Chapter 8

When Mitch and Steve made it back with the bottle of Bourbon, Jo Anne was almost asleep. I had a hard time believing that her orgasm was as intense as it seemed to be. She was absolutely out of it. The three of us finished our drinks, then Marty and I helped get Jo Anne into the elevator. Marty went down with them to open the car door, while I went back to our room.

Yes, when Marty returned, I was wearing a big smile knowing what I had done. I knew exactly how men felt when they were successful in seducing a beautiful woman. I don't think the feeling of sexual conquest is limited to one sex. Of course, I had never had that thought before. Sure there has always been the older woman preying on the younger men, thing going on. It seemed that I wasn't quite the stereotypical female sexual predator type after all. I didn't get off on younger men. No, for me it was the unattainable man or woman who tripped my trigger. Oh sure, there was the occasional scratch my itch screw, but I did prefer the big score.

When Marty came back into the room, I was just drunk enough and just aroused enough to consider man rape. I was pretty sure that I would not need my pistol, but hell, I was about ready for that as well. If I acted logically all the time, I would be the only human being in the world who did. I knew that if I went through with screwing Marty, things would never be the same again, but I really didn't give a shit at that moment.

I did let him get the door closed before I closed in on him. Now Marty at the time was a robust 68 year old man. He had beautiful white hair and a reasonably fit body. His main problem sexually was a lowered testosterone level. Age typically does that, I'm told.

Being the true bisexual woman that I am, I kissed Marty using just as much tongue as I had used on the forty year younger Jo Anne. It didn't have quite the same effect, but it was close. I expect Jo Anne was getting laid more often than Marty, so maybe their arousal threshold was close after all. Regardless of the reason, Marty turned right on. I could feel his erection press hard against my soft belly.

My breasts were still sensitive from the arousal I had felt with Jo Anne. When I followed Marty to the bed, kissing him all the while, I could feel the slippery moisture between my thighs. I had lubricated again. I expected the lubricant to be of some use this time.

I worked on Marty's clothes before he sat on the bed. I had his shirt open and his pants unbuttoned, before he dropped to the edge of the bed. I felt his penis in my hand. His penis was just an average size, but that was plenty. This obsession with size among men baffles me. Most of the feeling, in my vagina at least, is at the front. One size feels as good as another at that point. The small additional feelings from an over sized prick are usually somewhat uncomfortable. Maybe some women experience it differently; I'm just explaining how I feel.

Marty's erection just stayed at the almost hard enough to screw, but not quite, point. I knew from some of the other men I had been with over the years that his cock would just fold up at its current state of arousal. I knew Marty was turned on; his penis just wasn't quite hard enough. I didn't give it a second thought as I lowered my head to capture his penis in my mouth.

I began to nurse on the head of his penis as a child nurses on his mother's nipple. I sucked demandingly on it and used the flat of my tongue to massage it. Children mash their mother's nipple with their tongue to express the milk. I did the same with Marty's penis. It took a long time but eventually I felt him stiffen and then begin to drive his penis toward my throat. I was still protective of my throat, so I moved my mouth up and own his shaft, all the while keeping pressure on the head of his penis. I felt him stiffen and knew he was ready. I prepared myself for his semen by relaxing my throat to make it easier to swallow it. When it came it was warm and sticky. Semen covers and coats everything it touches. Some women find that annoying, I find it an excuse for a really stiff drink. By the time I finished that stiff drink, Marty, bless him, was breathing deeply.

My body was screaming for release. I know with women it is supposed to be emotional, but now and then it is purely physical. That was one of those times. I needed a cock and didn't really care whose it was. It was probably a good thing that everything was closed. I really didn't want to walk the street or go knocking on doors, so I began looking for something to substitute for cock.

I found it in Marty's flashlight. While Marty slept peacefully beside me, I used the flashlight for something I doubt the manufacturer covered in his directions. I was already lubricated, so it took very little additional stimulation to dilate my muscles enough to work the slightly larger flashlight inside me. My public bone had to move just a little to fit the light inside, but I went slowly until I had four or five inches inside. At that point I began to move it in and out. I stopped every few strokes to massage my clit.

I was so high that when I saw Marty watching me, I had a screaming orgasm for him to watch. My muscles clamped painfully around the hard plastic flashlight. I felt as though I was screaming, but I don't think the noise was as loud as I imagined. I know it sent my nervous system into overload. I lay on the bed shaking, unable to regain control of myself. I was in awful shape when Marty bent over and kissed me. He wrapped me in his arms and held me until I regained control.

"Do you want me to take it out?" he asked. He was referring to the flashlight still embedded in my vagina.

"No, I better do it." I expected it to hurt coming out. I was surprised to find that my muscles had dilated enough so that it easily slipped out. I sighed deeply and then just fell sound asleep with no warning. I have no idea what Marty did at that point.

When I awoke the next morning, Marty was gone. I was just as glad, I really did not want to have a conversation with any of them. Morning after conversations are always the pits. People are either embarrassed or strutting around like barnyard roosters, both are a pain in my opinion.

I walked down to the dining room and had a large breakfast. After breakfast, I went for a long run on the beach. I had been living the good life for a couple of days and felt guilty about it. Since I had bought a new pair of jeans, I had cut my last pair off for shorts. Why not, we were going to be leaving the next day. There wasn't room in the trailer for extra clothes, so it was wear them and toss them. I really didn't mind since they were just Wal-Mart jeans at ten bucks a pop. Even better was the fact that I wasn't paying for them.

After my run, I sat around the pool for a while, but I was quickly getting bored with the families there. Since it was Saturday, it was even worse than usual. All those guys who were in town on business were not working, so they were sitting around hitting on every woman out there. It was just a matter of time before one of the women came running back with her linebacker husband. That might be worth hanging around to see, but even that was likely to be nothing but posturing. You know one of those "I'll kick your ass ... No, damn it, I'll kick your ass..." back and forth, until someone comes along to give them a way out. Men are so predictable. Well, they are until they aren't and then someone dies.