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From: hawkrds@aol.com (HawkRds)
Subject: {A.S.S.} Repost: The Stammering Waiter M/F by Hawk Richards
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Standard Disclaimer: Don't read if under 18 years of age. Don't read if
sexually explicit material is not your cup of tea. E-mail or Post your
reaction or critique. Flames will be ignored. Enjoy!

Note: I enjoy hearing what you think. Comments are very welcome! You may
not sell this story... 

Contact Info:

Hawk Richards
Hawkrds@aol.com
http://members.aol.com/hawkrds

*******************************************************

The Stammering Waiter

By Hawk Richards
hawkrds@aol.com


I guess you call it one of those days. I had my fuck you attitude and a
shit eating grin. My Hair looked liked a mop, my mouth tasted like the
bottom of an ashtray and I was broke. I started out with a semi-rational
mind filled with anger and malicious greed. I was an average, everyday,
angry young adult, until she came into my life.

Her hair flowed like a river in the wind and her smile could tame the
animal within. Her bite was cruel and unjust. The days became bright when
she winked her sparkling eyes at the sun. She was the one. Her name was
Samantha and out of my foggy self-denying world of anger sprung a well of
something I had not felt before. When I first saw her sitting at the cafe
reading a book, Samantha had made the cafe wake up and listen to her aura
of love, but I thought I saw a tear in her eye. I strode over to her table
like the gallant young knight wanting to take away her sadness with the
glint of a slightly rusted armor.

"Hello...may I get you anything?" I said. 

Yeah, that is right I was a waiter, a waiter at the Sidewalk Café. It paid
the bills, of which I had many. Like all waiters, I had aspirations of
something more. No, I didn't want to be an actor. I didn't want to speak
other people's words. That is right, a writer was my aspiration and I had
the right disposition for it. I was an angry voice screaming in the dark. I
wove tales of a disturbed world, a world where you could play God and get
away with it. It just so happened that she was reading a favorite book of
mine and I had a come on line ready. Little did I know, yes very little.

Her youthful gaze fell away from the book and smiled at me. She didn't
speak a word, while I stood there with a frown turned upside because it was
the only smile I had. She looked into my eyes for what seemed like
eternity. God knows what she saw there. Did she see my soul? I hope not for
my soul was dark and sour. Then she spoke in this soft, flowing voice of a
goddess. On the other hand, maybe it was just the earwax build up in my
ears that made her voice echo.

"I said coffee. Do you mind not staring? Are you just going to stand there
all day?" she said as I stood in silence. 

"HELLO?" she repeated. 

Her voice was like an angel. I didn't know how to talk to an angel. I just
slipped away like a dog with his tail between his legs just after he was
caught shitting on the Living Room carpet. Insecurity seethed into my soul.
I found myself insulting my stupidity under my breath as I brought out an
order of fries to a sickening sweet couple bearing smiles and sexual
innuendoes. It made me sick, perhaps even a little jealous. My angel had
left the premises and I needed a drink.

I decided to go straight to the local bar before returning home for the
evening. As I entered the shithole of a bar, where I had found many a catch
of imposter angels, I realized I fucked too much. I couldn't remember the
last time I had actually made love instead of just fucking. 

Drink after drink, shot after shot of fire, I sat there feeling despair. I
realized it was time to leave the bar when I started seeing double images.

Like all stories, even this one has an innocent coincidence, however this
one is true. I saw my angel again. This time she was a painted angel. Her
face was caked with make up and her smile bore a resemblance to a Miss
America contestant. Yes, my little angel was a prostitute. My heart was in
my throat as I stood in awe. Even through the cement like make up she wore,
she had the face of.... Yes, that is right, an angel. 

As I walked by she asked, "Are you looking for a date?" 

I knew the game, "Yes, how much?" 

"Are you a cop?" She asked starring me down.

"No." She knew I wasn't. She had to have remembered me from the café.
Perhaps, I wasn't that memorable. How often do you talk to a stammering
waiter?

"150 dollars for full service." She whispered.

"Ok." 

