The Inner Slut

What is it with men from California that I find so appealing? Tom's just plain sweet, and gentle and warm. Selfish and a jerk at times, but mostly sweet. And then there's Stew, 45, 6" tall, married, flew fighter planes before becoming an international commercial pilot. Met him last night. I was just chatting with him via IM only last Friday and then Sunday evening, I received a text message from him saying he was flying in and would I like to meet?

He arrived at noon. He sent me the hotel phone number and I called him up. He sounded really good over the phone. To answer his question, I said I'd be in a dark printed tailored long-sleeved blouse and a long black skirt, very corporate. He laughed pleasantly. When I got to the hotel, he was seated right in the foyer, facing the doors. We brought my pack up to his room. (He carried it for me. Very gallant!) As we were waiting for the elevator, he took me in his arms and bent down to kiss me. I averted my face, chiding him softly, and he ended up giving me a sweet, soft kiss on the neck.

We had dinner at this great grill place in Makati, large servings, great price, although the service was lousy.

"I can't believe you've never been out of the country," he remarked. "Your English is so good."

I thanked him graciously. "I went to this very exclusive, very Catholic high school where all the rich kids went. Most of them had grown up in California. I even had this classmate who never spoke without the word, 'like,' in there somewhere."

He laughed. "Yeah. Valley girl."

"She'd go, 'Uhm, like, Alexander the Great was, like, a hero. And, like, he lived a long time ago, like, in Greece.'"

"That's very good!" he roared in laughter. "You sound exactly like a Valley girl!"

"What's frightening was when her mom came to the PTA meeting, she spoke exactly like her daughter."

Stew groaned.

"The mom said, 'So, like, where's the PTA meeting, like, held?'" I continued with the mimicry. "I went, Lemme guess, you're Sheila's mom."

"I bet she said, 'Like, how'd you know?'"

We both rolled in laughter.

"Years afer, I saw my principal again," I said. "I went up to him, greeted him but he couldn't remember me. He said, 'You must have been a very good girl. I don't remember you being sent up to my office!'"

"If he could only see you now!"

That got me really laughing. This guy's got a good sense of humor. He knows where I'm at.

We took a cab back to his hotel as it was still raining. He waited patiently while I took a shower. He's a good looking man, lean body, nice cock. He was upset that he fried his digital camera. The tripod was already set up by the bed, and all the accessories scattered all over the dresser. The problem was the adapter that he had bought that afternoon. There must have been a power surge and did the camera's circuits. Flies planes but can't get the right adapter to work. Cute. Men are so adorable.

So I came out of the shower, cuddled up next to him on the bed. He smelt really nice. Armani. We kissed. Pretty soon, he was sucking on my nipples and rubbing my clit. We knelt on the bed, facing each other. While he was busy with my tits, I was rubbing my clit against his fingers. It felt really good. Something about Stew just got me excited. Maybe it was his very expressive enthusiasm for sex. He was groaning and moaning, voicing out his appreciation.

I spread my legs as he finger-fucked me, deep. Soon, I was surprised to feel my clit tingling. That got me all the more excited. I've never felt that way for a long time. Since Tom, actually. I was getting wetter and wetter, and Stew, more and more excited and vocal. When I squirted through his fingers, he grabbed me by the back of my neck and whispered hoarsely in my ear, calling me a slut and a whore. I felt the juice run down the length of my thighs.

"I wanna eat that wet pussy," he groaned. "Right now!" He threw me on the bed and came down on me, sucking loudly at my sopping wet clit and pussy lips. He knew how to enjoy himself with wet pussy. All the time, the tingling in my clit kept mounting. I thrust and thrust my pussy right in Stew's face. Then he did something new; he rubbed his mouth against my clit and pussy lips. Man, but that felt really good. When I couldn't stand it anymore, I pulled gently away from him and started to rub my clit.

Yes, that was it. I remembered the sensation. No doubt about it, I was going to squirt. Oh, but Stew loved it. He got really excited and encouraged me hoarsely with dirty talk, calling me a fuck-whore and his naughty slut. I exploded with a deep sigh of relief. It's been such a long time. I felt the rush of hot wet juice gushing out of my pussy, onto my hand, down my crack and ass. Stew stroked his cock as he watched with pleasure, praising me for such a beautiful performance.

I lay back, exhausted. Stew massaged my pussy for a while, then came up to suck on my tits. My knees felt weak. I could feel the wetness spreading on the bed underneath me. I could smell the metallic odor of my cum. But instead of feeling disgusted, I felt really proud of myself.

Stew was grinding his hard cock against my pussy now. "You want me to fuck you now, baby?" he whispered in my ear. "This is what you've been waiting for, isn't it? You want me to fuck that cock-fucker now?" I could only moan in pleasure as he ground that hot hard cock against my throbbing pussy. I gave a small cry when he thrust it in. He felt really good in me. But I was so wet that I almost couldn't feel anything; it was like my pussy was so numbfrom all that clitoral stimulation.

Not Stew, though. He kept groaning how tight and wet my pussy was. He pounded and pounded his cock deep into my pussy. It started to feel good, and better and better as he thrusted deeper and harder. Then, I couldn't believe it, my clit started tingling again. I waited to explode while Stew was fucking me hard. My knees were up to my ears already, his cock, deep in me, but nothing was happening. So I reached down and started rubbing my clit. As if on cue, Stew pulled his cock out and moaned in anticipation, watching me rub on my swollen clit.

"Yeah, that's right, slut," he said hoarsely, as he stroked his cock. "Work on that clit. Oh, but you are such a cock-fucking whore!"

Once again, I exploded. I kept cumming and cumming. I was exhausted and wanted to stop, but the juice wouldn't stop gushing. I could feel my pussy muscles contracting, as if it wanted to push my insides out of me. Stew was ecstatic. I can't remember what he was saying, but he was so pleased. I stopped but my clit still tingled and a little stream of cum was still coming out of my pussy, so I went back to my clit. Another explosion, and cum started squirting out again. Stew was speechless as he watched. But I suppose it was too much for the poor guy, he had to stick his cock in me again. After all, what else could you do to a fantastically cumming cunt?

This time, the fucking was unforgiving. "This is what you like, isn't it, you slut?" he said viciously. "You're a whore. You like to pretend you're so prim and proper, but you really are a whore, aren't you?" I just had to laugh out loud. The Inner Slut beamed with pride with the recognition.

Stew thrusted and pounded until, finally and with a shuddering moan, he came deep inside me. I couldn't help but feel moved. It was so good. It was all good. When he pulled out his cock, I rubbed my clit a little more but, tingle as it might, no more cum was forthcoming. I had depleted my cum glands. I hadn't done that in a long time. I looked at the clock. We've been at it for seventy-five minutes. Mmmm. Talk about stamina.

We had to put towels over the bed so we could sleep on it, it was that soaking wet. He went to the bathroom but I fell asleep even before he came back to bed, I was that exhausted.

This morning, before I left, I leaned over him as he lay on the bed and kissed him on the mouth. He didn't smell of morning mouth at all. And his lips were so soft and sweet. He got up to see me to the door and said that we should do this again real soon.

Most definitely.