Deja’s Surprise

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My first full day in South Africa headed toward its end and aware I had felt very lonely exploring the town, its shops and wandering along the beach, I questioned the wisdom of three weeks seven thousand miles from London. Shops closed and too early for dinner at my hotel, I killed time in ‘Deja’s’ — its owner’s abbreviation of ‘Déjà vu’ — an apt name for a bar unintentionally stuck in the early nineteen fifties in England except for twin high-mounted plasma screens at the L-shaped bar’s vertical stroke ends. Respectively tuned to cricket and rugby, they and several gambling machines at the far end of the bar’s vertical pandered to the mostly male Afrikaans patrons’ loves of sport and gambling as they gossiped in a mixture of Afrikaans and English and indulged their other evident passion, downing copious amounts of lager.

Sitting sideways on my stool at the end of the bar’s horizontal gave perfect views of the rest of the bar, street below and a lone figure sitting at the corner table on my left drowning sorrows in her fourth short within half hour. Ordered from the Afrikaans sports fan section, I had been unable to hear her accent and assumed she was a local Afrikaans or from Johannesburg staying at her holiday home, more likely parents’ judged by her youth. Short jet-black hair, ebony eyes, beautiful round featured face, stunning figure — obvious charms aided by skimpy shorts and a tight, backless, halter neck top revealing her light gold tan leaving little to imagination — made it impossible not to notice her and heavy drinking and evident sadness ensured I did. She strutted over to order her next drink in hearing distance at the far end of my part of the bar, I muttered, “English,” under my breath, waited for her to settle at her table and casually wandered over to it.

“Excuse me,” I began. “I’d have come to say it anyway but heard your English accent when you ordered that drink, your fifth in rapid succession, and it makes it easier. I don’t know how well you know this country or want to scare you but it has a very high crime rate, first full day here and I’ve heard a long list of serious crimes in this small seaside town. I’ve only seen Xhosa in the taxis, no Afrikaans, they’re all minibuses based up a side street by an off-licence and there was a crowd of drunks sitting around when I walked past less than an hour ago. It’s risky for a girl to wander UK streets alone at night, far more so if she’s drunk and fifty times more so here. You can’t hail a cab UK-style and I hope you don’t intend walking to your hotel. Do you have a safe means of getting there or is someone collecting you?”

Ebony eyes fixed on my face, widened briefly, narrowed as a lone feathery eyebrow flickered upward and made a swift return journey from my face to my feet. Slightly curled lips betrayed amusement in her otherwise blank expression. “Most original chat-up line I’ve ever heard, tells me I’m drunk and puts on a guardian angel act, feigned interest in my safety not body.”

“Not an act or feigned,” I growled. “I said I’d have come to say it anyway but you’re English, alone, beautiful, scantily clad, getting plastered and I’m concerned. Most guys in here are tanked up, they’ve all noticed you, you’ve put down a few, one may try it on when you leave and there are all the risks outside. I’m a cop in the Met, know what happens in London and that far worse happens here.”

“Ooh, want to wrap the long arm of the law round my bod in a wholly unofficial capacity,” she teased straight-faced. “Thanks for your compliment,” She flashed a smile and promptly growled, “Prove you’re a cop.”

I reached for my wallet and flashed my warrant card.

“Detective Chief Inspector Gregory Harrison is a high-flyer to be that rank at his age.” She winked impishly. “Lousy cop at surveillance, glances weren’t subtle, ogled my bod more than my drinking, haven’t proved fancying me wasn’t a major part of your equation in coming to my table. I’m Lisa, Lisa Adams, or do you want me to prove it, Gregory or Greg?”

“No,” I confirmed. “It’s ‘Greg’ and how will you get to where you’re staying?”

“Hadn’t thought about it, don’t need to now, my guardian angel, DCI Greg Harrison, will be very happy to escort me on the long walk to the Bay Hotel.” She flashed a smile. “Get your drink and come and sit down.”

“Thanks. I’m at the Bay too, three weeks, only other five-star on offer in the UK was twice the price but it’s the same here, checked this morning.” I collected my drink and settled into the chair opposite her on my return.

“How much did fancying me weigh in playing guardian angel and how pleased are you that the same hotel means you can indulge your fancy if I let you?” Lisa asked. “Honest answers.”

“Are you always so direct, Lisa?” I grunted disapprovingly. “I said twice I’d have come over anyway. You’re beautiful, stunning, and I fancy your looks, what man wouldn’t? We’ve just met, I don’t know if I fancy your direct and feisty personality but I’d like to discover the less full on version if there is one and find out if I do.”

Lisa flashed sarıyer escort a smile. “Thanks for your compliments and honesty. Always direct, believe you were concerned, good guy not just that you’re a cop, knew you fancy me, wanted to know its part in your equation.”

