Nob (Hill) Gobbler
written by:
ISawYourMommy

Dan sat at a broad, round table a few steps from the lobby bar, a vodka-and-tonic set before him. Perspiration beaded the sides of the tumbler and soaked the napkin on which it sat. The ice was almost melted, yet the glass was full.

Next to it was Dan's Blackberry. A thin, black wire connected the device to his ear. "I understand that, John. That was exactly the point I raised yesterday morning before you told me to hop a plane out here. The infrastructure simply won't work as it's currently configured. Right now, I should be in Chicago, waiting for that to happen. Next week is when I should be out here doing what you sent me out here to do today and tomorrow."

Dan paused as John, his immediate supervisor, responded. He had been talking for ten minutes, relaying the day's events to John. Dan's eyes fell on his drink. He picked it up and took a sip, almost sighing as the icy liquid slid down his throat, and cast his eyes around the Fairmont's lounge as he listened to John speak.

A few after-work drinkers, probably hotel patrons, stood around the bar. A couple - tourists, by the look of them - sat four or five tables over. An attractive woman in business attire at a table to his right, a wine glass in one hand, was reading a thick document. Two guys in suits who appeared in deep conversation were off to his left. He could hear two thirty-something women gabbing behind him. Without looking, he knew they were dressed in black, sipping Cosmopolitans. He put his drink, now almost half gone, back on the table, and signaled the waitress for another.

"I hear you, John. Mary told me they'd have it worked out by noon tomorrow, so I'm going to hole up here, try to get some work done, and I'll call her then and see if she was right. If they do, I can get started. If not, and it looks like it'll take a few days, I'm outta here. I have too much going on in Chicago to fuck around here for a week." Dan downed the rest of his drink as John again responded.

"All right, Johnny. I know I'm new at this, but I understand it and I know what I'm doing. I'll keep you posted. Oh, and my dinner's on you tonight . . . I was thinking Boboquivari's." Dan disconnected the call and pulled the bud from his ear as the waiter dropped off another vodka-and-tonic.

"You could be in worse places than San Francisco in April, you know."

Dan looked up to see the woman a table over smiling at him over the rim of a wineglass. He remained silent for a moment, and then allowed himself to smile back. "I'm sure. I've been in Minneapolis in January."

Swallowing, the woman chuckled and brushed long, blonde hair from her face. "Forgive me for eavesdropping, but I couldn't help but overhear you say you'd rather be in Chicago."

"Not at all. That's what I get for talking in public."

"It just caught my ear because I'm from Chicago."

"Really? So am I. I kinda got stuck out here for a few days." Dan paused, and nodded at the Blackberry sitting silently on the table. "In case you couldn't figure that one out."

Her pink lips parted and emitted a soft laugh. Her baby blue eyes sparkled when she did that.

"So, you're from Chicago, too. What brings you to San Francisco?" Dan inquired, as they each took pulls from their drinks.

"Work. I'm a lawyer, and I've got a big client here in San Francisco, so I get out here every month or so for a few days."

The conversation lulled for a moment. Dan rose. "Forgive me," he said, taking a step toward the woman's table and extending his hand. "I should have introduced myself. I'm Dan."

"Barbara," she said, taking Dan's hand in hers. It was soft and warm. As he pulled his hand back, the tips of her nails dragged along his palm, sending a shiver up his spine. As Dan retreated to his table, she offered, "Join me for a drink, if you'd like."

"Ah, sure, but just one. I've got to get some work done tonight. I must have fifty unread e-mails on this thing," he said, picking the Blackberry up from his table and sitting across from her.

Barbara momentarily pulled her own Blackberry. "There's no escaping these things. They're great when you want to communicate, but awful when you want to get away."

"You're preaching to the choir."

As Dan finished his drink and ordered another, he and Barbara made small talk. Every five minutes or so, Barbara brushed her lustrous hair from her face. She always used her left hand, flashing her engagement and wedding rings at him.

After about thirty minutes, he looked at his watch and then back at her. "Well, Barbara, I better get up to my room. I need to do a few hours of work and then maybe get some dinner later." He rose, and Barbara offered her hand.

"Pleasure to meet you, Dan," she said, a broad smile crossing her features as Dan took her hand.

"It was all mine. Maybe I'll see you around."

"Perhaps you will."

Dan left her, and went to the bar to close his tab, making sure the bartender put Barbara's drinks on it. With a slight wave to her, he left the lounge and took the elevator up to his room. He pulled the tie from around his neck and draped his suit coat over a chair. Hooking his laptop up to the room's communications gear, Dan logged onto his company's network and buried himself in work for a few hours.

Around 10:00, he yawned and stretched. His stomach rumbled, and he pulled the hotel guide from a drawer, thinking of ordering room service. Before he even found the menu page, however, he slammed the guide shut. When you travel enough, room service - no matter the hotel - becomes very unappetizing.

Dan threw his suit coat back on, left the hotel room and took the elevator down to the lobby. Passing by the lobby lounge, he saw Barbara still sitting and reading. He took a quick detour and stopped by her table.

"Still here, huh?" he said, approaching her table.

Barbara looked up, startled at his voice. That wonderful smile again crossed her lips, and she slipped the reading glasses from her face. "Actually, I'm back. I grabbed a bite to eat just down Mason Street."

"Well, that's too bad," Dan responded. "I was hoping you might join me for dinner."

"Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie. I would have loved to have joined you." Barbara paused, then continued. "Probably better anyway, Dan."

"And why is that?"

Barbara looked around, then back at him. "Well," she began in a stage whisper, "I'm old enough to be your mother, for one thing. And for another," Barbara wiggled the fingers of her left hand in front of her, "I'm married." Barbara sat back, placing one of the stems of her glasses between her teeth, lightly biting it, her shiny pink lips closing around it.

