Found Phone Fun Pt. 01

Walker receives, but doesn't yet open the picture proofs that chime their arrival on his cell. His next text directs Andi to a night-club that is attached to another slightly more swanky hotel. But first--still, of course, operating as an imposter--he instructs her to:

[You]

Leave remote vibrator in place

Flex your Kegels; hang on tight

Deliberately ensuring that he will be able to get there first, he adds:

[You]

Stop for gas; then go to a convenience store--not at the gas station--for gum.

Reaching her car and embarking on the next leg of what is something of a mystery tour, Andi is oddly thrilled at her lack of undergarments--her potential public nudity. Almost embarrassed, she is, nonetheless, exhilarated to find herself sort of unintentionally strutting and histrionically posing for her selfies, at each of her designated stops. Something within her that she can't explain is getting charged up--super-excited. Once parked in the hotel lot she sends word.

[Andi]

I'm here. At the hotel. Now what?

Her texts fail to relay the growing excitement she is trying hard to control.

Walker has beat her to the nightclub/lounge, which is still fairly quiet. and is seated, again, at the bar--different jacket, no hat. He watches her like a circling eagle. The next set of directions is pre-prepared, and sent all at once.

[You]

Sit at the bar; reactivate remote control appliance in your cunt.

Miranda is shocked. Kirkland has never ever used the c-word before--leastways, not in her presence. Still the alarm bells that it sets a-jangling are quickly drowned out by the tingling titillation and the erotic arousal she is otherwise experiencing, playing this very odd game.

[You]

Order a drink; don't do anything else until you finish reading this whole post. Then, if someone tries to pick you up, invite him or her to sit.

(In retrospect, Walker realizes, that he has left a gaping hole in his plan. Some other asshole could have beat him to the punch and really spoilt everything! Still, 'All's well that ends well.')

[You]

After a bit, ask him if he likes your tits. Offer to show him--flash. Let him know you're really proud of your boobs. Invite him to have a feel. Ask him to take pictures of your flash and/or his grope--with your phone.

When you've sipped your drink a bit and chatted enough, get up and dance--for at least 4 songs. Get into it: real Dirty Dancing! Make it upright foreplay! As obscene and as lewd as possible.

Take selfies! Now ask if he'd like to go someplace more private. Tell him you've got a room! (you have!) Room 609, the key will be waiting for you at the desk. Ask him if he'd like to join you, THEN ditch your inhibitions! Take him up to your room! And see what happens. lol

[Andi]

You're not serious!

[You]

Oh, yes, I am.

[Andi]

You want me to have sex with another man... with a stranger?! I can't do that!

[You]

Sure you can. Just think, if the girls had done your staggette up right, then, certainly a couple of the more adventurous among them would have contrived to get you fucked before the night was through. By the stripper, or some other lucky sod. And I wouldn't ever have known. So-o-o, we're just making up for your crappy stag. So, yes! I'm telling you to have sex with a stranger! Have fun! Your staggette sounded lame. Think of this--if you like--as your final fling.

Don't forget, as many pictures as possible.

Have fun

Andi is gobsmacked, yet, at the same time, she is becoming taken with the idea of just being naughty for once in her life. She smiles, thinking to herself, "I guess I'm already off to a pretty good start!"

Then, in one of those rare moments of clarity and instant understanding, Miranda realizes what has been evading her for all these years. Her fantasies of exhibitionism have been a cauldron of erotic energy simmering--just waiting for release.

Her long guarded, long enjoyed--ever in the strictest privacy--fantasies of exhibitionism--voluntary, forced, or coerced--and daring exposure, had chased her from adolescence to adulthood with, other than the addition of a few details, very little change. And, through the years she had always imagined how the thrill and satisfaction would feel, would taste. She'd guessed, but never actually known. Until now. And what a revelation! The tingling thrill was more intense than she could ever believe--could ever have expected. The sheer intensity of amorphous arousal made her head spin--her fundament glow and sparkle. She felt like she was going to explode--go supernova! How could she have been filled with so much potential erotic energy for so long and not have felt it? Apparently, a born exhibitionist, her true-self had been completely stifled by the social morés of her upbringing--for her whole life up to this point. Why hadn't Kirkland seen this and exploited it long before now?

