Homerun2611
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Mar 21, 2018
- Posts
- 7,433
What the fuck was I doing in Oklahoma? It wasn't so much I had anything against the state, Tulsa was actually quite nice with a bit of a cultural flair, Oklahoma's version of Albuquerque. However, Tulsa was not where I had to be, not this time, instead I had to be in the den of my hated rival. The state itself was a rascal. There were certain times where the weather seemed to take on aspects of the apocalypse. Whether it be golf ball size hail, deep snow and wicked winds of the plains, or tornadoes that left thousands devastated, this state could be nasty when mother nature was pissed off!
It wasn't the state, per se, no, the reason that Oklahoma, particularly Norman, left an unmistakable taste of bile in my mouth was its namesake university, the Oklahoma Sooners! Why did I hate them? I was a Longhorn, University of Texas alum, bleeding burnt orange. Ever since I had gone to college in Austin, I had attended every OU-Texas game as part of the Texas State Fair. OU had been a curse word, and what made it worst of all, was the way they continually kicked my Longhorn Bevo's ass. Whether it was Switzer, Stoopes, or Riley, the outcome of the Red River rivalry had largely been the same.
Therefore it was with some trepidation I found myself walking into one of the local college bars, and let's face it, in Norman they were all college bars! I chose Henry Hudson's, because they had pool and electronic poker and black jack machines. If nothing turned up, I could at least drown my sorrows in gambling and alcohol, my second and third favorite vices! Knowing full well, I would undoubtedly be surrounded by Sooners, yet football was not the contact sport on my mind! No, that was reserved for my favorite vice, women, the kind who gripped your soul, captivated your imagination and left claw marks in your back! I also had to admit, as much as I hated the Sooners, I liked their women. Girls of the South, they knew their football, and that wasn't all they enjoyed a little rough. They had that quiet kind of sexy, a wickedness that oozed through that Southern drawl.
Yet why was I here at all? I was a married man, looking for something that would likely cause more pain than pleasure. Perhaps it was the time, only one day before Valentine's Day. A day that sadly held no specific significance this year, but a day that held many heated memories. Memories I wanted to relive. Maybe it was Oklahoma, its heritage, and a desire for this cowboy to ride one more rodeo. God knows I had ridden my share, but it had been a while and the lingering thought of her, made me wonder if there was another saddle to slip into?
Oh, who was her? I didn't really know, it was silly really, as my sex life had diminished many years into my marriage, even including my dalliances with a few, who had tempted me, poked at the embers, and let the fire rage with that fresh breath of new oxygen. But Covid, the "modern plague" had ended any of that, and to be truthful it had ended quite a while before. Yet all the while she lingered.
She was my first, as a writer that is, when looking for an outlet for my stifled sexual whims, I had found erotic roleplay, and she had taken me in. Together we had wantonly attacked taboo after taboo, not caring for how politically incorrect our imaginations wandered. Yet as she wrote, equally representing, blondes, brunettes and redheads, her women were what women were meant to be, sexy, voluptuous, wanton, wicked and irresistible. It mattered little what age she played, it was that mind, that hunger, that she would at first repress and then let loose!
We'd gotten to know each other a bit, she was a woman life had tried to knock down, but she was not the type to play victim. I liked that! I also liked she had stories, and I liked how she didn't make excuses, she just moved ahead! She was divorced, I was not, she had a son, I had several, but I could feel how she loved her boy as I cherished mine, but more than anything we wrote, wicked, wild tales, attracting an audience who often referred to our stories as their wicked delight!
Still, what had me thinking that way, I was married, but we had become more friends than lovers, and I missed that feeling only a woman could stir in my soul. A long time ago, a friend had nicknamed me trouble, she'd meant it as a compliment, more in terms of the wicked thoughts I stirred in her, but tonight trouble, if the right opportunity presented itself, was exactly what I was seeking!
