Roller coaster Pt1

[Dev0nloch]

I have another story that might be worth retelling. This happened more than twenty years ago. The dialogue is as I remember it but paraphrased, if only because the participants are all still alive.
I’d had an occasional fling with a local girl for about two years. Jaqueline*, which I’d immediately corrupted to Jacobite because she loved her nipples to be gently bitten. Six foot tall, sensational body with pneumatic tits. 40FF sort of thing. At the time I couldn’t really figure what she saw in me until I realised she was looking for someone to marry. I’d already worked out that although she was a fantastic bedder she’d make a lousy wife. If I gave her a hundred bucks she spent a hundred bucks. One day in the car, on the way back from an afternoon in a hotel room, she asked in an innocent voice you might use to suggest stopping for chips on the way home, “Could you lend me $500?”
I knew I’d never see it again, didn’t even ask when she would pay it back. It wasn’t a huge amount of money to me and I liked the access. If I was effectively paying her, so what? In their own way all relationships are commercial. Some more explicitly than others. I stopped the car at an ATM and withdrew the money. Long term it was never going to work and we drifted apart without any rancour after I moved to the capital to work.
She found her sucker husband and settled down in a nice little apartment. Two kids and a cat, I heard. I didn’t have any contact from her again and I was busy, based hundreds of miles away and travelling a lot of the time.
Fully five years passed and I was back in my home town for Christmas where I’d kept my old apartment. I was having a siesta on Christmas Eve in preparation for what I hoped would be a long night when the phone next to the bed rang.
“Fancy lighting up with an old flame?” straight out from a voice I was starting to remember as I came to.
“Gosh, I’d love to,” I responded on auto-pilot. “Tell me more.”
“Well he’s working in the Middle East and not due back till mid January. Have you got any free time in the holidays?” she said coyly.
I was definitely up for it but I needed to do some thinking first. Part of my job is in risk management. I don’t take flyers. So I asked for her phone number and promised to call her on the day after Boxing Day. That would give me a couple of days to think it all through.
“Hear from you then maybe,” she purred in a way I remembered.
“You bet!” I lied because at this stage I was only keeping the door open.

In the sober parts of the next two days I did a sort of risk/reward analysis and decided I could probably keep the risks under control if I could see her first in innocent circumstances. The rewards needed no evaluation! This would let me look into the whites of her eyes and see if I was being set up as her out shot. Although she possesses a strong female logic and cunning she isn’t in the PhD bracket. If she had been she’d have made a fortune out of her gilt edged body, which I’d told her many times in our past. She had a top 5% superstructure. A girl you stop and stare at in the street without caring. Her legs were so long she could cross her calves under my arms and around my shoulder blades.
Over a couple of hours I would know if she was playing me because she wouldn’t be able to hold a strategy for that long. Something would slip. So I called her on 27th and arranged to meet her for coffee in the lounge of a big city centre hotel in the afternoon of 30th. Her folks would happily sit for her kids.

The hotel has a car park, which is just as well. I drove there, intending only to have coffee. Got there early to have a good look around. I didn’t want any guy back from the Middle East early putting my lights out. I didn’t spot anything that rang bells so I ordered two pots of coffee and the Times. It was a broadsheet paper in those days. I could sit in a corner and keep an eye on comings and goings.

I saw her stride in from the street. Blonde-ish, with roots. Fawn raincoat belted carelessly/carefully at the waist. Collar up. Burgundy scarf. Burgundy knee length boots. Wow. A picture. I put down the paper and waggled my fingers. It was the least I could do. She came over, sat down, not opposite me, at 90degrees, unbuttoned her coat and threw it open but didn’t take it off. Underneath was a burgundy and charcoal one piece, figure hugging body and skirt thing in Jersey wool. I don’t know what you call them. She was beautifully made up, not overdone. The give-away was matching burgundy lipstick. Girl on a mission. I instinctively knew she would have burgundy underwear. The jut of her tits made me laugh, it was nuts beautiful. She draped her scarf over them.

“What’s funny?” she said with a big smile.
“Nothing, it’s just great to see you.” I said as calmy as I could manage.
“You’re looking well!” she ventured. She always says this. She’d say it if you turned up in oily coveralls with half your teeth missing and the rest black.
“And so are you!” I replied. This time truthfully. She looked drop dead delicious. She had filled out a little. Maybe now 80 kilos. In her prime she’d have been around 75. But she was 1.8 metres tall. Not quite an Italian sports car but very much a coach built British limo.