Dan laughed. "Well, in that case, maybe I should leave you," he played along.

"Oh, please don't," Barbara pleaded, leaning forward. "I was just playing. Sit with me. You can order something here." Innocence radiated from her beautiful face, and kept Dan rooted to where he was.

"Sure. Why not?" He pulled out a chair and slid in across the table from her. The waiter arrived and took Dan's drink order, leaving a menu. Barbara put her reading materials away and discreetly slipped her glasses into a pocket of her briefcase. By the time his meal arrived, Dan and Barbara were chatting amiably.

"You seem to have relaxed from when I first met you this afternoon, Barbara," Dan commented, pushing his plate away and wiping his face with the linen napkin.

"I have," she said, flashing a brilliant smile. "My mind's not on work anymore."

"Well, that's good."

"Mmm-hmm. Thank you," Barbara offered, bringing the wine glass to her soft lips.

"'Thank you'? Why are you thanking me?"

"It's just relaxing being around you. You remind me of my son's friends," she responded, setting her wine glass back on the table. Her pink manicured nails twirled the stem of the glass around.

Dan groaned and turned red. "Thanks, Barbara. Had to remind me of my youth, didn't you?"

Barbara laughed, coughing on her wine. "What? I'm the old one here. What are you getting embarrassed about?"

"Oh, come on, Barbara. Old? Look, I don't know how old you are and I'm not asking--"

"Forty-three," she interrupted.

"What? Forty-three. Please! I thought you said you were old enough to be my mom."

"Well, I don't know," she laughed. "For all I know you're a college boy."

"Right. In this suit, in the lounge at the Fairmont on Nob Hill. Whatever. Anyway, no matter your age, you shouldn't complain. You look better than most women ten years younger than you."

Barbara blushed. "Thanks. I know. Well, that's not what I meant, I just know . . . well, I take care of myself so . . ."

"Right. Don't worry about it Barbara. I can tell you take care of yourself. In fact, if you weren't flashing that ring at me every few minutes, I might consider picking you up."

"Picking me up? Really, Dan. You might consider hitting on me, but it is I who determines if I get picked up. And, as you noted." She again flashed her rings in Dan's direction.

He only laughed. "Point taken, Barbara."

"Really, call me Barb. My friends call me Barb."

"Your friends, huh? But I thought I reminded you of your son's friends?"

"True, but you can still call me Barb if you want." Barbara paused for a moment. "Excuse me for a moment. Seems that I need to use the ladies room," she said, rising from her seat. "Be right back."

Dan watched as she walked away. It was his first view of her out of the chair she had been sitting in. She was shorter than he had thought, maybe five-and-a-half feet tall. Now that her back was to him, he could see that her long blonde tresses hung straight, falling a few inches below her shoulder blades. Her proportioned bottom swayed from side to side as she weaved through the tables toward the restrooms. Her bare, tanned legs stood atop conservative black heels. She was clearly comfortable in them: she moved with an easy grace.

Dan's attention returned to his drink as Barbara turned the corner out of his sight. The waiter returned, and Dan took the liberty of having their drinks refreshed. Barbara returned a few minutes later, and he watched her approach.

Sexy wasn't the right word. Beautiful worked, but was too general, too broad. Wholesome, maybe? Scrubbed? Trimmed eyebrows separated a high forehead and arched elegantly over sparkling, baby blue eyes. A proportioned, trim nose pointed down toward pink shiny lips that were almost, but not quite, puffy. So, beautiful? Yes, but very Midwestern, very girl-next-door.

As she sat, Barbara tucked her black silk skirt beneath her bottom. Though Dan's eyes searched, a black silk chemise topped by a pink cashmere cardigan sweater prevented him from discerning the size of her breasts. A strand of pearls was draped around her neck, matching a smaller strand on her right wrist. When he looked back to her face, an odd smile formed on her lips, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

"I ordered you another drink," Dan said, nodding his head at the full glass of chardonnay. "I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not." Barbara brought the glass to her supple lips and allowed some of the golden fluid to flow into her mouth. "So, I'm sorry. Where were we?"

"You were telling me to call you Barb instead of Barbara."

"Ah. Yes. That's right."

"So tell me, do you let your son's friends call you Barb?"

"No, but you're different. We don't really know each other, and we're just here having drinks, so we can have fun with it."

"Well, what do your son's friends call you?" Dan took a long drink from the tumbler as he awaited Barbara's answer.

"What do they call me? They call me Mrs. Erickson. If you wanted to be one of my son's friends, you'd call me Mrs. Erickson."

"'If you wanted to be one of my son's friends'? What does that mean?"

"Just . . . nothing." Barbara fidgeted a little in her seat, her elegant hands again twirling the wine glass around on its base. "Just that you can call me Barb, or you can call me Mrs. Erickson. It just depends on whether you're my friend, or my son's friend."

"What do you want me to call you?"

"Whatever you want. It doesn't matter to me."

Dan paused. "You really don't care what I call you?"

"Not at all," she responded, meeting his gaze.

"Sure?"

"Sure," she said with a curt nod, before bringing the glass to her lips again. The ring on her left finger sparkled in the dim light of the lounge.

Dan smiled. "You're showing me your ring again. Warning me?"

"What? No. Sorry. There's nothing to warn you about, is there? I'm a married woman, and you're young enough to be my son's friend. Well, almost young enough."

"Okay. So, even though you don't care what I call you, what do you think I SHOULD call you?"

Barbara pondered the question as she discreetly swirled the chardonnay in her mouth before swallowing. "It depends, I guess."

"On what?"

Her eyes wandered around the lounge before settling back on Dan. "On how you want me to look at you."

