Yankee Girls Aren't So Bad

Yankee Girls Aren't So Bad Yankee Girls Aren't So Bad

Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica

Summary

One never knows when one will encounter someone who comes as a surprise or who surprisingly comes.

Summary

One never knows when one will encounter someone who comes as a surprise or who surprisingly comes.

Content

Submitted: August 19, 2018

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Content

Submitted: August 19, 2018

A A A

A A A


Yankee Girls Aren’t So Bad

I recently took a week away, partially for work and partially for vacation. During the work portion, I stayed at the Embassy Suites Hotel in Indianapolis. Since I’m not particularly fond of the quality of the complimentary breakfast, I went downstairs to the street level to eat at Panera Bread.

As I was eating my breakfast, five girls sat down at a table nearby. I estimated their age range from 20 to 24, although one girl in particular seemed a little older. She had jet black hair, down to her shoulders, dark brown eyes, a fair complexion and bright red lipstick on a very small, “pouty” sexy mouth. She was dressed quite fashionably, while the other girls were dressed very casually.

I finished and left Panera and went back to the hotel to check emails and browse on the house computers. When I finished, I decided to walk downtown to buy some shirts, but I saw the pretty dark haired girl waiting for the elevator.

Drawing on a little bit of my southern charm, I approached her but kept far enough away so I would not frighten her. “Excuse me, ma’am” I began, “But I saw you at breakfast downstairs this morning. I just wanted to tell you how attractive you are. Are you a model, perhaps?”

She stepped closer to the elevator door and shut me down like a fire in a trash basket. “No, and is that supposed to be a clever pick up line? Because it’s not working.” She said with a disgusted look on her face.

Undaunted by her harsh reply, I simply smiled and said, “Actually, it was not; I was merely trying to pay you a compliment. You dress well, the contrast between your dark hair and your fair complexion is worthy of a magazine cover, and you have very photogenic facial features. I apologize if I offended you. Enjoy your day.”

I turned and walked away before she could respond; I didn’t feel there was a need for further conversation. I went down the escalator to the street level and walked two blocks down Illinois Street. The store I was looking for, Jos. A. Banks, had closed but had been replaced by a men’s store with similar quality clothing.

Two shirts, and fifteen minutes later I was $218 poorer. I walked back to the hotel and went to the bar located in the lobby. I ordered a drink and a few minutes later I was sitting comfortably scanning the front page of the WSJ when I noticed a figure approaching my table.

Yep, you guessed it; the dark haired girl. I set the newspaper down and smiled up at her. “Hello.” I said. (When you’re as charming as I am, there’s no need for extended conversation sometimes.)

She pulled a chair out, asking, “May I?” and being the gentleman that I am, I said “Of course, please.” I had no idea why she decided to speak to me, but I was open for possibilities.

“I want to apologize for being so rude this morning,” she said softly when she sat down. I was mesmerized by how those tiny tight little lips formed words so easily. Already in the back of my mind I realized that, if she asked, I would pay her to just let me stick my dick in her mouth, just once, to see those red lips wrapped around…..(oops, sorry, got carried away there.).

“So, let’s start over, okay?” she asked. “I’m Shawna Browning, I’m a nurse, I live in Chicago and I’m in town for a friend’s wedding; I’m going to be her Maid of Honor. Those girls you saw with me this morning are her bride’s maids. And you are?”

“I’m Ben Jameson, I’m a Retail Specialist, and I’m here to meet with clients for new assignments. I’m from Alabama, and I’ve never been a bride’s maid.”

She laughed, which I took as a little stress relief. “I thought I noticed a slight southern accent this morning” she said. “By the way, my aunt used to be a professional model and she gave me some tips on make up, so I’m glad it helps, and thank you for your compliment. I thought you were just trying to hit on me or something.”

“You know, it’s amazing how beautiful girls can see right through my flimsy pick-up lines; I’m going to have to find some new ones,” I said, smiling as big as I could. She laughed again and we talked for about twenty minutes. She told me about her friend and the wedding. She asked and I explained the nature of my work how much I like golf.

She asked if I had any other hobbies and I bluntly said, “Just sex. I really like sex. Sex is fun, and it’s therapeutic, did you know that?”

“No, I did not and you’re pulling my leg on that one,” she said, although with a nice grin.

“Yes, it IS therapeutic, especially if someone pulls on your leg just right,” I replied. (Can you see where I’m going with this? You have to admire at least my gumption, right?) She laughed some more and I knew we were going to have a good time.

“So, you think that some therapy would make me feel better for being rude to you, is that what you’re implying?” she asked.

“Actually I was thinking that some activity involving your legs, which are gorgeous, by the way, might make us both feel better, if you would consider letting a stranger play with your legs.” (Might as well jump right out there, right?)

“I’m sure that a southern gentleman like you would be gentle with my legs, wouldn’t you, Mr. Jameson?” she asked. There was a hint of movement in my dress pants as I just smiled and nodded. Let her take the initiative. And she did.

