Evan Loves Curves

It rang up to $481.19. I put it on my new black Amex, which actually made the woman try to grin. It looked painful. She took my room number and gave me a receipt with a cleaning tag attached. I went back through the lobby to the cafe, got a tray for the free continental breakfast, made two waffles, got two sides of bacon and two sides of home fries, a cup of strawberry yogurt and the little things of salt and pepper and ketchup, then up the elevator.

Burley was still in bed when I came into the room. I saw that her phone was on her nightstand, so I knew she had gotten up at some point. The room was warm, the curtains glowed from the daylight they restrained. I stripped and got into bed, laid on my back, laced my fingers behind my head, stared at the ceiling, thought about life.

It was probably less than a minute before she stirred. She rolled onto her back, her shoulder against mine, then her long silky leg against mine. She stretched and let out a sexy little sort of purr.

"Where'd you go?" she whispered, sniffling.

"I brought breakfast and stuff."

"I know what I want for breakfast," she said, rolling over more, letting her huge soft breasts spill across my arm and chest, drawing her thigh over mine.

"Me too," I said, and pulled her fully on top of me. Her hair was a shroud around us as we kissed. She had brushed her teeth, I could tell. Her body felt amazing. The way her tits felt like big puddles of soft joy on my chest, her hips fit perfectly in my hands, her tummy against mine, her legs. We both made noises as these sensations rekindled the embers that had never fully died down from last night. Or that morning. Or whenever.

"How did you sleep?" I asked her.

Kiss kiss. "Good. Better than expected. How about you?"

"I slept great. Oooh." She had reached between us, and although my cock was a bit more than half hard already, when her fingers grasped my shaft down at the base and gave a firm, slow stroke, I got all the way hard and then some right then. She sat up a little and I took the opportunity to grab both tits and shove one in my mouth. The way she moaned made me swirl my tongue around her nipple, and the way it got stiff, long and thick in my mouth made my cock drip.

"I almost didn't want to sleep at all," she said between sighs as I licked and suckled at them.

"Me neither," I murmured.

"Yeah, I thought I was going to have to tie you down to get any sleep, but once you closed your eyes, it was lights out," she said, stroking my hair as I made like a baby. She was turned to the side, her hand still working.

"Hope I didn't snore," I blurted shyly, facepalm!

She chuckled, "I hope I didn't either!" and I laughed.

"I almost woke you up to fuck this morning."

"I wish you would have. I don't want to leave."

"We have the room a bit longer."

"I have to get back at some point."

"It's not some point yet, right?"

"Yeah, I'm awake now," she said, ducking her head under the covers.

I was legit boning Burley up her ass again, doggy style, bent over the table looking out the windows on the bright lake about an hour later when there came a knock on the door.

"Laundry service!" came the muffled ID. Someone was really shouting, and it was still hard to hear, which was a good endorsement of the sound insulation.

"Laundry service?" Burley wondered, looking back at me with her dark brows knitted, clearly perturbed at the interuption and confused.

I held onto the chocolate condom to hold it on as I pulled out-motherfucker was on there tight, but her ass was even tighter!-then grabbed a robe, whipped it on and bloused it out in front over my hardon as i unlocked the door and opened it a crack. It was a different dumpy woman from the room service last night. She had a pink Saks bag. I gave her $5 and shut the door in her face.

"What's that?" Burley wondered, still head down ass up, god bless her.

"I went out before breakfast this morning, thought since, you know, you didn't get to pack for this trip, maybe you needed an outfit for today."

"An outfit? Saks? Givenchy?" the words came out like an alarm rising to a shriek as she pulled out the panties, then the hoody, T and yogas, then the bra. "How did you know my sizes?"

"I guessed. And peeked in your bra this morning."

"Well, it's almost my size."

"Yeah, they didn't have FF."

"I'm usually a G, depends on the bra." My nuts tightened. "But, this is stretchy, I bet I can squeeze the girls into this one okay."

"Hope you like them, I didn't know what to pick. It's been a long time since I've shopped for a woman-"

She smiled and crawled over to the edge of the bed. "I love them, you have such good taste, you are so good to me. So sweet. Let me thank you," she said as she pulled the condom off and replaced it with her lips.

*

A little while later, we were laying there in bed with the sheet over us. Burley was half on top of me, snuggled up close, and I had my hand on the small of her back with my middle finger resting between her butt cheeks. Her large soft breasts pressed into me.

