A "One Off?"

A "One Off?"

If you require stories where all cheaters must be burned, please do not read this offering; you will get indigestion, and I don't want that.

# # #

I always wondered why I was so straight-laced, anal-retentive, and a rule follower; was it heredity, environment, or both? I'm sure that my name, Chauncey C. Prendergast, had something to do with it.

It could be hereditary since both my parents, and both sets of grandparents, were conservative and unusually fussy. However, since everything that the six of them taught me was also conservative, precise, OCD, and/or conforming, it could certainly be environmental. It was a long time, and an unusual experience, before I answered that question to my satisfaction.

Because my family is rich, in addition to being straight-laced, rule-followers, and anal-retentive, I always attended exclusive private schools where most of the students were similar to me -- even if not to the same extreme. We all wore coats and ties the entire year, and pressed shorts with a crease during warm weather. I was distinguished at school only because of my size; by my junior year in High School (actually College Preparatory School) I was 6 feet 5 inches (2 meters) tall and 230 pounds (104 kg), my adult height and weight. I never actually did work; the only times that I was sweaty were playing power forward in basketball or tight end (boy did that name fit me) in football, or when weightlifting to prepare for those sports, always with pressed uniforms or workout clothes.

I went to Princeton and always wore slacks with a crease in them and designer shirts. My hair was always perfectly coifed. I never drank beer, only fancy cocktails and those in moderation, and I was the staunchest supporter of the honor code. I only dated women who were as close to anal-retentive as I was -- maybe even OCD. I took courses that prepared me for a life as a proper corporate executive enjoying a good existence in NYC with 2.4 children and a nanny.

I met my future wife Anastasia Carnegie when we were both seniors at Princeton. She is a large woman, 5 feet 11 inches (1.8 meters) tall, 142 pounds (65 kg), but even more elegant than she is big, always dressed perfectly in designer clothes, with regular trips to spas and high end beauty parlors, as befits the daughter of an S&P 1000 COO. She is as much a rule-follower and as straight-laced as I am.

Anastasia and I had a large (400+ guests) expensive wedding with a reception at the Gramercy Park Hotel, and started out life in an apartment owned by our parents in Manhattan overlooking Central Park and with corporate jobs, making both sets of parents satisfied. We had some difficulties in our corporate jobs in relating to some other employees because they weren't like us, but we coped and weren't pejorative.

While I would say that both Anastasia and I enjoyed life to the fullest, it may have been because we didn't know what else life had to offer. Our sexual encounters were pleasant, but not close to earth-shattering. Neither of us was especially fond of oral, and anal was definitely off the table. All of our friends were just like us, conservative, designer clothes, corporate jobs, etc.

# # #

Anastasia and I had been married three years, and we were both twenty six, when we went to a popular resort in North Carolina for a week; mostly pleasure but with one business meeting for each of us. The resort had an excellent reputation, although it wasn't formal like the normal five-star resorts we frequented (especially with our parents), like the Greenbrier, or the Four Seasons in Jackson Hole, or the Grand Hyatt Kauai Resort & Spa. The clientele was much more eclectic than we were used to, but neither of us considered ourselves snobs or bigoted even if some others might consider us that, so just like we were at work we weren't judgmental or uncomfortable.

There were several couples that were particularly intriguing since we never associated with people like them in our cloistered upbringing. One couple was a tall thin elegant-looking black man and a wiry Asian woman with unusually large tits. Another was a muscular black woman who looked like Serena Williams and a thin older white guy with long hair and rose-colored glasses. Yet another was an always provocatively dressed small white woman with a pretty face, red-and-green streaked hair, and obvious body piercings, paired with a small white guy who also had body piercings, blue hair, and outrageous outfits.

I found the last-mentioned couple especially interesting. I often glanced over at the woman and sometimes noticed her glancing at me. We even exchanged smiles a few times, although no words. I found it especially enjoyable to watch her when she was dancing to fast dances -- she was extremely athletic and incendiary.

