Slutty Ondra's Sex Log Ch. 04

"Shit Ondra!" said the satisfied but disappointed Fel as he reclaimed his cock and flipped it back into his pants.

With a dollop of cum hanging from my nose, I grabbed one of the hotel washcloths in an effort to perform step five. I thought I could make it into the bathroom with enough time to prevent Fel's cum from encroaching upon my eyelashes, but I was a step too slow. It had gotten itself all tangled up in them and it took me a while to get them unstuck.

Before I wiped my mouth, I gave a quick lick to my upper lip and took some of his cum onto my tongue. I wanted to know how he tasted in case there was a next time. It was actually a little on the bitter side, so I was glad that I hadn't taken his entire load in my mouth.

This time the bad flavor could have just been a timing thing, though. After all, warm, farm-fresh cum that's right out of the chute was probably going to taste a lot better than cum that had been clumped onto my upper lip for a couple of minutes.

Once I got the mess off my face I proposed, "Let's get naked and watch cheesy pay-per-view!", which we did before cuddling each other to sleep. The next morning there was just enough time to re-pack and race to get the shuttle.

Isn't it funny how sex is the last thing on your mind when you have an early flight to catch? I mean, even if I knew my plane was going to crash, I think I'd blow off morning sex so that I wouldn't be late getting to the airport!

Guy #4: June 2011. Cal - The generous (not me, him) vacation fuck.

En route to my vacation, I spent the whole flight thinking about having Fel's dick in my mouth and wondering who's would be next. I landed on the island at around noon and after claiming my bags, I headed for the shuttle to the resort, in which I sat next to a guy named Cal.

Cal was a slightly overweight, early-fifties, balding but dapper president of a company that had something to do with the oil industry. He was a good 'ol southern boy who wasn't shy about the fact that he was on the trip to get laid and who didn't try to hide his chauvinistic side. With him being quite a bit older and me being by myself, initially I wasn't very confident around him.

He was extremely charismatic and funny as hell, however, and by the time we got to the resort we were laughing like old friends. Less than twenty-four hours after having Fel's dick in my mouth, it became clear that Cal's cock was most likely bound for the same destination.

When we arrived, Cal took advantage of his VIP status and had his bags brought to his suite by the staff while he went straight to the bar. Meanwhile, I went to my room to put on a bikini. There were a bunch of orientational type events scheduled for the new guests, but I decided to blow them off and join Cal instead. On the walk over, I concluded that I would not immediately jump into a sexual encounter with him and instead take some time to simply relax and enjoy my vacation.

Well, after two very sweet, umbrella-adorned rum drinks and two very strong shots of tequila, I found myself inside of the very best suite on the property, sitting at the edge of a very luxurious armchair, very naked and with Cal's very erect penis greeting me at eye-level, looking very eager to be sucked.

I managed to glance over at the clock just before I opened my mouth to accommodate Cal's hard on and saw that it was 2:00 p.m. local time, meaning that it had only been about seventeen hours since the utmost tip of Fel's cock had first crossed the threshold of my lips the night before, time change noted. In a few seconds I was about to become sexual with two different men in a single twenty-four hour period for the first time in a few years.

Meanwhile, the plane I flew in on probably hadn't even taken off again yet.

Ladies (and some men too for that matter), you know how some guys' dicks seem to match up perfectly with your particular blowjob style? They're the perfect size and shape to take deep into your mouth without triggering your gag reflex? For me this Cal guy had one of those dicks and I made sure I let him know it by the way I sucked it.

It was immediately apparent that Cal was old-school and didn't believe in shaving his crotch. I can't say that I've had a ton of experience with unshaven genitals on my sex partners lately, but back in my late teens when I first started sucking cock I sure did. I think it was because guys that age had not yet come into their own as far as their personal grooming preferences, so it was easier to just do nothing and let that area go untrimmed. I didn't mind it then, so why should I mind it now?

Thus, I was more than happy licking Cal's hairy balls and taking his rough, bristly nut sac into my mouth repeatedly. Not to mention the inevitable plucking of his curly pubic hairs off of my tongue that came with it.

"Goddam, you suck a mean dick woman!"

I guess he was pleased.