She led me to her hotel establishment; a seedy placed called The Main
Street Hotel. They rented rooms by the hour and even if the whore had a
room of her own, the john was supposed to pay for the hour plus the
services of his attendant. 
It had been years since I had last paid for sex. There must have been the
small hope that she would notice my charm, intelligence, and sincerity. Of
course, I knew better than to think I could win the love of a prostitute by
paying for sex, yet I was desperate to be close to this special woman.

We quickly paid for the space to fuck and went up stairs. The steps were
littered with debris and castaways of life. The room was unexpectedly
clean. The sheets looked as if they were just changed. The bathroom had
running water and a semi-clean toilet, yet I wasn't there for the
amenities. I was there to seduce my painted lady. 

After, placing my wallet in the drawer next to the bed, I started to
undress. I watched her staring at me. Her eyes glazed over with jaded
passion. It was her job to become the seductress. Her act was both
endearing and painful to watch. She started to strip. Her show kept my
attention. Slowly, she removed her top. Her breasts, which were
magnificent, seemed to be one size too large for her frame. Her lacy
lingerie seemed cheap and too showy, yet she could make a Band-Aid look sexy. 

She crawled up onto the bed like a cat. She licked her lips enticingly. It
wasn't hard for me to forget I was paying for this tryst. My body seemed to
become alive with sensations as her hand brushed my thigh. She climbed up
my torso as she licked my chest like a kitten. Her hand grasped my penis in
a solid grip. I knew she was checking me for any sexual transmitted
diseases like herpes, gonorrhea, etc. She studied my penis for a second,
then with the ease of a magician produced a condom. 

I started to reach for it, so I could put it on, except she pushed my hand
away with her face. She started licking my fingers as if they were five
cocks. She sucked on my thumb as if she were giving head to a miniature
penis. After opening the package to the condom, she leaned down as if to
perform fellatio upon me. In a surprise groan, I felt my penis engulfed by
her mouth. She had placed the condom on the tip of my engorged cock and
rolled it on with her mouth. The feeling was sensational. 

My hands wandered over her succulent flesh for the first time. Her body
was a masterpiece. I immediately ran my hands down her back to her firm
bottom. My hand traveled down her mossy crease between her buttocks. I
encountered her puckered anus with my forefinger, as she expertly slicked
up my condom-covered penis with her hot saliva. 

I was stunned at her reaction to my exploration. Instead of just allowing
me to grope and feel her body, she encouraged it with writhing, moaning,
and mumbles of pleasure. My hand traveled further into her depths. I traced
a path over her moist slit, over her clitoris, and into her soft forest of
pubic hair. 
Usually, a condom feels like a bathing suit, but tonight I couldn't tell
the difference. Her mouth was hot. She twirled her tongue around my cock
with enthusiasm. It was all an act, but I didn't think about it. She was a
good actress. 
Soon, I felt the familiar stirring of an orgasm. Molten hot semen started
forth. She must have had psychic abilities because she soon ceased her oral
torture and sat astride my bucking hips. With practiced ease, she descended
on my hardened shaft. 

In a surprising turn of events, she started slamming her cunt forcefully
up and down my shaft. She completely enveloped me with each bucking
gyration. I felt the sweat from her actions drip down my balls, tickling my
soft flesh. I kept my attention to the travel of one lone drop of her
moisture, as it dripped from hair to hair and finally down the crevice of
my own ass. I wanted this to last forever. 

Suddenly, she stopped all motion. I could feel her inner muscles milking
my shaft. My hands were groping her breasts in handfuls. I bit gently into
her soft flesh. Her eyes were wild, whether it was passion or disgust I was
not sure. Slowly she descended one last time and her I could feel her
orgasm vibrate through my soul. I came. I was sure the sheer force of my
orgasm had burst the condom. 

She collapsed next to me. I smiled, but when I started to talk, she put
her finger to my lips to silence me. Our hour was up. I collected my wallet
out of the drawer and paid her. She grabbed the money instantly and counted
it. The brief hour of passion in her eyes had turned to a cold glassy stare. 


The end 

--
Hawk Richards
hawkrds@aol.com

Hawk Richards' Storyboard
http://members.aol.com/hawkrds


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