A requested repost of an old story...

“Toying” With Her

I collect old toys on-line. I once heard such collecting described as “a sentimental journey back in time.” Whatever the reason, collecting is my passion, but only toys made by a specific manufacturer—the one who’d made my childhood toys—my nostalgic journey back into time.

Two years of collecting had my collection nearly complete; lacking only the real rarities not found in on-line auctions. To get them, one must go to live toy shows and buy them from other collectors.

Twice a year Pennsylvania holds such a show. One Fall I decided to attend. Not only would it give me a chance to buy and sell toys, but it would also allow me to meet other buyers and sellers I only knew in cyberspace. Kim was one such person.

She and I transacted over the internet. She mostly sold, I mostly bought. Although we talked about toys, her emails were flirtatious to the point I had the sense she was coming on to me. At first, I wrote my reaction off as wishful thinking; until another friend told me she’d given him that same impression. That news had my mind churning as I thought about the impending toy show. What the heck? I emailed her and told her I was attending, and if she was going too, would she like to have dinner one night? To my delight, she accepted the date.

Since I was selling toys, my table partner and I arrived a day early to make ready our display. The buying public wouldn’t be allowed inside until noon the following day. Since Kim was in that latter category, we agreed we’d meet at the entrance to the show. I’d only seen the small picture of her she’d posted on her web page. She appeared to be quite slim and in her late thirties.

Just past noon the second day, the show opened its doors to the public. I was scouring the entrants when I saw one very hot-looking number come through the door. She wore cowgirl boots, skin-tight jeans and a mid-drift blouse that showed off a very hard tummy. As I stood checking her out, thinking all sorts of horny thoughts, she looked up and waved, “Rob?”

My gawd, was this sexpot her? “Kim?”

We hugged and were soon laughing and making small talk as we made our way around the toy show. After 15 or 20 minutes I excused myself to get back to my abandoned table partner. She smiled and walked off in search of toys to buy for resale.

About a half-hour later she returned to my table and asked if I’d help her carry her purchases to her car. I was soon walking across the parking lot laden with arms full of toys. All seemed on the up-and-up as we unloaded toys and headed back to the show. As we strolled, she laced her arm around my elbow and pulled it to her, pressing it into her boob. She had to be aware of what had happened but held me there anyway.
How should I respond? After a few strides, fearing she’d think me a pervert, I pulled away. Better safe than sorry. But had this been accidental? The more I thought about it, the less likely that seemed. Deciding to test this new hypothesis, I extended my elbow until it was once again pressing flush against her breast. She didn’t flinch, seemingly oblivious to what I’d done. What the hell? An old flame of mine had dubbed this girl’s game, “Playing Boobie.” Who was I to deny her fun? We walked, arms intertwined, my elbow on her tit, back to the show. Visions of possibilities danced through my head.

We returned to my table. Before she left to seek more purchases, I asked what time she planned to leave. She claimed she’d seen virtually everything and suggested we leave early for drinks. We were gone within the hour.

Since she’d yet to check into her motel, we drove there in our separate cars. Finding a line at the registration desk, we headed for the bar instead. A barn would be a more apt description. Although it served alcohol, its wide-open spaces and western décor were a far cry from the intimate setting I’d hoped for.

It turned out she was a beer drinker. We had that in common, but what other interests might this stranger in tight pants share? I found out very quickly. Before we were done pounding down our second brew, I learned that she and her husband had been sleeping in separate bedrooms for the past several months. Our conversation also revealed that, although she didn’t like it at first, she’d learned to enjoy giving head. Where had that come from? Since the topic had been volunteered by her without coercion from me, it reinforced my speculation that the lady was hot to trot.

She started pushing to find a restaurant, but I had other ideas. Wanting to steer her apparently hot pants to the privacy of her room, I talked her into checking in and dumping her luggage and toy purchases in her room before we ate. We drove our respective vehicles around the parking lot looking for her room. When we found it, I commented that the place looked familiar; that I’d been here the previous afternoon for room action.

