I’m so excited to have another new Fantasy Friday for you! The reason I have encouraged everyone to try writing at least one story for us is that I know writing is like eating chips, you can’t eat just one. An so it’s true for Windy – she has written another wonderful story for us. Loosen your collar as you read, you may get a little warm! Please enjoy…
Banana Man
On a cool October evening, a comfortable built-in push up bra nestles inside my long-sleeved black and cream colored knee length dress with quarter-sized gold buttons evenly spaced from the base of my neck all the way down to the 9 inch salient slit to the hem. The slight pressure of my sheer off black pantyhose gives my legs and tummy a better shape. When the man I meet at this bar tonight accompanies me to my hotel room after we just barely get to know one another, he might take off my clothes, and when he does, every body part of mine will fall just a little bit south. For a half-second, I think this may be disappointing to him. Recognizing that it is a common fear for women that our bodies are not good enough past a certain age or physical condition, but are truly not the concern of almost any living man at that same age, I give my head a little shake to disregard those negative thoughts and I decide that he won't even notice. He won't feel that I have falsely advertised..... and his cock certainly won't care either, so here I go.
I don't normally frequent bars and I never imbibe, but I do want to order a clear liquid drink that has a green olive in it just because I've always wondered what that would be like. I suspiciously peer down into the bottom of what I think I have ordered, and I am now positive that I am not going to drink it because it smells like an industrial solvent. However, I do want that olive, dang it, but not if it tastes like it has been soaking in formaldehyde. Now this has me unpleasantly reflecting back to the smell of the biology lab my sophomore year in high school. The advanced students' class immediately preceding mine was dissecting cats. Yes, you read that correctly. It was barbaric and I will never forget the smell or the look of the thick, but clear plastic bags they stored them in while preserving their work from day to day. I was more than relieved that my regularly paced biology class was only anatomizing frogs. I will now pass on the olive.
I am nervous about the kind of man that might approach me. I have particular tastes and I would rather go back up to my room by myself than with someone who doesn't look like he is going to be able to toot my horn let alone even know where my horn section is. Therefore, any guy that looks my direction that I am not interested in, I give a dirty look that says, "I will bite you like a black widow spider and that will be BEFORE we have sex and I eat your head." Well, aren't you a snob, Windy, are you waiting for some rich looking guy all suave and whatever to come in and pick you up? What makes you think he'd want you? My answers are no, blah, and he wouldn't. Let me tell you about my type.....
My hungry eyes scan the hotel restaurant like they're scouring for the best organic banana at a produce stand because my brain and my stomach skipped lunch. The one I am looking for is not too old and not too young and contains no brown spots, but is still at that age where he has a dapper and clean looking yellow color with just hint of green. He isn't the banana that is overeager, almost bursting at the seams that is yelling, "Pick me, I am ready! "No, he is the one whose skin won't be too tough to peel back nor will it just fall off too easily and run the risk of being made into banana bread. The one I want coaxes me softly saying, "Gently peel back my skin and take a dainty bite of this firm yet giving sweetness. Dip me in peanut butter if you want unless you're allergic." Okay!
Visually, I continue to observe the male species in the room. No.... nice, but, no.......no.....yes! Ah, there he is ! Okay, turn around, Banana man. This is the kind of guy that walks into a room with authority, but not superiority. There is a difference. He is self-assured with a straight posture, and a confident stride, but he doesn't walk all balls-out-front like his midsection is being pulled by an invisible leash and he is eager to dip his tea bag into all the ladies' after dinner coffee cups. He is just comfortable being himself. He has a nice ass and I know this because I've been watching him for several minutes. He looks about my age which means 2 things. The first is that he's carrying at least 1 condom because he isn't here at this bar for procreation -- he is here for recreation and while one might be able to guess if I am still ovulating or not given whatever age I look, one best not take any chances because I am on the fence and occasionally still on the rag, but not tonight.
The second thing is that he knows a mature woman such as myself requires a lot of foreplay -- like foreplay-before-the-foreplay, including verbal and physical that will get me up and over that great and sometimes very difficult to reach peak and send me crashing down the other side of that beautiful snowcapped mountain. He can tell just by looking at me that I have regular sex in my life -- there is a little glow on my face, some color in my cheeks, and self-confidence of my stride in medium heels that says that I know I am still a sexual being and I am desired by the right kind of man. He leaves the KY jelly and the vibrator to me because he assumes that I know what I like.... and he's right, I do. My name is not Stella and I am not trying to get my groove back. I am still very much in the groove of things. I am just looking for a unique evening that ends in mutual mind blowing sexual fulfillment.
