We took off. The girl in 15A nervously put down her magazine and clutched at the armrests. “Sorry,” she apologized for her intrusion into my plane-space, “I’m not a good flyer.” I laughed and assured her that it was fine, and we began to chat.

Her name was Paula and she was connecting in San Francisco to go to Japan, where she would be staying for the next year. We talked for a while and when the flight attendant came through we both ordered gin and tonics.

Two hours and several tiny bottles of Tanqueray later, we were dissolving into peals of laughter. “If you’re not a good flyer,” I asked teasingly, “how in the world are you going to make it from San Francisco to Japan?”

“I don’t know,” she giggled, “Any tips?” I paused, unsure for a moment if what I was about to say was wise. I decided to try it.

“Well,” I said, “I think you’ve got to develop a positive association between flying and other things you enjoy.”

“Like what? Crossword puzzles?”

“I was thinking something a little stronger.”

The realization of what I was saying crept over her face. At first she was astonished at my meaning. But then there was a flicker of something else in her eyes, something primal and uncontrollable. I leaned in and whispered, “Meet me in 5 minutes. You’ll see where.” And with that I stepped out into the aisle and walked forward, ducking quickly into one of the plane’s lavatories.

The five minutes felt like forever in the small cubicle, but finally I heard a faint knock at the door. I opened it a crack to make sure it was her and she then slipped inside. We were forced close by the small quarters, and her large breasts pushed into me. If she was nervous, she didn’t show it.

I put my hand behind her neck and kissed her. She kissed me back and ran her hands over my t-shirt clad chest. At last it was the moment I had been waiting for as she pulled off her own low-cut top to reveal her bra-less chest. I gazed in amazement at the bounty in front of me. Her breasts were like twin orbs, so full and perfectly shaped with her nipples almost as big as saucers at their tops. I leaned down and buried my face in them, my lips trying futilely to cover every inch of those newfound treasures.

She hopped up on to the sink counter, her huge breasts set a-jiggle with even the slight jump. I removed my shirt and she pulled down her bottoms, first her shorts, then the lime green thong until there was only the pressurized cabin air between me and her pussy.

I dropped my jeans around my ankles and ran my hands up her smooth legs. Her thighs were thick but toned, the legs of a distance-runner. She pulled me in for a kiss as I positioned myself in the small airplane bathroom. I could feel her pubic hair tickling the tip of my dick as I maneuvered toward my final decent. She moaned as I touched down inside her, a three-point landing in her glistening moist snatch, and I quickly covered her mouth with mine.

Not that it helped much, since as soon as I felt my cock inside her I began hammering away, so hard that the bathroom mirror shook and I’m sure that the passengers on board had to buckle up from the turbulence we were creating.

She steadied herself by reaching up and pressing against the ceiling, and I let my hands squeeze and wander over the slopes of those magnificent tits. Her pussy was tight and wet, and she signaled her pleasure by whispering my name in a throaty voice with each pump of my pelvis.

Her breasts thumping against me as I rammed harder and harder into her waiting snatch, I could barely breath between the cramped room and the intense pleasure of slipping my dick in and out of the girl from 15A. I pushed her back firmly as I felt myself start to come, the pulsing sensation I felt throughout my body almost knocking me over. I pulled out and came on her stomach, sticky lines of pearly jizz soaring through the air before crashing down onto her toned abs. I don’t know about her, but I certainly would never look at flying the same way again.

It was at the gym I first met him, me on my treadmill, he curling free weights. I didn’t talk to him that first time, I was too shy, but knowing that I might see him again certainly increased the time I spent working out. He seemed to always be there, and as I ran my hands over his smooth, bulging biceps, it showed.

He turned to face me, his dark eyes burning into me as looked at me with unmistakable desire. He was brown skinned, Argentinean. With the water cascading down his sizable pecs, he looked like an Incan new god, here on Earth for the sole purpose of giving us mortal women pleasure.

His arms enveloped me as he guided me under the water with him. Next to him my body looked even paler than even my Swedish blood dictated. The water and his fingers ran through my long blonde hair as he pulled me against his hard body and kissed me deeply. I could feel his manhood pressing against me, turgid with lust.

