A Debt to be Paid

[chanaud]

OOC: This is a closed thread.

“Damn, Damn, Damn!”

I exclaimed loudly to no one in particular. ESPN SportsCenter was scrolling the scores at the bottom of their screen.

“Damn!” I exclaimed again for insurance.

How could they lose? Sure, my beloved Gators had a bad year with a new coach. But, lose to a big 10 team? How could they? 38-30? That must have been one hell of a game. Too bad the Gators Defense didn’t show up to play.

“Damn.”

Then an evil grin played with the corners of my mouth. I had debts to pay. I bleed blue and orange and like to back it up with bets. Nothing big - just a dollar here, a dollar there. Only this time, this year, I did something out of the ordinary, something wild and vicarious.

Right away, I logged on to my computer. With a swift click under favorites tab, I was logged onto my favorite website – Literotica.com. A short pause later, my fingers started flying.

Dear Miltone,

It seems I have a debt to pay.

Meet me this Friday at Munroe’s Pub – 9 pm!

A Rabid Gator,
Chanaud

Without a second thought and a click of the sent button, the PM was sent.

 

[Miltone]

Miltone

Wiping the sleep from my groggy eyes, I stumble into the office to check mail. Damn! This fucking holiday week has two god dammed Mondays! Yeah, but at least this one goes straight from Monday to Friday, I remind myself. A yawn and a scratch later my mailbox pops up.

Grow a longer penis! Looking down at my morning woody tells me that that isn’t the problem ... never has been. DELETE

Refinance your home mortgage! DELETE

You won’t believe what I did to your mother last night! DELETE

Increase your bust size overnight! Hmm, what I could do with a nice pair of tits! DELETE

Quickly fix or improve your credit! DELETE

New Private Message At Literotica Discussion Board Finally, something worth reading. And it is from Chanaud! This is always an indication that fun is lurking just around the corner.

Dear Miltone,
It seems I have a debt to pay.
Meet me this Friday at Munroe’s Pub – 9 pm!
A Rabid Gator,
Chanaud

Mmm, that’s right, my Wolverines didn’t let me down yesterday, and I didn’t even have to bet against the spread. Of course my thoughts begin to race ahead. It’s only Thursday and, thanks to the Internet, reservations and plane tickets are easy to come by. A longer search turns up the location of Munroe’s Pub. I’ve always said that I do my best work before 10 a.m. and shit here it is only 9:30! Thinking of my dear Lady Chanaud always brings a smile to my face. Oh, this day is going to go quickly I can tell as I type out my reply.

Dear Chanaud,
So it seems you do! Yes, indeed! But since my flight doesn’t land until sometime after 8, better make that 9:30. And don’t worry about what to wear, for I will be bringing you a little something in the appropriate winning colors.
With my warmest regards,
Miltone

Oh, yes, my dear! I shall teach you not to bet against the Big Ten and my precious Wolverines! Heh, heh, heh, heh, heh!

 

[chanaud]

My first day back at work was a whirlwind. Not only did I have tons of work to catch up on, my fellow co-workers were parading through my office asking about my holiday and feigning interest. The ridiculous grins and evilness shining through their eyes told me what they were here for. They were here to taunt me like they did the other five times the Gators lost. I’ve become the amusement for the day. That’s what I get for being such a rabid fan.

After working diligently all morning, I stopped to catch my breath. I logged onto Literotica.com again and noticed a PM from Miltone. As I clicked on the message, my spine relaxed with amusement. He’s always had that effect on me.

Dear Chanaud,
So it seems you do! Yes, indeed! But since my flight doesn’t land until sometime after 8, better make that 9:30. And don’t worry about what to wear, for I will be bringing you a little something in the appropriate winning colors.
With my warmest regards,
Miltone

Then it hit me. This is for real. He’s really coming down to collect. What am I doing? What have I gotten myself involved with? I barely know this man. Sure we’re shared a few PM’s, wrote some steamy sex scenes, and chatted a few times, but other than that we barely know each other. For gawd’s sake, I don’t even know his last name or the sound of his voice. I’ve seen one picture of him, which is posted on his webpage. But if he were to bump into me right now, I probably wouldn’t recognize him.

I must stop him, I decided. My fingers flew to the reply button. The cursor flashed before me waiting for some sort of a coherent excuse, but nothing came to me.

“Hey, Gator Bait. How much of my daughter’s wedding can I write off?” My boss voice commanded for immediate attention.

My fingers flew to the red x button on the upper left hand corner of my computer screen. A flush filled my cheeks. My boss was very conservative and I certainly didn’t want to risk my professional image.

“Let me see……”

I answered immediately filing Miltone’s message to the back of my mind.

 

[Miltone]

“Shit!” I swore under my breath as I slipped through the snow falling in the mall parking lot. Knowing that another day would find me in a much warmer, sunnier climate brought a smile to my face. With the storm brewing, I hadn’t intended to stop anywhere on the way home from work. But with the thought twinkling in my mind of having this … this little sports bet … paid off by the lovely Chanaud, I sauntered into The Michigan Store. I knew what I wanted, having seen it while doing some Christmas shopping, and headed toward the racks near the rear.

“Can I help you find something?” asked Amy, the cute little sales clerk wearing a Lady Wolverines basketball shirt.

“I don’t think so,” I replied perusing the rack to my left. “I think I’ve found it right here.”

“Oh, those sets are 35 percent off,” she said. “They’re really cute and comfortable … and kind of sexy too if you don’t mind my saying."

“No, I don’t mind. And what can you say? You can't beat the colors!" I laughed as I fingered the silky dark blue material with the maize piping. I'm sure she noticed the wicked grin on my face.

"Not exactly what will keep you warm on a cold night like this,”
she giggled.

"I have other plans about keeping warm anyway," I chuckled.

“Ooo! Lucky girl! Will there be anything else?” she asked with a smile as we headed up toward the checkout.

“Hmm, maybe one of those nifty coffee mugs,” I said pointing out the stack by the register with a picture of a vicious Wolverine with a limp Gator in his mouth. “That should do it.”

Carting my purchases to the car, I thought of sunny Florida and the sweet and sexy Gator Girl who would be waiting to pay off her debt. Heh, heh, heh! This should be fun! I just hope she has the nerve to pull it off, because I sure do!

 

[chanaud]

My workday over, I walked tirelessly to my car while enjoying the last of the sun’s rays beating down on my face and bare arms. It was 72 here. The warm tropical breeze was blowing perfectly at 10-12 knots. You couldn’t have asked for better climate. Well, maybe, if it was about 10 degrees warmer, I mused silently. Being a Floridian, I tend to like my climates hotter.

“Oh no! Miltone!”

Cold temperatures reminded me of the PM I had received earlier. Tomorrow night. What to do? What to do? It was too late to change his plans. More than likely, he’s already booked his flight. I had a narrow window of opportunity earlier, but my fingers couldn’t type the necessary words. A realization crept in and made me shudder. I must not have wanted to stop him. No. A delicious smile rose to my eyes. Actually, it would be nice to meet a fellow Litster. No, let me clarify that. It would be really, really nice to meet Miltone.

Remembering the threads we’ve collaborated, I shivered despite the warmth. Miltone’s writings so similar to Fitzgerald have kept me company on many long, lonely nights on so many occasions. Tiny tingles appeared on my skin making me twitch in my driver’s seat. Unconsciously, my right hand strayed up and brushed against my nipple. The tingles traveled rapidly to settle betwixt my legs. Oh yesss…I think the idea of meeting Miltone no longer seemed ludicrous. In fact, it’s becoming quite stimulating.

Later that night after watching Georgia beat Florida State, I settled down at the computer and logged on to Literotica.com once more.

My Dear Miltone,

My! You surely don’t waste any time in collecting your debts. I am more than pleased to hear your arrangements are already made.

