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Jean, Rediscovered

Female Ejaculation

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Jean, Rediscovered

It’s one thing to wake up in a hotel room, forgetting where you were and how you got there; but it’s another when you wake up naked, next to a naked man sleeping face down and you struggle to remember his name.

I looked around the room and recognized my luggage.

I was in my hotel room.

Denver business trip.

Conference.

It was all coming back to me.

I got up to pee, trying not to wake the sleeping giant in my bed. I moved slowly, not so much to be quiet, but because I realized moving any faster would cause my head to spin.

“What did I drink last night?” I thought to myself. “And what time is it?” I must have just missed the sunrise.

While I sat on the toilet, it didn’t take me long to realize my mystery man hadn’t used a condom. Having just turned 42, I wasn’t as concerned about getting pregnant, but at my age, I really didn’t want to make appointments with my gynecologist to check for STDs.

I decided to hold off on flushing the toilet while I peaked through the open door at the quietly sleeping mystery man. He had turned onto his side. Broad shoulders. Football player?

I turned on the bathroom light and looked at myself in the full mirror.

Forty-two years old, divorced, mother of a college boy, sales and marketing professional, and apparently recently well-fucked. My shoulder-length red hair was a mess, but in a good way. My make-up still looked good, not that I used that much. I had a pretty good idea where most of my lipstick had ended up. The crows feet at the corners of my eyes were a little more present than usual. Normal, for early in the morning.

I still had an all-over tan thanks to the previous-Summer visits with my just-turned-nudist friend that I had known from high school, Marjorie.

Marjorie inherited a huge sum of money from a distant relative years ago, invested as she was told, and sold when she was told. I doubted anyone thought she was filthy rich, but she certainly had money to spare. She maintained some of her sensibilities by putting money in trust funds for nieces and nephews and their families. She opted for the smallest of boob jobs that made them look more real than my natural breasts, she had a personal trainer that I was pretty sure was her personal sex provider when the mood struck her, and she grew almost all of her own fruits and vegetables. She reminded me of a younger, prettier, and less-uptight version of Martha Stewart. For the most part, she had her shit together.

Marjorie wasn’t without her peculiarities, though. About a year ago, she bought a hilltop estate in Provo with a pool, and decided anyone coming over to just lounge around, drink, and get tan had to lose their clothes at the front door. I thought she was kidding, at first. But when she was naked the first time I came over to lay out by the pool, I decided to go with it.

It had been a great Summer. I went over there several times a week. A little work talk, and a lot of girl talk. She was a little more adventurous than I had been at 37, but then again, I was married when I was 37.

My natural 36D boobs were still nice to look at, even without a bra, and my butt – once firm, round, and muscular – only recently started to show signs of age. Marjorie turned me on to squats before my butt sagged too much, and with time, I was sure my butt would eventually look better than it did in my twenties. Maybe.

My arms and legs looked great, considering the amount of sun I had been exposing them to. My belly still showed the hint of having been pregnant twenty-some years ago, but I could live with it. Thanks to a lot of creams while pregnant, the stretch marks were barely noticeable. I opted for natural childbirth, so I could wear the tiniest of string bikini bottoms and not be self-conscious about any C-section scar.

I’d been shaving or waxing my nether-regions since my late teens, and seeing this, Marjorie recommended laser hair removal. I had told her I’d think about it, and then she made a point of spreading her legs and butt cheeks to show off the results. If such a thing could be marketed, she would have been a natural salesperson. Laser hair removal was on my list of things to do after this trip. For the time being, though, my pretty hairless pussy still looked hairless and pretty.

The stranger in my bed was a heavy sleeper. He rolled onto his back and was sporting a morning hard-on under the thin sheet barely covering half his body. Curious, I tiptoed to his side of the bed to get a better look at him.

Handsome, thankfully.

Built like a football player.

And young. Oh my gosh, young.

“Are you even old enough to drink?” I said under my breath. He didn’t stir.

Wanting to peak under the sheets, I knelt next to the bed and leaned in close. I slowly pulled back the bahis şirketleri sheets to expose a handsome example of manhood with a ring of my favorite lipstick around the base of his eight inch shaft.

