I could see that I was going to have to be gentle with my new lover. I helped him out of his clothes while he peeled my dress over my head. Within a few minutes of arriving in the suite, we were both naked and the atmosphere was getting decidedly hot and steamy. Clint was on his back now, with me just above him, my boobs dangling in his face. His tongue stretched out, grabbing a lick at my nipples whenever possible. I turned around and swung my leg over his body, so that my head was now facing his feet. And then I gently lowered my butt until my pussy reached his face. I didn’t have to go far, as his head was straining up to reach me. He buried his head in my damp folds, his tongue eating along every inch of my vulva. He was gentle though, and the pressure of his lips against my most sensitive areas made me shudder with simple, sexual pleasure.
Well, two could play at that game – and it’s a lot more fun when they do. So I lowered my head until my lips were barely touching his erect and visibly throbbing penis. It was a very interesting view. Clint had one of those dicks with a kink that bent it to one side, and I knew that promised a very interesting fucking session. But we weren’t ready for that yet. I let his banana dick slide slowly into my mouth, allowing the flesh to rub gently over my teeth. From the noises he was making, I was sure Clint was about to come. So I backed off a little, allowing him to regain control. A little pre-cum was forming around the tip of his penis, and I couldn’t resist a little lick to taste it. Just as it should be, warm and salty.
I wanted to blow him properly, but I could see that if I did, Clint would be over the edge within seconds. What’s a girl to do in such a situation? An intriguing question, but Clint had the answer.
‘Angel, I can’t wait any longer, I have to have you now,’ he said, and the breathless tone in his voice confirmed what he was saying. Well, that was OK by me. Whoever said it is better to give than to receive was way off the mark. Giving head is fun, sure – but receiving a good length of dick in your pussy is even better, in my humble opinion. Clint, however, seemed to look at it differently – he was ready to start giving in a big way. No problem. I’ve been on the receiving end of a dick once or twice before. Maybe more (cough!)
All of a sudden, Clint was beginning to take control. All that testosterone seemed to be kicking in, and now he was a man on a mission. I found myself face down on the bed, with Clint positioning himself over the top of me. My legs were still together, but Clint squeezed his way in, forcing his dick between the back of my thighs and finding my vagina wet and ready for him.
‘Christ, that’s good. Angel, you’ve got a great pussy…nice and tight. It’s making me want to fuck you.’
Well, yeah…that’s the general idea, Clint. Millions of years of evolution gone into making pussy irresistibly attractive to men. A hell of a good idea that one, whoever thought of it. Clint seemed to think so, too. He started pounding as if this was the only pussy he was going to get for the rest of his life. He ground into me in a way that told me he was extracting as much pleasure as possible from every stroke. So was I. There is something very erotic about being fucked when you can’t even see the man who is fucking you. Clint started fast, and got faster and faster. The next thing I knew, it was all over. Clint pulled out and with an animal roar, he sprayed hot and sticky cum all over my buttocks, and right up my back.
That was all over rather quickly for my liking – I could easily have gone another hour or two. But it’s not every night that you get seduced in the presidential suite of a posh Las Vegas hotel, so I wasn’t complaining. Just another sexual experience to add to my memoirs.
***
When I woke up in the morning, I was ready for round two. I thought that with a good night’s sleep behind him, Clint might be able to hold out at least long enough for me to get an orgasm or two. But when I looked at his side of the bed, I was surprised to find it empty.
No Clint.
‘Clint?’
I got up and checked around the suite, but he was nowhere to be seen.
What the fuck?
The sun streaming through the windows told me that we were well into morning, and when I looked at the bedside clock, it read 10.03am. Next to the clock I saw a note and a bulging envelope. I picked up the note and read it.
Angel
Thanks so much for a fantastic night. So sorry, but something came up and I have to dash back to New York on urgent business. I hope the enclosed is enough to cover your services.
Clint
Services? What services?
