dragged my ass to my hotel here and napped. Plane sleep is never good sleep, no matter how wet. Or deep.
But it's amazing how quickly things can turn around!

Waking up at 2pm gives me an awesome feeling of power. It's Friday! Most people try to leave work early at 2, and they feel great about it. I am just getting up! Goddam, I love my life!

Quick shower, throw on some clothes, grab my camera, and head out to get some really beautiful . . . food. Then I'll find something interesting to shoot.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

My kind of day.

Wake up late, eat, shoot, relax into dinner time, and then go out. Can you imagine a better life? OK, OK, I just realized that it's times like these when I actually buy into my friends' image of my life. Huh . . . maybe they're right? Well, there is a certain amount of bullshit to deal with, but right now I'm feeling good about how well I deal with it, and I'm ready to play on a global scale. These last 3 countries have treated me well.

As I hail down the cab, I wish that I had waited long enough to realize that I have to go to the bathroom. Now I'll have to hold it until I get to the bar. Alright, fine.

After a near-eternal ride, I arrive at the bar, cruise inside past some ladies at the counter, and head immediately to the bathroom for relief.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh . . . . . . .

--

I see him enter the bar and feel a sense of de ja vu. Like I've seen him before. Hes obviously in a hurry and I smile to myself as I see him head into the back in the direction of the bathroom. But who is he? Is he a customer that's come in regularly? No, I don't think that's it. One of my new work colleagues at the school I'm going to start at? No, that isn't it either.

Then it hits me and I can't help but grin. I've always been able to remember faces and names and his was particularly memorable. He is the guy that took my photo when I was at the Red Bull Air show. I always wondered what he did with it and I guess I'm going to get the opportunity to find out.

Without realising it I've slid off my bar stool and I'm heading towards the back where I know he is. I don't give myself too long to think about it, simply letting my tipsy brain make the decisions I might normally think through. I figure hes in the bathroom as my gaze scans the bar and I can't seem him else where. The horny part of me wants to make my way into the bathroom and push him into a stall to reenact the fantasy I've created. But I decide to be a little less direct.

Instead I move to the small hallway that the three bathrooms (disabled, mens, womens) are off. I lick my lips as I anticipate this meaning and leaning against the wall directly opposite the door to the mens room. He'll walk out and I'll be the first thing he'll see. I'm not totally sure what my next move will be. Perhaps I'll just take his hand and lead him to the disabled toilet. Maybe I should rethink my strategy altogether?

But the door opens and I look to it expectantly, wondering if its him about to walk out..

The Sea Level Club will have to do . . .

Coming out of the bathroom, I see a woman standing expectantly, so I hold the door open and ask, "Was the ladies' all full? If you want, I'll guard the door while you . . . uh . . . " holy fucking shit, I think. " . . . holy fucking shit . . . it's you, isn't it?" That body . . . it's just got to be . . . but her hair is straight, and without those sunglasses . . . oh shin, her smile is a dead give-away . . . GORGEOUS. Oh my god, it's HER.

"Holy shit! I've been thinking about you, you know." probably not smart to tell her how much . . . or how much my heart is speeding up seeing that body there in front of me.

--

I grin as I see you come out, starting to speak to me about looking after the door while I use the mens room. I feel a moment's disappointment as I realise you haven't remembered who I am. But then I watch you remember who I am, grinning as you speak.

"Holy shit! I've been thinking about you, you know." I take your hand and lead you back into the main part of the bar "Come and tell me all about it over a drink." I move back to my bar stool, motioning to the free one beside mine as I motion for the bartender to get us a drink each.

Bar stool

As you drag me behind you, I'm feeling dumbfounded and alive. how many people live in this town?! and she was standing outside a bar restroom?!

I've waited for an opportunity exactly like this - the chance to meet one of my "photo girls" again - and I can't for the life of me remember what it was I thought I was going to say.

Who cares . . . we sit down, and the bartender brings over my beer.

"Where do I begin," I say. The look on your face is fantastic. Wide open. Ready for anything. With a hint of mischief.

"OK, I know where to begin . . . I've got to ask a ridiculous question. Australian or Kiwi, and how the fuck do you tell the difference?"

--

Australian or Kiwi?

"OK, I know where to begin . . . I've got to ask a ridiculous question. Australian or Kiwi, and how the fuck do you tell the difference?" I laugh as I sip my Cosmopolitan and turn round a little more on the stool to look at you better. "I'm 100% Kiwi. Unless you count the fact my parents are from the UK." I say with a wink.

"I'm not sure how to tell, I just know there is a difference. When they say six.." I hold up six fingers so the distinction is clear ".. it sounds like they're say sex.." I blush as I wonder what action to do then grind against the bar a little "But besides that I don't know what to tell you."

I lean in a little, fully aware that in doing so I'm giving you a glimpse of my cleavage "Your turn to answer a question. Where'd my photo end up? I had visions of my face photo shopped onto a porn stars body.." I admit with a shrug as I sip my drink and wait for your reply..

