Ken James Fiction
"Nervous?" Sonny Childers asked, stopping the Escalade in front of the Hyatt.
"Nah." I didn't sound too convincing. This was like the pre-game jitters, only a lot worse.
"Relax." Sony slapped my shoulder. "You'll be fine." He handed me a key card. "It's Suite 604. The private elevator is on the right. You'll have to use the key card."
"Thank you, sir."
"Uh-uh. Just call me 'Sonny.' And you don't need to thank me. We want you good and relaxed for the game tomorrow. It's been six years"
I mumbled something and got out. I'd only been to the Hyatt a few times, and the giant atrium was kind of intimidating for a small town boy. It was 8:00 p.m. and the only other person in the big room was a bored-looking clerk behind the counter. The faint sound of elevator music and the steady hum of conversation from the bar filled the air.
There were four elevators. Three had brushed steel doors. The door on the far right was gleaming copper—or maybe gold. I took the card out of my suit pocket and slipped it into the slot by the door. It opened almost silently.
Inside, the music was louder. There were only two buttons, labeled "Lobby" and "Penthouse." I chose "Penthouse."
The elevator stopped and I stepped out into a long hall with thick carpeting. Original oil paintings of Texas scenes decorated the walls. A half-dozen elaborately-carved doors stretched along each wall and there were double doors bearing the Presidential Seal at the far end of the hall.
The rooms had names, as well as numbers. Room 604 was halfway down the hall. The plaque over its door read "Spindletop." My heart was pounding and my stomach was tying itself into knots. I'd almost rather be facing a while squad of offensive linemen. I gathered my nerve and pressed the doorbell. I didn't hear any sound from inside, but the door opened after a few seconds.
The beautiful young lady carried herself with the easy assured grace of those born to wealth and sophistication. Even with my fresh haircut, barber shop shave, suit, tie, and polished shoes, I felt like an awkward kid.
Her filmy black dress clung to every curve of her tall athletic body. It was cut low in front and ended at mid-thigh, showing off her big breasts and long muscular legs. It was hard to keep looking at her face, rather than down her dress, but I managed. She had curly shoulder-length brown hair and a pretty country-girl face, with warm brown eyes and a mischievous smile.
While I was still trying to speak, she smiled. "Hello, Trav," she said in a carefully-modulated voice. "I'm Angela Hart. Please come in." She took my hand and led me into the suite. The door closed behind us with a nearly-silent click.
We walked through the small foyer into a living room larger than the one in my folks' house. The lights were low and soft music was playing.
The room's entire back wall was a floor-to-ceiling window. Angela took me to a love seat in front of the window.
Two glasses sat on the coffee table, beside a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. Angela smiled and squeezed my thigh, then turned to open the champagne. She bent forward, giving me an amazing view of her big firm breasts. I couldn't help staring.
Angela's eyes were sparkling and her smile was even warmer when she straightened up and handed me a glass. She didn't glance at my lap, but I knew she was aware of the immense bulge in my pants. "Don't be shy," she said. "I like it when the right guy looks at me."
"I like you," she said, kissing me full on the lips. Her kiss was long and tender, sweet and almost chaste, with a faint undercurrent of passion waiting for release.
She lifted her glass and said, "This is going to be a great night." Our glasses rang like high clear bells as we touched the rims together. The wine was both sweet and tart. Each sip dissolved into a rainbow of fizzing flavors on my tongue.
Her hip was warm against mine as we sat sipping champagne and looking at Conner spread out below us. It was surprisingly pretty, gleaming in the Texas night like multicolored jewels.
Pressed against her in the near-darkness, it was easy to answer Angela's soft questions about Conner High, Cougar football, the stress of being starting quarterback on the way to State, my future plans, and even the girls—and occasional women—I'd had in my up-and-coming football star years.
We'd finished our second glasses of champagne. "Am I talking too much?" I asked.
"No, I'm enjoying it," Angela answered dreamily. A Texas twang had slipped into her voice. "I live in Dallas and fly all over the world, trying to fit in with rich people. Still, I grew up in Abilene and I'm a small-town girl at heart. My brothers played football. I was a cheerleader and on the track team. Being here in Conner makes me feel like I'm back home.
"You make me feel like a regular girl with a regular boyfriend. Would it be too weird to do that? Just be real people? Tonight, I want to be your girlfriend." She flashed that wicked smile. "Your dirty girlfriend who'll do anything you want in bed. Is that all right?"