Anastasia and I were having a good time, participating in a number of activities and going on a number of outings, and dining and dancing at the resort most nights. I believe it was the fourth night of our stay, luckily after we had each had our one business meeting, when an unusual event occurred. One of the items served was a seafood dish that I didn't like the looks of and cautioned Anastasia not to eat; however she loved seafood and knew that I didn't so she pooh-poohed my concerns.

We were eating dinner with another couple who were as close to as conservatively dressed as we were when during dessert, about twenty minutes after we had finished our main course, Anastasia started cramping. Her condition progressed to a flushed face, hives, and then -- right at the table -- vomiting. The scared waiter and maître de rushed over, but soon their attention was directed to other parts of the venue by others having the same reaction as Anastasia.

All hell broke loose in the dining room. Once I cleaned Anastasia up -- a very unpleasant task for someone as anal-retentive as I was -- I carried her to our room after being assured by the resort assistant manager -- who was now in the dining room dealing with the shit-show -- that the on-staff doctor would promptly meet us in our room.

After Anastasia vomited some more in our suite's bathroom I took off her outer garments and put her in our bed. The doctor soon arrived; he seemed to diagnose the problem immediately because of the number of others who suffered the same fate as Anastasia; scombroid poisoning from the seafood.

The doctor gave Anastasia a sedative cocktail that would mitigate her symptoms and put her out. By the time, five minutes later, that the doctor was ready to leave to attend to others Anastasia was snoring so loudly that it sounded like a freight train.

"How long will she be out, doctor?"

"At least ten hours, probably twelve."

"Is it important that I stay here with her -- I can't sleep given the noise that she is making."

"No, she will be out and needn't be attended to. Ask the assistant manager for another room, and just check on her every three or four hours."

I gave Anastasia a kiss on her forehead, made sure that she was covered by a sheet and blanket, and then went to see the assistant manager.

While the assistant manager was reluctant to give me another room, she relented when I pointed out to her the resort's liability for serving bad food, and the fact that we had one of the most high-end rooms in the place. She comped me a basic room that was unoccupied.

I checked out the spare room, and it would do well enough to get a few hours of sleep between checks on Anastasia. However, I was too charged up to sleep then, so I went to the main bar. The only open seat at the bar was next to an old guy in a fancy suit who I hadn't seen before and the little woman with the provocative clothes, pretty face, body piercings, and red and green streaked hair, whose purse was "saving" the seat.

"Is this seat saved?" I inquired.

"Yes, for you," she giggled.

I sat next to her and ordered a Moscow Mule.

The little woman looked at me; "Isn't your wife the one who started the shit-show in the dining room?" she asked with a grin.

"I'm afraid so," I replied.

"Then you're probably escaping your room just like I am because my husband is totally out of it after the doc tor's visit, and won't be awake for twelve hours or so."

"Is he snoring as loudly as my wife?"

"Sure is -- I don't know how I'm supposed to sleep with that racket."

"I got another room comped so I hope to get at least a few hours of sleep in between checking on her."

"Well aren't you the industrious one," she cackled.

"What's your name, by the way?" I asked, holding out my hand.

"I think that tonight I'll go by Calamity Jane, and call you Paul Bunyan," she replied with a diabolical grin as she shook my hand with a surprisingly strong grip.

"Paul Bunyan and Calamity Jane, huh?" I laughed. "Looks like you're into American Folk lore."

I then proceeded to have one of the most unusual conversations of my life with Calamity Jane. I could tell that she was really smart by the things that she said and her vocabulary, and wasn't surprised that she graduated from Oberlin College, an excellent liberal arts college that is a hotbed of liberalism and individuality. It was also clear that her family had some bucks too, not only because she and her husband could afford the $750/night rate at the resort but because her clothing and purse -- although really bizarre -- were obviously high-end, and her conversations about her trips to Europe and Africa indicated a significant amount of travel. Her age was hard to determine, but I estimated it as 29-31.

Calamity Jane and I enjoyed two leisurely drinks, the second which she let me buy for her, before she hopped off her stool and chuckled "I'm going to take a mental health walk along the trout stream and maybe even get my toes wet -- join me Paul Bunyan in case I need some protection, will you? -- but we don't need the Blue Ox to come along."

"How can I refuse an invitation like that?" I chortled.