"Go ahead and lean yourself back so I can eat that thing!" he said, almost unable to control his enthusiasm.

At that point I was sitting forward with my ass at the edge of the chair. Cal got on his knees and pushed on my shoulder so I would lay back in the seat. Then he lifted both of my legs up in the air by the ankles, spread them wide and lowered his face to begin eating me out.

"Eh, wait a second Cal." I said, filled with trepidation.

As drunk as I was, that still didn't keep me from being absolutely mortified about what Cal would think once he put his mouth on me. Remember folks, I did not take a shower when I got up that morning. There was only enough time for me to pack my stuff and scramble to catch my flight.

In fact, I hadn't showered since the previous afternoon before I left my house to meet Fel at the hotel. I had used the restroom several times since then and even had a bowel movement at the airport before getting on the plane (not out in the waiting area, I went into the ladies' room). Add in the fact that I was sweaty in between my legs from the high humidity on the island and it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that at that moment Cal was NOT dealing with a woman whose private areas were either fresh OR clean!

Seeing as how I was already naked, it would have only taken me about three minutes to quickly duck into the shower in Cal's suite, soap up, rinse off and be back in that armchair with my legs spread, clean and more than ready to have my cunt eaten. At one point I actually tried to close my knees with Cal still holding me by the ankles. But he was insistent.

"You're not changin' your mind on me now, are you?"

"No Cal, I just..."

"Then you quit all your fussin' and get those knees open right now and keep 'em open!" he said sternly.

Before he even finished the second "open", his face was already in between my legs and he was licking my wet pussy and sucking on my clit. His tongue soon found its way down to my asshole and smothered it with long, wet strokes.

As dubious as I may have felt about my own cleanliness before, I eventually realized that any remnants left over from handling my bathroom necessities and any stickiness and foul odor that may have existed on me at the start of our encounter, by now had been wiped up by Cal's tongue and washed away by his saliva.

He had licked me clean.

Free to relax, I surrendered to the toe-curling tongue lapping my pussy was receiving and Cal no longer had to have his hands clamped onto my ankles in order to keep my legs spread apart.

By now I was doing that on my own.

Intercourse with Cal was, well, lets say athletic. See, despite having a slight stomach, he was a tall and muscular man, so every time he wanted to change positions, he would lift me up and shift me around like a little toy. At one point he even stood up with me still attached to him and was fucking me while carrying me around the room.

Not to make it sound like he was traversing the suite flipping channels and checking his voice mails with me impaled on him, he wasn't, but we definitely did travel about the room a bit during that particular part of our session.

He had a hand cupped onto each of my butt cheeks and was using his grip on my ass to bounce me up and down on his cock. I remember feeling his dick really "bottom out" inside of me in that position and thinking,

"Ondra, this can NOT be good for your cervix - SHIT!"

I've actually never been fucked in this position by anyone before or since and, to tell you the truth, I don't think my insides can tolerate very much of that. With Cal holding me that way, it was all I could do to keep my arms and legs wrapped around him and keep from screaming in his ear every time my pussy slammed down onto his cock. I ended up just making these funny squeaking noises, kind of like the ones you make when you're trying not to let your sneeze escape all the way.

The whole time he'd be saying stuff like, "Yeah, you're gonna fucking get it now girl." in his misogynistic southern drawl.

Like what? I hadn't been "getting it" already? What the fuck else was left for him to do with me, toss me out the window?

With Cal I never got much of a chance to play with myself and to get all neurotic about my vaginal fluids like I usually do when I'm being fucked, because he was one of those men who liked to frequently change positions during sex. You know the type. You just get comfortable and start to concentrate on having a good, intense orgasm and boom, it's on to the next contortion. That's okay though, I came PLENTY during my time with Cal - BELIEVE ME!

Consistent with his chauvinistic side, Cal was the type of man who liked his lovers to get lost right after copulation, so I quickly got used to scampering back to my room with cum in between my legs.

The resort staff must have thought Cal was literally eating the monogrammed bathrobes, because each time we fucked, I would steal the one from his suite to wear for my walk back to my room and he'd have to call concierge services to request a replacement.