While not a total deal breaker, it would be nice and it would make things hotter for me if spanking played a role tonight. And not just the love tap, flirty-flirty kind, no. But, not holy-cow-how-much-can-this-woman-take-kind, either. I'll save that for next time.
He approaches me and asks me like the gentlemen that he is if he can sit down in the tall chair next to mine. My head slightly tilted toward him, I simply nod in a leisurely, but very deep 'yes', and I blink once slowly, letting my eyelids just barely flutter as I open them wide again and boldly look into his very pretty blue eyes with his beautiful lashes. Wow! At first we don't say anything. I wait for that moment where I can see if I like the way he smells, but because he is not bathed in cologne, it takes a couple of minutes of him sitting in his chair, adjusting his collar a bit and my hands itch to help him loosen his tie -- oh, forget how he smells, I want to help peel this banana! I want to see that spot just below this man's neck where it meets his chest. His voice is strong and confident yet gentle when he orders a scotch on the rocks. Hmm, it looks like something Alan Quartermaine would have poured in his glass on General Hospital back in the 1980's.
I do not tell him my profession and he doesn't tell me his either. The only job I care about him performing tonight is the way he is going to work my body over. But, when we talk about interests or hobbies I do tell him that I write for fun, for close friends and family, and for my emotional well-being. He asks me what I write and I shrug and tell him that I write a blog. "What kind of blog?" he inquires. Ha! Now this is the tricky part. He senses my hesitation and rubs his thumb along the back of my hand that he is now somehow holding.
How did I miss that? His grasp is warm, his hands are not soft, but not construction type hard either. I feel a heat simmering in my chest, which is for me, a telltale sign of sexual arousal. It's not a blush or a symptom of menopause, it is an internal fire of the hot flow of blood in my heart and lungs and it often sends a jolt to that hidden place between my thighs. "A spanking one," my voice sounds huskier than it usually is. I see his pupils dilate! It does very tingly things to my body to think that this man might just know how to spank me.
The physical attraction is definitely here between us.... and some personality sparks, too, so I decide that now is the time to do that thing where I excuse myself to use the powder room, but I slip the key card to my hotel room into his hand, and whisper hotly into his ear the number to my room. I may have just barely licked his earlobe with my moist warm tongue. Whoops!
Twelve minutes later, I let myself in the room with my spare key card. The lights are dim, there is a beautiful fruit basket as a gift from the hotel sitting as a centerpiece on the small dining room table. I walk through the kitchenette into the suite and I see him sitting comfortably on the couch. His sports jacket has been removed and his tie is loosened with the top two buttons of his crisp black dress shirt undone. I find it a turn on to see a man do that and even sexier when I tug on his tie and bring his lips to mine and run my fingers through his hair which is exactly what I go over and do. "Take off your dress." With slightly shaky hands, I do as I am asked and the dress falls to the floor. Since the bra was part of my dress, I am now naked from the waist up and am left standing in my pantyhose and heels. "Off, all of it." Again, I do as I am asked, but I leave my pink satin panties on because it is my last layer of any kind of emotional protection in this situation and it makes me feel a little more confident in what I am doing.
The next thing I know he is up off the couch and pinning me to the wall behind me. My bare breasts are pressed up against his shirt, slightly abrasive to my now fully erect nipples. With one hand, he pins my wrists above my head against the wall and with his other, he dips his hand under my panties and finds the moist heat of me. I gasp at how fast he is moving but even more at how fast I am getting turned on. Now, for the first time, I fully inhale his scent. I know his soap is specifically for men because it doesn't smell anything like a woman's. He smells a little spicy, yet not in a hot food kind of way..... more sharp than soft, but more light than cloying. Yes, all of that and throw in a pinch of testosterone.
I notice the music is playing but it's not romantic. What is this? It's beat is kind of hard, but not bang-your-head-hard. Ah, Nickelback. I hear the words to the song with the rough voice of the lead singer, "I like your pants around your feet........ I like the dirt that's on your knees......" Oh, heck, yes, it's the song, Figured You Out. I suspect my open laptop was discovered shortly before my arrival in my room tonight and that my Spotify playlist is being utilized.
