Flashbacks Pt. 03

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Please read part one or part two before you read this. Part one is just a plain sex story, an intro into what my life became, but starting from part two the plot starts. I’m not going to waste people’s time recapping what came before, so if you want to be confused, or you just want to cherry pick the hard stuff and ignore the irritating and confusing plot elements, go ahead. “Art,” if this is that, “is whatever you need it to be.” – Joe Castillo

“It has been said that politics is the second oldest profession. I have learned that it bears a striking resemblance to the first.” – Ronald Reagan

*****

“Drugs? In the drink?” I was confused, so confused. Who ruffies someone after warning them? Somehow that gorgeous woman had the ability to keep me off my guard, off my feet, never fully grasping what had just happened before something else happened.

“Yes, the bartender asked for your body size to give you the correct dosage; but it’s a bit tricky. He underestimated your weight. If you do choose to drink it, and it’s all your choice, leave a little left in the glass or you’ll overdose.” Her blue eyes calmly and burningly flared my skin, and I looked back at her through the clouds of my storm.

I thought if maybe I went back further, I could catch up. ” A hundred grand?” I repeated numbly.

“My name is Anne,” she said. Dammit, she had not answered my question, and yet told me something she knew I wanted to know. “Anne Jamieson.”

She was not an Anne. Such a plain name for such a glorious vision. A swirl of white, a pale Amazonian butterfly – Not an “Anne”. Angel, or Hope, or, or… names swirled through and out of my mind, but not a damn one of them was “Anne”. She watched with some amusement. She knew just what I was thinking. Behind that drop dead, painfully beautiful face lived a keen mind. I had no idea that she was wasn’t smart, she was brilliant. Amazingly so.

“Let’s get together in a few hours,” she continued. “We’ll go into more detail, but go have the time of your young life. Just go to this motel, give the man $500 when he comes in, and then just enjoy yourself.”

“But first,” she said, “the drink.” Again, she confused me and spun me through the fog. I turned around… Man? What man? Room before or after the man? After, it must be. But the drink before the man? Drink, Man, Room? No, Drink, Room, Man. But $500, I didn’t have $500. And I don’t do drugs. I did have the drink, and it was drugged, but I don’t do drugs. I kept skittering from one topic to the next, a bee who can’t find his wings…

“I don’t have $500,” I protested plaintively, and she handed me ten grand. TEN GRAND. A nice neat stack of crisp, bank fresh hundred dollar bills.

What in the holy hells was going the fuck on??

She laughed at my obvious, continuing, absolute swirling confusion, dimples caressing her cheeks, brightening the room. “If you don’t drink, the money is yours, and I’ll have someone drop the other ninety k with you tomorrow. This is a journey of yours, a journey that I’m sponsoring. Hop off now, and earn a hundred, and never know where the road leads to.” She was giving me just enough glints in the water to see the hook, but I didn’t know if I wanted to bite.

“Just know, I need a definite answer from you.” To what? Answer to what? What? Should I count the money? Meet the man? Get screwed up on… whatever that was?

“That drink is your answer. If you drink that cup, with all the unknown swirling inside, you are taking a step – you’re letting yourself drop backward and putting your life in my hands.” She continued, “It won’t hurt you, and it will wear off, but it IS potent stuff. You’ll be out of it for a while, and be very… pliant… unable to resist. Just about anything.”

“So just this drink, and then we start?” I asked, and she nodded, hair falling over her face, and brushed the golden silk back. She couldn’t BE anything but sexy.

“Yes,” she said, “It’s a powerful and decisive choice. Drink, yes or no?” She wasn’t challenging, she wasn’t pushing, she really wanted me to make a choice with my eyes open; a yes or no with full knowledge of the high chimney over the unknown that I balanced precariously on.

She was deliberately not using her charms to shove it down my throat. But she couldn’t help it; even the blind man feels the sun from its warmth. And so I mardin escort looked at the drink for a long time, drops of crystalline water slowly running down the tall glass. Brown, slightly carbonated, it looked just like a coke.

I stared at her, drunk with her beauty and the memory of her huge package between her legs. It was a heady mixture of lust and fear. I just didn’t know what to do.

And then I realized what I was seeing in her, saw her desire for me to drink but her savage need not to push me. I saw her staring down at the table so as not to catch my eyes, knowing that just those icy shards could command glaciers and grind down mountains, trying her damndest to harness her radiance, muzzle her primal sexual power… And it was that failed trial, her mighty and doomed attempt NOT to push me in one direction or another that made my decision.

I lifted the glass, and smoothly drank it down, carefully leaving about an inch at the bottom. I stifled a burp as the bubbles bounced in my stomach.

“Now what?”

I was in the hotel suite when in walked an Adonis, a tall, wide, bronzed man. Lush couches, windows slightly open letting in the cool summer breezes, hard marble and soft deep carpets – beautiful and tasteful. Not the place for this… Whatever this turned out to be.

