Exercising My Banana At Copacabana

Enjoying the fruits of my labor!

I didn’t just sell ads for Action Magazine. I wrote (mostly fictitious) stories for our advertisers — pretending they were real so guys would read them and then go see the girl based on my experience (which again, was usually fake). Sound skeevy? Duh! It was my job. What can I say? Here’s one I dug up based on the title. The production staff back at the office got a laugh when the editor opened the file.

Queens, New York — just like I remembered it. I was out in Jackson Heights for the first time in years, lunching with a plus sizer I’d picked up in a Manhattan bar. Well, she was nice enough and everything. The food and drink were good — the conversation reasonable — but the date fell a little flat when she kissed me goodbye at the door and sent me walking in the warm springtime air — blue balls and all.

Drat! I specifically had jerked off that morning in anticipation of burying my shaft in her velvetiness. Oh, well. What to do? Better find a local oasis to take care of my needs.

I dropped into a bar under the elevated train on Roosevelt, ordered a happy hour beer, and after a few minutes, befriended a local to ask him the all-important question: Where can a horny guy find some feminine companionship around here? The answer? Copacabana was the nearest and best deal on the track.

“Thanks, bud,” I responded and split for the door as soon as I had the necessary information. Copa was just two blocks away.

First, I called, identified myself, and was then invited over to enjoy some quality relaxation time with either of the two girls in attendance.

Margaret was the woman for me. I liked her soft eyes and sweet smile — not to mention her dark complexion and svelte figure. Clearly, she was much more attractive than the girl I’d been trying to seduce earlier in the afternoon.

And I was raring to go once the bedroom door closed behind us. Ooh! Mirrors in the corner, and mirrors at the head of the bed. Not only would I be a participant — but a spectator too — if you know what I mean. Although Margaret was bountiful from head to toe, her cute little round butt was at least for me, her most outstanding physical feature.

“Me gusta tu culo,” I sweet talked her (I like your butt). Margaret smiled and dropped down on all fours to rock back and show me just how delicious her rear end truly was. I dove in clothes and all to commence palming and kissing all that tight roundness.

“Ay! Papito,” she sighed obviously enjoying the worship. I rolled her over and laid a big hug on her. I just wanted to embrace her she was so cute. Margaret appreciated the romance — for at least ten seconds — before she began fumbling with my pants to unleash Mr. Stiffy. And just moments later, I was naked from the waist down, standing at the bedside with my boner twitching its approval.

Margaret gazed upon my male dominance, wrapped her lithe fingers around me to stroke Hizzoner to utter and complete hardness, and then broke out a rubber, placed it on her lips, and unrolled the bad boy all the way down my shaft on the first stroke.

And it was heaven — her soft lips wrapped around my essence. If only my lunch date could see me now. She’d either dive right in — or never speak to me again. Anyway, who cared? I was getting my rod tended to by a woman much more attractive and no doubt, much more talented than that dopey bar girl I had attempted to seduce earlier that afternoon.

For a couple of minutes, I stood there at attention, watching Margaret slowly and methodically tend to every millimeter of my erection. And the mirror really made the event, too. Rather than look directly at the proceedings, I glanced over to pretend I was watching a movie of a dark studlette gobbling a caucasian beefcake.

And actually, the show was pretty awesome; I was self-impressed. Right in midstream, Margaret stopped to disrobe herself and again dropped down on all fours to impress me further with her now naked butt. I almost had a heart attack as I watched her spread wide and open up for the onslaught.

She looked back and curled her finger toward me indicating that I should fuck her from behind.

“Come on, papi. Damelo.” (Give it to me.) And give it to her I did, thumping her tight little pussy with my virile manhood. All the way in I pounded as I grabbed the small of Margaret’s back for leverage, unleashing a barrage of grunts and groans as I continued my primal pummeling.

Margaret looked back with a glint in her eye as if to say “Jesus, papi! I didn’t know you had it in you. Usually, guys come really quick as soon as they see me naked.”

Well, she wasn’t far from wrong because my tank was running out of gas quickly. That tight pussy gripped around my throbbing shaft, those slick vaginal walls seething around my thumpitude, and her right hand reaching underneath to fondle my balls was the end of the line for this stud muffin.

I inserted myself all the way in — just as far as I could — and blew a monster load deep inside the sex organ of my infatuation. Yes, I was way in the pussy and unleashing a geyser of thick gooey fluid. My body shook and sweat poured from my brow as I continued stroking until every drop had been milked from my reservoir.

Finally, we collapsed sideward and lay together like love spoons — with my cock still buried within — for several minutes, just hugging and fondling our way back to earth.

Too soon, a knock came at the door signaling that the curtain was about to come down on the whole erotic episode. Margaret and I cleaned each other up and then dressed together, hugging goodbye for a fleeting moment before I exited with a contented and satisfied smile on my face.

It had been a long time since I’d been out to Queens. I wasn’t sure when I’d be out next but there was one thing for sure: On my next visit, I’d definitely be looking for Margaret — not my plus size lunch date who missed her golden opportunity when she had it.