Turkey Club Sandwiches
written by:
Just Plain Bob

Turkey Club Sandwiches As told to Just Plain Bob by Mrs. Hottbutt

Authors note: As a frequent poster to this site I am constantly receiving e-mails from readers asking me to "tell their story." Some I do (The Adventures of Kathleen M. and Becoming a Slut Wife: Christina the two most recent) but most of them I don't. But this one cried out to be done. It was sent to me and I was asked to turn it into a story that she could then send to her ex-husband in the hopes that it would piss him off. A quick read showed that this lady needed no help at all. I could not do it better than she did and to be honest, I doubt my meager talents could have done it near as well. I am posting it "as is", the only change being to add this note. Hopefully the comments will be such that they will inspire Mrs. Hottbutt to write more and become a regular contributor to the site.

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I began noticing him weeks ago. He came into the sandwich shop every day at 1:25 after most of the lunch crowd had dispersed. I would watch from the window as he came from the high-rise across the street. He always had a copy of some financial newspaper tucked under his arm. He wore an expensive suit and I surmised that he must be a financial consultant of some kind. He was maybe early forties, casually handsome, with a hint of gray at the temples. He had the most beautiful, piercing light-green eyes I had ever seen. On two different occasions our eyes had met and locked together, but both times ended quickly with his eye averting and his face flushing crimson. So I figured out that he was very shy.

He always ordered the turkey club without cheese and a soda. He would sit near the window and read his paper while he ate his lunch. He was always alone. He wore no wedding ring. His cell phone never rang and he never called anyone. He seemed oblivious to everyone and everything else around him. He would spend exactly 55 minutes in the sandwich shop. Then he'd clean his table, fold his paper and head out the door and across the street to his building.

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My fantasies of him began shortly after I learned his daily lunch routine. As I sat alone at my table across the room from him, I'd try to imagine how he kissed. I wondered what he looked like underneath all those expensive clothes, his cock hardened and ready. I wondered what those nicely manicured fingers would feel like stroking my nipples. I wondered how he would taste if I ever got his manhood inside my mouth. I wondered how he would sound moaning and groaning at the pleasure I could give him. I wondered how it would feel to have his throbbing dick deep inside my hungry pussy. I had mental pictures of him throwing me down onto the table, taking me fiercely, pushing my tight skirt to my waist, his expensive trousers undone just enough, his turkey club falling onto the floor.

I would watch him eat and read and I would imagine walking over to him, reaching down and taking hold of the bulge beneath his zipper. The more I fantasized about him, the more I wanted him and the more daring my fantasies became. I imagined him fucking me hard from behind, his tie brushing across my nude backside with each hard thrust. I imagined playing with my wet pussy, my fingers dipping in and out while he watched me. I imagined him spurting his hot cum all over my face and in my hair. I imagined his hot breath on my neck and my tits. I wanted this man. I needed this man. I had to have this man.

I began to look around for closets or private places to take him for a 55 minute lunch fucking session. I wanted him to forget that turkey clubs existed or that financial papers held any interest for him. I wanted his attention on my naked body. I wanted him fucking e anywhere and everywhere. I wanted his cock. In my hands. In my mouth. In my pussy.

And so every day my lunch ended the same; with soaked panties, a rapid heartbeat, and a new fantasy to add to my repertoire. The lust I felt for him grew and grew until I knew that I had to make some kind of move. But how did I do it? He was shy and I was shy. I couldn't just walk up to him and ask him to please take me right there on the table. And then one day I had a revelation. I suddenly knew that I had one way to get his attention.

I am an amateur photographer. I love taking nude photos of myself. I would take them often for my ex-husband and surprise him with them in emails. He had always told me that I had an ass to die for. And I had caught other men's eyes on my ass many times. So I knew that I would use my greatest ass-et to catch the attention of Mr. Turkey Club.

That day, I watched him cross the street as usual. He ordered his turkey club, sat down, unfolded his paper and began to read. I watched him take a couple of bites of his sandwich. He never even noticed me. I waited until he had 10 minutes left of his 55. Then I got up, cleaned my table, walked over to him and dropped a note onto his precious newspaper. It simply said, "E-mail me at the above address and I will send you a nude photo of myself." He looked up at me, shock apparent in his eyes, and I gave him my best sensual smile. He choked and began coughing, but quickly recovered. I made sure that he was all right and then I turned and exited the sandwich shop, swaying my hips as best I could.

He e-mailed me that night. I sent him several photos of my ass in the air. He must have liked them because the next day at lunch he asked if he could sit at my table.