The steam from the shower fogging up the mirror, I could no longer see our reflection as he reached for the sponge. He lathered the sponge with bath soap and began to run it over my body. He started with my neck, delicately and sensually, then moved down my chest. He ran his hands over each of my breasts, cupping them lightly in his big, strong hands, before slowly running the soapy sponge down the gentle slopes until he reached my pert pink nipples.

Between my breasts he went, then down my stomach and to my thighs, while he moved his other hand to tease and touch my hairless pussy. He turned me around and kissed the clean skin of my neck as he held me from behind, his hand still working between my thighs. I reached back and rest my head against his chest, clutching the back of his thick dark hair. My body trembled with delight as his fingers moved all around the smooth skin of my crotch, the warm water still pulsing down on us in torrents.

I leaned forward and rest my hands on the shower’s bench as he entered me from behind. The shower had disguised just exactly how wet I was, but I could feel it now as he glided easily in and out of my pussy. His hands were firm on my round, soft ass while he pumped his dick deeper and deeper into my wetness. I lifted a hand from the bench and caressed my breasts.

He quickened his pace and began to groan with delight at the grip of my tight pussy on his girthy cock. My hair flipped into my face as I involuntarily threw my head forward in pleasure, feeling every inch of him pushing inside me. He thrust over and over again, seemingly in rhythm with the shower’s pulsations, and our breaths grew quicker and our sounds of pleasure grew louder.

His hands were now on my waist as he went at me harder, our wet skin slapping together audibly. I moved my hand from my breasts down toward my clit and began to rub myself while his monster shaft jackhammered me at the same time.

I felt my orgasm coming, like a scream that could not escape my mouth and instead traveled all through my body. Every nerve ending with alive with ecstasy as my South American warrior continued with his throbbing dick. Every drop of water that hit me now turned me on even more, and I could feel his manhood shudder as he climaxed inside me. All the sexual energy that had been pulsing through my body was now concentrated on my lady-parts, and my whole body shook as I came to a shrieking climax. Doing our part for the environment had never felt so good.

The name on the door reads Shooter Johnson. That’s me. It’s not what my momma gave me but it’s what the streets had named me because of my handiness with the steel as well as the whiskey. These days the only shooting I was doing involved bourbon, not bullets. Both burn like the devil and make you feel like hell the next morning, though. Times were lean and I was anxious for some action. Some action is what I got.

The dame came in (it’s always a dame). She said she had a case – I thought she was a case, but that’s par for the course. She started off with some semi-sensical sob story about her husband runnin’ around on her. If she blabbered like this at home, I couldn’t blame the man. Said she wanted to bust him in the act so she could divorce him and take half his loot. The man was loaded. So was I, so I let her keep talkin’.

She finished up her sorry tale and looked at me with her big doe eyes. I fed her my usual lines about girls like her not deserving to be treated like this and swore that I’d catch this bastard and make sure she got everything she was entitled to. The promises were empty, but so was my wallet – I needed the clientele, no matter how loopy. I gently broached the subject of my fee.

When the dame got all fidgety and nervous I could tell I was about to get a ten pound sack of bad news. Told me she didn’t have any cash of her own, it was all in his name, and she couldn’t very well get the dough from her husband and say she was buyin’ a washing machine. She started again about how loaded her beau was and that she’d gladly make sure that I got mine as soon as she got hers. I told her no dice. Bookies and pimps might give credit, but they’ve got more respectable customers.

She narrowed those blue eyes at me and asked if there was any other way I’d take the job – emphasis on the “any.” She uncrossed her legs. Not a ladylike gesture, but from the view I got up the skirt I could tell that she was all lady where it counts. I looked her over again. She was a tall drink of water with gams from here to Thursday and a good sized rack. I asked her what she had in mind.

She crossed behind to my side of the desk. Normally I don’t like people on my side of the desk, but I made an exception this time since she was already working the straps of her dress over her shoulders. The dress fell to the floor and lay in a heap next to an empty bottle of Beam. She had come prepared for this sort of negotiation – no panties, no bra. Her tits were long and curved a bit out with dark pink nipples at their ends. Her carpet matched her sandy blonde drapes. I felt something pressing in my pants, and it sure as hell wasn’t my revolver.

