Rimming the Cup

When Byron first alluded to the size of his endowment, Angel had been around the block enough to assume he was kidding, or at least exaggerating. Even when he nudged up against her several times, she could feel the fleshy, throbbing log against her side, but didn't have a worry whatsoever it was something she couldn't manage. There were a couple of mitigating factors. Worried that it may have been too close to her time of the month, Angel was hesitant to allow the stranger to plant his stake inside her womb considering his insistence not to wear a condom. Given her unflinching desire to add Byron's notch to her bedpost, or bathroom stall as the case may be however, Angel suggested he take her from behind - a suggestion that elicited a spate of headshaking laughter from Byron and his friends.

Having developed a taste for anal sex many years earlier, there hadn't been too many guys over the years she couldn't accommodate, and frankly give just as good as she got as they jammed their cock up her ass. Having felt Byron's girth a few times through his trousers, Angel's drunken confidence was at an all time high that she could take him.

"If you say so," Byron eventually agreed before leading her to the restroom with a clear sense of anticipation, and just a dash of trepidation.

Sadly for Byron, his worst fears were realized. Angel had talked a good game, and maybe under different circumstances she may have been able to back up her bravado. By the time Byron had pushed her dress up and pressed the head of his beast into the rim of her puckered pink rectum, it was clear this wouldn't end well. Angel wasn't dealing with the drunk frat boys back at college, or some of the rinky-dink sugar daddies she occasionally graced with her presence. The whimpering, cat-like cry she gave when Byron shoved his ample spear forward showed clearly this was the first time she'd ever put her body through anything so daunting.

While Angel had made a few exploratory advances back at the bar to get an idea of what she was dealing with, while she had an accurate estimate of Byron's length, she'd sorely underestimated his uncommon circumference.

Taking more joy than he really should in the way the young girl teetered on her expensive black pumps as he bent her over the toilet, Byron's skin crawled from the sound of her manicured nails raking down the tiles to each side of her bent and trembling head. Holding his free hand on the back of Angel's neck, he could feel every nerve in her athletic body quivering as he burrowed his manhood forward.

"I can do this damnit...just go slow...please don't split me down the middle," Angel's voice rattled through the ladies room as she tediously tried bucking her rear end backwards against Byron's unforgiving slab.

Having locked the door to the men's room when they'd entered, Byron knew he was safe from being interrupted on his end. He'd honestly given no thought to anyone on the other side of the wall hearing what was going one between him and Angel, but frankly, given his exhibitionistic sense of drama, knowing a woman was over there hanging on his every move would have likely pushed Byron to finish the what he'd started.

Instead, Byron decided to just let things go when Angel's will gave out.

"Oh God...I'm so sorry...I want to but I can't," the young girl muttered in defeat against the tear-soaked swath of wall, falling forward just enough that Byron's barely embedded shaft plopped free from her burning behind.

Patting her left hand across her chest as she worked her skirt back down with her right, Angel spent a few moments in vain trying to gather herself before turning to face the man standing behind her.

"...I'm sorry," she sobbed once again when she did, using her wrist to dab at running nose as she melted under the man's stoic, "I told you so" glare.

His dick continuing to jut like a jagged shank between them, Angel allowed her gaze to settle on it, but it seemed to have the same mockingly diabolical stare as the man it was attached to.

"Couldn't handle it, could you?" she swore she heard the thing say to her.

Byron fully intended to make Angel get down on her knees and finish the task she'd aborted, but the sudden knock at the locked door killed whatever mood was left.

"Fuck," Byron growled, rolling his eyes as he stared down at the beautiful but broken girl standing before him.

Stuffing the still rigid cylinder of his manhood back inside his pants, Byron motioned for Angel to head out of the stall first. Even if he hadn't gotten exactly what he wanted out of the tryst, he was still intent on every eye that watched her exit the bathroom thinking he had. Seeing the way the girl's knees knocked as she unlocked the door and slipped, head bowed, past the man waiting to get in, Byron knew his purpose was served.

Having ducked out the ladies room a minute or so before Byron and Angel emerged, Judy had just taken her seat across from her husband when the couple from the men's room stepped back out into the bar. Sure enough, several faces turned in the direction of the pretty blonde in heels wobbling out the door, followed closely by a tanned and handsome man exiting the door confidently behind her.

