Secret Life Ch. 01bypamela_ussss©
Thank you for your comments about my recent story. I can't tell you how much I appreciate the kind words. I realize that after having finished reading of my adventures, there is no reason to spend a few extra minutes sending me an email. The fact that so many of you do is very flattering and spurs me on to write again. I won't make you wait a full year for another one. This experience happened when I was quite young, but it's a story that involves, yet again, older men.
For those who have not read any of my other stories, I'll describe myself. I'm 5'4, with brown hair and eyes. I have put on a few pounds since this adventure, but at the time I was thinner, with a little baby fat that was quite noticeable on my face. I believe it added a certain roundness and innocence to my overall look. My breasts were 34c even back then. I matured quite young in that department.
I was 20 and I had finally moved out of my family home and into my own place. Many of you probably remember the intoxicating feeling of freedom and independence that came with your very own first apartment. It was modest, not to say run down, and I shared it with another girl called Lisa, whom I didn't know very well. We used the usual cheap methods to decorate: Old furniture donated from our respective parents and siblings; unframed posters of Impressionist paintings on the walls; old items we picked up at flea markets and called - our own little joke - "antiques"; and tiny plants in cheap plastic pots that we attempted to grow. The blinds were picked up second-hand, and did not fit each window perfectly. Our sound system was a boom box that had seen better days. Lisa had inherited it from an old boyfriend. It didn't matter. Lisa and I hardly knew each other, but felt bound together by this exciting adventure. Many nights we'd buy an inexpensive bottle of wine and sit around sharing confidences, giggling as we got a little drunk and told of our sexual adventures.
What Lisa didn't know, and what I could not bring myself to tell her, was a secret I had kept from everyone. For the last few years I had felt an increasingly strong attraction to older men. Not just men a few years older, but men in their fifties. I couldn't explain it. I simply felt a stirring deep within me when older men would look me over on the street, or on the bus, anywhere. I didn't dare act upon it, but the feeling was inextricably tied to my sexuality. I had had a boyfriend, and the sex was fine, but I knew that I had ended it because he was my age. He had been devastated, and the fact that I hadn't been able to give him a believable reason for the break-up added to his confusion. I felt awful about hurting him, but the body wants what the body wants, and no amount of reason or goodwill can change that.
Then my unspoken desires were answered in a most unexpected way. I needed a job, and landed a position as a banquet waitress. I had no experience, but banquet waitressing was very easy. Hundreds of people eating the same meal, drinking the same wine. All you had to do was set up the tables, bring the food out and then remove the empty plates. If you wanted to go the extra distance you could fill up their water glasses without being prompted, but this was about the extent of the job. The pay wasn't great, but the hours fit in with school, and my colleagues were kind and helpful.
One night I arrived and found out we were setting up for one of those organizations like the Kiwanis Club. An organization of business people who got together to schmooze and do good deeds for the community at large. I put out the cutlery, folded the napkins, and opened countless bottles of wine in preparation. I then went in the back and had a quick bite to eat before the customers arrived. The manager called us into the kitchen and we began to take plates out to the floor on large trays.
I went through the large swinging doors and my knees almost buckled. There, in front of me, were about one hundred men, mostly middle-aged, and maybe two women, total. My heart hammered in my chest as I started placing the first course in front of each customer. We wore black skirts, white blouses, and a red vest provided by the hotel. I had put on black nylons and was wearing very sensible underwear. I felt the gazes of many of these men rest on my tits, and felt the heat of their attention on my ass as I walked away. I couldn't believe what was happening.
We finished delivering the first course and I quickly went to the bathroom. I locked myself in a stall and removed my nylons and panties with trembling fingers. I quickly passed a finger over my pussy, and found out, without much surprise, that I was wet. I washed my hands, stuffed the nylons and panties into my locker, and went back to work. The manager immediately saw I had taken off the nylons, which were part of our uniform. I told him I had noticed a very large tear in one of them, and decided the best thing to do was to go without them the rest of the evening. He looked annoyed but agreed with my decision.