“Room action,” she said, laughing. “What on Earth is that?”

“Well, before the toy show opens, I guess it’s traditional for the sellers to open their motel rooms to one another and display and sell toys in advance of the show. It’s where most of the truly rare toys are exchanged. They call it room action.”

She was still laughing when she opened her room’s door. “Hey! Was there any ‘room action’ in here?”

Nervous small talk ensued as she unpacked. Pretty soon all was in its proper place and any excuse for remaining in her room now exhausted. If I was going to initiate something, it was now or never.
She must have sensed the same thing. We locked eyes, staring at one another, prompting me to walk over, pull her close, and kiss her. She leaned into me, pressing her body to mine as our tongues began to duel. I slid my arms down her backside, and cupping an ass cheek with either hand, squeezed. She responded by pressing her abdomen into my groin.

I backed us to the nearest wall. Leaning against it for balance, I pressed her closer, massaging her ass for what must have been a full two minutes. My cock swelled to fullness. I backed her toward the bed, our lips still locked, my hands still fondling her ass.

When she felt the press of the bed against the back of her legs, she broke the kiss, scooted onto the bed, and lay back, legs parted, looking up at me. It was all the invitation I needed. I crawled across the mattress and very pointedly pressed my erection into her Mons; lay down on top of her; and proceeded to dry hump her as we renewed our kissing. Sighing, she pulled my face closer.

After a bit I rolled to my back, pulling her on top of me as I positioned her clit atop my bulging cock. My hands crawled up her backside and found the bare flesh of her lower back. I’d forgotten about her open mid-drift. My hands continued up and under her blouse as I began a sensual back rub. She, in turn, ground her crotch into my erection.

I consider seduction to be an art; one requiring planning and cunning. In keeping with an overall strategy that stated once you reached one plateau, you should immediately pursue the next one, I fumbled with her bra clasp.

“Hey!” she said, “You can’t do that.” But by the time the words were out of her mouth the strap was opened and I was stroking my hands up and down her newly bared back, hopefully heating up her engine.

At first, she did nothing, but then surprised me by pushing her upper torso off the bed, resting herself on locked elbows while keeping us connected at the groin. Her dangling bodice with its unhooked bra provided a tantalizing view. “Why did you do that?” she asked, giving me a questioning look.

It was do-or-die time. Instead of answering, I lifted her blouse, knowing my actions would either end this budding liaison immediately or we’d be off and running. Raising both shirt and bra high enough to expose one small breast, I kissed her nipple.

She remained motionless above me, neither assisting nor resisting. After a few pecks, I sucked her tit into my mouth. After nibbling her flesh, I slid her tit out of my mouth until all I had captured was her nipple. Biting gently and flicking my tongue, I tickled its tip. She arched it toward me. “Yes, do it like that,” came a contented whisper.

Approval!

I worked that bud to full erection, then pulled back to lift the other side of her blouse. Without further coaxing from me, she brought her other breast to my waiting mouth. We’d moved to the next level.

Soon that nipple was as engorged and swollen as the first had been. Time to up the ante.
I sat up and tugged her top piece and bra up and over her head. She raised her arms, helping me remove them. Throwing them onto the floor, I shed my own shirt and tossed it away, too. “Yes, get those out of the way,” she purred as we lay back down, our bared chests caressing each other.

After a brief ass massage, I rolled her onto her back and resumed suckling her tits. I slid a hand enticingly down her tummy and over her pants to her parted legs. Finding her pussy, I stroked it, applying pressure as I did it. Her hips rose and fell, keeping time with my fondling.

This continued for a bit before she suddenly sat up. “Sorry, I have to pee,” she blurted.

I couldn’t help but wonder which had taken the greatest toll on her bladder, the three beers she’d consumed, or the pressure of my intimate massage.

She scooted down my body, her eyes devouring my half-naked body as she crawled to the bottom of the bed. She started for the bathroom, but suddenly stopped and spun back around. “Stay right there! Don’t go anywhere! Don’t you DARE!”

