Whimsical Stranger

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Source: Whimsical Stranger


Free Love: Uncomplicated (explicit)

Sexy readers, I’d like to introduce a new series of shorts available here on the blog…sometimes these will be brand-new nibbles from the #chocprompt hashtag on my Twitter feed..sometimes they’ll be works that have pulled the covers over their heads for awhile but I’ve convinced them to let us play with them…enjoy this opportunity for free love… 


The waitress wore a t-shirt that was too tight, but I bet that’s how she got the tips.  That, and the fact that she hustled faster that the other girls at the Vertan.

“So, Amie,” I had seen her name tag bouncing just above the overly restrained left breast, “What’s good in here tonight?”

She looked at me with an expression that spoke volumes.  Was I kidding? Since the aptly, but confusingly, named Vertan had had its sign rearranged at least 15 years ago, the owner had never bothered to change it back or update the menu.  A Midwest grease-fest of burgers, deep-fried everything, and beer.  Bud, Coors, MGD and for the exotic drinking set, Sam Adams for the fancier among the patrons.  I didn’t recognize Amie (with an i-e), so she must have been new since my last stop at the Vertan a year before.  I was a regular, but only when my route took me into town.

“Just kidding, Amie.  Cheeseburger and a Sam Adams, please.  And yes, I’d like fries with that.”  She jotted down the order, still a little suspicious, and brought me the beer.  When she did, her professional tip-hustling smile was back in place, and so I took a chance.

“Well, the menu is pretty simple, but what is there to do in town tonight?  Besides all this, of course.” I gestured at the crowd of assorted pseudo-cowboys and miscellaneous blue collar studs crowding the green felt pool table and the bar.

“Well, we’re a pretty simple place,” said Amie with an i-e, a faint hint of home town defensiveness in her tone.  She was too old to be a recent cheerleader, but probably had been one ten years ago.  Panther Pride!  Or whatever mascot this little town had adopted to represent itself in those all-important high school status battles.  She went on, “So I guess there’s not a lot to do besides all this.”

“Well, what time do you get off, Amie with an i-e?” It seemed like she might be up for a bit of fun, if not terribly willing to do the flirting that would lead up to it, so I jumped straight to the question.

She snorted a laugh.  “I’m a pretty simple girl, too,” she pointed at my wedding ring, “And you seem—complicated.” Damn.  She was smart, too.  At least I had gotten the laugh.

I shrugged the rejection off.  “Can’t blame a guy for trying.  I’m just in town for the night and heading out tomorrow, figured I might make a friend.” I gave her a wink that was so obviously over the top that I got a genuine smile before she walked away, so maybe I hadn’t offended her too much.  She probably had to fend off much more than that from the locals on a regular basis.

I ended up staying for another beer after I finished my burger, and slowly Amie warmed up to me.  I also couldn’t help but notice that she stopped by a little more often than strictly necessary to check in on me and to exchange a few chit-chatty pleasantries.  It was as if, by knowing that I was leaving town, she wasn’t worried about gaining an admirer that would hang around and cause trouble.

And I was perfectly happy to go to bed alone.  Peyton, Inc. keeps us sales reps on the move, so I wouldn’t have a lot of time for pleasantries and courtship.  If I had a few nights to work on her, it might have worked out but as a salesman, I knew when to recognize that a prospect just wasn’t buying what I was selling.  With that pressure off both of us, the chatter was pleasant, she even asked where I was staying and mentioned that her younger brother worked at that hotel in maintenance on weekends (while he wasn’t at football practice for the Bulldogs, the Varsity squad of the high school football team, at least).  When I was finally paying the bill, I drew out the process to give her a chance to change her mind, but she just gave me a quick “Safe travels,” with a smile and a nod before turning back to her other customers.  I gave her a big enough tip to make her remember me the next time I was in town, and headed back to my hotel.

I got back to my room and wrote up a quick sales report for the head office, and threw on a pair of swim trunks to spend a quiet half hour in the indoor hot tub that was just across the hall.  I was later than the posted hours, but I had slipped the front desk a $20 to encode my key for later access so I would have it to myself whenever I wanted it.

It was a strange hot tub; a long oval with waist high walls that served as back rests once I had stepped into the pool.  There was room for a nearly a dozen people, so it felt luxurious to have the whole thing to myself.  One wall of the room was one-way glass that looked out over the small park that served as the town’s central square.