“Thanks. You’re not an inveterate boozer; dare I ask why you’re hitting the bottle?”

Lisa shrugged her shoulders and sighed. “Lost my virginity to my boyfriend at sixteen, lived at eighteen, past five years, first his then mine, booked and paid for this holiday six months ago, he moved out and in with a blonde tart he’d obviously fucked for months five weeks ago. I had the tickets, decided to come alone, first night, felt sorry for myself, saw this bar and decided to get pissed but it’s not easy; I can hold my drink.” She looked me up and down and frowned thoughtfully. “No wife or girlfriend, I’m amazed the handsome sexy hunk hasn’t been snapped up.”

“I’m sorry about your boyfriend,” I whispered sympathetically. “Same boat sort-of, all work and no play led to Jenny divorcing me last year, no holiday for ages, decided to come and see how things have changed since apartheid ended and Mandela came to power, enjoy the climate, see the wildlife and so on. Well, no big five this side of the mountains or hundreds of kilometres beyond, preferred a coastal town to being stuck in a reserve. Fourteen rand to the pound helped.”

“I’m sorry,” Lisa said apologetically. “Hope you learnt your lesson, neglected wives play away or realise they’re effectively single and may as well be in reality.” She winked impishly. “Two lonely souls far from home who fancy each other, out of practice divorced good guy doesn’t know how to deal with the girl now he’s met her, especially now he knows staying at the same hotel means avoidance will be difficult and he can’t just say ‘Bye’ and beat a retreat.”

“Sums it up, I guess,” I muttered absent-mindedly.

Lisa’s ebony eyes fixed on me and she opened fire, a Kalashnikov at full burst. “Twenty-three, five foot eight, metre seventy-three, corporate law solicitor, own my flat in Islington, direct, honest, loyal, not a bitch, say what I feel, get it off my chest, well, braless 36Cs that grip your attention, only had sex with my ex, uninhibited, oversexed horny bitch, no pubes, all over fake tan, pussy is the only pink skin.” She paused briefly to suck air. “Same hotel, I’m here for three weeks, you leave the day before me, so two options. First, dating but good guy won’t make a move on me until he’s sure it won’t be rebuffed or is so desperate he takes the risk, so I’ll have to take the lead. As to that and assuming we don’t fall out, after first base, French kisses, no second, touching up my boobs, or third, fingering or eating my pussy with or without me giving you a hand or blowjob, straight to a homerun, get naked and make love, no holds barred; second and third tease, want them, reality is wanting a homerun. Second, room share, straight to a homerun, really get to know each other by being lovers, keep the spare room tonight and tomorrow and if we’re still lovers the next morning, vacate it and try to get a refund. We can survive in a room as ex-lovers or be an item when we get back to the UK if we remain lovers.”

“Definitely very direct,” I grunted. “All rattled off at Mach One, I didn’t expect the stats, pube or pussy info and certainly didn’t a room-share proposal.”

Lisa scowled and narrowed her eyes. “Despite reservations about my personality, you have major hots. It’s mutual, I didn’t intend a relationship and don’t want a vague platonic or sexual one that’ll fizzle out when we hit UK soil. We’ll make or break fast in a room share, make it to departure day, I live in London, you’re in the Met so you do too, live together there and see where it leads.” She paused and hinted a smirk. “I’m being practical, cutting out all the crap, never made such an offer before, only open for acceptance for the next thirty seconds, so chicken and pussyfoot or cock and pussy freely available in a room share?”

“Practical,” I conceded. “Just very surprised you made the room share offer, which I accept. I’m twenty-six, six foot, metre eighty-three, ex and I lost our virginity to each other, not had sex with anyone else, own my flat in Putney, eight and a half inches, twenty-two centimetres, circumcised.”

Lisa burst into giggles. “Wow! Inched out of your shell to accept and more to be direct, took a leaf out my book, didn’t expect the cock info and I’ll know if you were boasting soon enough but doubt it — definitely not a midget stirring when you came over to my table. Islington to Putney is only a tube ride, easy to live at yours or mine if we’re lovers on departure day, makes sorting us out here far more important.” She stood up. “Okay, time to walk me back to my room and hit a homerun.”

“You don’t waste time,” I said and laughed. “Hearings are over in a flash if the corporate law involves any advocacy.”