Looking forward to seeing you at 9:30.

Fondly yours,
Chanaud

P.S. Are you suggesting that I greet you nude since you’re planning on dressing me? <grin>



As I submitted the PM, the tingles came back in greater force. It wasn’t until early morning hours before I finally nodded off into a restful sleep.

 

[Miltone]

Shaking off the snow as I hustled into the new West Field terminal, I checked my single bag, quickly worked through the security line, grabbed a frothy cappuccino, and sat with my laptop near the gate. What did we ever do before wireless connections? Land lines? Fax machines?? How primitive!!

In the flicker of the lights outside the terminal I could have seen the airships moving through the deepening darkness. In the glare of the terminal lights I might have seen the lovely blonde across from me, struggling to open and re-arrange her carry-on. On a normal day I certainly wouldn’t have missed the admiring flirtatious glance from the flight attendant as she stooped over to smooth out her nylon.

Distracted? Absolutely! All it took was the thought of this new friend, this spirited, talented writer of whom I had grown quite fond, her quirky, original style that had instantly captured my attention, her fun-loving and fresh attitude, and her deeply sensuous soul. Everything else seemed to fall away from the periphery of my existence. Especially this evening. Until the beep from my Dell summoned me back to the hustle of the airport.

Oh! And what is this? Aside from the email spam tempting me with available Russian women looking for American husbands (they all look like valley girls named Tammy) and another offer of penis enlargement—damn! Do these bastards ever take a fucking break??!! Another PM from Chanaud! I remembered those of the past couple of days grudgingly admitting her loss of our little wager. Sure we had made this bet on the outcome of our bowl game, the first meeting between our alma maters. But on a whim I had set the wheels in motion and suddenly here I was in the blare of a busy airport terminal in the midst of the holiday rush, ready to board a plane to her town for our little rendezvous.

It seemed like a lark at first, submitting to the fervor of loyal alumni at the height of the collegiate bowl season. We had simply wagered to submit to the other’s whim for a night and I had prepared myself to comply, given the oddsmakers’s predictions. But here I sat moments away from the boarding call, having never felt so certain, so confident, so damned excited at the prospect. She must know that I am nothing if not a gentleman. Yet there was a debt to be paid. Her debt and I would be there to collect it. I chuckled at her postscript.

Are you suggesting that I greet you nude since you’re planning on dressing me? <grin>

Honey, I will be the one who is grinning! And the prospect of her being nude sent a chill up and down my spine. And the thought of her dressed in the cute and sexy little U of M outfit I had picked out send a stirring feeling straight down to my loins. Shit! This is going to happen! I tapped out a reply and sent it off. It was still early enough that she should read it before leaving to meet me.

My Dear Lady Chanaud,

Although the prospect of your greeting me in the nude is incredibly alluring, for the sake of propriety alone, an overcoat or some such (whatever fulfills that description in your climate) will suffice. You will recognize me by the maize and blue Michigan sweatshirt and the shit-eating grin on my face!

Looking most forward ,
Miltone

I sent it off without thinking, then thought of a wittier closing. Ah, well! She would know and understand. 9:30 at Munroe’s Pub. I closed my eyes and let my mind drift off in warm anticipation. Warm weather, a new friend, and unknown events about to unfold. Mmm, life IS good when the Wolverines are victorious! Hail to the Victors!

“Now boarding Spirit Airlines Flight 639,” came the announcement over the loudspeakers.

Within minutes, I joined the line trundling down the gangway. Lady Chanaud, here I come!

 

[chanaud]

I was a mess, a complete and bumbling mess. All day long, my employees had to repeat things twice, sometimes thrice only to receive incoherent ramblings. They walked away shaking their heads with total confusion. They gathered in small groups gossiping among themselves wondering the cause of my absentmindedness. But I was blind to it all. My mind was elsewhere. It was on the ever so sexy, Miltone who was on his way down to my hometown to collect. Finally, around two in the afternoon I had to get away. I had to walk around or find something to keep me busy. I picked up my briefcase and announced to my assistant that I wouldn’t be back for the rest of the day.

I did manage to stay busy. I stopped by Norm’s Liquor Store and spent a good hour parading the aisles reading the back of every wine bottle. The clerk finally got tired of watching my confused state and asked if he can assist me. I told him everything, the whole story. After turning red as a beet, he rephrased his question. “How can I assist you in choosing a bottle for your ermm… blind date?” After a good half hour later, I was walking out of Norm’s with shopping bags of Chardonnays, Merlots, Brandy, and beer.

The rest of the afternoon was spent at the salon. Again, I repeated the story to everyone who bothered to ask me how my day was. Everybody had different advice. Have sex with him. Don’t have sex with him. Wait until the morning to have sex with him. Have sex with him; just don’t give him a blowjob. Wear a condom. I walked out of the salon even more confused than ever.

When I arrived home, I noticed I still had a few hours. I ran around the house making sure everything was in its rightful place. The bathroom was spotless. My linens were freshly laundered with a hint of lotus petal that was my signature scent. Pillow were in its rightful place, yet seemed careless. All of my clothes were hung up and shoes put away. The house was perfect. I had nothing to do, yet have a couple of hours to wait. I sat down to rest my feet. Before I knew it I woke up startled yelling out Miltone! in the night air.

 

[Miltone]

I hate being late for anything, business appointments, meetings, dinner, a date—you name it. I realized that I had cut my timetable pretty thin in planning this trip so spur-of-the-moment, and as I rested aboard the plane, somewhere south of the Appalachians, the gentle vibrations of flight jostling me into a light napping sleep, I noted the time. Just a couple of hours and I would be taking the hand of Lady Chanaud. My thoughts drifted pleasantly off as I contemplated the tall striking Eurasian beauty.

Just how would this all work out? Would we have sex as wagered, or would she wimp out or beg off? And if we did, what would it be like, slow and easy and romantic with lots of touching and teasing and kissing, or would our encounter find me holding her wrists above her head, pining her against the wall, taking her hard and fast as she cries out my name, her voice shaking with passion? A mix of the two? Or something in between? I could only imagine at this point, for I was nothing if not a gentleman. But a wager was a wager and this sweet Lady was on the line to pay up.

Soon enough we had touched down. With one eye on the clock, I worked my way through the baggage claim and on to the car rental. “Damned if I’ll get stuck in a tinny Cavalier!” I railed at the attendant who relented and finally let me have the sleek CTS instead at the same price cause that’s all they had. Wheeling through the Friday evening traffic, I rolled the window down and luxuriated in the balmy weather. I could get very used to this climate, such a far cry from the low 20s back in Motown.

It was already after nine and I was nearly a half hour from the Pub. There would be no time to check into my hotel before our meeting. No matter, I called up and confirmed my late arrival to the cordial night clerk at the Hyatt. As I punched the off key, I set my phone down on the seat, right next to the small shopping back with the cute little outfit inside. Mmm, how I loved to dress up a woman, as Ms Chanaud would find out. We’ll see if she wears the trench coat or not. Then the thought struck me; would I recognize her? Oh, yes. I will know her the moment I see her, just as she will me.

And so here we are, I said to myself as I drove past Munroe’s. Parking was no problem. This University of Michigan sweatshirt was totally unneeded this night, I thought as I strolled up into the bar. But I was the victor in this little game and I must be dressed properly. I did feel more than a few eyes on me when I entered, carrying my little package, and humming my alma mater’s fight song. There was a prominent seat at the bar open, well in view of the door. Checking my watch, I could see that it is nine-thirty-three. I smiled, looking around at the décor. There was no mistaking that surely I was in Gator Land given the profusion of blue and orange. But to the Victor’s went the spoils and tonight the spoils were named Chanaud.

 

[chanaud]

9:15 PM

The clock glared in the dark.

