Red Light

Last week I stopped for a red light when I heard the sound of the Rolling Stones blaring. I looked to my right and saw a sporty little convertible with the top down. Behind the wheel was a blonde, maybe 30, her long silky hair whipping in the wind as she bounced up and down in time to “Brown Sugar.” She looked over and smiled. When the light changed we both took off but kept abreast of each other. Our smiles turned into laughter as we played this cat-and-mouse game for ten miles. Suddenly she waved her hand, motioning me to follow her right turn as she pulled into the parking lot of a small bar.

The bar was dim and smoky. A loud rock ‘n’ roll band played onstage. Blondie stepped onto the dance floor and began shaking and shimmying. I got up and bumped and grinded my way through a coupla songs.

The band took a break. Sweating bullets, Blondie went up to the bar, ordered two beers and handed one to me. She whispered something to the bartender and he gave her a key. Then she signaled me to follow her into a back room. The room had a small cot in It and was lit with candles. Blondie sat down and proceeded to peel off her stockings!

“It’s hot,” she explained, the first words she’d said to me. She patted the bed and I sat down beside her. In a minute she had her arms around me and was sticking her tongue into my mouth. She wrapped her naked legs around my pelvis and grinded ferociously, the same way she’d danced out there. I could hardly believe this was happening; a lay had never come this easy in my whole life.

Well, as it turned out, sex didn’t come easy. Blondie amazed me by rubbing herself against me until she had a screaming orgasm, then stood up and put her stockings back on, and headed out to the dance floor as the band returned. I sat there, totally stunned. I guess I felt kind of used—the most I’d gotten was a feel of Blondie’s tits through her dress. First I was pissed. Then I remembered all the times I’d gotten my rocks off and dumped a woman, and I had to laugh. With my hard on bulging against my zipper, I stood and left the place. I went home, called my favorite phone sex lady, and jacked off.

—Billy B.