| Straight: Strangers: Atlanta (1/4) |
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My dick gets hard almost as soon as the plane's wheels touch down at Hartsfield International. Atlanta might be better known to most as the home of CNN, and too many streets named Peachtree, but for me, it will always be the place where, one night, a fine young, corn-fed southern gal changed the life of one pale, balding middle-aged New Yorker for good. About ten miles West of the city is the town of Buckhead, where you can get first class diner food and then blow your rent money gaping at young bare-naked ladies at one of the district's many nudie clubs. I was on a business trip with my boss who hadn't seen so much fresh pussy in one place in years. There were dozens of tables with totally bare girls dancing on each one. The scene was like something out of Dante's Inferno! When I saw him squinting at the array of genuflecting babes before us and I asked him what was up. He told me that his wife used to look like that a long time before they were married. With all this wild nudity around us it was nice that he was thinking about his wife. Table dances were ten dollars and between my own indulgence, and springing for the boss's pleasure, I dropped about three hundred bucks. He left at around midnight. I told him he could take the car and I would follow in a cab later. This was too good to leave. While he was there, we patronized a good sampling of the available talent. If a girl asked us nicely if we wanted a dance, we would always accept. But afterwards, I zoned in on a particularly fetching beauty. I would say about 22 years old, dark, 5 feet two, brown eyes and shoulder length auburn hair that had a luster you usually see only in commercials for shampoo or conditioner. And a smile so captivating that you couldn't help but stare longingly at her beautiful face. She knew I was smitten, too, and was more than happy to take all the cash I was willing to give her, which was basically every penny I had, if she would just stay a little longer. The more money I gave her, the closer she would dance to me. So close that I could feel the heat radiating from her perfect body as she brought her breasts just millimeters from my lips. I was so turned on I thought I was going to explode! Two AM was last call. I gathered my stuff and was about to leave when I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was my private dancer. She told me her name was Caroline and that her ride home had a flat tire and couldn't make it. She wanted to know if I could give her a lift. At that moment I thought there must be a God and he was a cold, cruel prankster. Here was the hottest female I had ever seen whose naked pulchritude I had been lusting after for hours - asking me to take her home and I didn't have a ride! My mind raced. A taxi! But I had almost no cash left having given it all to the pretty object of my desire. But then I spotted an ATM, blinking seductively near the bar. Two minutes later -flush with cash- I was ready to go. Caroline told me to wait for her outside so nobody would see us leave together. We got into the |
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