GIRL 18
SEX GODDESS BANKER GIRL
My experience began to pile up with divorced women who accused their husbands of being lunatics.
Case in point: Sex Goddess Banker Girl. She was certain her husband,
while brilliant, was a complete abusive jackass. When I asked what he
did, it amounted to him demanding more sex than she had been willing to
provide. Not a good sign.
But the woman was gorgeous. On the first date, she wore a
microminiskirt, but underneath she wore large white cotton panties. I
felt like a sixth grader feeling her from the outside of them,
particularly when she slapped my hand away when I tried to snake a
finger under them.
I figured that was it for us, but she called me back and asked for a
rematch. At dinner, she confessed that she wasn’t 47 at all, but 53. I
may have flinched, which was certainly part of the later shenanigans.
I’m sure part of the reason for our failed hook-up was her arrogance.
She kept telling me that once I fucked her, no other woman would ever
enter my mind.
Right.
No one has a pussy – or mouth or asshole, for that matter – that can do
that. It’s all personality, baby. And hers I had issues with. Any woman
who would say the things she did about her husband and about her own
sexual prowess did not have the maturity to hang with me, and the lying
about her age hardly helped.
We sat on my couch at the Snake Ranch and sipped merlot, and I waited
for the clock to run out. Finally she glanced at her watch, then at the
front door, then back toward the bedroom door. She was making a blatant
evaluation of whether she should fuck me, I thought, half hoping she’d
choose the front door. Instead, all of a sudden, she stood, dropped her
clothes to the floor, put her long fingers into my belt and pulled me
to my feet. After she took down my pants, sank to her knees and began
sucking me, I figured, okay, fine. Men are so easy to date rape.
We adjourned to the bedroom, and I was starting to get enthusiastic about seeing if this woman were the most fantastic female on the planet, as she insisted she was. I inserted a finger into her vagina, and she immediately issued this half-grunt, half-moan, sounding more like a female rhino with indigestion than a woman in heat. I pulled my finger out, the engineer in me thinking I’d done it wrong. But when I shoved it back in, she made the grunt again. No doubt about it, she really thought that was a sexy sound.
There was nothing else to do. I had to shut her up and keep that scary grunt from happening again, because the first two of them took me from rock hard to semi-erect. I did the only logical thing. I shoved my penis down her throat, her rhino noises choking on it. Doubly good, as the grunting ceased and my hardon came back. But that could only go on so long, I thought. I threw her on her back and started fucking her, but we got the rhino again. So I flipped her onto her knees and pushed her head down to the mattress to muffle her sounds. Much better. I was thrusting happily away when she actually turned her head, Exorcist style, and said the words.
"You’re not very good in bed, you know that, don’t you?"
I froze.
"What did you say?"
She said it again, to my disbelief. "You’re not very good in bed."
I don’t remember making a conscious decision. Perhaps it was the supreme being’s possession of me that picked that moment to kick in. I could see it being his way of teaching her a lesson. Or maybe it was my traitorous penis, Tyrannosaurs Rex, trying to make a point. Whatever the reason, I pulled my penis out of her vagina, and with no preparation at all, shoved it as hard and as deep into her asshole as my 205 pound frame would allow, flattening her from her doggy-style kneeling position all the way to the mattress.
If I thought the rhino grunt was bad, I had no idea what the rhino howl would sound like. She screamed louder than I thought possible. My ears rang for a solid day afterward.
Although I have to say, what a compliment it is when a woman screams when she meets Rex. As I’ve always said, the highest compliment a woman can utter to a man is the word "ouch." And this compliment was at full volume.
But despite her payment of her respects to Rex, I had to continue with her lesson. I reached for a handful of her gorgeous brunette hair and pulled hard until she stopped screaming and her head turned, her eyes bulging upward at me. I looked at her and said as lovingly as I could:
"Sex Goddess Banker Girl, this just isn’t working for me. You need to get your clothes and get out."
A dreadfully evil expression took over her features. If I were possessed by the holy one, at that moment it would be easy to convince me that she was possessed by the unholy one, Lucifer himself.
"I’ll be happy to, as soon as you pull your cock out of my asshole."
I didn’t waste any more time. When I withdrew, it sounded like a cork pulled out of a bottle.
It took less than six seconds for the front door to slam. Dear God, the woman had to be outside naked to have gotten out that fast.
When I returned to the bedroom from the bathroom, after washing the traces of girl off my cock, I noticed the supreme being sitting on the wooden chair in my bedroom, lighting what looked like a Cohiba cigar.
"You can’t smoke in here," I said. "It’s a condition of the lease."
"Landlord will understand," he said.
I shrugged. "Got another one of those?"
He shook his head. "You can take a hit of mine." I took a few puffs, the room filling with mellow smoke, then handed it back.
"Are you mad at me for ‘jumping the curb’ ?" I asked the supreme being.
"Jumping the curb?" he snickered. "That’s a good one. I haven’t heard that."
"Answer the question," I frowned.
"Sorry," he said. "No, I’m not mad. Besides, you didn’t do that to her. I did it to her."
"Really?" That was odd. Usually when he did something using me, I had only the dimmest memories of it, if any memory at all. But this felt like I’d done it. "Why did you do it?"
"She needed it," he said.
"How do you figure?"
"Do you always ask questions you know the answer to?"
I paused, a little stung, but then I realized he was right. Then something occurred to me.
"Just like you do," I said.
He smiled. "So," he said, "you like nurses?"
"Aren’t they right up there with strippers and hookers on the sexual temperature scale?"
"Let’s find out."
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