“Would you like to continue our conversation upstairs in my room?” she asked. “It might be more comfortable.”

“That would be a pleasure, for both of us, Miss Browning.” I replied. Suddenly the WSJ didn’t seem very entertaining.

She had a standard king size room, the same as I did. There is a small living area in front with a desk and chair, then a hall to the bedroom in the back. The bathroom is off the hall. As soon as we got inside, she put her hands on my chest, slid them under the lapels of my sports coat and slid it off my shoulders. So much for formalities. I tossed the coat on the chair by the desk as she kicked off her shoes.

“Let’s get comfortable so we can continue our conversation,” she said as she took my hand and literally led me to the bedroom. (I love an aggressive woman; how did she know that?)

I tried to hold and kiss her and although she was receptive, her hands worked on my tie until it came off. There was an ironing board set up by the window and she tossed the tie on it. “I’ll race you to get naked,” she said. This girl is fun! I love her idea of conversation.

She unbuttoned and removed her blouse and I tried to match her, finally shedding my shirt. We both managed to get out of our pants quickly, although my shoes took longer to get off than hers. She popped off her bra and said, “I like being on top but we can play a little first if you want.”

I slid by briefs off and then slid my arms under hers and lifted her, sitting her on the edge of the bed. Her hand found my cock and she seemed pleased with it. “I love feeling how hard a man can get, it’s exciting to feel it grow in my hand.”

I let her enjoy the evolvement of what I would consider was an adequate erection in her soft grasp, then I pushed her shoulders down onto the bed and started working on her breasts. Her legs dangled off the bed as I licked and sucked on her nipples. She didn’t seem overly impressed with my efforts but she did utter “Mmmm…..mmmm…” a few times while I entertained myself.

As I stood up again between her legs, I pulled them to rest against my chest. I tugged her panties off her hips and then off the lengths of her legs, taking notice of what fine legs they were.

With my hands under her knees, I pushed her legs apart and got down on one knee at the end of the bed. When I started kissing her inner thighs, she warmed up; the “mmm…” turned to “oh…yeah…”

She was already warmed up and ready to go. I tongued her pussy and it was like syrup on my tongue, sticky and sweet. I took advantage of her patience and enjoyed my favorite activity and she became more vocal. “Oh, my God, I think I’m going to come….” Music to my ears.

I slid my hands under her ass and pulled her tightly against my face as I sucked on her clit. “Oh, God, oh, yeah, I’m going to come!” she moaned. Her legs hooked over my shoulders and I drove my tongue inside her again and then swirled it around her clit. I looked up to see her squeezing her breasts with her hands.

Her eyes were closed and those sexy little lips were frozen in an “O” as her breath came in gasps. I was so hot that I wanted to climb up there and rape her mouth, but there was a plan already in motion. When she yelled, “I’m coming; oh, my God, I’m really coming!” I doubled my efforts, squeezing that fine ass in my hands.

Her body shivered against my mouth and my cock roared to attention. When she finally went limp, I stood again, holding her legs up again and I pressed my cock against her slit, tapping her clit with it. (Ready or not, girl, here it comes.) But she scrambled up on the bed. “Wait! Lie down on the bed and let me get on top,” she asked.

When I did, she straddled me and mounted me like a good girl, and slowly eased down over my shaft. “I like it slow for a while, and since we don’t have a condom, don’t come inside me, okay? Just tell me when you’re ready to shoot.”

It was pure torture and pleasure at first because she slid up and down so slowly, leaning forward with her palms flat on my chest, obviously enjoying the feel of my throbbing cock inside her. Just when I was about to ask, she increased her pace and I let my self-restraint go.

When I groaned and let her know I was going to come, she disengaged quickly, sitting on my upper thighs. She pumped my shaft with one hand while the cupped the other one over the tip. Cum gushed onto her palm and fingers. She laced fingers of both hands together and wrapped them around my cock, stroking with both hands.

She caught each wave of cum and coated my cock as her hands kept going from the tip to the base. Her touch was very knowing; not too firm and not too gentle. When I was spent, I looked at her, still gently stroking and playing with my cum. “I love the smell and feeling it all over my fingers,” she said. Works for me, girl.

She slipped off the bed and went to the bathroom. I heard water running and a couple minutes later she brought me a wet wash cloth and a hand towel. By the time I had cleaned up, she was almost completely dressed again. This was new to me.

“I have to meet the other girls for a rehearsal in a couple hours, but I’m famished! Are you free for lunch?” she asked.

“Sure; I’ll be ready in a flash.” I answered.

“Great! Then I’ll fix my hair and makeup while you get dressed,” she said.

We walked a couple blocks down Washington and had lunch at the Rock Bottom Brewery. We had a nice conversation over lunch, and I hinted at getting back together later but she had plans involving the wedding rehearsal and rehearsal dinner.

So back at the hotel lobby, she shook my hand, told me that she had a great time, thanked me for lunch, and we went our separate ways. But I was impressed that even Yankee girls can show some southern hospitality.

 

 


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