“I’ve never done anything like this before,” she said. It was bullshit, but I didn’t care. I put out my cigarette and turned my chair toward her, still leaned back. She pulled back her hair and started on my belt. Good – I don’t like a girl that wastes time. She leaned in and kissed me on the chops as she finished getting the barrel of my pistol out of it’s 70% cotton holster. I smelt her perfume mixed with the stale smoke of my office.

She started with her real handiwork now, working my shaft and balls while she kept her tongue shoved down my throat. I reached a mitt up and grabbed one of her tits. They were cool and firm in my hand and I squeezed harder as she stroked my cock. She extracted herself from my tonsils and started heading south.

She gave my johnson a tongue bath for lubrication before sticking it inbetween her cans. She worked me up and down with her funbags as my balls slapped into her sternum. It felt great, and she seemed like she was havin’ a good time too by the way she moaned while she moved her fingers over her nips.

She went on like this for a minute and I felt my blood draining out of my brain and into my cock. She certainly was making a convincing argument. She took me out from between her breasts and stuck the newly-minted center of my nervous system into her mouth. Her breath was hot against my sack as she smeared her lipstick all over my rod. Her tongue darted back and forth, then started lapping at the spot where my head joined the rest of my man-meat. The girl talked like a debutante but she gave head like a pro, and in no time I felt like I was going to go off like a rifle

I expressed my desire that she pick up the pace, by which I mean I grabbed her by the hair and started to take control of the situation. One of her free hands kneaded my balls while the other worked the base of my cock, most of which was now in the back of her mouth. She kept working her tongue like a champ as I felt myself getting ready to blow. My weapon fired, appropriately, six rounds of hot come bullets down the dame’s throat. Her head rocked back and she swallowed hard as she took each one. Six shots to the mouth and still standing? We could have used more like her in ‘Nam.

My chamber empty, the broad stood up and put her dress back on. “So,” she said, fixing her hair, “do we have a deal?”

I lit a cigarette and leaned back once more in my chair. “Sorry, lady. I can’t pay my alimony in blowjobs.”

When we got to the bar the party was already in full swing. Mitch & I didn’t come down to be the soberest people at the bar, so we immediately set to work on shots and beers. Mitch tried to sweet-talk the bubble butt bartender with his garbled high school Spanish. She laughed in his face and informed him (in perfect English) that he had asked if he could see her cat in the library. The ex was still on my mind so I decided to ditch Mitch and try to get her out of my head by talking to some chicas.

I wasn’t having much luck until I spotted a beautiful brown-skinned girl in tight black pants and a sequined tank-top. She was about five-foot-four with long black hair and dark brown eyes. She was taking a break from dancing, wiping the sweat from her brow as she sipped a margarita at a nearby table. I asked her name. “Ana,” she said with a faint but noticeable accent. We talked for a while and had a few shots, next thing I knew we were making out under the bar’s flashing lights, reggaeton pulsing in the background.

I went to find Mitch to tell him that I was heading back to the motel with Ana. Mitch was talking to a blonde surfer-girl who didn’t look particularly interested in him, and he expressed his jealousy when I pointed Ana out. Just then, Ana came up and whispered in my ear, “Why doesn’t he come too?”

“Why?” I asked, taken aback.

“I like an audience,” she replied with a wink. This girl was a freak, and a freak was just what I wanted. We all did another shot and then the three of us headed back to the motel for the real fiesta.

Ana wasted no time in peeling off her shirt as soon as we got in the motel room. Mitch put some music on with the portable speakers we brought, more reggaeton, and took out his digital camera. Ana pushed me onto a chair and began to give me a lap dance while Mitch snapped photos. She pushed my face into her tits and straddled me, grinding me hard with her gorgeous ass. I unhooked her front-clasping pink bra as she took off my shirt. Her breasts pressed against my face as she kept dancing. They were huge, each one nearly the size of my head with large dark nipples in the center. I grabbed them with both hands and began to lick and bite them while she bounced to the rhythm on my rapidly stiffening dick.

She threw her head back in pleasure as I worked her chest with my mouth until she climbed off of me and on to her knees. Her long hair tickled my stomach as she undid my button-fly. She pulled my jeans and boxers down with an eager jerk, revealing my now massive hard-on. She put her full lips over the head of my penis and began to flick the tip lightly with her tongue.