"I don't know what you mean by that."

"Well, my friends are all women," she began slowly. "So, if you want me to look at you like I look at them, then you should be my friend."

Dan merely nodded, and took another pull of his vodka-and-tonic. "And?"

"And if you want me to look at you like you're a young man instead of a woman, then you should be my son's friend."

Dan was enjoying this game. He hoped Barbara was, too. "Which do you think I'd like better?"

"Again, that depends."

Dan smiled. "Are you sure you're a lawyer?"

She laughed. "Yes." Dan loved her laugh; it was so soft and graceful and pure.

"So, it depends on what?"

Barbara took a long pull on her wine now, and finished the glass. "It depends on whether you would like to sit here all night and have a few drinks while we talk." She signaled to the waiter, who quickly arrived. "Vodka martini, please."

As the waiter went off, Dan continued: "And if that is what I want, to sit here all night and have a few drinks?"

"Friend." Another curt nod. "Definitely friend."

"All right. And what does that get me?"

Barbara looked perplexed. "What does it get you? Well, good company for a few hours, of course. And then, in the morning, a headache and a dry mouth, I would think."

"Well, I suppose I like the good company part, but I'm not so sure about the headache and cotton-mouth." Dan finished his drink just as Barbara's martini arrived. "Sorry, could you bring me another Ketel-and-tonic?"

"Of course, sir."

After the waiter left, Barbara replied, "If you don't want the hangover in the morning, then perhaps friend is not the best choice for you."

"You might be right." Dan paused and looked around the room. Returning his gaze to Barbara, he continued, "So what if I also don't want to sit here all night and gab? What then?"

"Well, like I said, it might work out better for you if you're not my friend. It might be better if you're my son's friend." A shrug of the shoulders, as if to say, 'The choice is yours.'

"Why?"

"Well, you wouldn't have that hangover in the morning, for one thing," she responded, arching her trimmed eyebrows. Dan noticed that her eyebrows matched her hair - blonde - and wondered whether she was a natural blonde, or had simply obtained a thorough dye-job.

"True. I don't like hangovers, so that's nice."

"Yes, it is. Plus, you wouldn't have to sit here all night."

"Well, that part I don't mind so much, the good company part." The waiter returned with Dan's drink. "Thanks."

"Hmm. I see," Barbara said when the waiter had again left them. "I guess you could still have the good company part without having to sit here all night." She was looking at her hands, resting on the table. The pink nails of her right hand fiddled with the ring on her left. She turned the diamond so that it was facing her palm, seemed to consider it for a moment, and then turned it back.

"Really? How would that work? What would I have to do?"

"You could signal the waiter over here, I suppose," she said, tilting her head toward the departing waiter.

"But he just left. He might get a little upset with us."

"I doubt he'll get upset with me. Maybe with you, but not with me. But anyway, just leave him a big tip when you close your tab. That'll keep him happy."

"Okay." Dan raised his arm and caught the attention of the waiter, who nodded. Dan returned his attention to Barbara. "All right, if I signaled the waiter, what would I do after that?"

"You might consider asking him for the tab for our table."

Nodding, Dan caught the waiter's eye again, and gave him the universal 'bring the check' hand signal. "You know, I think I might rather sit here and talk to you all night. Maybe I should backtrack here and choose the other option. You know, be your friend instead of one of your son's friends. What do you think?"

"I think you should maybe give this option a chance. See what happens," Barbara said with a gleam in her eye. Dan heard a soft knock below the table. Subtly casting his eyes downward, he saw that one of Barbara's heels had fallen from a foot to the marble floor below.

"I don't know. It seems that if I follow this choice, you might be patting me on the head and sending me home soon."

Barbara laughed and took a sip of her martini. "Well, you never know," she said, swallowing. "But trust me here. Just wait and see how this plays out." Dan felt a whisper of fabric brush against his leg, and saw a cute, bare foot brush lightly against him. He swallowed.

"If you say so. I'll give you a little room here. After all, you know yourself better than I do."

When the waiter returned with his tab, Dan signed it and left him a forty percent tip. Showing it to Barbara, he raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Enough?" he asked.

"Sure, that'll do." Barbara looked up at the waiter with her baby blue eyes. "Sorry we had you running back and forth." Her foot traced a lazy line up the inside of Dan's left leg as she spoke.

"No problem, ma'am. Have a good evening."

"You as well," Barbara said, smiling, as the waiter departed once again.

"All right. So I want to be your son's friend, and I've called the waiter over and taken care of the bill." Dan paused, involuntarily, when Barbara's pink-pedicured toes lightly grazed over his groin. "What now? Why is this better than being your friend?"

"Hmm. I guess its not." Barbara frowned, but then her pretty face brightened. She pressed the bottom of her foot firmly against Dan's straining cock, causing him to groan deep in his throat. "At least not yet. But maybe, if you followed me out of the lounge. Maybe then it might be better."

"Really? How so?" Dan squeaked, as Barbara removed her foot from him.

"How so? Well, if you followed me, I might lead you back to my room for an after-dinner drink," she responded in a sultry voice, rising to her feet.

"Hmm. But couldn't I have been invited back there as your friend?" Dan asked, looking up at her, the feigned confusion exaggerated both on his face and in his voice.

"You know, you're right," she said, placing a hand on her trim hip, staring off at nothing, before returning her gaze to him. "I never thought of that. I guess you could have."

"So why, then, do I want to be your son's friend instead of just your friend." Dan poured the rest of the vodka down his throat.

"Aaahhh," Barbara said, a smile quickly spreading across her face. "I see where you're confused, sweetie." She bent over him, cupping his cheek. Her scent wafted through his nose.

"You do?"

