Getting Nailed
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Getting Nailed free porn video
Although the conference was crowded, I spotted her the second I walked
into the hotel bar. She still couldn't pull it off, I thought. She had
all the makings, but somehow it never quite came together. By all
rights she should have gotten the executive promotion. She just didn't
have the style. But style was what I did best, and I loved it.
I approached her. I crossed the room in my tailored suit. It went well
with my chiseled jaw, 6 foot 3 inch strut, and my perfect hair. I paid
attention to these things. DemCo may have claimed to be about
substance, but style was what got one ahead in the company.
"Hello, Pamela," I said. I was deliberate, but sensitive. It would not
do to have ignored her. After all, I had seduced her, pretended I was
her boyfriend, discovered her weaknesses, and taken advantage of her for
my promotion.
"Hello, Mel." She was flat, but not cold. I offered to buy her a drink.
And then another. And one more.
Half an hour later I was a little drunk. Well, maybe more than a
little. But I didn't need the alcohol to remind me that Pamela, in her
way, was pretty damn sexy. I had even made a bet with my buddies, I'd
nail her. And I did. What she needed was a total makeover, but, as
some guy on the tube over the bar was saying, "the fundamentals were
strong." I looked at her hair. It was frizzy when it should have been
coiffed, straightened, and cut to highlight her strong cheekbones. She
should have worn make-up - not just the nominal amount of lip gloss, but
a good make up job. Her fingernails were simply awful. And her
clothes. God, when was the last time she had shopped for a decent
outfit. She had a perfect, bountiful rack that she kept hidden under
drab and shapeless clothes. Had she given any thought to any of these
things, had she used even any of her wiles, she would right now be my
boss. Instead, I was keynoting the conference and she, well, she had
landed on her feet at some second-rate company.
I must have expressed at least some of this to her, but I couldn't quite
recall what I'd said out loud.
What I know I said was this: "Well, at least the sex was pretty good,
wasn't it?"
"Oh yes," Pamela sighed. "I miss it . . . a little." Then she took a
plastic carded room key from her purse and slid it along the bar towards
me. "447," she murmured. Then she swiveled on her bar stool and melted
into the crowd.
I looked at the key. "Oh man," I thought. She didn't even care that
I'd totally fucked her over. She wanted more. I was going to nail her
again!
I stumbled to the elevator and made my way to 447. By the time I got to
the door, my tie was off and I had a raging hard-on. Despite her messy
appearance, she was great in bed. Promotion, keynote, and I was still
going to get some of Pamela's fantastic pussy.
I opened the door.
Pamela was already naked and standing in the dim ring of light coming
through the hotel window. I undressed quickly.
She smiled at the sight of my engorged dick. From her palm she withdrew
a small spray vile. It looked like breath freshener. She approached
me and sprayed it on my penis, coating it.
"What the hell?" It tingled. "What's this?"
"This is going to make you feel like a brand new person," she said,
putting a hang-nailed finger to my lips. With her other hand she
reached down and began to massage me. I grew harder. Then she got down
on her knees and began to give me the best blowjob I'd ever experienced.
"Wow." I muttered. Whatever was in that spray, I was loving it. My
dick got harder than I'd ever thought possible. I became hornier and
hornier, desperate to cum. She brought me to the verge of orgasm and
held me there for what seemed an eternity. I wanted desperately to cum,
but I just seemed to get harder, and when I didn't think I could
possibly get harder, I did. I was getting to the point of intense pain.
Through her sucking and licking and blowing she began to mutter.
"I've been studying, baby. You know that? I've had a lot of time to
think, what with being unemployed for a year. Oh, you like that, don't
you? Mmmmhmmm. Baby, guess what? I've studied up on some pretty
fascinating things. Did you know - oh yeah, that's the way to get even
harder now - did you know, magic is real?"
I was writhing now, pounding the bed with my fists wildly, trying to
figure out whether to push her away or grab her head and pound it down
even further, up and down, over my dick.
"Yes," she continued, "magic is very real. And it is the best way to
get revenge."
I had no clue what she was talking about. I was just in incredible
pain, when suddenly, I exploded. She pulled away and I found myself
flailing about, shooting cum powerfully across the room in violent,
staccato bursts. I was yelling in pain and relief. The cum kept firing
out of my dick, like a firehose or a geyser. I never knew I had so much
in me. The floor began to get wet beneath me, puddles of cum accreting
on the carpet. Spasm after spasm, wave after wave, I felt myself
reeling out of consciousness and the last thing I saw before I crashed
face first into a pond of my own cum, was Pamela's evil smile.
