This week, _The Fellatist _ recounts his adventure in Gresham, Oregon over Thanksgiving weekend.
November 20, 2012
**Gresham, Oregon is the fourth largest city in the state, and I saw maybe a two mile stretch of road. I want to preface this review with the understanding that I was in a bad mood when I got there, I had a bad time there, and was only better when I left because I was going to have a long weekend, at home with my family.
The trip was supposed to have been a week before, but someone traced the IP address of my old server and had the temerity to show it to the company I work for. Because I kept the entities separate, they only asked me to take down the site and remove my twitter account. I got to keep my job, but my original website is now gone, and I’m starting over from scratch. I wonder if this is how General Petraeus feels?
Anyway, I am thankful that Joe Tortuga reached out to me, and let me host my stories on his site. I don’t think I can move any of the old stories over (I’m thinking about editing them somewhat) since work knows about them. I also set up a new email via Joe and a new twitter account, which needs new everything (including a logo).
He’s even posting the stories for me, and using a special email to talk back and forth so none of this can be tied back to me. It also means that Marcie and Roxie may never find their reviews, although they know what pseudonyms I gave them, and where they live, so maybe they will. One can hope that the word will spread back into the world that I am, indeed alive and still collecting blowjobs. I have, also, reset my map — I’m not sure how to post it, but we’re working on it.
So, my normal trip to Gresham would have been the week of the 12th for a full week, but got pushed back to the 19th for just three days. That meant two weeks of travel back to back, and my wife only agreed to it because Thanksgiving broke up the trip. Of course, it also meant I had very little time to do my job, and even less time to pursue my hobby.
As some of my readers may remember (if they’ve found the new site, anyway) I rarely if ever go back to a city I’ve been to. Sometimes I can hit the same metro area, but I’m never coming back to Gresham, Oregon. The way I felt during the trip, I would be glad to be out of there.
I hit the hotel bar each night, but there were few women there, and those that were quickly rebuffed me. It didn’t help that I couldn’t show any proofs now that my site was down. I was stressed, frustrated and pissed off. A blowjob would have fixed it, and not getting one just made it worse.
Finally, I just gave up and fell to my backup plan. Cash from the local ATM and a quick web search later, and Tonya was at my door within an hour. Tonya was a slightly heavyset woman with decent curves, and large breasts. She was dressed casually in jeans and a sleeveless halter top that showed off those curves. “You called?” she said, when I answered the door.
I nodded, and let her in. She started her spiel then. “I don’t do anal; I always use condoms, you got a problem with that, I can leave now. Otherwise, you’ve got me for an hour, hon.”
“I just want a blowjob,” I said.
“You can get that cheaper,” she said.
“I wanted the best Gresham has to offer,” I said. “Site gave you good marks. But I’ll be honest, I’m stressed, I want something nice and not quick. I’m also swamped with work.” I shook my head. This wasn’t going well.
“I think I get it,” she said. “Where are you working?” I gestured over to the recliner in my suite. “You just go on over there, and I’ll take care of the rest. You’ll get your money’s worth.”
I settled into the seat, and she pulled off the halter. Underneath it was a lacy but sturdy bra. She unsnapped it, and let those huge tits just fall out of it. She chuckled when she caught me watching, and sauntered over to where I sat.
Tonya leaned over me, letting those boobs dangle down in front of me. Her hands undid my belt, and pulled my pants and underwear down, and off. She set the clothes beside the chair, and knelt in front of me.
I’ll be the first to say that it’s no offense to Tonya that I wasn’t hard. She was beautiful, willing and has really nice breasts. It was the situation and the stress that kept me from responding right away. Tonya, to her credit, didn’t say anything. She just wrapped her lips around my cock and began slowly licking and sucking me.
It wasn’t fast or intense, and she didn’t use her hands. She was just kneeling between my legs, and gently holding my cock in her mouth. Her tongue ran over and around it, and made little swallowing motions that massaged my whole cock. I closed my eyes, leaned back, and let her do her thing — massage was the right word for it. It was relaxing and slow, and while I was beginning to get hard it wasn’t insistent or rushing me to orgasm.
My phone bleeped several times, in that incessant way they do when someone is texting you and emailing you and trying another half-dozen ways to get ahold of you. I ignored, but Tonya lifted off my cock. “Do what you need to, baby,” she said. “I can tell you’re more tense already.”
I opened up my phone, and started responding to the messages. It was all work related, of course. All of it was generic stupid stuff that had to be dealt with. I only had three days, after all. Tonya kept up what she was doing, and every few moments I’d stop and just concentrate on her. By the time I was done with that twenty minutes had passed and my cock was hard in Tonya’s mouth.
I set my phone aside and looked down at her. She grabbed her boobs in her hand and squeezed them together to give me a look at her cleavage, while she continued to slide her mouth up and down my cock in an easy rhythm. It wasn’t repetitive, she had a repertoire of interesting moves — tongue swirls, sucking patterns and every few strokes she’d swallow my cock hole and lick my balls while she did it. Now that I wasn’t on the phone, she ramped it up a bit with those techniques, edging me ever so slowly towards orgasm.
She was experienced and capable, and it showed. She also wasn’t really into it. It was what she did for a living — competent and capable, and I hoped she didn’t hate it, like so many of us hate our jobs. (I don’t, for the record, but then there are nice perks!) Normally that enthusiasm was what drove me over the edge, the amateur excitement of doing something. The way some women knew I would be writing about them online, talking about how they did such a good job at sex. It got them off, got them excited, and in turn that excitement goes to me.
None of that was there with Tonya, but I knew I’d get off anyway. She was driving me there, inch by inch, taking her own sweet time. I knew she could get me off faster, but as she said - I had the whole hour. That’s when I realized that she knew she could get me off faster, too, but she wasn’t. She was dragging this out at her own pace. I may be the receiver of this, and the “customer” but she was putting herself in charge.
I smiled at her when I realized what she was doing. I nodded at her, leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. When you hire a professional to help you with a problem, you should get out of their way and let them do their job. Tonya was definitely a pro and so I let her. I let myself relax, letting out all the stress, fee ling it flow down and out of me, and into my cock. Tonya just sucked it all out of me.
I lost track of time, and almost of myself. I was just a lump in a chair getting my cock sucked. I didn’t even realize I was about to come, until I did. Normally, I warn the person I’m with when I’m about to come — some people want to swallow, some really hate the taste. Today, though, I was shouting out as I came. The last bit of stress left me, and I sat there for a minute, just recovering.
“I’m sorry,” I said to her. “Usually I like to warn people.”
“Oh, I knew you were about to come, honey,” Tonya said, as she pulled on her top.”Can I borrow your bathroom?” I nodded and she went in. I grabbed my wallet and slipped a couple more bills out and put them on the table by the door with her other money. She came out a moment later, her hair neatened up and her makeup freshened.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Sure thing,” she replied. She slipped the money off the table as she left, and that was that.
I felt about a million times better than I had. More relaxed, more centered, and a lot less angry. I have a new place for my stories — as you can see now. I’ll have to rebuild, but it will happen. I do still have my job, and that’s something. Also, none of my trips in December are going to be these short weeks. (Although I’ll be gone over a weekend at the end of the year.) Hopefully it’ll be easier to find review material in Fort Collins in a couple of weeks.
As it was though, I was glad to put Gresham, OR behind me. Tonya was the one bright spot of my stay. That was, I believe, the name she used on the website — and surely an alias — in case you need to look her up while you’re there. It was certainly worth it to me.**
Feel free to post questions or comments. If you have questions for The Fellatist I’ll pass them on and post his responses. Thanks, JoeTortuga!
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