“Back for more?” the young man said as he placed a hand on the back of my head and pushed it toward his beautiful cock. His slick helmet parted my lips and I instinctively sucked half his shaft down my throat.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasped. “You sure do know how to suck cock, don’t you?”

Without taking him out of my mouth, I positioned myself on top of him in a sixty-nine, and his mouth and tongue went to work on my wet sex. His hands felt incredible on my butt and legs.

He stopped for a moment, shifting under me.

“Let me fuck you again before I leave!” he said with enthusiasm.

Without saying a word, I rolled off of him as he positioned himself between my legs. I guided his shaft to my pussy, rubbing the head across my wet slit before he eased himself in.

“Ughhh,” I grunted as he sank his shaft into me. He felt good. I can see why I let him come inside me before, and it was probably why I was going to let him do it again.

He fucked me hard, and fast. I pulled my legs back, letting him hit bottom and then some. His hands moved from my thighs, to my breasts, to my neck, and then my face. Every muscle in his body seemed to flex as he fucked me, and it didn’t take long for sweat to cover his face, neck, and chest.

I sucked on his thumb when he placed it in my mouth, and I looked into his eyes. He seemed to like that. I have sexy blue eyes that seem to scream “orgasm” especially with something in my mouth.

He leaned forward and kissed me. I locked my ankles behind his waist as our tongues intertwined, and felt his spurts of warm come filling my pussy. He slowed his thrusts almost immediately.

“No!” I blurted out. “I’m so close. One more time?”

“I would, but I’ve really gotta go,” he said, withdrawing a very wet cock from between my legs.

“Do you want to at least shower, first?” I asked. I knew it wouldn’t take much. I could come just by fingering myself while I looked at him.

“Nah, sorry,” he said, hopping off the bed and looking around for his clothes. “I really gotta go. The guys are probably already looking for me and getting ready to give me a hard time about this.”

“About what?” I asked.

He pretended not to hear me, instead, putting on his t-shirt, his missing flip-flop, and grabbing his phone and wallet before opening the door.

“I’m sorry, but I guess I had too much to drink last night. I don’t think I remember your name,” I said, with my best puppy dog eyes.

“That’s ’cause you didn’t ask, and I didn’t tell,” he replied with a smile and closed the door behind him.

I wasn’t sure how long I sat in the small puddle of come, but the ringing phone snapped me out of my trance and sent me into an instinctive panic. Nobody called me on the hotel phone unless I was late for something. I rolled across the bed and the hotel phone went silent before I could pick it up. Seconds later, my cellphone range. Of course, it was on the other side of the bed. Not without kneeling in the puddle of come, I could see it was one of my coworkers calling.

“Hey Jean!” Brad said, obviously on his third cup of coffee. “You coming down for breakfast?”

“Hey… hey Brad,” I yawned. “Yeah, I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

“What’d you end up doing last night? Or should I ask who? Ha-ha…” Brad was such an idiot. Click. I turned the phone off, looked around the room to gather up clothes that had apparently been thrown in every direction the night before, and started my day.

The shower helped, but the coffee helped more. Brad was his usual, annoyingly chipper self, accompanied by the rest of the marketing team; Linda, Ron, and our trip boss, Kevin. They had already finished eating when I arrived, so I kept my breakfast to a minimum.

“Rough night?” Kevin asked.

“Not especially,” I said, not making eye contact.

Linda looked at me as if she knew something, but wanted to know more. I looked at her quizzically, and she nodded as if she understood that we’d talk later. I wasn’t sure what about. She probably knew more than I did. I still had no recollection of who the young stud was, or where I had met him.

Of everyone on our team, I was the only one no longer married. I was pretty sure Linda bounced between Ron and Kevin on these trips, and neither seemed to let on that they knew about her screwing the other. I never came out and asked her, but she would drop tidbits of information such as what brand underwear Kevin wore, or how she heard Ron shaved his balls before every trip. How would she hear that? And why did she need to share that with me? I wondered why she never gossiped about Brad, and realized he probably never flirted with her. She obviously never flirted with him. I wonder who his wife thought about while Brad made love to her.

