Mike

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Merhaba yasamaya.info porno hikaye severler için pek çok erotik hikayeyi sizlerin beğenisine sunuyor.Neredeyse google da bulabileceğiniz tüm hikayeleri bir araya toplayıp okkalı bir arşiv yaptık.

Ass

This is a reader request! I was so excited to get a request I had to write it up straight away. He didn’t give me anything more than his name so I had to exploit the only guy I know named Mike to write the story.

*****

David makes good money. He is a good husband. I was bored though, that was why I went back to work. I didn’t need to work. I had some flexibility. The job as an administrative assistant with the Police Department sounded fun. I love those true crime shows.

Once I was getting dressed every morning and driving to the precinct in my neighborhood I remembered how much working every day sucked. I missed my mornings alone. I missed my mid-day trips to the mall wandering around the stores when they weren’t crowded and I still had all the same issues with authority I had always struggled with. I didn’t like being told what to do by people who didn’t know what they were doing.

I liked the sergeant as a person. He could be funny as hell. I just didn’t like working for him. It took me a week to wrap my head around the systems we used to enter all the reports and track all the shit we track like who is in which cruiser and when they will be back and who will be in it when it goes back out. Mike had been in charge of the three admins for years and he didn’t have a clue. It made me more insane by the day.

He would have me enter things incorrectly. Or worse, I would enter them correctly and then he would do a supervisor override and change them. One day we had three officers all standing around looking for the same Chevy Tahoe. They were going to wait around for a while. It had been sent downtown to have the transmission replaced.

The duty sergeant got on my case. I just glared at him. I could feel it happening. I snapped and told him what I thought of being berated in front of 10 other people and stormed out. The department doesn’t deal with that sort of thing very well. I went home, drank more than a Wednesday evenings apportion of Pinot Grigio and passed out.

The next morning I was at the precinct early. I wasn’t there to apologize. That just isn’t me. I would work extra hard for a few days. I would show them it wasn’t my fault. It didn’t matter. My little plastic badge wouldn’t open the door. I was pretty sure it was just messed up in some way but in the back of my mind, I knew I had probably just been canned. I knew I should have felt like crying but I didn’t. It wasn’t my fault – I would sleep just fine. It was their loss. I could have asked Marta at the desk to buzz me in but she would probably just tell me she couldn’t. She would enjoy telling me I was fired. I didn’t feel like giving her that kind of authority.

Thursday was Mike’s day off but I called him anyway. It was still only a quarter to seven. He sounded groggy when he answered. He didn’t know who I was. We fought through the confusion until he was awake enough to figure out what was happening.

“You aren’t even supposed to be there for an hour.” He told me.

“I know. I just wanted to get an early start.”

“Well Shit. Just hold on. I’ll be there in about five. I’m just down the block.”

I had only ever seen Mike in a uniform. It was a black polyester shirt and pants with a tie. The tie was made out of some super secret synthetic that made it impervious to stains, wrinkling, lint, and radioactivity. I couldn’t imagine what the uniform actually felt like on. He was older than I was and I am getting up there. I knew he wasn’t sixty. The department forced people out. He was probably mid fifties though. He had a bit of a gut from age and sitting at a desk. He had wavy grey hair that I wouldn’t call long but it wasn’t in some sort of official crew cut either. He had a mustache that matched his hair and by the end of the day he would have gray stubble around his chin.

I wouldn’t have been able to tell you if he was good looking or not because he just wasn’t the type that inspired a woman to make that sort of decision.

I was standing in the parking lot smoking. I was a little pissed off I had taken up smoking again but fuck it, I didn’t smoke at home and what David didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. I heard mike before I saw him. I didn’t know it was mike, I just knew it was a pan head. A long time ago I had worked with a bunch of bikers. That’s a different story. What is relevant is what the sound of a Harley does to me. I felt the vibrations. Standing next to a bike as it gurgled and growled got me worked up faster than watching Magic Mike in slow-mo on the big TV. When I saw the big bike roll into the parking lot I was surprised to see the gray haired man who sat astride it. Mike and I typically left together and I had only ever seen him leave in a little Toyota pick-up. He rolled up to me. I was leaning against the trunk of my little car. He sat there peering at me through Dark Ray-Bans.

“Denise, we need to talk.” He hollered over the sound of the bike. He was in jeans and a plain white T-shirt. He wore heavy boots. It was a good look for him. It was a good look for anyone.

“My badge doesn’t work.”

“Yeah, canlı bahis ’bout that.” He said. He looked down as he said it. I can’t really go inside like this. Besides, if we do, Salvatore will want to sit in. He’s an Asshole.”