Right, like I would contemplate leaving. I looked down and saw a visibly hard and swollen bulge pointing down my pant leg. My jeans were stretched so tightly over my cock you could make out its contour in minute detail, right down to the fact that I’d been circumcised. It was a protrusion in desperate need of release.

Minutes later she returned, crawling up the bed, retracing her earlier route. She paused over my groin, staring. It didn’t require a crystal ball to fathom the object of her attention. Eventually, she continued up my body, but only until her face reached my chest. She stopped there, and ever so slowly began a retreat. She worked her way back down my body, swaying back and forth, caressing my chest with her nipples and cascading hair. “Does that hurt?” she asked.

How could such soft caresses hurt? It took me a second to figure out what she meant—her hip was pressed against my cock, copping a feel. Hardened, it was impervious to pain. “No, I’m fine,” I answered, hoping she’d investigate further.

And investigate further she did, scooting lower to the point her face once again hovered above my crotch. After a moment’s pause, she reached out and cupped my bulge. “This looks so nice,” she crooned, stroking her fingers along its length.

An instant later she was on her knees, unbuckling my belt. She undid my snap, unzipped my fly, and tried to pull down my pants, but my weight prevented it. I lifted a hip, fully prepared to let her tug them down my thighs, but she stopped after exposing only a few inches and switched to my other side. I lifted that hip, but as before, she ceased her efforts once she’d exposed my pubic hairs. Then, moving her jaw back and forth and licking her lips, she slid her hand inside my shorts, seeking and finding her prize.

A set of very cold fingers captured my cock and dragged it into view. Since my shorts still covered my pubic area, she’d only exposed its tip. Not to be denied, she tugged my elastic band down and out of the way, holding it there, laying bare her objective. Fingers tenderly enveloped it just below its head. She leaned down and ever so gently licked its tip; round and round; up and down. She looked up, watching me watch her, flashing a nasty, naughty look as her dancing tongue titillated my hypersensitive flesh. To say it felt fantastic would be a gross understatement indeed.

It didn’t require a genius IQ to determine my clothes were in the way. “Just a minute,” I said, regretfully pulling my cock from that tantalizing tongue. I ripped off my jeans, shorts and all, and tossed them to the floor, and lay back down, granting her unfettered access to my swollen erection.

With my cock now fully exposed, she caressed its length, bottom to top, top to bottom. After several gentle strokes she tightened her grip, lowered her mouth, and looking up at me, resumed her delicious licking, her slavering tongue exciting and delighting me no end.

As erotic as it was to see, I was lying flat on my back, forcing me to lift my head in order to watch her, kinking my neck in the process. I lay back and shut my eyes, savoring her delicious attentions.

After some infinitely wonderful duration she stopped. Oops! In my pleasure I’d forgotten about her needs. She must have felt abandoned as she sat up and announced in a dispassionate voice, “Let’s just cuddle for a while.” She moved up beside me and lay with her back to me.

Momentum was no longer in my favor. It was time to rectify that.

I scooted closer and pressed my bare cock into her ass. Draping one arm over her, I reached under her with the other. I gathered a nipple in either hand, gently twisting them as I kissed her between her shoulder blades. Within seconds I had her panting—the game once more afoot.

Once she was sufficiently aroused, my kisses drifted lower. I slowly worked my way down her spine, not only kissing, but teasing her with my tongue in much the same fashion she’d done to my cock moments earlier. Lower and lower I went, until I could no longer reach her breasts. Releasing them, I continued my downward journey. Things were out of kilter, however. Although I was naked save for my socks, she was bare only from the waist up. It was time to rectify that.

Finally, my lips reached the base of her spine and the point where her pants were in the way. I pulled the material away from her body, and licked as far down as I could, which wasn’t far. That was fine, since my true goal was to make it obvious that her clothing was in the way. This accomplished, I sat up, rolled her onto her back, and went to work on her snap and zipper. She offered no resistance as I slid her denims down her thighs, her gaze flitting from my erection to my eyes, and back down to what interested her most.