"I just took the rest of the day off, said I was too sick," she giggled, putting her phone down.

"Didn't they know you were going to the show last night?"

"Yeah," she giggled again, louder. "It's okay, it shouldn't be a busy day. They are cool guys, they understand. I don't call off much."

"That's cool."

"Plus if they wanna ding me on my review for using too many sick days, you were worth it."

"You were something else," I told her, kissing her forehead.

"You were a tiger."

"You just wanted it so much."

"And you kept giving it to me. Mmm."

My wife and I had never really talked about sex that much afterwards, just wow you are great, I love you, now go order a pizza and mow the lawn. I'd read in health magazines and stuff that it was good to talk about it though, and Burley seemed game. She always did. I looked out at the deep blue of the lake.

"Did you have a favorite, like, moment?" I asked after a while.

"Hmm...I'd have to think about it. I mean, all of it, but hmm. How about you?"

"When you were dancing. Like, at the concert, and then when you were putting on a show for me back here."

"Oh, you liked that?" she ran her thigh over mine.

"Yeah, and when you got your tit out in the elevator, that was so hot. Some of the things you were doing when you were sucking my dick, just..."

"I loved when you were licking me out. I could tell, right then and there, oh, this is gonna be a good time."

"I loved licking you out."

"Yeah, and you started licking my ass, mmmm."

"I loved licking your ass," I mumbled sweetly, rubbing her bare ass as I said it.

"I loved when you were licking it and I was just like, oh yeah, fuck me there," she giggled again.

"One thing though."

"Uh huh, yeah?" Her brown eyes searched mine.

"When I first started licking you out, you tasted like bubblegum. What was that?"

She looked away. "It's like, these wipes, I use them when I'm in the ladies room like at a club or whatever."

"Ah," makes sense, I thought, "mystery solved."

She pressed her jaw into my chest. "What else?"

I acted like I had to think about it for a while, even though I didn't. "Honestly, when you were sucking your tits, and when I got to fuck them, and you had the tip of my dick in your mouth and the rest was between your tits, that was like the highlight of my life so far."

She beamed. I had never seen her smile like this before. It's the first time I noticed that her eyes were not very symetrical at all, but who the fuck cares? She looked adorable.

"I liked that too," she said, and it made me smile, even though another part of my brain reminded me that even though that was a first for me, it was far from a first for her.

"When do we gotta go?" she asked at length.

"Soon, but not yet." She looked up at me again, gave me some sad eyes. I stroked her hair. "Breakfast is probably cold though. And the yogurt is probably warm. You wanna do brunch?"

She got back up and grinned. "I wanna try on my new outfit!"

We showered together, but it was more about actually getting clean and having fun than getting sexy again, then I let her have the bathroom as I went out to get dressed-the Nike shirt again, but a pair of nice shorts and new blue Nikes. I hit the ECig, gathered my shit, ate some cold bacon. When I heard the bathroom door open, I looked up, expectant.

Burley looked so fucking sexy, I wanted to fuck her again then and there. And I wanted to tell her that I wanted to fuck her, and that I wanted to rip a hole in the crotch of her brand new $219 yoga pants so I could fuck her with them on. But I just said, "Fuck, Samantha."

She giggled. "You like?" She did some little turns, this way and that, posing, hand on hip.

The bra didn't fit, and the babydoll T was snug because I'd stuck with the small-go me!-and she had cleavage almost up to her collarbones. The hoody helped because she had it zipped up about as far as it would go, which was about two inches under her bustline. Like, they might not fit. Her belly showed, and it made my knees weak. The yogas did fit her-like a second skin. The way the stripes expanded and contracted around her curves only accentuated how bubbly her ass cheeks were. Her thighs and legs looked great, and she was wearing the heels from last night. Did they go? Yes, she made them work. Now, I guess I'd been with her long enough, seemed to have gotten my fill, and so the flaws-the strength of her face, the somewhat shrewdness of her eyes, the way her hips were not very wide or curvy despite all the meat hanging off of her ass-stood out more to me now, but even then, the positive side of the ledger was, with apologies to Austin Powers...stacked?

"You look amazing."

"Yeah? Thanks!"

"I'm sorry about not getting any shoes, I should've gotten you some shoes-"

"It's okay, I wasn't expecting any of this, let alone shoes! I mean, I was just gonna...Thanks so much!"