Salvador was Sergeant Delagarza. He was the one I had told to fuck off.”

“Do you feel like breakfast?” he asked me. I didn’t. Not in any way.

“Sure.”

“Follow me. We will run over to the Moose.” The moose is a restaurant that really is a bar. They aren’t officially open in the mornings but it was a neighborhood secret that as soon as Moose got in the front door was open and he would fry eggs and potatoes or throw pancakes on the grill. He only charged a couple bucks and gave away the shitty coffee.

I was walking to my car door when I heard the bike growl. He had given it just a little gas before he popped the clutch. You had to with an old Harley. Fuck, he shouldn’t have done that I thought. I felt the vibration come up through the ground, through my calves and thighs. I would need to call Dave of course. That was how it worked. I turned and walked back to Mike and his Bike.

I pulled my sunglasses out of my purse and then pulled the strap over my head so that it was secure across my back. I poked him in the love handle and he got the message and moved forward just enough on the seat. I climbed on.

I had wanted to look professional today. I didn’t exactly have a professional wardrobe. Three years as a stay-at-home mom/housewife/amateur erotica writer meant my closet was mostly T-shirts, loose blouses, jeans, and a couple of long flowy skirts. The black one I wore today I had gotten mostly as a swimsuit cover-up. You could crunch the top down to wear as a skirt or pull it up and wear it tube top style. It was long, draping to the floor. I hadn’t needed to wear hose. Straddling the wide bike it meant my already excited pussy was pressed between the seat and Mike’s ass feeling every combustion of the motor. Shit. The ride was mercifully short.

Moose had the door open. Mike asked for eggs and bacon. He didn’t need the toast he was watching his carbs. I got a bowl of cottage cheese. I didn’t even think I would eat that but it seemed like I needed to order something.

“Do you even want to work for the Department?” he asked me.

“As much as anywhere.” I said.

“Yesterday was totally my fault.” He said. “I told ’em that yesterday. If ya’ hadn’t left. Well, it woulda’ been okay.” He was talking very quietly but we were the only ones there.

“So they fired me without even telling me.” I was trying to act upset but I don’t think it was working.

“I was going to tell you this morning. You were way early.”

“I’m sorry.” I don’t know how I was the one apologizing. I guess it was the look on his face. He looked like our Lab when you hell at him for getting into the trash can. We hadn’t been there more than ten minutes. I didn’t even have my cottage cheese yet but I had already come to terms with my premature retirement. “I like your bike.” I told him. He finally looked up at me and smiled.

We talked motorcycles. I knew a few things about them, like I said. I wasn’t an expert. Mostly I liked begging short rides around the block from large grisly men. Mike was a large grisly man. I was only now taking note of his arms. They were large and muscular. The Uniform was not flattering. The young officers, they liked their uniform shorts a size or two too small so their biceps stretched the material to its limits. Mike only wore some baggy older cut. He looked good in the T-shirt. When Moose came back I asked if I could have a bloody Mary. He asked how spicy I wanted it and told him nothing too crazy. Mike stared at me with a look of curiosity. The morning clearly was not going the way he thought it was going to.

“I’ll be right back.” I told him. “I should gave my husband a call, tell him I am back on the streets.” I slipped out of the booth and went outside. I lit another cigarette and dialed Dave’s cell.

He wasn’t surprised I had lost my job. I think I could hear his smile in his voice. He seemed shocked when I asked for permission to play though. I told him about the Harley and he understood. He had the same weakness for women without bras. Allowing each other to ‘play’ as we called it had saved our marriage. Who says you can’t have your cake and eat it too.

As I went back inside I felt badly for men. I have seen David go through it. He is a tall fit man with a caring soul. He is clever and charming with just a splinter of cruelty that makes him sexy. He has dark hair and Caribbean ocean colored eyes. He is what every woman aged 14 to 64 says she wants and yet, for him to be successful, he needs an opening line, the proper approach, the right timing, the stars need to be aligned just so the ambient temperature must be within a predefined margin that is unfairly too narrow and the fates have to be on board. All I needed to do was to pat his shoulder as I passed him on my way to the ladies room, in the ladies room strip out of my shirt and bras and tug my skirt bahis siteleri into dress mode. My nipples, pressing out visibly at the stretchy material did the rest. When I was finally back at the table we had cocktails and Mike was half way through his breakfast.

“What are you doing the rest of the day?” I asked him.

“The wife is at work all day. I was just planning on getting some things done at the house.” He said sheepishly. I knew that was his best shot at telling me no. He had mentioned his wife. He was a good boy. The thing about men was, they had no off switch. They are genetically programmed to spread their seed. Nearly every man I had ever met would go exactly as far as I let them. I fucked a gay dude once only because he didn’t realize it was happening.

