Happy Hour part 3
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Publié :9/6/2018 9h49
Dernière mise à jour :19/6/2018 13h44 4158 vues
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What happened next was fast and furious and left me in a crumpled heap, oozing cum like a saturated sponge. The first two Uber drivers wouldn’t let me get in their cars, so I had to offer a special tip to the third to get a ride home.
But I digress.
Balancing on my toes in a squatting position, with my hands securely grasping both of his ass cheeks, I found my rhythm, pulling him deeper into my throat with each thrust of his hips. He was long and thick. My neck bulged with each plunging stroke, completely cutting of my air supply. But my timing was good enough that I could breathe.
Until he bucked hard into my throat and held my head from behind, pinning me to his pelvis, his cock acting like a stopper in a wine bottle. Starved for air, I felt blackness closing in as my consciousness began swirling down the drain.
Frantically I pulled at his ass cheeks and slapped at his chest. But he held my head firmly. Only a pin hole of light remained as my mind surrendered to the blackness of unconsciousness. My arms fell to my sides in exhaustion and resignation to my fate.
Someone behind me pulled me up by my hips like a hinge, now bent at the waist, my throat securely sealed by the cock buried in my mouth, my trembling legs barely able to support my weight, my oxygen starved mind was about to give in, inevitably sending me crashing to the ground.
My swollen and slippery pussy lips, advertised my state of arousal, and offered no resistance to the giant cock aimed at my opening, that pushed into me from behind in one continuous motion, stopping only when his pubic bone crashed into my ass. With my awareness dimming, the sensation was intensified and my orgasm was immediate, my body shuddering, almost convulsing with pleasure and release. My knees buckled.
Blackness followed, covering my mind like a blanket and I was out.
I awoke to slaps across my face, spittle sputtering from my lips, as I slurped in air around the cock that sat on my tongue like a giant straw, the fog lifting enough to assess my surroundings. I had no idea how long I had been out.
I was still bent at the waist, a cock pushing into my mouth in rhythmic strokes, not as deeply, so I could breathe easily, it seemed stubbier and not as thick as before. The pounding of my pussy from behind forced me forward jamming my nose into a wry thatch of pubic hair. I could taste cum in my mouth and feel its viscous strings drooling from the corners of my mouth and swinging from my chin in long strands. Someone had already dumped his load and I could sense from the increasingly urgent cadence in my mouth now, that another would be added soon enough.
Fingernails dug into the creases of my hips as the cock in my pussy bore its way to its maximum depth. Hot surges of goo filled me as the uncontrolled, instinctual thrusts slammed into me, delivering its load. I felt him withdraw his softening cock from my stretched hole, dragging with it gobs of cum, which he smeared across my pussy up to my asshole, using his cock like a paint brush, glazing my openings like two donuts. That was a lot of cum for one guy, I thought to myself.
Another cock quickly filled the vacancy. This guy was taller than the last because the angle of his penetration rammed a different spot in my pussy.
Before I passed out I felt three different cocks, so maybe my kisser-guy found us after all. He pounded me like a teenager, fast and deep, the squishing and slapping noises filling the alley, as our genitals repeatedly collided.
The cock in my mouth was growing hotter on my tongue and swelling in size, he was about to make his deposit, so I pulled him into mouth and tickled the underside of his cock with my tongue. He erupted in three heavy squirts, into the back of my throat. I tightened my lips around his departing cock, cleaning his stem from root to tip.
As he zipped up his shorts and began to turn for the street a few yards away, I looked over my shoulder in time to see the contorted face of a teenager on the verge of orgasm. He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me backwards onto his spasming cock, creaming jets of his goo into my overflowing pussy, his girth and length displacing the pool of cum inside me, forcing it out in a bubbling ring between the seal of my pussy and the teen’s thrusting cock.
He almost rammed my head into the wall he came so hard. He collapsed on to my back, blanketing my body with his sweaty torso, breathing heavily, his cock remaining as hard as it was before his orgasm. Oh the joys of youth. His arms wrapped around me and roughly squeezed my breasts, in a modified bear hug, occasionally tweaking my nipples, announcing his intention to begin again soon. I felt his hot breath on my neck and ear.