"I'm thanking myself too," I said, and she laughed. "Are you wearing the thong?"

"Yep. See?" She pulled the thin straps up on her hips and turned around, showing the whale tail diving into the low rise waist of the yogas.

"You like any particular view? Front? Back? Side?" She did all three poses for me, bending over as appropriate.

"Yes," is all I said, laughing.

We gathered our things, then made out some and I even let her take selfies of us posed around the room with the view out the windows behind us, faces and all. We checked out by leaving the keycards in the room and closing the door behind us. A couple minutes later, the white 911 Turbo rumbled up in front of us. The valet opened the door for her and I saw him sneak several peeks. I shuffled the bills in my hand, gave him a fiver.

"Too bad you just had Italian last night, I'd take you to Luigi's in Rochester," I said as I steered onto Erie and dropped the shifter into 2nd.

"Oh, baby. I can eat Italian every day. Is it good?"

"You've never been there?" She shook her head. "It's like, kinda family style, I mean it's not fancy or anything, but it's not Chef Boyardee. There's usually like cops and teachers and doctors and lawyers all there, you know, and it's open late so you get college students and artists. The cheese salad, though, oh my god."

"Cheese salad?" She made a face like how could that sound good? Then smiled and said, "That does sound good! Let's go."

It was a beautiful day in northern Upstate New York, hot but not too humid somehow. We had the A/C blasting and I let her blast her favorite radio stations. Mostly Top 40 and hip hop, but she did tune in two rock stations I grew up with that were still around. The Porsche had a decent stereo, but we were talking too.

"You like your outfit?" I asked at one point when there was a lull in the conversation. Heart's "Magic Hands" was playing. She shimmied her shoulders to the beat and her breasts wobbled. "I love it," she said, running her hands over herself. I reached over the 911's narrow console and ran my hand down her thigh. She took my hand and made it go up. "And I can tell you love it too."

"I do. I mean, I picked it, so I knew I would like it."

"I can see you watching my boobs jiggle every time we hit a bump."

"I swear I'm not trying to hit the bumps."

She laughed and cupped her majorly impressive bosom. "They seriously barely fit."

"I like that too," I said, "just sorry if it's uncomfortable."

"It's not. And you're not, so don't lie."

I laughed at her.

"Anyway, the bra and top are stretchy and soft, just, they are like, busting out."

She had my hand and was making me feel her up. When I looked over, she took my hand and stuck it down her top. We both moaned. She was right, they were pretty snugly bundled up in there.

"I'm about to bust my zipper out," I heard myself say. She immediately reached over and felt. My cock was more than half hard down my shorts. I watched the road. Traffic was moderate. Burley looked around, like a drug dealer scanning for cops before selling a quick score..

"Can I suck it?" she said. I glanced over and squeezed her tit as I nodded.

"Don't crash," she cooed as she unbuckled her seatbelt and dove for my zipper. Once she got my cock out, she slinked her knees down into the passenger footwell, leaned over the console while avoiding the shifter, and started licking all around the head of my cock. Moans filled the car. She blew me like she couldn't get enough, and I missed the exit, didn't tell her, just kept going as her head bobbed slowly in my lap and I tried not to ruin my sports car or us. I got off at the next exit and was quickly lost, having to work the clutch and shifter. She laughed heartily with my cock in her mouth. I could feel the slobber dripping to my balls.

"Almost there?" she asked, then quickly stuffed her mouth full of my meat again.

"I...think so?" was my response, which brought another muffled chuckle. But her hand started to work. She used her left, her thumb on the main vein beneath. She took my hand away from the shifter and guided it to her breast, then started jacking to finish me off.

"Oh Samantha, oh fuck baby, I am gonna fucking fill your mouth."

"Mm hmmm," she groaned to cheer me on.

We were in third gear and the car leapt forward from me stabbing the gas when my nuts exploded in her mouth. She made a startled noise as she was rocked into the seat, but she kept her mouth clamped around my knob and her hand jerked like a seasoned pro, just enough pressure to feel amazing without being too much to let the jizz out. Somehow, mid-orgasm, I got the clutch in and shifted to neutral, then braced my feet against the floorboards, clenched my ass and gave her one last big spurt to get it all out. She gulped as we rolled to a stop sign.

"Mmmm," was coming from her mouth, then a few licks to clean up and she sat back in her seat, looked around, wiping her chin as I pulled up the waistband of my underwear. "Where are we?"