She started working up and down my shaft with her mouth, cupping my balls with one hand and rubbing my thigh with the other. I was in heaven. Mitch bounced giddily around the room, trying to get the best angle for his pornographic photo debut. After a while, Ana took my dick out of her mouth and turned to him.

“Hey pendejo,” she said, still stroking my cock, “why don’t you stop taking pictures like a maricon and come join the party?” With that she took my hand and led me to the bed. Mitch dropped the camera to the floor and began to undress. I pulled down her tight pants and began to massage her pussy over her thong, before pushing it aside and sticking my fingers inside her. She greeted this with an appreciative “Aye” and I could feel her getting wetter. By now, Mitch had joined us in the bed and Ana was stroking his cock with her left hand while rubbing her nipples with her right. I rolled down her thong and pushed her legs on my shoulders. She exhaled sharply and cried out as I jammed my cock deep inside her soaking puss.

I worked her in and out while she continued jerking Mitch off, using her free hand to rub her clit. She was breathing heavily and her face was frozen in a contorted expression of pleasure. We kept at it like this for a few minutes, me pushing myself deeper and deeper inside her pussy while she worked her hands up and down Mitch’s dick, everyone moaning in pleasure.

I pulled out of her and guided her to flip over. Her ass that looked so money in those pants was just as bouncy and sexy without them, and I immediately began to pound her from behind as her ass jiggled and shook with each powerful movement of my hips. She held herself up with her hands, her breasts swaying beneath her. Mitch gently grabbed her hair and pushed her head back, his grip tightening as he stuck his dick inside her mouth. Her groans of pleasure were now muffled hums escaping around Mitch’s cock, which seemingly disappeared into her throat.

For the first time, Mitch and I looked at each other. Immediately, we knew what to do – what any two 19 year old college kids would do when they find themselves double teaming a smoking hot Mexican girl in a Tijuana love motel. We high-fived over Ana’s fucking and sucking body, briefly forming the mythical Eiffel Tower. We would be the gods of our frat when we got home to tell this story.

I continued railing Ana’s gorgeous ass from behind until I was ready to come. Mitch was close, too, so we both pulled out and Ana rolled over. We finished ourselves off as she fingered her pussy, moaning and writing and softly cursing in Spanish. We came on her magnificent heaving breasts and she rubbed it around her breasts as she came as well. After a minute she asked to use our shower and went to clean herself up, leaving Mitch and I to look at the pictures and reflect on what had been one of the best nights of our lives.

You put your bag down and I offered to make us all drinks as you and Michelle chatted nervously on your bed. I brought them back and sat between the two of you and we again shared an anxious laugh to hide how turned on we all already were just by the thought, the possibility. The sexual tension hung in the air like an electric fog ready to be ignited by a single spark.

I began to kiss your shoulder as my hand moved to Michelle’s thigh. You closed your eyes and placed your hand on my chest as Michelle subtly pushed my hand higher and higher toward her crotch. She leaned across me and kissed you on the mouth, tentatively at first, then with increasing passion. We lay back on the bed, the two of you still kissing on top of me while your hands explored each other’s bodies, and then mine. I kissed your neck and began to unzip your dress, which Michelle helped you slide out of. Michelle took off her top. You both wore strapless bras, yours black and hers blue.

You kissed me now, while your hand began to caress Michelle’s breasts. Michelle’s hands ran under my shirt across my chest. I pulled my shirt over my head and undid my pants as you turned your attention back to each other, stroking each other’s hair and kissing each other’s necks and breasts, steadying yourselves on my muscular body. Michelle took off her pants and now you both were clad only in your underwear. My erection pushed up through my pants. You took them off and began to stroke my cock while Michelle ran her tongue behind your ear. Michelle’s hand joined yours on my manhood, and she fondled my balls as your hand traveled up and down my shaft.

You both lay back and began to kiss me now, and I managed to unhook both of your bras despite the haze of pleasure your two hands created in my mind. Now the three of our mouths pressed hungrily onto whoever’s flesh was the closest, our lips and bodies aching to taste all of the pleasures available to them. Both sets of your breasts pushed firmly into my side – yours curvaceous and pale, hers small and tan. The bed was a jumble of searching hands and soft moans as you both continued to work my dick with your hands.

