This week, The Fellatist _ recounts his adventure in Hollywood, Florida late last month._
Hollywood, FL : Roxie
October 29, 2012
Late October found me, luckily, travelling to Hollywood, Florida, which was still warm by any standard, particularly of my northeast home. I splurged a bit on my hotel, staying at the Westin Diplomat, a five star hotel right on the beach. I’d tell you all about it, but you didn’t come here for a hotel review, but a review of something more intimate.
The hotel bar was busy enough, but everyone there was from out of town. It had some hopes, but isn’t my preferred choice. I like to get a little local flavor in, and other than the barkeeper who was handsome and obviously straight, there weren’t any obvious local options. The hotel, though, had a patio that wend down onto the beach. I pulled on a pair of cargo shorts, a button-down short sleeve shirt, and a pair of loafers, and headed out to the beach proper.
There’s no way I could have dressed that way back home, but it was in the 80s in Florida, and I intended to enjoy that, if nothing else. The moon was full, and reflected off the ocean water, so I turned and walked a bit up the beach.
When I got past the hotel’s space, there was a woman sitting on the beach looking out at the ocean. She wore a white linen wrap and sat on a towel there. “Hello,” I said.
“Hi,” she replied. She turned toward me and I saw she was wearing a bikini under the wrap. Her breasts were nice and round. Her hair was dark — it might have been red or brown, but I couldn’t tell in the moonlight — and it hung down to her shoulder in waves. She grinned at me, and her teeth were big and white and bright in the darkness.
I stopped next to her and looked out at the ocean. “It’s beautiful,” I said.
“It is,” she said. “I come out here a lot, but full moon nights are my favorite.”
“Do you usually do it in a bikini?” I asked. “I’m glad you do, for what its worth.”
She laughed. “I like to swim on nights like this. The water is still warm enough and no one else is here. Well, mostly no one — and few tourists.”
“I’m not exactly a tourist,” I said. “I’m staying at the Westin for business.”
“Well, I could forgive you that,” she said, “but only if you come swimming with me.”
“I’m not exactly —”
“Boxers or briefs?” she asked. “I’m Roxie by the way. Usually I let people know that before asking what kind of underwear they have.”
“Boxers,” I replied, giving her my name. They’re easier for my other proclivities, after all.
“You’ll be fine. I’ve also got an extra towel or two.” She stood up and pulled off the wrap, letting it fall to her towel. I watched her. “Well, come on,” she said. “The water really is warm.”
I shook my head, and kicked off my shoes. She ran ahead. By the time I got my street clothes off, she was out in the water. The full moon made it easy to spot her, though. I waded out into the water which was not really all that warm. When I got out to her, I complained. “This is not warm!”
“Oh, get your head wet,” she said. She dove down beside me and swam beside me, brushing up against me as she did. I shrugged, grabbed my nose, and let myself go under.
“Okay, okay,” I said as I came up. “That is better.”
“Told you so,” she said.
We were out past the breaking waves, at the point in the ocean where you could only touch bottom when you were in the trough of the wave. It was relaxing and (as I later discovered) somewhat tiring. I also want to say that boxers aren’t really an ideal replacement for swim trunks. There is no tie to keep them on, and then there’s the gaping hole in the front. I guess I can be glad there was over six feet of water to keep me from embarrassing myself.
“So,” Roxie said. “What do you do when you’re not swimming in the ocean at night?”
“I could ask the same of you.”
“I’m an assistant manager at one of these hotels,” she said.
“Thus your need to get away from tourists.”
“Yes, but you dodged the question: what do you do?”
“For business or for fun?”
“Either. No, both.”
I told her a bit about my day job, and how it let me travel. “That’s where the fun part comes in,” I said.
“Okay,” she said.
“My goal is to get a blowjob in every US City with more than 20,000 people.”
“What does your wife think about that?”
“She knows, I even review the blowjobs online. If you have a smartphone, I can prove it to you. Just search on ‘The Fellatist’.”
We bounced a bit more, riding the waves up and down. Roxie moved a bit closer to me, though. After a few moments, she said. “Okay, you’re on. It’s time to go back in, anyway.” She dove down into the water, and kicked off. The next thing I knew, she was body surfing a wave onto the shore.
It took me a bit longer, if only because I had to keep my boxers on and my privates in, while fighting the waves. As I approached, she threw me a towel. “Okay, what was your website again?” She pulled out her smartphone, and looked it up. I towelled off as dry as I could get, and settled down on the blanket beside her. She was absorbed in my work.
As she read, I looked out at the moons reflection on the waves, and listened as they crashed in and out. My patience was rewarded, when I felt her hand slide over my stomach. I turned, and she was holding her smartphone so that she could slide a finger under her bikini top to play with a nipple. The other hand was moving south to investigate the hole in my boxers.
I chuckled, and she dropped the phone and blushed. “No,” I said. “Go ahead.” I reached over and slid my hand over the tops of her breasts, and she turned to face me. Her lips were parted, and I gave her a gentle kiss. Her hand pulled my cock out and wrapped around it, stroking it lightly.
“Do you have somewhere to go?” I asked. “My hotel room?”
She slid closer to me on the blanket, pulling it half on us. “The beach will be fine.” I glanced around, and realized just how alone we were — the nearest person was easily 100 yards away or more, and not paying us any attention. I kissed her again, and slid my hand over her body. I cupped her boobs, and squeezed them lightly. She took my hand and slid it down over her belly and to the thin cloth of her bikini bottom.
I cupped her pussy then, and slid the cloth out of my way. She kissed me, and I played with the folds of her pussy, finding them already somewhat moist. As she got wetter, I slid my finger inside, and found her clit. I touched it and she broke the kiss with a sign. “You’re going to write about this, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Oh, God.” I played with her clit then, rubbing her until she came. Her hand stroked my cock the whole time, squeezing it a bit hard when she finally cam e. “Thank you,” she said. “I guess it’s my turn.”
I lay back, and she pulled the covers over us a bit better. She didn’t pull my boxers off, but pulled my balls out through the hole. One hand cupped them, as she kissed the tip of my cock. After a couple of kisses, she just moaned, and swallowed me whole. I could tell she was still horny — it’s one of the down sides to my rules, that this is as far as we can go.
Roxie began bobbing up and down on my cock, taking it in, licking it. There was no real rhythm to it, but there was a lot of enthusiasm. She wanted cock, my cock right then. There’s something really amazing about that, and it’s why I prefer to find local amateurs than going the other route. Some amateurs are really skilled, but many people aren’t.
But often that doesn’t matter. Technique isn’t everything. It’s what’s there when there isn’t anything else, but with Roxie what was there was a lot of passion. She was into it, and she was doing it. She was all over my cock with her mouth, her hands, even her breasts at one point. Finally, I realized I was being too analytical, and just let her do her thing.
I was hard and close once I relaxed. Her exuberance for the whole thing drove me closer, and I warned her, “I’m close.” She swallowed me whole then, her tongue sliding around my cock, and her hand playing with my balls. I took that as permission, and came into her mouth. She swallowed, and then spent a few minutes licking my cock clean before stuffing it back in my boxers.
She turned around and curled up next to me. “So,” she said. “You can see why I like full moon nights at the beach.”
“I can.” So there you have it: you can swim in the ocean in October and at night on a full moon. You can sit next to a beautiful woman and listen to the waves crash in. And I can put a star on my map — and a recommendation on my web site — for Hollywood, Florida.**
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