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This Birmingham bar, the Manor, was full like there was some a championship going down. However, there were no high profile games going on today. The drunken, horny men were there for a single reason: a date. The most beautiful reporter at a local sports channel, the Black and Orange Network, would be here to take a lucky man on a date. It was designed to promote this rather lackluster bar and the only reason such a place could have a promotion like this was because the owner happened to be the son of the CEO that ran the Network.
The name of this beautiful reporter was Cindy Shelby. She was a buxom blonde who always wore cleavage exposing dresses, hence her popularity. She had full lips, childbearing hips, and eyes like the deepest parts of the seas. She could lecture you for hours on basketball history and every facet of the sport. However, the best thing about her was her voice. She had a very distinguished, sophisticated voice. She could make men swoon simply by reading a dictionary.
I sat in my booth, typing away on my phone. I was texting a certain friend of mine, someone you meet on those fetish sites. They claimed to be a woman under the name BBallPAWG. I had no idea if they were, in fact, a woman. I didn’t care whether or not they were, though. I go both ways. I did appreciate their company.
This bar was a place where I spent my days writing. I was not the type to drink and I had no friends here. Writing is the loneliest profession. I liked the environment here, though, and the people reflected the characters I wrote about. So, I spent my time typing and ordering the occasional ginger ale or chicken sandwich.
The room soon became louder than usual and in came Cindy, dressed head to toe in basketball apparel from various teams. A Houston Rockets cap sat on her pretty blonde head, a Miami Heat jersey stretched over her large bosom, Lakers shorts stretched to her ankles, and even her shoes were from the Boston Celtics. She climbed onto a table, grabbed a microphone from somewhere, and stood above the whole bar as some employees introduced her. She gave a little speech promoting the bar (a speech most likely written by the bar owner) and soon began her search for a date.
You and I both know where this story is going. In any case, I was shocked to discover that she picked me. I hadn’t even dressed for the occasion. My shirt was greasy and dirty from my working on my car earlier this morning and I had a five o’clock shadow.
She hopped onto the floor and approached me, whispering in my ear to meet her behind the bar. I was glad. I don’t know if I could handle all those eyes watching my every move as I chatted up this beautiful woman. It’d be like being a piece of meat in a tank full of starving piranhas.
I met her in the alleyway behind the bar. It was a horrid, filthy place. She seemed like a shining ray of light in that darkness. As I approached, I asked her where we were going on that date.
“My place,” she said with a smile.
“Rather forward for a first date,” I mentioned, “especially for someone you don’t know.”
“I know you very much. That’s why I picked you,” she giggled. istanbul escort “We’ve been chatting for years.”
She explained that she was BBallPAWG. She recognized me from an old photo I’d left on my account. “My heart practically leaped out of my chest the moment I saw you. I’ve been wanting to meet you for so damn long. I hope you’re as dom and kinky in real life as you are online,” she said.
“I am,” I told her. I was a bit red in the face. It was hot that this was happening, but I felt a bit embarrassed. “I hope you’re as kinky in real life as you are online.”
“Even more so. Come on, I’ll drive you to my place. We can have a few drinks, chat, have some fun. It’ll be great.”
She grabbed my hand and took me to this green Lamborghini. We got in and she drove us to this large, magnificent building that sort of looked like a silver corncob. It was an older place, the Sisko Skyscraper (even though it wasn’t a skyscraper). Everyone with a net worth in the seven digits lived here. They were the only ones who could afford the astronomical rent. We talked the whole way. I was impressed by her genuine enthusiasm about meeting me and taking me back to her apartment.
As we arrived, she led me up to her apartment. We rode on the elevator, a tacky little thing for such a modernist piece of architecture. As we waited to get to the tenth floor, Cindy started rubbing my upper thigh with her hand. It sent an electric shock through my body.
The doors opened to the lounge suite and we went down a short hallway to this silver door. She unlocked it with a card she had on her and led me inside. It was a beautiful apartment, adorned in basketball paraphenelia. I noticed an 85-inch, 4K, ultra HD TV that must’ve cost $9,000; a huge black sofa that probably cost a few grand, a bar with hundreds of bottles of various alcohols, a futuristic kitchen, and way more than I can possibly describe. She led me onto the couch and made us some drinks before sitting right next to me.
I took a sip of my drink, not wanting to offend her and was shocked by the taste of a ginger ale. She seemed to notice my shock and laughed.
“Surprised? I noticed you didn’t have a drink at the Manor so I assumed you didn’t drink in general. It was a rather big assumption, I admit, but I wanted to be safe, not sorry.”
After we had had some drinks, she started rubbing my upper thigh again. “So, now that we’ve had some drinks, we can have some fun. If I remember correctly, you love throatfucking. How about you throatfuck me?”
My face went a bit red. I talk a good game. The problem is that my experience is limited. Severely limited. “I don’t want to ruin that amazing voice of yours,” I told her in a rather flirtatious manner.
She leaned over, bit her lip, and whispered, “Ruin it. After tonight, I better sound like I have laryngitis.”
Those words were perhaps the hottest thing a woman had ever said to me. My cock became as hard as concrete. I responded with “How about you dress in something sexy?”