I could only tug those jeans so far though; those skin-tight pants would never slide over her cowgirl boots. I took hold of a foot and tugged, but instead of coming off, her entire body slid toward me. “How do I get these things off?” I asked.

She pointed to her toe. “You’re doing it right. Just keep pulling.”

Grabbing a heel, I exerted far more effort than I would have dreamt necessary. Finally, it came off. The other boot was an equally arduous task, but eventually they were on the floor where they belonged.

I returned to her clothing. I lowered her jeans below her hips, but not her panties. She raised her hips so I could get them too, but I ignored her efforts, contenting myself with her pants. Soon she was naked save for a scanty red thong that covered so little of her pussy that pubic hairs protruded from either side.

I’ve always believed that the more erotic a sexual encounter, the more exciting and memorable it would be. I figure most women’s first sexual intimacy involves getting felt up in the back seat of a car, with some boy’s hand winding up inside her pants, finger fucking her. Since those early experiences were a woman’s first turn-ons, I figured they were likely her naughtiest memories; the ones most likely to excite.

I set about testing that theory. I kissed my way up her leg, all the while caressing her incredibly soft and supple thigh. Gently stroking, I made an excruciatingly slow and tantalizing journey toward her crotch. After what I hoped seemed an eternity for her, my hand finally found those oh-so-skimpy briefs. Leaving it in place, I slid up beside her and took a nipple into my mouth. Only then did I slide my hand inside her panties like those high school boys undoubtedly did so many years prior.

I went directly for her clit, rubbing and teasing it. I was surprised to find it dry. To rectify that problem, I slid my hand deeper, found her opening, and inserted a finger. She was drenched in there. Pulling out, I rubbed my moistened finger up and down her slit and returned for more lubrication. In no time her entire love canal was slick with her juices–clit included. I looked up. Her eyes were shut–lost in God knows what sort of fantasy.

Only after I was sure that I had her in la-la land, did I sit up and strip off those panties. Now stark naked, she lay watching in total submission, waiting for whatever would happen next.

Grabbing her behind each knee, I lifted her legs, pushing them up and out to the sides until her knees were perpendicular to her torso and pinned against them against the bedspread. Slipping my shoulders between her splayed thighs, I lowered my mouth.

Submission remained her mantra as she let me devour her sweet parts. There were no moans, no gyrations, just occasional sighs and limp acquiescence. My finger returned to her opening, stroking her depths as I chewed and licked her clit. In no time she was nothing but percolating hormones. Still, I worked her, pushing her need higher and higher.

Finally, confident she was mine to do with as I pleased, I knelt, my throbbing, rigid cock bouncing in front of me. Her eyes locked onto it as, walking on my knees, I inched ever so slowly toward her splayed and waiting pussy, letting her contemplate what we both knew was inevitable—that I was going fuck to her now.

After a half-dozen or so mini-steps on my knees, my cock hovered near her opening. She placed her hands on my chest. “No, Rob, we can’t,” but there was no push of hands or force behind those hollow words. She was mine for the taking and we both knew it.

I continued as if she hadn’t said a thing. Cock in hand, I touched it to her opening. Rotating it in circles, I applied pressure. Her vulva parted, allowing my tip inside. Her gaze fixated on my cock as I gradually applied pressure. Once the head was inside of her, her flesh succumbed, and her wet and heated femininity paid welcome to its latest visitor. Her head fell back with an audible gasp as my throbbing prick sank from sight, burying itself deep within her slickened love canal.

I pressed my lips to hers, but she twisted away, her need for romance apparently supplanted by more base desires.

I withdrew my tingling member from that delightful wetness until only the tip remained inside. Cocking my hips, I slammed back into her with as much force as possible, burying myself to the hilt.

I was rewarded with another gasp, louder even than the first had been.

Delighted by her reaction, I repeated my endeavor, pounding her over and over and over with slow, powerful, methodical thrusts, using all the force I could muster.