Michelle slithered down and took me in her mouth as you grabbed her hair and kissed my stomach. I pulled you to my mouth and used my free hand to massage the top of your pussy, first through your underwear and then inside them, your trimmed pubic hair brushing my palm. You peeled down your panties as Michelle bobbed expertly on my cock, her tongue swirling around its head. Now Michelle’s hand was reaching up to play with your clit as I focused my attention on your softly heaving breasts. You moaned loudly at our combined attention and I could tell that you were already close to climaxing.

I guided Michelle’s head up from my lap and she moved over to allow you to climb on top of me. You slid your tight slit over my throbbing cock and gyrated your hips slowly back and forth as your hands reached into Michelle’s black satin panties. She removed them and you slid your fingers inside her. Her hands groping your breasts, which jump up and down as you ride me, she kisses you as you reach deeper inside her. My hands work around her small, dark nipples as we all vocalize our passions for each other.

We fuck harder, faster, as Michelle comes first, her hands gripping and clawing both of our chests as she shudders to a climax. You come next, your pussy tightening – nearly strangling my cock as you kiss Michelle to stifle a scream. Finally me, as you continue to writhe on my dick, your slippery wetness grinding me as Michelle bites my chest. My muscles spasm as I come, and then it is silent – save for syncopated, heavy breaths of satisfaction.

She was a few inches shorter than me, wearing a strapless dress in rich green, contrasting with her pale, freckled shoulders. The dress was tight. It clung to her narrow hips and stretched tautly across her ass, showing the outline of her panties.

More passengers boarded at the next stop and the girl in the green dress was forced slightly back. Now her shapely ass was pressed into my crotch and I could see over her shoulder her small but perfectly round tits. I could feel my dick stirring in my pants. I craned my neck slightly to look down into the gap between her breasts.

I was fully hard now, and the redhead pressed against me only intensified my arousal. She inhaled quickly, startled by the unmistakable pressure of my cock.

She turned her head slightly and looked sidelong at me with her hazel eyes. Her features were delicate, and freckles also dotted her high cheekbones and the narrow bridge of her nose. She looked like an Irish princess. My erection still firmly pressing against her, I prepared for an embarrassing confrontation. Instead, her eyes flickered and her lips curled into a mischievous half-smile. Slowly and deliberately, she began to grind her ass against my stiff member.

This surreptitious bump-and-grind continued until the train crawled to a stop at the next station. The redheaded seductress turned to me again and said, over her shoulder, “This is my stop. Is this where you get off?”

“It is now,” I replied.

I followed her off of the platform, through the crowd and to a relatively empty part of the station. She stopped at an unmarked door and impishly looked around before opening it. With a slender finger she beckoned me inside.

It looked to be a storage closet, filled with boxes of paper and other supplies for the station office. The room was lit by a single naked bulb, hanging overhead. As I locked the door she put her arms around me from behind and began to run her hands over my chest and stomach, moving down until she finally reached my still solid cock. She undid my pants and pulled it out through the slit in my boxers.

She ran her tapered fingers up and down my shaft and lightly squeezed the tip of my dick. She pressed her breasts against my back as she continued to teasingly stroke my cock and gently fondle my balls.

Unable to take it any longer, I turned quickly and kissed her deeply, my hands moving down to the small of her back then to her ass. I tightly gripped the soft fabric and flesh as she pushed me against the wall and began to unbutton my shirt.

I pulled her dress down over her tits and caressed her them, my fingers brushing roughly over her pert nipples. Her eyes were aflame with desire as she kissed me wildly. I guided her to a wall lined with grey metal shelves and turned her around, kissing her neck and pushing her dress up over her hips. I pulled down her pink-laced panties, now moistened with the fluids of desire. She bent over, steadying herself on a low shelf. I took her from behind.

My cock fit tightly in her wet, pink pussy and I felt like I was going to immediately come. I slowly began to push myself in and out of her tight pink lips as she cooed softly. My gripped tightly on her hips as I began to thrust harder and harder, the shelves banging noisily against the wall. Her breasts swayed freely with every motion, and she removed one steadying hand so that she could grab and squeeze them while I pounded her.

My dick reached deep inside her. Her hole was wet and slippery, but its tightness gripped me and gave light resistance with every stroke. I kept hammering her as my manhood tingled with pleasure. I gripped tighter for leverage and spanked her lily-white ass while my sac slapped against her clit in rhythm to my movements.

