Extrasensory deprivation

Author's Note: This story has been posted to Literotica. Com with the full knowledge of the original author, JimBob44. No part or whole of this story may be reprinted in any other format or on any other web site without the express written consent of the original author.

Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

**..**

This is a dark tale.

This is a dark, sordid tale.

This is a dark, sordid and very bleak tale.

**.**

Amilynne Rachel Turner walked up the metal steps of the Budget Stay Motel's external staircase. With each step, she could feel the hem of her short skirt caressing the bottom of her ass cheeks. She could feel the weight of her waist-length blonde hair bouncing in the thick ponytail. She could feel her hard nipples drag back and forth, back and forth as the steps mace her unfettered breasts gently sway from side to side.

Every so often, one of the steps would groan or creak underneath her feet. There was very little sound other than her steps; there was no traffic on this isolated avenue. Even during business hours, there was very little traffic; most of the businesses had boarded up and moved away.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she searched for Room 203. She knew this was a dangerous game she was playing. Each time she ventured out, met a new customer she knew it could be the last time she played this game.

She took one last look around the neighborhood at the run-down urban blight. This area of the city had never enjoyed any real prosperity and each year brought it closer and closer to its complete demise. Walking from where the ride-share had let her out to the steps of the outside staircase of the motel, Amilynne had been approached four times by panhandlers demanding money. But as she told them, she wouldn't be here if she had any money.

In the dying sun, the desolation stretched all around. There was little traffic, cars or pedestrians to break up the harsh lines and faded colors. Standing on the concrete walkway, she could smell rotted garbage and other smells.

"Rust. Does rust have an odor?" Amilynne asked herself.

Turning, the attractive nineteen year old blonde gave two knocks, then one knock and two knocks. That had been her last text message to 'George.' She would knock twice, then once, then twice again. Their first text message exchange had verified that neither Amilynne nor George were affiliated in any way, shape or form with any law enforcement agency.

"I, uh, I, hi," the forty two year old man stammered as he opened the motel room door.

"Hi, Sugar," Amilynne snapped her gum, revealing all of her pearly white teeth.

She almost giggled as the middle-aged salesman blinked. She knew she was pretty; her first and only boyfriend had said she was beautiful. She had a lightly tanned square face, deep brown eyes, a snub nose and pouting pink lips. Standing at five feet, five inches and having 32C breasts with light brown areolae the size of half-dollar coins, a 28 inch waist and 31 inch hips and perfect heart shaped ass above sculpted thighs, she had graced a few magazine pictorials; the most recent being Parasols Magazine.

Before George could invite Amilynne in, she snapped a quick cell phone picture of him and sent it to Coleen, her roommate. Then, without waiting to be invited in, Amilynne pushed past the still stammering man.

The room was just like hundreds of other motel rooms. A queen sized bed, headboard affixed to the wall, cheap polyester bedspread and three misshapen foam rubber pillows. One pressboard nightstand, holding a garish metal lamp with stained lampshade, weak LED bulb barely giving off enough light to see the cheap digital alarm clock-radio. Near the heavy curtains was a small table and two chairs. Over the table was another light fixture, also with an LED bulb that gave off little light. The bed faced a low dresser and on that dresser was a 24 inches monitor that was bolted to the top of the dresser. To the right of the television was a faded mirror.

The motel room had the same odor of many motel rooms. A slightly decaying aroma underlying the chemical odor of the cleaners the housekeeping staff used. The cheap floral scent of the detergent they used to clean the sheets and polyester bedspreads.

Amilynne smirked; the television was showing a pornographic movie. For a moment, she could not tell the genre George had decided to watch. It could have been 'Anal' as the cute blonde was being roughly sodomized by a thick cock. Or it could have been 'Blonde' even though the girl's eyebrows were suspiciously dark. Or it could have been 'Shaved' because her snatch was nice and smooth.

"License," Amilynne demanded as George closed the door of the room.

"Huh?" George asked.