"Sure," she said, smoothing the back of her hand over Dan's cheek, bending over further toward him. "If you're my friend, I'd show you my suite and we might have a glass of wine," she explained, her eyes wide as though talking to a child.

"And if I'm your son's friend?"

Barbara leaned in closer and whispered in Dan's ear, her hot breath sending chills up his spine and blood to his groin. "Well, if you're my son's friend, I'll fuck you."

With that, she straightened, retrieved her briefcase, and turned on her heel, heading toward the elevators.

Dan slid the tumbler away from him, not watching as it slid slowly across the table, gliding on the surface of the pooled condensation. His eyes were trained elsewhere at the time, namely on the shapely bottom that was receding through the lounge, watching as it swayed from side to side. Dan quickly got to his feet, and caught up with Barbara as she reached the elevator to the old part of the hotel.

As they waited for the elevator to arrive, the couple said nothing; Barbara, briefcase in one hand, merely followed the numbers on the panel above the elevator door as they ticked down to "L." An elderly couple joined them in their wait, and the four boarded the elevator when its doors chimed open.

Barbara stood in the back of the cab as it began its ascent, again saying nothing to him, again just watching the numbers tick, this time upward, toward the fourth floor. When she exited, Dan followed her, a puppy dog hoping for its treat. She led him down the wide, tall hallway, and around two corners, before stopping before a door. Inserting her key, she pushed the door open and beckoned Dan to follow. Follow, Dan did, and he took a brief moment to observe the mini-suite that was Barbara's home for a few nights.

"Would you like that drink now?" she inquired as she set her briefcase on the desk, her back to him.

"Sure. What do you have?" Dan removed his suit coat, and placed it over the back of a chair at a small dining table.

Barbara turned to face him. "Actually, I don't really feel like another drink tonight. I think I've had enough." She paused, a sly smile creasing her features. "Hey, were you trying to get me drunk tonight?" A hand floated to the pearl button the held the top of the cashmere sweater closed. A subtle flick and the button came free.

Dan laughed, somewhat nervously. "Not at all. I think it was YOU that was trying to get ME drunk." A second button came loose as Dan spoke.

"Don't be silly, sweetie. That wouldn't be appropriate. After all, I could get in trouble for supplying alcohol to my son's friends." Barbara worked the last button free, and shrugged the pink sweater of her shoulders. It fell to the ground behind her in a whisper.

Dan felt his heart beating against his chest. "Lucky I picked up the tab, then," he managed to respond, as Barbara moved past him toward the couch.

"Mmm. Lucky for me, anyway. Or should I say, lucky for my client." Barbara sat on one end of the couch, draping one tanned leg over the other, and lightly patted the cushion next her. Dan walked the few steps and sat down, but at the opposite end.

Barbara's lower lip curled out in a mock pout. "Over here, Dan," she implored, again patting the cushion next to her.

"I don't want to seem inappropriate, Barbara. If it's inappropriate for you to buy alcohol for me, then surely it would be inappropriate for me to sit so close to you behind closed doors."

"'Barbara'? Don't you mean, 'Mrs. Erickson'?"

Dan looked confused for a moment, but soon realized his error. "Of course. Mrs. Erickson. I'm sorry."

"Think nothing of it. And of course it would. Be inappropriate, I mean," she said, slowly inching toward him along the cushions of the couch. Her legs uncrossed as she moved, and the silk of her skirt caught on the fabric of the cushion, exposing more of her delicious thighs. "But wouldn't you agree that this evening has already taken a turn towards the inappropriate?"

As Barbara moved closer to Dan, he inhaled her scent. He felt a light sweat break across his forehead, and his palms were getting clammy. "Yes, I suppose it has."

"You 'suppose'?" Barbara laughed at this, a soft, sultry laugh. "My husband's two thousand miles away, tucked safely in bed. I've invited a man almost young enough to be my son up to my hotel room. Isn't that inappropriate?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. Her body brushed against him, and her right hand reached out and lightly rubbed his thigh.

"I'm sure your husband would think so," Dan responded, his tone matching hers.

"I'm certain he would. And he would also find it inappropriate that I rubbed my little foot against your crotch in the lounge, wouldn't he?" Looking into her eyes as she spoke, Dan almost jumped when her fingers traced lightly over the bulge in his crotch.

"Mmm-hmm," he managed.

Barbara's fingers traced a squiggly line up Dan's bulge and found his belt buckle. Without tearing her eyes from his, she gently loosened the buckle and pulled the belt free. "And do you think what I whispered in your ear tonight was inappropriate?"

"Uhn-uhn."

"No? Well, let me ask you this, then," she continued, her voice soft in the silence of the room. "Do you think my husband - not you, but my husband - would have found that to be inappropriate?" As the words tumbled over her full, pink lips, Barbara's fingers grasped the fabric surrounding the button to Dan's pants and popped the button loose.

"Positively," Dan said with a nod. To his ears, the sound of his zipper descending drowned out his own voice.

Barbara gave a slight tug at his pants, and Dan lifted his butt from the cushion. "And what did I whisper in your ear, young man? What was it that I said to you?" she inquired, sliding his pants down his legs until they were pooled at his ankles.

"You said, if I was one of . . ." Dan briefly lost the ability to speak when Barbara reached into his boxers with her right hand and pulled his thick cock from its confines, her cool hand contrasting wickedly to the intense heat that emanated from the shaft.

"Yes . . . continue," she taunted him as she scraped her nails lightly along the underside of the exposed pole.

Dan had regained his senses, for the time being anyway, though he was beginning to pant under her ministrations. "You said . . . that if I . . . was one of . . . your son's friends . . . you would have . . . sex with me." As he spoke, Barbara wrapped her dainty fingers around his cock and began a gentle up-and-down stroking motion. Against the silence that enveloped the hotel suite, the sound of the pearls of her bracelet clattering against each other was almost deafening.

