I have to tell you… my readers are the BEST!!

You know I thrive on your feedback, whether public or private… well… in my inbox one day, I found this extremely flattering piece of fan mail.  One of my readers wrote me a story.  Not just any old story, mind you… but an erotic fantasy… about me! Talk about an ego stroke… and we all know how much I love being stroked…

Thank you, Trip X for allowing me to share your fantasy with everyone else.

I give you…

*

*

*

My Own Private Happy Hour

by Trip X

 

I met Penny

in what is becoming the “usual” way nowadays, through the internet. I had been writing rough stories, erotic in my mind, but still very immature in my style. After a couple of years of poking around on Yahoo’s Flickr and losing my stories due to groups being deleted, I stumbled upon WordPress.com.

Soon after getting there, I found Happy Hour and Penny. I’m not a big drinker, but I have been known to get drunk a few times. I waited until I was well into my thirties before imbibing to the point of inebriation. I do rather enjoy having a few drinks and watching those around me get totally wasted; that’s when the real fun begins.

Getting back to Penny; she seemed different. Something about her said, “I’m real;  I don’t pull punches and somewhere below this façade is a real live, living, breathing, person with feelings.”

I found this out to be oh so true when she stated on her blog that there had been a tragedy in her life and that she would be absent for a few weeks.

I immediately reached out to her in compassion and relayed that I was available if she needed an ear to bend. We live quite possibly within five to six hours of each other and I would not hesitate to visit her if she needed me to.

We’ve managed to maintain a blogger’s relationship through WordPress via comments, questions and answers. We’re both adults, I’ve seen her pictures and I have only posted one of mine. I would consider her to be a fine catch for anyone; she’s quite built, very easy on the eyes and very attractive. I can also see in her eyes an intelligence that makes her all the sexier.

I am rooted in reality and know that our current relationship is exactly what it is, an online flirtation meant to stroke our egos, and entice our minds. But sometimes I want more.

Her writings make me want to try new things, including her tasty alcoholic concoctions. But what I’d rather taste is the concoction that she herself makes.

One day, I found myself in her “neck of the woods” on business. I have a lawn service and I was picking up a piece of equipment from an online seller. I had told her of my impending trip and she invited me to have a drink or two with her, you guessed it, at Happy Hour.

I noticed her straightaway as I entered the bar, you guessed it again, Happy Hour. I joined her at her table after we exchanged a hand shake and a quick friendly hug.

She was wearing a tank top and jeans, a cowboy hat and boots, looking the picture of erotic sexiness. In spite of my nervousness, my cock was at full attention.

She ordered the first round and as we nursed our drinks, we got better acquainted. I still couldn’t believe I was here, sitting with her, talking to her, my wife none the wiser.

She knows I’m married, I’ve been clear about it, but I won’t tell if she won’t. Besides, I’m not there to have sex with her, at least not yet.

Something about the drinks has loosened my tongue, uncharacteristic for me, but still fun. I begin to tell Penny what I like in bed. She already knows about my desire to feast on a girl, but I share with her this other piece, one that a few know, but might not be full public knowledge, “If I had a choice between feasting on a fine pussy, and having intercourse with it, I will always choose the feast. It is more intimate and I know she’ll get off.”

She asks me, “Well, do you think Bill Clinton cheated on Hillary with Monica?”

I know what she is driving at; do I consider oral sex as cheating. I answered her truthfully, “No, Bill didn’t cheat; he just got a blow job.”

Penny took my hand and said, “Then this is your lucky night.”

We walked hand in hand to my truck. I opened the back door for her and she stepped into the Suburban, its lush blue seats inviting her to sit.

I could smell her scent as her ass was in my face upon entering the truck. As I entered behind her and closed the door, she was already wriggling out of her jeans. I assisted her and soon I was lying on the same blue cushions with one of her legs thrown over the seat back and the other on the floor.

Her panties were barely covering her soaking wet slit as I began to kiss the inside of her right knee. My lips trailed down her thigh until I could smell nothing but the sweet scent of her sodden pussy. I tasted her wet panties and sucked on her juices.

Taking a finger and sliding the fabric aside, I soon tickled her labia with the tip of my tongue. She was delicious and delirious with the expectation of orgasm. I teased her lips with my tongue, avoiding her clit until she raised her hips and grabbed my hair, forcing me to contact her clit.

The ensuing explosion of ecstasy created a deluge on my seat as she came hard. I tried in vain to consume her passionate pussy and its copious fluids. After a short hour between her sweet thighs, I met her face to face, kissed her on the lips and thanked her for allowing me to enjoy my own private Happy Hour.

*

*

*

Passionate Pussy

1 1/2 ounces Baileys Irish Cream

1 ounce Cointreau

2 ounces Light Cream

Add ingredients to an ice filled cocktail shaker.  Shake until frosted.  Strain into a chilled martini glass.

Enjoy!

*

*