Writing from PhoenixbyRonnyJane©
Hey Lisa, it's me RJ. I'm currently sitting in the Phoenix International Airport typing on my laptop. I got here way too early since my flight is about three hours away, but thought I'd send you an e-mail to get you caught up on all that's happened. I have a horrible hangover, but boy do I have so much to tell you about.
Girlfriend, this has been one wild week. The conference was boring although I put on a good show and didn't miss any of my meetings. I still learned some things and will have a good report back to my bossman by Monday. The food was great but I barely ate...I drank my meals the entire week. I think I've lost about five pounds. I've talked and laughed so much my voice is hoarse. Lack of sleep isn't helping either. But it has been great. I had so much fun I don't really want to come back home.
Did you know it is currently 110 degrees at 9 a.m. in the morning? Phoenix in September...gotta love it!
Oh before I forget, can you believe I managed to cram all seven days worth of clothes into one carry-on? Wearing skimpy stuff all the time helps you know! I'm wearing my new blouse now. Remember the one I told you about? The spandex top with the turquoise and blue and black shapes that is dangerously low-cut? It matches my spandex skirt that I've had forever. Love it!
You won't believe what happened to me last night. But before I go there, I need to tell you about the rest of the week. I'm such a slut, Lisa. But damn, I can't help it.
Well, it all started at the airport. I got there early too. Just following the rules...911 screwed up everything about flying. So I had a couple of hours to waste before my flight out. You can't smoke anywhere except this one bar all the way through the terminal where you first walk in. So of course I headed back that way after finding my terminal.
I noticed this guy sort of following me. Not really following me, but staring at me, and going in the same direction. So I got to the bar and sat down. And here he comes. I ordered a drink. Yes, I realize it was only 8 a.m. but what the hell! You know I'm a nervous flier. He ordered a drink too and sat right beside me!
Well it turns out we had the same flight. He kept looking at me and letting his eyes drift to my cleavage. I kept smiling and drinking. I gave him a once over too. You could tell he flew often and was some sort of salesman. You know, khakis with a button up shirt, looking comfortable but yet professional. He did have amazing blue eyes. He wasn't all that but I was enjoying his attention.
He was marketing some type of water invention that he had patented -- oh I don't remember what the significance was -- but you could tell he was excited about it. We small talked until it was time for our flight and guess what? His seat was next to mine! I wonder if somehow he made that happen by requesting a seat change. Can you even do that? Or was this just a stroke of good luck?
We were both buzzed from the drinks so early in the morning and he started leaning into me. He was literally all over me. I think he was trying to get a better look at my boobs. But hell, half of those 36Ds were already showing! We started talking after the plane took off. He already knew I was not a good flier, so he started telling me what all the noises were to try to keep me calm. Like, "That's just the wheels going back up in the plane", or, "Those are just the engine thrusters,"...or whatever he called them. He even said, "Did you know a plane landing is really just a controlled crash?"
OK, that scared me and my eyes got big and then I leaned into him. I told him he shouldn't say things like that to me. That I would end up in his lap. (wink) So he ordered me another drink. We drank a LOT. And we talked a LOT. You can imagine how bummed -- and a little pissed off -- I was when he fessed up that he was married. He even pulled the family picture out of his wallet. Two kids, hot petite blonde wife. I asked him if he flirted like this very often. He goes into this story that his marriage is not a happy one, and his wife never gives it up. At that point I was cocky from the drinks, and I think I really did roll my eyes at him.
You know, Lisa, I learned my lesson with my first -- and last -- married man. I don't go there. Although that bastard knew how to fuck...whew! Do you remember him? Kenny? Or "K" as you nicknamed him. I love how we nickname all of our men. Remember Chris the "trucker boy", or Jay the "chiller guy", or that guy I met in Nashville...what was his real name? Oh well, we named him "Army guy". He was the guy I fucked before he went off to Iraq. Hey, a woman's gotta do what a woman's gotta do. Just supporting my country.
It was a short flight anyhow as I had a stopover in Memphis. So we parted ways there. However, I did give him my pen name at Literotica just in case he ever wanted to chat.