Photographic evidence

"Your turn to answer a question. Where'd my photo end up? I had visions of my face photo shopped onto a porn stars body.."

"Nah . . . that's for people who need photoshop to have a porn star's body." Can I admit to feeling ridiculous for saying that? I mean, I said it once in my head real quick before saying it out loud, and it sounded horrible, I just couldn't pass it up.

Before you have a chance to do anything more than arch an eyebrow, I quickly move on, "I'm sorry to say that your photo only got looked at by me . . . a lot, if that helps." If she keeps it up with this cleavage, I'm going to have to . . . lick something . . . soon

"I do know how to use photoshop, if you want to play a prank on a friend or ex-boyfriend . . . you do have EX-boyfriends, don't you?"

--

Definitely Single

"I do know how to use photoshop, if you want to play a prank on a friend or ex-boyfriend . . . you do have EX-boyfriends, don't you?" I smile, I can't help it, you're so funny "Are you asking if I'm a virgin? Or if I'm single? Because I'm not a virgin but I'm definitely single."

I play with the straw in my drink, my tongue rolling around it as it rests on my lips. I know I'm being a flirt but I'm horny and I can't help it. "So have you ever taken more x-rated photos? You know.. when you and a girl were getting hot and heavy?"

Not a virgin?! (thank god)

"Are you asking if I'm a virgin? Or if I'm single? Because I'm not a virgin but I'm definitely single."

Hrrmm . . . So that means you know what you're doing, and you're looking for someone to do it to. That gives me ideas . . .

"So have you ever taken more x-rated photos? You know.. when you and a girl were getting hot and heavy?"

"I've been hired on a couple of shoots that were very sexy, but that was earlier on before I specialized in travel features. As for the shoots that I wasn't hired for . . . " -- unsure how much to reveal . . . ah, reveal it all, what the hell -- " . . . there have been a few really nice ones, some of which required the timer on the camera, or the remote shutter, so I could get in the shot. A few of them were with strangers, but I guess most were after someone and I were getting 'hot and heavy' as you say. Why? Have you been looking for a good photographer? Or do you just like to look at pictures of naked women?"

Either way, I'm alright with that.

--

A Momento

"Have you been looking for a good photographer? Or do you just like to look at pictures of naked women?" I blush a little, old habits die hard I suppose. Downing the rest of my drink I lean in and whisper "No, I've just always wanted to take a photo of my lips wrapped around a hot guys cock. Blow jobs are a particular favourite of mine and I've always wanted a momento."

I slowly run the tip of my tongue over my upper lip, revealing my piercing as I feel that familiar tingle between my thighs. Its the tingle I get when I'm flirting with a good looking man, someone I'm attracted to. I know I'm getting wet, that my panties are damper than they were earlier in the evening. I could straddle his lap and fuck him here and now.

It's official . . . we've got a cock-slut on our hands.

"No, I've just always wanted to take a photo of my lips wrapped around a hot guys cock. Blow jobs are a particular favourite of mine and I've always wanted a momento."

She flashes her piercing at me, and my cock immediately pulses to twice its size. That's going to feel incredible.

"You know, I don't have that shot in my collection anywhere. Not sure how I've overlooked that until now. "

I lean forward, sliding my face up next to hers, my hands going to the tops of her thighs and gripping firmly as I whisper directly in her ear.

"Since I take my camera everywhere I go, and you've got your lips right here and ready, there's really only one decision to make . . . "

You've taken this so far already, so surely this can't be taking it too far . . .

" . . . table in the corner, bathroom stall, or the alley behind the bar."

At least I gave her a few options with privacy.

--

A Fourth Option..

" . . . table in the corner, bathroom stall, or the alley behind the bar." I turn my head the few inches or so needed to run the tip of my tongue around the curves of your ear. I trace the contours before finally whispering "But there is a fourth option you've neglected to mention. Here and now.."

I lean back so I can see the look on your face as I slide my hand almost casually up your thigh. I carry on looking you in the eye as my hand finds the hard bulge I was hoping to find and a moan of satisfaction escapes my lips "Hmm.. but if I'm really honest.. I don't care where. I just want it in my mouth."

I slide my palm over the bulge in your pants, feeling it throb and pulse and wishing I could feel that motion in my mouth, on my tongue. I undo the zipper of your pants and slide my fingertips inside to stroke your cock.

Options

"But there is a fourth option you've neglected to mention. Here and now.."

Goddamn, you're hot! And that ear shit gets me every time.

Through little moans I eke out, "I was just -un- trying to have some respect for your friends -uhnn- but I don't see why we can't just try out all 4 options and see which one is our favorite . . . . . you don't suppose the bartender will mind watching someone as hot as you suck some cock, do you?"

My hand has begun pushing at the hem of your dress, needing to feel your cunt, to know that you're wet, to expose more of your skin, to touch you.