“Do you feel like taking a ride?” I asked him.

“Sure.” He said. He wasn’t shy anymore. Mentally I thanked the girls for a job well done.

It was cool out, a beautiful spring day. It had been a dry winter and the desert was beige and dusty. He knew a highway that led out of town without winding through any of the new suburbs so even though it was rush-hour for all you working slobs we had a long lonely stretch of two lane blacktop and he let the bike pick up speed slowly. The faster he went the tighter I gripped him, my arms wrapped around his belly. As we hit ninety my nails dug into his T-shirt. The speed was intoxicating. The vibration that pounded the black leather seat into my cunt was riveting. My thighs were on fire and it was only the blast of air that surrounded us that kept me from bursting into flames.

An hour out of the city we passed through a small town. Thirty minutes up an even narrower road that wound its way through saguaro and mesquite he pulled us into a dirt parking lot. A wooden building sat beneath a sign that read the Coyote inn. It advertised feed beer and lottery tickets. A sign out of the forties read “rooms to let.” I suspected this wasn’t his first illicit mid-week ride.

Inside we sat at the bar. A grizzly man with the same T-shirt, mustache and wavy gray hair appeared out of the kitchen. He knew mike by name and addressed me only by looking me up and down and letting out a long moan of ‘Damn” as his eyes settled on my tits. Somehow he stretched it into two syllables.

“Beer?” he asked.

“Yup.”

“Hungry?”

“Not yet.” He looked over at me.

“Not yet.” I said.

“Room?” he asked. There was suggestiveness to his tone that came from pure Jealousy.

“Seven open?” Mike asked.

“Sure.” Said Mike’s buddy. He reached beneath the bar and tossed over a key. It was one of those old hotel keys that seemed to be three sizes bigger than it needed to be and it reminded me of trips to the Tropicana in Vegas twenty years ago when Vegas was still worth going to. He disappeared to the back and when he returned he carried a small steel bucket with four Budweiser bottles cradled in ice.

This was not the Mike I had worked for. He picked up the bucket and placed his hand on the small of my back indicating I was getting up from the bar now. I did as his body language suggested and let him lead me to a back door out of the dirty saloon.

It was warming up quickly out here in the middle of no-where. My shoulders had gone pink during the ride and I felt the sun sharply as we walked past a row of motel rooms out of a different time. I suspected there where hitching posts somewhere. The last one in the row sat perched on the edge of a crevasse. There was a small deck visible around the corner and view down the valley that stretched for miles.

“This place is cool.” I told him, at a loss for anything better.

“Yup.” He said. He was no longer a week-willed stammering administrator. He drew power from the bike and the desert and this weird little outlaw hideout. He scared me and I ached for him. He opened the door. The room was hot and dusty. The TV still had a tube.

I found a mirror. I was a mess. My long blonde hair was in a tangled mess. My face was red; my shoulders were pink. There was a distinct line between my sunburn and my pale tits that cut across my chest. I was as dusty as the bureau I was standing in front of. “God, look at me. I look awful.”

“Bull shit. And you know it.”

I am really like every other woman I have ever known. I can stand in front of the mirror and even if I know I am looking at great tits, good hips, a small waist, and a smoothly shaved pussy men will drool over all I am going to see is a haggard 47 year old bag of fat with stretch marks, saggy boobs, a roll of flab where I used to have a fat belly and imperfections too long to list. I am a fairly confident woman in general but there is that moment, when I begin to undress before he makes a move that I am sure he is going to point, laugh, and run away.

I heard him open two bottles. I looked in the mirror and watched as he tugged his T-shirt up and over his head. Poor little dumbass Mike was showing himself to be nothing I had thought him to be. Bare chested he sat down in a wooden chair that bahis şirketleri I didn’t expect would hold his weight. I turned and approached him slowly. He grinned at me.

“I got burnt.” I said.

“Show me.”

I touched my finger to my pink flesh and pulled it away. A white imprint the shape of my thumb slowly went back to the light rose color of my shoulders.

“Show me,” he said quietly. His firm tone thickened the moisture between my thighs. I tugged down on the tube top. It didn’t take much for the stretchy fabric to collapse below my chest. My large breasts released and fell free. I thought it was gross but I knew there was something to large natural mature breasts certain men couldn’t resist. “Fucking awesome.” He muttered under his breath.

