It was some time in the late 70s. I had finished my bout at a four year university, and the idea of pursuing any more late nights at Powell library, flipping through another dusty papered book – made me sick to the stomach.
So I did what any sun bleached Californian does, I hit the open road on Highway 1 to the tune of a v-twin Harley for nearly 4 months. I explored every shoreline and twisted road that hugged the coast, rumbled through cities that were then plots of dirt, searching for an answer that I wouldn’t find until I met her at the end of the road.
My rear tire broke loose as I came upon a lonely cantina where the road gave way to the sea. A woman who looked as if she never left the 60s behind, came out with a bottle of anejo in one hand and a whispering joint in the other. Her dress clung to her naked frame as the wind blew across her nipples until they hardened. Her blonde hair was kissed by streaks of white, and yet her face was still beautiful, and to one worn by road, she looked like a desert flower.
She tilted the bottle and finished the golden liquid down her throat and then said to me, “I’ve been waiting for you.” The bottle fell with a thud.
I don’t know if it was from the ride, or being so unexpectedly approached, but my legs stiffened as she came walking towards me, her barefoot sinking into the patches of sand. A hand woven anklet dangled against her foot as she worked my buckle loose.
I couldn’t even remember to ask any questions as she slide her body down mine and took me into her mouth. Her tongue snaked under my cock and her lips wrapped itself around me. I could feel myself growing inside of her, hardening, as her jaw gave way. She moaned as I filled her hungry little throat, the tip stretching down her mouth, resting against her soft palate and then pushing past her uvula. I looked down to see her eyes closed and her lips stretched across the skin of my cock. I reached down and grabbed the joint from her hand, which let her use both to vigorously stroke the inches separating us. I ran my hand through her hair and guided her head to a steady rhythm which she seemed to enjoy, and when I backed my cock away from her throat for a moment, she opened her eyes in dismay, revealing two brilliant green lenses. She took me deep down into her mouth again, and I leaned against my motorcycle by reflex as her hand cupped my balls, and that was when we fell. The smoking hot exhaust singed my naked rear, and third degree burns along with a lifelong scar later, I still regret not finishing inside of her.
Her husband eventually came out of the bar, chuckling as they drove me back down the seaside and to the emergency room.
I spent the next two weeks in the hospital. She would visit me several times as the graft settled in, bringing me the paper, some flowers, and light conversation. I found her open relationship intriguing, and she was interested in my studies. On her last visit I remembered laying on my side with my back to the opened door, a steady stream of patients and staff passing by in the corridor, the white sheet of the hospital’s linen draped around me and her hand reaching underneath my robe to stroke my cock. She didn’t break from the conversation and continued on as she always had, a nurse peeked in while making her rounds.
“How’s the patient doing?”
I raised a hand in the air and produced a thumbs up.
“Alright, I’ll be coming back to check up on your bandages later.”
She continued to stroke my cock, watching the people passing by outside my room. I felt myself stiffen as I was about to explode, I began to mouth a warning, but she had already ducked underneath the sheet and took me into her mouth. I wanted to enjoy the moment a bit longer but I felt the first spurt burst through my cock and into her mouth. She swallowed and took me deeper into her throat. I let off another and felt her throat gulp it down, it must have happened three or more times and just when I thought there was nothing left, she squeezed my balls lightly between her hand as she milked me. They trembled against her chin when she finally finished.
The next moment I see her appearing from underneath the sheet. Her eyes brighter than before, her voice relatively the same as she continued talking as if nothing had ever happened. Soon after she left, kissing me on my cheek, brushing her hips in such a way that her dress clung between her legs to give me one last view as I watched her walk away.
Admittedly, I never returned to that cantina sitting along the seaside. While in the hospital my time had run out and a new chapter was calling. I put an advertisement in the local paper and sold my hog for more than what I bought it for and caught a greyhound back down to southern California. I sent her a letter explaining what had happened, and hope that we would stay in touch. And even as I wrote those words down and licked the stamp, I knew that I would never see her again.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/fdvunv/golden_blues_mf
Wow looks so adorable
Lost for words……..