Visions of DeAnna - Part 1

Visions of DeAnna - Part 1 [part 1 of 5]
By: Spearchamp (spearchamp@comcast.net)

Visions of DeAnna

Easing back in a lounge chair propped on the deck of the outdoor bar at her hotel, DeAnna enjoyed a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and munched contentedly on a large prawn as she gazed out over Puget Sound. She had just finished checking back with her administrator, no fires to put out, no more calls to make.

The day had not begun on the smoothest of notes - there had been a power outage at her oceanfront home, the alarm failed to go off, and she had to scramble to get out of the house, dragging her wheeled overnight bag she had packed for her trip, laptop slung over her shoulder. She tossed her luggage into the passenger seat of her red Corvette convertible, and sped off to the San Jose airport, her short cut blond hair flying straight back in the wind, barely making it through the security line on time - she had been chosen as a screening passenger, and was taken to a private area where she was "asked" to strip down to her underwear. Under many circumstances, DeAnna would have taken great delight in doing so - and not stopping there. In her early 50's, she possessed a body that most women half her age would die for - a sensuous pair of breasts that fit her 5' 4" frame perfectly, hips that could sway her lovely ass forever, and a perfect tan from sunning on the nude beaches near her home. But here, trying to catch her flight to Seattle, she was seething as the female security guard, a short, squat woman in a TSA uniform eyeing her suspiciously as she waved her wand around DeAnna's body.

"I could save you some time, honey," DeAnna said sarcastically. "I shoved the explosives up my ass."

The security guard ignored the remark, and finally declared DeAnna travel-worthy. She quickly re-donned her wardrobe - a grey business suit than accentuated her curves - and raced off to her gate, barely making it on time, muttering furious oaths about the state of air travel in the 21st century.

Fortunately, things improved during the day. Her meeting went very well - she had impressed her potential client with her sharp business sense and charmed him with her frank humor and dazzling smile (not to mention her curvaceous figure) . As he walked her back to the office security checkpoint, DeAnna noticed a reasonably good sized bulge between his legs. Always a good sign, she cackled to herself.

* * *

She ordered another glass of wine and kicked her heels off. The young lady serving her set the glass down on a side table next to her and, with a slight giggle, informed her, "Courtesy of that gentleman over there, m'am," pointing off to DeAnna's right. DeAnna thanked her and did not look over right away.

DeAnna loved men - loved to be with them, talk with them, and most of all, loved to fuck them. She did have a certain standard to be sure, but the feeling of her lips wrapped around a man's cock, of having her cunt serviced by a man's tongue, of feeling a man's cock pushed way inside of her . . . Steady, girl, she chided herself - it's just a drink.

She finally turned and spied the person who appeared to be her benefactor - a tall, handsome dark haired man with some flecks of grey, wearing a light blue golf shirt, dark blue shorts, and sandals, chatting in a relaxed manner with the bartender and a few other folks gathered at the bar. He seemed very well preserved, with nicely toned arms and legs. DeAnna caught his eye, smiled at him, and raised her glass. He pointed at himself, looking surprised, raised his own glass to her, smiled broadly - and returned to his conversation.

DeAnna's own smile froze - it was just a drink after all. She finished her wine and made her way to her room.

* * *

After a shower and a change of clothes (tight black slacks and black heels that accentuated her killer legs, low cut black sequined blouse that did her cleavage justice), DeAnna hailed a cab and made her way to Tula's, a downtown Seattle jazz club. The hostess guided her past the low-lit bar and into the area that served as both a restaurant and listening room. "I think you'll like this spot," winked the hostess, gesturing to a small table with a comfortable sofa-like seat.

DeAnna sat down - and before she even had a chance to order, a glass of Sauvignon Blanc appeared at her table.

"That one, I actually bought you," laughed a man's voice. DeAnna turned - and peered into the face of her mistaken patron from the hotel bar, his friendly deep blue eyes crinkling as he chuckled.

