Merhaba baykusajans.org porno sex hikayeleri okuyucuları,derlediğimiz en büyük hikaye arşivini sizlerin beğenisine sunuyoruz.Aradığınız tüm hikayeler burada
Originally, I thought An Afternoon Jog would be a one off story, but I haven’t been able to get her out of my head and finally have a destination/plot that I want to take this character to. Remember, this is a work of fiction for entertainment purposes only. I do hope you enjoy this chapter and I do invite feedback, ideas and criticism in the comments.
David Morrison left me alone there, kneeling in the empty garage with his cum on my face. Sunlight was coming in from the open bay door where Jimmy had pulled out the mustang. Dave was walking out the same bay door. I realized I was naked. Well, I still had on my socks and one running shoe, but I was effectively naked. I looked around for my clothes.
Of course my clothes were still on the garage floor where Jimmy undressed me, next to where the mustang had been before Jimmy drove it ouside. They were in the garage bay with the open door. I was off to the side a little. I could see outside, but not the sidewalk nor the street, but if I retrieved my clothes, I would be much more exposed. Jimmy and Mr. Morrison were saying goodbye. I thought, if I got my clothes now, the car would hide me at least somewhat, but if I waited until it left, I wouldn’t be able to hide at all when I got my clothes, so I got up and picked up my clothes.
Mr. Morrison honked his car horn. I jumped and dropped my shoe and shorts that i had just picked up. I looked at him and watched as he backed out and drove the mustang away. Someone noticed me and pointed at me. His friend looked too and they started laughing. Then some more people looked at me. They laughed. Someone shouted to Jimmy, “I didn’t know you had a full service body shop in there.” Jimmy was laughing as he came inside and closed the bay door.
Jimmy was smiling and laughing as he approached me. “You should get going.” He told me while shaking his head. “It’s time for me to close up.”
“Um, okay.” I replied, “Do you have a bathroom?”
He nodded pointed to a door, “over there.”
I carried my clothes and went in. It was pretty dirty, but everything seemed to work. I turned on the sink and looked in the mirror. My face was a mess. There was grease and cum all over my face and in my hair. I tried to wash it off, but mostly just smeared it around. Jimmy knocked on the door and told me to hurry up. I hadn’t even begun dressing. The crotch of my panties were wet and black with engine oil, I tossed them into the trash.
My shorts were in better shape. They were dirty with black marks and they had a tear in the side, but they were pretty much dry. It looked like Jimmy ran over then when he backed out the mustang. The tear was alongside of the seam on the right hip from the hem to the waist. I put them on anyway as I couldn’t really run home without them.
My sports bra was mostly okay, just real dirty from Jimmy’s hands and the floor, but it still fit and seemed to be functional. In the mirror I could clearly see a hand print on the right cup. When Jimmy knocked again I opened the door. I was almost ready. I just needed to put on my second shoe.
Moments later we were outside, Jimmy said goodbye and headed for his bus. I started my run back home. It was uncomfortable. Everyone seemed to be staring at me and while the run to the shop was mostly downhill so the return was uphill and seemed to be against the wind. A little after 3 I was still a mile from home and the skies began to darken. I picked up my pace a little to try to make it home before the rain, but the downpour got me for the last half mile. I’m sure several of my neighbors saw me jogging home in the pouring rain, completely drenched as I ran the last few blocks on the sidewalks o four complex.
My place was a rented second story, two bedroom condo. This condo was the first place I could really call my own. My lease, no roommates, no parents paying the bills. I liked the independence, but sometimes I hated the lonely nights with no one around but the TV. I used the second bedroom used as an office. It had a sofa bed theoretically as a place for a visitor to sleep, though no one had done so in the eight months I’ve lived here. Not to say I didn’t have overnight guests. I did, but they tended to share my bed. I took off my shoes and socks inside my front door. And carefully walked along the slippery tile to my carpeted bedroom. I looked at myself n the mirror. I was dirty and wet. I stripped off my clothes and I still looked dirty and wet. I took a shower and stayed there until I used up all the hot water. I spent most of that time thinking about David Morrison. My mind was racing and these various trains of thought kept interweaving themselves something like this.