Our faces were close enough to kiss but the notion of kissing a man young enough to be my son while his prick throbbed inside me was hard to reconcile.
Another man passed by from behind the teen draped on my back with his cock in hand, stroking it intently. Before he grabbed my face by the chin to turn it to accept his cock, I saw a line of men that extended into the darkness.
Next in line was the male half of the couple we met for drinks and farther back was my hubby.
Evidently the bartender was serving more than liquor that night.
I had to Uber home because my hubby told me he didn’t want to mess up the leather seats of his Audi.
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Happy Hour part 2
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Publié :7/6/2018 15h05
Dernière mise à jour :11/6/2018 12h10 3939 vues
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My mouth agape and my eyes peeled back widely, as I instantly assessed my situation, albeit through a thickening fog of inebriation, four quick shots of Tequila on an empty stomach, flooding my veins with judgement impairing juice.
The man who snuggled up against me as I sat at the bar, slyly cupping my breast with one hand while working his other hand under the hem of my sundress, was not my husband.
I scanned my recent memory for clues, I just left my hubby and our friends at a table a few tables away from the bar. How did I end up seated at the bar with a stranger’s index finger tracing the outline of my pussy hole under my dress.
My eyes raced around the bar looking for them. I located the table where I thought we were sitting but it was filled with a bunch of middle-aged former jocks guzzling beer, and they had been there awhile.
I felt like I was having an out of body experience, sitting on the bar, watching myself frozen in the embrace of a stranger, being fingered and groped without questioning or resisting.
My face was turned toward him, over my shoulder, our noses jousting playfully, my lips unconsciously parted in confusion, as I looked for my hubby and our friends.
Then his tongue unexpectedly stabbed into my mouth, prying open my jaw, just as his hand released its grasp of my left breast and palmed the back of my head like a basketball, forcing our lips together in a tight seal, jamming his tongue into me, probing my soft warm mouth. His abruptness caught me between breaths and I suddenly felt lightheaded from lack of air, or maybe it was the Tequila coursing through my veins, I couldn’t tell.
As our tongues played cat and mouth between our sealed lips, his index finger pushed into my slickening pussy while his thumb kneaded my pleasure button.
My response was instant and instinctual, I sucked on his tongue, raking it with my teeth. The heat between us was chemical and an explosion was imminent.
I spun around on my bar stool and pulled him in between my open legs, giving his fingers better access while hopefully blocking everyone’s view. He pushed in closer. My legs hooked around the back of his thighs. He could’ve penetrated me with his cock had he not been wearing jeans. But he had zipper. And I called to me.
My hand dropped down between us, grabbing at his inflating coil encased by his jeans.
Unexpectedly, I felt someone tapping on my shoulder from behind me. It was the bartender, with an overall disapproving look on his face but wicked glint in his wink, he asked us to either order more drinks or get a room.
I flushed red with embarrassment. The realization that I was making out with a total stranger in a restaurant that I frequent, and I didn’t seem to care that anyone looking knew where his hand was and what he was up to, unleashed a shudder of shame.
Spinning around on my stool to face the bar, my elbows dropped to the bar and my face fell into my open hands to hide my face. What was I doing?
Hearing the heavy clunk of shot glasses hitting the bar in front of me, I lifted my face from my hands, combed my hair back from my face into a loose pony tail, and stared down at the Tequila shots lined up like drunken soldiers.
I looked up at the smiling bartender and pleadingly drew in a breath to decline, when two men, one on either side of me reached in for their shots squeezing me in with them. I exhaled completely.
They took their shots and motioned with a lasso like circling finger, ordering another round. Who were these guys, two new faces, and where did the guy who was kissing me go? Again I scanned the bar for my hubby and my friends and now my anonymous kisser-guy, I guess he’s my date.
With a heavy clunk and clink of shot glasses, more Tequila arrived. I meekly and tentatively pushed my hand away above the bar, announcing that I’d had my fill. Instead, a lime wedge was placed between my teeth and as the empty shock glass hit the bar, forceful lips covered my mouth, sealing the openings between us, Tequila from his mouth mixing with the lime in mine.
I stood up. It was time to go. I would Uber home, if necessary.