So what have you been up to and how’s the capital, how old are kids now and what’s your cat called, remember when we went to watch the tennis, yeah he’s still brilliant, oh jeez that weekend we rented the chalet, are your folks still in the same house. The marriage was ok. Not exciting, just ok. He got into the Middle East and does a month at time, you know how it goes maybe a little flat now and again but no big deal… The trouble is you get used to being on your own for a month and then suddenly you’re married again. She has a lovely way of speaking. Posh we’d call it in our parts. In the course of it she removed her coat. The one-piece stretched around her hips.
On we went covering the old ground and then the new ground. I worked out from her that in a divorce she’d have to get a decent paycheck. So I wouldn’t be picking up the big tab. We laughed a lot. The coffee jugs emptied and I was going to order some more.

“Think we could maybe have some wine?” she asked, the very picture of innocence with a smile, all white teeth and big eyes.
“Well, I have the car…” I had started to demur when her chair scraped the floor. Girls have this thing. They put their weight on their feet without standing up and they shuffle a chair about with their ass. She rearranged it with a couple of flicks of her hips and suddenly she was sitting next to me. She put her hand on my knee. Then she ran her hand slowly up my thigh and back down. She put the hand back on my knee and then brushed it carelessly this way and that. Mummy make it better, sort of thing. There is just nothing like a beautiful girl.

“Could we not take some upstairs?” When she said this her eyes were smiling at me.
“Erm, ah, I’ve not actually booked anything. I didn’t want to presume.” I was blustering though.
“Could you?” She smiled again. She’s always smiling, it kills you.
“Let me see what I can arrange.” I stuck my tongue out at her. She genuinely giggled, wrinkling her nose.
I got out of my chair and went to the front desk. Because it was between Christmas and New Year they had about 200 rooms free. I took a family room for the space and they upgraded it to an exec. A gold card was a big deal in those days. These days the banks hand them out as promos. But they could have given me a whole floor and it wouldn’t have cost them a dime. The place was empty.

When I got back to the table she’d already taken delivery of a decent Chablis, an ice bucket and two glasses. She hadn’t forgotten how to spend somebody else’s money.
“Sorted,” was all I said.
“You OK?” she asked.
“Too early to tell.” I said with mischief, raising an eyebrow.
She giggled again. And snorted.

I got the bill. There was a bit of business putting the drinks on the room. I’d come in off the street and now I was running a tab. After the waiter came back from the front desk all was fine, you’re welcome sir, and we headed for the lifts with our wine and glasses, coats and scarves. But no luggage… I don’t care, I’m paying.

The room was big and not too bright with a picture window facing east over the park. Being winter the sun had gone, leaving a diffused twilight in the room. Soft shadows. It was finished in a sort of donkey beige with the usual fake mahogany to add no class. Best of all were two huge double beds about a metre apart, both covered in white fluffy duvets. Between the beds and the window there was still plenty space for a little dining table and two chairs got up in fake leather. I stay in hotels all the time. I wouldn’t want to live in this one for long but it was fit for purpose.

Whereas Jacobite was impressed. “Oh very swish!” She observed plumbing up some cushions. She bounced her ass off one of the beds a couple of times.
“Mmm, function and form,” with a snort.

I’d no intention of pouncing on her. For one, I’d already invested about $200 in lodgings and wine and this is a girl with a healthy appetite so I assumed there would almost certainly be a fodder bill still to come. I wanted more than half an hour’s return on that. For another thing, I don’t think she’d stand for pouncing anyway. You don’t drive a Rolls like you would an Alfa. I settled in for the long haul, kicking off my shoes and settling back against the firm pillows, wine in hand. Then she did the same, first primly tugging back down the one-piece which had ridden up on her thighs. She leaned in to me, one hand on my shoulder nearest to her, the other resting her glass on my chest.

“So…” was all she said.
“Mmm…” I replied.
We murmured. We couldn’t believe we were back in a one to one. We remembered when we did it all the time. The dusk faded and a half light penetrated in shafts. The room was filled with shadows and little pockets of light. She kissed me. First a peck my neck, then another peck on my cheek followed by a lip smacker.
I suddenly had a horrible thought. “You know, I haven’t got a fucking tooth brush with me!”
“Well I have ONE!” she offered.
We agreed to share. I know. But this was long before the Covid era and I’d exchanged a lot of other fluids with her without coming to harm. She would go first and she did.
My turn and she’d thoughtfully even squeezed some toothpaste on her brush for me. I gave my molars a good scrub, had a safety pee and washed my hands then went back to the bedroom.

That was when I discovered she was under the duvet. He bra was slung over one of the dining chairs. It looked burgundy even in the half light. Her one-piece was draped over the trouser press.
I got undressed without saying anything but I left my boxers on. We’d always had this thing about finally undressing each other in bed. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

I stretched out one arm and she shuffled in to my side. I could feel her tits against my rib cage. I don’t really know how to describe her tits. Well they’re big, obviously, and soft but sort of heavy. I used to idly speculate what they weighed. Maybe five kilos each. I don’t know how you would tell. In the old days, if I stood behind her I couldn’t put my arms around her tits and close my hands comfortably. Whereas I could do it easily around her waist.