He had a button down shirt that was open to the wind, and the wind, just like a movie, was there to tousle his hair back and forth. His six pack was not just there, it was THERE, chiseled muscle over what seemed like nothing. You could literally run your finger over their round curves and never feel any softness. He wasn’t straining to show them off, like so many have to do – he just had them.

I tremblingly gave him the $500 as Anne had instructed, and he tucked the bills in his shirt pocket.

Then as he slowly, languorously took off his shirt, I reached forward and started to caress his stomach, his small, aware nipples, his hairless body. Shaven and so lightly oiled to shine in the moonlight, he opened the knot holding his sweats and they drifted to the ground. I know they fell, this wasn’t a dream – but they seemed to float down forever, a slow motion parachute. He stepped effortlessly forward and his cock hung down. Good size, uncut, but it seemed small compared to his chiseled body.

I never found out – I never said a word to him, either time we met – but if he was ‘roided it was done just right – no ridiculous veins popping over muscles, no silly small areas where there really weren’t muscles. You know the knees on a steroid addict can’t grow, the elbows; and then there are the muscles popping out of the skin where you didn’t even KNOW there were muscles… But this man was just perfect. He looked like he could sweep me up into the air, toss me over his shoulder, and swing back into the trees, with me playing the part of Jane. But I was a Jane that was 6″1, toned body built of the gym, sleek football and track and fitness. And I was no Jane.

We would have been a good pair if he didn’t GLOW. I was hot, I was told, and I believed it – whether vanity, or not, let’s be honest… But he shone from inside with a light that told you, it just said in words that couldn’t be spoken, that his body was a glorious expression of what a man could be. I just didn’t hold up next to him.

But tonight I was the Tarzan. I couldn’t believe my luck, what was going to happen… And then he sank to his knees, which sank soundlessly into the deep carpet, and opened my pants. I was already hard, had popped to attention as soon as he walked in, and his velvet mouth went from the top to the bottom effortlessly.

It stayed at the bottom, for what seemed like minutes, but it had to be less, and then without breathing, he flexed his throat, and my head was hugged and released. He was deep throating my oversized head. Massaging it. He kept his movements up, over and over again, and just when I was reaching the end, he stopped and slowly, slowly lifted his mouth and looked up at me in adoration.

His brown eyes sparkled with… What? Hunger? Yes, it WAS hunger, a lust to suck me back into his mouth, a lust to blow my load and feel my hard cock in his mouth, his perfect mouth.

It was crazy. Impossible. But he kept his soft mouth around the head, gently rolling his tongue around van escort it, teasing me and keeping me rock hard, but getting no further.

And then, after holding my eyes forever, he slowly lowered himself back onto me, and his throat tensed again, and again, and it never stopped, and it kept flexing and kneading my cock head until I couldn’t hold it, I grabbed his black hair and tried to push myself into him further, and he stopped me by sheer strength, the effortless, rock hard immovability of a mountain. He knelt in front of me like a carven statue, but one hand lifted, held my thigh from moving forward, and there was no contest. He never stopped squeezing my cock head with his powerful throat, and he did it harder and harder, but all my thrusting and straining let me go no further forward, but I wasn’t going to go backward, no way. And then he moved his hand, his hands, and they grabbed the cheeks of my ass, pulling them wide apart and my whole body towards his magic mouth.

I felt, I thought maybe I felt, the gentle brush of something against the pubic hair around my asshole, like maybe some one was gently stroking the hair only, and I was going to look backward, but he was pulling so hard that I felt his throat loosening, and that was glorious, and then he bore down on my head, grabbing the base of my cockhead with his throat, keeping me in and warm and controlled, and I shoved myself into him, maybe a little deeper, as his throat slid just a tad towards my tightening balls, and his mouth was perfectly sized for my dick, and the mystery behind me rubbed a quick wet finger against my back hole. I felt a warm, soft, HUGE forearm of flesh that couldn’t be a dick, not that huge, rubbing along my entre ass, and I thought for a moment, a flash of fear and yes, anger, that I was going to get split, but then the cock moved past my hole, and it nestled with the base against my asshole, with huge, hot balls resting against mine from behind, and oh my god, maybe I did want that in me, but no, I gave, I didn’t take, and that monstrous cock wasn’t what knocked me over the edge, it was the kneeling, magically muscled man, because he squeezed so tight around my cockhead with his throat, so tight, but not to make me stop, but to make me go, to make me blow, and so I exploded into him.

Time turned outside in, and was just a bam, then a blink of white starry flash, until BAM, there was that one spurt that feels like it melts fire and shoots like a cannon, and then another spurt, and this went on six, eight, a thousand blasts of spunk, I couldn’t tell, and I just kept coming, and the cum just disappeared into this waiting warm throat, and it slid willingly into him, as he controlled and guided my load down into the very essence of him, even as it came to him, jet by splash by flood, my huge load, I always blew a huge load, and when I was done, the mystery cock pushed into my ass, hard, spreading them wide, even wider than my kneeling man’s hands were gripping and pulling them open, and fiery manicured nails slid around my chest and squeezed hard, just my chest and two warm, firm, soft breasts pressed against my back, and I could feel the nipples get pushed back inside the breasts from the force of the squeeze, but I still felt the tits, so nice, so hot and spreading across my back like a pillow right out of the dryer, and the nipples two dull pencil points pressing right inside my shoulder blades. My god they were huge. The cock slid gently up and out of my ass cheeks, with the balls sliding along with them, one two, right against my asshole and then followed the cock and disappeared in a sudden breath of unfair cool.

