tagMatureUp All Night Down Under

Up All Night Down Under

byeroticorgasm©

The Perth, Australia bar and grill was filled with American sailors and Marines -- they'd arrived a week ago and were to leave in two days. It was the fourth Thursday of November, and some of the troops looked bothered they were missing some American holiday called Thanksgiving. Something they wanted to spend in the States, not Perth.

She didn't know why they were so depressed. In America, it was about winter time -- here, on the other side of the Equator, it was summer and the beaches were filled with Aussie girls wanting American-accented military men.

Michelle had laughed about the idea earlier in the day. The last thing she wanted was a fling with some arrogant American, but her teenage coworker was praising the skills of a Marine she'd bedded the night before. When one insisted Michelle go out with "the guys," she'd initially declined. Then she thought she might just meet a friendly U.S. boy.

Michelle didn't want to go out with the company's old buggers. They were a bunch of arrogant asses she worked with at the timber company, but they persuaded her to go out. So here she was, with five old, ugly typical guys. They cracked jokes about the waitresses as they drank their beer, but Michelle was feeling okay after four rum and Cokes -- she didn't even hear the burly coworkers anymore. She was paying attention to the brown-haired American a table away.

How long had it been since she'd had sex? A year since her husband left her and her son? At least a year. Last night didn't count, because masturbation isn't sex unless a person is a nun or a priest -- and Michelle was far from that. She wasn't a whore, but she was definitely not a nun. She loved orgasms. She was approaching her sexual peak, being 33-years-old.

The man -- hell, not really a man, he couldn't have been older than 21 -- he was cute, and he smiled a lot. She liked that idea. He laughed with his two friends, and he smiled as they laughed at his jokes. Sure seemed like he would treat a woman right from a table away.

Navy photographer's mate 2nd class Nick Boston looked at his watch. It was 9:54 p.m. He smirked at his luck. Single and in Australia, he hadn't hooked-up once -- and he was on duty in eight hours. He'd decided to leave the Perth scene at 10 p.m., go back to USS Wake Island and get a good night of sleep before having to help the public affairs pukes with shipboard tours at Zero-Dark-30.

"John," he looked at one of his Marine friends, "I gotta fucking rack out. I'm going to leave." He was disappointed. He had fallen in love about 435 times an hour while walking the Perth and Fremantle streets; he had fallen in lust twice as many times; but it was all for naught. No sex, no kisses, nadda. A few nice smiles, but no sex. He would have to wait until the ship returned to its home port in Bremerton, Washington in December -- the girls there liked to cuddle up in the chilly weather.

Michelle saw the boy look at his watch and indicate he was leaving -- she saw him say "going to leave." Thank God they both spoke English. She sipped down her rum and Coke and got brave.

"HEY!" she yelled over the Rolling Stone's music. "Hey you!" The brown-haired man turned and looked at the blonde woman sitting surrounded by five husky Australia's. They looked like lumberjacks. He decided she wasn't talking to him and looked at his friends.

"She's talking to you, dude," John said.

"Huh?"

"Hey, you!" Michelle yelled again. If this didn't work, she was going to give up. She thought he was cute, but wasn't going to waste her efforts or self-esteem on a boy who wouldn't look at her twice.

"Me?" he asked, confirming. The woman smiled. "Yes, you. Come here. You and your friends, come here. Come talk with us. We like talking to American's. You are fun to hang out with."

That accent -- that Australian accent -- was drove him nuts. He loved the tone of her voice. She was pretty. Older, maybe 30 or 35, but pretty. Blonde hair to her shoulders. Big blue eyes, but somehow she looked sad. Like a person whose heart had slipped into the mighty Pacific Ocean. He sat down with his two friends and the group exchanged handshakes and how-do-you-dos. He was right, the Australians were lumberjacks like the men he knew in Washington State. The woman -- Michelle -- got up and forced the men to move one seat over so she could sit next to the American who she first noticed -- Nick.