Eyes shut and mouth open, she greeted each plunge with a carnal moan and a toss of her head to one side. With each insertion she’d cry out and twist her face in the opposite direction. In and out; back and forth; each stroke evoking a new wail and a swivel of her head. It was a fantastical scene to behold.

I sat perched on my knees, savoring the sight of my plunging cock as it disappeared and reappeared, her clinging, distended labia bathing it with so much love juice that my cock now glistened with her sheen. There was a clock beside the bed. It read 3:30. I had met her for the first time just three hours earlier and here I was, my swollen member plowing her depths, giving her the fucking she’d obviously come here hoping to receive.

We’d hardly begun to screw when, face contorted in an erotic grimace, she scooted downward, arching her body from shoulder to heels. She couldn’t weigh more than a hundred or so pounds–barely half my size, yet she was lifting our combined weight several inches off of the bed, cumming like a banshee. I stopped pumping and buried by cock as deeply I could, holding it there as she continued what seemed an endless orgasm. Her pussy worked my cock over, squeezing it; milking it; her torso vibrating. Only a concentrated effort kept me from cumming with her. On it went, making me wonder if her climax would ever end. Body rigid, her tremors continued. I’d never seen a woman cum anywhere near that long, not to mention this hard or so quickly. Our extended foreplay clearly had her primed.

Finally, I drew back and started thrusting anew. This seemed to break the spell. She fell back to the bed, and tits arched in offering, stared at me through glazed eyes, lost in the rapture of our coital joust.

I pumped in; then out. Fast, then slow. Straight, then angled. It made no difference what I did, she simply moaned and sighed beneath me, eyes often shut, relishing the pummeling my unrelenting cock was giving her. Watching her, I began to wonder at her limits—assuming she had them. Would kinky appeal to her?

We were doing it missionary style when I broke our silence. “Gawd, fucking you feels great.” I had no idea how she would respond to “dirty talk” but intended to find out. I wanted to drive the level of eroticism through the roof if at all possible.

When she said nothing, I pressed. “Do you like having me fuck you?”

She opened her eyes. The look on her face told me I was treading grounds she’d never travelled. “Yes,” she finally whispered.

“Yes what?”

“It feels really good.”

“What does?”

She stared up at me, taking her time. “Having you fuck me.” Her use of profanity seemed to tear down some barrier. Her eyes bored into mine. “I can’t believe you can keep doing it so long without cumming. How do you do it?”

Frankly, I had no answer, but I was grateful for this timely exercise of self-control. This was one hell of a fuck that I wasn’t anxious to end.

Ultimately however, fatigue took its toll, not loss-of-control. It was time to cum. Relishing that prospect, I turned her onto her knees and entered her from behind. Ratcheting up my speed, I pounded her as hard and fast as I could, doggie-style.

She went wild. Clawing the sheet, wailing, she pushed herself back at me, her hips gyrating in circles, clearly as anxious as I was to experience what we both knew was imminent. I hoped she considered this the fucking of her lifetime, because it was definitely on my short list.

There was no way I could maintain this pace without cumming; besides, I’d forestalled that pleasure long enough, and let nature take its course. Blood engorged my cock, swelling it harder and fuller. A wonderful tingling rushed up and down its length. The feeling consumed me, and I was soon lost in the ecstasy of my ejaculation.

Grabbing her by the hips, I pulled her hard against me as I erupted. I stopped thrusting and pushed my cock as deeply as I could, pinning her to me, savoring the bliss of each ripple of cum as I emptied myself deep inside her pussy. Time stopped for me for those few seconds. I was in Nirvana as, mouth open and eyes closed, I convulsed over and over, divesting myself of my seed. She ground herself back at me, seemingly as eager to receive my offering as I was providing it.

Spent at last, I slowly extracted my deflating tool and lay beside her. As we caught our breath, I asked, “You ready for that dinner?”

“No way,” she said, “we’re not leaving this bed.”