I wasn't expecting it but Calamity Jane grabbed ahold of my arm as we walked along, leaning against me, ostensibly for support since she had four inch heels on her 5 foot 1 inch (1.5 meters), 105 pound (51 kg), body.

As we walked along she regaled me with raunchy jokes, outrageous stories, and comments about the flora and fauna we encountered despite the dearth of light except for a full moon.

When we got to a low bridge over the trout stream she took off her shoes and splashed her bare feet in the water. She cajoled me into joining her, a very atypical activity for me, but since I was enjoying her company I complied. Once we had gotten a couple of nibbles on our toes from fish we put our shoes back on (I just put my socks in my pockets) and crossed the bridge. When we got into a remote area she turned me to face her.

"You know, Paul; I've been looking for a perfect candidate for a 'One Off' for a long time. I've decided that you're it."

"What's a 'One Off,' Calamity? I've never heard of it."

"It's a one-time experience, never to be repeated, never to be talked about, that is completely outrageous and out there; something that the people involved would never do except for an experience that will broaden their horizons," she smiled. "And no subsequent contact."

"Exactly what is 'the experience?'" I pondered.

"Close your eyes and give me your left hand," she ordered while kicking off her shoes and standing on a pathway border so that she was only a few inches shorter than I am. When I hesitated she implored "I'm not going to hurt you, Paul -- do as I say."

I found this amusing so I complied. After my eyes had been closed for a few seconds she moved my hand toward her and it came into contact with something moist and soft with a hard part along the soft majority. I found the feeling pleasurable and kept my eyes closed until I heard Calamity Jane groan and slightly shiver. I opened my eyes and saw that her eyes were closed and that she was moving the fingers of my left hand under her dress. I tried to gently pull my hand away but she was having none of it and held my wrist tightly enough that I would likely have pulled her off what she was standing on and hurt her if I yanked. Her eyes briefly opened and then she said "Wait until I'm done."

I do believe that within the next 30 seconds, including because I started moving my fingers myself, that she had an orgasm. Whatever happened she fell onto me and I had to gently lift her and put her feet on the ground.

With partly glassy eyes she stared up at me. "I've wanted a One Off fuck session for the last nine or ten years, and you're the perfect person for it. Let's go to your comped room."

When I started stuttering in protest she grabbed hold of my neck and jumped up on me with the ease of a baby monkey latching onto its mother, with her thighs around my torso. When she planted a tongue filled kiss on my lips I noticed a stud in her tongue. I cannot explain it but I was instantly turned on and I believe she noticed it by my tongue's enthusiastic reply. When she broke our kiss with a devilish grin she cackled "If you like my tongue stud you'll love my clitoral glans piercing."

Exactly what transpired from that point until I closed the door to my comped room behind us I'm not entirely sure of? It was like I was in a trance and walking through fog. Once in the room, however, my mind became clear when Jane announced "To start our 'One Off' I'm going to do the quickest strip tease in history."

Jane then proceeded to hum "Ta da da da, ta dad da da" while provocatively moving her hips for a few seconds before she reached in back of her and unzipped her dress. When it fell to the floor she was naked, except for her piercings and a tattoo of a butterfly just above what I assume (never having seen, or even heard, of one before) was her clitoral glans piercing. Since she was a little woman I was surprised that her tits were quite substantial; I would guess east-west B cups with protruding nipples.

My cock got so hard that it hurt!

"Now let me undress you, big boy Paul," she snickered as she approached me. "Feel free to massage my tits while I do," she chuckled.

She took off my jacket, tie, shirt, and undershirt occasionally giving instruction about what to do with her nipples, or oohing and aahing "I love your big muscles."

Next came my belt, after which she simultaneously pulled down my pants and boxers, causing them to drop to the floor. "Yum, yum," she cackled as she massaged my testicles but with humorous concern said "I hope that hog will fit in my teeny-tiny cunt."

Jane pushed me down on the bed, pulled off my shoes, pants and boxers, and then jumped on top of me and started kissing me ferociously while rubbing her hands over my shoulders and squeezing her thighs against my hips. I think that she sensed that I was about to explode from this activity alone, so she pushed off me.