"This one, you actually bought me?" DeAnna repeated, a puzzled look crossing her face.

"Yeah . . . well, there was another guy back at the hotel who actually bought you that drink. He had to go off and take a call. When you waved at me, I just thought you were being friendly - then I kind of put it all together . . . "

"So did the man who actually bought me the drink ever return?" wondered DeAnna.

"Yeah - I told him that you told me that you were a lesbian and that he should - oh, how do I put this - oh, yes - fuck off."

DeAnna laughed - pretty creative, she thought.

"Anyway - I think you'll like the Kim Crawford. It has a lingering finish - or whatever it is those wine aficionados have to say about it." He offered his free hand; the other was cradling a martini glass. "I'm Gregg - you are . . . ?"

"Confused. And thirsty. And grateful. I'm DeAnna," she replied, extending her hand and motioning for Gregg to join her on the sofa seat behind the table.

"So you followed me here, Gregg?" teased DeAnna. "Do I have anything to worry about?"

In a mock-serious tone, he replied, "I was totally exonerated the last time they arrested me." He then raised his glass to DeAnna's, and said, "To the here and now," looking into DeAnna's beautiful hazel eyes.

"To the here and now," echoed DeAnna.

The jazz combo began to play, the rhythm section laying down a low, seductive groove, while the tenor saxophonist blew "Saint Thomas" in a style reminiscent of Sonny Rollins. DeAnna leaned back in her seat and sighed, "I'm just an old rock and roll girl, I guess - but there's something about jazz. It's - it's just so sensual."

They listened for a few moments. Then Gregg said, "Sensuous."

He turned to DeAnna, and lightly ran his fingers through her hair.

"Jazz," he said, "is sensuous. You . . . are sensual."

She leaned toward Gregg, and they kissed, tentatively at first. Then DeAnna parted her lips and their tongues met and began to explore . . .

* * *

Gregg had hailed a cab for both of them - "To the Mayflower Park Hotel, good man, and hurry," he called out grandly; the Vietnamese driver merely grunting. They resisted the overwhelming temptation to madly make out in the car, but DeAnna took Gregg's hand and placed it on her crotch, stroking it back and forth. Gregg could feel himself getting hard as DeAnna squeezed her thighs together and pressed his hand, as though she wished him to tear through her pants and straight to her wet cunt.

They arrived at the hotel, and jumped into the elevator. "Give me 10 minutes, Gregg," breathed DeAnna, kissing him wetly and patting his ass. "Room 409."

"Ok, baby," he grinned. "I'll be the guy with the third leg."

DeAnna quickly changed out of her clothes and into a very sexy, sheer satin silver teddy, and put back on her black high heels. She checked herself out in the mirror, applied a touch of lipstick, and smiled slyly into the mirror. "Fun time," she said to herself.

She began to worry some when the 10 minutes had passed, but eventually there was a knock on the door. DeAnna peered through the peephole, it was in fact Gregg.

She let him in, taking him by the hand. He stared appreciatively at the exquisite curvature of her body. His primal urge was to take her right there, but first things first. He handed to her a single rose. "Yeah, it's a little bit cliché, I know," he offered. "And compared to you . . . well . . ." and his voice drifted off.

DeAnna was taken by the rose. "Where did you find this at this hour of the night," she wondered, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Gregg smiled a bit - "It's amazing what one can do in the here and now," he offered.

DeAnna drew his face to him and kissed him deeply, reaching to his shorts to unbutton them; taking down his zipper. Gregg enjoyed the taste of her mouth, and massaged her through the silk. No need to rush this, he thought, we're not going anywhere.

She pulled down his shorts and underwear, which revealed a nice sized cock at full attention. She began to stroke it causally as she resumed kissing him.

