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Call me Cake. My real name isn’t important. I’m thirty-six, about five-four, I have long black hair, dark eyes, and I weigh about a hundred and four pounds. I’ve been told that my smile is infectious and that I make people happy just by being around them-everyone except my poor husband. He hasn’t been getting much attention from me lately.
I guess I have a pretty good body, but I wish I had bigger boobs, because if I did I’d feel a little less perky and a little sexier. My husband is always pestering me to wear miniskirts because, according to him, I have great legs and a tight butt. I suppose, compared to most of the women I know, I do have great legs and my butt hasn’t started to sag yet, but it takes a lot of running and a lot of tennis to keep that part of my body in shape.
Anyway, a week or so ago some of my girlfriends and I started playing tennis at three in the afternoon in the brutal Louisiana sun. I wore one of my favorite outfits: a short red tennis skirt, big red tennis panties, a sports bra, and a tight top that matched the skirt. I also wore cute little socks that had fluffy tennis balls dangling from the cuffs.
Anyway, after Becky, Tatiana, Samantha and I finished three sets, we sat around talking about nothing in particular, and we discovered that everyone’s husband was out of town on business. Becky suggested that we all go out for a drink.
“I’m not really dressed for it,” I said. I hate going somewhere with sweat clinging to me, and I especially hate sitting around in sweaty underwear. All I had with me was my normal “drive home after tennis” outfit, which was a change of underwear and one of my husband’s old tank-top tee shirts. It was so big on me that it almost reached my knees, and I never thought that I’d be caught dead in public in it.
“Oh, come on, Cake,” Sam whined.
“I won’t go if you don’t go,” Tatiana said.
“It’s a majority vote,” Becky laughed.
“All right,” I sighed. “Give me a minute.” I went into the ladies’ room, changed my big red panties for a pair of small white panties, pulled off my top, pulled off my sweaty sports bra, put on Charlie’s tee shirt, and debated whether I should stuff it into my skirt. I decided that it looked stupid hanging over my skirt, and I thought that maybe I could take my skirt off and wear the tee shirt like a dress, but that was out of the question. Stuffing it in my skirt created a big bulge, so I decided to stuff it part of the way into my skirt and let the rest blouse up. That made it even looser on me than it had been before, which actually made it feel more comfortable. I looked in the mirror to make sure that my nipples didn’t show through the fabric and they didn’t so I felt okay. When I walked out of the locker room, Becky whistled.
“Sex-eeee,” she laughed.
“Shut up,” I snorted.
We all took separate cars to a waterfront bar just in case any of us wanted to leave early. It was Monday, so the place wasn’t too crowded, and we managed to get a nice table outside on the deck, not far from the bar and not far from the water.
The evening was warm and pleasant as we sat and drank fancy drinks, ate bad food, laughed, and had a good time. We cursed a lot, making Tatiana blush, and got generally loud. Becky kept her elbows on the table, squeezed her arms against the sides of her body and pushed her boobs up and almost out of her top. After about an hour or so, I was aware of a constant parade of men-sometimes the same men-walking past me in one direction and then past me again in the other direction. It was then that I realized that, although my nipples didn’t show through the fabric of my husband’s tee shirt, the armpit holes hung down so far that anyone looking would have a perfect view of my boobs through the sides of it.
Now, you’d think that one of my friends would have said something, but maybe they were embarrassed, or maybe they thought I wore the shirt on purpose, or maybe they just didn’t notice. You might also think that I would have been mortified, that I might have gotten up and excused myself and left, or that I might have gone to the bar and bought another tee shirt to wear.
No, instead I sat at the table, ordered another drink, and felt my nipples getting hard, so hard that they hurt. Mu juices started to soak my panties while guys continued to walk past me to stare at my tits. I was getting turned on, really turned on, so I did nothing to hide them. In fact, I maneuvered the shirt a bit so that one of my boobs was almost fully exposed.
The longer I sat there, the harder my nipples got and the hornier I got. Finally, when my drink came, I excused myself and practically ran to the ladies room. I locked myself into a stall, stuffed my hand down inside my panties and slid fingers into my pussy.
God, I was so wet. My panties were drenched and the sides of my thighs were slick. I let my fingers linger for a while on my clit, closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation. My heart raced so fast that it seemed like it was in my mouth halkalı escort trying to get out. I knew that if I stayed in the bathroom much longer, the girls would come looking for me, so I forced myself to stop touching myself, took a deep breath, and went back to the table.