"License. License. Your driver's license," Amilynne demanded, putting her hand into her purse for her.38 snub nose.

"Oh, oh yeah," George said, reaching for his back pocket.

According to the Ohio driver's license, George was the man's real name. George Whitaker. Amilynne snapped the photograph and sent it to Coleen. When she handed the license back to George, she casually blew a bubble with the bright pink bubble gum. Giving the still nervous man a sassy smile, Amilynne spat the gum into a tissue and dropped the gum and tissue into the wastebasket at the end of the low dresser. This did two things; it got rid of the flavorless gum and it left her DNA in the room. George didn't look dangerous, but Amilynne knew that looks could be deceiving.

"Got the money, Sugar?" Amilynne asked, stepping up and lightly running her fingertips over his surprisingly hard left pectoral.

"I uh, two, two fifty, right?" George asked, producing a few bills folded over.

"Mm hmm," she cooed, brushing his lips with hers before taking the money from his right hand.

She quickly verified the amount then dropped the bills into her purse. She zipped the purse then put the purse onto the table. She then slipped her feet from her canvas sneakers, put one knee onto the stiff foam mattress and reached down for George's belt.

"Here, let me," George insisted, pulling his loose pullover shirt up and off.

His chest had some hair on it. His arms were muscular, his shoulders were broad and his arms were tanned. His chest and flat belly were pasty white, showing that George rarely went shirtless in public.

His hair was beginning to gray but was still dark brown. His eyes were also chocolate brown, separated by a nose that had been broken at one time or another. His oval face was not handsome but was rather plain, other than the broken nose.

Tossing his shirt into the miniscule closet, George then kicked his suede loafers toward the small closet.

Amilynne smirked; his shirt had been a navy blue in color; his shoes and belt were tan and his slacks were khaki. Yet, his socks were black Gold toe brand. On the television, an Asian woman was being sodomized by a heavily freckled red head wearing an incredibly large strap-on cock.

"See you like anal," Amilynne commented, nodding toward the television.

"I uh, it, that, that's what was on when I turned the TV on," George lied as he slid his khakis down his pale hairy legs

"It's cool," Amilynne said, smirking once more at the sight of the knee high black socks. "I like anal too."

"I uh, oh yeah?" Georg said, sliding his plain white cotton briefs down.

Amilynne stared for a long moment at George's fat cock and heavy balls. He was circumcised with a fat plum shaped head, thick shaft with a tick vein and dark patch of hair.

"Oh Sugar, that, we're going have so much fun," Amilynne cooed.

She unbuttoned then pulled her blouse off, dropping the garment onto one of the wobbly chairs. She let him feast his eyes on her teardrop shaped breasts and hard nipples for a long moment, then unzipped her pleated skirt. The ridiculously short garment joined her blouse on the chair and she stood, letting him get a long look at her lightly tanned body and freshly waxed crotch. Turning, she let him see her smooth back and perfectly formed buttocks as she crawled onto the bed. She then patted the mattress, inviting him to join her.

He clumsily lay onto the mattress. He began babbling something; apparently George was still nervous about the whole thing. Amilynne had noticed the very thick wedding band on his hand when he'd opened the door; perhaps this was his first time cheating on his wife.

Amilynne silenced his pointless blathering with a soft kiss to his lips, then a firm finger over his mouth. She gripped his throbbing cock in her small hand and gave the smooth shaft a few firm strokes. Judging from the look in his eyes, it would not take much to coax the first load o semen from him.

With another feather light kiss to his lips, Amilynne bent and took the plum shaped head into her mouth. She could taste his excitement already oozing from the tip of his manhood as she flicked her tongue all around his cock, bathing it with her saliva.

Again, he started talk; apparently this was something his wife refused to do for him. Amilynne let him prattle on and on as she focused her attention on sucking cock.

Humming the Star Spangled Banner while he was thrust into her mouth to the hilt did shut him up. With a strangled scream, George pumped several ropes of semen into Amilynne's gullet. None too gently, he pushed her head away from his cock.