Walking into the Cantina, I was a fish out of water, mostly men in jeans and cowboy boots, and their nicest t-shirts, while I was in a dark gray Zegna suit, blue Egyptian pinpoint, cotton custom made shirt, no tie and Italian loafers. It was the armor of my livelihood. I am an investment banker, it was why I was here, selling an $800 million IT services company, from an OU alum, no less, to a large private equity firm.
Despite my attire, I enjoyed the country music playing in the background and if opportunity knocked, I could do a two step that would make most of these bootlickers green with envy. If the music turned to a salsa, rumba, or better yet, Argentine tango, then I could really put on a show. We had never discussed, but I somehow knew she could dance, and if she gave me a chance to show her a strong lead, we could do magic.
She was the motivation, even though the odds were 1 in 10,000. Hell, I only knew Oklahoma, not even the city. I took a table in the back, saw a few stares, sneers from the men, a cocked brow and a lick of the lips from the more aggressive women, but I quietly sat down, ordered a Modelo and scanned the room.
What exactly I was looking for, I don't know that either .. a woman likely in her 40's, although younger, or older it made no difference, a brunette, with a seductive body, and a certain way of carrying herself, that would draw a man like me like a moth to a flame. Icarus, ready to test his mettle. I didn't look long, for there at the end of the bar, was a woman who perfectly filled my imagination. She appeared to be alone, undoubtedly wanting it that way, but really does the Good Lord make a woman who looks like that, and intend for her to be alone?
She had no idea how i consumed her, watched as she sipped her drink, smiled, ran her fingertip and manicured nail on the rim of her glass. She was sexy and smoldering and she wasn't even trying. My cock got hard just watching her. When she smiled, not sure what the bartender had said, I saw those dimples and I at least had to see. I know she never saw me coming, not until I was standing just behind the stool to her right. I set my hand on the bar, my six foot two, well toned body, light brown hair with just a few flecks of gray, piercing blue eyes, and a deep, naturally commanding voice. I was wearing just a bit of Lagerfeld cologne, and that likely touched her senses before anything else.
It was time to switch drinks, it was game time! "Bartender, may I have a Johnnie Walker blue, two fingers, on the rocks, just a splash of water, and whatever the lady is having. It was only then I looked into those eyes, it was still a longshot, but damn, you were something. "Hello, I'm Rick..." And motioning to the open stool beside you, I briefly looked away, only to relock onto your eyes, "May I?"
It wasn't the state, per se, no, the reason that Oklahoma, particularly Norman, left an unmistakable taste of bile in my mouth was its namesake university, the Oklahoma Sooners! Why did I hate them? I was a Longhorn, University of Texas alum, bleeding burnt orange. Ever since I had gone to college in Austin, I had attended every OU-Texas game as part of the Texas State Fair. OU had been a curse word, and what made it worst of all, was the way they continually kicked my Longhorn Bevo's ass. Whether it was Switzer, Stoopes, or Riley, the outcome of the Red River rivalry had largely been the same.
Therefore it was with some trepidation I found myself walking into one of the local college bars, and let's face it, in Norman they were all college bars! I chose Henry Hudson's, because they had pool and electronic poker and black jack machines. If nothing turned up, I could at least drown my sorrows in gambling and alcohol, my second and third favorite vices! Knowing full well, I would undoubtedly be surrounded by Sooners, yet football was not the contact sport on my mind! No, that was reserved for my favorite vice, women, the kind who gripped your soul, captivated your imagination and left claw marks in your back! I also had to admit, as much as I hated the Sooners, I liked their women. Girls of the South, they knew their football, and that wasn't all they enjoyed a little rough. They had that quiet kind of sexy, a wickedness that oozed through that Southern drawl.
Yet why was I here at all? I was a married man, looking for something that would likely cause more pain than pleasure. Perhaps it was the time, only one day before Valentine's Day. A day that sadly held no specific significance this year, but a day that held many heated memories. Memories I wanted to relive. Maybe it was Oklahoma, its heritage, and a desire for this cowboy to ride one more rodeo. God knows I had ridden my share, but it had been a while and the lingering thought of her, made me wonder if there was another saddle to slip into?
