Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
I traveled to the Midland/Odessa area several times alone on business several years back. Recently divorced then, I looked hard for any kind of sexual fun, but found nothing but very conservative, God-fearing people there.
On my last trip there on the last full day I’d be in the area, I ate lunch at a blue-plate-special type of old-fashioned diner where the waitresses wear uniforms and call you “Hon.” Sorry I can’t remember the name of the place. I was flirting with my waitress really more to entertain myself than thinking I might actually get anywhere with her.
She was a pretty-good-looking middle-aged bleached blonde with too much make-up and major league yabbahoes, with “Irma” embroidered above the left one on her uniform. She ignored my come-ons, which just egged me on. Like I said, I was bored, and she gave no indication she was interested. After she brought me a piece of black bottom pie (yes, I made the all-too-obvious double entendre joke), she didn’t come back, so I left her a nice tip, paid the cashier, and left.
I’d parked around back because there was an actual sliver of shade in this nearly treeless semi-desert part of Texas and was in my car rummaging through papers in my briefcase when I was startled by a tap on my window. It was Irma. With her purse slung over a shoulder, she simply said, “I’m off now and ready to screw.”
We drove back to my motel, and she was already disrobing before I set my briefcase down. I could tell before that she had a decent body, but, wow, under that loose, aproned uniform, Irma had an incredible physique: enormous, meaty tits with huge areolas having barely a nipple in the center, a tiny waist, a butt so firm you could bounce a coin off it, and super-smooth, slender legs formerly concealed by thick, white stockings. Even with a hard-living look, she still had an appealing face.
In that West Texas drawl, she said, checking her watch, “I’m workin’ a splee-ut shee-uft and gotta be bay-uck by fie-uv.”
I İstanbul Escort took that to mean we should dispense with small talk and get down to business, so that’s just what I did.
I tell you, I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman more determined to please a man. She kept asking me over and over if what she was doing was good, be it sucking my cock, slurping my balls, eating out my butt, titty-fucking, fucking in every possible position, butt-fucking. You name it, she was more than willing to do anything. It was all great, and she seemed to be enjoying it at least as much as I.
I’d cum in her tight little butthole and she was still on all fours while I was watching the cream slowly ooze out down across her hefty pussy lips and onto her pubic hair when I made the comment, “You’ve got quite a bush there.”
She did have an enormous hedge of dark brown pussy hair, and, yes, I do prefer shaved or closely trimmed pubic hair, but my comment was not intended as a put-down. She thought I was criticizing her, and immediately said she knew younger men (I was only at most a five years her junior) liked bare pussies because that’s what her daughter, who shaved hers, told her.
Daughter? A younger, prettier version of Irma? Hmmm.
Irma said she wouldn’t know where to begin, and when I mentioned I’d shaved pubes many a time, she begged for me to do hers.
With nothing else to do while Mr. Johnson recharged for round 2, I broke out my razor and cream and shaved her clean. When I finished, she kept looking at herself in the mirror, and just loved it. Irma did, in fact, now that all that hair was gone, have a fabulous looking pussy, the kind with a really prominent mound above and bulging outer lips that converged around huge, hanging inner labia. Her clit was big enough to deserve it own zip code.
Well, that got me revved again, so back at it we went every which way. Now that her pussy was bare, I could really go to oral town on it, which she loved, İstanbul Escort cumming several times. I fucked her as hard and fast as I could go and sure enjoyed the sight and sound—a noisy squish-squish with each stroke—but, although it felt good, I was never going to cum in that big ol’ hole.
So I pulled out and pointed my cock at her face, and Irma took it on like a project, sucking and slurping and jacking with mouth and both hands. Determined to make me ejaculate, she began to wonderfully deep-throat me, and, with her eyes darting over to the clock–4:45 PM–I knew it was time to blow or go. She hiked up her tremendous tits, looked up into my eyes, and I blasted down her swallowing throat for a mind-bending orgasm.
Irma quickly freshened up, and at exactly 5:00 PM, I dropped her off at the diner. Getting out of the car, she said with the most sincerity, “Thank you so much, darlin’. I ree-ly needed thay-ut. I shore apprishate ya. You come back now, ya hear?!”
On the long, monotonous drive back to Dallas the next day, I was trying to come up with a simple, real-world example to introduce cost-benefit analysis (COBA) because I would soon be leading a training class on that topic for a group of new, first-line manufacturing supervisors, all men. The story of my encounter with Irma was a perfect illustration of COBA.
First, the costs:
Capital Outlay: Zero. Irma was a waitress, not a whore, and I didn’t even take her out on a date and spend a red cent.
Food: I gave her a generous $5.00 tip on a lunch costing about ten bucks, but I would have eaten regardless, and left that much gratuity for good service, not what unexpectedly happened later. So that expense doesn’t even count, as in COBA, you only account for additional resources. The $15 meal and tip were expenses allocated to the Midland consulting project; so my food cost was also zip.
Travel: We went back to my motel–$80 a night including tax–but again, I already had the Escort İstanbul room, anyway, so that was nothing extra. Driving Irma back to work and then back to the motel was an extra 12-mile round trip, which, at the $.33/mile IRS reimbursement rate in effect at the time, comes out to $3.96. To be honest, because it was so negligible and was buried in with all the other miles I drove for that assignment, the $3.96 was charged to my client. But to be precise, it should have been separated out as my own cost and allocated to Irma.
Opportunity cost. This is the element that is often omitted from COBA. What was the “price” I paid for spending the afternoon with Irma instead of using those three hours to do something else that could have generated income? Well, in this case, nothing, and here’s why:
I’d officially wrapped up with my client at noon, when the off-going shift was over, but I stayed there another hour or so to prepare for the next session which began at 8:00 PM. So, I had around 6 ½ hours to eat lunch, catch some sleep, shower, and then eat dinner before starting the final class, which would not end until 4:00 AM. After that, I was done, so I returned to the motel, where I crashed, checked out at noon, then drove back home to Dallas. Had Irma and I not fucked the previous afternoon, I would have probably been sleeping and not working gainfully. Loss of sleep IS a cost, just impossible to quantify in terms of dollars and cents.
Total costs = $3.96
Now, the benefits:
Irma was not THE best-looking woman on earth, but she’d rank an 8.0 on a scale of 1 to 10. She was every bit a 9 on the sexual-performance scale, and her easy-going West Texas manner was a solid 9 on the personality scale, as well. That averages out to 8.66. Comparing her to other eight-and-two-thirds women I’d bedded, that translated into around $400, an estimate, for sure, but a reasonable figure for money spent on similar women to get laid.
So, rounding off, a cost of $4.00 divided by a benefit of $400 yielded a ratio of .01—outstanding. In fact, using COBA, Irma was unquestionably the best sexual value I ever had!
I never went back to that part of Texas, but if I did, I’d surely look her up.
Maybe you should, too. She was an exceptional “‘bang’ for the buck!”
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32