"Hi," she leaned over to him, putting her chin on his bicep. She felt strength there. "Wow. Impressive," she smiled wrapping her hand around his arm. He hid his muscle in a loose fitting shirt -- most men would show that off, she thought. It made her desire him even more, but he looked so clueless to the notion -- like he was just going with the flow.

"Thanks," he smiled.

Michelle leaned up and kissed him, pulled back two inches and looked at him. He didn't try to jam his tongue in her mouth, he just accepted the kiss and kissed back lightly. It was the perfect first kiss. She felt him exhale, air brushing against her face -- he smelled fresh, his breath clean -- not like other men she'd been with, scented with two days of body odor and coffee. She wrapped her hand into his and kissed him harder, flickering her tongue into his mouth.

Okay, he decided, I'm not going to make 10 p.m. Taps-taps-lights-out on the ship tonight. I'm going to stay in Perth for a little while longer. I'll be back onboard before midnight, though. Probably.

"I've got a secret to tell you," she said, leaning closer and whispering into his ear. "I'm going to fuck the hell out of you tonight."

Midnight suddenly sounded a little early.

"You two should go get a room," a sailor said at the table. Laughter erupted among the seven guys drinking beer and talking dick-and-fart jokes while they looked at the couple acting like 15-year-olds making out for the first time. "A fuckin' room," one of the lumberjacks added. More laughter, but Michelle just glared into Nick's eyes and stood up.

"We are. Bye." She lead him by the hand and embraced him as he stood up. It was the first time their entire bodies touched in the dark but-lively-bar. Her body was electrified, like she was on her honeymoon again -- except this was different. This man liked to smile, unlike her exhusband. He bitched and complained like a girl with acne at the Christmas formal dance.

Michelle felt his body -- as much as she could without being booted out quickly. The boy was about a half-metre taller than her, and felt ripped underneath his clothes -- but it wasn't something a person would know just looking at him. He had no body fat she could feel. His hazel-green eyes looked down into hers. His skin was tanned with freckles on the back of his shoulders. She wanted him. She repeated the fact to him.

"I'm going to fuck the hell out of you tonight."

This is insane, Nick thought. This is going to be some terrible joke. This chick's going to have a dick or something. I don't have this kind of luck. Beautiful women go for jerks, I've seen it four thousand times -- why did she pick me? And she was beautiful, the more he looked at her, the more he realized it. Fifteen years ago, she was probably the queen of her high school prom -- or whatever they have down here down under. She had a small body and small breasts -- but he liked the idea of holding all of her in his arms -- if it wasn't a terrible joke or transvestite looking to upend his night.

Ten minutes later, they were checking into a nice hotel three blocks away. Nick asked for a room with a spa and balcony. If it did go south, he wanted to at least be able to get some rest himself. They kissed in the elevator and he reached his fingers up and down Michelle's body. Spreading her legs apart and pressing his hand against her pussy, he felt how she melted against him.

She wanted to cum right there -- right in the lift. Why had he called it an elevator? Funny language differences, American's saying a lift is an elevator. Well, hopefully "fuck" means the same thing in both versions of English -- so far it seemed like Nick translated it the same way she did, despite their different nationalities and the apparent generation gap.

He fumbled with the cardkey to the room and they kissed frantically like it was their night of losing virginity. For Michelle, it had been 15 months since her ex-husband last touched her. For Nick, his last affair was with a friend of his named Jenni from a coffee house in Bremerton.

Nick pulled off Michelle's gray sweatshirt, her small breasts held in place by a gray bra. He nuzzled against her body. Her white skin tasted like heaven as he ran his teeth and tongue against her sternum. His hands darted up her back, massaging the back of her ribs with the palm of his hand and unclipping her bra with the second. It fell to the floor revealing her 32B breasts -- her nipples hard in the excitement of the moment.

He returned to her lips, took off his shirt and held her close.

"Michelle ... we don't have to do anything if you don't want to," he offered. He hated the idea of taking advantage of a lonely woman, no matter where he was at.