"I've got to be inside you . . . no matter what."

I start kissing and biting along your neck line.

--

Can You Handle It?

"I've got to be inside you . . . no matter what." I thought you'd never offer. I need you inside my mouth, in my cunt, in my hand. I just need you naked and there, ready for me to explore. I part my legs by hooking my feet around the legs of the barstool, letting you have free access to me.

"I dont live far from here. We could spend the weekend in bed? Get a hotel room somewhere and fuck like rabbits.." I suggest, knowing I want more than a quick blowjob in the back alley. You're about to have months of sexual tension unleashed on you, can you handle it?

Now.

You offer me a weekend in bed somewhere, anywhere . . .

In one move, my free hand is gripping the hair at the back of your neck and my other has finished its push between your parted legs to find your wet center, and my teasing strokes there slide on your panties.

With your hand on my cock, I can't wait that long. Moving back up to your ear I let you know, "Your house wasn't one of the options."

Thinking to myself that I'd probably be OK with the cab on the way to your house, I start thinking of ways to have you sooner . . . like NOW.

--

I slide off the stool and stand, trapping your hand against the wetness of my thighs. My hand in your boxers clenches around your cock as I whisper "The corner table is full.." I say as I glance over at it. "Who knows what I'd kneel in outside in the alley." I add with a glance to the door.

"The disabled bathroom it is.." I take a few steps forward, my hand still wrapped around your dick as I now lead you back to our meeting point by it, instead of your hand.

From airline bathroom dreams to this . . .

I take my hand off the back of your head long enough to grab my camera and follow you (and my cock) all the way to the bathroom.

Great thing about the disabled's . . . almost always a single-size, and usually a lot cleaner from the lack of use.

We lock the door behind us, and immediately go to town on each other's clothing . . . my first goal being your panties . . dragging them, tugging them down your thighs . . . but you keep getting away . . . teasing me . . . I can't reach them as you attack the buttons and zippers between you and your goal.

My pants drop to the floor, and I'm still reaching for your wetness when I feel your mouth begin to taste my cock . . . oh, fuck you feel good.

--

The Cock Slut Shows Off..

I'm too distracted by your cock to care about my panties or my own pleasure. Its too damn good to have a flesh and blood cock beneath my fingertips. And even better, in my mouth.

My head begins to bob up and down, not caring about teasing but simply giving into the need to have you. I slide your hard dick in and out of my mouth with pure abandon, loving the way it throbs against my tongue.

Your fingers slide into my hair, gripping it in that way guys tend to do when they have a girl on her knees in front of them. Fingers entwined in my hair like I might consider moving away. Not me, not now. I'm having too much fun.

But your hips begin to move, thrusting your cock into my mouth so I can suck it harder and faster. Its still not enough though. I want to make you come. I want to hear you moan and groan and fill my mouth with your hot release. I slide you into my throat and told your cock there, nuzzling into your lower stomach as I do. I hear your moan of reaction and can't help but grin as I show off for you..

Deep throated by a total stranger

Just before I fade out of focus I make sure that you (and ME!) have a momento of this incredible instant, and I take a few shots with my free hand. Looking down on the top of your red hair, your lips wrapped fully around my shaft, with occasional glimpses of your tongue and that divine fucking piercing flashing out. The camera catches it all, in what will hopefully become a flip-card series that I can play like an animation to remember this moment.

I drop the camera, close my eyes, and focus on the intensity of the tingling and pulsing moving from the base of my cock all the way to the tip as you work your incredible skills over me.

With every finishing stroke of that piercing on the underside of my cock-head, an intense electrical shock is sent throughout my body. My ass is clenching, my hips are intuitively surging forward, pressing my cock against the back of your throat.

Until suddenly you take me all the way inside your throat and hold me there, sucking the life and lust right out of me, like you want to swallow me even deeper down . . . "oh goddamn . . . you're fucking amazing . . . uhnn . . . "

My cock is building up more and more pressure, and I'm not sure how much I can stand before I explode . . . normally, I'd be worried about taking care of her, but I know for damn sure that I'll have plenty enough energy for that no matter what, so I just let go . . . focus on the pleasure . . .

. . . and thrill at the idea that this incredibly sexy slut seems to want to suck me dry. And it's going to happen . . . . soooooooooon . . .

--

Getting What I Want

I want your come in my mouth, that's my sole focus as I pleasure you right now. With each up and down, in and out stroke of your cock in my mouth I'm thinking about how good its going to feel (and lets not forget taste) to have you release into my mouth.

My fingernails scratch up and down your thighs as I moan my pleasure at your pleasure. The way you're acting; the thrust of your hips, the clenching of your fists, the tightening of your ass and the throbbing of your cock tell me its not going to be long before I get what I want.

I look up at you as I hold your cock in my throat, letting my eyes say what my mouth can't "Give Me Your Orgasm.. NOW!"