tagErotic HorrorA Dozen Oysters

A Dozen Oysters


This is a copyrighted original work of fiction. All rights reserved.

All characters featured herein are at least eighteen years of age, even if not expressly stated. Any resemblance between actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Many thanks to Michael B for the fine editing work.

Many thanks to blackrandl for organizing and including me in the Literotica Writers Go West event.

This work may not be copied or distributed without the exclusive written permission of this author.


Through the window at the airport boarding lounge I watched the vehicle hauling luggage trollies collide with the loading hatch on the side of the jet. Just great, a delay. Over the next few minutes there were lots of flashing lights next to the plane. My late-night flight from Omaha's Eppley Airfield to New York's LaGuardia was eventually cancelled.

No other flights to NYC were available that night. Not from any carrier.

I did notice the good-looking woman standing behind me in line at the Delta counter. She had a thick mane of black hair, Rolling Stones luscious red lips and probably too much makeup.

The airline gave me chits for an overnight stay at the Islington Hotel, airline limo rides to and from and promised to have me on a rescheduled flight first thing the next morning.

"The Islington Hotel?"

"It's new. It's quite nice," said the clerk.

"Okay." I rolled my eyes at the young lady.

I saw luscious lips again as I waited to collect my suitcase at the now almost deserted baggage carousel area. She was very shapely. About my age, late forties. Nice legs. Red high heels to match those gorgeous lips.

Outside I waited in line again for my limo to pull up.

"Care to share a limo?" It was her. "I happen to know you're going to the Islington too."

"Sure, why not."

"I'm Darla." She held out her hand. There were numerous rings on her fingers and manicured red nails.

"Ray Harris, nice to meet you." Her hand was warm to the touch.

"I just hate it when shit like this happens," I said to Darla as I climbed into the back of the limo, "I'm totally screwed for tomorrow."

"Yeah but people understand, it happens to everyone who travels," she answered smiling. She had a lovely particular mid-western accent which I came to know was unique to rural Nebraska.

"I suppose, but it's so damn annoying," I answered.

"I hear you."

"I've a meeting at 10:00 am in Manhattan. They're just going to carry on without me. At best I'll get there as the meeting breaks up. If it runs late."


"I'm being paid to be there. Now I can't do my job."

"Oh. So what is it that you do for a living?" she asked, clearly not adding...that's so important.

"Err, I'm a...I'm in the cattle industry."

"Oh, you're a cowboy." Her expressive big brown eyes seemed surprised. "You don't look the part."

I had to laugh, "No I guess don't."

"I mean, you aren't wearing the right clothes. No boots, no hat. And you don't have the accent."

"I'm Canadian. We have cows in Canada too you know."


I chuckled, "No I'm not a cowboy, but fundamentally I still look after animal welfare, albeit, in a lawyerly way."

"So, cattle need lawyers now?"

"Canadian cattle do, that's for sure. Certainly, with the latest political trade posturing."

Darla was laughing, "So what do the cattle pay you with then?"

"Ha! Well let me tell you this, there's a lot of bullshit in the cattle business. I get my fair of that."

She laughed. We were pulling up to the hotel. It looked okay. Not big. Nothing in Omaha is, except the sky.

"Tell me Darla, without me prying...New York?"

"My little sister summoned me. She needs her big sister's shoulder to cry on. Again." She smiled at me sardonically. The limo pulled up to the front door.

I let her check in first. I watched her fine looking ass in her tight skirt and calf muscles flex as I stood behind her at the desk, waiting in line. She had me keep an eye on her bag while I checked in myself. She nipped off to the tuck shop which was seemingly just about to close.

We rode up in the elevator together.

She had room 604. I had room 606, right next to her at the end of the hall.

I locked the door behind me and safety chained it as I stepped inside. The room was standard, nicely decorated. The Islington did a great job. Free WiFi. Nice flat screen TV. King sized bed, nice mattress. Coffee maker. Mini fridge stocked with booze and drinks. I couldn't complain. Except, that I was going to be hours late in New York the next day thanks to the idiot loading the jet airliner.

There was a locked common door between Darla's room and mine.

I took a hot shower. It was nice, the water pressure was great. Steamy hot water battered my skin giving me some respite after the airport ordeal and my whole Omaha crazy cattleman's meetings day in general.

"What the fuck?" I said out loud to myself as I stepped out of the shower. Written with finger on the steamed up mirror was EAT ME.