Judy knew most everyone watching would quickly be able to add two and two, even though she was the only one who truly knew what went on inside that bathroom. She even had to fight the motherly urge to console Angel Maybin as she slipped past the Melvin's table on her way out the restaurant.

"Honey...let's get the check and head back to the hotel," Judy whispered seductively, across the table, to her husband.

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It had been a long, long time since Judy Melvin found herself that aroused. It had been three full weeks since she'd had sex with her husband, nearly a week and a half since she'd taken the liberty to blow off some steam and pleasure herself. Combine that natural build-up of energy with what she'd heard unfold during her trip to the bathroom, and Judy was frothing at the bit to get back to the hotel for any semblance of relief.

Sadly, after a long day of drinking, two rounds of golf and a five course dinner, Wesley Melvin wasn't feeling quite the same urgency. Judy had gotten her husband undressed and into bed, even performed fellatio on him in hopes he'd do something to return the favor, but it wasn't to be.

Wesley had an 8am tee-time at one of the most popular courses at the resort the following morning, and once he came from his wife's overly enthusiastic oral efforts, he simply rolled over and checked out, leaving Judy with several more layers of pent-up frustration and now a salty, metallic aftertaste on her palate for her troubles.

There was a brief spat, considerably one sided since Wesley had all but dozed off, leaving Judy with nothing but time, and a bushel full of raging hormones, on her hands.

"Could go in the bathroom and take the edge off," she groused, knowing that option would have been better served if she'd just dithered herself back at the restaurant restroom while the proverbial iron was white hot.

"I need a cigarette," she ran her hands through her hair and groaned, weaving across the room to mix herself another drink at the mini bar.

Judy Melvin hadn't smoked in four years. Quitting after several failed attempts had been one of her proudest accomplishments, but now the serpent of want had eagerly slithered into every facet of her being.

"There's a 24 hour convenience store down at the end of the block. I need some fresh air anyway," she swirled the ice around her glass before throwing it back.

Still clothed in the little black dress she wore to dinner, Judy touched up her hair, grabbed her purse and disappeared out into the night.

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Byron Hodges wasn't use to being let down in such a way. Always having a knack to belly up to beautiful women, Angel Maybin was a looker, even by his high standards. To have a girl that attractive, and seemingly so polished, agree to let him have his way with her in a men's room stall would have the most decadent capstone to an evening he could ever remember. Sadly, it was too good to be true.

Walking out of the bathroom after their soiree went south, Byron still strutted back up to the bar to rejoin his friends as if he had sealed the deal. Seeing several of the eyes in the room watch Angel scurry away after leading him out from the men's room, Byron gave them all a wry smile when they turned their gaze back to him. Everyone who bothered to look would have certainly thought the tanned man from Tempe had just hit a grand slam, that is other than a nondescript woman sitting with her husband at a table several feet away. She was the only one who knew he'd been thrown out at home plate.

Even though Byron would never know that woman's name. As fate would have it however, he happened to stumble into her an hour or so after the debacle in the bathroom. Having ducked out of that bar with his buddies less than a minute earlier, Byron set his sights on another place down the block in hopes of a fresh pool of potential pussy. Little did he know he'd meet it on the sidewalk before he even got there.

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"Hopefully I can get down this street to the store without getting accosted," Judy laughed nervously once she was on the street, wishing she'd grabbed a jacket to throw on over her outfit as the evening chill gradually set in.

"You're in Myrtle Beach, girl, not back home in Cincinnati," she tried to reassure herself, but given the inebriated state of many of the men she was passing on the sidewalk, she almost felt like she'd been swept up in a middle aged version of Spring Break.

Judy would have been relieved to know the guys were casting their sophomoric attention in the direction of a hot little Filipino number that was walking a few paces in front of them. Only a step or two away from passing them and putting those crude men in her rear view forever, Judy's woozy gait, in the end, was her downfall.

"UUUHHHH," the guy on the far left end of the pack grunted when Judy crashed into his side.

"OH GOD...I'm so sorry," the older woman stammered, communicating immediately that it was her fault.

"Oh...No problem...you alright?" Damon Reddick asked, the youngest of the group of guys Byron Hodges had come east to visit.

