I was a senior in college in one end of my state dating this young gal from my hometown in the other end of the state. She is the same girl as the one in Feeling Kind of Lucky, the story of how I met her.
Anyway, Zoe was my junior, but looked every day of 21. She was 6 feet tall, had shoulder-length blonde hair and blue eyes, with a “model” figure–long, slender legs and arms and wasp waist–but with firm 34/35-C breasts. She was a drop-dead gorgeous babe, and she was at that stage in life where she was experimenting with sex and would do anything. Of all my girlfriends, I think she and I fucked more frequently than any other, though because we lived 400 miles apart, we didn’t get to be with each other very often.
In fact, she cracked me up once when we were fucking in the sole tiny bathroom of a New Wave Club, which featured great bands but was a total dive. People were waiting in line, but this wasted dude couldn’t wait to piss, so he just forced his way in and whizzed in the one toilet right up against the one sink where Zoe sat as I banged her. He never closed the door, so when he finished, a chick came in to pee, and then several other patrons one after the other. We never stopped fucking, and to each person who came in, she, expressionless, would look him or her straight in the face, and say, “We pretty much fuck constantly.” Which was pretty much the truth.
Since she lived with her parents at their home and I was home from college, I, too, stayed with my parents, so finding a place to fuck during school breaks was a problem, especially Christmas break, when it was cold.
Oh, sure, we’d fool around at our parents’ homes when we could, but those opportunities did not come up often enough, and the inside of a car gets old fast, especially considering that the heater barely worked, and filthy cramped bathrooms like the one in the New Wave dive were not exactly romantic.
We’re driving around the city the night after Christmas drinking champagne straight from the bottle and took a shortcut, through a rather seedy part of town. There, on the right, was a place called the Rebel Inn, lit up in blinking red neon lights, so I slowed down for a look-see.
Many years before a Holiday Inn, it was an old 2-story motor court style motel with the rooms in a U shape and a small glassed-in, drive-through check-in hut between the sides of the U. Rooms by the hour, the sign said: 1 hour-$8, 2 hours-$12, 3 hours-$15, 24 hours-$20. Pooling everything we had including change in the bottom of her purse, we barely sc****d together $15 for 3 hours. I noted that the time was 9:30 PM and that we would need to be out by 12:30 AM, so I paid the lady behind the glass (bullet-proof, I suspect), got the key, drove in, parked, and went into our ground-floor room.
It was certainly no Hilton, but was much better than we had expected. The 1950s-era aqua tile bathroom was spotless and had thin towels and washcloths, though there were plenty, and the hot water and toilet worked just fine. The heat was already on and felt good on the 20-degree night. Though the bed was just a standard size, it felt OK and the sheets were clean.
Zoe flipped on the Color TV! mounted high on the wall. The local station reception was so bad you couldn’t make out hardly anything, but it had several continuous-porn channels that were perfect. She’d never seen much porn before but was riveted with keen interest to the set as I undressed her and myself. She suggested we do whatever the actors were doing, and I readily agreed, firing up a bowl and passing it over to her before cracking the second of 4 bottles of champagne I’d received as Christmas gifts. This cheap motel actually had glass tumblers in the bathroom, so I poured the pagne into them, and we drank up.
Having spent Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with our respective families, we had not been together (i.e., fucked) in 48 hours, so to say we were extremely horny would be a gross understatement.
Though Zoe was young and fantastic looking, to tell you the truth, since she was pretty new at all this sex stuff, she needed some development, particularly in the blow-job department. And the chick in the porn flick was giving head ever so fine, so Zoe watched her carefully and mimicked her techniques, demonstrating that she was, indeed, a quick learner.
Well, we imitated every move they made in the flicks, assuming some pretty advanced positions. She liked them all, and we were particularly well suited to the standing fuck. She 6 feet tall with a gap at the top her thighs just below her pussy and I 6′ 2″, facing each other pressed nipple-to-nipple, we were mutually perfectly proportioned to fuck standing flat-footed as we French-kissed and squeezed each others asses.
While in a delightful 69 imitating the actors, the phone rang. It was one of those old-fashioned Bell telephones with a loud metallic bell ringer configured in this motel to ring continuously until answered. Rudely interrupting, to say the least. Who the hell could that be? I could reach the phone from where I lay beneath Zoe, so I answered it, mainly to stop the noise.
It was the gal we’d checked in with, and she said it was time to check out. I checked my watch; it was 11:35 PM, so we’d been there 2 hours. I told her we’d checked in for 3 hours, so we had another hour to go. She said no, that we’d only paid for 2 hours and that it was time to check out. I told her that we had paid $15 and were going to stay for the full 3 hours until 12:30 AM.