Who the fuck broke in while I was having a shower?

I quickly dressed in the white hotel bathrobe, half expecting to confront someone in the room itself.

There was no one there. The door to the hall was still locked and chained. The common one to Darla's room was still locked too.

What the fuck?

As I dried myself off, suddenly from under the door to Darla's room a folded piece of paper slipped into my room.

Drink and a bite?


I opened the door just to find another one behind it. I knocked on that one.

Darla opened it. She had removed her jacket and was wearing a white blouse with pearl necklace. Nice tits; was my immediate reaction. Her shoes were off.

I handed her the note back, smiling, "No complications okay?"

She had a bright smile with straight white teeth under those juicy red lips. She took the note from me. "Absolutely not. How was the shower?"

"Hot and steamy." I tossed my towel into the corner.

"Oooh, how nice. But you're not exactly dressed to slip down to the bar."

"Come here, I want to show you something." I was, kind of in a way, confronting her. I just wanted to gauge her reaction.

She stepped into my room in stocking feet. I could see red polish on her toe nails through her sheer nylons. She followed me to the bathroom. The words were faded but still visible on the mirror.

"You didn't write that?" she asked. She seemed genuinely surprised.

"No!" I exclaimed.

"You know I could," she grinned, "I could eat you right up."

What? I didn't say anything. I just stood there momentarily confused.

"How about that drink then? Are you going to get dressed or should we just order up?"

"Are you looking for a full meal?"

"No, but I wouldn't mind a small bite," she grinned.

As I opened the mini-fridge I asked, "Where exactly would you like to be bitten Darla?"

She smirked back in response and asked, "Is there any red wine?"

"No wine at all," I answered closing the door. She walked over to the table and picked up the room service menu.

"The kitchen is still opened." She read it for a moment then held it open towards me with an outstretched arm. Her red fingernails contrasted with the white paper. "Do you see anything you might like?" She held her grin.

I looked at the menu for a second and then into Darla's dark brown eyes. "It all looks delicious to me." Her grin widened. "What are you having?" I added.

"I thought we could share."


She looked at the menu again. "How about a dozen fresh oysters on the half shell and a couple of soft buns? My treat."

I chuckled. "Fine. I like soft buns. I'll buy the wine. Red or white?"

"Red. Italian. Something full bodied." She picked up the phone and ordered the food charging it to her room. "And a bottle of Chianti Classico charged to room 606. Yes, all to be delivered to 606."

All of a sudden I felt a little uncomfortable and foolish dressed only in a bathrobe. I was definitely in a situation where I could accidently expose myself. My clothes, including my underwear were draped over my unzipped suitcase that was on the foldout stand in the closet across from the bathroom door. I started to pick them up.

"Oh don't get dressed on my part. In fact, if you don't mind, I'll have a quick shower myself while room service comes up."


And with that she waltzed out of my room and into hers while undoing the clasp of her necklace. She purposely left the doors open. I resisted the temptation to sneak a peek as she undressed just around the corner.

She wanted me to stay dressed just in the bathrobe. Wow!

What the fuck was I getting into? I knew nothing about her. Although I was separated for years, I hadn't a clue about her marital status. With all the rings on the fingers I didn't even try to discern if one was a wedding band. Whatever her status was, she was apparently quite fine with what was transpiring. It was no business of mine. No complications, she agreed.

I heard the shower go on in her bathroom.

I sat crossed legged on the bed in my room and turned on the TV. I was aware that my balls were hanging out from under the bathrobe.

Fox News was reporting the beheading of yet another American journalist. I flipped the channel before I could see anything graphic. A lion was carrying a limp gazelle in its jaw. I flipped again. Cop show of some sort, some guy was shot up. Flip again, a documentary about Stanley Kubrick. Okay that I could watch. A few minutes later they cut to a scene from The Shinning; bright red blood flooding the corridor in front of the elevator doors.

What the fuck?

I turned off the TV.

Knock at the door, "Room service." That was quick. I closed my door to Darla's room for her modesty's sake as I stepped towards the hall door.

I tipped the young man ten bucks after he dragged the trolley into the room. A dozen oysters on the half shell sat on a bed of crushed ice cubes. The dish was decorated with lemon wedges and parsley. The trolley was covered in white linen and had linen napkins. There was a small bottle of Tabasco sauce next to the basket of soft buns. The buns were nice soft dinner style rolls, round, about the size of a small orange. Half were whole wheat. It was all very classy except for the dish of individual plastic daubs of butter with the easy removable paper tops. That was definitely Motel 6.