Damn, Damn, Damn! I couldn’t help cursing. I have fifteen minutes to meet Miltone and I haven’t yet decided what to wear again.

Staring into my closet and pondering on what to wear, I couldn’t help noticing there was a hint of coolness in the air. My thin Florida blood is way too sensitive, unlike a thick blooded Yankee like Miltone. He probably thinks it’s warm, I couldn’t help musing silently. My fingers were ready to grasp a low cut black sweater when words filtered in from the cool air.

Arrive Nude. Wear an overcoat at least.

A wicked smile split my face as my eyes gleamed as bright as the moon. My fingers ran across the hanging clothes until it found the right garment.

Few moments later, I was staring into a full lengthy mirror with a critical eye. The thin black overcoat hung perfectly to mid thigh. The belt cinching my waist gave me the perfect hourglass figure. My thick auburn hair was pulled back into a tight bun. A slight trace of last summer’s tan gave me enough color so I didn’t have to wear makeup. The anticipation of meeting Miltone brightened my eyes. As I brushed crimson lipstick across my lips, I couldn’t help sighing. I hope I don’t disappoint Miltone.

It seemed as if the whole town knew of my upcoming meeting and decided to pave the way for me. It took less than five minutes to get to Munroe’s. It also seemed as if everyone was in the damn pub. My eyes scanned the bar nervously and didn’t see anyone resembling what Miltone would look like.

The overcoat slid easily over the high barstool between two empty ones.

“Hi…”

A masculine voice drifted towards my direction.

 

[Miltone]

The warmth of the crowded bar was settling around me as I waited for my bourbon on the rocks to show up. No sooner had the barkeep rung it up on my tab and set down the dark amber liquor in front of me, then I noticed a tall strikingly attractive woman walk into the bar nervously, wearing a very un-Florida-like short black overcoat. Her face scanned the crowd but skipped right over me for some reason. This had to be her. Lady Chanaud, your reputation certainly does precede you! Her auburn hair was pulled back and her pretty Eurasian face triggered a warm response in me. She slipped onto an empty stool and her head swung around and back again. She looked down and bit her lip before looking back up again. Was she … frightened?

This cool smooth lady with whom I had chatted long and intimately was showing some signs of indecision and apprehension. I chuckled at the notion that she might have thought this was just a lark, an impulsive bet gambled away on a online chat with no chance of happening. Did she think that I wasn’t serious? Did I take her bet too seriously? Yet, here we were—hell, here I was, transported down to the other side of the country, sitting in a bar full of strangers, all except one, and her favor was definitely not yet called in. I hadn’t come all this way just to walk out of the barroom without so much as not having at least said hello. She fidgeted with the hem of her overcoat, trying to tug it down her long, long shapely legs. Too bad, for they are something to see. But as she glanced around the barroom again, I couldn’t remain in my seat. I grabbed the gift bag and my drink from the bar and slipped off the stool.

“Hi,” I called out, sauntering over to the tall beauty in the black overcoat. As I approached, the remembrance of my email struck me. The overcoat had been my idea, but was she really naked underneath? The thought that she was sent a warm blush to my cheeks and a smile to my lips. “How’re you doing, Beautiful?”

“Oh … hi,” she said looking up at me, her eyes large and wide. “Miltone?” Hers was a tentative voice, but the nature of it, the quality of it melted me, silky smooth and sensual voice, so much that it caught me unprepared.

“Chanaud?” I ventured, my hand casually extended. “How are you?”

She reached her hand out and slipped it so naturally into mine. Long slender fingers, warm and soft with just a slight trace of trembling. And then I saw the smile, the blush on the cheeks, and a certain look in her eyes. But as she took my hand and leaned toward me, the folds of her overcoat parted just enough for me to clinch the idea that she had followed my directions to a T. Mmm, and my, what a lovely view it was!

“I’m just great!” she replied, tossing her head back flirtatiously.

“Same here,” I echoed. “Now that we’ve met.” I was sure that we let our hands rest in this friendly handshake a little longer than we might have otherwise intended. “Oh. This is for you.” I held out the gift bag from the Michigan Store.

Chanaud looked down at the dark blue bag with the big block maize M emblazoned on the front. It was still so soon after the defeat of her alma mater and I knew that it took a good swallow of humility for her to accept my little gift.

“Ermm, thank you,” she said, her sexy voice still a bit reluctant, thought not much more that some Captain Morgan’s and a deep wet kiss couldn’t cure. Her hand darted into the bag to poke at the tissue covering my gift.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah!” I said reaching my hand over to rest upon hers. “That’s what the ladies room is for.”

Instinctively, her eyes darted over to the entrance of the restrooms, then glided back to mine. It was a small bag after all and no doubt she had caught at least a glimpse of the dainty blue and maize silk lingerie that rested within. It was a precious moment, her eyes looking into the bag, wishing for x-ray powers, then looking up to me impishly, with that disarming smile and a kind of sexual glow to her complexion. Our eyes locked for a moment, acknowledging the fact that we didn’t need to compare weather stories and that mundane questions about my flight down were of no consequence.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Miltone,” she said coolly, taking the bag into her lap.

“The pleasure is mine,” I said slipping onto one of empty stools beside her. “Entirely. Now why don’t we get you a drink, eh?”

 

[chanaud]

I would never have imagined a person could experience all emotions like I did in the last five minutes. I was frightened and nervous when I first entered the bar. What if I was nothing he had imagined me to be? What if Miltone would be disappointed? What if he changed his mind? The Internet allows false personas. We hold our online friends on tall pedestals, and I hoped Miltone would be somewhat pleased with my average looks. What if? What if? What if?

When I slipped in a lone barstool and glanced around the bar once more, a tall blonde man was walking towards my direction. I couldn’t help noticing how handsome he was. His eyes were bright blue and arresting. I’ve always had a pension for blue eyes. And I knew his at the right time and place would make me melt.

Then he smiled. I knew right away it was he. It was Miltone and he was just as handsome as I imagined him to be. The next few minutes were a blur. I couldn’t even repeat what had happened. I was relieved however of his smile. He seemed pleased and I was so glad I didn’t disappoint. Miltone handed a bag to me. I peeked inside and saw a trace of blue and gold silk. A blush took over of the thought of Miltone giving me lingerie. But when my eyes met his, I knew. No words were needed. Everything that needed to be said passed in our eyes. Another blush crowded my cheeks at the inevitable.

“I will take a rum and coke, please.”

Miltone nodded. “I’ll have the same.” He said to the bartender.

I placed my hand over his and leaned in to talk over the noisy patrons. “I’m so glad you came.”

Miltone turned his head and smiled warmly. Our heads were close, so dangerously close. One deft movement and our lips would have met. “You wouldn’t think I would let an opportunity like this to pass, would you? Remember what I told you, a bet is a bet and I’m here to collect.”

His eyes glanced down. My eyes followed his and saw how the split reached the top of my long legs. Another shift in my seat and I would be providing a peek show for the whole bar.

His eyes rose to mine. We both laughed at the idea before I adjusted and close the hem. I shivered delightfully. Oh yesss… this is going to be some night. I can feel it in my loins already.

 

[Miltone]

How many times have you met someone online under any one of a myriad of circumstances, a chat room, a website bulletin board, maybe you’re a writer looking for an audience or a partner, a lonely lover looking for a warm port in the storm, or just a soft sympathetic shoulder to cry upon? So many times the screen-names come and go, soon to be forgotten and replaced by the current taste of the month. But Chanaud, my dear Lady Chanaud had stayed and remained on my hotlist for many weeks, always a warm smile and an easy ear. Over the weeks I knew that we would meet one day, sooner or later. And now here we were, by whatever serendipitous means that came, her hand placed lightly in mine, our faces close enough to kiss in this loud raucous barroom.