When I awoke, I could feel she was wiping me down. It must have been
only a few minutes. My head was pounding and my eyesight was blurry. I
was in a fog, but the wild orgasm was over.
"This won't do," she said. "We need to get your strength back and can't
let you outside covered in this stuff." She helped me up and helped me
put on my clothes. The room was spinning and I could hardly breathe. I
felt strange. All proportions were off, like I was on some sort of acid
trip. For a few seconds, it seemed like Pamela was taller than me.
"Come on," she said sweetly. "We'll get you fixed up. The sex was
pretty good, though, wasn't it?" She said that last comment with biting
irony.
She helped into the elevator and then we made our way out of the hotel
and off the main street, around the corner and into a brightly lit
restaurant. I guess it was a restaurant. Some chink joint - only some
slant-eye could read the weird language on the glass. We sat down at a
table across from each other. Some old oriental guy came over and
muttered something to Pamela and she nodded. With my salary now, I
didn't go to these kinds of places. Fluorescent-lit dives. He brought
me a mug and Pamela told me to drink. "This will make you feel like a
new person."
Where had I heard that before, I thought as I drank.
"You bet your buddies you'd quote unquote nail me, didn't you?'
"Yes," I admitted meekly.
"You seduced me, stole my promotion, and believed that your style was
more important than my substance, didn't you?"
"Yes," I said. "But it's true. If you'd only cared about style, I'm
sure you would have made the right impression."
"I should be judged on my work product, not my tits," she said. I
looked at her tits. Wonderful tits. I wished mine were as big as hers
and not so small.
I shook my head. What the hell?
"Drink up," she said. I drank.
Things began to clear. I could see the sign clearly now. It wasn't
some weird language. It was plain as day. Palace of Great Beauty Nail
Salon, it read. That was strange.
I took another sip and put the mug down. I felt fuzzy, but my head was
no longer pounding. I looked up into Pamela's eyes. They were hard.
Suddenly she reached out and grabbed my throat and squeezed. I coughed
and struggled and choked and she let go.
I spat out. "Wha you do that fowah?" I coughed again. "Wha happen to
mayee voice?" Wha you do?" Pamela laughed.
"Why you laugh? This not funny. I sound like speak no Engrish. I
speak Engrish. I no have accent? Why this happen?" No matter how I
tried, my voice sounded high pitched, accented and broken. Pamela
smiled. "You could have fooled me," she said. I then began to curse at
her a long string of profanities which she couldn't mistake. "Whoa,"
she said. "This is America. Speak English."
"I speak in Engrish!" I yelled. "I speak good Engrish." As I got
angrier the words flooded out of me, much as I vaguely recalled the cum
flooding out of me. "I study rear hard. Speak Engrish good. Get A-1
job. Make money. Wolk hee vely hard."
"And what do you do?" Pamela asked.
"I nair you. I do you nairs. Make you pletty. Vely pletty."
What the hell was I saying? I struggled to gain composure. I held my
hand up to my face to rub my forehead and was met by slender brown
fingers with the most beautiful French nails. I was transfixed for a
moment. Pamela interrupted my thoughts. I struggled to understand her.
It seemed so hard to think and to concentrate.
"Yes," she smiled. "I think I'd like you to "nail" me."
"Oh!" I found myself exclaiming. "Yes. I make you pletty. Hail and
nairs. Look!" I held up a mirror but found it was facing me. I looked
at it and cocked my head slightly. Staring back at me was a tiny little
Asian face, beautifully made up, with black silken hair and bright red
lips. I looked down. Under my white coat was a black tube top pushing
up small, but full round breasts, a tight black mini dress enveloping a
tiny waist, then slender brown legs, and feet encased in four inch red
heels that only just reached the floor.
I had another spasm and a bright flash. I shook it off.
"You have boyflend?" I asked the girl. "Why you no have boyflend? I
terr you. You have Flench nairs, you get boyflend. You get boyflend
back I make you pletty. See Mee Ho nairs?" I waived my beautiful nails
in front of her proudly. "Mee Ho have many boyflends. Mee Ho give A-1
browjob, too." I giggled and covered my mouth with my pretty hands.
"Yes," I said. "I nair you and you get back boyflend."
"Oh," the girl said. "I already got back at my boyfriend."
"You talk too fast, pletty lady. Mee Ho no understand you."
Then she put out her hand and I knew how proud I would be once I
transformed this lady into a beautiful woman. Style was what I did best
and I loved it.
Alma
- 15.09.2021
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