"Not sex, Dan," she intoned. "I said I would fuck you. Isn't that right?"

"Hmm-mmm." Dan again found it difficult to form sentences as the speed of Barbara's stroking steadily increased.

"Do you want to fuck me, Dan?" she asked needlessly as she paused to spread the leaking pre-cum around the edges of his cockhead.

"Yyyeeesss," he hissed, eyes closed, hands reaching out and grabbing the seat cushions.

"Yes, what?" Barbara resumed stroking the thick shaft, picking up where she left off, her effort becoming more vigorous.

"Yes, please," he almost whined.

Barbara slowed her antics. "I see your mother taught you manners, but that wasn't what I was looking for." She leaned toward him, her soft lips brushing against his ear. Blowing hot breath, sending chills up his spine and causing him to shiver in his lust for this woman, she whispered, "'Yes, Mrs. Erickson.' Isn't that what you mean?"

"Oohh, ggaawwdd," Dan groaned, as Barbara brought her hand to her mouth and gracefully - somehow gracefully - allowed a certain amount of saliva to escape from between her luscious lips and collect in the palm of her hand. When she placed her saliva-slicked hand back around Dan's pulsing cock, he continued, "Yyyeeesss, Mrs. Erickson."

"Yes, Mrs. Erickson, what?" she again whispered, her lips still at his ear. "I want to hear you say it, young man," she demanded. Barbara's vigorous tugging of Dan's cock turned brutal, vicious. She felt the blood pumping rapidly through the veins that criss-crossed the young cock, and an intense heat that melded her palm to it.

"Yes, Mrs. Erickson, I want to fuck you," he grunted. Barbara left a soft kiss on Dan's earlobe and down the side of his neck, and turned to take in the rigid shaft encased in her tugging grip. She stared briefly, and watched as the head turned bright purple - angry purple almost - and then shiny. Pre-cum flowed liberally from the darkened slit, aiding her efforts and bringing Dan untold pleasure. She realized that if she didn't slow down, strands of thick sperm would soon follow the pre-cum, so she slowed her shucking, loosening her grip.

Barbara's free hand drifted up from her lap and found the top button to his dress shirt. She freed it, and the next five buttons after it, with little effort, spreading the plackets and exposing Dan's hairless, muscular chest. "You wanna fuck your friend's mom, Dan?" she teased him as she planted additional wet kisses along his neck and the top of his chest.

"Oh god, yes," he moaned. Barbara smoothed her right hand across his firm pectoral muscles and down across his taut stomach. Kicking a leg over one of his, she used her foot - still clad in a conservative heel - to push Dan's shoes off, and ease his pants over his feet.

"Are you going to give me my fantasy, Dan?" she whispered as her shiny lips found one of his nipples and sucked into her wet mouth. Dan could only moan in response. "Do you know what my fantasy is, young man? Do you know what it is I really want? What I want right now?"

With a light bite, Barbara released Dan's nipple from her mouth and kicked her leg the rest of the way over Dan's body. She pulled herself up so that was straddling him, her skirt now bunching around her waist, her arms encircling his neck, the warmth of her body pressing against his naked torso.

Dan couldn't respond. His senses were being overloaded. His cock was trapped between his stomach and her panty-covered vagina. Despite the silk barrier, he could feel her heat, her humidity, her wetness. He released his grip on the cushions, and his arms encircled her waist, resting on the tops of her ass cheeks.

Barbara adjusted herself and placed her lips at his ear, breathing heavily. Dan shuddered as his mind comprehended the wet sounds that penetrated his inner ear. "I've always wanted to fuck one of Jack's friends. To feel a fresh, young cock stretching my pussy wide."

Without waiting for his reaction, Barbara let her body slide down his, leaving wet kisses along his neck, collarbone, and chest. As she slowly descended toward her knees - like caramel dripping from an ice cream sundae - the bottom hem of her silk chemise caught on the tip of Dan's cockhead, slowly pulling the top up as she continued her downward journey.

"So, do you think you can fulfill my fantasy, Dan?" she queried, sliding further to her knees. Dan again shuddered as the warm skin of Barbara's taut belly smoothed its way along the underside of his cockhead.

"I'll . . . I'll certainly try," he stuttered as Barbara came to rest on her knees, between his thighs. She lifted the silk top over her breasts and let it fall to her side. Her breasts were not overly large. After all, she was not a porn star or a freak of nature. Her husband would not countenance implants and, anyway, Barbara had no real need of them: encased in a white, silk bra sat two well-formed, 34C breasts, a hint of a tan line peeking above the top of one of the cups.

"Try to what?" she continued, her hand again closing around the thick cock, tugging it up and down. Dan closed his eyes and was again assailed with the sound of the clunking pearls on her wrist as she increased both her speed and her grip on him. She waited in silence for his response.

"I'll try . . . to be . . . your fantasy." He could not stop stuttering.

"And I'll be yours." With that, Barbara dropped her head over Dan's cock, and took the head into her wet mouth, sucking it between her lips. As the ridge of the head passed between her full lips - shiny now with her own saliva and his pre-cum - she took more of the shaft into her mouth, pausing occasionally to swipe her tongue across the sensitive head.

"Jesus Christ," Dan muttered beneath his breath. "That feels so fucking good, Barbara."

She abruptly pulled the shaft from her mouth, and gently squeezed down at the base of his shaft. "That feels so fucking good, who?" she inquired with mock seriousness.

Dan's eyes had popped open when he felt the cool air of the hotel suite on his cock. "Mrs. Erickson. Mrs. Erickson, I mean. Sorry," he murmured.