While the rest of them were bar-hoppers, I usually stayed bahis firmaları local, drinking at the hotel bar until closing time, and then going straight back to my room – alone – as had been the practice while I was married.

After my divorce, Linda seemed to want to live vicariously through me, and would send guys my way to buy me drinks, ask me to dinner, or just come straight out and ask for a blow job.

“Flattered,” was my typical response.

I did take a few guys up on the dinner offer over the past five years. And… I did sleep with two or three of them. Nothing remarkable. Just casual sex. Rarely passionate. Most of them looked almost twice my age, so that probably had something to do with it. If they were nice, I’d give them a blowjob. If they were nice and cute, maybe more. The young stud in my bed this particular morning was definitely cute, but I couldn’t really tell if he had been nice to me.

“So, what happened last night?” Linda asked, keeping her voice down.

“I don’t remember,” I said quietly, obviously embarrassed. “I woke up with a young guy in my room this morning, we had sex, and then he left. I don’t even know his name.”

Linda squirmed in her seat next to me, barely able to control herself as the guest speaker was covering tier levels and posture strategies. I was afraid she was going to draw attention to us and shushed her. No use.

“Oh my God!” Linda was giddy. “That’s awesome! Did he have a big cock?”

“We’ll talk about it later, okay,” I said, aware that several men seated around us overheard the latter part of the conversation by this point.

“How many times did he fuck you?” Linda asked, not giving up.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “At least twice. And yes, he was handsomely equipped,” I said with a grin.

We’re going out again, tonight,” Linda said. “Ron and Kevin both have a case of the morals this trip, and I need some cock.”

I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure if I was more shocked that she admitted to sleeping with Ron and Kevin, finally, or that we had gone out the night before and I had no memory of it.

“Where did we go last night?” I asked.

“Later, right?” Linda said, practically dancing in her seat.

The hotel had an upscale spa, and I met Linda for a coworker discount. It wasn’t the first time she had seen me naked, and I could always count on her to compliment me, being a few years older than her and still being able to turn heads. She was attractive in her own way, though. Small boobs, but her butt was beautiful. I’d always let her know that if we ever decided to be into girls, I would love to bury my face in her ass. And, she’d laugh like she always did. It really was a nice butt, but that was the best thing she had going for her, unfortunately. She knew to play on her strengths, though.

“Seriously,” I started. “What did we do last night? I really can’t remember.”

“Seriously,” Linda answered. “We went to the hotel bar, you went to the bathroom, and never came back. I just assumed you went up to your room to call it a night, and forgot to tell me. I ended up wearing out the batteries in my vibrator.”

“Well, did I meet anyone at the bar?” I asked.

“You met a lot of guys,” Linda said. “After you took your panties off at the bar, I thought at least one of them would have been dying to come back to my room with me.”

“I did what?!?!” I asked, not believing what I was hearing.

“Some old guy bought you a drink, and then a young guy, and then a young cute guy. Huge. I would have let him fuck me in the ass, he was so hot,” Linda panted. “Did he fuck you in the ass?”

“I don’t think so,” I admitted, and then wondered. “There must have been something in one of the drinks.”

“Ya think?” Linda smiled. “I can’t say I remember you ever letting loose like that.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“First the panties, then the bra,” Linda said. “You took both off without showing anything like you had done it hundreds of times. Half the bar was hooting and hollering for you to take more off.”

“What was the other half doing?” I asked.

“Most of the other half was their dates or wives,” Linda grinned. “They were not happy.”

“And then I just disappeared?” I asked.

“You were letting most of the guys give you pecks on the cheek or a little squeeze of your butt, but that’s all I could see. I think one of them lifted up the back of your skirt to show everyone you didn’t have another thong on under there, but you swatted his hand away. I thought you were all show and no play,” Linda admitted. “I think I remember the guy that might have ended up in your room. He was really cute. Football player dumb, but very handsome. He looked a lot like Michael, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“No, I don’t mind,” I said. I really didn’t. I’d known Linda for almost ten years. I met her while I was still married, but she didn’t become a casual work friend until after I was divorced. I knew Linda had thought my son, Michael, was attractive. Now that he was in kaçak bahis siteleri college, I figured her infatuation was harmless.