Our conversation fell as easily as did the chats and emails and threads we had composed together, easy and familiar and accessible as an old friend, challenging intellectually and emotionally, yet as I took her hand in mine and looked into her eyes, I could see and feel something very real, very solid, and very exciting. We had been talking for an hour perhaps when my eyes fell away following the punch line to one of her stories and focused on her very long legs and the part of her overcoat and I could almost swear that the dark shadow between her legs became well illuminated for a moment. And when she tugged at the hem of her coat, I nearly laughed out loud, not because it was funny, but because her sense of modesty was so innocent and charming, and very beguiling. I looked up to see her laughing as well. It was a beautiful laugh.

“So aren’t you the least bit curious about what’s in the bag?” I asked.

Her impish smile told me everything I needed to know.

“Then … why don’t you take that little bag into the ladies room and try on what you find inside?” I suggested.

“I can’t wait to try it on,” she laughed—it was a great laugh, broad smile and lots of teeth and a twinkle in her eye that wasn’t entirely innocent.

“Only one thing, though,” I replied placing my hand on hers as she moved to slip off her barstool. “If you remember our bet correctly, you have to submit to my desires tonight.”

For a moment, she paused half off the stool, her eyes flashing between me, and the restroom doorway and her drink, and maybe the leer of the horny bartender. “Yes … I remember,” she answered with a proud, defiant toss of her head.

“I don’t want you to put on the overcoat when you return from the restroom,” I smiled. “For you to pay off this bet I want to see you walk through this barroom in the heart of Gator country, wearing the maize and blue of Michigan.”

“All right,” Chanaud replied with a nervous smile creasing her pretty face.

“And not slowly,” I said slowly, squeezing her hand slightly. “I want you to take your time so that the whole barroom can see you in the lovely outfit I picked out just for you.”

Chanaud nodded circumspectly, almost obediently. Then I saw an evil little grin creep over her face. Oh, that I knew exactly what she was thinking when she smiled at me like that! She gave my hand a squeeze in return and slipped off the barstool. As I watched her pad off toward the restroom, I felt a stirring—a tingling, actually—in my belly and thighs. No, it couldn’t mean what I wanted to think. Did she? Would she? Was I ready to …? As she opened the door to the ladies restroom, I saw her look back at me and her smile sent a shiver up and down my spine. Maybe … just maybe …

 

[chanaud]

I was drunk, deliriously drunk, not from the single rum and coke I was nursing the past hour, but from Miltone. His presence, his laugh, his wonderful sense of humor and his dare overwhelmed me. He was everything I had imagined him to be and more, I thought as I swayed across the barroom knowing his eyes were following my every move to the ladies room.

Once inside locked in a ladies room stall, I snuck a peek at what was inside the bag. I recognized the colorful maize and blue Michigan colors immediately. But when I lifted the silky garments, my mouth dropped. I can’t wear this, I thought. No way! Not here amongst my fellow Gators, my peers, my alumni and especially not in my hometown. My fingers dropped the lingerie back in the bag. And I stormed out the stall determined to walk out to the bar and tell Miltone that I refuse. But then my reflection stopped me. There standing tall was a beautiful stranger, someone I’ve never seen before, a woman resembling my colors and features dressed in nothing but a simple winter’s coat standing in the mirror daring me to stop. Finish the night, she said. You’ve gone this far. Why not continue? After all, Miltone flew a long ways to meet you. Why stop now?

I walked back slowly and determinedly to the stall and shed the overcoat. I pulled on the navy t-back and giggled at the ridiculous sight. A maize colored ‘M’ barely covered my mound. The dark blue tap pants slipped on easily. It formed around my derriere snugly and felt like second skin. When I lifted my knees, the pants moved with me and wasn’t a bit uncomfortable. The maize colored spaghetti strap camisole slipped easily over my head. It fell like a cloud against my bare skin. I felt something rough against my left nipple. I looked down to find another navy ‘M’ barely covering my nipple. The cool material grazed over my nipples. I blushed furiously at the thought of walking out to the bar like that. It only made it worse. My nipples were sharpening into points against the soft silk.

I walked out the stall and stopped before the mirror. I twisted my back to check out my backside. It was a bit too daring for my conservative lifestyle. But at least the pants were dark blue and it didn’t reveal much except the outline of my ass. Facing forward, everything looked fine. Except… except… I peered closer for a second look. Oh no! Oh God! The outline of the M on my t-back was clearly visible through the navy pants. A blush flooded my cheeks again. Did he know? How could he? If he didn’t, he will be in for a huge surprise. The thought brought a delicious grin on my face.

“Miltone, ready or not, here I come!”

 

[Miltone]

I’m a patient man, friends and lovers often remarked about my capacity to wait for the right thing to come along. Whether it was a valued collectible automobile, a choice job, or a fine woman, I have always been willing to wait, just as long as it wasn’t in a line—I do not wait in lines well at all. But tonight, after watching Chanaud disappear into the ladies restroom, the lilt of her smile haunted me and I actually felt anxious. She did seem to be taking a long time. Did she like my little gift set? I was sure that it would fit. Was she going to chicken out? Looking around at all the blue and orange, I knew that the maize and blue would stand out and be noticed. But a bet was a bet and I was here to collect her debt.

I chuckled to think about the nature of this little dare, a wager between a pair of online friends, who in a moment of alma mater, college bowl game rah-rah weakness had bet that the loser would be obligated to submit to the winner for an evening. I ordinarily wouldn’t have considered such a bet with anyone else. But there was something about this girl, something very special, fascinating and intriguing and I wouldn’t have ventured the bet unless I was willing to pay, should I lose. But then, it was my Wolverines, my one an only true weakness.

The thought that the lovely Chanaud was in the ladies room changing into the dark blue camisole and tap pants and the dainty t-back panty all trimmed in maize with an embroidered block M, sent a shiver though me. She was changing, wasn’t she? But after this, what then? What else could I want from her? What else would I want? The answer came when the ladies room door swung open wide and Chanaud swept back into the room.

I’m sure that my jaw must have dropped to my lap, but no one else in the crowded barroom noticed, for their eyes were on the tall beauty dressed in the blue silk ensemble with maize trim, who so confidently strutted slowly, very, very slowly towards the empty bar chair beside me. She had slung her coat over her shoulder, and took long steady, graceful strides with her long shapely legs. There was a sleek smooth pace to her walk, not the hard edged strut of a fashion model on a runway, but an easy flowing parade-like gait that produced the most alluring and sexy jiggle in her breasts, perfectly unsuspended beneath the blue silk. Her head was tossed back proudly and an amazing smile graced her face, flushed with the excitement of the moment no doubt. More than just a couple of wolf whistles were heard in the background as the crowd parted before her. A silence fell through the bar for just a few moments as Chanaud passed by. Then the chatter resumed and the usual barroom hubbub returned back to normal.

“So what do you think?” Chanaud asked as she slipped up to her chair.

“I’ve never seen my school colors look so good,” I blurted out. I was sure that the blush in her cheeks was matched by my own. How did it get so hot in here all of a sudden?

“So, do I … can I?” she said, indicating her cute little winter jacket.

“Hmm, let’s see …” I began as if in thought. “No. Not yet. I want to see what you look like.” I twirled my finger around in a circle. She gave me a look and pirouetted slowly a couple of times, slowly letting me observe the drape of the silk against her tall trim body. It did fit her like a glove. “Nice. Very nice. But no. I’ll tell you when you can put the coat back on.”

She set her jacket on the backrest, slipped up onto her empty bar chair and gazed over at me. I could have sworn that she was going to say something to me, asked me a question, something … anything. But she remained silent, her eyes appraising me as I looked her over, making sure to keep coming back to those eyes.