Oh, who was her? I didn't really know, it was silly really, as my sex life had diminished many years into my marriage, even including my dalliances with a few, who had tempted me, poked at the embers, and let the fire rage with that fresh breath of new oxygen. But Covid, the "modern plague" had ended any of that, and to be truthful it had ended quite a while before. Yet all the while she lingered.
She was my first, as a writer that is, when looking for an outlet for my stifled sexual whims, I had found erotic roleplay, and she had taken me in. Together we had wantonly attacked taboo after taboo, not caring for how politically incorrect our imaginations wandered. Yet as she wrote, equally representing, blondes, brunettes and redheads, her women were what women were meant to be, sexy, voluptuous, wanton, wicked and irresistible. It mattered little what age she played, it was that mind, that hunger, that she would at first repress and then let loose!
We'd gotten to know each other a bit, she was a woman life had tried to knock down, but she was not the type to play victim. I liked that! I also liked she had stories, and I liked how she didn't make excuses, she just moved ahead! She was divorced, I was not, she had a son, I had several, but I could feel how she loved her boy as I cherished mine, but more than anything we wrote, wicked, wild tales, attracting an audience who often referred to our stories as their wicked delight!
Still, what had me thinking that way, I was married, but we had become more friends than lovers, and I missed that feeling only a woman could stir in my soul. A long time ago, a friend had nicknamed me trouble, she'd meant it as a compliment, more in terms of the wicked thoughts I stirred in her, but tonight trouble, if the right opportunity presented itself, was exactly what I was seeking!
Walking into the Cantina, I was a fish out of water, mostly men in jeans and cowboy boots, and their nicest t-shirts, while I was in a dark gray Zegna suit, blue Egyptian pinpoint, cotton custom made shirt, no tie and Italian loafers. It was the armor of my livelihood. I am an investment banker, it was why I was here, selling an $800 million IT services company, from an OU alum, no less, to a large private equity firm.
Despite my attire, I enjoyed the country music playing in the background and if opportunity knocked, I could do a two step that would make most of these bootlickers green with envy. If the music turned to a salsa, rumba, or better yet, Argentine tango, then I could really put on a show. We had never discussed, but I somehow knew she could dance, and if she gave me a chance to show her a strong lead, we could do magic.
She was the motivation, even though the odds were 1 in 10,000. Hell, I only knew Oklahoma, not even the city. I took a table in the back, saw a few stares, sneers from the men, a cocked brow and a lick of the lips from the more aggressive women, but I quietly sat down, ordered a Modelo and scanned the room.
What exactly I was looking for, I don't know that either .. a woman likely in her 40's, although younger, or older it made no difference, a brunette, with a seductive body, and a certain way of carrying herself, that would draw a man like me like a moth to a flame. Icarus, ready to test his mettle. I didn't look long, for there at the end of the bar, was a woman who perfectly filled my imagination. She appeared to be alone, undoubtedly wanting it that way, but really does the Good Lord make a woman who looks like that, and intend for her to be alone?
She had no idea how i consumed her, watched as she sipped her drink, smiled, ran her fingertip and manicured nail on the rim of her glass. She was sexy and smoldering and she wasn't even trying. My cock got hard just watching her. When she smiled, not sure what the bartender had said, I saw those dimples and I at least had to see. I know she never saw me coming, not until I was standing just behind the stool to her right. I set my hand on the bar, my six foot two, well toned body, light brown hair with just a few flecks of gray, piercing blue eyes, and a deep, naturally commanding voice. I was wearing just a bit of Lagerfeld cologne, and that likely touched her senses before anything else.
It was time to switch drinks, it was game time! "Bartender, may I have a Johnnie Walker blue, two fingers, on the rocks, just a splash of water, and whatever the lady is having. It was only then I looked into those eyes, it was still a longshot, but damn, you were something. "Hello, I'm Rick..." And motioning to the open stool beside you, I briefly looked away, only to relock onto your eyes, "May I?"
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