And then he turns me around so that I am actually up against the wall, elbows bent, hands out to the side, splayed flat. He pulls my hips back toward him and I know what is coming. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! I don't need him to tell me I am naughty for being here. He can see my wedding ring so I am not hiding that fact from him. No, he doesn't need to tell me I am a bad girl because I wouldn't be here otherwise. So is he going to say anything to me or is he just going to spank away? The answer is a little of both. Mostly, he tells me how much he likes the shape of my ass and the look of it as he reigns down more slaps. He takes one hand off of the hip that he has been holding in place and slips his hand into the front of my panties once again as he finds the right spot and begins his work there. But, then he does ask with a rough rumble, "Do you want to submit to me?"
My breathing is more shallow, my nipples are pert, and his hand stills, just barely palming me. I take a shaky breath and tell him, "I only submit to my husband."
He grunts in my ear. "Only him, huh?"
"Yes."
"How do you think he feels about you being here with me?" He begins circling one finger again and I almost lose my concentration. He stops, allowing me to recover.
"Oh, he knows I am here with you."
"Do you want me to be more dominant?" He flips me back around to face him and I grab onto to his shoulders for support.
Yes, please. "I would have to ask my husband if that is okay."
"Why don't you call him and ask him?" Apparently he is done messing around.
"You want me to call him right now and ask him if I can let," I rake my eyes over him and decide he needs to be wearing less clothes like me, and I finish saying, "you dominate me?"
"Yes, call the lucky son of a gun and let's see what he has to say." I actually grab his tie hanging loosely at the base of his neck and pull him that extra 6 inches closer to my face and I kiss him very lightly with both of my lips just on the upper one of his and then I do the same with just the bottom lip and draw it in to my mouth and back out, letting it slowly pop! What the heck........ I am going for it tonight! I reach over for my cell on the table, sit down in the chair with my legs spread so he can see right into the heart of me even though I still have on my skimpy panties as I hit the buttons for my husband's number and put the phone up to my ear. I am watching this man -- watching him look at me most intimately as he removes his tie and then his shirt and socks and shoes. I want him, but I have to make this call. Not only do I hear the phone ringing in my ear, I hear it ringing in this man's pant's pocket. He reaches his hand in and answers and I hear a double, "Hello?"
"Hi, Storm. I am here in a swanky hotel room with a sexy half-naked, very dominate man and he wanted me to call you and ask for permission to ---- " Storm interrupts and answers in the phone and bores his eyes into mine at the same time, "Do whatever the man says." I know to answer, "Yes, Sir." Who knows where the phones landed after that as I suddenly found myself brought up out of that chair and swiftly bent over that little kitchen table, being hand spanked by Storm once again. Now he lowers my panties to just beneath my knees but above my ankles. There is something about having them pulled down but still left there and not completely off that I find very ...... humbling...... and it turns me on whenever he uses this technique while continuing to spank me.
I soon hear the clink of his belt and it whooshing through his loops and then whipping through the air as he swings it down upon my now fully naked bottom over and over. And then he is done with that and he is behind me, down on his knees, looking, feeling, and making sure my body is ready for him. This man does indeed know where my horn section, but he decides to play me like a fiddle instead. He can orchestrate any instrument on my body all he wants and he knows it. What I know next is one of two things. He will either move me over to the couch, bend me over and take me from behind or we'll move to the bed and he'll want to be on top as he drives his body into mine and makes sure we both finish hard.
This night was my fantasy and now I am perfectly fine with him bringing us both to completion in whatever way he desires. I have been seduced, bared, teased, spanked, and now ....... "I want you over the couch." I do as he says, quickly stepping completely out of my panties, and then I get into position with my knees on the ground and my chest flat against the sofa. Just like I would if he were going to spank me again, I completely submit, although now I can’t help but move on him, join him in his rhythmic frenzy as he expertly reaches one hand around my hip and slides his hand downwards to find my slick, hot center, swiftly circling it with two fingers, and not much later, he takes us both over the precipice.
Later, I lie in bed where we moved to get more comfortable when Storm decides he's a little hungry, gets up, and heads over to the fruit basket. I watch him pick up a piece of fruit. Not too ripe and not too green....dapper .... just the way I like him..... my sweet, dominant Banana Man.
~o~
I told you it was hot! Thanks Windy, that was great. I hope you've begun on your third! Don't let Windy have all the fun. Try writing your own story, we all want to read it. Send your Fantasy Friday stories to elisspeaks@yahoo.com
