Jen: Route 66 Kicks-St. Louis

Out sprang a fairly short cock at full stand up attention. Short, but packed in a startling girth. That fuck stick was already drooling cock cream, the precum long gone. Justin had my dress off in a whisk and we stood there, face to face, naked and panting in heat. He could see my pussy was sopping wet, so he just walked into me and kept walking until he had my back up against a wall.

It happened to be the curved glass block window part of the wall. With the room lights full on as they were, I'm sure we were perfectly silhouetted, however opaquely blurred, in full view of anyone who happened to look. No matter, up against the glass bricks I went and then, as I jumped my legs around his waist, I was quickly and expertly impaled by his fleshy lance.

Well, not quite. His pecker was so fat, it took a bit of effort before he got all the way in to his balls. But then, like a raging bull, Justin slammed into me so hard and fast against that glass brick wall that I wore the imprint of the glass design for the next twenty-four hours.

After no more than six of these power strokes, we both shot off like Fourth of July Roman candles. In my case, I screamed like a banshee, high and shrill. In justin's case, he just kept moaning. I was squeezed against that glass wall with so much force, I couldn't get my breath back fast enough.

Justin finally dropped my legs to the floor and eased the pressure enough that I could at last gasp in some breaths, or I would have collapsed limp and blue to the floor. He ended up, as I planned, staying for the whole night. We fucked and sucked away most of it, finally collapsing in a naked spoon and got a few hours sleep before dawn.

We got up just after full light and had a nice fuck and suck in the shower before Justin picked up his tattered clothing and kissed me goodbye. He had to head out for Chi town and a meeting while I was headed west across all three-hundred-seventeen miles of Missouri to the Kansas/Oklahoma border corner where 66 dives into Oklahoma, but not before I got to see a bit more of St. Louis.

After Justin left, I scanned the phone book for an appropriate shop to purchase a cocktail dress. I wanted to go pub-crawling and dancing in the evening. Meanwhile, I would make the necessary clothing purchases and do some sight-seeing.

I ended up with a black velvet cocktail dress of the strapless and sleeveless variety. The black, plastic purse and black patent leather heels looked very nice with the dress. I already had the single strand, neck choker of pearls. My jewelry stash also contained a single strand pearl bracelet.

Miss Swifty then took me into the center of St. Louis to the site of Forest Park that was home to the 1904 World's Fair. Not much was left of the buildings from that time except for a large pavilion and remnants of the landscaping.

But the park does contain venues for golf and museum browsing. I spent a lot of time hitting the highlights of the Art Museum and the History Museum. I also cruised along the western edge of the park around Washington University and a ways east of the park around St. Louis University just so I could say I'd been there.

I found my way back to the downtown area to the Old Courthouse. That, I did want to see. It was the courthouse in which the 1856 Dredd Scott law suit began. Losing, the case was taken to the U.S. Supreme Court in 1857 where the decision rendered said, in effect, that slaves taken into free states by their master, or otherwise, remained slaves. It was one of the many sparks that burst into the conflagration four years later known as the American Civil War.

During my ramblings around in the court house, I noticed an Air Force Second Lieutenant, in uniform, following me around but trying very hard to look like he was not doing so. I was in my usual summer attire, so I exposed a lot of cleavage and ass cheek from time to time. His tongue was near wagging.

After I'd seen about all the courthouse I was interested in, I finally turned to the officer and asked, "Is there something you're interested in, Lieutenant?"

He stuttered around a bit in shocked surprise. Visibly pausing for a moment of thought, he firmly just let it all hang out when he answered with, "Yeah, I think you might say that."

"Well, Lieutenant, guessing your interest and hoped for intentions, I've led us back to an apparently little used hall and a room that might suit our purposes. A quickie might be in order, if you're so inclined."

The look on his face was priceless. A look that said he couldn't believe his luck. He truly did look to be in shock, if only for a couple of seconds. I read his I.D. tag.

"Well, Lieutenant Wheeler, shall we repair to the room?"

"the name's James. Do lead on, uh, ah...'

"Sorry, my name is Jen."

"Pleased to meet cha, Jen."

"We'll see about that in a minute, Lieutenant, er, James."

The bulge in his uniform pants was quite visible.