“Very rarely,” Lisa confirmed. “Mostly disposals and takeovers, I tell the other side my sefaköy escort bottom line at the outset, always higher than instructed and I expect, avoid all the haggling. Clients are delighted by better deals than they instructed, cash or goodies rewards, and I’ve gained a ‘Rather have her for me than against’ reputation, not bad given a recent newcomer as a qualified solicitor and my age. I use hard nose no pussyfooting and sex appeal with male adversaries, who think I don’t know their nickname for me is ‘BVBW’ for ‘Bitch Virgin Black Witch’ — tough cookie, rebuff advances, hair colour and cast spells to get terms they sure didn’t intend agreeing.” She winked impishly. “Cast a spell on you; put my pussy on your menu tonight.”

Lisa’s directness and feistiness disappeared on our walk back to the hotel; she held my hand and chatted amiably, asked me about myself, told me about herself and gave me an insight into what made her tick.

“Come in,” Lisa snapped when I remained in the corridor. “Our room, remember?”

I walked in, closed the door and muttered, “All so sudden.”

Lisa sighed loudly. “Really thinking ‘Does she know what she’s doing?’ Yes! Lawyer, compos mentis, not tipsy let alone pissed, no chance you’d take advantage of the BVBW. You’re nervous as hell, maybe this’ll help.” She reached behind her neck, undid the bows of her top and slid it down to her waist. “Pair of pale gold 36Cs complete with rock hard nipples for your delectation, not surprised by twin bullets, I feel very horny.” Shorts unzipped, a swift swipe of her hand and shorts and top fell to her ankles. “Miniscule see-through thong, bare bum,” she turned round and back turned slowly. Bows on her hips untied, she whipped away her thong and threw it on the bed. “This is me, all I am outwardly, what you see is what you get, do you like it?”

“Strewth, you’re naked,” I gasped.

“Observant and evasive,” Lisa barked. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Of course I do,” I retorted. “Very beautiful head to foot, stunning figure, fantastic boobs, firm, supple, perfect mounds, wide browny areolas and prominent nipples, just the way I like them, absolutely gorgeous, no pubes, cute pussy cleft, curvaceous hips, pert round bum, slender and very long legs, a golden Venus. Rear view emphasises your figure, straight lines tapering inward from armpits to slim waist, curling outward over your hips and cute little bum and legs that go on forever. You’d make a fortune as a model.”

Lisa giggled. “Wank mag pic one for guys to ogle while they bash the bishop at the mo. Come out your shell more, that’s good. Obviously like my bod, didn’t expect a detailed reply. It’s your turn to get naked. Shower before sex — fresh and clean, break the ice soaping each other, who knows where it’ll lead? I believe you’ve only had sex with your ex, am on the pill, won’t get preggers, hate condoms and you won’t need them unless you don’t believe I’ve only had sex with my ex or think I’ll use you as a sperm donor to put me up the duff. Period-wise, came off two days ago, won’t ovulate for around twelve and come on again until I’m in the UK.”

I undressed nervously, somewhat clumsily and felt I was dreaming. Underpants gone, trying to hide my raging hard-on was pointless.

“Mmm,” Lisa murmured softly and licked her lips suggestively. “Didn’t boast about length, great girth, circumcised just as I like, gorgeous swollen purply bell-end, deliciously long and fat, can’t wait to feel him hard, hot and throbbing in my throat, pussy and bum, he’ll make Lisa a very happy bunny, sure as hell don’t want him sheathed in a Frenchie. Oh, I swallow in blowjobs, love the taste of cum and get a buzz knowing it’s in my tummy.”

“Direct as usual, glad you approve, thanks for your compliments. I feel a prat standing here with a stiffy but am very glad to hear you can’t wait for some oral. I love the taste of pussy and get a buzz knowing I’ve swallowed all the juices.”

Lisa shook her head. “Really come out your shell. Silly to feel a prat, not the type to get a stiffy on sight of a naked female bod, I’d be very disappointed if first sight of mine hadn’t prompted a hard-on, shows you sexually desire me and we’ve no future if you didn’t. You’ll be used to seeing my naked bod in a couple of days, no instant stiffy on sight of it. Glad you enjoy oral. I adore it and you can eat pussy to your heart’s content.” She walked over and took my hand. “Shower, soap and explore each other’s bod.”

As soon as we stepped in the shower, Lisa reached down to tuck my throbbing pole between her legs, closed them tight, threw her arms round my neck, pressed her body into mine and kissed me. It began as a soft peck on the lips and rapidly progressed to harder contact, her tongue easing into my mouth, exploring it gently and building up to frenzied exploration. Her breathing deepened, her hips circled rhythmically, sliding my steeled tool between her very wet pussy lips, juices not shower water. She suddenly stood on tiptoes, wriggled briefly, my swollen bell-end found the entrance silivri escort to its awaiting sheath, she dropped back onto her feet and I felt my rod slide into its warm, wet, tight sheath as easily as a knife through warm butter. Once there, she whispered, “Don’t come, blowjob first,” her hips circled slowly and I felt her virginally tight, stretched and filled to capacity, pussy tighten and relax its muscles, gripping and releasing my throbbing pole. She broke the kiss, pulled away and growled “Loosen up, damn it! I can tell you’re a good kisser and wanted to kiss properly, so do it. I united our bodies, put your cock in my pussy, as a man and especially a cop you know I’d be guilty of rape not you, I did it because I want it inside me and provided you do too, relax, give and make love.” Anger left her voice. “This won’t work until you twig I signalled no barriers and give vent to fancying, lusting, liking or whatever you feel for me, Greg.”