I took the bottle of beer he had opened for me. I took a step closer to him and then gathering the folds of my dress in my freehand I straddled his legs and perched myself on his lap. His eyes went wide as my tits closed in on them. He took a long swallow of beer his eyes never leaving them. His bottle empty he dropped it to the floor and landed loudly on bare wood planks. A large hand gripped the small of my back as the other grasped my tit. His grip was firm. Men all have a different ways of playing with tits. I guess that’s because different women like different things. I don’t like my tits pinched, some girls do. I like the full on orange juicer and that’s what he did. He pressed my nipple into his mouth. I felt his lips and tongue and the bristles of his mustache. It was good.

“I can feel your fat cock. Have you been thinking about this?”

“Shhh.”

“No? That isn’t your cock I feel on my pussy?”

“Shhh” he hushed me again. I’m a talker. He clearly wasn’t I learned when he released my tit and placed his hand over my mouth. His grip was tight and it hurt and I needed him. I needed to get fucked right then. I managed to get my beer bottle to the table and then scrambled my free hands to tug open his jeans.

He cooperated. He stood me up, strong hands on my hips lifting me off his lap. I’m not some skinny little girl but he lifted me easily. I stepped back quickly. I didn’t say anything. I wanted to but I didn’t. Instead I climbed backwards to the middle of the bed and spread my legs. My skirt bloused out around me on the cheap ugly bedspread. The mattress creaked when I moved.

I watched him drop his jeans. He was commando, I think he had rushed out the door but maybe he just didn’t like undershorts. His cock wasn’t overly long but it was thick and bent slightly to the right. I had read somewhere that meant something but in my experience it didn’t matter. I stroked my pussy for him.

He smelled of dust and sweat and man when he mounted me. His hips were wide and I spread my legs to take him in. I was ready; I had been ready since I had heard the big bike roll up the street hours ago. He slid easily inside of me.

He fucked with intensity. It caused me to grunt with each assault on my cunt and again he covered my mouth. I was desperate for air and sucked what I could through my nose. His hips slammed against me, his shaft mined my hole until I was there, on the edge of my orgasm. I fought for it to take over. I gripped at his strong shoulders and stretched my legs wide until my thighs ached.

He came in me. It was a fucking gusher. It was against the rules but I am shit for following rules and the slick sloppy feel of his dick and cum did it and I bit his hand as I came.

“Over,” he said. I wasn’t done coming and I was a little pissed when he sprung off of me and surprised the old man moved so quickly. “Over!” he grunted again.

I rolled and stuck my ass in the air. I had a moment of fear. I didn’t know him, or at least this version of him. I feared he was an ass man. I have taken it in the ass but not often and not well. I was afraid his cum soaked cock was about to force its way in the back. He didn’t seem the type I could talk out of it. I feared it would happen and feared worse the thought that I wanted it too.

It didn’t. His fat cock pressed into my dripping pussy and I pressed back against him.

“Yeah, Mike! Fuck that pussy!” I said, going against his order of silence.

“Shh.” He said again.

“You don’t like that do you.” I taunted him. “I don’t care. Fuck me, asshole. Fuck that pussy till I cant talk.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He said. He took a wad of my hair in his hand and pulled my head back.

“Fuck yeah. Do it.” I squealed. My tits rubbed against the rough bedding. “Do it, Mike. Fuck me.”

He hated the way I talked to him and he took it out on my pussy and it was fucking awesome.

“Give me that cock. Give me another load. Fill that cunt with cum. Do it Mike. Do me Mike. Fucking harder. Do you have it in you.”

Fuck he was strong. He let go of my hair. His giant paw grasped the back of my skull at the neck and pressed my face into the creaky old mattress. It stunk of cigarettes and biker sex and I fucking came again. I was in one of my orgasm fits. That’s what David called them. They were like hic-ups. He could do it to me with his tongue, I don’t think I’d ever been fucked into one of my fits but Mike, motherfucker that he was had me in one. I couldn’t fucking breath and I didn’t give a shit.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir cevap yazın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir


ankara escort gaziantep escort ensest hikayeler kadıköy escort maltepe escort izmir escort didim escort mersin escort izmir escort izmir escort izmir escort bayan tuzla escort sakarya escort sakarya escort izmir escort maltepe escort konyaaltı escort maltepe escort ankara escort antalya escort ataşehir escort kadıköy escort bostancı escort gaziantep escort maltepe escort pendik escort kadıköy escort ümraniye escort bahis kaçak bahis güvenilir bahis bahis siteleri bahis siteleri güvenilir bahis bursa escort kocaeli escort bursa escort bursa escort bursa escort kayseri escort bursa escort bursa escort adapazarı escort webmaster forum brazzers porno