Her coos turned to moans and her moans to screams as I continued to fuck her doggy-style, she ran her hand urgently over her chest and down her stomach. She was nearly screaming when she moved her hand down over her well manicured-thatch of light-red pubes, rubbing her clitoris vigorously as my cock thumped inside her.

I thrust faster, faster, faster until we both could only make low grunts and gasps of pleasure. I felt her already tight pussy clamp harder around my stiff dick as she came noisily. The added pressure around my already throbbing cock, coupled with her scream of passion, sent me over the edge and I came with her, my hot jizz blasting out furiously. We stood there, me still inside her, in the softly lit storage closet. I had never felt so happy that I rode public transit.

I gently closed the door to my cherry-red1958 Impala hard-top and looked around the lot. Through the sepia-tone of my aviators I saw the usual gang of car show regulars. There was the grizzled old veterans, showing off the cars they spent their retirements restoring, and the gearheads who spent every last penny of their mechanic’s paychecks on salvaged parts for their vintage hot rods. And the girls. Oh the girls.

There was always a sizable group of models at these types of shows. Local nineteen and twenty year old talent willing to wiggle and flirt at a supplier’s booth for a hundred dollars and an undersized T-shirt. These girls have everything that a hot-blooded man could want, and they certainly let you know it. Tight terrycloth shorts stretched tautly over their asses, barely containing the round but firm curve underneath. Pert young tits straining to burst forth from inside their white cotton tops. A bearded biker leered with unconcealed lechery at a blonde in the Mopar booth, until his old-lady dragged him away by his graying ponytail.

Yeah, the girls were there and hot enough to make El Cajon in July seem downright chilly by comparison. I’d been around the circuit long enough to know that these girls looked even more beautiful in the backseat of your car with their lips wrapped around your cock. I scanned the booths and looked over a brunette with a big ass and a naïve smile. That’s when she walked by.

She wasn’t a booth girl, but you wouldn’t be able to tell by her body. She was tall, maybe six-foot, with long shapely legs rising up to meet a perfectly shaped ass under frayed denim cutoffs. I could see the top half of a tattoo – a butterfly? – on her right hip peeking above her low-rise shorts. Her stomach was toned and flat, and a light pink tank top stretched over a pair of what looked to be C-cup breasts, round and full. She was bra-less, and her shirt’s thin fabric revealed the faint outlines of her nipples.

She stopped and looked at my ride, then at me. Her eyes were a deep blue brought out by her tan skin and long, honey hair. “Nice car. I’ve always looked good in red.”

“I bet you look good in anything,” I said. Or nothing, I thought. Especially nothing. We chatted for a while about nothing in particular. The heat, the show, my car. The whole time she spoke she kept her thumb in her belt loop, peeling down her shorts just enough to reveal the rest of the butterfly tattoo and her well defined hipbone. She was a local girl, and she didn’t know much about cars. I generously offered to teach her about mine. I decided we should start with the interior.

I climbed in the driver’s side and she the passenger’s. The bench-style seats were trimmed in blue leather that stuck lightly to her the back of her smooth, bronzed thighs. It was hot inside, despite the heavily tinted windows, and a bead of sweat made its way down her chest until it disappeared into the majestic ravine between her breasts. She ran her hand over the dashboard, on to the steering wheel, and finally let her hand drop down to my thigh. I could feel myself getting hard.

Without a word, I leaned in and greedily threw my lips onto her collarbone, her sweat salty, stinging my tongue. She tilted her head back and I made my way up her slender neck until I settled just behind her ear. She grabbed my hair and moaned softly as I ran my hand up her bare legs until my fingers reached the fringe of her shorts. My mouth softly tugged at the bottom of her earlobe when I felt her grip tighten.

In an instant, I ducked my head down and began to kiss her inner thigh as she undid the button on her shorts. With a light tug I guided them down over her ass and off. I ran my tongue up closer toward her pussy and teasingly underneath the edge of her white thong. I tasted her again, this time the taste was sticky and sweet and I wanted more. I peeled down her thong to reveal her cleanly shaven snatch, pink and quivering from every touch of my hands, lips, and tongue.