Regardless of the past, now that she was aware of her own hidden energy, she let it carry her along, basking in the ecstasy of her erotic singularity! With growing anticipation and confidence--and curiosity, she begins to follow the directions on her phone.

The directions, allegedly from her fiancé begin to unfold like a self-fulfilling prophesy. Having entered the lounge in a fog of preoccupation, Andi finds herself sitting at a two-topper somewhat to the side, and not too close to the entrance. Sipping at the drink she can't even remember ordering, Miranda stares out into space, like a deer in the headlights. Waiting for the world to make its next move, she can no longer stall.

Walker approaches his obviously conflicted target, armed with a cheesy pickup line. In fact, however, Miranda now feels more than simply conflicted--more like schizophrenic. Sometimes she feels she's a dirty, promiscuous, little nymphomaniac slut; other times she feels more like a shy, straight-laced, tight-assed prude. "But maybe," she thinks, "I've been the latter for too much of my life. Time to try out the other persona, don't you think?"

Using the inserted remote vibrator on herself, Andi is barely able to pull back from the precipice of her climax, hence she is red-faced and panting when a stranger pulls out the chair and presumptuously sits down opposite her. Pretending to be concerned at her apparent upset, Walker says, "Is something wrong? What's the problem? Do you want to talk about it, or should I just leave you alone?"

"No, don't go," she whispers seductively, and slides the controller across the table. "That was close," she grins enigmatically. Walker eyes the presented electronics, but doesn't touch it.

They engage in a bit of drink and a bit of small talk, during which Walker gently teases her. Apropos nothing, Andi casually places the large black dildo on table. Acting as if this were an everyday occurrence, Walker, the stranger, suggests that she stealthily play the vibrating dildo across her nipples. With no more than a raised eyebrow in reaction, Miranda complies, sweeping the black monster back and forth, under her blouse, across her tits, like a windshield wiper. An intense climax blindsides her, as she tries to maintain the inane chat with her anonymous companion. Walker simply watches, and waits, mutely, as wave after wave of erotic energy wracks his pretty companion.

With a tremor and a sip, her voice ragged, Andi suggests, in a hoarse whisper, "Let's dance." As Walker offers her his hand, he surreptitiously pockets the controller device, while she tosses the dildo into her purse only to discover that it doesn't quite fit, but hangs out the zippered top. Leaving it sticking out, she puts the strap over her shoulder and allows herself to be towed by this man--a complete stranger, she reminds herself--onto the dance floor. Before long she is all over him. Gyrating to the beat; rubbing her hands across his body.

Randomly firing up the remote-controlled vaginal vibe, Walker grins with glee as she is, without warning, hit by sudden debilitating arousal amongst the throng of dancing couples, detonating second, third, and fourth orgasms--or are they just continuous echoes of the first?

Continuing her wild, lewd moves, Miranda finds, no matter how hard she clenches her Kegels, the pussy-vibe eventually begins to slip out, and the only remedy, it seems, is to manually shove the thing back up her twat while dancing--simply reaching beneath her skirt and pushing--no way to avoid it. Each time she gives a sort of resigned 'what-can-you-do?' smile.

Back at the table, finishing their drinks, Miranda describes the game she believes she is playing with her fiancé. Suddenly, she looks at Walker suspiciously. "Do you know Kirk?"

Walker hesitates, before lying smoothly. "I think we've met; so, maybe yes, but not well."

Following a comfortable silence, Walker observes, feeding the lie, "He must be very trusting, your fiancé."

"He usually is. Notwithstanding, this," she gestures to include them, the drinks, the dance floor, the lounge. "This surprises me." After a bit more inconsequential small talk, Walker draws her attention to the elephant in the room. "Should I get a room?"

Her eyes glitter; her cheeks flush; her chest heaves, as Andi summons all of her resolve. She replies in a tiny, coy voice, "Already got one," then she casually, takes Walker's hand, and tows him to the lobby. "Just wait at the elevators," she says as she steps over towards the registration desk to pick up the waiting key.

A draft from the front door blows across her bare cunt focusing her like a splash of cold water, reminding her of the fact that she is going commando. Which is, she thinks, using Kirk's own rather surprising words, more titillating than embarrassing. She is grinning and humming, by the time she reaches the front desk. But she deliberately chooses not to think too much about the strange games she's been playing with Kirkland. Instead, she is trying to quell her burgeoning anticipation and growing excitement.

