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I had been travelling throughout Europe, with my college roommate named Helen, for nearly four weeks. We had started in Greece, worked our way up through Italy, into France, and eventually into Switzerland, and on into southern Germany. Helen had to leave from Frankfurt to make the beginning of her first semester of graduate school. This left me with 3 days left to make it through Austria to Vienna’s Schwechat airport to catch my return flight home to The States.
Vienna is beautiful city. I would guess it is even more beautiful if you have more than a few Euros left in your backpack when you arrive. Sadly this was how I showed up, by train, early one August day.
I suppose I should introduce myself first, before I proceed with my story. I am Melissa. I was almost 22 at the time I took my trip with Helen. I am not pretty; well, I am perhaps average on a good day. I have pale clear skin, dark hair, and a slight weight problem; however, I had lost a few pounds during this trip: more on that later. I am nearly 5 foot 6 and I can’t recall the scale ever telling me I weighed less than 150 pounds…at least not since high school.
Helen and I had a great time in southern Europe. We drank too much, toured all the great museums, and we each even had a brief fling. She was seduced by an Italian boy with a Vespa, and I had an interesting night with a Scottish boy I met in a Paris hostile. I adored his accent and he adored that I swallowed come.
Anyway, Europe seemed to get more expensive as we travelled further north. By the time I dropped Helen off at the Frankfurt airport I was running low on money. Helen gave me the rest of hers, yet, even with that money, I knew I was going to be running out before I made it to Vienna. I knew, in a pinch, I could ask my parents to wire me some extra money, but I was determined to not have to stoop to having to be bailed out by my parents. If I had to starve, so be it. In fact I had already dropped ten pounds during the vacation. This was partial owing to thrift…and partially owing to having to walk everywhere.
After arriving in Vienna, I got a loaf of bread and a small can of coffee in a café. I then bought a seat on a tour bus and took a long touristy trip all around the charming city of Mozart. My flight was going to leave in two days. I decided I had enough money for one cheap hotel stay, so I stayed in a disreputable location that first night, and I visited some museums and Hapsburg monuments the following day. My plan that final night was to arrive at the airport and sleep in a lounge. My flight left at ten in the morning on the following day.
The idea of sleeping at Schwechat airport was made even less appealing when I realized I no longer had any clean clothes. When the public bus dropped me off at Schwechat I really wanted a beer badly, even though I am normally more of a wine drinker. I found my way to an airport bar and plopped my tired ass down onto a barstool. The bar was fairly full of traveling tourists and some businessmen in suits: two of which were having an amiable conversation in German as they sat on the stools next to me. I was rummaging through my coin purse, looking for coins with which to buy a beer, when the bartender came over. He looked coolly annoyed when I asked him how much a beer was. I thought he was joking when he quoted the price of a draft beer. If I purchased a beer I would not be able to eat for the 15 hours before my flight left. I was debating my purchase when the man in the suit seated next to me leaned over and spoke to the bartender in English.
“Hey, Frank. Put her beer on my tab, and make it a large one.” He then returned to his conversation in German with his associate.
I was mildly annoyed that he had intervened without even asking, or talking to me, but I did want a beer. So, I decided I had to say thank you, even if I had not wanted any help. When his associate left to use the restroom, I said, “That wasn’t necessary, but thanks all the same.”
He smiled at me. “I’d say it damn well was necessary. I saw how much money was in your purse. Plus, I’m going to put it on my expense account anyway.” His friend returned and they continued on in German. As I enjoyed my beer I made an appraisal of my fellow American. He was at least 40 and perhaps as old as my father who was 47. He wore a well-tailored suit and a crisp white shirt with a handsome, complementary tie. His clean appearance made me more aware of my grungy state of being. He was of medium height, and he was not heavy. Nor was he handsome. By the same token there was nothing unattractive about him either. He was the definition of average.
Eventually his partner stood up, the two men shook hands warmly, and I was left seated next to the American. My beer was almost done, and I prepared to leave.
“I’m having another beer. Want one?”
“I couldn’t impose.”
“Oh sure you could. Have you had a schnitzel here in Vienna yet?”
“No, canlı bahis şirketleri not yet.” The idea of a veal cutlet sounded delicious and it made my stomach gurgle out loud.