She beamed and retreated into her bedroom. I waited for fifteen minutes. I avcılar escort almost wanted to leave. Patience, however, is a virtue and this virtue was rewarded with one of the most beautiful sights I’d ever seen. Cindy emerged from her den dressed in black lingerie that hugged her lithe yet muscular body (she did play basketball for fun and she was apparently really good). Lithe, except for two things. There was her cavernous cleavage, derived from the fact her already large breasts filled a bra a size or two too small. There was also the reason for her being called BBallPAWG. Her ass was like two milky bubbles, large yet perfectly in shape with her body (unlike her plastic, surgically-altered breasts) like Mia Malkova’s. Though, upon getting good handfuls of them later, I came to learn they were pure muscle.
She approached me and, before I had a chance to compliment her stunning appearance, she got down on her knees and began to unbutton my pants. She threw them and my boxers a considerable distance away and wolfed down my cock. Her soft lips felt like smooth velvet as they repeatedly massaged my head every time she went back and forth, from the head to the hilt, repeatedly deepthroating.
“You’re so good,” I moaned.
“You’re so big,” she moaned back. I’d never been confident about my size so her saying this was the biggest compliment she could give me. Getting throated by her was great, but knowing she thought I was hung was the best thing that happened tonight.
Her words seemed to awaken something in me. I grabbed the back of her head and started throatfucking her. I could see the absolute joy in her eyes when I started being more dominating. I started using her ponytail (she never usually wore a ponytail but I had the feeling she knew I would get aggressive tonight) and began pounding her throat like a pussy.
Her rocking back and forth, causing her huge tits to strain against the already small bra, lead to the poor fabric snapping. She didn’t stop and just tossed it in the mountain of clothes forming over in a corner.
“Have you ever titfucked before?” I asked her.
Letting my cock fall out of her mouth, she said, “Nope, but there’s a first for everything.”
She took her huge boobs and wrapped my cock in a marshmallow paradise. All the while, I continued my aggressive fucking of her throat. Her spit covered my entire crotch, her whole face (leading to an absolutely beautiful sight of her mascara running down her face), and had dripped onto her breasts.
“You’re my fucking whore. Say it.”
I let her come up for air and she screamed it with so much joy you’d think she was at a rock concert. “I’m your fucking whore! Ruin my fucking career. Puncture my fucking voice box with your cock. Ruin me!”
I was so turned on by her saying that. I noticed that her bar was about level with my crotch. I had an idea.
“Go over to your bar and lay on it. If I’m going to really fuck your throat like a pussy, your mouth needs to be perfectly level with my cock.”
She was ecstatic at my suggestion, ran over and laid down on the brown tile. I walked over there and let şirinevler escort my cock rest on her chin. I needed a lot of energy and stamina.
“So, we having a second date after tonight?” I asked as I caught my breath.
“I’ll tell you what, if you make me sound like a smoker tomorrow, we’re going on a second, third, and fourth date. You make me sound all groggy and raspy, I’m basically your girlfriend. Deal?”
“Good. Now, unleash all that pent up, primal, masculine energy and fuck my throat like a bitch’s pussy. Use these huge titties,” she said as she shook her body, letting her tits shake with her, “as something to grab onto. I’d love if you bruised them.”
With that, I grabbed her tits, placed my cock in her mouth, and took a deep breath. Then, I released all that energy she mentioned. For ten minutes, I went as hard as I could as fast as I could. Her copious amounts of spit flew everywhere. My balls honestly hurt from the repeated collisions with her face. I gripped her tits with as much force as my body could muster. I wasn’t trying to hurt her but I needed to hold onto something for dear life.
Eventually, my tired body stopped and unleashed a massive load into her stomach. It took at least a minute for my cock to stop spasming. I took my cock out of her throat and made sure she was still conscious and alive. I was relieved to see that I didn’t choke her to death with my cock. In fact, she was conscious the whole time.
She was ecstatic and tried to communicate her feelings but couldn’t speak. I was worried I actually hurt her, especially because of the two huge bruises forming on her breasts. She wrote down on a napkin that she was fine and we exchanged numbers. I told her I had to go (it was getting late) and she told me to check her show in the morning.
The next morning (well, more like later that morning), I sat in my usual booth, typing away a story. The bar was much emptier than yesterday and much quieter. As I typed away some science fiction tale I’d weaved, I heard a growing cacophony and realized that Courtside Camera was coming on. I turned around and watched the introduction with its blaring horns play out.
The first five minutes was nothing but random basketball news. Then came the words that always evoked a response from bar crowds, “And now Cindy Shelby at the University of Birmingham for the latest Blazers news. Cindy?”
The feed cut to Cindy, wearing a much more modest outfit than usual. She started speaking in a groggy, raspy voice. I wasn’t really focused on what she said. I was just relieved she could speak. The host of Courtside Camera, Maria da Silva, noticed Cindy’s raspiness and asked her about it.
“Well, Maria, I think I came down with something. It’s like I was fine yesterday then something just came into my throat and made me all raspy, you now?”
Maria seemed concerned. “Well, hopefully you get better soon. You have one of the moat beautiful voices in television.”
“Aw, thanks,” Cindy cooed before signing off.
A minute or so later, I got a text from Cindy. “Second date tonight?”
“Sure,” I texted, “but you’re going to have to rest that throat of yours.”
She replied, “I have an ass for a reason.” After that was a selfie of her spit-covered face from last night. “Something to keep you occupied until tonight,” she wrote with a heart emoji.
I smiled and returned to my writing. The bar soon became quiet. It was peaceful.
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