I picked up the envelope and looked inside. It was stuffed with fifty dollar bills. Sixty of them. There were three thousand dollars in the envelope. I know I was a bit slow, but it took a little while for the reality of the situation to sink in.
Clint thought I was a hooker.
***
Now, I’ve absolutely nothing against hookers. Some of my best friends are hookers. Well, actually they’re not – but they could be. I wouldn’t mind at all. But me? No way. I like sex – I’m not denying that, and I do get through more men than your average college netball team. So you can call me a slut if you want, or any one of a dozen rude names.
But not a whore. For me, sex is recreation, not work. I must admit, I did once use sex to get my car repaired for free (see Episode #3), but only after the mechanic and I had already established a relationship. That was just a kind of bonus. So it was a hell of a shock to think that Clint had marked me down as just another Las Vegas hooker. I showered and got dressed in a real huff, and stomped out of Clint’s incredibly expensive hotel back to my amazingly cheap one. I was checking out. I had seen enough of this crazy town. I was going to pack my stuff and drive back to my real life as a student in Texas.
Now if you have read any of my other adventures, you may know about The Rocket (also in Episode #3). That’s the ancient Nissan Pulsar that passes as my car. It looks like crap, but it really does go like a rocket. And it only breaks down occasionally. I checked out of my hotel and loaded my stuff into The Rocket. I drove out of town, very conscious that the money Clint had given me was ten times more than I paid for my car.
Three thousand bucks. For having fun with a guy?
I’ll be honest. For a while I was tempted to think about reversing my position on the hooker thing. Hell, if you can pick up three thousand bucks for a couple of hours of easy work, life becomes a whole lot interesting. I started to do the math. Three guys a night, three thousand bucks a go...say two hundred nights a year. That was…heck, a hell of a lot. I failed Math, so I couldn’t work out the exact number. But it would be awesome. Then again, I thought about the sad old hookers I’d seen being rounded up on TV cop shows – drugged to the eyeballs and looking twenty years older than they actually were. I decided that wasn’t the future I wanted, so I kept heading for Texas. I still hadn’t figured out what to do with the money. God knows it would have come in handy for gas and food. But I kept the whole three thousand tucked in my purse and got by on my own money. It was hard, but it made me feel good.
I stopped and bought myself some chocolate. That made me feel even better. It always does. A few Mars bars can make a lot of problems go away.
***
I’ve always wanted to see the Grand Canyon, so I decided I would make a stop there on my way back. It wasn’t exactly on my route – hell, its’ not on anyone’s route – but it was close enough to be worth the trip. It took me longer than I expected to get there, and by the time I finally reached the canyon itself, the midday sun was beating down on the desert. But the view was quite amazing, and I was glad I had made the effort to get there.
I stayed as long as I could, but I couldn’t hang around too long. I needed to get back on the road. I fired up The Rocket and started driving back towards the main highway. But I hadn’t got that far when something struck me.
Do you remember that scene in the movie Thelma and Louise…where they drive off the Grand Canyon at the end? That was such a moving scene. I cried the first time I saw it, and the image has stuck in my head ever si
nce. But I thought the view of the canyon I could see in the distance was the exact spot where Thelma and Louise had done their suicide plunge. I couldn’t be sure, but I wanted to check it out.
Now if you think that’s silly, it’s nothing compared to what I did next. You see, there was no road going to that part of the canyon. There was just desert. And it was clearly too far to walk. I looked at the terrain, and it didn’t seem too rough to me. Hell, if Thelma and Louise could drive across it in their convertible, then I could do it in The Rocket, right? Easy. I thought it was worth a try, anyway. If things got sticky, I would just turn around and come back. So off I went.
I turned off the road and bumped up onto the flat desert plain. And driving was easy. Heck, who needs roads? This was fun. I fixed my view on the part of the canyon I wanted to reach, and trundled along at a cautious pace. At least, I was cautions to start with. But after I had gone a mile or so without any problems, I decided that there was no reason why I couldn’t go faster. Things got a little bumpier, but it was no big deal.