Satisfied, Barbara resumed stroking the overheated shaft. "Try to remember, Dan. You're here to be my fantasy, right?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"And you remember what my fantasy is, don't you?" Barbara increased the pace of her stroking as she grilled him.

"Yyeess," he hissed.

"What is it? Tell me again," she demanded. Her tugging again became rough, almost brutal, but their saliva/pre-cum combination prevented it from being painful. "I don't want you forgetting."

"To fuck . . . one of your . . . son's friends," Dan panted.

"That's right, young man. And what are you? Who are you tonight? Hmm?" The speed of Barbara's hand continued to increase, almost violent now.

"One of . . . your son's . . . friends," he almost cried out.

Barbara relented and bent to take the engorged cock between her lips. Her head bobbed up and down, her tongue snaking out and gliding along the underside of Dan's shaft each time she began a downward bob. His head lolled back and forth, his eyes screwed shut. With very little of Barbara's treatment, Dan felt that he was on the verge of cumming; his hands again gripped the cushions and his pelvis involuntarily arched up and into Barbara's face, driving his cock deeper into her mouth than she had expected. When the cockhead rammed into the back of her throat, she gagged, and pulled it from her mouth.

"Easy, young man," she coughed, one hand still stroking him, the other planted just above the root of his cock, holding him steady. "I'm not the town whore," she said gently. "Treat me with a little respect. Treat me like I'm the mother of one of your friends." With that, Barbara again sucked the young cock into her wanton mouth.

Dan groaned at her instructions, thinking back to Mrs. Morgan, Steve's mother. Through his lust-fogged brain, he knew Barbara didn't mean what she really said. Dan didn't think she would appreciate being treated the way Mrs. Morgan liked to be treated. But the memory evaporated quickly.

He opened his eyes and reveled in his view. Barbara was on her knees before him, her shiny, pink lips stretched around his swollen cock. Her baby blue eyes rested easily, comfortably on his; he could see her smiling through them when she again popped his slick cock from her mouth.

"Enjoying yourself, young man. Isn't this what you want? To fuck your friend's mom? The neighborhood MILF? The cougar you meet in the hotel bar?" Barbara placed just the cockhead - purple and shiny now - between her lips, holding it there securely. Her right hand began a vigorous stroking of the shaft. Somewhere overhead, Dan heard an air conditioner kick on. The faint hum was accompanied only by the jangling of the strand of pearls on her wrist as Barbara's right hand stroked up and down Dan's abused shaft.

She dropped her left hand from his thigh and cupped his balls, gently kneading them, rolling them across fingers, dragging her nails across sensitive skin of the ball sac. Occasionally, her fingers would dart down and tickle his perineum. Dan's cockhead swelled between her lips, and she felt an increased heat wash over them. Dan was about to cum.

Barbara wanted to leave the bloated cockhead where it was. She wanted to wrap her fist even tighter around the twitching shaft. She wanted to give this young man what he so desperately wanted - release within her hot, sucking mouth. She wanted to revel in this wickedness she had never known, the almost sinful act of an older woman giving herself up to a young man. But she wasn't ready for all of that yet. She wasn't ready for him to cum.

She released the searing cockhead from her lips and gradually slowed the pace of her stroking. As Dan's breathing returned to normal, Barbara stood before him and reached beneath her skirt with both hands. When they reappeared, Dan watched as her elegant fingers lightly pulled the silk panties down her shapely thighs. She straightened, losing her grip on the panties, and he watched as they fell to a puddle at her feet.

Barbara stepped from the twisted silk garment, and again straddled his waist. She reached behind her and released the catches at the back of her bra. As it fell from her chest, Dan inhaled at the sight of them. Barbara's breasts were clearly not augmented. At forty-three, they hung - just slightly, but nonetheless hung - from her chest. A crisp tan line formed a triangle around each mass, and a thin, almost indiscernible white line connected the bottoms of the triangles. Her areolas were broad, smooth, pinkish-brown in color. At the center of each areola sat a nipple, almost indistinguishable from the flesh surrounding it.

"Beautiful," he muttered. Dan's hands move to touch her, to feel her breasts, to squeeze them and feel the soft, pliant flesh mold to his fingers, ooze between them. But Barbara had other ideas, and she leaned forward and placed one magnificent breast at Dan's mouth.

Her pelvis shifted forward, and moisture that had collected at the entrance of her vagina dripped lightly along the length of Dan's cock. As Barbara leaned further toward him, he felt a tuft of soft hair tickle the underside of his cock. It lurched upward, bumping against the splayed lips of her vagina, and she let out a soft moan at the contact.

As Barbara's breast approached his mouth, Dan's lips parted almost involuntarily, and he took the flattened nipple between them and sucked. He sucked more, and the areola disappeared into his mouth. Unseen to anyone that could have been watching, Dan swirled his tongue around the nipple, feeling it harden and lengthen in his mouth. He swiped his tongue over the smooth skin of the areola; goose bumps rose from the flesh.

Barbara snaked a hand behind his head and pulled him closer, urging him to suck her harder. Dan felt her nails dig into his scalp. Her hips began to shift up and down; each time her labia accidentally brushed against Dan's cock, it heaved and pushed more forcefully at her entrance, occasionally slipping against her exposed clitoris.

"Your lips on me feel so good, sweetie," she moaned, rocking her hips more insistently now. Dan released the breast from his mouth and, placing his hands on her torso, shifted Barbara's little body to give him access the neglected breast.

"Amazing breasts, Mrs. Erickson. Absolutely amazing," he responded before taking the unattended nipple between his lips, his teeth nibbling lightly at the sensitive flesh.