“We thought you had fallen in,” Becky said.
“I’m feeling a little light headed,” I said. “After this, I think I should go.”
“Yes, me too,” Tatiana said. Sam and Becky shrugged, gulped down their drinks and got up to leave.
On the way out, I told the girls that I had to use the bathroom again. We all kissed each other on the cheek, and then I locked myself into a stall, put my fingers in my pussy again and waited a few minutes. When I was sure that the girls were all gone, I took another deep breath, walked out to the bar, eased onto a barstool, pulled my skirt up as high as I reasonably could, crossed my legs, and waited to see what would happen next.
I told myself that all I wanted to do was flirt a bit and feel good about myself. Men continued to parade past me, mostly older guys who I think were intimidated by me-not one of them even attempted to talk to me. It was only about eight in the evening, and the younger crowd probably hadn’t arrived, but I was tired from the tennis and the alcohol, and just about to give up and leave. I reached for my glass when a pair of sunglasses slid onto the bar in front of me as a guy slid onto the stool next to me.
He was young, very young. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had some sort of fake ID and he wasn’t even twenty-one. But he was sexy as hell. His long dark hair hung to his shoulders, he had a deep tan, blue eyes, a wonderful smile, and lots of muscles. He wore cutoff jeans and flip-flops, and his black sleeveless tee shirt accentuated his biceps. His smirk showed that he was very sure of himself.
“Hi,” he said. “I’m Rick, and you’re incredibly sexy.”
Hmmmm. I could have said the same to him I guess, but I couldn’t seem to find the right words. I only know what I felt-a throbbing between my legs.
“You’re taking a lot for granted,” I murmured.
“What?” he said. “That I’m Rick, or that you’re sexy?”
“That I’m interested.”
“I’m not assuming that you’re interested,” he said. “But, yes, I am taking it for granted that you’re sexy.”
I laughed-I tittered like I was a little girl. Then I uncrossed and crossed my legs as slowly as I possibly could, making sure that Rick got a perfect view of my undies.
“Well,” I said, batting my eyelids, “thank you. I’m Cake.”
“Cake? That’s an odd name.”
“It’s short for something. Let’s just say it means I’m delicious. If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?”
“I’m twenty six,” he said. “How old are you?”
Twenty six my ass. “How old do you think?”
“Same age as me?”
“Good guess,” I said. If he only knew the truth! “I’m a couple of years older than you. Do you always hit on older women?” I uncrossed and crossed my legs, letting my ankle rest on top of my knee. By now my tennis skirt was covering only a few inches of my thighs, and my undies were on permanent display. They were so wet that they might have been transparent, and I was so fucking horny.
Rick couldn’t have been more obvious as he stared at my crotch. His cockiness disappeared and was replaced by palpable nervousness, and I could actually see a vein pulsing in his neck. His voice seemed to tremble as he mumbled, “I’ll answer that after I get us another drink. What do you want?”
My mind raced-I wanted something with a cherry because a cherry is much sexier than an olive, and I needed a prop, a sexy prop. I had no idea what a Manhattan was made out of, but I was pretty sure it had a cherry.
“I’ll have a Manhattan, thanks,” I said.
Rick frantically tried to wave down the bartender. “Two Manhattans,” he shouted.
“Do you like Manhattans?” I asked.
“Hell if I know,” he said. “If you’re having one, then I’m having one.”
Oh, yeah. I was in control of this situation.
I glanced down at Rick’s shorts. The poor guy’s cock was already hard and was growing down one of his pants legs. I closed my eyes and tried not to stare, but at the same time I tried to imagine what it would look like if I unzipped his shorts and took it out.
Rick waited until our drinks showed up before he tried to say another word. He took a big gulp from his glass, cleared his throat, and started to utter something. As soon as he did, I turned to the bar to pick up my glass, knowing that he would be able to get a perfect view of my boobs through the side of my tee shirt.
And my nipples, if it was possible, got harder.
I lifted the cherry out of my drink and closed my teeth around the stem. Then I closed my lips and sucked the cherry into my mouth. “Mmmm. I liked that.”
A bead of sweat ran down Rick’s cheek.
I laid my hand on his leg and asked, “You taksim escort want yours?”
“Your cherry,” I said. “Do you want your cherry?”
