Helen of Toronto [mf] | 2016

I found her at the hotel bar late on a Tuesday night. She was sitting alone, chatting with the bartender. The place was dead quiet. A couple of flatscreens above the bar had the sports news on with the sound off. Michael Bublé or some other crooner type was hollering on the speakers all across the room. His voice a needle wrapped in velvet in my eardrums.

My girlfriend had just broken up with me. I was out on yet another two-week trip at a client's office and I had woken up to a new text on my phone. She had met somebody who didn't make her feel like a bunch of empty space. I figured that was probably code for a guy who has a really big dick.

I sit down on the stool next to hers and I tell the barkeep whatever the lady's having is on me. Low enough not to sound like a show-off, loud enough so she'll hear me. She's close to forty but pretty. I'm thinking ex-cheerleader. Probably pharma rep. Those guys hire a lot of cheerleaders. Short blonde hair. Tight body. A face that's starting to show its age but still easy to look at. Hi, I'm Marlowe.

We talk for a while. What are you doing in town? Do you like it here? Soon enough I'm comfortable enough to brush my hand against her thigh. She's wearing a grey business suit, knee-length pencil skirt, no pantyhose. My hand lingers on her skin. She tries to push it away but I won't budge. You're not fooling me, lady. There's only one reason a gal like you sits alone at a bar on a night like this. She knows I've got her figured out. She smiles. My hand stays. How about we sit in a booth?

We choose the one that's the most out of the way. Not that it matters. The place is empty. The bartender watches the TV screens and pretends not to see us. Good man. I reach in for a kiss. My hand goes all the way up between her legs. Her panties are wet. Told you. That girl ain't fooling nobody.

In the elevator up I press her against the back wall and we kiss again. I go up her shirt. My hand fondles her tits. She tilts her head back. I kiss her neck. All the while my thigh presses against hers to keep her legs open. A leg lifts and wraps around mine. I push her skirt up. Fingers inside her panties.

In the hotel room I give her the grand tour. There's the bathroom. There's the bed. There's the view from the twentieth floor and all the city lights underneath. Stars in the night. She walks over to the window: a floor-to-ceiling door of thick glass that won't open. She looks down and I press her against the pane. My lips on her neck and my hands her ass.

Her skirt comes off. Her panties come off. Her top and bra come off. I press her naked against the glass. The lights are on. I want the whole world to see. Can anyone spot us so high above ground? Is there some office drone in that high-rise over there, banging away in his cube late into the night? Look over here, dear friend. Can you see these tits flat against the glass? Can you make out the tidy bush between these legs? All of you tiny people scurrying down there in the streets, rushing to catch the last bus home. Heads up to that bright window above. It's a brave new world. And it has people fucking in it.

Her body clings to the cold glass and I feel the heat of her pussy under my hand. She's dripping wet. Fingers slide in. She moans. I want to spread her wetness all over. I want her juices to coat her pussy and smear the window. I want to leave a trace behind. I want to leave evidence of our fucking. Translucent smudges the height of a woman's crotch. Leave it for the cleaning lady to piece together what happened here tonight.

I drop my pants and I'm hard against her. I grab her wrists and push apart her ankles, and I've got her spread against the window like a starfish. My cock hard against her ass. She fidgets. She wriggles. She squirms. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. You're not fooling anyone, toots. Still, we have time. I kiss the back of her neck. I kiss the top of her back. My hand slides between her ass cheeks. She pushes back. I let her turn around.

She pushes me backward forcefully to the bed. Pants around my ankles I fall heavily on the mattress. She tugs at them. Pulls them off. I unbutton my shirt. She grabs my hard cock and shoves it in her mouth. Balls deep. My eyes roll back in my head.

Helen, Helen, whose fantastic cocksucking launched a thousand ships. You just know that story got edited at some point. Mustn't hurt modern sensibilities. Now they say it was her face that launched all those ships. Bullshit. Those ancient greeks knew what was what. A pretty face is a dime a dozen. You don't start a war over a pretty face. But a girl who really knows how to suck your cock? Now that's something special. That's something to fight for.

She lets go of my cock. She looks pleased. She's got it coated with saliva and spit. She gets up on top of me and slides it in her. It's like sticking my cock in warm butter. She fucks with earnest. As if she hasn't fucked in years. As if she expects her husband to walk through that door at any moment and catch her with someone else's cock inside her. Just a figure of speech. She's not wearing a ring.

She comes like she fucked. Wild. Passionate. Jerking all over. Head back. Back arched. My cock still hard between her legs. Throbbing. Yearning. Left unsatisfied, But don't fret, Romeo. It's hours before the sun rises and this Juliet is ready to go.

She lies prone on the bed, face on the pillow. The curve of her ass a hill, no, a mountain over the cityscape outside. Can that woman really be forty? Is that what forty is like? Fucking strange thirtysomethings on business trips to foreign towns? If so there may be hope for us yet.

I call room service. Hi, you on the phone, what's your name? Joe, is it? Yes, Joe, I'm hungry. I've got insatiable appetites, Joe. Tell me, Joe, where can I find a bottle of lube at this hour? Yes Joe, the night is deep and dark, I know. But young, Joe. So very young. And I've got miles to go before I come. And Joe, you should see this ass...