"You're getting too excited and I don't want to waste one that isn't in my pussy," she snarled. "Start eating me to get me lubricated so that I can take your hog without it splitting me in two."

She rolled onto her back with her head near the headboard and spread her legs. Her pussy did look inviting and the clitoral glans piercing intriguing. I had only done oral on Anastasia a half dozen times, and it wasn't particularly enjoyable but from Jane's enthusiasm I thought that this might be different. It was!

After Jane had her first orgasm, with a scream that would have been heard three rooms over if she didn't muffle it with a pillow, I really got into it. This was because she was swearing at me and talking dirty, but primarily because she was obviously loving it, especially given how sensitive her clitoral glans piercing was. Her enthusiasm and joy ramped up mine too, and by the time that she had her third orgasm I was enjoying this almost as much as fucking.

Despite how wiped out I thought that she'd be after three climaxes, she recovered quickly, pushed me away, and then snarled "I'm gonna ride you like a rented mule, you bastard," as she pushed me onto my back.

She briefly sucked my balls and cock and then got on top of me, holding my upright rigid cock with one hand as she slowly lowered her pussy onto it. Each millimeter of penetration caused her to emit a groan, and caused an electric charge run up my spine. I don't really know how long it took before my cock was buried to the hilt -- surprising both of us that that was even possible given the outer dimensions of her vagina -- but it sure felt fantastic.

"Grab my tits while I fuck you," she half-whispered, half-groaned, as she started bouncing up and down and squeezing and releasing her pc muscles.

I came like a howitzer, almost lifting her off my cock, but she continued to bounce and squeeze even after she screamed from my jets of seminal fluid flooding her pussy. For the first time in my life I didn't immediately wilt after discharge. It may have had something to do with her grinding her clitoral glans piercing on me and her enthusiasm. In another first, after another five minutes of her sexual gymnastics while my cock remained hard I came again, and this time she came almost simultaneously with me, screamed, and then fell onto my chest, her little nipples being squished on my torso.

It took a long time, and several aftershocks, for me to recover from the most intense experience of my life. She disengaged from my flaccid penis but still lay on top of me kissing my lips, neck and face. "That was really, really, fun, Paul Bunyan," she cackled between kisses. "I can't wait for round two."

She finally rolled off me and we engaged in very flirtatious, provocative, and enjoyable pillow talk. In mid-sentence her eyes suddenly opened wide and she smiled. "Time for me to get to work," she giggled.

With that she shinnied down to my crotch and started sucking my testicles and stroking my cock. I was surprised that with her excellent technique -- including the action of her tongue stud on my balls -- that I hardened quickly. When my cock was to her liking she lilted "My pussy is now fully lubricated. Let's do back seat driver."

I had no idea what "back seat driver" was, so I just followed her lead. She had me sit on the edge of the mattress with my feet on the floor then she nimbly moved on top of my lap and holding my hard cock upright, with her back against my front, lowered her pussy onto my cock. Again the penetration was ecstatic. When I was buried she moved front and back, in circles, and up and down while I tried to buck upwardly as I pawed her tits. After a few minutes I removed my hand from one tit and gently massaged her clitoral glans piercing. She came so hard so fast that I thought that she might be having a heart attack. Only her moans of "Oh yes, oh fucking yes," disabused me of that unpleasant thought.

After pauses, I repeated the gentle massage of her clitoral glans piercing three more times, resulting in three more powerful climaxes, the last one rendering her almost limp. That was my cue to buck up harder while pinching her nipples and soon I was jettisoning another payload into her expectant pussy, resulting in a series of little shrieks from Jane.

After we disengaged we crawled under the covers for the first time and we quickly fell asleep, her on my shoulder with one leg over my torso and one of her hands on my chest.

I don't know how long I was out, but I awoke to Jane shaking me. "Get up sleepyhead; time to check on our spouses."

She must have had an internal alarm clock because it was almost exactly four hours since I had met her at the bar. We quickly dressed and after she laid a passionate tongue-filled kiss on me just before we exited the room she said "You better be back here in fifteen-twenty minutes. I'm not done with you and I'd hate to have to track you down. Since this is a 'One Off' I need to get the most possible out of it."