A fleeting memory came back to me. One day she’d been off sick from work. After lunch, on my way to a meeting, I stopped by her apartment with some little treats to cheer her up. She was standing at her kitchen sink making coffee. I put my arms around her from behind, under the loose shirt she was wearing, and cupped her lovely tits, no bra, pressing my pelvis into her ass.

“Do you have to go right now?” she asked sadly.
“I’ve got a meeting in town in thirty minutes.” I apologised.
“Could you not even stay for half an hour?” she asked with meaning. “Please?”
I cancelled the meeting at some cost and spent the rest of the afternoon in her bed.

As I pulled back the duvet to get in beside her I caught a fleeting glimpse of her legs and sure nuff – burgundy knickers. This was a treat to savour and I wanted to take my time.
I kissed her and then started kissing my way down to her nipples. Another memory came back. I used to slap cream all over them and suck it off. We both liked that.

Inevitably her tits had dropped just a little. The huge strawberry nipples which used to live in the upper hemisphere were now at the equator and I saw that tiny stretch marks had started appearing around the top of her tits. The weight, I guess. Still a fabulous pair by any measure. I started biting her the way she used to like. Not a proper bite between upper and lower teeth. More a hard squeeze between tongue and the roof of my palette. I’d expected her to whimper softly like the old days but she stayed silent. I knew there was something wrong when I tried to push her thighs apart and she resisted and kept on resisting.

“Ok tell me,” I said. “I’m doing something wrong.”
“No, you’re not, it’s me.” She rolled away from me and lay on her back with her arms folded, looking at the shadows on the ceiling.
“I’m sorry, I’m struggling, I can’t get past my vows.” Oh jolly dee. She propositions me and then gets all holy at the last minute.

You have to be able to think fast in these situations. Sure, you could get mad and accuse her of leading you on and running up a tab for nothing. That would see her dressed and out the door in five minutes. I knew her ways. That she’d been unable to hold a strategy resulting in getting fucked wasn’t completely beyond my understanding. I didn’t have to like it. It’s what she’s like. She doesn’t do strategy. She does female logic. Also known as no logic.

So I decided to play the long game. “Well that’s OK. It’s cosy here, we have some wine, let’s just talk. What time do you have to be home?”
She said 9 in the evening would be fine for her folks.
So we talked again. She told me about her guy, the Middle East trips. It wasn’t a picnic but I’d already worked that out. She wouldn’t be here at all if it was all bliss and white light.
“I mean, he’s a good guy, looks after everybody, loves the kids, makes sure the apartment has everything. I don’t know, it’s just something…”

We chatted for about an hour. The tension subsided. She started laughing again and then she kissed me full on. While she did that she put her hand on my boxers. During the lull I’d lost the full erection I’d had but I was still semi ready. It wouldn’t take much to be back in race condition again.

“I could do it with my hands…,” she said almost apologetically, slowly pulling my cock up and down through the shorts.
“I’d love that.” I’d never spoken a truer word.
“You always did. Only hands mind…” she admonished with a giggle.
It’s strange, the mechanics of it all. The details.

“We’ll have to change sides,” she laughed. I realised why. She’s right handed.
I got up and walked round the end of the bed while she shuffled across to the spot I’d just left. As she did those fabulous tits bounced about beautifully.

We settled into the new slots, Jacobite now on my right hand side, leaning towards me and her right hand fumbling with the boxers.
“I think we’ll have to take these off,” she said in a sort of nursey way. I lifted my ass off the sheet, hooked one thumb into the elastic of the boxers and she tugged the other side down. After we got them over my feet I gave them one last hoof and they flew across the room. This amused her greatly.

The anticipation had already got me to the 90% battle stations level. She reached down and with her index figure traced the old vasectomy scars on my scrotum. As if they might no longer be there! Then she did that thing I really liked and no other girl seems to know. Rather than just wrapping her hand round my shaft and jerking for all she was worth, she very gently took the cock between her thumb and index finger and slowly teased it up and down. She is absolutely expert at it. Up and down slowly a few times, thumb and finger only, held at the “sides”. Then the thumb and fingers wrap and a some little jerks. Finally she completes the manoeuvre by pulling the sheath right down and stretching firmly, causing the head of my cock to thrust forward like an old tortoise head straining for a leaf. Rinse and repeat.

I was gasping and shaking on the bed like a defib patient.
“Don’t stop.” Said somebody. It was me. In our hey day, with oil she could get me spitting at the ceiling in five minutes with those tricks. We didn’t seem to have any oil this time but that was OK by me. The longer it lasted the better.
“Jeez, you are still so fucking good at that!” I observed in real admiration. “How did you learn to do that? Boys can’t do it so good for themselves. Well not this one anyway. I think we better get a towel handy.”
She blurted out a gasp of her own when I said that so it was obviously turning her on, mega.
“Practice makes perfect!” she replied coyly.

