A few years ago, I got a phone call from an old girlfriend, who said she was in town and wondered if I’d like to have a drink. I suggested the Melrose in Dallas, where my firm also kept a suite.
Over drinks she confided that she’d recently divorced. Her husband was gay, it seems, and she hadn’t had a decent fuck in years. “I’ve forgotten how to climax. It’s very frustrating. I’ve tried with several different people, and nothing seems to work.”
“Does my naughty Mississippi Mudhound (pet name) need Daddy to shake her button?”
“You always did it so well.”
“What if I told you I have a room at the top of those elevators?”
“I was hoping you would.”
I took care of the check, and we climbed in the elevator. We practically stripped each other’s clothes off, necking, groping, fondling, all the way up.
Kristi had a really large clit, that she liked to have handled roughly. I started spanking and cursing, and grunting while I jacked off her girl cock. “Look at your big fat clit! Oh, I’m gonna rub that fucking acorn so hard!” Her nipples were soooo stiff, and a puddle of cunt juice started to form on the sheets.
I finally began to push my index finger up her hood, while I shook my other hand in her pudding. I thought she was having an epileptic fit, when her legs went stiff and she started wailing. The drought was over.