Michael was the best looking boy in his high school, and the friends he had made in college were all good-looking guys. When he came home on the weekends during his first year of college, sometimes he brought a few friends from school with him. Provo wasn’t much of a party town, but there was always something to do within driving distance, whether it was hiking, skiing, or fishing. We had a big house on a few acres of land, so I welcomed the company. I have two spare bedrooms, so there was always plenty of room, and they were appreciative of the free place to stay for the weekend. They never brought any girls back to my house, they never appeared drunk, they never broke anything, and they changed the sheets and made the beds before they left on Sunday afternoons. I’d make them breakfast in the morning, and ask them about school, girlfriends, and anything else they’d like to talk about. I appreciated the eye candy, as Linda would call them, and any short-lived fantasies I had about any of them could be taken care of after they left.

Linda was over for coffee on one of our work holidays during one of the weekends the boys were “home” and she couldn’t take her eyes off of them. She had commented that they looked like they could have been models and hoped they weren’t gay. I told her that Michael always dated pretty girls, and from what I could tell, his friends did the same. I think that was enough to keep her fantasies about my son and his friends going for awhile.

Linda started timing her coffee visits on weekends when she knew my son and his college friends would be home, and started wearing more revealing clothing.

“Just teasing,” she had said. I reminded her that she was a married woman, and she reminded me that it was always okay to look.

“And just looking?” I’d asked.

“Unless one of them wants to do more,” Linda answered with a grin.

“You think they’d want to do more?” I’d asked.

“I know they do,” she assured me. “They probably look at you every time they’re here and wonder what you look like under your clothes. I bet one or more of them masturbates at night just thinking about you.”

“They’re half my age,” I explained. “They want girls their age, Linda.”

And, of course, as if to prove me wrong, the next time she was having coffee at the house, I caught one of the boys looking at her butt as she walked around the kitchen while she pretended to look for her favorite coffee mug. That was followed by another boy catching me looking at the first boy’s bulging crotch. The one that caught me was Michael. He just grinned, but didn’t say anything.

By his second year of college, Michael came home less frequently. Instead of at least every-other weekend, he’d come home once a month unless there was a three-day weekend. He seemed to date girls more steadily, and I wondered when he would start bringing one of his girlfriends home instead of his wanting-to-party guy friends.

Because I knew Linda enjoyed the eye candy more than me, I let her know whenever Michael was bringing friends home for the weekend. It made for an awkward moment when Michael pulled me aside one day and asked if I had turned lesbian because Linda was always at the house. I laughed and assured him I was still attracted to men, and so was Linda. I went on to explain why Linda happened to be at the house whenever he was home with his friends, which at first, embarrassed Michael, and then flattered him.

“We weren’t sure if she was dressing like that for you, or for us,” Michael said.

“All for you and your friends, I can assure you,” I said.

“She does have a nice butt,” Michael said.

“You should let her know,” I said mischievously. “It would make her day.”

I wasn’t sure if he ever did, but one of his friends said something one day that sent her into a fit of girlish giggles and laughter. I had left to find something in the garage. When I came back into the kitchen, I caught Linda retrieving her hand from crotch of the boy sitting on the breakfast stool next to her. I think her hand was actually up the leg of his shorts. She’d later tell me that he said he wasn’t wearing underwear, and that she didn’t believe him, so he let her check.

“His dick was soooo big, Jean,” Linda told me later. “And he wasn’t even hard, yet.”

“How does that conversation start?” I asked. She ignored the question.

“You need to wear sexier clothes at home,” Linda demanded.

“What? Why?” I asked. “I told you, I’m twice their age, and I’m not fooling around with any of my son’s friends.”

“Even if they’d like to fool around with you?” Linda teased.

“Which one?” I asked, mild curiosity becoming a little less mild.

“All of them!” Linda exclaimed. “I asked one of them if he was breaking girls’ heart back at school, stroked his ego a bit and let him know how attractive he was, and the next thing I know, he’s returning the favor. Did you know they love my butt?”

“Everyone loves your butt, Linda,” I said.

“Well, I think they’d like it if you loosened up a bit and flirted with them,” Linda said. “They’ve been checking you out, too.”

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