Yes, way I mused as I thought about it. On this day, I may have been a cocksman supreme, but I wasn’t Superman. I needed a break. “I’m hungry. Let’s eat and come back later.” I winked. “After all, the night is still young.”

After driving around what seemed to be half of Pennsylvania, we found a restaurant and sat down to enjoy our meal over wine. A casual observer overhearing our conversation would hardly guess we’d only known one another for a few hours. What would really have stunned them was to learn we’d spent a good portion of that time fucking one another’s brains out.

The dinner conversation was mostly pattering—fun, friendly and unforced—just two people having dinner. There were only a couple of references to our earlier tryst. First off, she had accused me of obviously being very experienced—how else would I have known to do that kissing thing on her back to excite her? And yes, she thought talking dirty was a bit of a turn on, but would have chosen romantic over erotic had I asked.

Romantic? We were fucking, not dancing. Did she really expect romance from a one night stand? I kept my thoughts to myself, however. I had often heard that men and women had been exchanging sex for affection for centuries—apparently nothing had changed.

Dinner done, we headed back to her room. Seconds after our coats were discarded and we were back on the bed. “Are you going to wear those?” I asked, nodding toward her pants.

“Do you want them off?”

Without waiting for an answer she sat up. Seconds later every stitch of clothing she had on was somewhere on the floor and she was back in my arms, her tongue probing my mouth. Romance hell, this lady was raring to go. This wasn’t going to be about seduction; that game had ended earlier in the evening. Its rules were: I push; you resist, then you ultimately relent, and we both get what we want.

Fevered kissing, hugging, fondling and petting soon had her flesh all hot and rosy. Tryst number two had hardly begun when she sat up, stripped off my shirt, jerked down my pants, and tossed them across the room. Feigned resistance would clearly play no part in this go-around; nor would coy.

I don’t know which happened first, my clothing hitting the carpet or her gullet engulfing my cock. Her former snakey-licky ministrations gave way to the lady who confessed that she had learned to love sucking cocks. She sat straddling my legs, her head bouncing up and down in a furious, all out oral assault. Lust was apparently giving romance a run for its money.

The energy required from all that bobbing eventually took its toll. She scooted up my body, nestling one very drenched slit atop my erection. With the object of her attention in place, rocking back and forth, she began masturbating herself on my swollen prick. I simply lay there, delighted by her passion.

She humped me with frenzied pace for maybe a minute; then panting, rose to her knees, reached for my cock, and positioned it at her opening. A twist and bend of its head had it cradled in her hole. She sank her weight, her overly lubricated tunnel instantly consuming me.

Having a woman do the fucking instead of the other way around is a delightful experience. Up and down she bounced, riding my cock cowgirl style. Her sagging weight gave added thrust, pushing me deep inside of her. Her muscles gripped me, squeezing and releasing while serenading me with a duet of lustful pants and the salacious slurps and squishes her love canal was making. Up and down she rode, fucking me like crazy.

I pushed up to meet each downward thrust, thinking each time I plumbed her depths that life could be no better. But as men know—and women learn—being on top takes stamina, a currency she had just about exhausted. Spent, she finally stopped and fell forward onto my chest, her breathing labored; my member still deeply embedded inside of her.

Grabbing her ass cheeks, I pulled her forward, overbalancing her. I released her weight and she fell back onto my cock, burying it to the hilt. I repeated the move. It took little effort and seemed to work very well. Back and forth she rocked, once again riding my erection—this time with help from me. We had discovered an ingenious new way to fuck. After a bit she said, “I’ve never done it this way before.” Neither had I, but I said nothing, fearing I’d spoil my newly achieved “experienced lover” persona.

This went on a while before we shifted to missionary style–then doggie style, and any other style we could think of. It made no difference, we were here to fuck each other and argue later about which of us enjoyed it most. My acquiescent sex slave of the early evening had been supplanted by a sex-starved no-holds-barred nymphomaniac. I’m sure one scenario is probably better than the other, but I chose to forego any such difficult decisions to another day–or year–or century. All that counted now was the joy of the rut.