"Sorry. Sorry. Too, always so sensitive after I come," he apologized.

"That's okay. Some guys are like that," Amilynne agreed.

Laying back on a misshapen, clumpy pillow, Amilynne watched the mindless pornography on the television. A brunette was using a strap-on cock to sodomize a handsome man while he sodomized a petite Asian. Amilynne wondered where the remote control for the television was; she didn't see it anywhere in the motel room.

Reaching down, she gripped George's cock and lightly stroked it. Soon, it began to rise and Amilynne smiled at the man. She could smell his sweat now. He had smelled of cheap bargain brand soap earlier; his cock had tasted of soap tinged with just a little sweat. She appreciated the fact that he was not marinating in cheap after-shave.

She took him into her mouth once more, working him to full erection. Then, she swiveled around, straddling his hips.

"Oooh!" they both groaned as his cock slid slowly into her tight wet folds. She watched his eyes as he glanced down to see his cock sliding into her hairless mound. While he watched her fucking herself on his cock, George's hands reached up to play with her tits.

"God damn, o God damn, that, oh, that's nice," he praised as she used her PC muscles to squeeze him in her depths.

She could tell he was close; over the past few minutes, his breathing had become more and more ragged. She reached down and began rubbing her clitoris while continuing her bouncing gait. He panted and groaned and hunched up to meet her down strokes.

"Oooh!" she sighed as she achieved a mild orgasm.

"Argh!" he cried out as his sperm flooded into her depths.

"Yes, oh yes, yes, that's it, that's it," Amilynne encouraged, still rubbing herself.

When he was fully flaccid, Amilynne dismounted. Again, she lay on the bed to his right, idly watching a heavily freckled red head with impossibly large breasts being made airtight on the television. She could feel his semen trickling from her splayed lips, slowly dribbling along the insides of her thighs.

"Never had three at the same time," Amilynne admitted, watching the very fluid choreography of the four actors.

"Makes two of us," George admitted, watching the action on the television.

As his cock slowly revived, Amilynne could feel her heart beginning to hammer in her chest. This, this was the truly dangerous part. Meeting a stranger in a decrepit motel room, charging a strange man for sex was risky enough.

She'd survived a handful of these encounters and had only once needed to pull her handgun from her purse. The bastard had decided he wanted his money back, even after she'd blown him twice.

"Can I trust you?" she whispered into his ear.

"I uh, yeah, I, I guess. I mean, what, what you want?" George stammered, her odd question catching him off-guard.

"I want you to choke me," she whispered.

"You what?" he asked, sitting up slightly to gape at her.

"While you're fucking my ass," Amilynne said, crawling off of the bed.

"Hey, I, I'm not into that kinky shit," he protested as she grabbed his belt from his discarded trousers.

"Aw, come on Sugar," Amilynne pouted as she looped his belt around her throat.

"You, you're serious?" George squawked as she unzipped her purse and produced a tube of lubricant.

"Just until I give you the signal," Amilynne purred, coating his stiff cock with the thick gel.

That afternoon, after she'd given herself two enemas, Amilynne had thrust the tube into her rectum and squeezed a dollop of the lubricant into herself. She'd learned after the first time, most men did not realize that the anus des not produce any lubrication.

With George still squawking his protests, Amilynne got onto the bed on hands and knees facing the television. Slowly, George got onto his knees, stiff cock bobbling as he knee-walked to her.

"Okay, Sugar, when I give you the signal," Amilynne said, showing him the signal of thumb, index and middle fingers extended, "You need to stop. Got it?"

"Okay, uh, how, how I do this?" George nervously said, greasy head of his cock grazing along her left buttock.

"Just grab the belt and start pulling," Amilynne counseled. "Just start pulling; don't be a pussy about it."

"How, how's a pretty girl like you get into this kind of shit?" George asked as he tried to stuff his cock into her resisting hole.

"Long story," Amilynne said, reaching back and guiding his cock into her anus. "Oh! Oh God, I, I love an up..."