God, I was having fun with this. I was also beginning to feel the bar spinning around my head.
Rick’s leg started to jiggle and he started to stammer. “I, uh…”
I squeezed his knee and smiled.
“Listen – thank you for the drink, but I have to go now,” I said. I reached over and took the cherry out of Rick’s drink and snapped it off the stem.
Then I downed my Manhattan in one gulp and tried to stand up. It was then that I knew my legs weren’t going to carry me.
“Whoa,” I said. “I’m a little shaky.” I fell slightly forward with my legs spread and, as luck would have it, my crotch straddled his left knee.
“Come on,” Rick said, “I’ll walk you to your car.” He threw a twenty-dollar bill on the bar, held me under my arms, lifted me up, and I just started giggling. After he made sure I was steady, he started walking. I grabbed his arm, pressed my boobs into it and followed, not knowing and not caring where we were going.
We got about two rows into the parking lot when he pushed me up against the side of a van. He pulled my tee shirt out of my skirt, shoved his hands under it, and started squeezing my tits. His hands were calloused and rough, and when he pinched my nipples, the pleasure was incredibly intense. He bent down and took one entire breast into his mouth, ran his tongue around my nipple, and then slithered to the other breast. My mind screamed “no” but my body screamed “yes.” I lowered my hand to his crotch and tried to squeeze his hard-on, but I was weaker than a baby.
He pulled back a little, fondled me with one of his hands, and stared into my eyes like he was daring me to stop him. When I stared back and licked my lips, he slid his other hand down my over my stomach into my skirt, over my pubic area, and between my legs.
“Rick…” I breathed. I guess the fact that I pulled him to me and drove my tongue as far into his mouth as I could gave him the idea that I wasn’t going to stop him.
I shifted my weight, separated my legs, and hooked one behind his knee. I pressed my ass against the van, pushed against his hand, and felt his fingers making circles on my clit until he shoved two or three fingers inside of me. I pushed against him and he pushed harder and I pushed harder and then he said, “Let’s get out of here.”
“No!” I gasped. “Just keep doing what you’re doing!”
Rick moved his fingers faster and I moved my hips to match him. I felt myself coming in less than fifteen seconds. I clenched my teeth and moaned, “Oh, God, Oh God, Oh God!”
I put the side of my face on his chest and pushed down on his hand just to feel his fingers some more. His heart was pounding against his chest and I swear that I could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat from the fingers inside me. It was my first orgasm in two years and it happened because some guy fingered me, and it felt fantastic.
Rick held me until my orgasm passed, and then he let me slowly slide down him until I could stand up by myself.
“Christ, your snatch was the wettest I’ve ever felt,” he groaned.
I laced my arms around his neck and waited until I could catch my breath, and then I pressed up against him and kissed him on the neck and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“For coming so soon,” I said. “Let me make it up to you.”
I slid down to my knees and unzipped his pants. I was shaking-violently shaking-as I took out his prick and examined it. It was thick, almost as thick as Charlie’s, and in the dim light it looked beautiful. I licked the underside of it, tasted the salt from his sweat, and felt him shudder. I ran my hands up his ass cheeks, pulled him toward me, and opened my mouth. Not caring if anyone saw me or not, I was going to take my time and enjoy sucking him off. I slid his cock into my mouth and took it in as far as I could, squeezing his butt cheeks and moving up and down, slowly at first and then faster and faster. I was hoping that Rick could hold off, but I guess he was so excited that I only sucked him for about twenty seconds before he came. When he did, I almost choked. You see, I haven’t let Charlie come in my mouth for months and I forgot what it was like. Besides, when Charlie came, it wasn’t like Rick. Rick exploded in my mouth, so much so that I almost had to stop and pull away. But I wasn’t about to let some guy’s jism fall on my tennis skirt, not a skirt that cost forty-nine dollars, so I winced and swallowed every drop he gave me.
I kept moving my mouth up and down on him until he started to get softer, and then I was sure he was done. I put my hands on his hips, pulled myself up and tried to stand on legs that felt like wet noodles.
“Wow,” I gasped.
“Yeah,” Rick said. “Wow.” His eyes were heavy lidded and sated, but his smile was feral and rapacious.
“Well, now what?” I mumbled.
That şişli escort was supposed to be a question meant only for me. I was thinking, okay you just sat in a bar, let guys stare at your tits and your pussy, and sucked someone off. How do you top that?