“I’ve taken the liberty of ordering you another drink,” I said. “I figured you might need one after this. And by the way, I like what you’ve done to that M. Quite fetching!”

She glanced down at her chest, eyeing the drape of the silk on her body that showed off the curve of her breasts and the sharp points of her nipples, the one producing an eye-catching bump in the embroidered M. For some reason she drew her hand down over her chest, her fingers gliding down between her breasts, a move that only served to accentuate the revealing nature of the camisole.

“I feel sooo naked, Miltone,” she confessed, her voice sounding soft and girlish as her drink arrived and she took a healthy sip. “I never do stuff like this.”

“Well, every eye may be on you my dear, but only because you look absolutely beautiful,” I said, hoping that she would understand the innocent intent of my compliment. “And to be perfectly honest, I don’t do stuff like this either, but sometimes you just have to break out, you know?” I picked up my bourbon and held it up. “I’d say something like, ‘Here’s looking at you kid,’ but then the whole damn bar is … so, cheers, Baby!”

We clinked glasses and drank. She glanced over in the direction of the jukebox. I looked at her with a question on my face.

“Oh, nothing. Just a favorite song,” she remarked.

“Would you like to dance then?” I suggested.

She looked down at herself then over at me. “Dressed like this?”

“Why not?”

 

[chanaud]

It's late in the evening
She's wondering what clothes to wear
She puts on her make up
And brushes her long blonde hair
And then she asks me
Do I look alright
And I say yes, you look wonderful tonight

Miltone’s strong hand guided me between tables and onto a tiny dance floor. Barely touching my back, his hand pulled me towards him and we swayed slowly, ever so slowly in tune to Eric Clapton’s low, sultry voice. As corny as it sound, I did feel wonderful. Chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat, breaths mingling, eyes communicating, it was the most wondrous feeling, and I knew before the night ended it would only get it better.

I was still caught in the spell when the song ended too soon. A chair scraping across the wooden floor brought me back to reality. When I finally came to, I noticed how dangerously close our lips were. With trembling lips, I pulled away reluctantly.

“Why don’t we go outside for a breath of fresh air.” He suggested softly.

All I could manage was a nod.

Once outside, we stood in the crowded parking lot and turned to each other. What now? I thought. There really was nowhere to go but to…

“My place is around the corner. That is if you would like another drink. Ermmm… and to talk…”

His wide smile made me stop.

“Yes, I would love to go to your place.” His hand gave me a suggestive squeeze. “That is for a drink.”

His shining blue eyes told me something else.

 

[Miltone]

What was there in her eyes that told me a drink and some conversation weren’t all that dear Chanaud had in mind? Was it the way her eyebrows arched up when she suggested another drink? Or was it the warm smile she gave me when I took her hand and squeezed it? It’s funny when you converse with someone over a period of time without meeting them, you sort of build up an image in your mind of how they look and what they sound like in person.

Sure, you can talk on the phone and exchange photos, but that isn’t anything like meeting them face to face. I had built up this image of Chanaud over the months we had corresponded, exchanging vital statistics and questions, at times some very personal ones, but had not been prepared for the real thing. She was pretty and charming and had the most wonderful eyes and fascinating laugh.

As we had met and talked in the bar, I felt myself drawing closer to her with each word. And when she so gamely tried on the outfit I had brought, and paraded through the crowded bar, I might have felt ashamed for making her do so, except that she did it with such élan and spirit and resounding good nature, that I couldn’t help but feel a strong attraction to her. But then seeing her in the thin maize and blue silk, her perky tits winking at me, her fetchingly long legs crossed and uncrossed, and feeling her in my arms as we danced, the twinkle in her eyes, and that smile, that eternal smile … who could blame me for being smitten and accepting her invitation?

She opened up her car and tossed her jacket in the back. I wasn’t sure what came over me, but I stood beside her and slipped my hand around her waist, pulling her around to face me, my hand moving unintentionally underneath the camisole. Her hand rose protectively to my chest, but as my other arm encircled her and pulled her close, she arched her back and raised her face toward mine. In the humid night air, beneath the halogen streetlamp, Chanaud fell into my embrace and we kissed. It was short and sweet and felt quite special.

She drove the few blocks to her place, which I found cute and quirky and comfortable, very much like its occupant.

“So what’s your poison?”

“Bourbon on the rocks if you have it,” I said.

“Think so,” she said, padding off, and I followed behind. “So what do you think?” she asked bending over while she rummaged through her liquor cabinet.

I found myself staring at the very lovely curves of her ass through the thin silk tap pants. I could detect just the slightest trace of the t-back and the split of her mound between her legs. “Hmm, looks mighty fine to me,” I ventured. She turned back to me and smiled.

“My place, Miltone, not my ass!” she giggled.

“Well,” I said clearing my voice. “Both look mighty fine to me. What can I say?”

She found and poured some bourbon for me and Captain Morgan’s for herself. We adjourned to her couch and sat at a close but friendly distance. Although she lounged comfortably, her arm on the back of the couch, I hunched forward rolling my glass of bourbon in both hands.

“You’ve been such a good sport about this,” I said. “I’ve been surprised, but pleasantly so.”

“Did you expect anything otherwise?”

“Hardly. You certainly haven’t disappointed me in the least. I was sure it would go this way when I left home, but had some doubts along the way, that is, until I met you.”

“And?”

“And as soon as I met you, all the concerns seemed to disappear,” I chuckled. “Besides, once I saw you in blue silk, well, I was captivated.”

“So um, is my debt considered paid in full?”

“Hmm, we did say something about one having to submit to the other for an evening, and by my watch it’s still evening.”

“Then what sort of submission did you have in mind, Miltone,” she said easing closer to me, her hand running up my back. “Leather, chains, leash and collar, nipple clamps?” Her voice played with each word delightfully.

“Hardly,” I laughed, setting my glass down on the table. “You know, I’m not into that lifestyle.”

“Then what sort of lifestyle are you into?” she asked, moving her body close enough to mine that we were touching.

I turned to face her and felt our noses touch. Our eyes locked for a moment and I felt her warm breath wash over my face. “My lifestyle is kind of quirky and personal,” I said slowly, squaring my shoulders toward her and bringing my hand to rest on her thigh.

“Quirky? Mmm, sounds like fun,” she purred, her hands moving up and down my chest and around my shoulders.

“And it’s the kind of lifestyle,” I whispered, as my hands slipped to her waist feeling her soft warm skin, “Where friends have sex because there is some sort of meaning to their relationship, not because of some silly wager.” I began to lean back toward the corner of the couch, pulling Chanaud over to me.

“I like that kind of lifestyle, Miltone,” she hummed, straddling my hips, her mound rubbing against my stiffening cock. “So what about our silly little bet?”

“As I can see it from here, Chanaud,” I whispered as my hands ran up underneath the thin blue silk camisole. She leaned toward me, her lips nearly brushing against mine. “All bets are off the board!”

 

[chanaud]

“Are you sure? You’ve been reminding me all night that a bet is a bet.”

My lips grazed over his lightly. His hands continued to explore my soft skin until it reached the underside of my breasts. I couldn’t help shivering with delight as the back of his fingers tickled the round curve of my breasts.

“True, a bet is a bet. But, I want you to be free. Free to come to me, to be with me without being obligated to a silly bet.”

Miltone leaned in to kiss me lightly; his hands lifted my camisole halfway revealing a part of my breasts. His eyes couldn’t help taking a peek at what was hidden for too long. When he looked up at me again, his eyes danced with approval.