Once in the room, James pulled me into a tight clinch, his hands on my ass, pulling my pussy into his hard boner. I wiggled down to his belt, opened it and the fly, and dropped his pants and skivvies to the floor. His cock was neither large nor small, but something in-between. But it was definitely standing hard and tall.

My hands and mouth soon had some real moans issuing from his mouth. He was really horny and came close to climax in very short order. I didn't want that. I wanted a quick fuck, so I stopped my attention to his cock and stood up.

I walked backward to the dusty table in the corner, dropping my shorts to the floor and stepping out of them as I backed up. My naked pussy was glistening west from my pussy juices, drawing his attentive stare quite easily.

James' attention was so fixated on my pussy that I don't think he even noticed my crooked finger calling for him to follow me. He was following my pussy like a stallion following a mare in heat. Maybe that really wasn't that far from the truth.

When my bare ass bumped the end of the table, I sat. I spread my legs wide and leaned back on my elbows. James needed no further invitation. He dived head first into my blatantly exposed pussy with his mouth and tongue. I didn't need very much of that. I was wet enough before I ever hit the table.

"Enough, James. Fuck me. Fuck me now."

So he did. Neither of us lasted very long. He shot his wad first which pushed me over the edge to my climax. Mine was good, but I've had better. This was just too rushed.

"I hope you're satisfied, because that's all I've got time for now. I'm sorry if that seems like a female version of 'Wham bam, thank you Ma'am,' but that's just the way it is this time. I told you it was going to be just a quickie. As soon as I catch my breath, I've got to get going."

As I dressed and cooled off, I asked James a question or two.

"Why do I see so many Air Force people around.

"Because Scott Air Force Base is just over twenty miles from here and as long as we show up for duty on time, our off duty time is our own--within reason." For the Air Force, it's much like any civilian workday, at least stateside and in peacetime.

"What goes on out there at the base?"

"It's the Headquarters home of MATS. That's the Military Air Transportation System to you civilians."

"What do you do there?"

"Not much. As an Air Force Academy graduate of one year and in my first posting, I'm little more than a paper pushing/carrying gofer for the time being."

We parted shortly thereafter with James leaving about five minutes or so ahead of me. I walked out into the very late afternoon sunshine. Miss Swifty got me back to the Coral Court in time for a beer and a sandwich. I had time to get ready for my pub crawling night.

My target for the evening was the fabled entertainment area known as Gaslight Square, a compact thriving entertainment district that was far more notorious than New Orleans Bourbon Street at the time. It occupied an area surrounding Olive and Boyle Streets In the Central West End. I left Swifty in the garage and called a cab. I wasn't at all sure I'd be able to drive home.

The cabbie seemed to look back at me in the rearview mirror more than at the road ahead. 'Course, my short skirt and spread legs might have been the cause. This time, I had donned a miniscule strapless bra and tiny bikini panties, so the cabbie only got a partial view. My attire still had him nearly drooling.

"Eyes front, cabbie, before you rear-end someone."

He reluctantly returned his eyes to the street ahead. But I still caught him looking several times and hoping to see more. He got lucky when he stopped to let me out at the square. My thin strip of panty had pulled up into my crotch so far and tight, it was if I had worn none. The entire outer lips of my pussy were exposed.

The fare turned out an unlikely even amount. I paid through the passenger side front window and said, "You already got your tip--the eye candy you so enjoyed. See ya."

As I walked further into Gaslight Square, the original music was everywhere and nearly overwhelmed me. The streets were lined with packed clubs and restaurants, and after hours coffeehouse discussions still fondly remembered by many.

The area was founded by the "beatniks" of the early 1950's. It was a time before orbiting satellites, the internet, cell phones, and mass electronic media. The founders were of the generation that began questioning traditional majority values in art, literature, and political self-expression.

Like New York's Greenwich Village, the central hub of The Beat Generation, Gaslight Square helped construct this important alternative American scene. Writers Jack Kerouac and Alan Ginsberg and others traveling coast to coast would make that deliberate stop in St. Louis to witness Gaslight Square.

I wanted to experience it too.

Many top entertainers such as The Smothers Brothers, Lenny Bruce, Miles Davis, Barbara Streisand, Jackie Gregory, Jack E Leonard, and Phyllis Diller, graced the stages of Gaslight Square early in their careers.