Barbara trembled at his words. At forty-three, and married, she thought she was past the age of caring what other people thought of her physical attributes, past the age of trying to attract men. But Dan's attention to her in the lounge, and his praises of her body and her beauty, proved her wrong. It excited her immensely to know that her body was still able to thrill men, and not just her husband, either.

Beneath her was a young man - a kid, really - in his mid-twenties, quivering at her touch. She felt his bloated shaft between them, sliding along her slick vaginal lips, rubbing against her clit. There was nothing soft about it. She - her body, her sexuality - had caused it to become engorged with blood.

Barbara felt sexy, she felt alive. Above all, she felt wicked, corrupt, slutty. She said it earlier. Her husband was at home, and here she was, in a hotel room with a strange young man, and things had gone far, far, far beyond inappropriate. He was naked beneath her. Only her skirt and heels remained, and her skirt was unable to protect her dignity, her decency. It was gathered around her waist, and one wrong move - or was it one right move? - would have her impaled on the thick cock that was sliding between her lips. Barbara quivered at the thought.

She leaned back, pulling her breast from Dan's mouth. "Are you ready?" she whispered.

"Ready for what?" Dan asked, all innocence.

Barbara took his face in her hands and bent to him, closing her lips over his, her tongue probing for entry into his mouth. Dan readily allowed that entry, and their tongues swirled over each other. Her lips were soft against his. Barbara rocked her hips against him, causing his cock to slide ever-more fluidly along her vaginal entrance, and her tongue delved deeper into his mouth. He moaned at her obvious lust.

"Ready to be my fantasy," she moaned into his mouth. "Ready to fuck me with that young, fat cock." Barbara rocked her hips harder against him and the searing heat of his cockhead lit her exposed clit on fire. "Ready to be my little boy-toy."

"Oohh, ggaawwdd, yyyeeesss," Dan hissed.

Barbara pulled her mouth away from his and, reaching behind her, pulled off her heels, dropping them on the hardwood floor of the suite. Holding on to Dan's shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh, she got her feet beneath her and squatted over the upright cock. It pulsed in the cool air of the room. Their combined secretions dripped down its length and collected in his pubic hair, matting it. It wavered and bobbed, brushing against her splayed vaginal lips.

Dan, enthralled by the light blond tuft of hair that sat above Barbara's clit, moved to steady his cock, wanting to feel her warmth surround him, engulf him. But Barbara gently moved his hand away. "Let me," she muttered, lost her own world of lust. "You just watch, young man."

Dan acquiesced. She held herself steady with her right hand digging into his shoulder. Her legs trembled slightly at the exertion of squatting over him. She reached between them and gave his cock two or three gentle tugs. Dan watched as her engagement and wedding rings came into his line of sight, and his cock twitched.

"Are you watching?" she breathed.

"Yeah," he mirrored. "I'm watching."

Barbara released his cock from her grip for a moment, and swiped her pink manicured nails along her slit, gathering her own juices on her fingertips. Her hand returned to the pulsing shaft, lubricating it, stroking it.

"What do you see?" she asked in a whisper.

"My cock . . . about to enter you."

"About to fuck me?" Barbara maneuvered Dan's cock so the head brushed against her labia; she let out a little gasp.

"Yeah, about to fuck you," Dan breathed, placing his hands on her hips, willing Barbara to impale herself on him. He pulled down slightly, hoping to coax her, but she resisted.

"Are you still my fantasy?"

"Yeah . . . I have the . . . young cock . . . you've been . . . lusting after," he panted. Barbara ground the head of Dan's cock hard against her clit, and her eyes screwed shut.

"How old?" she muttered.

Dan again urged her to drop herself onto him, but she remained solidly planted above him, alternately swiping his cock across her vaginal lips or over her inflamed clit.

"How old?" she repeated.

"Twenty-five," Dan relented.

"No," Barbara almost whimpered. She moved his cockhead away from the entrance to her vagina and resumed stroking it. "How old?" she implored, eyes still screwed shut as she reveled in the depravity of what she was doing.

"Twenty-four," Dan responded, looking up at her. Barbara remained mute, but shook her head, her radiant blond hair tossing back and forth over her face. "Twenty?"

Dan's cock trembled in her hand. He couldn't take much more. She ceased stroking him, and again moved the cockhead back to her vaginal opening. "Please, Mrs. Erickson," he pleaded, gently tugging at her hips.

Dan barely heard her. "Nineteen. You're nineteen, Jimmy."

Dan arched his hips off the couch and watched as the head of his cock parted the soft, dripping, pink lips of Barbara's vagina. "Ohmigod," Barbara moaned at the invasion. "I shouldn't . . . be . . . doing this," she muttered, barely audible.

Dan relaxed his hips and his cock withdrew from her folds. "Its okay, Mrs. Erickson . . . I won't tell anyone." Dan again arched into her, putting more effort into it this time. He watched his cockhead disappear completely within Barbara's vagina, and then withdrew it, slowly settling back to the couch.

"This . . . is what you . . . wanted . . . isn't it . . . Mrs. Erickson?" he panted. "To fuck me? To fuck . . . one of Jack's . . . friends? Fuck me, Mrs. Erickson!" he almost yelled. Barbara's eyes snapped open at the harsh command. He continued, softer, "Come on, Mrs. Erickson. You want my nineteen year old cock buried in your vagina, don't you? Don't you want Jimmy's young cock stretching you?"

Dan grabbed Barbara's hips tighter this time, and began pulled her down from her squat. It didn't take much effort. It actually didn't take any effort, for Dan's words had sent Barbara over the precipice.

"Yyyeeesss," she hissed as she let her legs give way beneath her. Her eyes squeezed shut at the violation, and she fell forward against Dan's chest, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her fingers grasping at his hair. "Fuck me, Jimmy!" she moaned into Dan's ear. "Oh, fuck! I've wanted this for so fucking long!" Barbara, her vagina fully impaled on Dan's thick cock, rocked her hips violently against him, grinding her agitated clit against his pubic bone. "To feel your young cock inside me, fucking me."