By the way, I loved the Memphis Airport. It was small and quaint and easy to get around in the terminal. I prefer smaller airports. Of course it seemed on every surface there was something about music. It had a bar, and that's where I headed. The Blue Note Café. I sat my half-drunk ass up there and guess what! Another man sat beside me.
Hey don't laugh...I haven't fucked any of them...yet.
I don't remember his name. He was an older man who was retired from the military. I don't remember which branch of the military either. But I ran a tab because yet again I had a layover. He was a very polite man. You know I really do like older men. The chivalry, the manners, the old-school approach to how they treat women.
He ended up paying for my drinks when I had to leave. He held my chair when I stood to leave, those tall bar stools I have a hard time getting on and off of because I'm a little short, especially with a few drinks in me. He was a sweet guy though. He flat out told me I was sexy. He even said, "Oh if I was only younger." It was a sweet diversion to a busy airport.
So I got on the plane. And just my freaking luck, a very large man was in the aisle seat next to me and this tiny woman by the window. I was worried I would have an uncomfortable flight with his girth up against me. But you know how I am, I'm going to have a good time wherever I go. I swear this man was the funniest fellow I've met in a long time. His son was in the row across the aisle. Everybody was laughing at him carrying on. His voice carried is all I can say. He told the best jokes though.
Anyway, I arrived in Phoenix and got shuttle bussed to the hotel. When I stepped out of the air-conditioned SUV the heat slapped me squarely in the face. My God Phoenix is hot! I'm not talking humid or warm or a little bit muggy like home...I mean it's get-out-the-tank-top-and-find-me-a-pool-and-a-cool-drink HOT! On every corner and on every overhang possible the hotel had these water jets spraying out this fine mist of water. At first I thought, "Man this shit is going to put my hair in complete frizz mode." You know how my curly hair is...a perfect barometer for humidity. It turns into this long brown mass of frizz ball. But when your shoes start sizzling on the sidewalk you WELCOME that mist. I could have BATHED in that mist. You start worshipping those suckers when you walk through them.
Yep, you guessed it. When I got everything situated in my room, I headed straight to the bar. I spent lots of time in this bar over this past week. Too much time...and too much money. But I was free for the first time in a long time. No job to rush to, no traffic to drive in, no home to maintain, no child to attend to, no cat to feed. I had a suitcase full of cigarettes and clean clothes, and time on my hands for once in a very long time. I know that sounds bad...but damn, I felt like a rabid lioness just let loose from a small cage. Freedom. Sweet freedom. I took advantage of it let me tell you.
I became great friends with the bartenders over the last seven days. One in particular. His name was David, although I kept calling him James for some reason. Embarrassingly, night after night, I called him by the wrong name. Even with him having a name tag. Wrong after wrong after wrong. I figured it out though. He was Native American and looked just like a guy in my classes named James. David didn't seem to mind. I deduced it was possibly because I was a big tipper. Or I thought maybe he was accustomed to freed "cougars" by working in a bar all the time. But I realized he began to enjoy my banter, and possibly my boobies too which always seemed to be hanging slightly out of my blouse. I winked at him a lot too. I became quite enamored with him as well.
David was ten years younger than me I found out. So that put him at 30 years old. Had one young son like me. Divorced. He was not fat, but was a tall and large man nonetheless. He had black hair perfectly combed back with hair spray. His demeanor was calm and slow but yet he was very attentive to my needs. Soft spoken always. When he leaned over the bar to hear what I was saying amongst the loud music and rowdy voices, I smelled his cologne. He smelled good. And even when I was speaking with other passersby from my classes or other bar patrons that happened to sit by me, we always maintained a seemingly innocent eye contact every few minutes. I made it a point to always sit in his section. I found him incredibly sexy. I have to admit, he gave me the warm and fuzzies. You know? That feeling in the pit of your stomach...butterflies if you will. Or maybe horniness.
Night after night, after long boring days of seminars and speakers and meeting people in the conference, I always went to my David. Now that's not to say I didn't have other kinds of fun. Let me tell you, I had loads of fun this week. For some reason I attracted a lot of men. I think they can smell a horny woman a mile away. And I was happy! It was almost like one big party. Everyone was getting to know one another and the camaraderie among all the attendees became stronger and stronger.