I’m unsure of how long we spent using one another’s bodies, but ultimately, she won our battle of attrition—I needed to cum. Women have that unfair advantage in this area in that their number of orgasms is limited only by the circumstance, where, men–at least those forty and over–are limited to a finite number of climaxes. I was pretty sure this would be my last for the evening.

Pulling her to her knees, I took her from behind for the evening’s coup de grâce. She willingly complied, eagerly meeting my every thrust. I pushed into frenzied warp drive like I had done earlier in the evening as we both raced toward one last moaning, churning, and mutually cum-spewing orgasm. Our second exchange of body fluids proved no less marvelous than its predecessor.

Exhausted, I lay down beside her, spent; consummated; fulfilled. Finite! Never had I savored an after-dinner delicacy more.

We made small talk for a while, but I finally told her I needed to leave, that I had to be up early for the final day of the show. She proposed that we meet again the following night.

“Sorry, my return flight leaves in the afternoon.”

“Change it!” she demanded.

“It would cost me an arm and a leg to change flights at this late date, assuming I even could.” I felt it prudent not to mention a lady friend was picking up at the airport. That sort of explanation would ruin romantic AND erotic.

“Fine!” came her petulant response. “I’ll fuck someone else tomorrow night!”

Wow, where had that one come from? Despite her emboldened language and the lack of restraint she’d shown in giving her body, I was pretty sure she hadn’t done this sort of thing all that many times. This was rejection talking–or disappointment. “If that’s what you want, suit yourself. It’s not my place to say anything or pass judgment.”

“In that case I’ll see how many I can fuck!”

The cliché ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’ came to mind, but I was hardly scorning her. I fact, I would have loved to share her bed another evening, but this was, in fact, a one night stand; how could she not realize that?

She’d calmed before I left and we parted on good terms, all things considered.

She showed up at the toy show the next day, this time dressed dress and blouse, as in business attire. “I thought it best not show up as Toy Slut two days in a row,” she quipped.

I laughed inwardly, thinking back to how clever I’d once thought myself at having seduced her. Magnificent persuasion on my part it was. Sure, who else could possibly seduce a Toy Slut?

Quite some time later she returned to my table with another armful of toys, asking me to once again carry them. “I meant what I said about finding someone to fuck,” she said as we reached her car, as if that would somehow change my mind about heading home this day. I’d hoped we’d put that conversation to rest, but clearly, we hadn’t. I dumped her toys in her trunk and walked to and opened her driver’s door. “Hop in and drive us to the back of the parking lot.”

She gave me a puzzled look but nonetheless did as I requested. “OK, we’re here,” she said, reaching the proscribed location, “now what?”

I got out, walked around the car, and opened her door. “Out.”

“Where are we going?” she asked, taking my hand as I helped her out of the car.

I opened the back door. “Climb in.” Looking suspicious, she nonetheless did as told. “Scoot over, please,” I said, sliding into the seat beside her. Closing the door, I unbuckled my belt and slid down my pants.

“All right, what the hell is going on?” she asked, eying my rising cock.

“Yesterday you said you’d grown to love giving head, and since you’ve made no bones about wanting more sex, I thought I’d give you the opportunity to prove it.”

“What, you blow me off,” she said, her eyes never leaving my growing erection, “and then expect me to blow you in return?” she asked in disbelief.

“Expect? Hardly, I’m simply affording you the opportunity to relieve your frustrations.”

Her gaze had yet to abandon my cock. “I’d need to be in the right mood to enjoy doing something like that, and I assure you, I’m not.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, dragging her hand to my cock. Gripping it, her eyes glazed over, taking on that same hungry look I’d seen in them the day before.

Taking a deep breath, her fingers tightened their grip. “Yes, absolutely sure,” she said, her gaze never leaving my expanding cock.

Since her actions clearly belied her words, I placed my hand on the back of her head. “What if I told you I don’t believe you?” I challenged, lowering her face to my lap.