"In Rochester," I said, a little dubiously, leaving my fly open as I watched a van pull up in my mirrors. I signalled right and suddenly, everything looked familiar. And oh, there is the sign. "Here we are."

"Thanks for the appetizer," she said. I looked over and stroked her hair back as we motored through the parking lot. She was adjusting her clothes, then she pulled down the sunvisor and reached for her purse.

I didn't know what to say, I was glowing, almost shocked with euphoria. "Thank you," I said finally, as we looked for a parking spot, "This is like, the best morning after of my life."

She giggled and tapped my arm like, oh, you. Then she gave me a sort of happy little hug.

"Oh, here's one." It was out there on the end. I parked right on the one line.

"Give me a second," she said, popping in an Altoid. She had her lipstick out.

"Take your time, Samantha," I said, carefully tucking my still chubby into my shorts before zipping up. It was warm out when I opened the door.

She got out and it was so hot to watch her straighten her outfit. She used the reflection in the Porsche and I stopped her, took my phone out. She posed, turning to accentuate the curves front and rear, resting her palm on the white Turbo's low hood. Click.

"Damn."

"Send me that one," she said, kissing my cheek as she took my hand. Luigi's was busy, and everyone was staring. They had probably heard us rumble in. Just like I'd said, there were cops, people in suits, hospital scrubs, moms with kids, black guys looking both stylish and shady, white guys looking both dapper and trashy. They all looked at Burley like the Saturday prime rib special was being shown around. We only had to wait a couple of minutes. The person who seated us in one of the booths up front (to the consternation of the family of five in front of us) was a middle-aged white dude with an apron on over a shirt and tie. The manager. He looked at Burley's mellons at least five times in two seconds. I almost felt bad for whoever washed his socks or cleaned his shower walls.

The last time I'd been to Luigi's was with Jimmy's mom when he crashed a motorcycle and got airlifted to Rochester General and I came up to visit once he was awake. I remember she declined the cheese salad, which is like going to the county fair and ordering steamed broccoli instead of elephant ears and deep fried turkey wings. Pretty much all of the times before that were with my ex, before she even became my wife, before I'd met Burley or anything. The place hadn't changed a bit except maybe the songs on the jukebox, and it had been something like 10 or 15 years. I didn't want to do the math. I looked across at Burley as she dug into the mountain of freshly shredded provolone atop perfectly oiled and chopped iceberg lettuce, with bits of carrot, tomato and black olive. How do such simple ingredients taste so amazing? She caught me looking down her top with her mouth full, chewing, and she looked away while tugging her tank a little lower.

But I did some other math. The concert tickets, the 8-ball, the gas to drive the thirsty Porsche across the state, the bar last night, the bar reservation, dinner for me, dinner for her, the valets, drinks at the show, room service at midnight, the shopping spree this morning, the laundry fee added to the late checkout fee added to the room bill. I'm not going to tell you what it was, because I suck at math. But it was a lot. Luckily, the breakfast we wasted that morning had come with the room, and Luigi's was pretty cheap, but still. Is this what it would take to keep a girl like Burley? Would I want to try to keep a girl like Burley? Can anyone in their right mind keep a girl like Burley?

Just looking at her makes you think of new positions you've never tried. When she gets naked, it's like when you find your new favorite porn star, with a body that isn't perhaps the hottest in the world, but one that conforms to most of your own little weird kinks and desires. So much so that she could almost just lay there like a sack of potatoes and you could barely keep from dumping a nutload, just because all of the flashing signs around the hearts floating out of her ass in your mind are reading "PERFECT!" even if she isn't. Well, who is? She's close. In body, if not in spirit. But what spirit.

I was listening to her talk about upcoming concerts she hoped to get good seats for, was half wondering if it was a hint as I chased the last of my meatball around the bowl, but then she said, "You know, thanks for everything, Evan. Dinner last night, the show, the hotel, fucking my brains out, this fucking trick ass outfit, just..." she shook her head and her hair fluttered, "everything..."

"You are welcome, Samantha. It was all my pleasure."

She grinned. "Ready to go?"

There wasn't enough time left for more roadhead as we made our south from Rochester to where we were from. She directed me off the highway and we were listening to Def Leppard on the classic rock station when she said, "So, I'm wondering when I might hear from you again?"