On the flip side, the staff responsible for cleaning my room must have thought that I had a terry cloth fetish.

When we weren't screwing, we didn't hang out together for whole days at a time. I'd work out and relax (or drink) in the mornings and afternoons, and then we'd text each other (expensive!) to meet up for lunch followed by sex or dinner followed by sex or both.

Well, now that I really think about it, it was usually for both and one of the days I think we actually fucked three different times. Whatever the number, we definitely outpaced the "four lays three nights" that everyone jokes about.

The only full night I spent with Cal was my last one. He woke me up at about 8:00 the next morning to get in one last fuck, but pulled his dick out of me after a couple of minutes and said, "Darlin', why don't we finish up in the shower." So in we went. The shower in Cal's suite was bigger than my whole bathroom at home, so it was easy for us take care of business in one area while the water was running in another.

"Oh, so THAT'S how you want to finish up!" he said as he reached to adjust the nozzle.

I thought he had said, "Why don't you finish ME off in the shower," so I just sat myself down on this little bench thingy that was in there and grabbed his dick to start sucking it.

He was probably surprised because I really hadn't spent all that much time giving him head during my stay. For all he knew I was like a lot of women who just do the obligatory suck-before-fuck and then don't want the guy's dick anywhere near their mouths after that.

Well, he didn't have my lips wrapped around his cock for more than a couple of minutes before he was "Oh fuck-ing" and "Oh shit-ing" his way to another ball-draining orgasm and depositing his good 'ol boy semen right onto that midway spot on my tongue that you folks already know is my ideal drop off point for accepting unfamiliar cum which I'm planning to swallow.

With his hand clenched firmly and almost painfully onto my chin, he held my head steady and told me to open my mouth again. As he squeezed the last bit of his gunk onto my tongue, he looked down at me and barked,

"Just what you wanted, that dirty little mouth of yours filled up with a big fat wad of my cum you filthy fucking slut!"

Hmm, I guess I finally knew what Cal really thought of me. After deriding me, he got right under the water to soap up without skipping a beat.

He was obviously expecting me to leave at that point, but instead I sat down on the floor of the shower with my back against the wall, my knees pulled up to my chest and my arms wrapped around my legs. I could still taste his seminal secretions on my tongue. All I could do was stare at my feet and think about the degrading way in which he had just spoken to me. How could he call me such a thing?

In my mind I played devil's advocate and attempted to see myself through Cal's eyes:

'I allowed him to completely remove my bikini and was sitting naked in a chair sucking his cock less than two hours after he met me and I willingly spread my legs for him close to ten separate times during my four day stay.'

That covered the slut part.

'I always left his suite sweaty, sticky, wreaking of sex and with his nasty cum oozing from my pussy. This time I would be leaving with my breath smelling like his semen.'

That covered filthy part.

If there was a case to be made that I WASN'T the "filthy fucking slut" Cal thought I was, I myself was having a hard time seeing it right at that moment.

I looked up at him as he continued to scrub any trace of me off of himself. The cleaner he became, the dirtier I felt. Was he even going to acknowledge that I was still in the shower with him?

When a woman is naked and curled up into a little ball on the floor of a shower, she's either going through some substance abuse related crisis, she's just received horrible news about her own health or she's devastated over some matter related to love or sex.

Didn't he know that? How fucking difficult was it for him to figure out I was upset about something?

Finally he looked down at me and said,

"Stop back and say goodbye before you go to the airport, would'ya?"

"UGH!"

I sprung to my feet, picked up a travel-sized bottle of shampoo and hurled it toward him as hard as I could.

"I HATE YOU!"

I shouted at him as I stormed out of the bathroom, gathered my things and ran out the door.

On the way back to my room, I grabbed a bottled water from one of the service carts. I couldn't wait to rinse the taste of Cal from my mouth. I took a drink but didn't swallow it. I just spit it out right onto the concrete. A hotel employee asked me if I was alright and if I needed any medical attention.

I responded, "Not unless you know how to pump semen from someone's stomach." and kept walking.

As I entered my room I felt ill and reached the toilet just in time to throw up. For the next twenty minutes I sat sobbing on the bathroom floor with my head leaning against the toilet's water tank.

