Irma Laloose - Vacation Sex play

Hank Fisher sat cross-legged like a Punjab on the bed. He squinted his eyes into little slits, trying to match the slits in the venetian blinds on the window to the left of him in the hotel room. A brilliant glare of flashing neon's sparked gaudily in and out of the room like a giant, pulsing, Technicolor firefly, winking and blinking in its incessant intrusion into the privacy of the darkened room.

On and off, in and out. Each flash illuminated the room in a split second of multicolored grotesqueness. Why, thought Hank to himself, do all hotel rooms look ugly regardless of price?

In truth the room wasn't ugly. It was standard, or a cut above standard, hotel fare. Wall-to-wall carpeting was keyed to the dominant color in the chic, striped, woven drapes, drapes which Hank hadn't bothered to close. Now he quietly chided himself because he hadn't taken the time to do so. At least it would have softened the neon glare from that sign whatever it was, across the street.

He sighed, looked around at the dub chairs, desk and chest of drawers along the wall at the end of the bed, and the mirror above it. A flash of flesh in the mirror suddenly snapped his mind back to the business at hand. He looked down between his legs and focused his attention on a bobbing head of black hair. It belonged to the young thing who was valiantly trying to suck him off.

Up and down her head bobbed in tireless rhythm. As she bobbed up and down, her mouth sliding up and down on his prick, she moved her head in various directions in contrapointal harmony to the sucking. Ugh! Hank thought. Her head looks like a huge hairball bouncing in the breeze.

As, good as the experienced little mouth and tongue were at working over his prick, there was little response from Hank's organ. At most, he figured, he had half a hard-on. But the dark-haired young girl, who knelt naked before him on the bed, didn't seem to mind. She just kept up her ceaseless sucking and licking, licking and sucking. The dead silence of the room was broken now and then by slurping suction noises as she worked away.

Why should the little bitch care? Hank thought to himself bitterly. Why should she care how long it takes? I'm paying for her time. I'm paying for this blow job, and she'll suck me off if it takes all night!

Every time he said the word "pay" to himself, Hank physically flinched. That was the crux of this lousy evening. He had to pay for it! He had to pay this professional little whore. He wanted sex and tonight for the first time in his whole life, he had to pay for it! Was it any wonder he was having a hard time getting it up? Handsome Hank, the man women used to swoon over, used to fight among themselves over. Handsome Hank has come to the point where he has to pay for pussy. The thought and realization of all of the implications almost made him physically ill. Had he lost his manhood? Had he lost his physical attraction to women. Had he lost his virility?

Hank looked up and looked at himself in the mirror. He studied himself each time the flashing neon light from across the street illuminated the room. Sure, he was thirty-eight, but his ruggedly handsome face looked younger — especially since he had gotten the hairpiece. It was a good-looking hairpiece, and not cheap. It fringed his face in steel grey, similar to the way Richard Burton had worn his hair in one of those Roman movies about Caesar.

He looked at his shoulders. They were wide, and his chest was still well molded, covered with an adequate amount of manly hair. His body was tanned and only had the hint of flab, not the reality of it.

Wasn't it only yesterday he wondered, that I was on the college football field? On the football field Hank had looked like an Adonis in his blue and gold uniform. The crowds had cheered and chanted his name. The cheerleaders had jumped high into the air, sending their tiny skirts flying tit high, or turned cart wheels. All was for the purpose of displaying their fine young crotches to him. All was in the hopes of enticing him to choose them to fuck that night after the game. He could have had any of them, all of them, or none of them, as he wished. And at various times he had done just that: fucked one of them, fucked all of them, fucked none of them, having chosen one of the many girls that swarmed around him for autographs instead.

Wasn't it only yesterday? he wondered with incredulity. Only yesterday? Suddenly he wanted to get rid of the little whore whom he had met in the hotel bar. I've got to concentrate, he told himself. The garish noon light flashed through the venetian blinds again. For the first time Hank noticed the girl's ass reflected in the mirror. He looked more intently.

The girl was on her knees, her ass waving high in the air as she fucked her mouth back and forth, up and down on his half-hard prick. In the flickering light he observed the undulations of her smooth, white rear end.

The two white mounds were small and taut. He studied them closely. On the left one he noticed a small brown mole. But as he kept on gazing at it, he realized that it was not a mole but a birth mark.

As the girl hunched forward her crack widened, separating the two molds even further. Hank could see the clean hairless crack in her ass and traced it with his eyes.

The tiny red seam widened where the mounds of her ass rounded out. It revealed the brown little sphincter muscle of her ass hole. As he watched it, it seemed to pulse with each movement of her body. He could almost imagine the little asshole opening and closing like the mouth of a goldfish in water.

A tight little brown mouth, imperceptibly opening and closing. Hank wanted to change his position so he could get his finger into the opening and ream it gradually further and further open. And as it opened, he imagined sliding his big fat cock into it, right up to the balls! Swoomp!

Yeah! Hank was beginning to get turned on now. What difference did it make that she was a little whore? Who cared that she was sucking his dick for money? Look at that muscle pulsate!

"Um-m-m-m-m," hummed the young girl, still mouthing him. She was pleased because at long last Hank's manhood was coming to life in her practiced mouth. The vibrations of the hum on his prick tickled Hank and he could feel his organ beginning to harden. His balls began to jump.

The neon light flashed through the venetian blinds again. Hank looked deeper into the mirror. In her excitement and pleasure at Hank's response, the black-haired girl really got to work, and as she did, her ass lifted even further into the air and became more animated.

Now Hank could see not only her asshole, but further down. Her slit came into view. He could see the labial lips, the dark slit between them. Curly hair fringed it where it disappeared towards her belly.

"Spread your legs, honey," Hank coaxed her. "Lift your ass a little higher; I want to see your clit in the mirror." Without hesitation the young girl spread her knees on the bed and dipped her back. Hank could see everything now. The lips of her vagina parted even further. He could see the pyramidal clit holding fort at the apex of her slit. Her curly pubic hairs clustered around it.

There was a slight glistening from inside her love hole. The little bitch was enjoying her work. Her juices were beginning to flow. Hank was really getting turned on.

"Come on, baby, finger yourself," Hank urged as he began rocking his body to the movements of her sucking. The girl reached her right hand down between her legs. Deftly she began stroking her slit. Then she began rotating her clit with the first two fingers of her right hand.

Hank began to pant. He leaned forward and began stroking her back. Beginning at the end of her spine where it divided, he stroked upwards, one hand after the other in a broad sweep, pawing fashion.