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In Chapter 1 (in Exhibitionist and Voyeur) we met Nancy, the Slut of Brown County. She had become an infamous slut due to some experimental meds she took for depression. She left Indiana to move to New York, became a registered nurse, and went to Washington, DC for the women’s march where she has met a seemingly nice man named Mike.
I had deliberately stranded myself in DC (I live and work in New York), and I had met this nice, somewhat older man Mike. We hit it off right away, and this man had definite boyfriend potential. I wanted to play my cards right with him.
The doctors back home in Indiana had given me different meds that were not experimental. My depression lessened and eventually disappeared. The memory however of all that sexual activity remains, and as a consequence, I know a lot more than your typical Indiana small town women do about men, and about sex with men.
I know what men like, what they want, and how perverted some of them can be. And I know how to please them. You could say I had an intensive, crash course in the subject. It’s why I moved out of Indiana. Bizarrely, New York was a saner place for me just then than was Brown County, in Southern Indiana.
The point is I could easily see in Mike’s eyes that he was interested in me. That is to say, he was interested in me sexually. The occasional remark, the occasional glance at my boobs and how they pushed out my tight sweater, the positive reactions to my smiles, with knowing looks. Well, I guess this is a good thing, right? One wants to be desired.
Thus, when Mike suggested we go for coffee, I accepted happily. He took me to a local coffee house. He explained it is usually quiet on a Sunday, but today it was bustling due to the 600,000 or so women (and around 100,000 men) who had come to town for the women’s march. We had to wait for a table but eventually we got to sit, drink coffee, and talk.
I had not intended to do so, but I ended up telling him about the love of my life Bill, and how I had lost him to someone’s gun in a bar, and how I had sunk into a deep depression when he was gone.
I carefully omitted the part where I had become known as “Nancy, the Slut of Brown County,” during my drug induced promiscuous period. It was due to this reputation, and the consequent near constant attempts of men to get into my pants, that I fled, and ended up moving to New York.
However, when Mike learned I was from Brown County, Indiana, he told me he grew up in the romantically named Tippecanoe County, in northern Indiana. (Brown County is in the south, which has rolling hills, while the north of Indiana is as flat as a pancake. Tippecanoe County has the Wabash River, and the river valley has a few hills. The hills by the river can be beautiful, especially when the leaves change in the fall. But otherwise northern Indiana is flat, flat, flat.)
After those revelations, we had a great time discussing how we both missed Indiana. We also talked about what aspects of it we did not miss. I figured the men from northern Indiana would like busty women. They had enough flatness from the landscape. I was busty, so my inference was a bit self-serving. But a girl does what she needs to do to feel attractive.
I began to feel close to him. After we had talked for a good two hours, and I was lost in his eyes, he asked if I had plans for dinner.
“I have no plans. None at all,” I said, and then I told him about the bus, and my impetuous decision to remain in DC. I also explained I had this friend I had tried to contact, but so far, she had not answered me, which made me a tad nervous.
Mike thought it would be nice if I could join him for dinner. I had been planning to eat a sandwich I had packed for the return bus trip, but since I was invited out, well, that sounded better. “I have no nice clothes to change into, Mike,” I said. Mike was wearing a suit and tie, and that was on a weekend afternoon. So I knew how he dressed!
“Not a problem, Nancy. You’re so pretty I would be proud to take you anywhere,” he said.
“Thank you. Still, I’d be more comfortable in a skirt,” I said, “and also nice shoes.”
We agreed to meet at his hotel at 7pm, and I quickly went hunting for some clothing stores in DC that were open on Sunday afternoon. Happily, I found what I needed, and my luck continued because some of the stuff was on sale! I wore the clothes right out of the store. Next I shopped for shoes. My old clothes were in the store’s shopping bag.
I had bought and now wore a rather short skirt, but not too short, that showed off my legs. I have nice legs. For my top, the choices were limited, but I chose a sheer sweater with a zip up the front. My royal blue lacy bra shone through the sweater, although you could not see any details. With the zip, I had the option of unzipping it as much as I dared. That would give Mike something to look at as he sat across from me at dinner. Perfect.
I was hoping maltepe escort he would be fantasizing that he was ripping down the zipper and ravishing my boobs, even if I would be horrified were that to happen. Fantasy and reality sometimes diverge wildly with me. I am not sure why, but I wanted Mike to lust for me, to want me. The jury was out on whether or not I actually wanted him: It was much too early to tell. But that did not stop me from wanting him to ache to have me, to ravish me.