I was a fucking pathetic mess.

Add the stench of vomit to the list of valid reasons why any man would have been completely justified in agreeing with Cal's 'filthy' description of me before.

I finally dragged myself into the shower, where I decided I would not be stopping by Cal's suite before I left. However, I changed my mind by the time I was finished packing. I had to make him apologize for treating me like crap both verbally and physically.

When I got there, Cal made no reference to the fact that I had stormed out earlier and instead handed me a pair of dirty panties that I apparently had forgotten after one of our previous romps. The crotch was hard and crunchy with dried secretions, which was normal for me because I usually had a really wet pussy by the time I got back to Cal's room after we hung out together, anticipating receiving another paramount fucking from him. But then I noticed something.

"Uh, these aren't mine, Cal."

"Oh, sorry 'bout that." he said nonchalantly as he snatched them back and draped them over the back of the same armchair that I first sat naked in three days prior.

My first instinct was to interrogate Cal as to how he found the time and desire to fuck another woman when I wasn't around.

Was she prettier and sexier than me?

Did he manhandle her during sex too?

Did she suck his dick more often and better than I did?

Just what about me wasn't enough for him?

What more could I have done?

I suddenly realized why he would make me leave his suite right after sex. It was almost comical. I mean, literally the second he would finish his orgasm and his cum was freshly dripping out of me, he would walk toward the shower while saying something like, "Call me later if you want to go to dinner," which meant, "Get out, I'm done with you for now!" He obviously had this other woman coming over.

So, like a fool I would always call and accompany him for a meal. And it's not like he was BUYING me dinner. The place was all-inclusive, so I had already paid for my own damn meals anyway!

I'd always end up back at his suite drunk and about to get fucked until I was sober again. Cal was so aloof at times that he was basically humping the mattress with my body happening to be in between. Sometimes it seemed as if my pussy was merely there to provide enough friction for his cock so that he could climax. I might as well have been a blowup doll.

After about forty-five seconds, I was so frustrated that I completely forgot why I had come to his room in the first place (Ooo, it still makes me SO MAD just thinking about it!). I decided to simply chalk the whole situation up to a lesson learned and say my goodbyes with a shred of dignity intact.

"Okay, it was nice meeting you." I said, as I offered a handshake.

Cal had his notebook computer fired up and before I left he gestured for me to take a look at the screen.

"Why don't you pick yourself out somethin' nice and we'll get it sent to you."

I was taken aback for a second as I looked at the prices of some of the stuff (By the way, the Cartier website is a real pain in the ass to navigate).

"How 'bout one of these?" suggested Cal.

That particular page didn't have anything less than $5,000!

"Are you sure about this?"

"Sometimes a young girl just starting out in life needs a little help. C'mon now, pick yourself out somethin' real pretty."

At first I felt like telling him, "Fuck you, I don't need any help!" But after the whole "panty incident" the spiteful Ondra figured, 'Why not?'

So, I picked out a $5,700 piece of jewelry, he put in my shipping information and his credit card number and he bought it for me. It arrived at my house a few days after I got back from my trip.

I'm not really much of a jewelry person, so I just sat on it for a couple of months before selling it online for a little less than the purchase price. I hadn't even thought of doing that until Kimberly brought it up. She's always buying shit online, whereas I'm more of a Costco and Walmart girl.

I had heard that this kind of thing happens to women more often than one would think, but I never thought it would happen to me.

All things considered, I guess I picked the right guy to fuck on vacation.

Guy #5: June 2011. John.

Having just returned from my trip on a Sunday, I met up with the girls the following Thursday night to fill them in on how it went. Chloe and Cara had taken the same car and showed up together, while Kimberly came sauntering in a few minutes after that.

"Hey, that John guy's here."

Chloe was referring to this gorgeous guy who we had seen there before and with whom I had passing conversations a couple of times. We referred to him simply as "That John Guy."

With all the girls assembled, I began to give a detailed account of (almost) everything that happened during my vacation, from the exotic meals I had eaten, to the exotic tropical fish I had seen while snorkeling, to the exotic positions in which I had gotten fucked every day. I left out the "filthy fucking slut" quote and the part about the other woman's panties.