Did he honestly think I was doing all this because I felt obligated to pay a silly bet? Ok, it’s really not a silly bet, I honestly did think Gators would win, but, honestly, how could he think that? After all these months of chatting, and conspiring lustful threads together, he should know by now how I really feel about him. I’ve made it clear to him. I found him intelligent, smart, quick witted, handsome, and sexy as hell. I was attracted to his stories and poems in the beginning, but after getting to know Miltone personally through IM’s, I knew he was special and I wanted to meet him. And, when he suggested this bet, well, I had to jump at the opportunity…

“Hhhmmm…oh, don’t worry about it, I’m not doing this because I feel obligated to you. You know I like you, Miltone. A lot.”

I told him as my eyes gazed hard at him letting him know I really meant every bit of it, especially the last part. His hands trailed to my back, his arms locked me into a tight embrace pulling me down for a kiss. With open mouths, our tongues rolled into a slow dance.

The combination of the thick bourbon and Miltone was making me drunk. The room was spinning. Soon, the bourbon was gone, and it was just Miltone. My body swelled with desire as my body slithered against his. I can feel his cock lengthening and hardening against my hips. The heat emitting through the jeans drove me crazy. Our kiss grew rapidly with urgency. Our mouths were open wide as our tongues explored every part of each other’s mouth. His hands wedged between us. I lifted my body slightly allowing his hands to explore my breasts. His hands cupped, squeezed breasts and tweaked my nipples. My hips couldn’t help grinding down and rubbing against his cock as it strained against the jeans. Finally I couldn’t take it any longer. My lips twisted off of his and I threw my head back in time to release an animalistic moan.

I sat straight up on his hips and cock. My hands pulled the camisole over my head and threw it across the room. Miltone smiled at me appreciatively, his eyes gazed lovingly at the way my breasts were glowing with desire and my nipples were begging to be sucked. He sat up and took my left nipple between his lips…

 

[Miltone]

Her firm breasts fit my hands perfectly as if they had been made for them. I could feel her mound grinding against my thickening cock as my lips covered her nipple, kissing it and sucking it deep into my mouth where my teeth could graze upon the puckered areola and the tip of my tongue could dance upon the tip of her breast. Her hips were straddling mine, her hands were set upon the armrest, and her body was suspended above me placing her breasts right where they needed to be, right where I could lavish my attention upon them.

The words of her confession had ignited me greatly and I hummed in appreciation as I kissed her soft and most tender skin. The buzz seemed to incite her to rub more firmly against me. I drew circles around her breasts with my tongue, delighting in the sweet natural taste of her smooth skin. I had had a crush on her for months now, ever since I had first read one of her threads. I loved the warm intelligence, the cool sense of humor, and the hot sexuality of her writing and had jumped outside myself when one evening she sent me a PM asking if I’d want to write with her sometime. And as we began to write together, we became friends, chatting more often, even threatening to talk on the phone sometime. It wasn’t until the holidays approached and the college bowl schedule was finalized, pitting her Gators against my Wolverines, that the thought of meeting her struck my mind. What to bet? Money wasn’t sufficient to cover the pride we both felt for our alma maters. When I suggested the meeting with the spoils falling to the winner, she had readily accepted. Like most smart women, perhaps she had known something all along that I hadn’t.

As my kisses and touches grew more heated, I began to sit up with Chanaud sort of sitting upon my lap. Her fingers were raking against my body as I continued to kiss and suckle her perfect tits. She pushed her hands up underneath my U of M sweatshirt, then under my golf shirt sending tingles through my body at the insistent touch of her warm hands. Pulling at my shirts, she tugged them both up and off over my head, tossing them over the back of the couch.

As her hands moved all over my bare chest and back and my hands slipped around behind her, our lips met again in a mad passionate kiss that a few hours before I never would have expected. I laid her back against the other end of the couch, her legs stretching out on either side of me, and admired the glow of arousal coloring her cheeks, her neck, and her breasts. I let my fingertips trail down all over her body, over her neck and shoulders and arms, her breasts and abdomen and hips.

“You are sooo beautiful,” I said admiringly as my hands explored the wonderful curves and lines of her long trim body. “To be honest, I’m not really here because of our little wager, Chanaud. That was more of a ruse, a way of getting to meet you. And now that I’m here, you should know that I’m not disappointed in any way. I’m glad this happened … very, very glad!”

My fingers were gliding over the waist of the thin silk blue tap pants with the maize trim. Looking down it was easy to see the triangular outline of the little g-string and the embroidered block M that covered her mound. I could even see the cleft of her sex and could sense the warmth and dampness that lay beneath, which made my mouth water and my tongue come out to lick my lips.

“You know that I’ve been attracted to you from the very start, Chanaud. I wouldn’t have come all this way just for a bet. I really came for you.”

When I began to tug at the waist of the pants, she raised her long legs up so that I could pull them off her. I guided her legs up over my shoulders and let my hands run down the length of them, exploring her silky smooth calves and creamy thighs. I glanced to her face, noting the heavy lidded eyes and the warm blush on her cheeks.

“You know what I’m thinking?” I asked without expecting an answer. “I’m thinking that I’m just a little bit hungry. Do you know of a place where a guy from Michigan can get something good to eat?”

Her eyes flickered from side to side and her mouth curled into a gorgeously sexy smile. Chanaud arched her hips upward toward me, pulling the thin silk panty tight against her mound. As my fingertips drifted near the tops of her thighs, they flirted with the edges of the tiny silk panel.

“You know, something warm and juicy and reeeeaaaaal … tasty,” I whispered, our eyes locking up each other’s.

She reached up and grabbed my head with both hands and moved it so that I was looking right at the split of her legs where my hands were playing with the elastic of her panty. I smiled and began to tug the flimsy little garment away from her pussy.

“Hmm, and what do we have here?” I teased in a soft inquiring voice as I pulled the g-string along her legs and off. I twirled it around my finger and brought it to my nose for a deep sniff of her scent. “Mmm-mmm! Smells delicious!” She giggled and I tossed the g-string aside and lowered my face slowly down between her legs, kissing them as I went. When I reached near her pussy, I looked up at her face and smiled. “Hmm, looks like you’re just cooking up the very thing that I’m hungry for, don’t you think?”

 

[chanaud]

My legs opened wide offering my all to him. Miltone leaned in to examine my most private parts; the tip of his nose barely touched my labias as he took a powerful sniff. Electric shocks shot through my veins making my body jump up. An involuntary gasp fell from my lips. My desire for him overcame me as my body opened wider on the soft leather couch revealing my labias swelling and beating in anticipation. A shimmer of moisture on my inner thighs revealed just how much I desired him and wanted him to continue.

“Hungry? If you’re hungry, why don’t you try something I’ve concocted just for you, Miltone.”

My lazy smile met his dancing green eyes. I wanted more than anything for Miltone’s mouth on my pussy. He has bragged to me about a thread he started a long while back about his stamina to torture women with his tongue. Ever since, I’ve imagined, dreamed, and even masturbated to the very thought of Miltone torturing me with his tongue, mouth, and even teeth for hours on end until I scream out for his cock or until I died with sheer exhaustion. Now the time has come. My dreams is about to come true. Miltone’s face was between my legs and his mouth so near….

“Fuck! I can’t take your teasing anymore, Miltone. I want you now….”

The urgency in my voice was clearly noted. My hands grasped his soft blonde hair and pulled his head down to me.

Miltone’s tongue dove in, licking me from the tip of my clit down the narrow passage, stopping at the center to scoop up the excess moisture and all the way down the whole length to my ass. A gasp followed by a guttural moan echoed in the air. My spine arched lifting my ass off the couch and making myself readily accessible for Miltone again. Miltone answered me with a moan of his own telling me how good I tasted. I grabbed the back of his hair and pulled him up. I wanted to show him what he was doing to me before he dove down again.

“Ohhhh Miltoooone…”

My voice heavy with desire cried out in the cool night air..