I hope you understand: I was just a girl wanting to be desired. I was not a girl wanting to have sex. I just wanted to go out with a good-looking guy and have him captivated. I wanted to get lost in his eyes, and especially for him to get lost in mine.
I got some makeup and a new lipstick. I bought a new perfume. I did not want a scent that might get a man aroused, like Opium by YSL, so I opted for one of the new scents by Givenchy. It’s delicious more than it is sexy.
I got some gorgeous new shoes. The shoes had a slightly less than two-inch heel and were a beautiful shade of red leather. The red of my new lipstick was chosen to match the shoes. Modesty aside, I looked good.
The final touch was to find one of those hair salons that give your hair a wash and blow dry. This was not New York, so I did not know if one would be open late on Sunday, but happily one was! They did a nice job, and I no longer needed a ponytail.
My hair cascaded down my shoulders, falling lightly with subtle curves and waves. My hair framed my face, and my makeup accented my blue eyes. My eyes are not just blue: they are sort of a glistening light blue, in the words of my dear departed husband.
My deceased husband had loved my eyes. I miss him so. But life goes on, I told myself. Going to dinner with a man is no big deal. I like to think Bill would have approved. He would not have; I know that. I just like to think that he would have.
The big time came. We were to meet in the lobby of his hotel, The Kimpton Carlyle, near Dupont Circle. Being new to DC, I went to Google Maps and discovered I was not even close to it. I found a taxi and grabbed it; otherwise I would have been late.
I am not sure what Mike expected, but he did not recognize me, all dolled up and no longer sporting a ponytail. Men are like that: A woman changes her hair and it is like entering a witness protection program, as far as men are concerned. Mike looked around the lobby, did not realize who I was, and sat in an armchair. He grabbed an old newspaper that had been discarded and pretended to read.
I used my ‘disguise’ to ask the hotel if by chance they had a room. They did not. I checked my phone for the umpteenth time to see if my friend had replied, but she still had not. I may end up sleeping in a park, I thought. That idea seemed a bit scary.
I slipped outside, and then re-entered the lobby. I pretended to look around, and I ‘found’ an empty armchair next to Mike. I asked him, “Is this seat taken?”
Mike replied, “I’m sorry Miss, I’m saving that chair for….Oh my God, Nancy, is that you?”
I smiled at him. “Well, we’re going to dinner, aren’t we?”
He said, in all simplicity, “Wow,” as he stood for me. He added, “God, yes.”
As we left the hotel, I donned my pink pussy hat, the one I had bought from a pop up vendor for $20 and that I marched in. I figured I was still in DC and it seemed the right thing to do. Mike liked it; he said I look cute in it.
Mike took me to the fanciest restaurant I had ever been in. The food was the best I had ever had, too. I could not imagine (and did not want to imagine) the size of the check. I know you’re supposed to like the man, not the money he spends, but boy, this was nice.
It’s all messed up, but I felt valued and important because Mike was spending a lot of money on me. I wanted to please him. Well, within reason, of course.
I excused myself, and I went to the bathroom. My sweater was zipped up to my neck. I unzipped it a bit. Another woman was in the bathroom with me. “Honey, give your man a treat. Zip that sucker down.” The woman had an accent from the deep south. She had a thick drawl.
“How far?” I asked her.
“Here, honey, allow me,” she said, and she zipped down the zipper way farther than I thought appropriate. My peace sign pendant dangled between my boobs, encased in my blue lace bra. Now everyone could see it. I zipped it up a bit, and the woman yelled, “No!” and she zipped it down even farther.
“I’ve got an idea honey. If you want him eating out of your hand, or perhaps eating you out (and she giggled), lose the bra! God, men love that. Do it, and he’s yours,” she said.
“If I do that, then I’m zipping up,” I said. “Decide what you want from me.”
“Honey, I don’t want nothing. I’m just trying to help. I’m a good Samaritan.” Her breath smelled of a martini or two. Perhaps three. Followed by white wine. I can’t really tell all that pendik escort by smell, of course, but that is what it felt like just then. The honey woman was drunk.
