Celia followed Dean to the motel down the road. His room sat toward the back of a poorly lit parking lot. A Motel 6 would have been an upgrade. Unease crept over her, and doubt shrouded her every thought. The little angel on her shoulder said, "He could be a serial killer who wants to wear your tits as earmuffs."
The little devil popped up and responded, "Oh, come on. It'll be fine. And he's kinda cute. Take a chance."
Her head and her gut, once again, at odds.
Leaving her purse and wallet in the truck, she locked it and crossed with trepidation toward Dean. He drove an old-model Cadillac with significant body damage.
That's weird. Aren't these guys all concerned about appearance when they
make these sales calls?
She thought of Carter's BMW and how clean and pristine he kept it. But then again, she could already tell Dean wasn't Carter.
In a matter of minutes, she found herself in Dean's room and, with no preamble, he unbuttoned her blouse. His belt had already been unbuckled, and his fly was down, letting his pants wave freely around his waist.
Jesus, did he undress walking from the car?
Dean's mannerisms were clumsy and forced as he grabbed at her without an ounce of consideration.
His approach seemed horribly familiar. It reminded her of Rod; too bad for him.
Pushing him to arm's length, she said, "I think I made a mistake. I gotta go."
Celia stepped away from Dean and pulled her blouse tight over her chest.
Dean held her arm and looked at her with a confused expression. "What do ya mean? I'm just anxious to taste this incredible bod." He exuded a forced charm that presented sleazy and fake.
Celia pulled her arm away and backed up. "You're reminding me of my ex right now, and if that continues, I'll be out that door in half a second," she bargained. Then, Dean planted himself between her and the door.
"We're already here, aren't we?" He slid his hands under her bra. "No sense in wasting this wonderful opportunity."
Having no idea how to deal with this situation, she did the only thing she could think of: she attempted to take control while managing the rising panic in her chest.
"Okay, come here. Sit down."
She pushed him onto the bed and sat next to him.
I'll give this one more shot.
Placing her hand gently on his cheek, she kissed him. He tasted like he had a cigarette on the drive over. That didn't bode well for the rest of this experience.
He kissed back for a moment or two; then his tongue gouged the inside of her cheek. His hands began to scrape over her body. She could taste the bitter cigarette smoke and had an involuntary revulsion. As she started to pull away, he dragged her closer. Breaking from the kiss, he tugged at her waistband to undo her skirt.
Dean wasn't listening to her. He wasn't into the sensuality of sex, just fucking.
This guy is pissing me off!
She pushed him back and straddled him, pinning him to the bed. "You aren't listening," she was nearly yelling. "Slow down. We'll get there in time."
Sitting on his chest, she undid the buttons on his shirt and opened it up.
Using her fingernails, she ran them down his chest and over his stomach. He shivered and knocked her hands away.
"That tickles. Stop it," Dean said in a harsh tone. "Okay. Sorry." She put her hands on his chest again and let them rest there.
He reached up and knocked her open blouse off her shoulders. The shirt fell, and he tossed it onto the floor at the end of the bed. The bra she wore snapped in the front, and after fumbling with the back, he figured it out.
He undid the clasp between her breasts, popping the bra open. Dean's eyes widened as a smile crossed his face.
"Now that's what I'm talking about. These are some great tits. Wow!" His hands cupped both breasts. He began to squeeze them as though they were day-old fruit at a roadside stand. "Yeah, these are some beauties. They feel fake, though."
Celia took his hands off her breasts and held them. "You really gonna complain about that?"
"Hell no. I'm loving these. I was just wondering." He shook his hands away from hers and grabbed her boobs again.
"Get out of those clothes. I gotta fuck you right now." He rolled her off of him and kicked his boots to the floor, one after the other.
He pulled off his pants and underwear in one move. His hand went immediately to his penis, and he started to stroke it hard.
Celia took a deep breath and muddled with her skirt. At this point, only one inevitable conclusion seemed obvious.
Fuck! May as well get this over with.