‘How the fuck could I be so stupid? Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god! I just knelt there and blew him. He took video. I was naked. I told him my name. On camera. My career is over. He is going to report me. I’ll claim rape. But he asked and I said yes. Maybe he hadn’t started the recording yet? Of course escort eryaman he recorded consent. He is smart. Why did he record me? Is he going to report me? Will I lose my license? What if I claim rape? But I said yes! Dammit! I said yes and I sucked his dick. I used my tongue! I gave him my best effort. He is going to want to do it again. What does Jimmy think of me? All those people saw me! I can’t believe he fucking hinted his horn!’
My thoughts were a jumbled mess, running in circles in my mind. Switching rapidly between memories, self dispersion, and imaginations of what others thought and what the future might be. I imagined David Morrison making me watch the video of me blowing him. I tried to imagine what I looked like in the video when his cum hit me in the face. I imagined him making me kneel in his office, blowing him while he sat in the chair. ‘Fuck! He is going to want to fuck me!’ Then a thought of him bending me over his desk and fucking me while he was on speakerphone with a judge came to my mind! At some point my fingers had found their way to my clit and I was rubbing it furiously. I came in the shower at the same time as I fantasied him coming in my pussy.
After my orgasm, I rinsed myself off and while I toweled myself dry, i tried to come to some conclusions. First off, I had no idea what was gong on in Dave Morrison’s head. I knew very little about him, and I should find out more. Second, I couldn’t control what he would do, only my own response to it. I knew that my career was important to me and I would do a lot to protect it. I was sure that I had limits, but kneeling naked and blowing a man I barely knew was apparently within them.
By 6pm I was clean. I had gained control of my thoughts by putting the David Morrison problem in a mental box to be dealt with on another day. I noticed I was feeling hungry. A long workout and a lot of sex will do that to a girl. The skies had cleared and the forecast of a warm, clear evening seemed to be correct. I didn’t want to cook, so instead I got dressed. I choose a yellow, button up, sleeveless sundress, a pair of cotton panties and saddles with a small, 2 inch, heel. A touch of makeup for my eyes, cheeks and lips and I picked up my shoulder bag and headed out. I had a Lyft take me to a hotel not too far away. I knew the bar menu there had an excellent salad and even the company of tired business travelers would be better than the TV for an hour or two.
I arrived and the bar / restaurant was not full, but not empty either. I could have gotten a table, but I wasn’t looking for quiet alone time, so I found some space at the bar and ordered a gin martini and asked for the dinner menu. When he returned with my drink I ordered a grilled chicken sandwich with tater tots instead of fries. As I was handing the menu back to the bartender a gentleman on my left asked to see it. I made eye contact with him as I handed him the menu. I thought he was few years older than me, maybe thirty years old, give or take. He smiled at me and not too surprisingly he started asking me questions about the menu. What did I order? I told him. Have I eaten here before? I had, I lived nearby. What else is good? I recommended the beef. While the place was known for its steaks, the bar burger was also excellent, and tended to not break the expense account. He laughed at that and confirmed that he was at the hotel on business and would be in town all week. He arrived today and his boss was coming in on Wednesday to claim the glory and get the photo op.
The bartender came back, and Paul ordered the burger. He saw that my martini was almost finished and he ordered two of those. The bartender put a place setting for Paul next to mine. Paul commented that I was different than everyone else here. When I asked him to elaborate he started pointing out the various people around the room. First of course was the staff, all in their uniforms. Next were the business travelers, who dressed so alike that they might as well be in uniform. It was Sunday, so not everyone was quite in office attire. Some wore jeans, a few wore polo shirts, but even those had company logos. Paul himself was wearing jeans and a button down blue dress shirt with the top two buttons undone. Next he pointed out a family on vacation eating in the restaurant. Dressed too casually for the place and the kids were tired and almost asleep in their high chairs. After that he pointed out two women sitting together that he called “the whores”. Their clothing was a size too small, their skirts too short and their heels too long for a place like this.
Lastly he directed his attention to me and commented that I was the only one dressed for comfort and the weather and not to fulfill a role that I was expected to fill. He reached over and slid his fingers under the spaghetti straps of my dress. I was the only person here who truly seemed comfortable in my own skin. My mind briefly imagined him sliding the straps of my dress off my shoulders and down elvankent escort my arms, but he didn’t. He let go and lifted his glass and toasted me, “to you,” he said, “the most beautiful woman in the room.”
