Just Another Friday Night – Part 1 [FM]

It had been a long time since I’d hit the bars by myself, looking for a hookup. After my [adventure at the gas station](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/asgi4i/a_fresh_start_fm/), though, I was craving more. So, more than a little nervous, I walked into one of my old haunts, a cheesy little joint connected to the Marriot for added convenience. I was decked out in a woman’s best friend, my little black dress, showing off more cleavage than would normally be considered decent, with my deep auburn hair pulled back in a bun, strappy black heels, and my makeup done just so. Against my pale skin, the combination of the black dress and red lipstick I was sporting popped like you wouldn’t believe.

Back in college, my girlfriends and I used to do what we called “flyby”s. We’d walk into a party, we’d each spot a cute guy, and we’d see how quickly we could get him to leave. With my nerves, I decided this would be my best choice. Waiting around for a guy to get up the nerve to make a move would have been death for my confidence. As I entered the room, my ego was inflated by several guys stopping what they were doing to watch me. It didn’t completely reinflate my confidence, but it helped.

I spotted my mark quickly, a guy who looked a bit younger than my 32 years, in reasonably good shape, lean, just a hint of toned muscles without looking like a total gym rat. Best of all, this tall, brown haired hunk not only didn’t seem to have anyone with him, there was even an open stool next to him at the bar. Without thinking twice, I made my approach, settling in next to him at the bar, setting my purse down, and sparing him a quick glance and a smile, which he briefly, but cordially, returned. I ordered a shot of whiskey (Jameson for the Irish girl. Accept no substitutes.) While waiting, we made introductions, though he was definitely giving off a loner vibe. I did manage to get out of him that he was traveling through on business, from further north. He’d been nearby for a few days and had stopped for the night to get some rest before making the final press home. His tension seemed to ease a bit when my drink showed up and I, without hesitation, paid for it. I’ll accept a guy paying for my drink, but I won’t beg. Once he realized I wasn’t fishing for a handout, he loosened up. Once he gave me an inch, I pressed my luck, laying my flirting on thick. Laughing at his jokes, touching his arm or leg at every opportunity, dropping innuendo at every possible opportunity. He seemed receptive but cautious. Finally (like it was a long time, we’d been chatting for five minutes. That’s a long time for a flyby, though) I got blunt. I told him that I was coming off a bad breakup, I was looking to get back into the game, and all I was interested in was some NSA action, making it perfectly clear that all he had to do was say yes.

Minutes later, we were on our way to his room. Less than ten minutes for a flyby isn’t my best time ever, but I was out of practice. Away from the bar ambiance, he seemed more desperate, like he was out of practice. He wasn’t throwing off creepy vibes, but he definitely seemed nervous, so I pulled him aside, using his white button down shirt to pull him down into a kiss (even with my heels, he had a good five or six inches on me). He immediately groaned, allowing his hands to explore my body, running over my back, grabbing my ass, moving back up to my tits. This was definitely a man who hadn’t gotten any recently. A little ways down the hall was a convenience area, with a soda machine and an ice dispenser. I dragged him to the relative privacy and pushed him against the wall, undoing his belt and dropping to my knees as he finished the job of shimmying his pants down, unleashing a beautiful cock, long and lean, prominent veins, but not bulging and gross looking. Not perfect, but definitely more than enough to get my mouth watering. I pulled my dress down enough to let my tits free, giving him a show as I shaked my C cups back and forth for him. He looked like he was living his dream. I took him in my mouth, sucking on the head for a moment before slowly, fraction of an inch by fraction of an inch, my hands behind my back, letting my mouth do all the work. As I reached his base, my eyes closed, focusing on the task at hand, tuning out the hum and clatter of the ice machine next to us, listening for his reactions. I lingered at his base for a moment, sucking softly on his full lengthe before slowly pulling back, hopefully taking the edge off his nerves long enough to get him back to his room. I guess I did my job a little too well, though, as, without warning, with about half of his length in my mouth, he let out a growl and unloaded a huge load in my mouth. It was all I could do to keep up with his pace, gulping it down, slightly salty and thick, as fast as I could. As the last little bit dribbled out, I could already feel him deflating in my mouth, a bad sign for my plans for the rest of the night. I drank down the last of his spendings and started sucking again, jacking with one hand to try and get some more life out of his rapidly shrinking tool. No luck though. Sitting there on my knees, tits hanging out, I looked up and asked if he was spent. Sheepishly, he nodded his head. I stood, wiping off my knees and putting my tits away before pulling him down again and pecking him on the cheek before leaving him, checking myself in my compact on the way back. No cum left dribbling. He didn’t even have the courtesy to mess up my makeup and my hair.