Dan maintained his grasp on Barbara's hips, assisting in her rocking. "So have I, Mrs. Erickson. I've wanted . . . this to happen . . . for years," Dan panted into her ear. "I never thought . . . you'd let me."

"I'll let you . . . Jimmy . . . just keep fucking me . . . your young cock . . . feels so good . . . stretching . . . my cunt!" Barbara was shocked by her own language. She would occasionally use foul language, but could not remember the last time she had used the word 'cunt.'

Dan bent his head and took an engorged nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. He heard Barbara moan above him, and lightly bit at the nipple, holding it between his teeth as the indecent mother continued to grind her clit against his pelvis. Barbara's breathing became erratic, and she was now jerking against him, all pretense of control gone.

He released the nipple and gave her a light slap on the ass. "Ride my young cock, Mrs. Erickson! Fuck me! Ohmigod!" Dan's breathing too became less steady, more labored, and he buried his head in her cleavage. "I never . . . would have guessed . . . that you were . . . such a slut . . . Mrs. Erickson," he moaned into her wobbling breasts.

"I'm not . . . a slut," Barbara protested, her lithe body still jerking against the young man she didn't know a few hours previously.

"You're fucking . . . your son's best friend . . . Mrs. Erickson . . . What does that . . . make you?" Barbara didn't respond. Dan allowed a hand to leave her hips, and brought it to one her nipples, squeezing the distended bud between his forefinger and thumb. "I'm your son's . . . best friend . . . and you're about . . . to cum . . . on my thick . . . young . . . cock." Dan lightly twisted the nipple, but squeezed it hard. "That makes you . . . a nasty . . . slutty . . . mom . . . Mrs. Erickson."

Barbara groaned and her body went rigid; Dan could feel miniscule vibrations radiating from her body as she fell into an orgasm that shut down her senses. He maintained pressure on her nipple, and kept thrusting his cock into her now-saturated cunt. Barbara had obviously responded to his taunting, and he continued it, whispering in her ear. "I can feel . . . your cunt . . . spasming around me . . . Ooohhh, Mrs. Erickson . . . what a filthy . . . little MILF . . . you are."

As Barbara began to come down from her orgasm, Dan was just nearing his. He was really at his wits' end now. The soft, warm body of Barbara above him, shaking and jerking through her orgasm, her large breasts squishing against his face, was enough to make him cum. But her little fantasy was too much.

As Barbara's muscles relaxed and she again began to move, Dan arched into her. The bottom side of her pubic bone squeezed at the underside of his cock, right at the root. "Where should I cum?" he asked urgently.

"Cum inside me, Dan," she whispered, still lost in her own lust. "Cum inside my cunt." It was too late, anyway. Dan's cock emitted a single burst of cum before Barbara ever had the chance to answer him. It coated the inside of her slick, stretched walls, only to be washed off by a second and then a third stream of cum.

Dan grabbed her hips hard, preventing her from pulling up and off him. He angled his own hips so that the pressure at the base of his cock remained. "Ooohhh, sshhiitt," he moaned as a fourth torrent of sperm emptied into Barbara's stretched hole. Barbara had settled down from her own orgasm, resting her little body against his, as Dan's sperm shot deep into her cunt.

As their breathing returned to normal, she rested her head against his chest and felt his cock shrink within her.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?" Dan ran his fingers through her hair, pulling it away from her face.

"For that. For playing my fantasy with me. It's bad, I know. I shouldn't be thinking the thoughts I have. Thankfully, I've never acted on them. Just this once. Maybe it's out of my system now," she said, smoothing a hand across Dan's muscular chest.

"Tell me: who's Jimmy?" Dan could see her cheeks redden. "Come on. After that, there's really no room for secrets."

"Alright, alright," she said, lifting herself up. "Jimmy is one of Jack's friends. I know you're a guy," she continued, standing up and moving to the mini-bar, "but if you saw this kid, even you would have to agree that he's a little hottie."

Dan laughed. "What's so funny?" she asked, looking over her shoulder as she pulled an iced tea from the refrigerator.

"Hottie. It just sounded funny."

"Whatever. That's the term Jack uses to describe girls that he likes. So why can't I use it?"

"No reason. I just thought it was funny." Barbara turned from the refrigerator, opened the can of iced tea, and poured some down her throat. Dan marveled at her body. She was forty-three and all natural. He didn't mind plastic; Donna Morgan could attest to that. But it wasn't often you found a woman Barbara's age whose body could more or less rival that of any thirty-year-old.

"Talk about hottie," he muttered to himself, his groin stirring again.

"What?"

"Nothing. Why don't you come back over here?"

Barbara glanced at the clock on the DVD player. "I don't think so, Dan. Time for me to hit the sack. I've got a long day tomorrow."

Dan stood and began to dress. Barbara pulled a hotel robe from the closet, and wrapped it around her body, hiding it from further viewing. When Dan was dressed, she walked him to the door.

"Feel free to call me here if you need more good company, sweetie," she said, pulling him into deep kiss, complete with tongue.

"I will, Mrs. Erickson," Dan quipped with a smile. "And you know, if you're ever bored while at home, here's my card," he said, pulling a business card from his wallet.

Barbara took the card, considering. "Thank you, Dan, but I really shouldn't. This was a one time thing for me. I'm flattered, though." She kissed him again, slipping the card into his shirt pocket. "Take care."

Dan stepped from the room as Barbara shut the door behind him. He hesitated a moment, then bent and slipped his card under the door. "You never know," he said to himself, walking down the hallway.