We clicked glasses and I replied, “to us.” He smiled.
We made more small talk during dinner and continued to chat. As 10pm approached Paul picked up the tab and I agreed to take one last martini, my fifth, to go and to “see the view from the balcony in his room”. Honestly, it was a creative excuse to get me to go with him to his room, but I had already decided an hour ago that I was going to say yes if he asked. The more time I spent with Paul, the less time I was spending thinking about Dave Morrison. I just hoped that the sex would last more than a few minutes. When we got to the room, the view was actually pretty good. The hotel was on a hillside and the city was all lit up with lights in people’s homes and streetlights and traffic.
“It is a very beautiful view.” I said.
“Yes, but one thing would make it better.”
“This.” He put his drink down an began to unbutton my dress. I finished my drink while I let him finish, then he took my empty glass from my hand, set it down and then slid the straps of my dress off of my shoulders. He said, “Yes, very beautiful.” And kissed me. While he kissed me he caressed my breast. His touch was gentle.
As we kissed, I untucked and partially unbuttoned his shirt. I briefly broke our kiss and said, “Lets take this to the bed.”
He followed me inside and finished undressing. Honestly, his cock wasn’t all that impressive. In fact, it was the smallest I had had that day, but he made up for it in technique, or at least in positional variety. It seemed like every minute, he was pulling out, and moving my legs this way or that way. At one point when we were face to face I asked him about a condom, which neither of us had, so I asked him to not cum in me. I knew it was a ‘safe’ time in my cycle, but honestly, the ‘rhythm’ method is a lousy method of birth control. Paul was a gentleman and when he was close he had me squeeze my little boobs together and he titty-fucked me until he came.
After he came, we lay in bed a few minutes. I could hear his breathing change when he dozed off, so I rolled out of bed. I went to the balcony to retrieve my dress and I couldn’t find it. I guessed the wind blew it off the balcony. I leaned over railing on the off chance I could see it and it was caught on something near enough to reach, but no luck. While I was looking an older male voice to my right said, “Don’t Jump.”
The voice itself startled me, but I replied, “Don’t worry, I’m just looking for something.” It was silly, especially since he could clearly see I was naked, or at least topless, but I was embarrassed to admit I lost my dress. I took just a minute more before heading back inside. Paul was sleeping so I put on my sandals, my panties and the shirt Paul had worn to dinner. I wrote Paul a note on the back of one of my business cards explaining the shirt and gave him my cell number, asking him to text me to arrange for me to return it. Then I called for a Lyft again to take me home. Paul’s shirt was much too short, but I pretended it was fine and walked through the hotel lobby and waited for my ride like nothing was amiss and no one said a word.
Monday morning, I was nursing my hangover so I skipped my run and went directly to the office. The day started with a weekly staff meeting to plan the week, then three client meetings and two depositions and my calendar was pretty full. During the staff meeting Paul sent me a couple of texts, but I had to wait to look at them. The partners were in this meeting and I cant be acting like a schoolgirl anymore. I was busy listening to my leadership gave me direction on some motions to file. It was a couple of hours of work to write them that I hadn’t planned on, but they would benefit my clients. After the meeting I finally looked at my phone. Paul sent me a picture of my dress on a chair in his room. I didn’t notice it when he brought it in as we came inside from the balcony, nor when I was looking to leave in the dim light of the room. He suggested that we meet for lunch either tomorrow or Wednesday to trade. I agreed to Wednesday. Not to mention that I was due in court on Tuesday and needed to prepare. It was only supposed to be about 10 minutes, but I spent 90 minutes preparing.
About 8 one of my colleagues, Gary, popped his head in and announce he was heading to dinner soon and wanted to know if I was in. I looked at my work. The motions needed to be proofread, but that could be done tomorrow and I needed to read the transcripts of the depositions, but again that could wait so I said yes. Gary was three years senior to me, and face time with him could make a difference down the road if he became a partner before I did so I said yes.