Suddenly, Gregg reached down and wrapped his arms beneath DeAnna's legs, lifting her off of the floor, and on to the bed. "Guess I'm old school DeAnna - ladies first," Gregg grinned. DeAnna slowly removed her teddy - and Gregg looked in awe at her incredible body, tits rounded, areola slightly darker than her fully tanned body. She pulled off his shirt - and suppressed a giggle. Gregg smiled ruefully - "Yeah, I'm a victim of farmer's tan. Sorry about that." Once DeAnna got past that, she responded favorably to his nicely muscled arms and strong torso.

Gregg kissed her on the lips again, and then behind her right ear, whispering to her again as he lightly bit her lobe and moved down to her neck, kissing and nibbling it all the way around. His hands gently glided about her body, exploring every nook and cranny. His tongue soon followed - first on her tits, licking, squeezing, and nibbling them. DeAnna writhed and reached down to play with her wet, hot cunt - Gregg grabbed her hand, and whispered to her, "Don't worry, DeAnna - we'll get there."

He then ran his tongue along the length of her right leg, pausing to kiss the softness behind her knee. She seized again, her head rocking to its side. He kissed inside her thighs, the back of her calves, and then, after removing her shoe, began to massage her foot. He took her tiny big toe into his mouth, circling it with his tongue, and then did the same with the remainder of her toes. DeAnna couldn't help herself; she reached again to rub her leaking mound, rubbing its inner folds, sticking two fingers into her twat and frantically pushing them deeper into her cunt.

Gregg moved his head between her thighs, and began to kiss the skin around her vagina, while DeAnna continued to dig deeper. He then began to lick her mound as she moved her fingers toward her clit, rubbing it fast and gently at the same time, like a hummingbird flapping its wings; then his tongue plunged deeply into her, his hands grasping her lovely ass, his lips and tongues sliding up and down her slit. DeAnna came, her back arching as the juice from her cunt flowed. Gregg buried his head deeper into her as her thighs closed around his head. She rocked back and forth on the bed, moaning louder as Gregg's tongue continued to work.

DeAnna finally relaxed her thighs slightly, and Gregg lifted his head to look up at her; she was panting and whispering, "More, Gregg, I need you to fuck me - I need you to fuck me . . ."

He took his dick and lightly ran it up and down the slit of DeAnna's slick cunt. She thrust her crotch toward him, he pulled away, teasing her, again running it up and down her slit. Finally, she could no longer take it - she rose up, grabbed him by the head, and hissed at him, "Stop toying with me, you bastard! Fuck me now!"

Gregg needed no further urging; he took his member and slowly entered its swollen head into DeAnna's waiting hole. He did not plunge in all the way at first, but as she moaned and slithered his cock slid more deeply into her. They rolled over on the king sized bed, DeAnna now on top, sliding her hips back and forth; Gregg's cock brushing her G-spot as he did his best wild mustang impersonation, arching his hips upward as she rode him hard. Amazingly, she came again, writhing in passionate agony, her head thrust back, screaming "Oh my fucking Christ!!" as Gregg continued to buck her.

She pulled out of him and grabbed his cock again, stroking it as she positioned her head between his legs and licked his balls, kissing and lightly biting around his sack. She then looked squarely into his blue eyes as she ran her tongue the length of Gregg's veiny cock, all the while massaging his balls before finally wrapping her lips around it. Gregg leaned up on his elbows to view DeAnna's lovely mouth warm his dick, her blond head bobbing to the beat of a song of lust that only the two of them could hear. DeAnna could taste the juice from her own pussy, as well as a few drops from Gregg's dick, her mouth full with the meat of his love, his knob nearly down his throat.

It was all that Gregg could do to hold off from coming - DeAnna's mouth magic made him that much harder. She finally came up for air; Gregg sat up to face her. They embraced for a few moments with another passionate kiss. Gregg ran his hands over DeAnna's coffee-with-cream colored ass, and tentatively massaged her crack with his middle finger. DeAnna breathed into his ear, "It's yours . . . It's yours, take it." She motioned to her suitcase. Gregg found a bottle of Astroglide in its toiletry sleeve. He poured it on DeAnna's delicious bottom, making it shine. Gently, he inserted his finger into her ass crack, pressing it lightly around the hole, and then tenderly dug it deeper, whispering to DeAnna, "Relax, honey . . . Relax." Then, straddling behind her, he put his cock in her pussy again while continuing to finger her ass, lightly swirling inside of her.

