Keeneland

Asian

I met a German girl in England
Who was goin’ to school in France
And we danced the Mississippi at an Alpha Kappa dance
It wasn’t me
Woo, it wasn’t me
Yeah, you must’ve met some other body,
No, no child it wasn’t me –

George Thorogood

*

For anyone familiar with the social Mecca that a quaint thoroughbred racetrack in Lexington, Kentucky named Keeneland becomes for three weeks each April and October, no explanation is necessary. For those unfortunate enough not to be familiar with the goings-on, no explanation is possible, though my story will try to enlighten you. Suffice it to say that if you are a fan of beautiful, tanned, fit, long-legged fillies both inside and outside of the paddock area, you would enjoy the scenery, equine and otherwise. Especially ‘otherwise’.

This is a long-overdue saga championing the virtues of the beauty of Bluegrass Country, the home of the most sensational women in the country. And there has to be at least one that wants to fuck me. Right?

Geez, let’s hope so. It will make for a much better story.

I pretended to be peering at the tote board perched high above the grandstand wall on the backside of the racetrack. Through the dark tint of my sunglasses, I figured that the true intended target of my vision, the tall blonde in the impossibly short white mini with the tanned and toned legs, would be camouflaged.

The mounting tent bulging through my suit trousers no doubt blew my cover, however. Either that, or I found the odds displayed on the tote board to be VERY exciting. I wiggled uncomfortably from side to side on my loafers, trying to harness the raging stallion that was snorting in my crotch, trying to burst through the proverbial starting gate.

My enthusiasm did not go unnoticed by the object of my desire, and I can’t say that this revelation disappointed me. She kept looking back at me, giggling conspiratorially with her friend, and making none too subtle glances in the general vicinity of my twitching member.

Her micro-miniskirt rose tauntingly higher up to her ass cheeks every time she shifted her weight, her almost silvery-blonde spiky mane of hair hung tantalizingly over her one eye, and, oh, the way that she nibbled and sucked seductively on the tip of her celery stalk that floated in her Bloody Mary. I must confess that I didn’t wake up that particular morning pondering what if must feel like to be a stalk of celery. Until now. I had developed a serious case of ‘stalk envy’.

As the comedian Dom Irrera’s skit goes, men measure all distances from the proximity of the object to their own testicles, it’s an absolute and accurate barometer. As in, “Didja see that lightning bolt over the hill? No more than a half-mile from my cajones. That was close. And, didja hear about that volcano erupting in Iceland? No more than fourteen thousand miles from my cajones.”

“That was close.”

Well, this was close. Her eyes bore no more than one millimeter from my cajones. In a setting full of thousands of gorgeous women displaying their own impressive forms, for some reason this woman picked me out of the crowd as her bet of the day. So, seeing as how I was in the south, I would be something less than a gentleman if I did not approach this woman and her lovely, petite companion, ably playing the role of ‘wingwoman’.

As I approached from behind, my own eyes still riveted on that taut ass and unending legs, her friend nudged her much taller buddy in anticipatory warning, and I was surprised to hear their voices in a language that was most certainly anything BUT a southern drawl.

“Sssh, hier, kommt er!”

I stopped dead in my tracks. German? I wasn’t expecting German. In Lexington, Kentucky?

I can occasionally perform a fairly passable facsimile of Kentucky dialect, you can usually make-do by slowing down your speech interminably, squinting your eyes as if you were contemplating a nap, and filling your cheeks with a few walnuts or marbles, but German?

Fortunately, the smaller, slightly older woman quickly alleviated my anxiety and transformed magically into a comfortable and inviting singsong drawl, like sweet molasses oozing from the jar. “Hi, I’m Elle, and this is my sister, Anna.”

Ah, palindrome sisters, eh? I immediately deduced that their parents may have been dyslexic and wondered for just a split second if they had a brother named Otto, or other sisters named Lil or Eve. But these thoughts passed instantaneously as the two German sisters almost curtsied in introduction. Anna smiled down at me, since her high-heeled Roman sandles that wrapped around to mid-calf had the dual effect of making her well over six feet tall. Her bright and sexy smile caused my own horizontal height to reach its own steel apex of seven inches.