She raised her hips and slid off her skirt, along with her underwear, and threw them on the stuffed chair next to the bed. Rolling over, she saw Dean stroking himself with vigor.
"Come on, baby. It's not going to suck itself." He pushed her head down toward his dick.
God, you are such an idiot.
If she had a do-over, she'd have just gone home. But she didn't have that choice now, and she had no one to blame but herself. Climbing between his legs, she took over stroking his cock as he lay back on the bed, ready to be pleasured.
This whole scene repulsed her. Celia threw a cursory glance at the door. If she grabbed her clothes, she could get out in a few seconds. The image of her clutching her clothing as she ran naked to her truck almost made her laugh. Not an option. She'd tried to leave once, and he stopped her.
He could get violent if I try again. Especially now. Shit!
Feeling she had no real viable choice, she lowered her head and began to suck his dick. Her thoughts went to where they had always gone when Rod had forced her to blow him.
I really need to get that dining room table. They're so damn expensive,
though. And should I get four chairs or six?
He moved his hips up and down as she sucked, out of sync with her. Several times he jammed his erection into the back of her throat. That brought her out of her dining room fantasy and back to the reality of sucking his dick. Her hand stroked the shaft, yet she ignored his balls. He didn't seem to notice.
Pulling her head back, she continued stroking.
If I get him to come, I can go.
But then, a vengeful thought flashed through her brain. Why should he be the one to come? Fuck that. If I'm stuck here, I'm going to
get something out of it. It's my birthday, damn it.
She stopped stroking and ran her hands up his body, dragging her breasts over his stomach as she did.
"Don't stop. I'm almost there," Dean whined.
"Oh no. I know how this works. When you come, you're done. Not tonight.
You want me to finish; it's my turn. You do me for a bit."
Not having to hear that twice, he rolled on top of her. He grabbed her hips and pulled them off the bed. Without warning, he jammed his penis into her.
"Ow!" she groaned.
He had surprised her. Dean's lack of foreplay hadn't aroused her enough to accommodate him. He wiggled a bit, stirring the juices around until he slid fully inside of her. He began thrusting in a disturbing and odd motion. He hadn't asked about protection of any kind, but then again, it would have been a surprise if he had. After a few strokes, she pushed him away.
"That's not what I was thinking. You do me," Celia said. She grabbed his head. Pushing it down between her legs, she wrapped her thighs around his neck and challenged him, "It's not going to lick itself."
"Okay, okay, I can do this. You want some tongue, you got it," Dean said, taking on the challenge.
Celia pushed his face into her coochie and held it there. Dean began with his tongue. It wasn't long before she realized that he might be good at this. His technique was very different from Carter's, but being only the second guy to go down on her, she thought that maybe it just wasn't that tough to do.
A tongue on a clit, what's so complicated?
As repulsive as he had become over the past five minutes, this surprisingly worked for her. He had two fingers inserted, crossed, as if he wished her good luck. Nice. He had a good rhythm going as well, a lick and then a stick.
Wow, this is working!
Just as that thought crossed her mind, Dean stopped. He sat up and said, "Okay. Doesn't look like you're going to come, so it's my turn again. Now, back to it." He waved his erection at her and lay on his back, ready to finish.
Jesus, he's exactly like Rod.
"Come on bitch. A deal's a deal." He slapped his erection against his stomach, producing a loud thwack.
Celia struggled to a sitting position as she moved toward his erection. She placed her head on his stomach and began to suck his cock. She cheated by using her hand for the majority of the action. At least this way, she didn't need to concern herself with a condom. As his stomach began to convulse, she pointed the weapon away from her face, and he splurged all over his thighs.
It wasn't three minutes later that she slammed her truck door, bra and panties in her hand, and screeched out of the parking lot.
Some birthday present. You're such an idiot!
Once back home, she showered immediately, then curled up in bed, shivering. She vowed never to let it happen again. Tears of shame formed as the realization of her monumental mistake overcame her. With small sobs, she cried herself to sleep.