Bimbotastic
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Bimbo Ch. 04 free porn video
‘At least he made you come,’ says Sam.
‘Yes. Several times, too.’
‘So what’s the problem, then?’
Sam takes the pasta of the stove and pours the water out into the sink. He has invited Ellenor over for dinner, and he has made his specialty, ‘tagliatelle con funghi e spinacchi’.
‘I guess there IS no problem,’ says Ellenor. ‘I got what I wanted. So why am I disappointed?’
Sam ponders the question while he fills two plates with sauce and pasta.
‘What where you looking for when you went out?’ he asks.
‘To meet a nice, good-looking guy and fuck with him.’
‘Which is what you got. Well, sort of. You got orgasms, but no fucking. But is that REALLY what you wanted? Remember you told me that you wanted a nice, normal guy with a big dick, who wanted to have sex in a bed, preferably one who was good with his tongue? You forgot to say that you wanted him to actually be able to fuck you, too!’
Ellenor laughs.
‘And if I had remembered to specify that, I might have met someone like that, except he wouldn’t have wanted to fuck me, because I forgot to add that he must also WANT to fuck me,’ she says. ‘I get it. You never get exactly what you want, only what you ask for.’
‘Exactly,’ says Sam. ‘Be careful what you wish for – you just might get it!’
They leave the subject of men while they’re eating, and instead they discuss Sam’s excellent cooking, his last trip top Italy, and the food in Toscana. Not until Sam serves them both tea, does he bring up the topic of men again.
‘Perhaps you’re going to the wrong places,’ he says. ‘I mean, Chamber, The Golden Ring, Fastlane… they’re for teenagers – and for men in their 40s – perhaps you should try some place more sophisticated?’
‘I’m not very sophisticated, myself,’ she protests.
‘Oh, yes, you are! You may not be Jackie O, but you’re classy and stylish, and you know how to use a knife and fork – trust me, honey, that’s all there is to it, really!’
‘And you think I wouldn’t risk finding a man with a small dick or a man who comes too soon in a sophisticated place?’
‘Of course you might. But honestly, dear – is that REALLY what’s bothering you?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, if you’re just looking for sex, why do you get so disappointed when the guy turns out to have a flaw?’
‘Are you playing Freud on me?’
‘You’re not looking for a lover, you’re looking for a boyfriend.’
She pours herself another cup of tea, and tries to give her feelings an honest evaluation.
‘I wouldn’t say that I’m LOOKING FOR a boyfriend,’ she says. ‘But I wouldn’t mind having one. You know… if the chemistry was right.’
‘I knew it,’ says Sam, and curls up in a corner of the sofa, folding his long legs to the side. ‘You’re just not the type of woman who flutters through life, going from one man to the other. You’re the type who gets married!’
She threatens to throw a pillow on him.
‘So, if you’re gonna find anyone who’ll last a little longer than merely one night, I suggest you abandon the kiddy clubs, and try something a bit more… adult.’
That makes Ellenor think of ‘Timewarp’ and the clubs around that neighborhood. She doubts that she would find any suitable man around there. Interesting men in abundance, absolutely, but not interesting as in potential lovers for herself!
‘What do you suggest?’ she says.
Deciding to upscale her choice of men, she decides to go to a club in the more expensive parts of town. With a little help from Sam, she has also updated her wardrobe to include a simple black linen dress that costs almost half her paycheck, even though it looks so simple.
‘It’s featured in Vogue,’ says Sam. ‘Trust me, darling, the rich kids will know what it is. This little thing is your ticket into the Big Boys’ Party!’