"What did I tell you before?" she smiled.

"Um."

"I told you I'm going to fuck the hell out of you. Now, get on the bed," she smiled, pushing him down onto the comforter. She straddled his waist and touched his body while he kissed her chest. No body fat on him, she thought again. She never was with a better-looking man. She felt intimidated, like he would suddenly realize he could do better and leave her in this room. And she didn't need that now. She wanted to get laid.

His hands caressed her waist, breasts, shoulders and neck as she reached back to grab his crouch with her left hand.

"Damn," he breathed. "You're so beautiful."

"You're just saying that because my hands on your nads," she spoke with her accent flooding his ears.

"No. You are really so beautiful. Why are you so sad?"

She leaned to his face and kissed him.

"I'm not sad, love. I'm not sad tonight. Be happy with me."

He rolled Michelle onto her back and weighed his body against her. He knew one way to make her happy. He pulled down her grey stretch pants and panties in one motion -- she kicked off her shoes.

He stood, looked down at her and wish he had his camera for the moment. She was beauty. He slowly pulled off her socks and kissed from her Achilles' Heel, calf muscle and ran his tongue -- firmly running it up beyond her knee. Her legs spread as his head pried them open, his hands wrapped in back, holding her ass -- and he pressed his mouth against the woman's warm, wet passion. Her hair down under was unlike any other women he had pleasured. It was soft, blonde. Some girls had steel brush for pubic hair, but not this one. He thought he would never tire of tasting this woman -- and he didn't have to worry about bristle-rash.

Michelle's legs rested on Nick's shoulders and back. God, she was feeling so wet by just looking at the boy -- and now he was pleasing her. It was like a fantasy she'd never even considered coming true. A handsome American sailor ravaging her -- not some lame boyfriend who used her as a penis-outlet for 13 seconds a night.

She gyrated as he tongued her, lashing against her pussy. When was the last time anybody gave her oral? she thought. Not in her five years of marriage -- and just twice while they'd been engaged -- and that was lousy. Someone had taught this sailor well -- he seemed happy where he was at, and Michelle let him know she appreciated it. Heat climbed up her loins and through her spinal cord. She matted his hair as she held his head between her legs softly.

"Oh, God. That's amazing. That feels good, hon. So good -- oh so good."

It just encouraged him. He sucked on her clit harder, freed one of his hands and played with her clit -- then sank a finger into her while he sucked on her clit and lips of her pussy. The snapping of wetness make him urn to be inside her, but he kept licking until she was screaming in ecstasy.

"OH -- Oh my, YES YES!" she yelped. She flailed clawing Nick's neck with one hand and set of fingernails, and grabbing a pillow with the other to scream into hoping to contain the ecstasy. The fingernails scratched him, and he felt an instant of pain and pleasure. He kissed back up her body and laid his weight onto her. "You okay?" he asked.

"I am so okay," she confirmed, pushing him over and straddling his body. "Do you have protection?" Michelle asked.

"Um, I am a believer in the Second Amendment," he smiled.

"What?" she asked confused.

"Forget it. Dumb American joke. Yes. I have condoms."

"What do you call it?"

"Condoms."

"Oh -- you mean rubbers?"

"Yeah," he smiled. "That's what I called them in seventh grade when I was as likely to use them as I was likely to use an AARP card."

"AARP card? What is that?"

"Um, forget it," he smiled. Some humor doesn't translate. She kissed his lips and bare chest as he fished for the protection in his front pocket. He'd grabbed them from the quarterdeck -- partially as a joke, but he didn't know. Now, he was glad it did ... this would be a hell of a time to be looking for condoms.

Her naked body straddled him and unbuttoned his jeans, ripping them down. She looked at his white Fruit of the Loom briefs and squealed in laughter.

"What is that?" Michelle said incredulously.

"What is what?" Nick asked. Suddenly, he felt stupid. Was the hardness stretching from his underwear so embarrassingly small that it just made this woman giggle insultingly.