The next few hours passed in a sexual daze. The manager certainly could not fault my performance that night. I went from table to table, filling up water glasses and being very friendly. Some of the men brushed their hands along my legs as I bent over to fill their glasses, and the fact that I never made a fuss about it made them bolder. Soon I could see some men eyeing me as I approached their table. These were the bold ones, the ones that would wait for me to fill up their glasses in order to get another feel of the slutty little waitress without nylons. I was all I could do not to lick my lips suggestively as I approached. My fantasy had become reality within the space of a few hours. I was being paid to fulfill an unspoken and largely undefined urge I had had for years: to be a sexy little plaything for older men. Some were married, but that didn't stop me, or them. At one point a man in his fifties was quite brazen about running his hands up my leg, all the way to my thigh. Thankfully it was a table far away from the eyes of the manager.
"Hey, show the lady some respect, Al." Commented one of his more conservative colleagues.
"Check out her nipples, for Pete's sake, she loves it." He retorted.
I had unbuttoned a few the buttons of my vest, and my hard nipples strained against my thin bra and the even thinner material of the white blouse. Some of the men laughed, and I blushed. I became quite worried that this man would go up far enough to find my juices running down my legs. The laughter and rude talk made me quiver inside.
The meal ended and the group drank coffee while one of their own made a speech. He spoke about the latest good works of the organization and gave amounts that had been collected for various charities.
The night slowly drew to a close. More and more tables emptied of customers, and the manager told a few of the waiters and waitresses to clock out. I asked to stay. This was a request that was usually granted. Most workers were more than happy get off their feet after 6 or 7 hours of walking around. I was told I could close.
The middle-aged man who had commented on my nipples was still at his table, with one other man. I didn't want him to leave, but there was nothing I could say. I was doing a job, and propositioning customers was unheard of and completely unacceptable. I had no idea what I would have said even if I could have approached him. He wasn't a beauty by any stretch of the imagination. He was married, slightly overweight, quite short, his face was red from alcohol, and he was dressed in a cheap blue suit. He had an impressive mane of hair, full and silver and brushed and blow-dried to perfection. We're all vain creatures, I guess, and his vanity was his hair. He looked to be around fifty.
I removed everything I could from the empty tables. To my relief my middle-aged man was still talking with his companion. I approached with the coffee jug and politely asked if he would like a refill. I ignored his companion, my only effort to let him know I was interested.
"I think I've drunk enough for one night, doll face" He told me, his eyes fastened to my tits. Once the manager had gone to his office I had opened my vest completely. My bra was perfectly visible through my blouse. Even the monicker "doll face", seemingly from another era, added to my excitement.
"Well please let me know if there's anything else I can do for you." I said, staring into his eyes and being as forward as I could while still being professional.
I turned away and went back to work. I heard them both laugh after a few seconds, and I imagine a rude comment had been made at my expense. It made little sense. Here was a man 30 years older than me, not very attractive, quite crude, and I was getting wet at the mere thought of being fucked by him.
Somehow he must have realized he had a chance with me. His table mate left to go to the bathroom, and I managed to walk close to him.
"What time to you finish up here, sweatheart?" He asked me.
"I should be done in about 45 minutes. There's just some kitchen side work to do and then I have to restock the wine bar." I answered. Why on earth was I giving him a run down of my schedule? It wasn't the least bit interesting to me, let alone a stranger.
"Need a lift home?" he inquired. He was probably the type of man who propositions every single woman he meets. I guess you couldn't fault it as a strategy. If a man propositions 100 women, he will still get lucky with one even with a 99 percent failure rate. I had met a few like that in college already, and I usually wanted to throw a drink in their face, or find something with which to club them. However, that night I knew that this man had just met his one in a hundred success.
"Well, if it's not too much trouble, sure." I attempted to sound aloof, but I was positive the tremor in my voice gave me away.
"I'll be outside waiting. Just don't take too long." He told me.
His friend came back and they talked a while longer. I rushed through the last bit of necessary work and went to my locker to leave my work jacket and put on my coat. I debated putting my panties on, but I knew I didn't really want to.