 

[Miltone]

I heard Chanaud’s voice urgently calling out to me; I tasted the warm sweet nectar from her delicate pretty little pussy; I felt her moving frantically against my mouth and tongue; I could smell her sharp arousal; and I backed up for a moment to look at this pretty woman spread open, writhing with desire … for me. This entire night had almost been like a dream come true, to fly down all this way on little more than a lark, and yet to fall into a free and easy friendship with a sexy woman whom I felt that I had known for years. And now as our evening together was escalating well beyond our original intentions I felt like I was floating on a warm cloud of passion.

There comes a time in everyone’s life, sometime more than once, when all of the things you say, whether bald-faced exaggerations or pure simple truths, come home to roost, and you have no choice but to face the music and dance. All my life I had been a poor liar, unable to hold a straight face during the friendliest of poker games, always knowing that no matter how imbued with verisimilitude my concocted story, I would be found out. I had listened in awe as other guys in locker rooms had bragged of fantastic conquests, and then later split a gut when hearing the truth about what had actually occurred. So to be successful with pleasing a woman, I learned two things from this: always be honest, and when conversations turned sexual, listen closely and learn.

When only a callow youth, I had reaped the benefits of this strategy—which really wasn’t a strategy at all, for it had become my mantra, listening and talking honestly. There had been Mrs. Lester, my best friend’s step mother, Professor Massilinquo in college, and of course Heather, the daughter of my first real boss (a lot of listening and learning there, my friend). I had learned a lot over the years and was never shy about putting that knowledge to good use when the right lady came along. Most were ecstatic when confronted with a partner who preferred the textured dynamic of extended foreplay and making love for hours to simple few minutes of hard fucking. I recalled mentioning the Two-Hour Torture Method to Chanaud, and on this crisp winter evening on Florida’s southwestern coast, there was something of a reputation to uphold, and I did so gladly.

I glanced up over the undulating curves of Lady Chanaud reclining on the supple leather of her couch, her long legs spread and draped sexily over my shoulders, her back arching to raise up her hips, her hands resting on my head, fingers woven into my hair, guiding me to where she wanted me. I licked my lips and took a long slow deep breath. Mmm, baby! This is going to be one wild ride!

Responding to the beautiful sight before me and acting as much on instinct as on anything else, I lowered my mouth down to her pussy, spreading open for me like a dewy pink rose on a sunny summer morning. I let the tip of my tongue graze lightly all the way down along her moist sex, from top to bottom and then farther. Spreading it wide, I dragged my tongue back up slowly, letting the tip probe into her warm wet entrance and twirl just a moment. When I reached the top, I circled her clit tenderly and covered her sensitive nub with my lips. Up and down I wiggled and worked my tongue, feeling along the smooth outer labia, tasting the moist inner ridges, and alternately teasing her hard clit and wet opening.

“Oh, Chanaud … you taste sooo sweet, Baby!”

Her succulent taste made me hum with desire and the buzz carried through my tongue and seemed to set Chanaud on fire. Her fingers dug into my scalp, her hips rocked wildly and ground her pussy into my face, her heels dug into my back, her thighs squeezed against my cheeks, her voice cried out to me.

“Ohhhh Miltoooone … Oh, fuck … yes! yes! Yes!”

My tongue lapped at her madly, drawing endless figure eights around her clit and the entrance to her pussy, then writing my name all over her teeming wetness in every alphabet that I knew. But as my lips closed tighter around her clit, sucking her up inside my mouth, letting my teeth graze lightly over her hard little nub, and my fingers began to probe inside her, twisting and turning as they explored her wet satiny walls, I could feel her body tense up, ready to explode.

“You like this, Baby?” I asked raising my head from her for just a moment. “There’s more where this came from.”

“Don’t … stop … don’t … stop!” she cried out, her body writhing and wriggling wildly.

And I didn’t stop. Time and place and setting didn’t seem to matter now. All that concerned me was the pretty woman who had opened herself to me so appealingly and appetizingly, whose one passion seemed to ignite my own. So I buried my face hungrily into her wetness again, using my tongue and lips and teeth and fingers to bring her up to the peak again … and again … and again!

 

[chanaud]

This…Miltone…what he was doing to me, how I was feeling right now was beyond my wildest dreams. Oh, I had imagined Miltine to be wonderful, passionate, and downright sexy, but I had always laughed it off thinking I was being silly. I’ve often scolded myself for being too dreamy. And at numerous occasions, I tried to smother my fantasies by telling myself Miltone couldn’t be that wonderful. But deep back in my mind, I must have known. It was either an intuition, a hunch, chemistry, or maybe I still believed in fate. I just knew. I knew there was something special about Miltone.

Yet even in my wildest imagination, I never thought it would be this fucking fantastic. Miltone was driving me mad with passion. His tongue had a mind of it’s own. Like all the great explorers in the past, Miltone’s tongue explored the new territory leaving no flesh unexplored, conquered my pussy by stabbing continuously into it, and claimed it’s prize by drawing his name on me.

I couldn’t contain myself as I writhed and moaned under his assault. My fingers curled his blonde locks and twisted hard as his mouth covered my clit. When his teeth bit it and sucked it deep into his mouth, pins and needles shot through me forcing screams of ecstasy from my lips . My soft inner thighs muffled the sound of my moans of passion. Though caught in a tight embrace by my legs, Miltone continued his assault abetted by his fingers.

“Oh yessssss!! Oohhhhh…Miltone, yesssss… Oh my Goooooood, Miltone!”

One finger plunged into my pussy. Then two. I was screaming at the top of my lungs. His fingers explored my wet canal. A damn broke and soaked his hand. My feels dug into his back as I bucked wildly on his fingers.

“Yessssssssssss….Oh yesssss…...Yesssssssss!”

Heaven and hell heard my screams of passion. My mind and my body was writhing, writhing, writhing…..

“I’m going to cummmmmm…Oohhhhhhhhh Miiiiiiiiiiltooooooonnneeee”

 

[Miltone]

Boosting her ass up from the supple leather of the couch, her legs twisted like a pretzel around my head and shoulders, I felt the tremors of orgasm sweep through Chanaud’s body as she thrust her pussy into my face. Wildcat … isn’t that what the old fucks used to call a woman who really … I mean, REALLY, got into the act. I knew I was in the presence of such a woman, this spontaneous free-spirit spread before me whose voice was calling out to me, telling me how much she was into what we were doing. Damn! What a turn-on!

I had been with moaners and groaners, sighers and whiners, cheerleaders who told me what to give them (and it wasn’t always the old Sis-Boom-Bah!), and screamers and shouters. Of course there has always been the occasional one who just sort of laid there silently and always left me wondering if it was good, bad, or just so-so. But this was a completely different experience. Chanaud had told me she got pretty vocal when she got going, but this was amazing! There was nothing made up or fake about this, it was her complete uncensored response to my loving attentions.

“I want a cock in my mouth,” she called out as she sat up suddenly. “I want your cock, Miltone! Now!”

Was it a demand or just a simple request? But she gave me little time to think it over, pushing me onto my back and pulling open the button of my Levis and yanking the zipper down. Her naked body was flushed and alive as she pulled my jeans down from my hips. My topsiders went flying as did my jeans and her hands flew to my boxer briefs, her fingers running over the soft cotton, tracing the outline of the bulge that lay beneath.

“Come on, Miltone! I want the good stuff!” Chanaud said, her voice thick with lust. Her fingers curled around the waistband of the briefs and tugged them down urgently. My erect cock flopped out and up onto my belly as she pulled my shorts down and away. “So this is what you’ve been hiding on me,” she teased as she licked her lips and ran her hands up to grasp my rigid manhood. Her long fingers curled around my cock as she brought her mouth down close to me. I could feel the warmth of her breath on me. “You know something, Miltone,” she sighed, her voice almost a whisper, her words drawn out. “I … luuuuv … suuuucking … cock!”