The only trouble was I couldn’t see that well. The Rocket was kicking up a cloud of red dust as it went, obscuring my vision. I stopped for a moment to check my orientation. Even after ten minutes or so of driving, I didn’t seem to be any nearer the part of the canyon I was aiming for. But there was worse news than that. From this angle, it didn’t look anything like the scene from Thelma and Louise. It was just a bunch of rocks. I was aiming for the wrong place altogether.
By this time, even I could see that I had sent myself on a rather stupid wild goose chase. What on earth was I thinking of? Best to turn round and head back for the road. So I turned The Rocket in a semi-circle and headed back the way I had come.
At least, I thought it was the way I had come. But it all looked pretty much the same. The road was too low to see, and I hadn’t thought to note any other visual features to help me find my way back. When I had driven for twenty minutes without hitting the road, I was pretty sure I had missed it altogether. But there was no-one in sight – no sign of human habitation anywhere. I would just have to keep going until I hit the road, or found someone who could help me. I drove and drove without getting anywhere. In fact, I had a sneaky suspicion I may have gone round in a big circle. Everything looked the same.
And then The Rocket cut out.
The car rolled to a halt and sat silently in the dirt. I turned the engine over, but nothing happened. Then I tried again. Still nothing. Then I checked the gasoline gauge.
Empty.
Bummer. The gauge was so unreliable that I usually didn’t take much notice of it. But now I realized that I had driven for hours since I last filled the tank. For once, the reason the gauge read empty was because the tank was…empty.
What the hell was I going to do now? I tried to think calmly and rationally, but I could see that the situation was not good. I was out in the middle of the desert with no water, no gas and not so much as a clue as to where I could find help. What should I do? Pick a direction and start walking? No, I knew that if you are lost in the desert, the safest option is to stay with your vehicle so that rescue parties have the best chance of finding you. The trouble was, no-one knew where I was. As far as my friends and family were concerned, I should still be living it up in Las Vegas. No-one would miss me for several days, and by that time I would have died of dehydration and exposure.
Oh boy, I had gotten myself into a real fine mess.
I was already feeling dehydrated and hungry. I had heard stories of people who died after just hours stranded in the desert. And now it looked like I was going to be the next one. I could just imagine my parents waking up in the morning and seeing my dead face splashed across the daily newspaper, underneath the headline:
Irresponsible Las Vegas Whore Dies of Stupidity in Desert
…or something along those lines. It was too awful to think about. I sat in the driver’s seat, trying to figure out what I should do. But I was out of ideas. The sun was hot and I was already tired. I felt myself slowly drifting off to sleep, but I didn’t have the energy to do anything about it.
Soon I was fast asleep and dreaming, and my worries followed me into my dreams….
I was running hell for leather down the Las Vegas strip. A man in a suit was chasing me, shouting ‘stop that whore…she stole three thousand dollars from me! I ran and ran until I caught up with a convertible that was turning the corner. I jumped in the back. The two ladies in the front turned round, and I realized it was Thelma and Louise. Before I could get out, they had driven over the edge of the Grand Canyon. I was falling…falling. Thelma and Louise fell past me. They were still inside the car. Louise pressed the horn.
Beeeeeeep!!...beeeeeeep!....beeeeeeeep!..beeeeeeeeeeep!
I woke up and realized that something was pressing against my face. But the beeping horn hadn’t stopped. It wasn’t Louise, or Thelma. It was my head. I had slumped forward and ended up with my face pressing the horn. I sat up and the sound stopped. But I was still stuck in the middle of nowhere. Then I remembered my cellphone. Why hadn’t I thought of that before? I rummaged around in my purse and found my phone. There was plenty of battery life left, which was a good start. But when I tried to make a call, I got nothing. No reception. Not even one incy-wincy bar of it. I must have driven so far off the beaten track that there wasn’t even cellular coverage. I threw the phone back in my purse and dumped the whole lot on the floor. The car was getting hot, so I opened the door to let some fresh air in. All I could do then was sit there and wait to die.