DeAnna clutched, and then felt him leave her peach, the knob of his cock traveling up her love canal and squeezing against her butt hole; she surrendered her ass to him. The sensations she felt from him were indescribable as he slowly rocked her; DeAnna rubbed her clit in rhythm with him as he slid in and out for her. Gregg pulled out briefly and admired her gaping asshole; he licked lovingly around her rim, sending her into another moaning frenzy - "Oh my GOD, Gregg, that's SOOOO good" - then he sat on the edge of the bed and rolled DeAnna on her side; she lifted her leg and Gregg lay next to her, entering her ass again, DeAnna crying out as his dick went even deeper into her ass; looking back at him with a wild look of sweet agony, she resumed tending to her pussy. Gregg placed his hands beneath her ass cheeks, guiding her up and down, the soft walls of her ass tunnel making him even wider. He quickened the pace, and felt her anus clutch his cock as once more she came, pussy juices dripping from her marvelously enlarged cunt, ass grinding into Gregg's tool, exclamations of lust spewing from her mouth. She leaned her head back toward him; he kissed her hard on her neck. She then rolled away, turned and took him completely into her mouth again, this time bobbing her head faster, then backing away to stroke his cock vigorously as she sucked on his testes, her tongue massage driving him wild.

Finally, he came - first, a large shot that landed on her chest, then a few ropes that found her face. She rubbed the cum into the luxuriant skin of her tits, then massaged it into her face. Taking his cock back into her mouth, she sucked Gregg's bulb, the cum dribbling out of her mouth, Gregg totally gone, thighs and torso convulsing as DeAnna worked her mouth one more time down his shaft, her mouth full of his lust and desire. She slowly brought her head back up, kissing the tip of his cock one last slid, and slid up his body, finding his mouth and kissing him, all of his and her juices swirling with their tongues.

They lay on the bed for several minutes, DeAnna gently circling his nipples again with her fingers, hoping that maybe she could get another rise out of him, so much did she enjoy this ride. Gregg collected himself, admiring the serpentine beauty of her body. A sly smile slowly spread across his face . . .

"DeAnna, I'm really thirsty, how ?bout you?" he asked, sitting up in the bed.

"Hmmm . . . a glass of wine would be lovely, Gregg . . . but I think room service has stopped for the evening."

"Well then," he said, "I'll just have to get it myself" - and jumped off the bed, opened the door, and strode off into the hallway buck naked!

DeAnna, for one of the few times in her life, was speechless - who IS this crazy guy who followed her, seduced her, and fucked her so passionately?

She waited for a few minutes, sitting up, drawing her knees up to her chest, and gazing absently at her reflection in the mirror over the bureau. She winced a bit as she spied a hicky - a hicky! - on her throat. That goof, she sighed, and smiled. Then she heard the sound of a door unlocking - but it wasn't the door to her room. Slightly fearful, she turned and saw a door opening at the window end of her room . . . and there stood Gregg, bottle of wine and 2 glasses in hand, a white robe tied at the waist, half-smile on his face.

DeAnna shook her head - "So you've been next door to me all along," she marveled. She put back on her teddy and walked into Gregg's room. On the table was a bowl of fresh berries and whipped cream. DeAnna dipped a strawberry in the cream and offered it up to Gregg, who nibbled it down, taking DeAnna's hand and licking the strawberry juice from her fingers. He had moved the sofa in his room over to face the window. Gregg sat, his legs outstretched to the window; DeAnna placing her head on his lap . . .

"You certainly are a man of surprises," she said mischievously. "So . . . just who are you, anyway?"

"Well," started Gregg, "For one thing, I've managed to pick up the nickname ?Spearchamp' . . . "

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