She rose to her feet and extended her hand. "Good. You can start by calling me 'Lee Ann.' It's my real name."
"All right, Lee Ann." She led me to the floor-to-ceiling window and turned to face me, wrapping her arms around my back and pressing her big soft breasts against my chest.
"I like a big man," she purred. I was 6'2" tall and weighed 200 muscular pounds, with sandy buzz-cut hair and blue eyes.
She lifted her face to mine for a kiss. And another. I gripped her butt cheeks and she ground her pussy against the stiff dick trapped in my pants as we kissed, hard with lots of tongue. She was only four inches shorter than me, with long muscular legs and tight buttocks. I hardly had to bend over to kiss her.
"Feel this." She guided my hand between her legs. The little scrap of red cloth covering her crotch was already damp. "See how hot you've gotten me."
I fingered her folds through the thin thong while she unzipped my slacks and took my cock and balls out of my boxers. It was wildly sexy standing there in my suit and tie as if dressed for church, with my stiff dick sticking straight up in the air.
Lee Ann liked it too. "He's so pretty," she cooed, wrapping one hand around my shaft while cupping my balls with the other. She ran her index finger over my cock-head, smearing the slick fluid that was already oozing from its tip. "Nice and big, the way I like it."
She sank to her knees and took my stiff rod in her mouth, clamping her lips around my coronal ring and caressing my cock-head with her tongue while stroking my shaft and fondling my balls.
We were six stories up and the room lights were dim, but it was still possible that someone could see us. That just got me more excited as Lee Ann bobbed up and down on my cock, going from deep-throating its full length to kissing its tip, occasionally pausing to lick and suck my balls while stroking my swollen shaft.
"This is my first real blow job." I didn't realize I'd spoken aloud until I saw Lee Ann looking up at me, managing to smile even with my dick in her mouth. "It's never felt this good, even with the girls who liked doing it."
"I love doing it, especially with you," she whispered. "Don't hold back. Give me everything. Be rough. I need it right now."
I did what she'd asked, feeling her long hair between my fingers as I gripped her head and fucked her face, carelessly using her. Girls didn't usually like that, but she was getting off on it. "Get ready, Country Girl!" I gasped as the tension built in my balls. "You're getting a hot load. Right down your throat."
The cum burst from my driving rod. She sucked frantically, swallowing every drop and keeping me spurting long after I should have been milked dry.
When my dick finally softened and slipped out of Lee Ann's mouth, she stayed on her knees, smiling smugly up at me, with a trace of milky fluid on her lips. She licked them and it disappeared.
I sank to my knees and kissed her, tasting my cum in her mouth. "That was great," she whispered. "I've got a stud boyfriend." She plastered her body against mine, flattening her soft breasts and pressing her pebble-hard nipples into my chest.
"And I've got the world's best girlfriend." I reached between her legs and felt her soaked thong. I pushed it aside and slipped a finger into her hot wet pussy.
"That's right," she purred. "Play with my snatch . . ."
Lee Ann smiled at my expression. "What? You never heard a girl say 'snatch' before?"
"Told you." Her smile grew wider. "I'm your dirty girlfriend." She growled softly and rocked her hips in time with my sliding finger. "With a hungry cunt."
I added a second finger and worked the pair in and out, curling them to stroke the little rough spot near her pussy mouth, while rubbing my thumb over her clit hood.
"Jeez!" Lee Ann moaned. "That feels so fucking good!" She closed her eyes and kneaded her breasts while I fingered her. Soon, she was screaming and her body was shaking. I wrapped my free arm around her back to keep her upright while I worked my fingers in her snatch, keeping her coming.
"That's enough." She took me in her arms and kissed me passionately. "You're a super-stud boyfriend. Not many guys can make me come like that." She pulled my dripping fingers out of her hot wet pussy and guided my hand to my mouth. I sucked my fingers, savoring her strong tart taste.
"You're an amazing woman. This feels like a dream." I laughed, a little self-consciously. "A wet dream."
"Well, I'm sure wet," she said. "And you're a dreamboat." She kissed me again, tenderly this time. "Where did you learn that? From a cheerleader?"
"Uh . . . She was a cheerleader a few years ago."
"Lucky lady!" Lee Ann stood up and held out her hand. I rose to my feet and took it.
"Come on." She led me across the room and down a short hall. "Let's go check out the bedroom."