“Hi, I’m Dave,” I said by way of introduction. I entered their hotel room, eagerly anticipating the night.
“I’m George,” he said, “and this… is Raven.” George was an average looking guy, but Raven was hot. Entering her mid-40s, she had serious sensuality. “You look like your photo,” George was saying as I gawked.
“You too,” I smiled. George was closer to 50, with the growing middle of the successful executive, as did I. His hair was graying, more than even mine. I wondered what he did in real life; his presence was fairly commanding, even when wearing just a bathrobe.
Raven, though, was delicious. She was rubinesque, with the ample hips and big bust of a mother. Although she was wearing a robe, I could see black hose extending down to her bright red pumps–”fuck me shoes” I called them. I could only imagine the large nipples under her robe. She was wearing her shoulder length hair up, which accented her bright red lips.
“Would you like a drink?” she asked. Her voice dripped Southern Belle honey, and made me more thirsty than I already was. “Wine?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. She poured me a nice glass of cool white wine, and showed me the seat in the corner, where I sat.
When I was seated, she drank down the rest of her glass — it was nearly full! — and took George’s from him. Then she put her arms around him and they kissed.
….
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