And, as usual, Sam is right, He’s a guru of style, and Vogue is his bible. The doorman throws one glance at her, and lets her pass the crowd of wannabes outside the club. This club is obviously decorated by an interior architect, but she doubts that Mark has had anything to do with this. The whole place is a tribute to money. Not in the flashing of money, but in the things that money can – and can’t buy. The furniture and the walls are functional and basic, almost primitively so, but they breathe craftsmanship and quality, of tranquility and serenity. A longing for some peace and quiet in a busy world, perhaps? She orders an overpriced glass of mineral water, and starts to mingle. The music’s different as well. No rap or hip-hop, no hit list songs. There are two dance floors, one with a live jazzband on stage, one with a DJ playing classic rock n’ roll from the 80’ies, which makes the crowd of people ages 25-35 go ‘awwww – THIS one!’ every 3 minutes. Ellenor sticks to the latter. Jazz really isn’t her thing. She dances alone in a corner, enjoying the beat of yesteryears, trying not to think of how long it has really been since these songs were brand new. She’s only 27, it’s way too soon to think of the rushing of time. She’s out to have fun, damned it! And fun she has. She has serious trouble ever getting off the dance floor, as the DJ keep playing all her favorite tunes. She just has to dwell on the memory of her first kiss, by Robbie Hayes, in the 7th grade, who let her listen to ‘Heaven Is A Place On Earth’ on his walkman. She has to sink down in bittersweet memory about her first real boyfriend, Garrett, who danced with her at every school dance in Senior High, humming ‘Time, Love & Tenderness’ by Michael Bolton. The music changes into ‘Eternal Flame,’ and people pair up to slow-dance. Finally, a chance to get something to drink! She’s about to leave the floor when someone puts a hand on her arm and asks her to dance. She gladly accepts. He’s really handsome, tall and strong, wide shoulders, and a well-groomed goatee. He doesn’t talk while they’re dancing, he doesn’t sing along or hum or try to cup a feel, he just holds her in his strong arms and they float over the floor. He’s a good dancer, and she’s rather disappointed when the nice tune is replaced by the theme from ‘Ghostbusters’.
‘Care for a drink?’ says her dance partner.
‘A glass of water would be nice,’ she says.
He escorts her to the bar, and orders a martini for himself and another glass of mineral water for her.
‘You don’t drink?’ he asks. ‘Not at all?’
‘Nothing stronger than this,’ she smiles.
‘Mind if I smoke?’ he asks, and pulls out a cigar and a lighter.
‘Yes,’ she says. ‘I DO mind. I’m allergic to smoke.’
His hands stop just as he’s about to light his cigar. He raises his eyebrows at her, but puts the lighter and the cigar away like a good boy.
‘You don’t drink, you don’t smoke… don’t you have any vices at all?’ he says.
She gives him a dirty smile.
‘Only two,’ she says. ‘The second is chocolate.’
He licks his lips, looks at her, grinning back at her.
‘And the first…?’
‘You figure it out.’
He moves a little closer, bites off his martini.
‘Hmmm…’ he says, pretending to think hard. ‘You’re a shopaholic?’
‘No more than other women,’ she laughs.
He places his hand on her knee.
‘You’re a shoe fetishist?’
‘Nope.’
His hand moves up to her thigh.
‘You’re a cyber-freak?’
‘Would I be here if I was addicted to computers?’
His hand is under her skirt, it passes her stay-up stocking and caresses warm skin. His nails scrape against the sensitive skin on her inner thigh, making her twitch. The muscles in her thigh tighten.
‘I’m out of guesses,’ he says. ‘I think you better tell me.’
She covers his hand with her own.
‘I’m a sucker for long, hot sex with anonymous men,’ she whispers.
He grips her thigh.
‘Just like that?’ he says. ‘You’re not even gonna tell me your name? Miss X, I belie
ve you’re trying to seduce me!’
She smiles, picks a green grape out of a fruit bowl, and crushes it between her front teeth.
‘Do you have honest intentions?’ he teases her. ‘Or are you gonna take advantage of my body and leave me with a broken heart?’
The way I do it, nothing gets broken,’ Ellenor assures him. ‘It just gets a little sore…’
He gulps down the last of his martini, and offers her his arm.
‘Shall we?’
As gracious as she knows how to be, she places her hand on his arm, and he walks her to the wardrobe, where they get their coats. She’s glad that they’re taking a cab, her coat os well tailored but thin, and it’s a little chilly outside. He puts an arm around her while he waves to a passing taxi. It pulls over, and he opens the door for her. He’s caressing her leg all the way back to her place. She’s beginning to worry that her stockings are gonna be around her ankles by the time she gets home. He pays for the cab while she hurriedly checks that her legs look decent, then they walk into the house and into the elevator. The doors haven’t closed behind them before he’s kissing her, impatiently unbuttoning her coat. What is it with men and elevators? She wonders. Why do they always get so horny inside elevators? Is it perhaps the naughtiness of being in semi-public? Like kids hiding in a secret hideout, peeking out at the world? He fondles her butt while she unlocks the door, he follows her into the dark hallway, closes the door behind him, turn her around, and kisses her again. They leave a trail of clothes through the hallway, into the bedroom. They fall down on the bed together, naked. He takes his time to caress her body slowly, and he lets each touch of his strong hands be followed by another caress of his tongue. He’s not just handsome and sensual, he’s also well endowed, circumcised, and clean-shaven. She plays with his balls with one hand, and sucks his beautiful cock into her mouth. He’s so long that she can’t get all of it in her mouth without gagging.