“Sounds like your stomach wants one.”
I started to say I was not hungry, but he had already waived to the bartender. The two men had a quick conversation, this time in German. I understood enough know he had ordered two more beers and two meals. My stomach demanded that I ceased to argue against the idea.
As I enjoyed my meal I shared the tales of my European vacation (minus the few sexual exploits Helen and I experienced) with my generous host. His name was Keith. It turned out Keith was a west coast American who came to Vienna several times a year on business. He had therefor learned German, even though he explained that almost all German speakers spoke English fluently.
When I had finished narrating my vacation story, Keith asked, “So, is that the story you’re gonna tell your parents?”
“It’s a nice recap, and it totally leaves out any tales of romance.”
“What makes you think there was any romance?”
Keith smiled broadly. “Now now, Melissa, a young lady can only look at museums for so long.”
I laughed out loud. “I don’t think my parents would be interested in that other part. Not that there was much.”
“But there was some. Good. So, what time does your flight leave?”
“Just before ten o’clock.”
Keith looked at his watch. “Shouldn’t you go check in soon?”
“Oh, it’s leaving at ten tomorrow morning.”
“Staying at the airport hotel tonight then?”
I felt flushed. I did not want to admit I planned to sleep in a chair in the concourse lounge, but I did not want to lie either. I clearly hesitated too long.
“You don’t have a place to sleep, do you, Melissa?”
“It’s fine. I’ve spelt in an airport before.”
“Don’t take this wrong, but I have a suite. It has a couch. If you want, you’re welcome to it. In fact you can have the bed, and I’ll take the couch. I have a meeting at 8 in the morning. I’ll wake you in time for your flight.”
I must have looked a bit scared, because he continued. “Melissa, I’m offering you a place to sleep. Nothing else. You can use the laundry service if you like, and they’ll even bring up breakfast.”
“Laundry service? Are you saying I smell?”
“Boy, are you defensive. You said you’ve been skimping for weeks. I am guessing laundry was not a priority.”
The idea of sleeping in a plastic chair and then getting on a transatlantic flight did not appeal to me. The thought of a bed, and a shower, and clean clothes was like a vision of heaven. The vision of my parents knowing I was contemplating spending a night in a strange man’s hotel room was like a vision of hell. However, my parents were five thousand miles away, and I was finishing my third large beer. “If you really don’t mind?”
“It’s settled then.” Keith asked for the bill and paid it.
The suite was sumptuous. It was large and clean and the sofa looked nicer than most of the beds I had slept in during the last month.
Keith told me to make a pile of laundry and he picked up the phone to call the valet. “There are robes in the closet. Just keep out what you plan to sleep in and I’ll have them wash the rest. It will be in front of the door before you wake up.”
“I really can’t….”
“Expense account. Now go change.”
I took my backpack to the bathroom and put on my last clean panties, a pair of running shorts, and a T-shirt. I quickly made a bundle of dirty clothes and wrapped it in my sweatshirt. I left the bathroom and set the laundry by the door.
“Go have a shower, Melissa. I need to send a few quick emails.” He opened up his laptop and put his reading glasses on.
I am not sure how long I showered, but I enjoyed every second of the hot water and privacy. When I finally came out, wearing a robe over my panties and T-shirt, I saw the laundry was gone. “My stuff will be back in time, right? I can’t really travel in running shorts and T-shirt.”
Keith gently closed the laptop. It will be back by dawn. These Austrians are anal retentive. I think I’ll go have a show too, if you’re done in there?”
“Are you sure you don’t want the bed?”
“I know better than to argue with a woman. There are blankets and extra pillows in the closet.” With that he went into the bathroom.
I settled into my couch and thought.
Keith exited the bathroom wearing boxers and a T-shirt. “I half expected to find you in my bed.”
This confused me. Had he expected me to take his offer to sleep in the bed while he took the couch, or had he expected me to be waiting in bed to sleep with him? “You expected me to be waiting the bed?”
“I said, I only half expected it. A man can dream, right?” And with that he climbed into bed. “Turn out the light when you go to sleep. canlı kaçak iddaa Sleep well.”