I went outside and saw a car idling on the other side of the street. It was him. I ran across and hopped in. It was a large, expensive car, a gas guzzler, and I sank into the passenger seat with a feeling of relief and luxury after having been on my feet for so long. I told him the name of my street and we started off. He started peppering me with questions, mostly sex related. When I told him I was single he acted mock surprised.
"A hot little thing like you? I find that hard to believe." He exclaimed.
"I had a boyfriend but we broke up." I replied, once again realizing I was giving more information that was really necessary.
"Wasn't giving you enough, was he?" He questioned, chuckling at his own lame joke. I grinned non-commitally, afraid to give an answer either way.
My coat had fallen open and my skirt had hiked up a little. I could see him eyeing my legs when the car stopped at lights. I felt an urge to spread them open, but I resisted. I still wanted this older man to take the lead. Discreetely watching his face, I could almost see him debating the best time to make his move. I thought I saw the moment of truth approaching. It was fascinating to observe.
"You sure got a nice set of gams, girl. Don't mind them touched either do you? I saw a few guys getting a feel at supper." He commented. I don't think I'd ever heard a man use the word "gams" before.
"Well, we try to act professional at work." I was the most neutral answer I could think of. I know it didn't make much sense in relation to his question. Unconsciously, I think I was trying to encourage him to be bolder.
"What about after work, honey?" He asked, his right hand leaving the steering wheel and landing on my knee.
I giggled like an idiot, but I didn't remove his hand. It was all the encouragement he needed. His hand was very soft, and he felt along my thigh.
"Yeah, you like having them touched. Feels good, doesn't it?" He asked, as his hand moved my knee closer to him, spreading me open slightly.
"Yes, it... it feels good." I answered, my voice having risen several octaves.
"That's right, girl. Let uncle Al make you feel good, just relax. Oh my, you're already wet, aren't you? Yeah, nice and wet. Throw that coat in the back seat and lift your skirt for me."
I took off the coat, lifted myself slightly off the seat and hiked my skirt until I could feel the coolness of the upholstery on my bare ass. I guess I had been a little too quick to obey his instructions, and the fact that I was without panties didn't make me look any more innocent.
"Haven't had a man in a while, have you girl?" He asked me, his fingers running along the slit of my shaved pussy. "I could see you were a little tramp at dinner, letting those men feel you up. All those old men wanting to fuck you. Turned you on, didn't it?"
He was hitting very close to home. I hadn't realized how brazen I'd been at work. My embarrassment at my behavior was overshadowed by my rising excitement. He didn't seem like an overly intelligent man, but he had observed me and now was describing how I felt with a precision that made my knees go weak. It gave him an advantage, an advantage I wanted him to have.
"Yes, it turned me on, I don't know why." I whispered, confessing to this dirty old man, confessing a feeling I had thought was hidden to the rest of the world.
"Maybe because a bad little girl like you needs old cock, maybe that's it." He chuckled again. He was describing my innermost feelings as if they were a matter of no importance. I spread my legs wider.
He continued to talk dirty to me, his finger massaging my clit and then sliding into my pussy, my legs now spread wide. He navigated the way to my home without any need for me to offer instructions. Finally, on my street, he asked me to point out my building. He slowed down and came to a stop at the curb. I could see the lights burning in our living room, and in Lisa's bedroom. There was no way I could take him up to our place.
"I'm sorry, I have a roomate. She's home." I explained.
He seemed unfazed. He asked me to direct him to the parking lot of our building. I did so, and he parked the car as far from the lights as possible. We were parked in a reserved space, but it was very late, and he probably assumed no one would be using it for a while.
"Take off your blouse, honey, I've wanted to see those tits for hours." He instructed.
I unbuttoned the blouse and then unsnapped my bra. My breasts spilled out. I was now in only a skirt, in this strangers car. He positioned me with my back against the door, my legs open and facing him.
"Suck on those nipples for uncle Al, girl. Yeah just like that, you like being watched, don't you? You like having old uncle All watch you be a little slut while you get finger fucked, don't you girl?"