I wobbled a bit but two sets of strong hands clenched around biceps, holding me up, almost lifting me off my feet, one of my sandals, dangled from my big toe, the only one touching the floor.
I was floating away from the bar, through the crowd behind us, the bar patrons parting as our threesome walked away three abreast, a waif-like woman between two large men.
I saw a booth by the exit and presumed that was our destination. But we passed it and walked out into the warm humid night air.
At this point, I was a little pissed that I’d been ditched by my hubby and my friends. But I had two new friends with me now, and maybe a third, if he looked outside. So I was content to see what the night had to offer.
We turned at the corner of the restaurant and into a dark walkway between the buildings. As they released me, I felt my full weight on my feet again. We were only a few feet into the shadows but obscured in almost total darkness. I could hear the revelry inside the restaurant through the brick wall and see the comings and goings of passersby on the sidewalk.
I turned toward my new friends and leaned against the bricks, lifting a bent knee and placing the sole of my sandal against the wall, in my best cum-hither pose.
My hem riding up to mid-thigh. I combed my hair back with my fingers, interlacing my fingers and a tangled hair behind my head, my elbows spread wide, hoisting my breasts upward and outward, my thin sundress clinging to my moist perspiring skin. The outline of my hard nipples could be easily seen even in the darkness. My offer was plain and simple.
My invitation was quickly accepted. And the first button of my sundress was quickly undone, followed by the second, then next until I stood before them with my dress parted above my knees.
I kept my hands behind my head and parted my feet widely. Until my arms came down, the straps of my dress would stay on my shoulders.
The first mouth found my naked nipple and sucked it in deeply, nipping at its hardened tip with his teeth. I was so hot for cock that my body involuntarily twisting at the waist, gyrating and beckoning.
When his buddy pulled him away from nipple, I could see his buddy had unzipped his shorts and freed his one-eyed beast. And it looked angry, its skin shiny in its tautness, pulsing and veiny, capped by swelling purple helmet, bobbing and weaving, like a snake.
He stood before me and pushed downward on my shoulders, encouraging me to slide down the wall to meet his cock, eye to eye.
Squatting, my knees wide and pussy lips parted, I still had my hands interlaced behind my head. I was determined to keep my dress on, albeit open all the way down.
His he playfully waved his cock in front of my open mouth like a fishing rod, almost touching my lips, then whipping it away. When I lunged at it, I teetered on my toes, drunk and with my hands behind my head, my balance was soon lost and I fell forward impaling my mouth on his swollen peg with my arms flailing wildly until they found their supportive perch on his ass cheeks.
My straps fell to my elbows and my dress fell to the ground in pile of fabric under my ass.
I was now essentially naked in an alley, deepthroating a total stranger, a few steps from a crowded restaurant, while his buddy watched.
But he wasn’t watching for long. Soon his cock was out of his pants too, as he stroked it to readiness.
My face buried in pubic hair, I blindly grabbed for the second cock, and found it, and a third.
To be continued?
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Happy Hour
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Publié :29/5/2018 18h00
Dernière mise à jour :7/6/2018 12h16 3701 vues
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We agreed to meet for happy hour at a local Mexican place for Margs and chips and salsa. It was a hot and humid day, so frosty beverages seemed a like welcome escape from the heat.
My bra had been sticking to me all day and I was ready to be done with it. So I tossed it in the corner of my closet before retrieving a light cotton sundress with spaghetti straps. My boobs bounced with delight at their newfound freedom. I debated about losing my panties too but my hubby was in a rush so I figured I had the drive to decide.
Half way to the restaurant, I decided that my panties had to go. While stopped at a red light, I hoisted up my hem, hooked my thumbs under the waistband and tugged them off. I felt like the temperature dropped 10 degrees as my steamy pussy felt the blast of AC from the dashboard vents. I just sat there with my dress bunched up around my waist. Without a second thought, I propped my feet up on the dash, spread my knees, and let the cool air rush in.
It wasn’t an invitation but my hubby took it that way and in an instant I felt his index finger probing downward between my pussy lips in search of something moist and familiar. I enjoyed the sensations pulsing outward as his fingers sawed across my clit picking up a little more moisture from my warming pussy hole with each downward stroke. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back into the headrest, gently rolling it from side to side, enjoying my growing arousal.