I extended both of my palms and shook the two womens’ hands as one, lowering my sunglasses to the bridge of my nose so that I could peer into Anna’s cat-like green eyes. ‘I’m John,” I said izmir escort bayan to Anna, as suave as a man can be while trying not to drool.

I then turned to Elle, and smiled at the smaller woman, taking mental inventory of the wedding ring on Elle’s finger, yet seeing no such jewel on Anna’s hands. “And I have a crush on your sister, Elle.”

Elle giggled delightedly and relayed this message to Anna in what was obviously their native tongue. As I listened and saw Anna blush, I daydreamed that my own native tongue would soon be buried directly between Anna’s long legs. Translation would not be necessary for my particular tongue-twister, I mused.

They bantered back and forth for a while as I still held onto Anna’s hand, rubbing the soft flesh of her palm between my fingers, hungry for any part of her flesh that I could touch. I fantasized about taking those same two fingers that now caressed her palm and imagined them tweaking her nipples, flicking them over her clit, easing them gently into the crevice of her anus. My touch seemed to serve to excite Anna as she imperceptibly eased her pelvis closer to my own waist so that we nearly touched at the hips now, all the while chattering with her sister, until she turned and looked right at me.

“Ich bin sehr hornig. Er ist hubsch, ich wurde ihn, ja bumsen.”

That sounded good to me. That had to be something good, right, Elle? I turned to Anna’s sister for the translation, raising my eyebrows at her in anticipation. Elle’s reply to my unspoken inquiry, if she were on Family Feud, would have made Richard Dawson proud as the ‘Number One’ answer.

“My sister is very horny, and wants to fuck you, John.”

In the next five minutes, while Anna grinded her hips into my waist and nibbled on ear, Elle played the roles of matchmaker, madame, and protective big sister. She gave me a brief historical overview that she and Anna were originally from Baden-Baden, Germany, and that Elle had lived over here for close to two decades after marrying an American Army officer, who was sitting in his clubhouse box watching the races.

Elle continued her story as Anna’s long, hot, wet tongue snaked onto my neck. This was only Anna’s second visit to the States in those twenty years, and this trip was urged by Elle after Anna had recently been separated from her husband in Germany. Anna had confided in her sister that she had not had sex in well over a year, and Elle thought it was her sibling duty to assure that Anna did not depart from the States without a good, sound shagging, in Elle’s words, and I was mutually agreed upon by the sisters as a capable candidate.

Elle gathered my personal information, including my cell phone number, hotel info, and took possession of my drivers’ license, which she promised to return to me after delivering her sister back, unharmed yet thoroughly and properly fucked, at eight p.m. tonight at DeSha’s, a popular restaurant in the heart of town.

To summarize, I had her sister’s consent and blessing to spend the next five hours fucking a beautiful and horny six-foot blonde who didn’t speak a syllable of English and would be leaving the country in forty-eight hours.

Best yet, before we said our goodbyes, Elle snuggled up to me, gave me a peck on the cheek, and whispered in my ear confidentially, “And a little secret. She loves to be fucked in the ass. If she says, ‘bumsen sie meinen Esel’, you’ll know what to do, I trust.”

“Have fun.”

Now THAT’S a cool big sister. It was time for that celery stalk to now envy me.

Anna and I left the track grounds and headed toward the parking lot, which at Keeneland, is a vast rolling hillside peppered with centuries-old oak trees. The looks from the male patrons as we departed told me plainly that celery wasn’t the only entity with envy.

Anna’s full lips surrounded mine about every dozen steps, and my hands worked on the four thin strips of fabric held together by buttons, and by the time we reached my rental car, I had succeeded in unbuttoning three of the straps so that Anna’s right tit was now virtually falling our of her blouse. However, rather than resist my attempt at exposing her in public, Anna instead became palpably turned on. It seems that she was a bit of an exhibitionist.

I decided to find out just how much.

When we had finally reached my vehicle, our view to most of the rest of the parking lot, which by now was essentially devoid of people since the races were still in mid-day progress, was only partially obscured by a huge oak tree. I stroked the soft bare skin near Anna’s backbone as she continued to kiss me sensuously, the kiss of a woman who desperately craved a cock, and sooner rather than later.

I gently pushed her against the passenger side of the car, and with one hand lifted her tiny skirt almost to her navel, and with the other, deftly unsnapped the only remaining button on her blouse. Her surprisingly substantial tits cascaded out into the warm Spring air, escort izmir and she sighed deeply, a sound that I interpreted as a mixture of arousal and consent.