I was using my mouth on my hard nipples. It never felt as good as when a man did it, but having this old man slide two fingers in my pussy while I sucked and bit on my nipples, and listening to his seemingly inexhaustible repertoire of filthy talk, was bringing me close to an orgasm. The pale light from the moon made my skin look very white, and looking down I could see his fingers slide in and out of me. The wet sound of his fingers going in and out of my pussy mingled with the sound of my own mouth sucking at my nipples. The car was permeated with the smell of my own sex.
He removed his fingers from my soaking cunt and fed them into my mouth. I leaned forward and sucked them as best I could. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine I was sucking a cock. I put my hands on his forearm, attempting to simulate holding onto a shaft while I sucked a hard prick. I tried to please this stranger, this man who obviously didn't want anything more than to fuck me.
"You suck like a pro, girl. Let's see how you do with the real thing."
He had managed to unzip and liberate his cock with one hand while I was concentrating on his fingers. I felt a hand go behind my neck and my head was pulled unceremoniously to his lap. It was difficult to see in the darkness whether he was big or not. It didn't matter. It matters less to girls than men think. I eagerly sank my mouth onto his cock, and started sucking. The bitter taste of his pre cum coated my tongue. He had a handful of my hair in his fist and bobbed my head up and down on his rigid member. It didn't help my technique, but I don't think he did it for that purpose. It was more for the feeling of control it gave him. The luxury of having a girl less than half his age suck his cock, while he guided her head up and down by her hair, must have been something he rarely got the chance to do, unless he was paying for it.
"That feels good. You must suck a lot of cock, girl. What would your daddy think, his little girl sucking an old man's cock? Does he know what a nasty, filthy little slut you are? I bet he doesn't, I bet he thinks you're a little angel, doesn't he?" He laughed again, a cruel laugh.
His hand had left my head, and I kept sucking away, licking around the head, going as deep as I could and then sucking hard as my mouth receded along the length of his cock. I would then swallow my own saliva and bob back down, my knees on the seat, my ass and pussy visible through the passenger side window that was quickly steaming up. His questions didn't require any answers. He simply threw them out into the air to excite himself. I'm not sure he even knew how much they excited me. His desire to humiliate me was for his benefit, but it had a powerful effect on me. I continued to slurp away at him, feeding his meat into my mouth until I almost gagged as it hit the back of my throat.
Finally he stopped talking and his breath became more ragged. Now he did put his hands back on my head. I continued my ministrations to the best of my ability, his desire to impale his cock down my throat making it hard to do anything more than provide a warm, wet mouth for him. My head was moved more quickly, and I felt the length of his shaft expand as his spunk travelled up towards my waiting mouth. He warned me not to get any on the seat, and I prepared myself the best I could for the eruption.
He grunted, as though he was involved in some strenuous activity, and his cum filled my mouth. My lips were locked around his prick, and I swallowed hard, the bitter, acrid taste running over my tongue and down my throat. I would swallow, breathe through my nose, and then swallow again, until I knew I had cleaned him completely.
Once he came he lost interest quickly. He looked at the digital clock on the dashboard and told me he was very late, and his wife would be worried. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and gathered my things. He reached into his shirt pocket and gave me his business card.
"Give me a call if you want some more." He said, a little gruffly.
He then leaned across the seat and opened the passenger door. He wanted me out. I stepped onto the parking lot pavement with my blouse and bra and coat in my hands, topless. My purse was slung across a bare shoulder. Without any ado he backed up and drove away. I pulled the coat on, covering my breasts. I felt like a prostitute, having just left a John's car.
As I walked towards the building, I realized he had never asked my name.
I made it quickly to the apartment. Lisa was in pajamas, watching television. The apartment felt warm and cozy, and Lisa greeted me with a smile and asked how the night had gone. I said it had been uneventful, and quickly went to my room before she asked why my coat was buttoned all the way to my throat. I changed into sweatpants and a tshirt and went back to the living room, getting myself a glass of juice in our small kitchen before joining Lisa.