She insisted that I’d paid only $12, and we would either have to leave immediately or come up with another $3. I would have gladly shelled out another three bucks just to shut her up and get back to sex with Zoe, but our combined financial resources amounted to three cents, so that was not an option. I insisted that I was certain I’d paid $15 for 3 hours and to leave us alone. She became really ugly, swearing like a drunk sailor so loud that Zoe could hear her every word, so she took the receiver to say her piece but couldn’t get a word in edgeways, finally hanging it on the bracket in front of the TV speaker that was blasting out the moans and dirty talk of the porn flick.
The bitch finally shut up as the actor began licking the porn queen’s anus. “Asshole,” I commented, and we chuckled a hearty laugh, and I resumed the copy-the-film routine by sticking my own tongue in Zoe’s little poop shoot. Zoe was on all fours with her beautiful young bottom hiked high in the air at the perfect angle for me to ass-lick. She liked that a lot, and, like the porn queen, started saying stuff like “Lick it good, yeah, stick that tongue in my bum hole, yeah, deeper!”
Then the flick chick inserted a big dildo in her pussy as he continued to lick her ass hole. Having no dildo, I reached over to the side table and got the champagne bottle, sc****d the foil off the neck, and buried it in Zoe’s dripping wet pussy as I continued to tongue her squinch hole. She rocked her hips back and forth on the bottleneck and my tongue, cumming for the umteenth time. Needless to say, this was fun!
Well, everyone knows what the porn man was going to do next, but I was not so sure Zoe did. Sure enough, porn gal kept working the dildo in her cunt as dick man plunged right into her ass. I did not immediately follow suit. With eyes glued to the set, Zoe asked what I was waiting for.
Now I don’t have a cock as big as porn man’s, but it is 7 inches long and nearly 2 inches thick, and Zoe’s ass hole was tiny, very tight even on the tip of my tongue. I said I wasn’t sure we had a fit. She said I was a lot bigger than James (her previous boyfriend) but that she’d done it with him, liked it a lot, and said, “Take your big cock and fuck me in my tight little ass,” mimicking the porn flick chick.
All right, then. So I lubed my man up with her pussy juice, positioned it at her saliva-sopping back door, and very slowly eased the tip into the tightest spot Mr. Johnson had ever come a calling. She cried out like a banshee, and I froze. Gritting her teeth, she said “Go ahead, jam that hard dick all the way in my butthole!” so, as instructed, I drove all 7 inches of thickness up her Hershey Highway. Whimpering, she nevertheless said she loved it. I loved it, too, and I tell you, had I not split 4 bottles of champagne and 1/4 oz of killer weed with her, I would have surely erupted right then.
Then, loud banging on the door. I checked my watch–ten ’til midnight, plenty time left. Suddenly, the door swings open, and two uniformed policemen, the check-in bitch, and an old Chinese dude march in! “You no pay, no leave, we calla cops!” he shouted. Don’t move, directed one of the officers, hand on his holstered pistol.
(I mean, for Christ’ sake, we’re nude; did he think I was going to mow them down with rapid-fire spurts of cum?)
OK, so here I am drunk and stoned in a cheap motel watching porn with my dick in the ass of a gorgeous young hottie with a bottle of Brut Extra Dry in her pussy. Rather compromising, wouldn’t you say?
I scanned the room. Thank God! When I’d gotten the last bottle of champagne out of the sack, I’d laid the bag on top of the pipe, weed, and ashtray on the side table, obscuring from view the contraband. Since I was 22, the alcohol was not a problem for me, and I was trusting my lucky stars the cops, like everyone else, would think Zoe was older than she really was. The cops’ eyes were glued to her hot naked body, that’s for sure.
The one cop said he’d heard Mr. Fu’s story and wanted to hear mine. I told him. He asked if I had a receipt. I told him yes, to look in my wallet in my jeans on the chair. He found it and read it out loud, “The Rebel Inn. Check In–12-26, 9:32 PM. Check Out–12-27,12:32 AM. Cash $15.00. According to your own receipt, Mr. Fu, they have paid to be here until 12:32 in the morning.”
“So solly. We go now.” The cops were still ogling and the check-in bitch was snickering. The whole damn thing was her doing and her idea of fun, I guess. They shut the door, locked it back, and all left. The whole interruption had taken less than 2 minutes, and, not wanting to risk being hauled downtown for sodomy, Zoe and I had stayed coupled dick-in-butt to appear that we were just fucking doggie style. We had a little over half an hour left in the room.
Her butt was so tight on my cock that, despite the intrusion, it was still hard as a bat. So we just picked up where we left off, only switching the TV off this time. She worked that bottleneck furiously in her pussy as I gradually picked up speed in her bum, alternately taking a swig from another half-full champagne bottle and toking from the pipe as I did so.