Lecture over, Lisa withdrew my rod from its temporary home and soaped my chest, working slowly down to my frustrated, pulsating protuberance, caressed it gently with sudsy hands, knelt and soaped down to my feet. Suds rinsed off, she kissed the tip of my rock-hard cock and around its bell-end softly, wrapped her lips around it and eased it and its throbbing shaft back into her throat, licking and tasting each new intake. I reached down and ran my fingers through her hair. Her tongue gradually accelerated from snail’s to cheetah’s pace, licking, tasting and exploring my stiff member sliding between her lips, building up to withdrawing all but the bell-end before plunging it full length into the depths, lips pressed into my pubes. A lot to swallow, I marvelled at her fucking her mouth and throat with it so hard and fast but she made it seem easy. It drove me crazy, she felt my first jerk, pumping my cock into her mouth and her tongue slowed to snail’s pace to stop me coming and, when she felt it was safe to accelerate, she gradually built back up to cheetah’s speed. I lost count of the teases before no slowing, more speed and frenzy, Lisa grabbed my bum, slid a finger into it and her lips pressed hard into my pubes as the first high-pressure jet of hot, milky, cum shot into her throat. She pulled back, pushed hard into my pubes again for the second jet and pulled back and pushed hard until my load was spent.

“Mmm,” wafted up from my groins and through the dying moments of my now less than steeled rod’s jerks. Lisa licked and sucked as she slowly withdrew my cock. “Mmm,” she murmured again. “Yummy cock, yummier blasts of delicious cum, all in my tummy now.” She looked up at me, smiled, reached for my cock, held it, gave it a close visual examination and kissed it. “I’m very glad I met you, you’re absolutely gorgeous. I adored having you in my mouth, will adore having you up my pussy again for a proper fuck and will adore having you up my bum.” She looked up at me again. “Quickie in my book and not my full repertoire, no comparisons with your ex, just rating of blowjob skills out of ten, please.”

I grinned. “Fifty. Marvelled you swallowed all my shaft and what you did with it was fantastic. A fabulous blowjob, best ever, you’re an expert.”

Lisa winked impishly, smiled, stood up, threw her arms round my neck and buried her tongue in my mouth. “Mmm, that was s-o-h good,” she breathed excitedly.

I grinned like a Cheshire cat when I broke our kiss. “Not good, it was the best, Lisa.”

Lisa giggled. “Shower broke the ice and caused a major thaw, you’ve finally relaxed.”

“I guess,” I mumbled. “Time I soaped you and enjoyed my pre-dinner hors d’œuvres, an ample tasting of your cute and deliciously tempting pussy.”

“Not compulsory but it’d be hugely appreciated and so would a tad of clit-fingering and finger-fucking.”

My sudsy hands lingered on Lisa’s breasts, caressed and explored her delicious, perfect, mounds and delighted in their firmness and suppleness while my fingers explored her hard nipples. Suds gone, I kissed each in turn, drawing them between my lips and sucking them as my tongue circled her delicious browny areolas. Soaping resumed, I inched my hands down to her navel, let the suds wash off and kissed and tongued her navel as I sat down. I reached up to soap her pussy, caressed its lips, eased my soapy finger back and forth between them and waited for the suds to rinse away.

Soap gone, I softly kissed the first hint of pussy cleavage below her navel, kissed lower, parted the cleavage with my tongue and found her awaiting, swollen, clit. While my tongue licked, sucked and tasted her clit and caressed it with ever changing direction, pace and pressure, I slid my middle finger into her warm, wet, pussy and eased it slowly in and out, a gentle fuck. Lisa pushed down on my finger and whispered, “More fingers, please.” I added a second, third and finally my little finger. “Mmm,” Lisa murmured sexily. Her hips circled faster, rose and fell, pumping my fingers up and down her tight, slippery, pussy, her clit swelled more and her delicious juices flowed freely. I backed off to stop her coming, sensed she wasn’t in the mood for teases and launched into my final crescendo, tongue and fingers driving her clit and pussy crazy. Her hips bucked and pressed down forcing my fingers deep into the tightness, almost a fist fuck. “Oh, yes, oh, oh, oh!” Lisa yelled.

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