But I said it out loud and Rick provided the answer.
“Now we go fuck,” he said with a sexy smirk.
Okay, that was a bit rough, but what did I expect him to say? Let’s go make passionate love? A remaining shred of common sense told me that I should just leave, so I said, “I can’t.”
“Why not?” Rick asked.
I was going to say “I’m married” but it was a little late for that, so instead I said the first reasonably sensible thing that came to mind even though it was a lie. “I …I’m not on birth control…”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I have protection.”
Oh, God. I knew I shouldn’t. Giving a guy a blowjob was one thing and fucking a guy was quite another. How they were different, I didn’t know, but I decided they were.
“Where?” I asked. I wasn’t about to take Rick home, and I wasn’t about to go to his place, so I was basically asking, “What hotel do you want to go to?” I should have known that Rick wasn’t a hotel kind of guy.
“In my truck,” he said.
“Are you crazy?” I asked. Was he suggesting that we lie in the back of his truck? I was horrified and my face probably showed it.
“No, no, no,” he said. “You don’t understand. The front seats are bucket seats. They push way back and it would be just like we were sitting on a couch. It’ll work, you’ll see. Jesus, you’re the sexiest woman I’ve met in ages and I’ll make you come again, I can promise you that.”
My mind screamed, “Don’t do this!” My mind told me to think of Charlie and that I might be walking into a dangerous situation, but I wanted this young guy’s cock inside of me and my desire overcame my sensibility. I took his hand in mine and said, “Show me.”
Rick led me through the parking lot toward a dimly lit area in the back where a big red Ford F-150 sat pretty much all by itself. It was one of those trucks that sat up way high, about three feet off the ground, and it was covered with mud.
I guess Rick saw my look. “Construction,” he said. “I have to go down unpaved roads every day. Normally it’s not this dirty.”
Like I cared.
As short as I am, I was almost eye level with the interior. I expected to see French fry containers strewn around and maybe some cigarette butts on the floors, but it was amazingly clean inside. There was even one of those evergreen shaped deodorizers hanging from the rearview mirror.
The truck was jacked up so high that it needed one of those shiny aluminum ledges to help you get into it. Rick opened the passenger door and stepped on the ledge, grabbed a handle on the door, and pulled himself up. He reached under the seat, lifted a bar, and slid the seat back.
“See? You’re gonna love this, baby. You’re so fucking wet I can’t wait.”
I felt like an absolute slut, but worse, now I was just a bit fearful. The danger I warned myself about a few seconds ago hit home-Rick didn’t seem so nice now, and I was afraid that if I tried to leave he might hurt me. We were so far from the bar that if I screamed no one would hear me, so I had to go through with it-at least that’s how I rationalized what I was about to do.
“Put it on,” I said. I didn’t have to say what “it” was.
Rick just about tore off his shorts. I watched as he reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a foil packet, retrieved the rubber out of it, and slid the rubber over his rock-hard member. How he managed to be so hard just after coming, I don’t know, but he was. Then he sat in the passenger seat and said, “Come on.”
I hesitated for a second, but then I reached under my tennis skirt and slid my panties down my legs and kicked them off. I put my left foot on the aluminum edge and my tennis skirt slid down to my hips. I stood there with my legs spread wide apart and my pussy totally exposed.
“Can you help me, Rick?” I asked.
Rick’s hand was shaking as he held it out to me. “No rush,” he gasped. “No rush at all.” I’d like to think that he actually looked at my face, but I knew better.
I grabbed his hand with my left hand and pulled myself up. I put my right hand behind my back, grabbed Rick’s cock, and swung my right leg over his body. I paused for a second to feel him pulsate, and then I lowered myself onto him one inch at a time.
God, he felt so good! At first I lifted myself slowly and lowered myself slowly, just to experience the sensation. Then I started to rock back and forth and he started to move up and down into me.
“Let’s get rid of this,” he said. He lifted my tee shirt up and over my head, threw it behind the seat, and started sucking on my nipples. If that wasn’t enough, he slid his fingers down the crack of my ass until he reached my slit. He got his fingers wet, spread my juices around, and squeezed my cheeks.
So there I was with my tennis skirt on and my tee shirt off wearing my cute socks with the dangly tennis balls, fucking a complete stranger in a truck in the parking lot of a bar. What a great setting for my first experience with someone other than Charlie.
Well, I thought, you’re here-make the most of it.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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