"What are this?" she grabbed the underwear.

"Underwear."

"They aren't right."

"What do you mean?" he laughed.

"I've never seen underwear like these before."

"There briefs," he smiled. "Boxers aren't easy to come buy on Navy ships. Don't ask me why. Some subrule of 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' or something."

"What?"

"Forget it, Michelle. Briefs are pretty common for Americans. I prefer boxers, but don't have any on this trip. I left comforts at home."

"Oh." She rubbed the hardness underneath and looked at the 21-year-old. His body was V-shaped, like he worked out exclusively to have sex and make women wet. It was so well-hidden in the clothes he wore, though, that it made her feel that much more pleased with her moments of bravery that brought her to this point.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard," she smiled again.

He held up the condoms from his jeans. He'd brought a packet of nine -- again, partially as a joke. God knew he would never need more than two in a given night -- three max.

"Rubbers, ma'am." She grabbed the LifeStyle packet and ripped it open. It had been ten years since she'd used one, but the were like bicycles -- and she wanted to be riding this one right now. She pulled Nick's brief's down and pulled on his cock. It was large -- larger than her other lovers. Not frightenly large, but probably nine inches and thick. She thought about going down on him, but decided she just wanted to feel it inside her. A blow job could wait until another moment of the night.

Michelle encased the cock in the safe-sex device and slowly lowered herself down -- the hardness spreading her pussy apart -- her pussy slowly letting the 21-year-old inside her. It took forever -- but she loved every moment of it. She braced her hands on his large chest and started fucking him. Her hair hung down and she kissed him, going faster and faster as she rode him -- then leaned back and fucked him while she played with her clit. His hands squeezed her legs and knees -- and two fingers visited hers at her pussy.

"Oh yea! Oh yes!" she yelled. "Oh God -- mmm ..." her tone turned erotic -- she was going to cum again. She rapidly pounded herself onto the American, her breasts shaking, her hair shifting from side-to-side, up-and-down. "OH ... GOD," she came again.


They fucked for 25 minutes and four positions before he took her from behind, grabbing her hips and slamming into her doggie style. She screamed back into the pillow coming over and over before his cock finally erupted into the rubber. Her body felt like it was being held a yard above a lava flow. Nick exited his body, the condom filled with his cum. He took it off and smiled, partly happy the LifeStyle worked through all the heat.

Twenty minutes later, they were fucking each other again -- she racked her nails on his chest, scratches coming from it in red burns. They made love slowly and then quickly -- intensely. They fell asleep in each other's arms for an hour and woke up longing for each other.

"I think I have an overactive prostrate," he laughed as his hardness penetrated into Michelle again.

"I don't mind," she squealed. "I don't mind at all."

After ten minutes of lovemaking, they decided to get into the spa. They walked into the bathroom and turned on the hot water. They kissed and danced. Michelle pulled the latest rubber off his now lowering member.

"What happened?" she said.

"What do you mean?"

"What's wrong with your cock?" she looked stunned. Nick looked down. One side of his cock was brown and purple. Oh crap, he feared, this girl isn't a transvestite, but she's got some vicious STD that has eaten through condom-rubbers and is eating away my penis' flesh. He reached down and examined it. It was painful. He calmed for a moment and then realized the problem.

"Oh my God, Michelle," he laughed. "You bruised my cock."

She giggled and then frowned. "I'm sooo sorry. I didn't mean too, I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It was worth it," Nick smiled. He looked at the clock. It was 2 a.m. -- somehow he was going to have to remember that he had to make it back to his ship before 8 a.m. muster.

Michelle lowered herself down to her knees. "I'm going to kiss that to try to make it better," she said, inhaling Nick's cock in her mouth. She put her hands on his hips as she began deep throating him. She was happy she decided to fuck the hell out of him -- but she decided he had fucked the hell out of her as well. She hoped the night wasn't going to be over for several more hours.

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