scouting and killing the big baddies.
But with me, he’s romantic. He knows I love roses, and never fails to surprise me with them, or other thoughtful gifts, when they’re least expected. He’s a keeper.
Jolene is still going on and on, but I ignore her, slip out of my frumpy clothes and hunt up something simple and sexy for my man.
A half hour later I’m out the door, heading to see Mr. Parker. Jolene gives me the third degree. Her suspicions grate on me, but I utter an easy lie, tell her I’m doing research in the library. I giggle to myself as I head down the stairs. Oh yeah, I’m going to do some research all right. It’s going to revolve around a fat cock, and how best to fuck.
In moments, I’m in my car, squirming on the seat, anticipation building as I leave campus and head toward the hotel. My panties are damp; just thinking about Mr. Parker makes me wet and hot.
It’s been almost two months since I last saw him and I’ve missed him more than I want to admit. Miss touching him. Fucking him. Hearing his deep, baritone voice. He sends shivers down my spine with each syllable he utters.
Out of everything, I miss his smell. Male musk, sweat, spicy cinnamon and Davidoff’s Cool W ater cologne. All of it together creates his distinctive scent.
When I pull into the Holiday Inn parking lot, I hardly give the car a moment to stop before I spring from my vehicle and head toward the lobby. I tell the lovely lady behind the counter that I’m visiting Mr. Parker and he’s expecting me.
Of course, she shoots me the “I-know-what-you’re-doing-naughty-girl” look and rings Joseph’s room. She must think I’m a pro. My dress is cut low on top and short at the bottom, showing off everything I’ve got to offer. I’ve topped off my dress with a black pair of “fuck me” boots. He loves these boots.
I’m dressed to be fucked. Hard and often. Hell yeah.
The woman bobs her head a few times while she converses with Mr. Parker, a fake smile stretched across her face. Her painted lips are fire engine red and slathered with generous dollops of lip gloss. She looks like she just drank a container of oil. I itch to snag a tissue and wipe her mouth. Ick.
“Mr. Parker is in room one-thirty-four. If you take the elevator to your left and get off on the second floor, it will be to your right next to the vending station.”
“Thank you.” I smile sweetly and lean closer to read her nametag. “Margaret. You’re a doll.”
I saunter to the elevator and do as directed, heels sinking into the thick carpet as I move toward Mr. Parker’s room.
I knock gently on the door. I’ve just struck the surface when he wrenches the door open, hauls me inside and then shoves it closed behind me. For a moment, all I can do is stare, frozen like a deer in headlights.
It’s obvious Mr. Parker just got out of the shower. Droplets of water cling to his chest, and he’s clad in a white towel. He’s darker now, tanned by Iraq’s sun. Leaner, too. New sinewy muscles have been revealed to me, and I can’t wait to discover them with my tongue. Mr. Parker is one hundred percent fuckably delicious. Mm-mm.
I lick my lips and jump on him, rip his towel from his hips and devour his mouth, our tongues twining while I search out the taste that’s come to mean more to me than breathing.
I wrap my legs around his waist, grasp his shoulders, and I distantly hear the hotel door thump close. We maul each other, tongues and teeth, hungry and greedy for each other.
God, I’ve missed him so much it hurts. In a few smooth moves, he undresses me, and then throws me naked into the middle of the mattress, body bouncing. My back hits the hotel sheets, cool surface contrasting with my heated body.
I spread my legs wide, pussy already wet and ready for his thick cock. Which he seems more than willing to give me. He strokes his stiff shaft, root to tip with a light squeeze just below the head. I know he likes that, loves it when I suck the soft
But with me, he’s romantic. He knows I love roses, and never fails to surprise me with them, or other thoughtful gifts, when they’re least expected. He’s a keeper.
Jolene is still going on and on, but I ignore her, slip out of my frumpy clothes and hunt up something simple and sexy for my man.
A half hour later I’m out the door, heading to see Mr. Parker. Jolene gives me the third degree. Her suspicions grate on me, but I utter an easy lie, tell her I’m doing research in the library. I giggle to myself as I head down the stairs. Oh yeah, I’m going to do some research all right. It’s going to revolve around a fat cock, and how best to fuck.
In moments, I’m in my car, squirming on the seat, anticipation building as I leave campus and head toward the hotel. My panties are damp; just thinking about Mr. Parker makes me wet and hot.
It’s been almost two months since I last saw him and I’ve missed him more than I want to admit. Miss touching him. Fucking him. Hearing his deep, baritone voice. He sends shivers down my spine with each syllable he utters.
Out of everything, I miss his smell. Male musk, sweat, spicy cinnamon and Davidoff’s Cool W ater cologne. All of it together creates his distinctive scent.
When I pull into the Holiday Inn parking lot, I hardly give the car a moment to stop before I spring from my vehicle and head toward the lobby. I tell the lovely lady behind the counter that I’m visiting Mr. Parker and he’s expecting me.
Of course, she shoots me the “I-know-what-you’re-doing-naughty-girl” look and rings Joseph’s room. She must think I’m a pro. My dress is cut low on top and short at the bottom, showing off everything I’ve got to offer. I’ve topped off my dress with a black pair of “fuck me” boots. He loves these boots.
I’m dressed to be fucked. Hard and often. Hell yeah.
The woman bobs her head a few times while she converses with Mr. Parker, a fake smile stretched across her face. Her painted lips are fire engine red and slathered with generous dollops of lip gloss. She looks like she just drank a container of oil. I itch to snag a tissue and wipe her mouth. Ick.
“Mr. Parker is in room one-thirty-four. If you take the elevator to your left and get off on the second floor, it will be to your right next to the vending station.”
“Thank you.” I smile sweetly and lean closer to read her nametag. “Margaret. You’re a doll.”
I saunter to the elevator and do as directed, heels sinking into the thick carpet as I move toward Mr. Parker’s room.
I knock gently on the door. I’ve just struck the surface when he wrenches the door open, hauls me inside and then shoves it closed behind me. For a moment, all I can do is stare, frozen like a deer in headlights.
It’s obvious Mr. Parker just got out of the shower. Droplets of water cling to his chest, and he’s clad in a white towel. He’s darker now, tanned by Iraq’s sun. Leaner, too. New sinewy muscles have been revealed to me, and I can’t wait to discover them with my tongue. Mr. Parker is one hundred percent fuckably delicious. Mm-mm.
I lick my lips and jump on him, rip his towel from his hips and devour his mouth, our tongues twining while I search out the taste that’s come to mean more to me than breathing.
I wrap my legs around his waist, grasp his shoulders, and I distantly hear the hotel door thump close. We maul each other, tongues and teeth, hungry and greedy for each other.
God, I’ve missed him so much it hurts. In a few smooth moves, he undresses me, and then throws me naked into the middle of the mattress, body bouncing. My back hits the hotel sheets, cool surface contrasting with my heated body.
I spread my legs wide, pussy already wet and ready for his thick cock. Which he seems more than willing to give me. He strokes his stiff shaft, root to tip with a light squeeze just below the head. I know he likes that, loves it when I suck the soft
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