A few nights I hung out with another guy. His name was Tim. Always in public, except for once when we went to his room. David had already warned me not to stray from the hotel grounds alone ever, so I stayed close. I already knew Tim was married and I wasn't going "there" although I think he wanted to. We sat a few nights at the outside bar letting the jets of mist fall over us and drinking to oblivion and talking about everything we could come up with. It was an easy friendship. We spilled guts to each other about all of our naughty and sundry and honest and innocent lives, and became fast friends. He invited me to his room. Of course I went...I needed some air-conditioning. You won't believe what we did!
His room was nearly at the top of this high rise hotel and when I walked into his room I was immediately drawn to the window. All of the curtains were pulled back. The mountains in Phoenix are absolutely breathtaking! The colors are fabulous. The clays and the blues and the browns and the oranges of the mountains are stunning. He had the perfect view...much better than mine...I had the damn pool as my backdrop. The day was nearing sunset and I believe I audibly gasped as the beautiful sight. I was looking out of the window holding my Budweiser and surprisingly I felt his body pressing into my backside. His hands lightly stroked my arms and he kissed the back of my head. So sweet. I have to admit, it was a very nice feeling. It gave me the tingles.
My body immediately loosened up and my ass made slight movements against his groin. He kissed my neck and I laid my head on his shoulder so he could get closer. His hot breath on my chest felt nice. Very nice.
I turned around and he asked me if I wanted to do a line. I was completely thrown off. A line? I mean what does a line have to do with kisses and hugs and stroking? I looked around and noticed he had cocaine perfectly lined up on the top of the dresser. Four long lines. What? Cocaine? Hell yeah! I was tired from the jet lag, lack of sleep, drinking, and long days. Cocaine sounded like a good plan. He handed me a straw and I snorted my two...one in each nostril. I immediately started to feel its effects and held back the urge to sneeze. My tongue and face became incredibly numb. My heart started racing in my chest. He actually brought cocaine from North Carolina, through two airports, without getting caught. I asked him if he had balls of steel or something. I mean damn! That's brave and stupid all at the same time.
So we sat down in the two chairs by the large picture window and talked and talked and talked and talked. I started warming up to him and began thinking about breaking my rule of no fucking married men. Our knees kept rubbing together. So we talked about it. And talked some more. We were buzzed. We did two more lines each. My hands were shaking so wildly from the drugs that I screwed up the lines and he had to redo them.
He's a grandfather for God's sake and had been married to the same woman for 25 freaking years. Then he told me he can't get it up anyway...that he may be able to with me because he found me incredibly sexy and sweet and cuddly...but there was no guarantee. Poor thing. I'm flattered, I'm buzzed, I'm drunk, I'm frustrated. There is no other way of saying it. So I just took the pressure off and told him it's not happening. It was getting a little too deep if you know what I mean. I was too fucked up to think straight, much less contemplate the fall back of my actions.
So we headed back down to the bar. At this point we were having trouble keeping still. I haven't done cocaine in years. The entire ride down the elevator we were groping...it was just fun. But we didn't do the deed and ended up drinking until the bar closed sometime that morning. I think that night is what made me incredibly hoarse with all the talking going on. The next day was HELL. I hardly slept at all. I felt like death warmed over. I'm getting too old for this shit.
Oh and there was this other guy. Quit laughing Lisa...just stop it right now!
It got a little more heated with him. His name was Scott. Scott actually sat with Tim and me one night. Yes, I was sitting with two men in a strange town in a strange bar far far away from home. For some reason I kept getting free beer sent to me. I wasn't sure where they were coming from but I kept drinking them. I decided earlier in the week I would stick with beer. Whiskey makes me too wild. Beer is safer. And my two acquaintances were nice enough to keep them coming as well. We were toasted. I enjoyed the conversation though.
So I guess Tim was coked out again that night and retired early. I gave it the old girl scout try to stay up and see what Scott had to offer. Well I ended up offering him more than what I got. To change scenery we went to the pool. It was well after midnight and nobody was around. We sat down facing each other with our knees almost touching. I felt sorry for him in a way because earlier he had told me he was working near the Virginia Tech massacre a few years earlier. He told a great story about the entire murder and how it made him feel and how it all went down. Sad story.