The horn from an impatient motorist behind us snapped me back into awareness as my hubby also lost in the moment lurched our car forward with an abrupt start.
As we drove on, I pulled my dress out from underneath my butt and smoothed it out across my knees. Again, it wasn’t an invitation but my hubby can’t resist my charms (protruding from my chest), and in one continuous motion, pulled my dress strap off my shoulder and tugged my dress down far enough that my left boob popped out, my nipple instantly hardening like an eraser atop a pencil.
As we pulled into the parking lot, my hubby had my dress top gathered at my waist, alternatingly twisting and tugging at both nipples, back and forth, left and right. It was like he turned on a faucet, my pussy began dripping with self-lube.
Our friends were already at the bar and a couple drinks ahead of us, so to catch up my hubby ordered us a couple of shots of Tequila each. I didn’t even reach for the lime wedge between shots. The fiery liquid burned its way downward into my belly warming me from the inside out. I was already perspiring from the humidity and now sweat was beading on my brow and on my chest between my hanging boobs, before succumbing to gravity’s pull, creating rivulets of perspiration, coursing down the sides of my face, dribbling down my chest between my boobs, and between my shoulder blades, until soaking into my cotton sundress, creating a growing darkening line across where my bare skin meets the top of my dress and circles at the tips of my nipples.
I excused myself to find a fan to cool off and noticed that my thin dress was now clinging to boobs and inexplicably my rock-hard nipples. It felt and looked like a hot flash. I was perspiring like I was running a marathon.
I found an open spot at the bar in front of a big fan, set on high, blowing over the shoulder of the bartender, who handed a napkin, to blot my forehead. My hair began sticking to my jaw but the cooling breeze was beginning to have its effect as were the two quick Tequila shots.
I pulled my hair back from my face, clutching it loosely into a pony tail with my hands, and tilted my head upward, exposing my neck, and closed my eyes letting the fan do its work. I could feel my dress fluttering against the blowing fan, clinging to my upswept boobs. It felt so good.
When I opened my eyes, the grinning bartender had two more shots lined up before me. I gulped them down without hesitation, I didn’t need to guess who ordered them. These two didn’t burn but added to the growing waves of inebriation crashing over my mind, calming me and lowering my already questionable inhibitions. This is when I start making bad decisions.
Behind me, I felt a familiar presence leaning into me as I sat on the barstool. I leaned back. Without turning to greet him, I casually dropped my hand to bottom of the zipper of his shorts and squeezed his growing bulge. My pussy had been tingling since the car ride over and the Tequila shots only focused my diminishing attention on my need for pleasure and release.
Claiming his prize, his left hand slipped under my elbow, between my bicep and ribs, his thumb tracing the crease slightly below my boob, lightly caressing my abs with his spreading fingers, teasing my boob just an inch above. My hand, obscured from view between our bodies, began rubbing and squeezing his swelling cock, its erection straining against his shorts.
Completing his embrace, his right hand came to rest on my hip and began following the downward slope of my upper thigh, delicately gathering the fabric of my dress, and pulling it upward in little bunches, revealing my thigh an inch at time. My pussy was now dripping with anticipation. Thankful that I discarded my panties because there was nothing between his fingers’ steady advance and my slickening opening.
Two more shots appeared before me. As I reached for the first one, I felt him cupping my boob and squeezing and massaging it assertively, rolling my nipple between his index finger and thumb. Jolts of pleasure shot through me. The shot glass trembled in my hand as I lifted it toward my mouth. Tipping head backward, into his shoulder, as I poured the liquid heat down my throat, I felt his other hand race across my thigh and slip under the hem of my dress to find my treasure.
I rolled my face to his to share the taste of the liquor on my tongue with an open-mouthed kiss.
Except he was a stranger to me. To be continued?
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Crossroads
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Publié :27/6/2017 13h43
Dernière mise à jour :6/6/2018 16h06 6714 vues
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We’ve been having a lot of fun, like moths to the flame, we can’t resist our temptations, and we keep pushing the envelope, getting bolder and taking bigger chances.