She took off my shirt. Our bodies were glistening with sweat but I knew that it was more than sweat that gleamed in the pale, white triangle formerly covered by her panties. She let out a slight gasp as her moist flesh gave way to the two fingers I slid inside her. Her hands gripped my shoulders firmly as I flicked my tongue around her pussy’s lips. I felt her breath quicken and her twat tighten around my fingers as I worked my way toward the top of her pussy. I lathered my tongue over her clit while I worked my index and middle fingers in and out of her her slippery cunt. She arched her back and squealed in ecstasy. I could feel her even tighter around my hand as my tongue continued lapping furiously. Soon, she screamed a clipped, high-pitch scream and flailed her hips wildly, her soaked crotch rubbing against my face as she screechingly climaxed.

Her hair now matted from the car’s upholstery, she pulled my head from her muff and pushed me onto my back. She took off her tank top and revealed her breasts, even more full and firm than they looked under her shirt, with small pink areolas around her hardened nipples. She kissed me as she took off my jeans, first my neck, then my chest, and then finally my stomach as she pulled down my boxers. My dick, having gotten harder and harder while I buried my face in her hairless beaver, stood long and firm. Her eyes got wide, first with surprise at its size and then with an insatiable desire to feel it inside her.

I slid to her side of the seat and she straddled over me. Her still drenched pussy dripping onto my cock, she bit lightly on the side of my neck as her hair brushed against my chest. My throbbing rod slid easily inside her slit and she again arched her back in delight, thrusting her magnificent breasts into my face. I gripped her waist and she rocked back and forth on my pulsing dick as I sucked and bit her left nipple. She groaned, and I did too as I felt her gliding up and down every inch of my nine inch cock.

I grabbed a tuft of her hair and leaned her back so that I could fit myself deeper inside her. My eyes rolled slightly back as I felt her grinding harder on the underside of my manhood. She said nothing; she couldn’t; she was so deep in the throes of passion that all she could manage were intermittent squeaks of pleasure. I ran my hand down to her ass and slapped it once before feeling its muscular but soft flesh in my hand. Her tits bounced rhythmically on my face and shoulders. I too was rendered speechless by sheer erotic bliss, and the car was filled by a symphony of heavy, sharp breaths and throaty groans.

Her ass bounced up and down over my dick until I could feel my member twitching and straining under the pressure of the come that was about to erupt. Sensing this, she dismounted and knelt on the floorboard, taking me in her mouth. She first put her lips around the tip and then, taking smiling at her own sweet taste, pushed me deeper inside as her hand worked up my balls to the base of my shaft. Up and down she worked her mouth and tongue over my now shuddering cock. My hips strained and bucked as she sucked and licked until finally I could hold back no more.

I came, first in spurts and then in gushes, as she continued lightly working her lips down my rod. I was a machine gun, my dick spraying forth a torrent of milky cum that she swallowed as it ricocheted off the back of her throat. I reached back and moaned, satisfied as the last blasts issued forth. She worked one final time down almost to the base of my cock, as if she didn’t want to waste a single drop of my come. With a smile, she licked her lips and looked up at me, smiling as she brushed back a lock of hair from her forehead.

She wordlessly redressed and checked herself in the rear view mirror. I sat, naked and spent, in the driver’s seat once more. Satisfied with her reflection, she turned to me and gave me a half smile. “Next time you’re in El Cajon, we should do this again.”

“How will I…?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll find you.” And with that, she stepped out and disappeared into the southern California sun.

Joan Evans, the Vice President of Sales and Marketing, was as hard-assed as they come. In her early forties but certainly not looking like it, she rose to the top of the company fast by working hard and not taking any shit from her mostly male coworkers. Her tongue was sharp and everyone in the company knew to stay off her bad side or risk being torn open by her scathing criticisms.

As Mrs. Evans flips to your report, directing a stream of vitriol your way while your coworkers try to avoid eye contact, you tune her out and let your mind wander as you looked at the petit yet intimidating woman at the front of the room.

She really was an attractive woman, even though she tried to hide it in her conservative business attire. Her hair was tied back in a loose bun and her small waist gave way to full hips before tapering down to legs that even her knee-length skirt could not hide the shapeliness of. You wonder what she’d look like in a miniskirt.

Just then Mrs. Evans closes the meeting. Everyone rises from the conference table and starts to make their exit. She looks at you with her piercing dark eyes. “Not you. You stay. We have to talk about your performance.” Your colleagues shoot you sympathetic glances before hastily leaving the room to gossip about your future – or lack thereof.