That was when things took another unexpected turn. She rolled away from me, raised her ass and slid her burgundy knickers off. She’d wet them, of course.
“C’mere,” was all she said.
I rolled over on to her. Then I kept rolling because I didn’t just want five minutes in the well. I wanted the whole ball game. I pushed her back to side of the bed she’d been on first. Because I’m right handed too. And this time she was ready to do what she was told.

I put one arm under her neck and got close to her. Then I slid my other hand down over the undulations of her tits and brushed it across her abdomen. I swear I felt it fluttering. Then I kept heading south. There is a lot of real estate to cover with those legs. I pushed them apart and didn’t encounter any resistance this time. I went all the way down to her knee and I’d have gone further except I couldn’t reach any more. I work my hand back up her thigh, kneading it along the way sports massage style. I stopped before I got to her crotch and repeated the motion twice. Then I did them same on the other side.

I put two fingers into the area where the thigh joins the abdomen where there’s a visible ligament. I pressed and prodded, athlete style, making sure I didn’t touch her pussy so I could keep up the tease. Then I did the same at the other side.

“Phwaaaaww,” she moaned, ending in a breathless rush.
This time I lightly traced around the triangle of her bush. I remember it as lighter than dark brown but darker than blonde. Whatever that colour is. Anyway I couldn’t see it now. But I could feel there was still plenty of it, well defined. I’d been worried her old man had picked up some bad habits in the Middle East and told her to remove it. Up, across her belly and down the other side. I was going to keep her waiting. She’d kept me. All the while I was kissing her on the lips and biting her nipples. Her breathing changed, became heavier and her gasps came out sometimes as moans and sometimes as grunts. Without giving her any warning I put my finger just above her anus and drew it lightly but very quickly over her pussy to her clitoris.

She gave a start and exhaled with a shudder. I did this a few more times and she was making a good row by this time. I’d actually forgotten how sensitive she was to stimulation.
I put my middle finger along her labia and in a circular motion starting lightly stroking her clit, labia and grand entrance all at once. A high pitched moan came out of her. Something between “Aw” and “Oh”. It started as a sound and ended as a gasp.

With her own right hand she had reached down and was gently tugging on my cock. In that position she couldn’t do her special number but I figured that was just as well. It was still pretty accomplished.
She then rolled slightly towards me again, put her left hand on my hip and gently pulled me towards her. “Come over here,” she suggested.
As I rolled across her she lowered the leg nearest to me than raised it again when I was between them. It’s funny how the details stick in your mind.
With her right hand she reached down and took hold of my cock. But she didn’t put it inside her. She slid the cock up over her wets lips, lubricating it. Then she started masturbating her clitoris with the head of my cock. I thought I was going to pass out with excitement. To give her more space to work in I raised myself a little and took my weight on my arms. It didn’t take long. When I bent down again to bite her nipple she stopped the wanking and started coming in her unique way. It’s difficult to explain but she compresses her lips and emits three – it’s always three – long “Mmmms,” that end in gasps Because her lips start closed the sound become very nasal and chesty. It’s beautiful, musical.

After this orgasm she pushed my cock inside her pussy. Because she was soaking wet I was able to slide all the way into her and back out. Slowly at first. Then I almost withdrew but left the head repeatedly penetrating her and withdrawing. With the weight on my arms I could do this about two times a second and keep things under control. She raised her hips and her ass and wrapped those legs effortlessly around me. If shagging was an Olympic sport she’d be a gold medallist at every event.

Now she reached down to her bush and started masturbating her clit while I slid in and out. She was making a good racket but I remembered the hotel was nearly empty so I didn’t try to shut her up.
“Can I ask you, just for information.” I enquired mischievously.
She nodded vigorously remembering what would come next.
“Do you still like me screwing you?” I asked.
She choked and started on another three “MMMs.” And I couldn’t hold on much longer myself. I stepped up the pace to 3hz and felt my cock expand as it whooshed a load into her. I must have had four or five contractions of my own and when I finally pushed it all the way home I felt her pussy contracting and vibrating very rapidly around my cock for several seconds.

I stayed inside her for about a minute. When my erection subsided I fell out of her and rolled back to my side of the bed.
I didn’t want to break the spell by stating the obvious. It had been a roller coaster fuck. I kept quiet and just snuggled against her.
In part two I’ll explain what unexpectedly happened over the next few days.

*Not her real name but I performed a similar adaptation with the original.

[Finelytuned84]

Superb! So well written. Thank you for that