She has only ever had sex with her fiancé. Seems so odd, as he is usually so conservative, yet here he is not just tolerating it but actually condoning the idea of a pre-marital fling! Maybe he doesn't want her to have regrets. Though that degree of sensitivity hardly seems like Kirkland. "Still," she shrugs, "what do they say about gift horses?"

Entering the elevator, Andi takes Walker's hand, again, wanting the security of a human touch. "I've never done this before," she whispers, as she presses the six. She is so very sweet, Walker almost has a change of heart. Almost, but not quite.

Once in the room they warily eye one another, to see who is going to make the first move. For all his worldliness, Walker is surprisingly unsure; though, finally, after a brief contemplation, with an abrupt chortle, he removes his jacket and kicks off his shoes.

While Andi is obviously excited and eager; she is still a little unsure of herself, and the whole situation. She pauses, watching the stranger get the ball rolling, as it were, by beginning to get undressed--his gaze fixed upon her. "It's now or never," she thinks, reminding herself that this may very well be her very last chance to sexually misbehave with impunity. And that thought spurs her into action.

They undress together. Of course, besides her shoes, which she kicks off virtually reflexively, she is only wearing two articles of clothing. So, disrobing is quick and easy.

Once naked, Andi goes to the window, next to the king bed. Walker expects her to close the blackout curtains, but instead she opens the sheers, instinctively, thrilling to her latent exhibitionism. She is delighted at her newly discovered desire to show off. The exhibitionism is charming, like a polish on the sex, just adding a little extra sparkle, knowing that someone may be watching. Feeling uncharacteristically naughty, she presses her tits against the window before turning and climbing onto the bed. The sun shining in, illuminates the bed and its occupants--like players on a stage--to anyone who might be observing from the office block across the street. Soon, however, any consideration of who might or might not be watching is overshadowed by the present--Miranda's continued erotic adventures.

Just before raising his undershirt over his head, Walker is delighted to glimpse what is obviously a naturally fabulous body. Scrambling to get fully naked, he stops, getting tangled in his undershirt, and stares--lending credence to the truism, 'More haste; less speed.' She is a true blonde--with a perfect figure. Almost speechless, Walker mutters, "Omigod! You're beautiful!"

"Oh," Andi protests. "You flatter me."

"Flattery is easy when it isn't even exaggeration," Walker hisses. "You should be in the movies. You should be a movie star!"

"Ahhh. Flattery will get you everywhere," Andi purrs, enjoying his complimentary patter without worrying about how sincere it may or may not be. She smiles appreciatively, visibly relaxing, and watching intently as Walker fumbles to undo his belt.

Impatience eventually overruling propriety, Andi zeroes in on this unfamiliar companion's crotch, unbuttoning the waist of his jeans, lowering his fly, and folding down his briefs. The cock she reveals, fold by fold, is impressive, to say the least--not that she has amassed a huge basis of comparison--it's certainly, and substantially, bigger than Kirk's. Her breathy, "Wow!" is compliment enough for Walker.

Raising her eyes to meet his, Miranda grasps Walker's root like it's a gear shift. They stay motionless for a bit--he watching her studying his stiffening manhood; his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. After a prolonged, meaningful silence, she releases her hold on his turgid tool only reluctantly, as, slipping his hands under her arms, he lifts her to standing.

Finally letting go, her nipples now brushing his chest and stimulating them both, she throws her arms around his neck, planting her lips hard against his. Their tangling tongues twist and dance. Walker pulls her chest tight to his, squashing her boobs and poking her hard little nips into his firm pecs. They become, for a spell, hungrily consumed with a protracted bout of mutual kissing that would be better described as sucking face!

Thrilling to the intensity of the exchange, Andi marvels at the sudden realization: "I don't even know this guy's name!" Still, it feels so natural. Keeping up the pressure--lips to lips, tongues still fencing--her hands migrate to his nipples, and begin to twiddle, while his hands drop to her boobs for a serious grope--squeeze, twist, and pinch; however, impatient to move on, Walker eventually breaks up the game of tonsil-hockey, and slowly slides his face down to suck on Andi's nipples, dropping the one hand to cup her nearly bald pussy.

Running a fingertip along her slick furrow, before dipping between her puffy labia, Walker discovers the temporarily overlooked remote vibrator. He swiftly sweeps it out of her moist womanhood, further arousing her in the process. Tossing it to the side, he pushes his eager digits into the warm, wet confines of her throbbing cunt.

