Another week overseas, another chance to meet some friendly locals. This time: Australia. But as so often happens, people chicken out, they stand you up, they leave you hanging. Friday night, a couple cites “baby troubles.” Saturday night, a single lady begs off, saying she’s broken out with cold sores all over her lips. Ewwww, that doesn’t sound nice. Sunday, more of the same, another couple backs out. Finally, Monday looks promising. Mid-40s “earth mother” who is in her “lesbian stage” decides that an American male seems harmless enough, and agrees to have me at her home. I rent a car, drive 50km south out of town, and hit the panic button as soon as I pull up. House is a complete shambles. Junk piled everywhere. She has a 4-year-old crying kid, a wild, snarling dog that’s ready to rip my leg off, and two hippy friends that are going to babysit the little runt while we “spiritually bond.” We pile into her beat up Combi, and drive away to ditch the kid. We get to the gas station, and she’s forgotten the key to open the gas tank lid. She’s shaking, she’s stinky, she looks like a meth head. We drive all the way back to her dive, and I see an out, and say, “well, I’ll just wait at the beach, I have some work to do anyway.” She murmurs OK, and drives away. Once I deem her safely out of range, I jump in my car, and bust out of there. There are limits, after all.
Tuesday, a nibble. A delicious mid-40s divorcee meets for an after-work drink. She’s gorgeous, big blue eyes, wide smile, curvy in all the right places. She seems a bit shy, but opening up, but when we’re two drinks into it, she suddenly begs off for home. A peck on the check, nice to meet, yeah, OK, maybe later this week. Now growing frantic, a bolt from heaven on Wednesday. Another mid-40s married lady responds to my ad: her husband is at a golf outing all day, if I come around now, we can shag. One never to miss an opportunity, I buzz straight over, and meet her in hotel lobby. Tall, slender, Pilates-sculpted body, a total knockout. After some chit-chat, she reaches under table, grabs my leg: “shall we go upstairs? We don’t have a lot of time.” I’m thinking, are you sure your hubby won’t be back early? I’m never one to let that stop me, so up we go, groping in the elevator, slip inside the room, deep, passionate kisses. Firm, tight ass, nice boobs, my hands are exploring this delicious, gorgeous, top-shelf woman. She’s wrestling with my belt. Before I know it, she’s down on her knees, providing excellent service. It’s been nearly two weeks without any quality, so I’m in danger of losing it way too fast. But she’s expert oral, giving me a master lesson, so I just start thinking about everything except blowing my load all over her face. At my limit, I grab her, push her face first into the pillows, pull up her dress, and start nibbling at her morsels from behind. She’s well-lubed, and begging for my U.S. beef injection. I slip on a condom, and ease right in; just pulling her panties aside and using her dress to time my deep, steady, smooth thrusts. Lovely tightness is taking it all, grinding her ass into my cock. I pull out, sit back, pull her on top, and she starts riding, kissing my neck, pinching my nipples. My eyes are loving the view: tight stomach, gorgeous fake tits hidden inside a lacy bra, lovely tan legs, flowing hair, dazzling smile, all riding away in blissful pleasure. My inner beast is building, so I roll her onto her back, and starting plowing with harder, assertive thrusts. She’s pinching both my nipples, looking me directly in the eyes: “Fuck me as hard as you can.” With that, I go completely wild, plowing her for all I am worth; balls slapping, cock ramming, and she’s growling deep and naughty: “Come on, harder!” Another 20 hard pumps or so, and I’m over the edge. Where do you want this cum? On my face. Ufffff, how I do love these Aussie milfs! I whip off the condom, straddle her tits, and she starts tugging on my balls, “Give it to me! Give me that cum!” I let out my best Tarzan growl and let fly a huge gusher. She greedily laps it up. Just as quickly, her phone buzzes. An SMS, the hubby will be back in 15mins. With that, I make a hasty retreat. A deep kiss goodbye, she grabs my balls one more time at the door, “That was fun, shame we’re leaving tomorrow.” A shame indeed. …
The next few nights are complete busts; stood up twice, no answer, no reply, so I just get drunk with my buddies. On the last night, another nibble, another mid-40s divorcee. She rocks up at appointed time and hour, absolutely gorgeous, looking like an Ali McGraw with short hair. Very cool lady, we totally hit it off, laughing, drinking all night long. She turns icy at my sloppy attempts at kissing her. We keep drinking, keep laughing, she keeps giving me the stiff arm every time I try to grab her sexxxy ass. It’s 3am, I have a flight the next day, so I try a Hail Mary, and invite her back to my room. She just laughs, and says, “You probably couldn’t get it up anyway.” I laugh, too, because she was probably right. Another peck on the cheek, and promises of a European visit this summer.
Terribly hung over the next morning, and out of horny desperation, I email my office lady from Tuesday: “I have all day free, my flight’s not until night, wanna to play?” She comes back positive. I kit up in my cycling gear, cover the 25km in 45mins (amazing what a little extra motivation will do to your average speed). She invites me in, the only thing she has to drink is Scotch – no beer, no wine, nothing – so Scotch it is. I’m all sweaty in my cycling gear, she’s in some sexy sarong type thing that’s all wrapped up. We pile into her bed, and after some awkward 30mins or so when she clearly was having second thoughts, the Scotch finally starts to kick in, and she starts to loosen up. It took another 20mins of steady coaxing to get her out of that sarong, but, man, was it worth the effort. Gorgeous, juicy, soft feminine body. She clearly hadn’t been shagged in awhile, so I went slow, taking my time, exploring her body, letting her open up, and she finally unwound. We ended up in some rather acrobatic, bizarre position where she was on her side, legs cocked wide, and I was pumping her from behind, but almost upside down. Out of blue, I couldn’t control myself, unwrapped my cock, and blew a huge load all over that lovely white creamy ass. We cuddled and spooned for a good while, I even fell asleep for 30mins in post-coital, hungover bliss, when she started every-so-slightly grinding her ass up against my cock. That’s all it took, and I awoke from my slumber. But what happened next was incredibly super-charged erotic. Every time I would advance the action, she would push me back, resist, scratch me with her fingernails, then when I would ease off, she would pull me closer, grind into me, kiss me, urge me on, until I started to advance. Then she would block me again. So I quickly realized this little tart wants to live some fantasy or something twisted like that. It triggers my deep, inner caveman, and I start going at her pretty rough, pulling her hair, spanking her, spitting on her tits, grabbing her neck. All the while, she’s fighting back, pinching and scratching me, making some weird protest sounds like some nymph Japanese. I’m rightly confused, yet every time I ease off, she grinds back in, she wants more, harder, more intense. So I finally get her face buried deep in the pillows, her gorgeous round ass propped up real nice, and I am just giving her everything I’ve got. She’s totally submissive at this point, and I am just a wild, fucking beast, slapping her ass, pulling her hair, spitting on her back, calling her names, and she’s loving it!! When I motion to pull out to cum, she reaches around and holds me tight, clinches her pussy down on my cock, and I unleash a second massive load deep inside her. Uffffff – we both collapse, she reverts back to her shy, proper office lady self. Covered in sweat, I realize I need to cycle back 25kms, pack, disassemble my bike, finish some work, and catch the last train out of Dodge. What a week! Viva la vida!
