One of the best fuck’s I have ever had is alive and well in New Orleans. Let’s just call him Big Sexy for this story. I wouldn’t want to give too much away. It would ruin the mystique. Big Sexy and I met online several years ago. I was living in another state at the time and was starving for something from home. He was from New Orleans and this gave him a few more brownie points. Also, this was before I chose a life in “cough” entertainment. I was doing the mom thing and working many, many jobs. In my spare time I serial dated for sport. One day I’m typing away at job #1 and I receive a notice from my account at OkCupid. I found that this dating site had classier guys as opposed to Plenty of Fish which had only given me a bucket of chicken and an ass pic. You have to kiss a lot of frogs. Believe me. Now that I’m thinking about it the serial dating was training for my current job and I think I can say without hesitation that I’m skilled. Also, I’m proud of it. I’ve seen it all. However, until then I had not met one such as Big Sexy. I knew when I looked at his face and I read what he thought about food, his grandmother and how he preferred a woman with “abundant style and taste,” we had to meet. Within two weeks he was in my town. Upon encountering him for the first time I thought he seemed rather mild mannered, but as I took a deeper look into his eyes I could see there was a little bit of a twinkle. I felt a twitch in my skirt. Goody! That means bad boy, player, rebel and or a combination of all three. Confidence has always made me giggle. Seriously. I get lightheaded. What can I say? I’m addicted to virility. We gave each other a little hug and had coffee in the hotel that he was staying in. Glancing over the table I could tell that he was raring to go. I, being a lady, wanted to talk for a while and have something to eat before I just handed over my holes. Don’t laugh. I used to be a lady. However, I’m very weak. So, four hours later he had me slammed up against the wall of his room with his tongue so far down my throat I could barely breathe. Yes. I fucked him. I mean. He had driven all that way. I had to give him a little taste. The sex was beyond anything I had hoped for. For a woman that cares about sex this is what you’d call memorable sex. This is the kind of sex that you think upon and masturbate to on a lonely Sunday night. Chemistry is cruel. When you find it you’ll do anything to hold onto it. Why? Because it feels fucking fantastic!! But, I digress… I was glad that he had made the effort and I needed a good thrashing in the worst way. Women can get sex. That’s not the problem. What you want is quality sex with a man that pays attention to not just what you are saying, but also what you are not saying. He led by instinct. He just knew how to touch me. By paying close attention to every thrust and how I arched my back and what sound he could force out of my parched throat, he brought me to orgasm. Many. He consumed me with his mouth and his hands. At one point we were fucking up against the hotel window. He was behind me and I was plastered on to the glass so engrossed in what was coming next that I ignored the agony I was actually in. I knew if I held on a little longer there would be relief by way of him reaching orgasm or me collapsing. We both tapped out after a good six hours. I wanted to keep going, but I was having trouble staying awake. Dazed, but sated, we pondered what we could possibly find to eat at 12:00 a.m. Before too long he started eating my pussy. I wrapped my legs around his neck and asked him gently “you do know that you are an amazing lover?” As he grinned with sticky lips over my furry and battered mound he purred “I just gave you the executive fuck, baby.”