The Perfect Woman, Plus (Part I) - Sex Stories

The Perfect Woman, Plus (Part I)

This is the 1st part of a 3 parts story. It is not mine but I hope you like it... The week my girlfriend Monica broke up with me, I had to fly to New York City for a convention. I must admit, my mind wasn’t on business, and the first chance I got, I went to the hotel bar to drown my sorrows. The bar was fairly empty, which was O.K. with me, since I wasn’t really in the mood for conversation anyway. I was half-way through my first pint of Guinness when the cocktail waitress brought me another glass. “Hey,” I objected. “I didn’t order this!” “Relax,” the pretty brunette said. “It’s from the lady over there. She said to give you this note.” I glanced across the dimly lit bar and caught a glimpse of a gorgeous, buxom blonde sitting at a corner booth, alone. I blushed. “It must be a mistake,” I thought. “She probably meant this for that tall guy at the end of the bar.” I’m not the kind of guy strange women buy drinks. I’m only 5’7”, for one thing, and I’m pretty average looking. I wear glasses, have a slight “beer belly” and kinda short brown hair. Nothing to write home to mother about. I read the note. “You can either sit there looking hang-dog all evening, or you can come here and keep me company, doll.” Well, my momma didn’t raise any stupid k**s. I finished my pint, picked up the other one and walked across the bar, still a bit perplexed. What could this gorgeous woman want with me? “God,” I thought. “I really hope she’s not a hooker!” “Hello, handsome,” she said in a sultry, ...

... husky cigarette rasp. Like an idiot, I shook her hand. She was radiantly lovely. She had a high forehead, long cheekbones, thin nose and full red lips. Her eyes were deep, emerald green and a waterfall of honey-blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders. She was wearing a black leather halter top and mini-dress which really accented her gorgeous, full breasts. This woman could have given Pamela Anderson a run for her money. Her legs were long, luscious and elegant in her sheer black nylons. Even her feet, encased in black stiletto pumps were sexy and perfect. “Hi,” I stammered, almost spilling my drink. “I’m William, but you can call me Bill.” “Amber,” she said, offering her gloved hand again. This time I was smart and kissed her hand. She smiled prettily and said “Sit down, Bill.” We made some small talk. I couldn’t stop staring at her huge, beautiful white tits, or her luscious, curvy legs, which she kept crossing provocatively. She must have caught me staring, because she squeezed her breasts between her hands and asked me if I liked what I saw. I said I did, and she ran her left leg up mine under the table. I was getting a huge “stiffy” just looking at her. I wanted her so bad it ached, and she knew it! “Listen, Bill,” Amber said in that sexy, smoky voice. “I don’t believe in wasting time. Why don’t you finish your beer, and then come up to my room. Here’s the key. Just give me a few minutes to freshen up.” I was stunned. No woman had ever “picked me up.” It was amazing! I ...