Simultaneous with his one-handed finger-fucking, Walker twiddles one nipple with his other hand. Sealing a liplock onto the free nipple--flicking and licking it with his tongue--he sets up a complicated rhythm of stimulation. Miranda sparkles in her continued arousal. As the digital prodding becomes deeper and more insistent, Walker's thumb smoothly finds Andi's clit--pressing and squeezing and swirling--her response is a supercharged excitement.

Andi is amazed at, among other things, the level of arousal that, up till now she hadn't known she was capable of; she is surprised that the blended flavours of stimulation can produce--even in her--such a plethora of almost unbearable pleasure, the like of which she has never before known. Miranda is also astounded at her own immodesty, and the thrill that that generates. Clutching this virtually perfect stranger's face tight against her right breast, she suddenly feels her body begin to vibrate in response to his persistent manipulations. The amalgam of stimuli--physical, intellectual, and emotional--is winding her up; her buzzing vibration being rent, from time to time, by random spasms and jolts and quakes.

Andi has never felt so alive--never before this afternoon. Even given the novel charge of real, actual exhibitionism, in the flesh; or her multiple orgasms brought on by the remote-control vibrator. She feels like she is about to explode--as though she is being over-inflated with some sort of erotic energy, and that she is nearing crisis. The level of ecstasy far exceeds anything she has ever before experienced--by powers of ten--it is almost more than she can bear. Yet the promised monster climax remains elusive--for the time being, at least.

Walker, however, smiles knowingly. "Patience, my dear," he thinks. "Have no fear. Everything is under control." Or so it would seem; for, from his position at her breast, he has been monitoring and assessing her arousal.

When Walker slides lower still, he slips his oral caresses casually down Andi's tummy, brushing his lips over the small inverted triangular pubic patch, then chasing his fingers back up her chest, onto her momentarily abandoned nipple, away from her dampened pussy. His fingers, staying, playing, for the moment, at her swollen buds, he drops his chin, so that, his tongue tip draws lightly along her furrow, just enough to gather a taste of her nectar.

At the feel of his lapping tongue 'down there,' Miranda protests loudly, heaving her hips in a futile effort to dislodge Walker's lingual probings. Repeating what she had always been led to believe, Andi whimpers that oral sex is filthy and disgusting; however, running his pointed tongue up and down between her swollen labia, farther and farther, getting deeper and deeper, Walker very quickly convinces Miranda of the error in her long-held beliefs. The impending mammoth orgasm, that has been waiting in Andi, just out of reach, explodes at first touch of Walker's tongue to her clitoris, fully engulfing her body in waves of ecstasy--rumbling on and on, and releasing all the sexual tension she has been holding within--for years.

Miranda's climax is the strongest, most intense orgasm she has ever experienced! While she is shuddering and quaking, and glittering through virtually her whole being, a tiny, objective corner of her mind tries to understand what is happening--comprehend this very odd phenomenon: the manner of arousal is mainly oral, the method cunnilingus--who would've thought? She is astounded that she even knows the word. Yet, here we are. There is no question: it is wondrously naughty--marvelously dirty! How can something so perverse feel so intensely delightful? "Better," she advises herself, "not to ask too many questions; or give it too much thought; I should just accept it, enjoy it--and bask in it while I can. Take it for what it is: a wonderful pre-marital gift from my stuffy old fiancé." It seems Kirkland, her dearly beloved still has a few tricks up his sleeve. Really, she is astonished that he is almost daring her not to participate in his truly fantastic, erotic escapade. In fact, she feels that more than simply permissive, he is being provocative. And, honestly, she didn't think he had it in him!

Miranda's orgasm, on the tongue of a man whose name she still does not know, turns out to be the first in a series; and the moment she climaxes her pussy juice begins flowing like a brook, sweet and tangy. Walker considers himself duty-bound to slurp it all up--a task he takes on with great gusto. Pressing deep between her puffy lips, drawing back then forward to properly split her labia, opening her up like a blossom, all glistening and pink, Walker, the imposter, relishes the nectar overflowing her slit. Lapping eagerly at the abundance, he can't help but swirl and suck her strainingly erect clitoris, enflaming further the intensity of her arousal.