The sounds emanating from her mouth could have been interpreted as hellish or heavenly, but whatever they were, she was cumming over and over. I was ramming my meat into that tight little ass full tilt boogie, letting the man pop completely out every 10th stroke or so, just for the visual effect, only to bury it again.
I felt a monumental orgasm rising from deep within, the kind that has built for such a long time, that you know is coming in a few minutes, that you feel throughout your entire body, and that will last a long time.
At last, I exploded into her bad hole, filling it with spurt after spurt of hot cream, and Zoe, heaving like a racehorse, now quietly cooed as I gradually slowed my piston to an idle.
With no time to clean up, I plugged her ass with a champagne cork (I didn’t want my just-cleaned car seats soiled!), we grabbed our clothes and the stash, and dashed naked to my car parked right in front of the door. It was exactly 12:32 AM—the precise check-out time–on my watch.
On the way out, there sat the check-in bitch on the stool behind the glass. That big-tittied wench tried to ruin our evening. I was not going to let her get away with it, and I was going to give her a cussing she’d never forget. I had pulled up too far to put the key in the key drop, and there was a car now right behind preventing me from backing up, so I gestured with the key, hoping she’d slide open the window to take it and give me the opportunity to mount my verbal assault. I smiled my most pleasant smile. It worked! She got up and made her way over to the window to open it.
As I did this, Zoe had rolled down the car window on her side. At 20 degrees outside, my window already open, a crummy car heater, and we still naked, I asked her what the hell she was doing. Zoe whispered, “You’ll see, just be real nice to her and apologize for the misunderstanding, so do as I say and you’ll be glad you did, you’ll see.”
I was so sickeningly nice to her, telling her how terribly sorry I was about the whole thing, that I truly hoped there were no hard feelings, that it was just a simple little ol’ mix-up. I held out the key and she leaned forward to take it. Naturally, my eyes were trained on her big, bra-less titties. She was leaning especially far forward to catch a glimpse of my still half-hard dick. Fair enough.
At that moment, I saw something fall between her boobs. What was that? Well, Zoe had pulled the cum-covered cork out of her butt and, with deadly aim, tossed it over the top of my car right between the bitch’s tits, lodging deep in her cleavage!!! Brilliant!!! Cum-dung splattered on the tops of her dark brown tits (she was African American), and not knowing what the hell was between them, she instinctively grabbed the cork, which caused more of the semen-and-excrement mixture to smear on her hands and sweater.
Realizing what it was, that bitch let out a hellish screech that sounded exactly like the pterodactyl on the old Johnny Quest cartoon series. She hurled the cork back at us, but it narrowly missed and sailed through the cabin and out Zoe’s window. She ripped off the sweater and flung it aside, hanging up on my antenna! So now the bitch is screaming and hollering and cursing, with her big, sperm-and-shit splattered breasts heaving in plain view through the glass hut to not only to me and Zoe, but also the people in the two cars behind me and the 3 cars lined up to check in.
I saw her grabbing for keys, and we quickly rolled our windows up and locked the doors before she came storming out the hut mad as hell and spat a big Louie on my window. The bitch lunged for her sweater dangling from my antenna, and I goosed the accelerator several times to keep it just out of reach. I must admit, she had one fine pair of nearly perfectly round DD tits, with rock-hard nipples in the ice-cold air, that were wobbling every which way as she tried to snatch her sweater, and I noticed that the waiting patrons were finding all this supremely entertaining.
I didn’t want her sweater, but if I let her get it, she’d probably snap off my antenna, so I floored it out of there, and it fell off as I porpoised out the drive. She ran all the way out there to get it! Bouncy, bouncy, bouncy!
She was now out by the busy thoroughfare, and cars slowed down for a look-see.
The bitch was still ranting and raving in my rear-view mirror as I peeled out and drove to Zoe’s, laughing hysterically the whole way and agreeing it was the perfect payback.
Despite the obvious risk, because it was cheap and clean and warm, we actually went back to the Rebel Inn a few days later. There was a help-wanted sign on the glass hut, and the old China man owner was working check-in/out himself. He didn’t even recognize us—maybe because we had our clothes on or because all Caucasians looked the same to him—but we paid $20 for 24 hours and handed it over to him. He said, “You need job, young lady? I need good help now. Girl just walk off job, not come back. She always good emproyee, then disappear. Don’t know what happen.”
Before driving back to the room, I said, “My suggestion: You need to either hire someone who can tell time or install the latest in anti-semen-and-feces-encrusted-champagne-cork-missile technology.” We cracked up laughing, but, of course, he had no idea what I was talking about.
Note: I found this one a few years ago byHornyman69WithU