This was hopeless.
Then there was another loud sound – this time right in my ear. Like a very loud farting noise. Well, that’s what it sounded like at first. I screeched and jumped in my seat, turning to face this new demon. It turned out to be a horse…you know, that snorting, breathing sound they make. As if to make the point, the horse gave another heavy breathing demonstration, then stuck his head in the car – presumably to see if I happened to have left any carrots lying around.
I hadn’t.
‘You in trouble, miss?’
No, it wasn’t the horse talking, silly. It was some guy riding the horse. I peered around the bulk of my new equestrian friend to see who was up top. The voice told me it was a man, but I couldn’t see much more as he was sitting high with the sun behind him. He climbed down off his mount and I got a better view.
A cowboy.
A sexy cowboy.
Six foot something of rough and ready manhood, with a ten-gallon hat on top. Any second now, I was expecting him to say ‘this town ain’t big enough for the both of us.’ But of course, he didn’t. He raised his hat to reveal a good-looking but weather-beaten face, and a shock of sandy hair.
‘Dirk Hanson at your service, ma’am. Pardon me if I sound a little rude, but what the hell is a pretty lady like you doing stuck out here in the desert?’
Pretty? Did he say ‘pretty?’ That cheered me up right away.
‘Well, I was just going for a drive, sir, but I kind of got lost. And then I ran out of fuel. But if you can just show me where the road is, I’ll go and get some gas, and I’ll be just fine.’
Dirk crouched down to my level and looked at me is if I was some kind of idiot.
‘Show you where the road is? Ma’am what did you say your name is?’
‘I didn’t actually. But it’s Angel. Angel deVries.’
‘Well, Angel…I don’t know how the hell you found your way out here, but you are a long, long way from the nearest road. There is no way that you are going to get gas on foot, and even if you did, I doubt if your car would make it to the highway, even if you could find it.’
‘Well, sir…Dirk. I really don’t know what else I can do…’
‘You can come with me. My place is just a short ride from here, and I have a four wheel drive. We can bring some gas out to your car and then get you fixed up and back to safety.’
I must admit, I was very relieved to find there was a way out of this mess. ‘Than
k you so much, I really appreciate it.’
‘No problem at all.’
***
A couple of hours later, we had filled The Rocket with gas and taken it back to Dirk’s place. To my amazement, The Rocket had started on the second attempt, and seemed to be unaffected by its desert adventure.
That wasn’t the case for me, however. I was absolutely exhausted, and arriving at Dirk’s home was like walking into an oasis. It wasn’t much of a place – an old ranch that was miles from anywhere. There was no road to it except for a double-rutted track worn by his Land Cruiser. But inside it was clean and tidy, and well looked after in a utilitarian kind of way. There were no female touches here. I guessed that no woman would be stupid enough to live so far from civilization. What the heck Dirk saw in such a life was something of a mystery to me. After the bright lights and razzmatazz of Las Vegas, coming here was a cultural shock.
Dirk showed me where the bathroom was, and I took the most enjoyable shower I have ever had (and I’ve enjoyed a few good ones with various assorted guys…). It was so refreshing to be able to wash away the dirt and the grime, and to soap away all the worries and cares of the day.
I found some clean clothes in my suitcase in the back of The Rocket, and dressed in suitably cowgirl-ish jeans and checked shirt. By the time I got back to the kitchen, I was feeling a whole lot better. Dirk had cooked up a meal of eggs, beans and bacon, and I was so hungry I scoffed the whole lot in a few minutes. I explained to Dirk how I had got myself in such a stupid mess (leaving out a few of the more lurid details), and then I got to ask him some questions.
‘So what made you decide to live out here? It’s a lovely spot…but it’s you know..’
Candid Confessions Bundle #2 Page 4