I laid back against the warm tiles with a sigh.  I love hot tubs, and this one, for all its odd shape, was a comfortable fit and seemed designed for stretching out and relaxing after a long day on a sales junket.  Peyton Inc. doesn’t spoil its field reps, but it doesn’t stint either, and I had stayed in far worse places in my career.  I wallowed in affordable luxury for a few minutes and let the steam soak into my lungs.

A faint coolness wafting across the back of my neck told me I wouldn’t have the place to myself forever.  The door behind the wall of the tub clicked shut behind whoever had come in, and I hear the quiet slap of bare-feet on damp concrete.  It was just one set of feet, so at least I wouldn’t have to be witness to drunken fumbling of some couple sneaking in from the hotel bar.  Unlikely, since it was after hours, but I’m sure that I wasn’t the only one willing to tip the front desk for some private hot tub time.

“Well,” said a voice, “This is interesting.”

Amie with an i-e stood at the steps that led down into the water, a bikini top replacing her earlier snug work t-shirt, and the pair of thin shorts hugging her ass made her look both relaxed and incredibly hot.

“I was just leaving,” I said, standing up.  I don’t mind being rejected, but I’m not about to hang out in a hot tub alone with a girl who already said no.

Amie slid into the water, taking a spot about 1/3 of the way around the oval, on the opposite side of the entry steps from where I sat.  It was far away enough for privacy, but not enough to be rude.  She was hedging her bets, in case I ever came back to town and was still a great tipper.  Small town business acumen in action.

“No need,” she said, “But whatever.”

I let myself sit down again, deciding a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.  And a few more minutes of the jets that had kicked back on would feel fantastic.  I relaxed and closed my eyes and let the water pound my glutes.

A hint of perfume whispered to me, and I opened my eyes to see that Amie had shifted positions.  I hadn’t heard her move, but she was now standing in front of me, breasts unrestrained by any kind of top and a new look in her eyes.

“You’re leaving tomorrow, right?” she asked, and I could see her making calculations in her head

“First thing,” I replied.


Then Amie with-an-i-e reached out under the water and I felt a tug as she pulled down my swim trunks and freed my cock.

The water jets seemed like a million hot tongues as they washed over my member, which stiffened as Amie drifted over to wrap her legs around me.  She smelled like cigarette smoke and Wal-Mart perfume, but her skin tasted like sweat and something else, something that sent fresh blood pulsing to my groin and I stiffened even further.  She pulled me closer so she could hold onto the hot tub wall behind me.  Her nipple was in my mouth, stiff and responsive as I teased it but when I kissed my way along her neck to taster her mouth, she stopped me.

“Let’s keep it simple,” she purred in my ear, then moaned softly as my cock brushed her swollen lips.  I hadn’t seen her take her clothes off, but she was completely naked under the water.

Then it was my turn to groan as a wickedly stiff tongue licked my earlobe, gently tickling the sensitive skin there, then I groaned again as she bit me, a sharply painful pleasure that sent shockwaves all the way down to my groin.  She bit harder, and shifted onto me so that I was suddenly inside her, drawn deep as she used the tub walls for leverage to grind down on me.

All the different sensations of heat and damp, from the steamy air to her slippery passage, almost overwhelmed me.  I wrapped my arms around her back, my hands gripping her just above her shoulder blades to keep us tightly connected.

Amie controlled everything, moving more quickly against me, breath hot in my still-stinging ear.  She gave a soft sound each time her hips thrust down and drove me deeper, the sounds growing faster along with her movement.  It gradually became one long, drawn out vibration that matched the tone of the jets that seemed to be pounding my backside in time with Amie’s rhythm.

She let go of the side of the pool and wrapped her arms around my neck, coiling even tighter to me in a final contraction that pulled me up into her salty flesh, burying my full length into her womb.

A whisper of pressure from the jets slipped along the cheeks of my backside, sending a jolt from my tight pucker to my brain.  As the water pushed into my constriction and invaded me, it triggered hot spasms that left me breathless, spilling the air from my lungs in a groan even as I spilled my seed into Amie’s hot passage.  She stiffened a second time around me, soft breath transforming into a sharp cry at this second wave of pleasure sweeping through her.

When the timer cut the jets off suddenly, we were left panting and spent, slowly disentangling ourselves in the languid heat of the water.

I started to say something, but Amie stopped me.

“Shh.  Keep it simple.”  She allowed me one kiss, her lips soft under mine at first but ultimately unyielding when I pushed for more.

“Have a safe trip,” she whispered, and the slap of her bare feet as she left was a clear, uncomplicated message to me, even as the faint hint of cheap perfume lingered, sending a different message entirely.


(note-this story originally appeared on http://www.everynighterotica.com)


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