My blowjob king still gripped my ass cheeks apart so hard, and I heard a sound behind me, and I couldn’t turn my head completely, so I just saw a figure exit the room, with light behind it, and it was a woman, a full bodied woman, wide shouldered but not like a fullback, no… just a wide tall built woman, a woman to beat men into submission, a woman who cast a shadow of awe, and through the light from the hallway I could see a huge cock, a monster cock, an unbelievably thick baseball bat of a cock swinging gently with and between her swaying hips, and when the door closed, my man released my ass, stopped holding me up, and I fell backward onto the couch. My spread ass cheeks, my loosened ankara escort hole, slowly went back to normal on the plush couch.

Then I looked down at the man, and he licked his lips, gave me a thank you smile, like I had given him a gift, a GIFT, and slowly turned away from me. He let me see his perfect, rock hard ass walk away from me. The muscles rolled and slid over themselves, his legs, the ass; his glorious asshole puckered, shaven and so alluring, his shoulders, all the smooth superb curves and angles. He stopped, giving me a full profile, and licked two fingers on his right hand. Then he turned his back on me, leaned over, held himself open with one hand, and rubbed his puckered hole until the fingers slipped inside, and I started to get hard again. Without looking back again, he let them slide out of his asshole, stood, and walked out. I saw that his cock and low balls were completely hairless, just like the rest of him, and his cock was almost hard, and pointed down at the floor, hooded with his beautiful foreskin. He closed the door quietly behind him.

I noticed the gentle breeze from the huge windows over my sweaty body. Just sat and heaved air into my body, my pulse slowly dropping until I no longer felt t shake my eardrums, until I was just tired and sleepy. I wished I had a blanket.

Then, there was a gentle knock at the door, and it opened – an older woman came in, smiled at my naked, sweating body in the moonlight, and I was trembling on the wet couch, now from cold, not lust. She leaned over, not invading my personal space; which was pretty much mush at this point anyway. I didn’t know what she was going to do, this gentle librarian of a woman, and she started to pick up his clothing. Anne hadn’t told me what to expect.

“You might want to get dressed, dear,” and she sounded more like a mother than mine ever did.

I did, and then in a trembly voice, asked her “um, but, what happens now? I mean, do I, did I,” and she smiled at me like I had just presented her with a good grade on a test. “Who was in here with us?”

“You should know that I can’t tell you anything, honey. But if I had to make a guess, you did just fine, for whoever was in the room.” She smiled again at me, both proud and happy for me. She was dressed in conservative clothing, and her short hair was a mix of fair brown and light grey – but it suited her. Older but not aged, experienced yet timeless. Could be forty, could be sixty. Her essence overshadowed her appearance. “I’ve rarely seen John so happy. You really filled him up, you know. But we have the room for only a little while longer, sweetie,” she continued, “so you should pack it in.” And then she left the suite, and softly closed the door behind me.

And for the life of me, in was back in my mind, as I slowly started to get dressed, a small smile grew on my face from her last words.

I know, I know, sexual innuendo is so childish, and I’m trying to stop. But it’s hard. So HARD.

I saw Anne, afterward, a few days afterward, after the next chapter I’ll submit. I’m trying to keep this whole story clear, not chronological. So the times will jump from time to time. I’ll try to keep it clear. Well, there goes the fourth wall…

She stood in front of me, in another immaculate white suit, a different one, with small patches of see through fabric, but nothing showing, she could have walked down the street and everybody would swear afterward that she was almost nude, but she was actually completely covered. And they would be so distracted by her swirling curves and dazzling face that they would miss what I looked for now, that huge package nestled low beneath her legs. It must have been held down, but it was too big to hide completely. She couldn’t have been the full-bodied woman from a few nights ago, different body type. But she was packing also. I wanted to see it so badly, maybe just hold it. That’s all, I told myself, and I managed to convince myself that I wasn’t a bottom, a fag, I was just a top who wanted to take men, and then that iron portcullis of prejudice slammed back down, leaving me safe in my blindness. I asked “So I paid a guy to have sex with me?”

She nodded with a bright smile, but it was slightly tarnished by the memory of the Adonis who had just worshipped my cock, that she was not TOTALLY blinding in my mind, and her perfection wasn’t diminished, but its power had receded just a bit. “That’s exactly what you did. You paid a prostitute to have sex with you. In the hard, sword blade eyes of the law, of course.”

“But isn’t that a crime?” I asked plaintively.

“Oh, yes, quite,” she said calmly. “Just one of my many quiet crimes.”

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