About a half hour later 4 of us actually left for a local chain etimesgut escort steakhouse that we knew kept the kitchen open late. Gary drove his Audi. Sarah sat upfront with him and JD sat in the back with me. We arrived and it was late enough that they seated the 4 of us right away. We didn’t even order our cocktails until we were seated. Before we ordered our steaks I was able to ask them if any of them knew David Morrison, the court clerk. Of course this led to questions of why did I want to know, especially when I asked if anyone knew if he was married. I said that I almost literally ran into him while I was taking my jog and that it was an interesting encounter. Sarah was perhaps the most vocal though she said she didn’t know him outside of work, she had been on the receiving side of some unwelcome stares, but she didn’t dare say anything because getting on his shit-list would make trips to the courthouse a nightmare.
Gary then told a story about a bachelor party that he was at with Dave where he didn’t act like a married man. Sarah asked for details and Gary described how Davy had supplied the stripper and when she was in her g-string giving lap dances he called her over and her kneel before him, unzip him and start blowing him in front of everyone. Once he came down her throat, he announced that no one could fuck her until the groom does.
As Gary went on with his story about he and a judge spit roasted the girl, I couldn’t help but think about how it was Davy that brought the stripper and I wondered if that was what he planned for me. I started to imagine me in her place with Gary and JD fucking me in front of a roomful of men. Gary’s story and my imagination were both cut off as the waiter returned and once the wine and the steaks came we moved on to other topics.
After dinner, we moved back to the bar and JD saw a woman that caught his eye. He asked for my help in getting her attention, which I gladly gave. It worked well enough that when the rest of us left a little before 11, he stuck around chatting her up. I was sure that I would hear some story, real or imagined, about how good a lay she was.
The next day, Tuesday, I was due at court at 9:30. I got a short run in before I came to the office at my normal 8am, and left for the courthouse at 8:45. The line at the metal detectors was always long first thing in the morning, and today was no exception. I arrive at my courtroom and check the posted calendar, My case is scheduled 5th in the morning session, with luck I could be done at the courthouse before eleven, certainly before lunch. I sat in the gallery with my client. I wanted her to see how business-like everything was. Real court is nothing like TV. She was nervous, but this was a routine check to inform the court that while we haven’t come to an agreement with the prosecutor yet, we agree that we are making progress and that more negotiations would be fruitful. After the third case the judge called for a 5 minute recess. I suspected he needed to use the little judge’s room.
Once he left the courtroom I heard my name and the prosecutor’s get called we approached the rail where Dave Morrison beckoned us. “I need to shuffle the schedule around. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if we shift your case until the afternoon, would you?” He looked at both of us. He was holding papers, probably the schedule. I looked and saw that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
“No problem at all, Davy.” The prosecutor answered. He was there all day anyway.
They both looked at me, “Da…” I started to object. I didn’t want to be there all day, I had work to do, but I caught the look in his eyes. The look that said this is not the hill you want to die on. “Da, Dat, That would be fine, Mr. Morrison.” I don’t normally shudder. I wasn’t sure what to call him. I didn’t think I was in the Davy club, and after Sunday, I decided to err on the side of respect.
“Excellent. I’ll squeeze you in as soon as I can.” He shook our hands, when he shook mine he slipped me a piece of paper. When I sat down I read it and it said, “Thursday, 7:30am breakfast, Courthouse Cafe.” The Courthouse Cafe was the old name of the Starbucks within the courthouse. I knew I was due back at court on Thursday for two different cases, and it seemed Mr. Morrison did too. We made eye contact and I held up the paper and nodded.
It occurred to me that the prosecutor called him Davy too. I wonder if he was at the same bachelor party that Gary was. He had another case and I watched him from the gallery. He seemed to be in pretty good shape. My mind was wandering while the boring day to day of court happened and I tried to imagine what he looked like naked. I was thinking of Gary’s story. He said a judge was there, I looked at today’s judge and tried to imagine him spit-roasting a girl, but he had to be nearly 60, with greying hair. I just couldn’t imagine him in that situation.
Right before the lunch break the judge asked for “one more quick one” and Mr. Morrison called my case. I smiled at he and mouthed a “Thank you”
He mouthed a reply, “Thursday.”
Everything went as expected and the judge set us a date 4 weeks out to return with a warning that if we didn’t make progress we may need to go to trial.