When everyone is gone, Mrs. Evans locks the door. The conference room has no windows,; you can feel the room get more humid. You are for some reason reminded of the times you spent with your college girlfriend, the air of your tiny dorm room heavy with the combined sweat and sexual energy of two young, lust-crazed students. Mrs. Evans bends slightly to get a file and you notice the cleavage just underneath her white button down blouse. You can feel your dick harden.

“I should fire you,” she says and you notice how full and sensual her lips are. “These numbers are unacceptable.” She’s staring into you now, past your eyes and into your soul as if she’s searching for something deep inside you that she… wants. Your mouth starts to water from fear and, strangely, desire.

You notice something change in her hard gaze. It doesn’t soften, but it seems to carry with it a spark of satisfaction, like a lioness who has spotted her easy prey.

“Of course, I suppose there are other ways you can contribute.” She moves to your side of the room and sits on the table, her skirt rising up slightly. Your heartbeat quickens. She lowers her eyes to your lap. You’re fully hard now and the outline is visible through the fabric of your slacks.

“Yes, there are definitely other ways.”

She slides a manicured finger down from her throat to the top of her blouse. She undoes a button. You can see the tops of her full breasts and the edge of her lace bra.

“I think it’s time that you had a full performance review.”

She moves to you and pulls you up by the top of your tie.

“J…Joan…” you finally manage but she jerks your tie and cuts you off.

“You will refer to me as Mrs. Evans.”

You guide off Mrs. Evans’ blazer as she loosens your tie and begins to unbutton your shirt. You lean in to kiss her on those plump, red lips but she stops you and directs you downward. Her skin is soft and you can taste her perfume as you hungrily set your lips upon the exposed part of her chest. You unbutton her shirt and run your hands up her spine to unclasp her bra. She shimmies out of her top and you bury your face in her pale, supple breasts.

She exhales loudly at the touch of your lips to her dark pink nipples and she runs her hand down your stomach and feels your rigid cock over your clothes. Her hands expertly undo your belt and your pants, and in seconds you stand in the conference room fully exposed.

You move your hands down her waist, lips still kissing her breasts as you push her skirt up. She is stroking your dick now, her hands nimble and soft as she runs them up and down the underside of your shaft. You pull her leggings down to her ankles. Flexible, Mrs. Evans rocks back and puts her legs over your head and rests a calf on each of your shoulders. You pull her to the edge of the polished oak conference table and, standing, stick your throbbing cock deep inside her wet, quavering pussy.

She kicks off her heels, pushes her leggings from her feet and wraps her long legs around your neck. She’s moaning now, but not in the forceful way you had imagined she would. As you tighten your grip on her thighs and continue to ravage your boss’s soaking slit, you look down and see not an intimidating power-broker but a vulnerable woman biting her lower lip to keep from screaming at the ecstasy she feels as your cock pounding her over and over again.

You join her on top of the table with your dick still inside her. Now you’re on your knees on top of her and she’s flat on her back, her tits bouncing upward with every powerful thrust. No, she’s not Mrs. Evans, you think, as you pin her wrists above her head. She’s just Joan, and she just needs a good fucking.

She’s writhing underneath you now, looking up at you with eyes glassed over by pleasure. “Oh.. oh God…” It’s her that’s stammering now as you feel her pelvic muscles getting tighter and tighter around your pulsating hard-on. You tighten your grip on her wrists and she groans appreciatively. Her back rises from the table and she contorts as she finally can take no more. She works her hands free and grabs you by the hair. She pulls your mouth toward hers and kisses you deeply in a desperate effort to stifle a scream. She comes, you can feel it, and as she does you can also feel your own hot come rushing toward the top of your still hammering cock. As she finishes her climax you pull out of her drenched pussy. You look at the exhausted and satisfied the woman on the conference table, and feel the explosion racing through your shaft, up to your head and, in long, pearl white streams, on to the face of the Vice President of Sales and Marketing.

She reaches in her bag and finds something to clean herself up with as you get dressed. You look her in the eyes and you know that something has changed. Her eyes are no longer hard, and she averts them as she re-buttons her blouse.

“Will that be all, Mrs. Evans?” you say.

“Yes. That will be all.”