 

[chanaud]

Miltone gazed down at me with a proud smile. And judging from his size, he had a right to be. His cock was long, and thick. It’s bulbous head was glistening in the night air. My tongue snaked around my lips lasciviously. Miltone trembled at the anticipation.

“I vaguely remember you telling me that.” He responded, his voice husky.

“Hhmmm…well let show you how much I love to suck cock, your cock.” I answered as my tongue swept up the glistening tip. His precum tasted wonderful, I was hungry for more.

My hands cupped his balls, and lifted them below my chin. My tongue swept the whole length of the underside, the sides and then the top, taking special care of each pulsating vein and leaving no flesh dry. Right before my tongue reached the tip, I looked up at Miltone with large brown eyes, and met his blue ones clouded with lust. I wanted him to watch his cock disappear into my mouth.

My lips wrapped around his head, and kissed it. Then slowly, very slowly, one millimeter after millimeter, I took his cock into the depths of my mouth. Miltone threw his head back, and released a long, guttural moan. His hands curled into my hair and nudged the back of my head. When his bulbous head hit the back of my throat, it released a low vibrating mouth from deep inside my stomach. My hands snaked around his ass and held him there, while my mouth acted like a warm cocoon.

After a few long seconds, I started sucking him slowly. Miltone gasped aloud. Just when he was getting used to the sensation, I released him one millimeter at a time. Miltone glanced down and watched his cock appear again, only this time shiny with my saliva.

“Do you like being buried in my mouth?” I asked him innocently. His stiff cock was standing stiff, his head poised on my lips.

“Yesssss..” Miltone answered.

“Good.”

With that, in one swift move, I had his cock buried in my mouth again.

 

[Miltone]

My head was thrown back again by the impact of what Chanaud was doing to me, to my cock. It might have stayed there had I not had this intense desire to watch her doing me. And damn! Was she ever doing me! Whether you’re watching a concert or a Broadway show or a sporting event, it’s always a special treat when the performer is having a good time and truly enjoys what they are doing. And this was what I felt as Chanaud began to slide my cock in and out of her mouth, slowly and deliberately drawing a series of growls from me, the likes of which had never been heard.

“Oh, fuck, Baby!” I swore loudly, succumbing to a powerful flurry of sensations shooting from my groin through my entire body. “Oh, god, yesssss … suck my cock, Chanaud … just like that … fuuuuuuuck!!”

She seemed to know exactly what I wanted and how I wanted it, from the way she sucked me inside her hot wet mouth, to the way her tongue slid along my shaft, to the way she pulled her mouth almost all the way off me before swirling her lips and tongue back and forth on the head making my hips thrust and quiver uncontrollably. I combed the fingers of both hands into her hair as her head twisted back and forth several times then plunged back down taking almost all of me deep into her mouth. What part didn’t fit inside her felt her fingers grip it snuggly, her other hand cradling my balls.

“Mmm … mmm … mmm … mmm!” she moaned as her head bobbed up and down on me, almost sucking my ass up off the couch.

The only sounds I could make were animalistic groans and growls and grunts; my hands were riding on her head as it bobbed up and down wildly; my back arched and my hips bucked beneath her. Every so often she’d drag her head up all the way and let my dick slip out of her mouth with a delightful slurpy popping sound. Then she’d raise her trim body up, her jiggling breasts and hard nipples pointing at me, toss her head back sending her hair behind her back, give her lips a quick tour with her tongue and lower herself down again. Maybe her tongue would glide up and down my rigid shaft, maybe it would lap at my sack below, but all the while her hands were plying their magic on me, making me longer and harder than I could recall in a long, long time.

“You want some more … Miltone?” she asked saucily, her eyes on fire with a passion I could see burning deep inside her. I had often entertained the idea of a meeting like this with her, especially late at night, but I had never thought that it would come to pass and turn out to be so amazing. “Hhmmm, big boy? Still don’t believe I love to … sssssssuck cock?” Chanaud smiled, flicked her tongue at me, then lowered her trim body back down, letting her mouth take the place of her hands, sucking me deeper inside her than before.

She shifted her position just a bit and gripped my hips tightly, sucking me deep into her mouth and beyond. I saw her lips meet the sparse patch of pubic hair I leave on top and felt my cock move down her throat. Oh, god, I was in heaven on this beautiful south Florida evening, and in a few moments I felt my body begin to respond in kind, my balls rising up hard against my body ready to release. I struggled to find her head with my hands and slow her down.

“Oh, god, Chanaud, I believe you! Baby, I believe you!” I cried out as she lifted her head up from my fully engorged cock, looking a little disappointed. “But I’m not ready to cum yet, ok?”

“But I thought I’d …” she began but I interrupted her.

“Not just yet, Baby,” I said sitting up on the couch facing her, one hand on her cheek and the other on her shoulder. “I just want to take this big old thing you’ve given me and stuff it into that sweet little thing I was tasting a little bit ago.”

Her face warmed into a flushed smile and she leaned back, letting me slip in between her long lean legs. I took my cock and rubbed the head on her wet slit, up and down several times, circled her clit, then traced the path back down to her entrance. Her body yielded a shiver as she grabbed my shoulders and pulled me toward her.

“Don’t tease me any more, Miltone!” she pleaded. “Take me … take me all the way!”

“Mmm, yeah, Baby!” I moaned and thrust my hips forward feeling the head of my cock spread her labia and push inside the warmth and wetness of her pussy.

“Oh, fuck!” she cried out. “That feels soooooo goooooood!”

 

[chanaud]

The cock that was held captive in my mouth just a minute ago had found its newfound freedom and took command as it danced erotic figures along my slit. With my head thrown back, my eyes rolled back in pure ecstasy as Miltone stretched my walls slowly….slowly…..

“Ooooohhhhhhhh..”

I couldn’t help moaning out as he filled me.

The earth stopped rotating as we lay there immobilized and just gazed in each other’s lust filled eyes. My arms were hugged him to me making his body lay heavy. The walls of my pussy were contracting on his cock as it adjusted to its size. The tip of Miltone’s cock twitched a few times stretching my walls preparing me of what was about to come. Our bodies rocked slowly. My pussy was dripping wet making it easy for him. I smiled at Miltone, a knowing smile. This was it. This is what I’ve fantasized over many nights.

Miltone brushed the hairs from my face before leaning in to kiss me. I opened my lips wider and moaned again when his tongue slipped into my mouth.

“Do you know what I want, Miltone?”

“Hmmm.” Miltone responded with a half moan and a twitch from his cock.

My hands cupped his face and kissed him passionately again.

“I want you to fuck me…hard”

A groan spilled from Miltone’s lips.

“Since the lady asked so nicely, the lady shall receive…”

With that Miltone lifted his body off me and onto his knees. He grabbed my ankles and threw them over his shoulders. My hips lifted automatically. With his hands wrapped around my ankles, Miltone plunged…. in…and….out….in….out…

“Is…this….what…you….want….”

“Yess…yesss….harder…yessss…”

I couldn’t help crying. “Harder!”

On command, Miltone turned into a bucking machine. He plunged into my pussy and grinded his hips ruthlessly making me scream out in ecstasy. Then he pulled out making me feel his full length rubbing against every pulsating veins before plunging in harder and faster…harder….faster…

With a guttural moan, he asked. “Is…this…better…?”
“Yessss…oh my gawd…yesssss!”

My pussy clenched his cock in assurance. Miltone responded with a moan, yet continued. I grabbed his hips to help him. My breasts were standing tall, my sharp nipples staring at the ceiling. Miltone’s glazed eyes were staring down at them while his tongue moistened his lips lasciviously.

“Ooohhhh…Miltone…let me turn over.”

Without giving him an opportunity to respond, I kicked him away. In a short second, my ass was high in the air; my gaping hole glistening with fresh juices was waiting for Miltone…