The area boasted of live jazz, poetry, great food, Irish dancing, and street cars. It would take a half hour to go two blocks by auto. Gaslight Square was truly a unique hot area of sophisticated entertainment. And I sure intended to enjoy as much of it as I could.

Little did I know that night that Gaslight Square was soon to fall victim to suburban flight and urban decay in the surrounding areas and would be dead by 1975. Oh, the area would drag on and spend many years as a home to sleazy bars, the last of which would close in 1990.

By the late 1990's, even most of the buildings were long gone. Those that remained stood open and rapidly deteriorating. Not a trace of Gas Light Square remains today. The revival would wait for a later revitalization in the form of Laclede's Landing.

The area formerly known as Gaslight Square is slated to become a complex of 150 or more condominiums.

I don't know if I toured the whole lot or not. I just walked block after block, eating, drinking, listening, and dancing some 'til nearly cockcrow. The area really lived up to its reputation. I even got a peek at a Lenny Bruce performance. Too damned foul mouthed and lewd for me. Not my idea of comedy.

A number of good looking studs made passes at me, but I brushed them off until just before I was ready to return to the motel. I suddenly spotted a familiar face. Damned if it wasn't Illinois State Trooper Ben what's his name. One and the same who'd pulled me over back the other side of East St. Louis. He hadn't seen me yet.

"Whoo boy," I thought," here's my chance to have a little fun and maybe more."

He was standing with a group of four other studs. I circled wide around where he was standing and tried to stay hidden by people as I did so. I managed to come up behind him without being seen.

"Pull it over, buddy, you're busted"

He was obviously startled, but as he turned around to face me, his jaw dropped in instantaneous recognition. His face changed from a frown to an ear-to-ear smile.

"Well, my young lady Godiva, what brings you to these questionable environs in the wee, wee hours of the night?"

"Probably the same thing that brought you, getting drunk enough to get laid, maybe?"

"Whooee! Listen to this skirt!" Chimed one of Ben's buddies. "You'd better grab her before one of us does, Ben."

"Are you with anyone, Jen?"

"Oh, how sweet. He even remembered my name."

"Hard to forget it under the circumstances that we met, Jen."

"No, in answer to you question about a companion. Are you?"

"Yes, but it's just these four guys and they can look out for themselves if need be. But I rode instead of drove. I don't suppose you have any old rattle trap handy, do you?"

The four studs with Ben had not taken their eyes off me from the moment I joined their little group. Their tongues were practically hanging out as they hung on every word between Ben and I.

"Oh, I think some sort of transportation might be arranged," I flipped, "If you can condescend to such levels as a taxi. You see, I didn't drive either. I rode."

"Well then, allow me." Ben said as he offered me his arm, "and lead on to the nearest taxi stand for our conveyance out of here and the presence of these four idiots."

The four stud "idiots" just stared some more as Ben and I walked off, arm in arm and giggling. We walked some distance before we managed to snag a cab for the rather long ride to the Coral Court and my room.

As we snuggled close on that ride, I asked, "Is there a Mrs. Ben who will miss you if you don't come home tonight?"

Ben's deep laugh rumbled before he answered with, "No, Jen, I'm single, twenty-seven, in my first month on the State Police force, and just out for a night of fun and womanizing with some pals from the post. None of us had got lucky yet. Then you showed up. What about you?"

"I'm twenty-three, single, and right now, horny as hell!"

"My, you certainly tell it like it is, don't you. I should've figured that from the way I found you at that traffic stop."

"Don't judge a book by its cover, or lack of one, but yeah, I let it all hang out, pun intended, and tell it like it is."

"To tell you the truth, Jen, I've been lusting after you ever since I pulled you over and you bared your boobs at me with your little tease. God, they're sure beautiful. You're beautiful, incredibly beautiful, sexy, and just God damned all woman."

"Ooh, flattery will get you everywhere!" I chuckled. "Where do you live and how will you get back there--later?"

"I live in Mascoutah, a little more than half an hour from St. Louis on the Illinois side of the river. I can get either a limo, a bus, or a cab back home--no problem. I have an efficiency apartment there. What brings you to this part of the country?"

"I'm on a cross country trip to travel the length of the Mainstreet of America from Chicago to Santa Monica. Lake Michigan to the Pacific. So, for the present, I'm footloose and fancy free."