I quickly turned out the light so he could not see my embarrassed and perplexed face. As I lay there in the dark my mind whirled. I was going to be on a plane in twelve hours. I would never see Keith again. He was not gorgeous, but he was no unattractive, and he was clearly a nice man. Additionally, I have never been with a man who was age-inappropriate for me. I had friends who had, and their general critique was that older men were far more skilled and patient than the ‘boys’ we all normally dated.
I fell asleep in an instant. I rolled over to see the clock when I awoke. My first instinct was to think I had overslept, but the clock read 23:54: Just when a European Cinderella would find herself morphing back into a scullery maid. I got up to go to the bathroom: the beers had taken their toll. As I washed my hands I decided to be bold. I exited the bathroom in the dark. As I approached the bed I said, “You awake?”
“Yes. Yes, I am.”
“I don’t want to run into the bed.” I stepped cautiously forward until I found the bed. The covers were already pulled back.
“Come on in, Melissa. I’d love to have you sleep here.”
With that I crawled into bed.
“I’m so glad you came. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but I find you pretty.” He leaned over and kissed me. It was a gentle kiss at first. It grew more passionate as it continued, and he slowly rolled over on top of me. It was now that felt what seemed to be an enormous penis on my legs. I reached down more as a means of investigation than as a foreplay move. Oh my God, Keith was hung like no man I had ever been with, let alone seen.
At this point I wished I had stayed in my couch, away from this monster weapon of love. Keith’s hands were under my shirt rubbing my breasts as he continued to kiss me. Eventually he broke off the kiss and asked me if he could take off my panties. Before I could answer they were sliding over my ample hips, and Keith was sliding is face between my legs. I had not been eaten in ages: it seemed as if all the men I knew thought the road to sex was a one-way street named Blowjob Boulevard, never Cunnilingus Court.
Keith was an expert pussy eater. He tried different things, and he payed attention to my verbal cues. What I did not react to with gusto would cease, and what I approved of continued. My friends had been right about older guys. I felt like I was soaking the bed in my own lustful juices by the time Keith raised his face from crotch and came up to kiss me.
“I have condoms in my bag in the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” With that he was gone. The light came on in the bathroom, and he returned. The room was now no longer pitch black and I got my first visual of his cock. As he kneeled on the bed I could tell he was struggling to get the condom on. I assumed this was due to physics not inexperience.
“Don’t you want me to suck you?” I asked.
“Maybe later. Right now you’re very wet. We should try now.”
It seemed almost like a warning. As if to say, if I were not wet enough, his cock would never get inside of me. He was right, I was wet, and even so, it seemed like a great effort was needed as his tried to enter me. This situation was made worse by the fact I had only had sex once in the previous few months. He was patient and eventually worked most his cock into me. His penis was not overly hard, but there was no denying the sheer size. I could tell he was not trying to fuck me with the full length of his tool.
The sensation was unique and delightful. I have always had a bad trait of making more noise as I approach a good orgasm than I do when I actually come. Thus, several of my partners have mistaken my approach to an orgasm as the actual thing, and I have been left hanging on the precipice all too often, when one more gentle (or not so gentle) nudge was all that was needed. This turned out to not be an issue with Keith. He read me perfectly, and continued to fuck me even after I got quiet and came. I was able to bounce from my first to my third orgasm in rapid succession.
At this point I think he knew I was satisfied and he could enjoy me for his own ends. He began to hammer me harder and deeper. I felt like my entire being was being fucked…not just my pussy. On a few of his deeper thrusts I swear he hit my cervix; this was disconcerting but not altogether unpleasant. He was not a loud lover, and, since he was wearing a condom, I have no idea how much come he shot inside of me.
He kissed me tenderly, went into the bathroom, and then returned to me and held me and caressed my shoulders.
I smiled in the dark. “Your wife must hate you?”
“No. She’s quite fond of me actually. Why do you say that?”
“Having to service that beast of yours can’t be fun all the time. How does she manage?”
“Tequila,” he laughed.
We both fell canlı kaçak bahis asleep quickly.
I heard an alarm go off. I was in a state of mind where, briefly, I had no idea where I was: a month on the road in strange hotels and hostiles will do that to you. I felt Keith nuzzle up to me, and then he rolled me only my back.
“I have time for a quickie, Melissa. Are you game?” He said as he was opening up a package of condoms.