I removed her my bra with a bit of drama, and then stuffed it into my purse. I zipped back up. She zipped me back down. “Now listen, honey,” she said. “When the time is right, and your man is beginning to drool, lean forward and whisper. If you’re lucky, and if he is a normal man, he will look down your blouse and get a free peek of your glorious boobs. And honey, they are glorious. Very glorious.”
I returned from the bathroom with my bra in my purse, and my zipper zipped down, way too far for polite society. I brought the woman from the powder room (Billie Jean) with me, and introduced her to Mike. Mike was puzzled. After all, who makes friends in the restaurant women’s room?
Billie Jean went back to her table. I sat down. Mike was staring no longer at my eyes, but at my braless boobs. I beckoned him closer. I leaned forward to whisper. I knew he had a great view of my boobs, nipples and all, and I smiled as he took it. I whispered to him, “Billie Jean talked me into removing my bra and unzipping for you. I hope you like it.”
“Jesus, Nancy, you have spectacular boobs. They are beautiful. I love them.”
The dinner conversation got very sexy after that. When Mike had paid the check and had treated me to dinner, he offered to take me to where I was staying. I checked my phone; still no reply from my friend. I had sent her already five messages, so I figured it was pointless to send her another. I decided to lie. I said, “Amazingly, I am planning to stay at the same hotel as you.”
Mike was pleased, and we walked back to the hotel. While we were walking, he held my hand. I idly wondered if Billie Jean worked on commission. If so, I owed her, big time. When we got to the hotel, he proposed to walk me to my room. Very gallant, unless he had a hidden agenda.
I was backed into a corner, and I had to confess I had nowhere to spend the night. I hoped he did not think I was a tramp and this was an attempt to come on to him. But anyway, he did the obvious thing; He offered to share his room with me. Before I accepted, I checked my phone one more time.
Thank God, there was a message from my friend. She was on holiday in Bali, of all places, but she said I could use her apartment. She wrote, “The key is in the usual place. You know what I mean.” I did, too. She always leaves a spare key hidden in a certain way. I explained this to Mike, and he insisted on taking me there.
We grabbed a cab, and Mike and I went to my friend’s apartment. Of course, I invited him in. He plopped down on the couch, and I put on some soft music. I hunted around Grace’s kitchen, looking for something to offer him. “Chocolates and cognac, Mike?” I asked.
I gave him a glass and a small plate of chocolates, and sat down in the armchair. “I am so glad my friend Grace came through. No offense, Mike, but I met you only today and am not ready to share a hotel room with you. I am not sure I could have maintained my virtue all night in the same bedroom as you.”
Mike smiled, mischievously.
“Well,” I added, “Actually, I’m sure I could have done it. It just would have been a struggle.”
“I understand, Nancy. But rest assured I would have been a perfect gentleman,” Mike said.
“Even if I have these?” I asked, as I leaned forward so that Mike could once again feast his eyes on my luscious boobs.
“God, you have gorgeous boobs, my lady. And yes, they are tempting. I may well have given into temptation. Come sit here next to me, and I’ll show you,” Mike said, a gleam in his eye.
“You’ll show me how you’re a gentleman?” I said, as I rose from the armchair and began to walk over to the couch.
“Absolutely,” Mike said.
I sat next to him, and he waited two full seconds before leaning over and kissing me gently. I kissed back, and we kissed for a long time, at least 10 solid minutes. The kisses got more intense, we opened our mouths, and our tongues became the best of friends. We finally came up for air.
Mike leaned back, he looked at me, and I lost myself in his eyes, as I felt his hands unzipping my sweater. Damn. A minute later I was naked above the waist, and Mike was enjoying my boobs to the max. My breathing got heavy. It was not from any erotic stimulation of my boobs, although lord knows Mike was trying, it was just from Mike lusting for me so strongly.
I needed that; I realized I had been lonely since moving to New York. After a while Mike started on my skirt. I told him no. I reminded him that we had met only earlier the same day, and I was not that kind of girl. He apologized, and then he offered me a ride back to New York. He was returning to the city in the morning.
I said yes, and he told me he would pick me up at 10am. “Come at 9:30, then, and enjoy my boobs for a while before we get on the road, okay?” Mike gave ümraniye escort me a broad smile, and I smiled back.
After Mike left, I was very horny, but I was proud of myself for making Mike wait before I gave him my body to do with as he pleased. I undressed and found a man’s T shirt in my college friend’s bureau. I smiled to myself (good for her, I thought) and decided it could work as my nightgown.