"Yeah...thanks...again...I'm sorry," Judy re-affirmed before trying to stagger sheepishly away.

Despite Judy Melvin's stately elegance, tight package for her age and clearly inebriated state, Damon had no interest in pursuing the chance encounter. Favoring much younger fare, Damon politely waved Judy past as if she was a nun.

Byron, on the other hand, looked at the woman in the black cocktail dress with a slightly more tilted eye.

"You were the lady who ducked into the ladies room at the bar before I could get that blonde in," Byron's brown eyes sparkled with silent insinuation.

"Yes...Yes I was," Judy's reluctant gaze gave its equally silent admission.

"So...you heard everything that went on, didn't you?" Byron arched his eyebrow accusingly.

"Sadly...yes," Judy nodded her chin ever so slightly to convey her answer.

"You guys...you go on ahead and get us a table up the street...I'll catch up in a minute," Byron shooed away his buddies as he tried to take stock in the glassy-eyed woman wobbling on her high heels in front of him.

The cigarettes she'd come all the way out for may as well have been on the far side of the Sahara. Totally unaware of the stare Byron's two friends were giving over their shoulders as they slowly edged towards the bar down the street, Judy clutched her purse tightly over her left shoulder and tried not to wither under the man's scalding gaze.

"You out here alone?" Byron asked, sensing the answer but wanting to hear her say it.

Fidgeting noticeably, Judy finally mumbled her she was.

"Wanna go inside for a drink?" Byron nearly asked, but the primal, age-old gleam in the older woman's eyes told him no more breaking of the ice would be needed.

"My hotel's a block over," he said with cool, succinct calm.

"Forget the hotel," a vivacious voice Judy didn't even recognize echoed in her head. "If you want me to, I'll drop down to my knees and suck you off right here on the sidewalk.

Swallowing hard as she tried to mute that inner voice of bestial want, Judy simply told the stranger ,"I've got a better idea."

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One has to wonder when Robert Trent Jones designed a golf course, if he envisioned a trail of discarded clothing leading to one of his picturesque greens. That was the exact scene at a few minutes before midnight leading to the Par 3 16th hole on one of his signature courses at Myrtle Beach.

A mere eight hours before Wesley Melvin was to tee off on the very same course, his wife of nearly 30 years found herself being led through the evergreen woodline, towards the 16th green by a man that was decidedly not her husband.

Kicking off her dew soaked heels once she was safely out of the woods, Judy shivered feeling the cool, velvety smoothness of the grass beneath her bare feet as the nameless man's edged her forward.

Byron Hodges had taken part in his fair share of outrageous hook-ups, but even by his extreme standards, Judy Melvin's suggestion had been quite novel.

"Right about here?" he whispered into the married woman's ear before tasting the salty traces of her need as he nibbled at the nape of her neck.

"...Uhhhh...Yep..." Judy trembled, nearly tripping on the flagstick marking the exact spot she'd envisioned.

"I think we can tap in from here," Byron's warm breath rattled through Judy's brain as he lowered her down to her knees.

There had been several forks Judy could have chosen to keep from flinging herself into that adulterous chasm. Perhaps it was the wine clouding her judgment, or the accumulation of her long deprived want. Perhaps it was simply Byron's overwhelming, larger than life presence crippling her ability to put the brakes on. One minute she'd been standing on a crowded sidewalk, her gaze locked with a man she didn't even know. The next, she was on her knees at the man's feet beneath the flawless stars of a crisp southern sky.

Judy knew the man could have walked into that bar with his friends and had his pick of pretty much any woman inside, just as he had with the blonde back at the restaurant earlier that evening. Yet, there he was, somehow alone with her. For the first time since Judy could remember, she wasn't a wife or mother, friend or neighbor. She was simply the lone object of a man's crude desire, and the out of body experience that realization created was nothing short of gloriously inhibiting.

Whatever that girl in the bathroom had started, Judy's searing and sole focus was to finish it. The daunting scope of that intended endeavor hit home, literally, when Byron unzipped his fly and pulled the club-like girth free, then smacked the rigid girth across Judy's left cheek.