Scott looked at me all of a sudden and starts talking in his low outside voice. Several rooms faced the pool and we didn't want to get loud and rowdy and wake anybody up. He had a very sexy voice. He looked sort of boyish with blonde hair and had a boy-next-door demeanor about him. He wasn't my type really, but I still felt a connection to him. It got very deep, very sexy, very fast. I mean the entire conversation was low and nervous and sort of electric at the same time.
He said, "You are so hot...just beautiful." His eyes were staring straight at mine. They never wavered. And then I got a shock when he blurted, "I would strip you down right now and fuck you." That's when I looked away and down, for some reason that statement embarrassed me. I felt a blush forming high on my cheeks. And a blush came over my pussy at the same time.
I asked him if he had a hard on. He said yes. He asked me if I was horny. I said yes. His next question was, "Is your pussy wet?" I told him it was very wet...and throbbing. He shifted in his seat at that comment, but his eyes continued to bore into mine. The conversation continued like this, almost like a tennis match with the back and forth, until we were worked up into a slather. Both of us were squirming now.
I stood up and motioned for him to follow me. I swayed on my feet from the beer and the heat and he placed his hand on the small of my back to steady me, and we looked at each other again and smiled. My room was right there, through the pool doors and to the left. The temperature inside the room felt almost icy compared to the smothering heat we just walked out of. We started kissing and groping each other. Our breaths were heavy and deep and we were just balls of horniness. He removed my top, then my bra, and they crumpled to the floor. He began sucking my hardened nipples while stroking my back and hair. I couldn't help but moan, and my knees got weak and chill bumps raced down my stomach. I sat on the bed. I told him to remove his pants so I could see his hard dick. Down went his pants in a heap at his ankles. It was a nice one, hard as a rock, with a slight curve. He was just a young frisky fellow. And I made up my mind that I was going to give him the best blowjob he's ever gotten in his life.
When I saw it standing at attention I couldn't help falling to me knees and licking the end. I looked back up at him as I placed his head inside my mouth. My tongue slinked around on his underside moistening his girth. I felt the blood vessels all over it and my tongue kept up its task. Inch by inch I took him slowly into my eager mouth. I was watching him with my upturned eyes and his head lulled backward. His knees were bending with each slurp I took.
I made him sit down on the bed and stretch out to be comfortable with his legs over the edge and his feet touching the carpet. I never left my knees. His cock slipped back into my drooling mouth and he gasped. His thighs quivered. My mouth slid all the way down on his shaft until I felt my chin on his balls. My face was buried in his groin.
It was on. I wasn't going to let up. I was going to make him come and I was going to suck every last drop. You haven't lived until you've had an RJ blowjob.
My mouth was full of spit. I never swallow any built up spit. I use it to my advantage. I hold it all in my mouth and spread it around and build it up some more. I love it when a big fat hard cock gags me. The spittle really flows then. And it's the good slick stuff. So that's what I did. I plunged down on his dick until I felt it hitting the back of my throat and then pressed forward even more. I could feel it sliding in my inner throat, and I made my throat close over his hardness. I made swallowing motions making it go even further down. Gulp...gulp...gulp. I closed my throat around him over and over as hard as I could. By this time, Scott was moaning fairly loudly. And I gagged big time when he rammed his hips forward and then released. There it comes! My mouth immediately filled with more spit.
Mmmm...that's what I like. Cram your fucking cock into my mouth. Fuck my face...make me take all of you. Take what you fucking want. Make me feel like a fucking fuck face slut.
Although my mouth was filled with hard cock, my tongue shot out and licked his balls whenever it could. One of my favorite things to do, and men love it. Cram and lick, cram and lick. Mmmm.
Scott grabbed the sides of my head, entwined his hands into my long hair, stood up while yanking my head back, and began fucking my willing pie hole. Ram, ram, ram. Oh yeah baby, he liked the fuck hole under my nose. He was holding me by my hair and thrusting in and out now. He was in control of this situation.