With her heels, she was alredy so much taller than me, and my face lowered easliy onto her soft, creamy tits and I began to suck one roughly into my mouth as she offered it up to me with her palm, her other hand grabbing the back of my head to urge my sucking, and she grunted orders in her native tongue as my lips attacked her firm tits eagerly.

“Dass es, saugen die groben TITS.”

Who knew tits is a universal noun?

She lifted my face to hers and glared at me lustfully and growled, while beginning to unzip my suit pants and free my cock, “Sie mogen meine Meisen, John?”

My answer to the question which I did not understand, but assumed was an inquiry of whether I liked her tits, was to open her car door, push her inside, and scurry around to the driver side and climb in, to continue our parking lot sexual skirmish. My cock had risen to the approximate size of a hefty bratwurst and we immediately ignored the discomfort of the divider between the seats and commenced to rid each other of our clothes.

Since she had a lot less articles of clothing, I won this round. Anna soon had her blouse bunched up against her skirt in a small pile at her waist, and for the first time I saw her small white thong covered in cute black polka dots, bunching up between a pair of distended and severely swollen labia lips, giving the appearance that her cunt was trying to swallow her thong whole.

I first grabbed the waistband of her thong and pushed the microscopic fabric deeper into her snatch, causing her to gasp in surprise and pleasure, and she wriggled her ass off of the car seat to next allow me to peel the thong down below her knees as she fumbled with my own zipper frantically before yanking out my cock from my briefs.

For the next several minutes, there were seemingly tongues and fingers everywhere as I first leaned far over the divider to begin to lick her silky slit. She had shaved the light blonde pubic hairs above her gash into the shape of a letter “V”, so that the bottom pointed directly over her pink clit, and there was a vortex of fluid that was beginning to spiral and seep from her tunnel into my lapping mouth.

Again, since I was left to only non-verbal interpretations due to the language barrier, I interpreted her creative pubic shaving design to say, “Insert various appendages HERE”.

And so I happliy complied, sucking on her swollen clit as I finger fucked her into a squirming, quivering, whimpering German sex doll. Anna’s legs spread widely and raised onto the dashboard, permitting full and unfettered access into her cunt, and I took her to the brink of orgasm.

But then I just as suddenly lifted my head, and took my two sopping fingers covered with her pussy nectars and shoved them into her mouth. She licked and gobbled up her own sweet taste enthusiastically, though she looked at me quizzically. I waved the hotel room card key at her and hopped back behind the wheel and fired up the engine.

“Not yet,” I implored, hoping she would understand, as she grabbed my wrist and sucked up her remaining juice from my finger tip, like a kitten with the last drop of milk. I wanted to make her cum in a more comfortable setting as I was already contorted into a front-seat fetal position, and more so, I was legitimately concerned that her muscular thighs would snap my neck between her legs if she came in the car.

Try to explain that one to your friendly insurance claim representative.

She reluctantly consented, but while I drove the car through the grassy knolls toward the exit on Versailles Road, she kneeled up sideways on her passenger seat, virtually stuck her round ass out the window, and proceeded to suck on my own exposed and throbbing cock with the focused intensity of a meter maid writing out a parking ticket, seemingly oblivious to the environment or surroundings.

As we waited at the traffic signal to make the left onto the highway, a car pulled up next to us, occupied by two open-mouthed college students who were greeted by the unexpected though very pleasurable sight of a round, tight yet plump, mini-skirt-clad ass bobbing up and down next to them as Anna blissfully continued her oral assault on my dick.

It took the kids about a nanosecond to figure out what was happening in the car next to them, and they immediately began a cacophony of hoots and hollers and war whistles and shaking, pumped fists of victory. No matter what the age or location, why is it that men universally celebrate with their brethren when they stumble upon one of their own being the recipient of a mobile blowjob?

Even though Anna’s head was buried in my lap, their sounds urged her on to even greater oral homage, and she grunted in ecstasy at the realization that she was being watched and encouraged. As the light changed to green, I rewarded our young voyeurs izmir escort and impromptu cheerleaders with a sight they won’t soon forget.