Back in the bar after my underwhelming encounter, both my nerves and my sense of urgency were lowered. I took some time (and some shots) as I played the room, sitting at the bar for a bit to see what nibbles I might get before wading out and engaging in some light flirting, some dancing, and general fun. At some point, I ended up dancing close with one guy who was a bit on the average side, looks wise, but promised to be packing a bit more than average, based on what I could feel as he was grinding on me. I’d had enough to drink to play along, even as he obviously worked me towards a dark corner. Once there, he became a lot more adventurous, grinding against me from behind while his hands pawed at my tits, pinching my nipples through my dress. I’m pretty sure I let out a yelp at one point, but it was lost in the music. After a while, he moved one hand down between my legs, rubbing me through my dress. Between the whiskey, the unfortunate blowjob, and the groping, I was fully primed and ready to go. Just as I was getting ready to ask him where we could go, though, his pocket vibrated. He gave me an apologetic look and pulled out his phone. Shooting me a look full of pleading, and pointing at his phone, I sighed and waved him away. I trotted off, and I was left debating myself: Do I wait for however long it takes for donkey dick to get done on the phone, or do I find someone who won’t ditch me for a phone call?

I went back to the bar and ordered two more shots. The bartender brought me four, and pointed to a guy down the bar, who had paid for everything. I smiled and toasted him with the first, before throwing it back easily. By the time, I got to the second, he was gathering his things and sliding down the bar. After the third, he had told me his name, and after the fourth, I decided that I didn’t care what he had to say to me, or how he looked, he was getting lucky. I was somewhere this side of drunk but the other side of tipsy as I told him this, and we found ourselves in the most romantic of venues: the alcove where the employees took smoke breaks behind the Marriott hotel. My mother would be so proud. Still, he kissed like a beast, biting my lip, grabbing handfuls of my hair, his hands seemed to be everywhere all at once. The air was chilly, but I didn’t care. I don’t even remember him pulling his dick out, I just remember him pulling my panties aside and pushing into me. I didn’t have a sound in my body, I just mouthed wordlessly at the air, trying to find some way to express my exhaltation. He moved slowly, pinning me against the wall and whispering about how beautiful I was, how lucky he was, how thankful he was. Not to sound ungrateful, but it was the last thing I wanted to hear. I wasn’t there for a love fest, I was there to get fucked, and after everything else that night, I was getting impatient. So, without a word, I pushed him off of me, turned around, leaning against the wall, and wiggled my ass at him. One of the best things about fucking doggystyle is that something about it is inherently harsh, I’ve never been gently fucked from behind, and this guy was no exception. He dropped the platitudes, he cut the bullshit, and he fucked me, and it was everything I needed. For a moment.

I swear, I don’t know if it’s my looks (egotistical statement of the day) or something about my personality, but I seem to draw minute men. This guy was giving me exactly what I wanted and needed, hitting the right spots, and next thing I know, just as I’m getting into it, he tenses up, and I feel him twitching inside me. I had a moment of panic, sobering me up, when I realized that I hadn’t seen this complete stranger put a condom on, but was quickly relieved when he pulled out and pulled off his filled condom. He thanked me and moved in for a kiss, but I deflected him, taking it on the cheek and patting him on the shoulder before making my way back inside.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/audc7n/just_another_friday_night_part_1_fm