“You seem to be sure that I am.” I pulled back the covers. “Why not, we’re both leaving shortly.”
“That’s the spirit.” He got between my legs and began to finger me.
“Ouch,” I said sharply.
“Are you OK?”
“God damn, my pussy is sore.” I touched myself and could feel I was raw and red. Keith got off of me.
“I’m sorry, Sweetheart. I was too rough with you last night.”
“Not too rough, just too damn big.”
Keith began to get up.
“Lay back down, Mister. Just ’cause I’m sore, doesn’t mean I’m useless.”
“No?” he smiled as he lay back down.
I slithered down his body. Now that there was some daylight in the room I would finally get to see the weapon that had assaulted me. It was an impressive sight, I admit. My usual plan of attack was to suck a guy as deep and fast as I could until he came. Today, that strategy would find me barfing onto the crisp white sheets. I think he realized I was hesitating.
“Can I offer you some advice?”
Normally I did not want or need advice from a guy about sucking dick, but today I realized I was in over my head (Pardon the bad pun.) “OK.”
“Just suck the head, and lick the shaft. Use your hands to jerk me off. I’ll try to come fast.” He hesitated, “Do you swallow?”
“Fuck yes, I swallow.” And with that I placed my mouth over the giant tip of his cock. I am sure I looked like a landed bass fish as I did so. I also began to pump his shaft with my hand. I noticed my fingers were not nearly close to meeting as they slid down his meaty penis. I let lots of saliva run down the shaft to lubricate my hand-job efforts. I also took breaks to rest my jaw, and I continued to nibble and kiss his penis. I even teased is hairy balls with my tongue. I could tell my hand was getting him close to the point of no return, so I backed off. I assumed that at age 21 I was perhaps getting to see the biggest cock I might ever get to face. I wanted to savor the moment.
“Don’t tease me, Honey,” he encouraged me.
I found if I twisted my hand in a rotating fashion as I pumped up and down, Keith quickly began to moan louder. I decided to stop toying with him, and let him come. After all, he could have split me in two the previous night, but he did not.
“Oh, God, yes. Keep going. I’m gonna come.”
With that brief warning he grabbed my head. In the past I had gotten very mad when boys had tried to grab my head as I performed oral sex, but Keith seemed gentler. He certainly held me firmly, but he was not trying to force his cock down my throat. Perhaps he knew I was having a hard enough just accommodating the head of his cock into my mouth. I felt his tool twitch and I braced myself for the eruption. I’ve always appreciated men who gave some sort of a warning before they come in my mouth. It’s an awkward situation to suddenly find your mouth full if what seems like a pint of sticky, hot semen.
A rich creamy liquid oozed into my mouth. It was not a large amount, nor had it exploded with force, and after the initial dose the second and third shots were even smaller…the final one was almost not existent. I found it ironic that, while I had a double barreled weapon shoved into my mouth, the explosion had been gentle and far from lethal. Keith tasted good and had a thicker consistency than most guys I had sucked off. A quick swallow and it was all over.
I lay back down. Keith rubbed my stomach and comment on his enjoyment of my ministrations. He kissed me, and then got up to go shower. I fell asleep. When Keith nudged me, he was wearing a suit.
“I’ve set your parcel of clean laundry next to your backpack. I’ve also ordered room service to bring you a large breakfast. You should get dressed; they will be here any second. Here is some tip money for him,” Keith handed me some Euros, “and leave this money for the maids, please.” He then paused. “And take this money for drink money on the plane and in the airports as you travel home.”
“I don’t want your money, Keith. I’m not some whore.”
“No, you aren’t a whore. You’re just a slut. A whore wants money, a slut just wants sex.” He smiled, kissed my forehead, and I was no longer mad at him. He grabbed his suitcase and attaché case and exited the suite. The sumptuous breakfast arrived a few minutes later.
A few hours later I took my place in the narrow coach seat of a transatlantic bound airliner. My pussy and innards in general felt really sore. I tried to get comfortable, but could not.
It was days before I no longer felt sore. It was a fun experience to be with Keith, but I was glad it was his wife who had to deal with that giant cock on a daily basis.
In the years since that night, I never did find another man who quite measured up to Keith. Alas.
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