"The oysters are from Malpeque," said the young man.

"Excellent," I said.

He opened the bottle of Chianti and sniffed the cork like a pro. The cork was stamped with a little black rooster. "Enjoy," he said as walked out of the door.

As I locked and chained us back up I heard the slight clang of water hammer in the pipes. Darla had finished her shower. I opened the door back up to her room.

About a minute later, "Ray?"

I poked my head into her room, "Yes?" The door to her bathroom was open, I could see steam coming out and a fuzzy white reflection on her steamed up mirror.

"Could you come here for a second?"

I walked over to the doorway to her bathroom. She was dressed in a white bathrobe and her black hair was wrapped in a white towel.

She smirked at me and then very deliberately wrote O in the mirror, "I know how that happened on your mirror," followed by K. She then wiped the letters off with a hand towel clearing a viewing area in the mirror.

I was stunned, speechless.

Her skin looked white without her make-up on. She picked up her lipstick and unscrewed it exposing bright red, "Someone wrote those words in lipstick," she applied red lipstick to her beautiful lips, smacked her lips together and then added, "and even though it was cleaned off, enough wax remains on the glass to prevent steamy water vapour from clinging." She smiled with those bright full lips.

"Okay, makes sense to me."

"Ohh kay?" She smirked as she did the tube of lipstick back up and placed it in her pocket.

"Room service came."

"Great, I'm dying for a drink. How do I look?" She asked as she looked at herself in the cleared off section of the steamy mirror again.

"Delicious," I couldn't help myself.

With a smirk she made sure I saw, she walked past me out of the bathroom. I followed her as she marched barefoot, with red toe nails, out of her room and into my mine.

She was not shy, that was for sure.

"Ohhh lovely," she said as she spotted the trolley.

I poured two glasses of wine and handed her one. I noticed all of her jewelry was off as she took the glass and said, "Bon appetite."

I raised my glass, "Bon appetite indeed."

She smirked again before taking a good mouthful, "Oh I needed that," she set her glass down on the trolley and said, "Do you mind if I start?"

"No, not at all."

She leaned over the trolley and picked up a wedge of lemon. Her bathrobe gaped open as she squeezed the lemon onto an oyster. I was sure she was aware that I could see the fullness of her boob. Smiling she straightened herself up with a half shell of oyster in her hand and proceeded to slurp it into her mouth. I watched the muscles on her neck move as she swallowed.

"Ohh lovely," she gasped, "I can taste the sea in that." She gave her succulent red lips a slight lick. Her dark brown eyes bore into mine.

I couldn't believe how erotic that was, watching her eat the oyster. My cock was stirring.

She pulled the white towel from her long, shiny and still damp black hair. The towel landed on the floor under the TV. With both hands she fluffed out her hair from the back of her neck and gave her head a shake.

I picked up an oyster from the tray and applied a few drops of lemon juice accidentally dropping a pip into the shell. As a carefully chased the pip out with my fingernail I said to Darla, "These are Canadian oysters."

"Oh?" She seemed a little surprised.

"They're from Malpeque Bay in Prince Edward Island, probably the oyster's northern limit on the Atlantic coast of North America. With the lemon pip successfully removed I slurped the raw oyster into my mouth. "Mmmm."

"Do Canadian oysters need lawyers too?"

"Ha!" I nearly choked as I swallowed, "I'm sure they have plenty of representation," I gasped back at her.

We both reached for and picked up our wine glasses, raised our glasses slightly towards each other and grinning to each other before taking our sips. She was beyond sexy. My cocked stirred as she put her wineglass back down onto the trolley.

"May I? She asked as she picked up an oyster and a wedge of lemon while purposely letting her bathrobe droop again.

"Of course." Why was she asking?

"Lemon?" She held the wedge over the oyster.

"Oh, it's for me. Then, yes please." She squeezed lemon onto the half shell.


"No, I'm good." She stepped up to me as she placed the spent lemon wedge on the ice. With the manicured fingers on left hand she stroked my chin coaxing my mouth open. Her right hand held the oyster. Gently she placed it to my lips and tilted. I slurped it in.

Oh it was good. "Outstanding." I said. She was smiling.

