The very next week, I was to meet the legendary Mr. Bunnah, who is a very famous rock star whose real name, I dasn't divulge. Suffice it to say, he has enough female fans to pull a Wilt Chamberlain, but, being selective, HE does not.
We met at a sandwich shop: Which Which. Which is, simply delish. He had ham with bits of bacon slipping out. He had to get a spoon. I got the meatball, which was simply divine by virtue of the veggies and condiments. The meatballs, I took pains to taste solo, and they were, sadly mediocre. So my friend Thor is right. There are no good meatballs in San Diego, save his house, or mine. (He has challenged me to a "ball off"-but has not yet had the motivation to set a date. Hmm. Perhaps he thinks I'll WIN. But I digress.)
After we ate, we went to Balboa Park. He wore jeans and one of his band t-shirts. I was afraid he'd be recognized, but fortunately, he was not. Inspired by the nubian princess, I wore a long skirt, form fitting at the hips, but then freely flowing around my legs. No panties. The jersey top I wore matched the skirt and perfectly off-set my boobs, which peeked out over the top of my bra.
"These," he said, touching them, "are MMM," he bent to kiss the tops of my breasts and ran his mouth up my neck. "You smell so good," he said. "Do you want to make out in the car?"
"Sure, if you do," I said.
So we did.
And then he decided to take things a bit further.
He put his hand under my skirt and smiled the smile of heaven. "No panties?"
I shook my head.
"Mmm." He pushed the skirt up and, while fingering me, licked me and licked me, until I came. And then he licked me some more. "You taste so good," he said.
"And you," I said, reaching over and unzipping his fly, "are ROCK hard. And perhaps might like me to taste you!" I took his cock in my mouth. It was my very favorite kind: hard and thick; I ran my tongue over the tip and his frenulum. Then, enjoying the broadness of his shaft, I brought my hands and mouth up and down on it. Again and again. I could feel his cock stiffening, getting longer and harder, getting ready for the ultimate release. At which point he said:
"Stop, I want to fuck you. I NEED to fuck you," he amended. "But not here. Inside the museum."
"What? Are you crazy?"
"Of course I am. That's why you like me so much," he kissed me and I could taste myself on his lips.
"Come on, let's go on in," I said.
We walked to the Tonken art museum and into the Virgin Mary room. The walls were green, alternating different shades and textures and the art was painted on wood. Gold was the predominant color that I saw when he took me over to the Northwest corner.
"I'm going to fuck you," he said, backing himself into the corner, putting me in front of him, my back to him. He pushed me up against his hard cock and rubbed until he was ready. He unzipped, lifted my skirt, bent me over and I felt his thick cock enter me. "OH," he moaned. "You're so tight," he whispered in my ear.
Quickly, he pumped a few times and then, before anyone could see us, he came inside me, pushed down my skirt, grabbed my hand and we ran out of there, laughing.
It was the perfect afternoon.
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
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