I was watching TV, having lecherous thoughts, when the doorbell rang. It was 11pm. Who comes calling at 11pm? I went to the door. It was a man who lives next door. His heat went out, and he wondered if he could spend the night in Alessandra’s apartment? He explained they had an arrangement for such eventualities. I said of course, and I made up the bed in the guest room for him. Any Hoosier would have done the same for a neighbor. His name was Diego, and he was Brazilian.
He came in to help me, and I guess when I was leaning over, making the bed, my T shirt rode up exposing my naked ass. Diego came over and stroked my ass. I froze. “I said you could stay; I did not say you could take liberties with me.”
“It’s the way you are dressed. You are a beautiful and sexy woman, Nancy. I’m sure no man can resist you. I’m a man,” Diego said.
“Yes, I’ve noticed,” I said.
“You are right of course to want me to ask for your permission. Since I am captivated by your beauty, may I kiss you, my sweet woman?” Diego said.
I have a weakness for flattery. I am vain and insecure, a deadly combination. I wanted more flattery, and I said, “Why do you think I am pretty?” I mentally slapped myself, because I sounded vulnerable as I said that.
“Pretty describes you all right, but beautiful is more appropriate in your case. Well, let’s see. It starts with your face. Your high cheekbones, the amazing blue of your eyes, your pouty lips, and the way your blonde hair frames your face; it all combines to make you look spectacular.
“Your body is perfection itself. You are fine boned and fragile, giving a soft, vulnerable, and highly feminine appearance. You’re thin, but not too thin, and your boobs are just the size I like. Your ass is smooth and soft and has a perfect curve to it.
“But mostly it’s your eyes. I look into your eyes, and I can see your soul. You are a sweet woman, without a mean bone in your body. You like to please people, to make them happy,” and Diego paused.
I was overwhelmed. He had seen all that, and was able to articulate it, in just the 20 minutes or so we had known each other? Nobody had ever spoken to me like that. Impulsively, I said, “Diego, you can kiss me. You can kiss me as much as you want, for as long as you want.”
I did not have to tell Diego twice. He reached for me and pulled me to him. My back was to the bed I had just made up for him. He kissed me gently, softly, sweetly. I kissed him back. Our mouths opened, and our tongues found each other. I was getting aroused, and so apparently was Diego as he pushed his hard cock against my tummy.
I don’t know for how long we kissed, but it was at least five minutes. I wanted to go a little farther with him, so I began to moan while he kissed me. I put my arms around his neck and next I ran my hands through his hair. In return his hands went to my ass, and he pushed me harder against his cock.
We continued to kiss and his hands went under my T shirt, caressing my naked ass. His right hand scooted around to the front and went up the front of my body, raising my T shirt as it went north. He pushed the T shirt up over my boobs, and then he broke the kiss to whisper, “Please raise your arms, Nancy.”
I raised my arms and he lifted my T shirt up and off me. I was now naked. We resumed kissing. Having succeeded to get me naked, he did not try anything further for a while, but then the big moment came: His fingers went to my snatch. At this point I was too turned on to resist, and he quickly realized he had free reign over my body.
I leaned back and fell on the bed. My knees were bent, my feet on the floor, my torso resting on the bed. Diego knelt down, he gently spread my legs, and he licked my pussy. I groaned. This encouraged him. He began to lick the sides of my pussy, going up and down my labia with his tongue.
Diego ate me out. It felt like heaven. Just as I thought it could not get better, he stuck one finger in me, then two, and then three. He kept licking me as he did this. I had not had any kind of sex since I moved to New York, and I was too horny to resist anything just then.
Diego picked me up. He gently lay me on the bed. I said, “I’m on the pill.” Diego smiled. He climbed on top of me. He did not know my Indiana nick name of “wet and ready,” but boy, did that describe me! He entered me slowly, gingerly, as if he were waiting for me to protest, or to scream.
To let him know my attitude about him fucking me just then, I moaned. It did occur to me during my lust induced state, that a strange man knocked on the door of my friend’s apartment, and within 30 minutes of knowing him, I was giving the green light to let him take me. Could I be a bigger slut? Was this displaced lust for Mike? Was it general horniness? Was I simply nuts? Well it did not matter just then, because it was wonderful.
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