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When he asked to sit at my table I almost fell out of my chair. Here was the man of my hottest fantasies close enough to touch. For weeks, during this daily lunch hour, I had secretly observed his every move and every part of his expensively clothed body. I felt my face flush to match the embarrassment I felt. I somehow stammered out a greeting and told him my name. I was sure that the fantasies of my guilty pleasures showed on my face. He must surely know the naughty things I had been thinking.

He made some small talk, but he never mentioned the nude photos I had sent him. Our lunch together was pleasant, but somewhat awkward. He was shy and nervous and I was melting each time his eyes met mine. It wasn't long until he finished his turkey club. I finished my salad and we finished our small talk. He let the awkward silence be his cue to take his leave. As he stood I almost panicked and found myself blurting out the question that had plagued me during the entire lunch, "Did you get the photos?"

With his face flushing yet again he leaned forward so that we were eye to eye and in the sexiest voice, low voice I had ever heard, he murmured that he did indeed get them and that it would be his fantasy to take some photos of me. His eyes held mine with a questioning look. I felt my eyes light up as something akin to fire swept through my veins. I suddenly KNEW that this was going to turn out great.

I invited him to my house for a photo session that weekend. I told him that I wasn't comfortable doing complete nudes right now, but that I would love for him to photograph me in some of my favorite lingerie. He heartily agreed.

The photo session was hotter than anything I could ever describe. Each click of his shutter brought my fantasies closer to reality. I had chosen lingerie that I thought would capture his attention and it wasn't long before his rapt attention was evident by the swelling hardness in his jeans.

As he was suggesting different poses I found my pussy reacting to the excitement. My nipples were firm and erect. I found myself so turned on as I watched him watch me. My poses got more daring. The air was charged with my desire for him. I was doing all I could to seduce him. I took off more clothing than I had planned to. I flirted with my eyes. I pouted with my lips. I invited him with my ass in the air. And soon, he accepted that invitation.

Finally, it was if he could take it no more. He flung the camera onto the sofa and walked over to me. He boldly took me into his arms and began kissing me very passionately. My pussy had already been wet for ages already and when I felt him touch me there I heard low moans escape his throat and mine.

I couldn't keep my hands still. They were exploring every place on him that I could reach. His hands were doing the same to me. His tongue was exploring my mouth, darting in and out and around my tongue. He kissed up and down my neck as I threw my head back. He moved down to my breasts and with his fingers clamped on one nipple he sucked and tweaked the other with his tongue. I was ecstatic. In between my quickened breaths I tried to comprehend if this was really happening. My body reacted to everything he did. I was shaking with such a deep desire for his body.

I somehow took his hand and led him to my bedroom. We fell on the bed and quickly managed to get his clothes off. When I saw his cock and took it in my hands a thrilling shiver went through me like electricity. It looked so beautiful and it felt so good to finally have it in my hands. It was better than any of the fantasies that I had entertained.

With his cock in my hands I moved my mouth closer. I used both hands and my mouth and made love to his cock for the longest time. I would lick up and down the shaft and tease around the tip of it with my tongue while I was massaging his balls. Then I would suck and move my mouth as far down him as I could. Then I would lick all over his balls. I did all these things over and over until I didn't think he could take it any longer. I cannot say how wonderful his cock looked and tasted and felt. It was better than anything I had fantasized.

Soon he threw me back on the bed and moved his head downward and his tongue slowly traveled down my tummy to my hairless mound. I was still shaking and my pussy was dripping wet. When he touched his tongue ever so softly I thought I would die. I could not keep still. He had me squirming and writhing all over the bed. He ate my pussy as if it were the richest meal he had ever had. His tongue treated it like a treasure. He would dip his finger inside my soaking pussy while he flicked his tongue across my clit. It was a very short time before I was screaming out his name and moaning in the strongest, shuddering orgasm I had ever experienced. He let me rest a moment or two and then he went at me again. I remember wrapping my legs around his head and holding him tight while he licked me quickly to another orgasm.

By then I was spent. But I wasn't through with him. I reached down and kissed his mouth and begged him to fuck me. I had to have his beautiful rock-hard cock inside me. I had to feel him thrusting it into me. My pussy was hungry and ready for it. And so I begged him to fuck me. He threw me roughly back on the bed and jumped on top of me. The first instant that his cock entered my soft, wet pussy I thought I would die. He entered me slowly at first while he kissed me passionately. Then he began moving in and out of me faster and faster. It wasn't long until he was pounding his throbbing dick hard into my pussy. I came again quickly, uttering words to him that now embarrass me.

After I had climaxed he continued his pounding into me and when he finally tensed and groaned and released his hot spurting cum into me it was the hottest, most beautiful moment and it was as if he claimed me right then. I was his.

We lay still and quiet for the longest time. I tried to recount in my mind everything that had just happened. All I knew is that my idea of shy guys had changed forever.