I reached over with my non-driving hand and pulled Anna’s asscheeks apart as widely as I could, providing the young horntoads with a unobscured view of Anna’s light brown, puckered, gaping anus. They honked their horns and whooped a rebel yell and their parting shout was, “What an ass!”

(Funny, I’ve heard that same phrase directed at me on numerous occasions, more than a few times. But it was never in reference to my cute backside. But I digress.)

I had to virtually pry Anna’s mouth from my cock, as not only did I not want to come yet myself (and boy, could she suck cock, I couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel and let her continue), but I also had to get my bearings so that I could navigate our way successfully back to the hotel. Anna briefly feigned pouting as I pulled her head up from my soon-to-explode member, but she entertained herself for the rest of the short ride to the Marriott Griffin Gate resort by reclining her seat back and diddling herself lazily while she pinched and tugged at her big, chestnut-hued nipples.

She remained in this position even as we pulled up to the valet stand near the hotel entrance, where another young college kid in a red vest nearly blew his load as Anna smiled up at him through the window, her long finger disappearing again and again into her saturated slit before she finally pulled up her blouse and lowered her skirt, placing her thong back snugly on her cunt.

The kid looked wide-eyed at Anna’s ass and legs as I flipped him the keys. She winked at him and licked her lips as she grabbed onto my arm and licked my neck. I shrugged at the mesmerized valet. “I had a good day today at Keeneland.”

From over my shoulder, I heard him call out before the sliding doors to the lobby closed behind us, my hands sliding once more to Anna’s skirt, lifting her perfectly plump ass into view once more, as a tip of sorts, better than any twenty-dollar bill.

“I’ll say. I have a feeling the six-nine exacta is going to come in. Bet it.”

I also heard one of the other valets, who were now gathering as a group to catch a view, say to his friend, “Hey, didn’t that hot older chick look just like that language professor at the University? What’s her name, Professor Hayden? Wow, she’s smokin’ hot!”

I didn’t think anything of it at the time, other than to think that there must be one fine piece-of-ass language professor at University of Kentucky if she looked even half as good as Anna.

Anyway, the concierge desk in the lobby was hosted by a matronly woman who was eighty if she was a day, and I thought her dentures were going to fall out as she gaped slack-jawed at Anna’s attire as we strolled unhurriedly to the elevators. I thought for a second it might be fun to ask the woman is she had a German-to-English dictionary handy, or if not, could she at least find a quick translation for ‘Aryan anal plundering’.

But I resisted the urge.

Anna again exposed her bare tit to me on the elevator ride to the eighth floor and cupped it in her manicured fingers, lowering her head to her chest and snaking that impossibly long tongue out of the corner of her full lips and seductively licked her own erect nipple. My cock was now the approximate size and texture of a ball peen hammer.

We at last mercifully reached the room and Anna pushed me inside and sank to her knees, pulling down my trousers with such vigor that the zipper was nearly ripped off of the seam. The look in her blazing eyes was almost unnerving, such was her animalistic carnality.

Even though I don’t speak a word of German, I’ve spent enough time in South Philadelphia to know the one-word Italian synonym for foreplay that translates loosely into “Suck my cock.” So, accordingly, I pointed to my crotch with both of my index fingers, and said the magic word.

“Yo.”

Anna understood intuitively, instinctively. She pushed my ass against the wall and proceeded with a balls-emptying expert technique that was rivaled in its ardor and zeal only by her world-class cocksucking ability.

Oraler Koitus, it’s called in German, I subsequently learned. Deep throating.

She had flair, aptitude, inventiveness, resourcefulness, and skill that bordered on Picasso-like genius for the oral arts. One talented hand caressed and flicked lightly over my engorged testicles while she surrounded and consumed my dick with an impeccable combination of expert sucks, licks, and swallows, all augmented by impassioned and filthy-sounding grunts and groans.

Her other hand coaxed the cum from deep within my swollen sacs, seemingly at her whim and will, rubbing the thick base of my pubic bone down at the bottom of the shaft, resulting in further increase of my length and girth, and I watched transfixed as my cock rubbed through the lining of her cheek as she prepared eagerly for the inevitable flood of semen release. It was the blowjobs of blowjobs, a masterpiece, capped off majestically with her perfectly timed verbal exhortation as she pulled my cock from her throat and insisted that I cum on her gorgeous face with this demand.

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