True to my conjecture, her mouth opened, consuming my erection without a moment’s hesitation. Taking all of me in on that very first swallow, her head began to bob. Shifting to the floor, she positioned herself between my outstretched thighs and began an all-out oral assault on my cock. She’d come to this toy show in search of strange cock—likely mine—and now seemed hell-bent on maximizing this one last opportunity to savor the fruits of that search.

The zipper at the back of her dress was plainly visible. “Why don’t we get you out of your dress before we wrinkle it,” I suggested, sliding down her zipper.

Lifting her head, she allowed me to slip it up and off her shoulders. She took it from me, and after removing her bra, carefully draping each over the front seat, twisted back around and began stroking my cock. “Doing this doesn’t mean I still won’t pick up some other guy later tonight.” She lowered her mouth, and looked up, “Think about this as you head home on your plane: while you contented yourself with a blow job, some other guy will get to fuck my pussy.”

All chatter ceased as she once again devoured my cock. Up and down, she bobbed, stopping every so often to press own really, really hard, gobbling my cock in its entirety.

After a bit she lifted her mouth away. Gripping it with her hand, she licked her way around my cock as if it were a Popsicle at risk of melting. She looked up, and eyes twinkling, tongue-teased my tip. “Did I ever tell you how much I love sucking a good hard cock—getting it so excited it so helplessly excited that it cums in my mouth?” She probed my slit with her tongue, winking. “But since you’ve yet to do that, I’d best get back to my work.”

Maybe she did this sort of thing more often than I first thought.

Her hand remained in place as she took me back into her mouth, her hand pumping in unison with her bobbing head—faster and faster, deeper and deeper, each lunge accompanied by a carnal growl. It took me a moment to realize that growl was coming from me, not her.

Her message was clear—I was to fill her mouth; as erotic a request as one could ever hope to hear. I began thrusting, meeting her downward plunges. My efforts quickened, evoking a smug giggle as it became obvious just how close she was to achieving her goal.

Unable to resist her oral mastery any longer, my hips rose off the seat. I plunged my cock deep into her mouth, and holding it there, exploded. Her giggle morphed into a purr as I erupted into her mouth. Her jaw clamped down on my cock, locking it in place. Over and over I spurted into her gullet, her squeezing cheeks milking my each and every drop. She continued to suck on it long after I was done, her tongue probing my slit as if to confirm I wasn’t holding out on her. Only after I started to grow limp did she finally remove her mouth.

She sat up. “See,” she said, sticking out her cum-coated tongue, “I told you you’d cum in my mouth while someone else does it in my pussy,” she smugly announced.

“Who said it’s an either/or situation?” I challenged her, pushing her onto her back.

She stared up at me, limp and acquiescent as I removed what little remained of her clothing. I positioned myself between her open thighs, the prospect of fucking her one last time revitalizing my erection. She gasped as I slid my swelling penis into what by now was one very wet and slippery pussy. Hungry, squeezing muscles gripped it, coaxing it back to fullness. “Now for that fucking you claim you’re so desperate for—the one we both knew would happen when you drove us to the back of this parking lot.”

A passer-by might have wondered at the woman’s business suit so neatly draped over the front seat. Were that person to have peered through the window he or she would have seen bra and panties and a pair of men’s jeans crumpled in a heap below it with a man nestled between the dress-owner’s legs. Would have watched enthralled as that man slid his stiffened cock in and out of her willing moistness. What that onlooker wouldn’t have known was that the man was doing the woman a favor. After all, it made no sense to force her to search around for some guy to fuck her later that night when she a ready and willing candidate right there in there in her car, straddling her outstretched thighs, doing his all to fulfill that need right now.

I enjoyed our goodbye fuck every bit as much as the two we’d shared the night before, and judging from Kim’s boisterous response, so did she. I can’t tell you how much I look forward to next year’s toy show, hoping she’ll be there, still pissed enough at me that I’m forced to break down her resistance; that I’m forced to once again partake in the game of seduction that the two of us so enjoy, knowing full well what the final outcome will be.