What started as the occasional flashing of unsuspecting strangers or passersby (in many cases, we were literally the passersby, passing a trucker at a high rate of speed, me with my top off, boobs on display, bouncing wildly as we raced by), has led us to this slippery slope which seems to be getting steeper and slicker by the day.
The first time was an unintentional but monumental, tearing the lid off Pandora’s box, changing our lives forever.
It was late and the motel desk clerk gave us a room on the ground floor, nearer the end of the wing, facing the parking lot, which was dark and quiet, our car was parked in front our room’s door. The room was dark and moonlight was bathing the bed in a blue hue.
I was so tired from the long drive, I just closed my eyes for what seemed like a moment, and drifted away to sleep.
I awoke to see my hubby’s darkened outline in the bathroom doorway, lit from behind by the bathroom light, casting shadows into the darkened motel room. He clicked off the light, plunging the room back into the moonlit hue, and he walked over to my side of the bed, nearest the window, his penis now erect (and clean, yummy), he bent over me, and pushed his cock toward my face.
I obliged him, sucking his manhood into my mouth, and caressing his full balls as I pulled him down by his glutes, pushing his cock deeper down my throat.
Since I was fully dressed, we both struggled to remove my clothing without letting his cock escape my suction. It was like a game of Twister but with his cock instead of colored dots.
He grew bigger, harder and hotter in my mouth, so I knew he was about to cum but I wanted to get mine first. So I flipped him onto his back and mounted him like a cowgirl and started grinding on his peg, then bending upward at my knees, feeling the length of his shaft sliding out of me, then plunging downward filling myself with his hot, hard pole. I would lean my torso forward and let him suckle my rock hard nipples and squeeze my breasts. I was in total control. Or so I thought.
Enjoying the sensation of his cock pistoning into me, but desperate for mutual release, our cadence unwittingly quickened.
Then abruptly several pickup trucks filled the parking lot by our room. Beams of car headlights intermittently filled our room with light, like a sword fight, as the trucks turned into parking spots.
My instinctive reaction was to cover myself and hide but I was only a few feet from the window and anyone in the cab of a truck could have already seen me anyway and I was so close to my orgasm, I decided to collapse on my hubby’s chest, my bent arms hugging his chest and mine, which covered my boobs from view, and I continued to hump his cock, which surprisingly seemed even bigger than before. I reached for a top sheet to cover us but it was tucked in underneath us and of no use.
The truck lights went dark and the engines cut off. So the show was over. Or so I thought.
My hubby pushed me back up to a seated position pushing his cock deeply back into my dripping pussy, which oddly seemed a wetter and more viscous than before. I resumed grinding on him, rotating my hips, rising and falling on his cock like before. But getting hotter than before.
Then right outside our room’s window, the workers convened for a smoke and a chat. Coincidence? I think not.
Bathed in moonlight, we could see other clearly, I was almost hypnotized by the glowing tips of their cigarettes as they inhaled deeply, burning as brightly as my pussy was hot, as I continued to bounce on my hubby’s pleasure pole.
Soon a group of four men were standing by my window. At first, they would only occasionally glance over or pretend to be looking at their reflections in the pane of glass, but we all knew better.
I felt lightheaded like I was hyperventilating. It was a surreal, almost out of body experience, like I was hovering above the scene, watching myself in my mind’s eye, being watched by strangers, during my most vulnerable and intimate moment that I had previously only shared with my hubby.
My skin felt like it was fire, the slightest touch sent jolts of carnality bolting throughout my body but my nipples were like knobs on amplifier, dialing up the pleasure, flooding my sopping pussy with even more of my juices, adding to the loud squishing sounds as my hubby’s cock plunged into me over and over, deeper and deeper.
Their first cigarettes lead to a second. No longer bashful about their interest, they all turned toward the glass, leaned in toward the show and lustfully stared at us intently.
I felt at once, self-conscious and insecure, yet wild and unrestrained. I wanted them to watch. I wanted them to invite themselves in to our room and join us.
Then I orgasmed with such intensity, I felt like I would pass out. It hit me like a series of waves, drowning me with pleasure. My heart raced and I gasped for air, as I shuddered in convulsion of release and euphoria.
