I had an encounter in a plaza parking lot that still makes my joint jump when I think about what happened.

I came out of a store on a Saturday at about five in the afternoon, and as I cut through the parked cars, I saw a very noticeable redhead standing near my van. She had on a short, light-green dress and hose that showed off her long, slender legs.

As I opened the rear doors to toss in a couple of packages, she approached me, asking if it was my van. She appeared to be nervous and upset, so my first thought was that she had hit the van when she tried to park her car. But without another word of introduction, she blurted out a story that put me in a cold sweat.

She said she had just left a wedding after arguing with her husband. He had confessed to having an affair with my wife, and had told his wife how well my wife treated him in bed, giving him the best blowjobs he had ever had. She went on to say that she had a temper to match her hair and that she wanted to get even with “those two S.O.B.s.” She said she was ready — right then and there — and that she could suck cock with a technique that would put the best of them to shame.

Her story almost held water — she was dressed as if she’d just come from a wedding reception, she was wearing a wedding ring, and was nervous and upset, besides being really pissed-off. The only catch was, I’m not married!

Not being one to argue over such a small detail, I said I had suspected my wife of cheating but didn’t know who the guy was. I asked her how she had found me. She said she had found out during the argument that I worked in the plaza and had a black-and-yellow Dodge van. She had come looking for me. Well, at least she wasn’t color-blind, but I did put myself between her and the van, covering up the “Ford” nameplate on the back door.

Letting on how mad I was, too, I complained that since the back of the van was full of tools, we couldn’t get even with “those two” right then and there as she wanted. She pointed to a Lincoln parked two rows over, and I followed like a puppy dog, enjoying the bounce of her ass under the green silk.

As she put the car in gear and peeled out of the parking lot, she began ranting and raving about her no-good husband. She didn’t give me a chance to say a word, so I just sat back and admired the view. With each gesture, her dress inched its way up those lovely long legs, and her breasts jiggled and swung loosely underneath. Within ten minutes we had pulled into a motel, and she was opening one of the rooms with her key. She had really come prepared.

As soon as she had locked the door behind her, she unzipped and slipped the dress from her shoulders and down past her hips and onto the floor. She had on a light-green bra and matching panties and garter belt. The bra pushed the tops of her breasts into two beautiful half-moon globes, and the panties were so brief that I could see soft, red cunt hairs sticking out on either side of her crotch. I stood there in a trance for a few seconds, drinking in the beauty of this and trying to figure out how her old man could be fucking around with someone’s wife when he had a queen like this at home. But I was soon out of my clothes and, as was obvious to both of us, ready for action. Apparently, so was she.

Kicking off her heels, she pulled me onto the bed, then knelt down between my legs. With both hands she took my cock and held it as if it were on display, seeming to study it for a minute. Then she reached in front of her and released her bra. Two beautiful pink-tipped melons swung free, and as she bent forward, I began to work my cock between them and over her protruding nipples. My cock had moistened, and she rubbed it along her neck, cradling the head against her cheek. Then peeling back the foreskin, she lowered her soft lips down and around the mushroom head, slowly working her mouth up and down. She let out a soft moan — trying to take more of my stiffened cock into her mouth. Palming one of my balls, she drove her mouth down over the length of my shaft, and I felt the tip of my cock reach the back of her throat.

Twice I pulled her head away because she had me going, and those soft, sucking lips felt so good that I was afraid I’d come too quickly. I wanted to take my time and savor this experience. Squeezing my shaft in her hand and running a wet tongue down its length, she gently took one ball into her mouth. I could feel her tongue move my ball from one side to the other. I found myself moaning now, as she applied pressure with her mouth and tongue. Then plunging her lips back around the shaft, she again started the pumping action, gradually increasing the length of each stroke. She feverishly pumped it deep into her hot, wet-breathed mouth. Feeling my balls stiffen, I thrust forward and let go. Again, she moaned and sucked harder and faster.

After she gave me her name and phone number, and a promise for the following Saturday, she calmly got dressed as if she were alone in her own bedroom.

That was the first and last time we ever met — her name and number turned out to be phonies. I sometimes wonder if her story was even true — maybe it was just a game that she got her kicks from. But if it was a true story and she ever does get pissed off at her old man again, I hope I’m in that same plaza parking lot.