The same penis she'd stolen a peek at a few days ago in the woods, the very same one she was picturing while it was pillaging a girl half her age on the other side of a bathroom wall just hours earlier, was now resting like a throbbing kielbasa on the side of her face. Feeling the strength of Byron's fingers kneading through her hair as he towered above her, Judy cocked her head and parted her lips as far as she could to accommodate the virile beast.

As expected, a hearty and tortured series of grunts rose from Judy's chest and spilled through her flared nostrils the instant Byron shoved his manhood forward. It was a reaction he'd grown accustomed to from the women he'd met over the years. The initial lurching and coughing, the attempts to come at it from a different angle, the frustration that at times led to surrender, while others to refocus their efforts. The fun part was seeing just how far each woman would go, and Judy Melvin just happened to be the next woman in line. If there was one thing Byron would discover, Judy wasn't a quitter.

There was nothing tender or remotely romantic about the way Byron led Judy to the center of that 16th green, and for that, Judy was thankful. Considering the depravity of what she'd suggested to him back on the street outside the bar where his friends were probably still wondering where he was, the last thing Judy needed was tenderness. For the task she at hand, she'd found the perfect tool.

The nautical serenade of the incoming tide rising from the beach less than 200 feet away, it mixed with the static rush of the blood in her head until Judy was so disoriented she had choice but to lower herself down to the ground. Byron's right hand bracketed on the back of her head as he kept his cock snug in her mouth, he stepped forward with her until Judy was safely on her back. Dropping down to one knee, Byron grabbed the 16th's flagstick with his left hand and held it in the air above the married woman struggling to accommodate him, the symbolism clear in his gesture.

Finally tossing the flagstick aside, Byron planted his knees to each side of Judy's head and pressed his groin down on top of her, essentially staking his own claim. Feeling the older woman's tongue spinning like a unhinged windmill around his buried prick, Byron began to grind his torso down on top of her in short and brutal, face-fucking churns.

His hairy balls slapping down on Judy's chin like a plush fist, considering the build-up he'd endured earlier in the evening, Byron knew he could shoot his pasty seed down the trembling woman's throat anytime he wanted. Reminding himself of the idea she'd proposed however, he pulled back before passing the point of no return. Pushing the woman's black skirt all the way up to her waist, Byron admired the beauty of her pale, Victorian thighs glimmer beautifully in the darkness below. The powerful scent of Judy's arousal thick with each inhale he took, Byron grabbed two handfuls of her panties and jerked them down with savagely efficient intent.

The sensation of her bare feet and knees on the cool, damp Bermuda grass had been one thing, but to now have her naked ass resting on the green was something else entirely. Swinging her feet out to each side as Byron took his place between her thighs, Judy let out a harrowing yelp that stirred every nightbird in the vicinity when he pressed his slurping mouth down on her steaming trough. Wrapping her legs tight around the younger man's swiveling head, Judy dug her fingers into his dark hair and rutted her hips upwards to meet his devouring assault.

Byron's first inclination was to try and prep Judy for the same experience he'd tried with the young girl in the bathroom stall. Flipping the middle finger of his right hand out like an unsheathed switchblade, Byron nudged the married woman's thighs all the way apart before jabbing the tip of the digit up against the doorstep of her virgin anus. Continuing to swirl his tongue across her gumball sized clit as he tickled Judy's anal rim, Byron flexed his forearm then drove the finger forward.

"OOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW," Judy bayed to the moon above, wrenching side to side on the moist ground as her pussy gushed across Byron's face.

"Oh God please no...Oh God please no...," Judy winced, her fingers digging at her serendipitous lover's scalp before he could twist the probe past his first knuckle.

More than anything, Byron wanted to push the whimpering woman past her limits, but given the way his erection was divoting the ground below, he knew time was of the essence. Sweeping his tongue like a whirling dervish several more times through Judy's glistening cunt, Byron then eased up her torso, pulled the straps of her dress down and allowed her milky white breasts to spill free across her chest.

Knifing his face through the valley of Judy's cleavage, Byron greedily dined on the bosom of another man's wife as she writhed and bucked beneath him. Massaging his right hand through Judy's long brown hair as he squeezed her titties with his left, Byron's hungry mouth covered every square inch of her ample endowment until her pleas to fuck her were ripping through the thick night air.