Afterward they clapped and dispersed into the darkness heading toward their own rooms. The show was over for now. I felt like running after them. I wanted this feeling to last forever.
That was our first time.
But like any rush or thrill, one needs more sensation to reach that heightened feeling again, so we’ve gotten bolder, almost reckless, but I will tell those stories another time.
Now we find ourselves with people asking us to meet, but we would no longer be anonymous, we would be truly exposing ourselves, our identities would be known, not just our bodies. Doing so, we can’t deny our proclivity or pretend we don’t feel this way; instead of a random stranger with an unknown outcome, we are putting our kink on the calendar. Mind blower.
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Beach story for CHSguyNextDoor, because he asked
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Publié :5/5/2017 14h26
Dernière mise à jour :5/5/2017 15h41 6772 vues
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The weather has been so lovely lately, we've taken our show outside.
Since IOP's beach has been sparsely populated in the early morning, what started off as a stroll along the water's edge turned into a roll in the dunes.
When I left the house that morning, I hadn't intended on such lewd behavior but when my hubby tugged my bikini top's back strap, startling me, my instinctive reaction was to grab at the flapping triangles of fabric that barely covered my boobs.
After I regained my composure, scanned the beach for other walkers, I grinned slyly at my hubby, and then pulled off my top, wadded it up and threw it in his face.
It felt glorious to be topless, naughty and free. I danced around and pirouetted, my arms extended upward gracefully. But there was no one else nearby to see my impromptu performance.
We continued onward but immediately, my hubby began grabbing at my hardened nipples, trying to pinch and twist them. Then he began grasping at the dangling ties of my bikini bottom. He was intent on stripping me on the beach. I squealed as I ran around him in circles, trying to elude him, teasing him, my exposed breasts swinging wildly.
Needless to say, it was very arousing. So I let him catch me and claim his trophy, my bikini bottom.
With distant walkers approaching quickly, I debated for a second, whether to run into the surf or toward the dunes, to hide my nakedness.
My hubby chased me behind the nearest dune and wrestled me down underneath him. I could feel his swollen cock pressing into me through his shorts.
I was naked, horny and wet and my hubby was hard and ready.
I glanced down the beach both ways, and determined we had just enough time.
My hubby mounted me doggy-style as we both continued scanning the beach, peering over the dune, as he pumped his cock into me, pressing me into the sandy bank.
Just as he grunted and began flooding me with his goo, we were shocked to hear people behind us, coming toward us, walking on the boardwalk from the one of the residences. It was too late to escape.
So we rolled our backs toward the boardwalk and waited for them to pass, my hubby embracing me from behind cupping my naked breasts, and my overflowing pussy still impaled on his cock.
They stood over us for too long. Since our backs were turned to them we don’t why, but I’m guessing someone took at least one vacation selfie.
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Golf story for CHSguyNextDoor
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Publié :5/5/2017 14h04
Dernière mise à jour :5/5/2017 14h21 7200 vues
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You again?
If you play golf you’re likely familiar with skins. Well my hubby and me play a different kind skins, more like a game of chicken, with real skin on the line. And losing has its consequences.
The hole was just past the turn, so we were near the clubhouse, but hitting away from it, on a par four dog leg bending left. Each stroke took us farther away from possible witnesses but still within sight.
Hopefully, you can visualize the scene. If you can’t, you should take up golf, the views are beautiful.
After a quick beer at the turn, I was beginning to feel its effects as I stood over my ball on the tee. My score card was getting into my head and I was tightening up. My hubby had a sizable lead and he was in his groove. I needed to change my strategy, so I proffered a new bet.
Whoever wins this hole gets to cum even or gets to claim any article of clothing from the loser. Since I was down, and my hubby really had nothing to lose and everything to reveal. It was Game On.
It came down to each of putting for par but he was away so he had to putt first. He drained it. My beer had fully kicked in, and it was hot, and my putt really should have been a gimme. My stress was building and my focus was waning. If I make it, we push. If I miss, hubby gets his prize.
I couldn’t believe it, but I lipped out.
On the next tee, hubby claimed my bra. I was surprised and confused and looked at him quizzically through half closed eyes. Deal.