She put the empty shell onto the plate then stepped in front of me and placed her hands on my shoulders. Her luscious red lips slightly parted as she gazed up into my eyes.

I held my hands around her waist, then slowly slid them up her back. I bent my neck towards her and kissed her on the lips.

It started out a soft sensuous kiss, then she pulled herself closer to me and pressed her lips into mine. I opened my lips while still kissing her. Her tongue jabbed into my mouth, pressing harder still.

Holy shit! This woman was on fire.

I broke off the kiss. Hot breath hissed from her. Her dark brown eyes shone into mine.

"Hmm, I can still taste the sea," she said. We kissed again. She was purring and moaning as she pressed her lips to me. My cock was definitely growing.

"Allow me," I picked up an oyster and a wedge, "lemon?"

"Yes please."


"No thank you."

My cock poked out through the bathrobe. It was inevitable given the situation. Five manicured fingers from her right hand latched onto my cock as she stepped up to the oyster, "Mmmm, mouthwatering."

I couldn't help but smile as she opened up and slurped back the oyster. She squeezed on my shaft as she savored the flavor of the oyster. Again I watched the muscles move on her beautiful neck as she swallowed the oyster.

"Malpeques are the best," I said.

"Definitely big and juicy. Meaty," she licked her lips. "The tastiest," she said as she continued to squeeze my cock, giving it a little stroke. She held her smile.

I put the oyster shell down and picked up my wineglass. She didn't let go of me while I took a sip. She was looking at my cock. "Very nice, Ray. I'm impressed."

I put the wine glass down and slipped my right hand inside her bathrobe. I immediately found warm bush. I gently dragged my middle finger along her labia, "I found another oyster."

"Care to taste?" she smirked at me while giving my cock a good squeeze.

"Let's eat the oysters first."

"Ohhh," she did a very convincing disappointed look.

"Just think of them as an appetizer before the main meal."

"But I'm hungry now." A huge grin washed across her face. She pulled me by my cock towards her and lifted her lips to mine. I angled my neck to her and kissed her bright red lips. She was hot. I gently scratched at her pussy. As I pulled my lips away she gently bit my lower lip, just enough to send the message home.

"I can't wait," she whispered.

Wow. I needed another sip of wine. My heart was pounding. I'm sure she felt my pulse through my cock.

I undid my bathrobe belt, while she held onto my throbbing cock and stared into my eyes. I let the robe slide backwards off my arms. Her left hand immediately found my chest hairs. Bright red manicured fingernails plowed through the dark hairs, "You're a sexy man Ray Harris." She stroked my right upper peck, my right shoulder and bicep with her left hand while her right cheek pressed against my chest. My right arm was still buried in her snatch. She still held onto my cock.

I pulled my hand away from her snatch. "Darla, you're going to have to let go of my cock or the ice under those oysters will melt."

Ohhh," she let go and sighed with that convincing disappointed look again. A massive smirk crossed her face as she picked up her wine glass again and took a sip.

"Your turn," she said setting the glass down again. She undid the belt on her bathrobe. It crumpled on the floor behind her as it slid off her slender arms.

Her tits were fantastic. Big. Shapely. Huge, dark brown areola with massive meaty nipples, pointing up and out. Her chest was pushed out at me and both arms were extended down and behind her in memory of the bathrobe's departure. Her belly was flat but with a tiny rise from her fuzzy black pubic mound. Her shapely hips framed the nice ass that I knew she had. Legs, everything...perfect.

"My god you're beautiful Darla."

She smiled coyly but said nothing.

My hands trembled a little as I picked up another oyster and lemon wedge. I squeezed the lemon and slurped back the oyster.

She smiled at me as she watched me pick up and load another oyster with a few drops of lemon. I slurped it back but did not swallow. I put the shell and wedge down and stepped in front of Darla. My hands went to her waist. Her hands found my shoulders. I angled my neck down.

We kissed. I passed the oyster to her with juice and all. She swallowed without breaking the kiss and then proceeded to ream out my mouth with her tongue in search for more.

My cock was throbbing pressed up to her pelvis.

She broke the kiss, lightly licked her lips again while staring into my eyes. "Mmmm so good."

She stepped away from me and picked up her wine glass. After taking a sip, her face turned towards me, "Your turn." She grinned as she set her glass back down. "Would you like to try one with a little Tabasco this time?"

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