"I guess you mean Route 66. Must be nice to be that free and independent. By the way, I didn't catch what you told the driver. Where are we headed?"

"Yes, it is nice. And we're headed for the Coral Court Motel. I've a room there for tonight and tomorrow night. I knew I'd need a place to headquarters for sight seeing and to recover from pub crawling. And that's not to mention for illicit activities that I might find interesting."

"Well, you certainly picked the right place for the latter. Smart thinking."

"You know, Ben, I think that I've lusted after you as well since our first meeting. I just never thought it would come to be. You aren't half bad to feast the eyes on yourself.

By now, dear readers, you're probably thinking, no scratch that. You are utterly convinced by now, what a sleazy little slut she, meaning me, is. Well, maybe I am, but I told you back at the start in Chicago that I fully embraced the tenants of the 1960's Women's Liberation Movement and the so-called sexual revolution, full tilt, even before those terms became official.

And what would you call a male who roamed around from conquest to conquest? It's OK for the gander, but not for the goose? A male gets another notch in his pecker and his buddies lift a few in honor of the newest conquest. The lady is a tramp. Damn the double standard.

And that lifestyle is very different from that of my parents' generation. But it's not so very different from the twenty-first century except that there, the lifestyle is not so earth-shatteringly new and is out in the open without apology, for better or worse.

It would likely take a shrink, nay, a bevy of shrinks to even begin to explain why we women in general, and I in particular, embraced those times like we did in the 1960's.

Well, be that as it may, the cabbie took us inside the court to my unit. He'd certainly been all ears on our trip. Ben paid the fare plus tip. It was much to dark for the cabbie to grab more than his earsful, no eye candy for this one.

We got inside and the let down from the long night set in. we got each other out of our clothes, I got as far as my back on the bed, and Ben got his face between my legs. He promptly fell asleep Out cold. I giggled and also went dead out asleep. Jeeze.

I eased blearily into consciousness around noon. My movement jarred Ben, still with his face between my legs, awake. we slowly came to the realization that the foul smell was emanating from the two of us. We just plain stunk to high heaven.

"Ben, I do believe a good, soapy shower is our first priority of the day."

"Truer words were never before spoken, I do believe. Come on, let's do it together."

Ben slid off the end of the bed on his stomach, feet first, as if he were water slipping over a dam. I sat up, slid my legs to the side of the bed, and promptly fell on my ass on floor as I tried to stand. Ben helped me up and, together, we stumbled into the shower.

The hot water was a relaxing tonic. So was what followed. Ben got a stiff boner following me from the bed to the bath/shower. We got warm water and stepped in to let the warm liquid wash over us. After a long soak, Ben picked up the soap and went to work on my body.

That's where the fun started. He turned me into the wall and started on my neck, soaping down my shoulders, back, and onto my ass cheeks. He had me all tingly with that action. The tingling only increased as he soaped down each thigh and calf down to my feet.

When he came back up to my ass crack, I almost lost it. Ben turned me around before I could climax and again started a my neck and soaped his way down. He spent a long time on my boobs and nipples. The tingling came back with a vengeance.

Ben worked on down to my pubis but then by-passed my pussy to go down each leg to my feet once more with the soap. Then he worked back up to my pussy. I spread my legs to give him access. In my hyper-horny condition, it only took him ten seconds of finger work in my pussy crevice and on my clit to bring me to a blasting climax.

Then with a big grin, he handed me the soap. I did his back first just as he did mine first. As I worked his ass and the crack between his cheeks, I could see his cock really twitch and pulse in anticipation when I peeked around his side.

Finishing his back, I turned Ben around to do the front side. His big hardon speared me in my belly as I reached up to begin at his neck and work my way down. His nipples were as sensitive as mine and my work on them brought precum bubbling from his pecker.

I also skipped his genital area on my way to his feet. Well, I did give him a quick mouth clamp over his pecker head as I passed by. I though he'd come when I did that, but he managed to hold himself in check.

When I did get to his cock and balls, I stroked him slowly up and down with one of my soapy hands. The other soapy hand played with his balls. I switched hands a couple of times before I put both hands to work on his cock. One hand stroked and the other gave his glans a palm rub when it popped out of his foreskin on my down stroke.