I reached under my shirt back to unclasp my bra, to remove it from underneath my shirt, and he stopped me abruptly. He wagged his index finger in my face, scolding me. I was welcome to keep my shirt, but it had to come off first, then my bra.
If I won the next hole, I could either reclaim my bra and put my shirt back on or take the skin.
The group behind us was closing fast, so I had little time to debate the nuances of my first bet or this subsequent bet. It is shirt off, bra off, Game On.
Hubby took his time on the next tee. A few leisurely practice swings. A lengthy assessment stare down the fairway. The group behind us making their way to their green. I begged hubby to hurry up. He smiled a wry grin and went back to his pre-shot ritual.
I just sat in the golf cart, arm crossed over my shirtless breasts, heaving and steaming, and buzzing a little more from first beer. Since I had nowhere to go, I cracked my second beer.
He drove his ball straight and deep down the fairway.
I play from the men’s tee because whatever a man can do, so should a woman, no special treatment. Except today I regretted that mantra, I wished for the Ladies tee, farther down the fairway from the group behind us.
As I stood over my ball, trying to banish thoughts of other golfers, I could feel rivulets of perspiration snaking through my hair, down my jawbone, down my neck and between my now totally exposed and gently swaying breasts. My hubby sat in the cart enjoying my address.
Needless to say, my drive off the tee was not my best given the circumstances but let’s just say Ready Golf has a whole new meaning for me.
I sprinted to the cart and drove off in burst of speed to escape and being caught topless on the tee by the upcoming group.
Halfway down the fairway, I could take my time, or so I thought, until I saw the Marshall heading directly toward us. My hubby had just started driving the cart farther down the fairway toward to his ball. I was alone in the fairway with nothing a but golf shorts and a five iron.
The Marshall pulled up next to my hubby, just off the cart path, and they had a brief conversation, as I stood forty yards away my shirtless back turned partially toward them and the hole, my arms crossed and a golf club dangling between my legs.
My body language screamed my guilt. Likely, the woman’s golf shirt and bra laying on the seat next to hubby confirmed any suspicions the Marshall may have had.
Now I was in pickle. The group on the tee box behind me had started hitting into me and the Marshall was still ahead of me.
And that’s when I reconciled with myself that everyone out has seen boobs before, and now they were gonna seen mine too. And I started striding down the fairway toward my next shot, shoulders back, and two beers consumed. It was a glorious feeling.
To my absolute astonishment, the Marshall pulled a u-turn and drove away. I thought my hubby must be getting soft, missing an opportunity like this, I had no escape, he loves to see me squirm, especially is when partially clad.
Miraculously, he missed a putt and I made an amazing chip, and we were even, but he was away again. Miss it, miss it, miss it, I chanted in my head. He missed it.
All I had to do was sink a relatively straight forward putt to reclaim my bra and my shirt.
As I bent over my putter, I could feel beads of sweat rolling across my back, down the sides of my ribs cage onto the sides my hanging breasts, down to my nipples. I felt as though everyone everywhere could hear the drips and they hit the green under my shoes.
I couldn’t care about anything more than making this putt. Drained it. I jumped for the sky, arms outstretched. Now give me my damn shirt.
I fell back heavily into the golf cart, smug in victory, but more relieved than happy.
I presented my upturned palm in front of hubby’s face into which my eyes commanded that he deliver my garments.
She just shook his head. He recounted my strokes and he was right, I miscounted.
He asked for panties.
True story. I played topless for a hole on the back nine and in only my shoes for two shots on the next. The Marshall was an unforgiving sort.
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WTF
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Publié :23/12/2016 14h38
Dernière mise à jour :5/5/2017 14h22 4807 vues
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So I'm drunk and horny and really hot (for an almost 50 year old) and I want to get crazy and nobody is out there. Tease me or squeeze me?
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2
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Nude/sex clubs in Charleston SC
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Publié :8/12/2016 13h13
Dernière mise à jour :29/6/2017 13h22 6164 vues
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Does anyone know of a sex club in southeastern SC?
We're looking to get naked and watch others have sex in a safe and anonymous environment.
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1
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Pour créer un lien vers ce blog (BountyShared), utilisez [blog BountyShared] dans vos messages.
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