‘Easy there, baby!’ he mumbles. ‘This isn’t a porn-flick – just suck the head… yeah… just like that… and stroke me while you’re sucking!’
She does her best to imitate the real thing, moving her hand and mouth in sync, with slow, flowing movements.
‘Do you have any protection?’ he asks, making a face as he tries to stay calm.
She gets a condom out of her desk drawer, and tears it up with her teeth, growling playfully. He laughs. She rolls it down over his cock, and climbs up on him, sinks down over his cock, and he grabs on to the headboard and arches his back to meet her movements.
‘Yes, baby!’ he pants. ‘Ride me, baby! Ride your pony, cowgirl!’
Cowgirl? She giggles, she can’t help it. Cowgirl???
‘I love your laugh!’ he says. ‘Come on, girl! Work on it! Ride me, baby!’
The only way to shut him up is to kiss him, and the only way to stop him from making her lose her excitement is to stop him from talking. She bends down and covers his mouth with her own, sucks on his tongue and holds it captive in her mouth. He takes hold of her, rolls over and lifts her legs up in the air, burying himself inside her. His face is free, and he starts talking again.
‘Do you like this, baby?’ he asks.
‘Yes!’ she says.
‘You like my big cock?’
‘Yes!’
‘Is it all big and hard?’
‘Yes!’
‘Is it filling up your cunt?’
‘Yes!’
‘Say it!’
‘I like this, baby, I like your cock, it’s all big and hard, it fills up my cunt!’
‘God, baby! You’re so nasty! Nasty and goooooooood!
She starts giggling again.
‘You’re so fun and so glad,’ he pants. ‘It feels so good fucking you!’
OK, she’s now forced to bring out her secret weapon. She blocks his babbling out, and starts imagining. His features change, and all of a sudden she’s staring at the face of Russell Crowe, a tender, loving, horny Russell Crowe.
‘Oh, yes, baby!’ she cries out. ‘Yes! YES!’
‘Are you coming?’
‘Yes! Fuck me, baby! Ram it into me! Yes!’
Russell Crowe is fucking her, nibbling her neck, making her come, just like he has done so many times before, on lonely nights when all she had to do, the only one she had to do, was her faithful toy, Mr. Rabbit. After he has come, he curls up next to her, kissing her. She’s tired but happy. He’s too tired to talk. She snuggles up in his arms, and they fall asleep.
The next morning, he’s up early. When she wakes up, he’s already dressing, talking into his cellular phone.
‘Uh-huh? I see. And what about Biocomp? 2 up? Wide Calc? Shit!’
So he’s a stockbroker? She gets out of bed, yawning. He throws her a glance, smiles, and goes back to his important phone call.
‘What about Okapi? Yes, I know it’s not out yet, but you have to have an idea of where it’s heading? Uh-huh…? Yes. Yes. Of course not!’
She pulls a hand through her hair, messing it up.
‘Coffee?’ she mimes to him, and he nods, smiling gratefully.
‘What? Are you sure? That much? Put me up for 150! No, I won’t!’
He doesn’t even bother to lower his voice. He obviously doesn’t think that she understands what he’s talking about. She’s just a sleepy, airheaded sex kitten, right? She listens shamelessly to the rest of his conversation while she makes coffee. She takes out two cups and fills them up, then carries them out to him. He’s putting on his shoes, still talking.
‘No. No! Drop Romata, they’re going down. Niles Luxy… Yes. That’s right. What? Natoura? How do you spell it? N-A-T-O-R-A? Japanese? That much? OK, 200, then. Yes.’
She hands him his cup, and brings her own back to bed with her. She drinks a little, stretches her body, and pretends to do her morning exercise. He finishes his call.
‘Thanks for the coffee, baby!’ he says, swallowing the last of the coffee. ‘I gotta go to work!’
‘On a Saturday?’ she says, opening her eyes wide. ‘You poor thing!’
‘I cry all the way to the bank!’ he jokes, just like Mark. ‘Besides, this was an… invigorating experience!’
She walks him to the door, and kisses him goodbye.
‘Nice meeting you, Miss X!’ he says, and pinches her ass before he leaves.
She locks the door and jumps into the shower. It’s early, but her head feels wide-awake. She’s full of ideas. She has to talk to Sam. Her bimbo-experiment has just opened up a whole new field of possibilities!
Yvette
- 20.01.2021
- 7
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