Warning! The following work of fiction contains sexual activities between consenting adults. You must be at least 18 years old to read it.
Gino's was open for lunch, but I was the early bird. Becky, she's the night owl, with big round eyes and always a half-hour late. A half-hour late for lunch, a half-hour late to the dentist, a half-hour late for church.
She scared us when she was late for her period last month, but we sighed and kissed and told ourselves, even so, would it be such a bad thing? Becky and Baby and Me? I kissed her bare belly and pressed my ear against her tummy, listening for what I don't know. Becky cried.
But it was a false alarm. You see, Becky always runs a little late. It turns out Becky's tears were wasted. No sense crying over one's true nature, I thought at the time. But I'm no dope; I kept my tongue tied.
I drove into Gino's parking lot with my windshield wipers swishing though the late spring rain. Inside, out of the weather, Gino's was dry and quiet, most tables sitting vacant. Wine red tablecloths, precisely placed silverware, big water glasses holding folded cloth napkins. A waitress stepped up to the reservation desk and cleared her throat. She was a pretty one, blonde and pink-lipped, with pearly blue eyes. A gold nameplate on the swell of her breast said "Margot," and I gave Margot a smile. Her fingers were ring-less, and she caught me peeking at her hands, and she quickly covered her left hand with the right, an embarrassed gesture, as if she were naked and hiding her privates.
I leaned against the reservation desk and gave Margot my biggest smile. "I'm sorry, Margot," I began, and Margot blushed. But Margot was a pistol, her face all warm and pink, but she did not look down. Her eyes stayed right on me, strong and steady. "I am early," I said. "Is it okay if I wait at a table?"
"How many in your party, sir?" Margot said, a trace of a southern accent, her voice all business. But her face gave her away. Margot was an open one, for sure. Margot's lush and blushy face, and her nervous hands.
"Two," I said, and I held up two fingers, like a child's bunny rabbit, and I wiggled Bunny's ears. Margot grinned and clucked her tongue.
She held two menus to her lovely bosom and led me along, and I watched her from behind, at the feminine swing of her curvy hips. Margot knew I was watching. A little performance for the appreciative audience.
Bucking for a big tip, Margot?
She sat me at a table in the back and I settled down like an old man in his favorite chair. Margot left the menus on the empty setting. "Can I get you something to drink while you wait?" she asked.
I ordered a glass of wine, and Margot smiled. I smiled back. Margot swung her hips back towards the kitchen.
Margot, Margot, Margot. Too bad I'm spoken for. Isn't it funny? The instant you decide to settle down, and all of a sudden, every woman you see is available. Available and maybe even willing. When I was out and about and looking for lovers, where was Margot then?
Instead, I had Becky. Not that Becky was so bad. In fact, Becky could be great, when Becky wanted to be. She had been a little moody lately - the baby scare had put her in a pensive frame of mind. Becky was at her best when Becky wasn't thinking. When she got up on her toes, threw back her shoulders, and bumped into the world with her chest out. When she laughed without a second thought, loud and robust. When she danced with that swinging motion of hers, hips and shoulders turning with the beat. When we were in bed naked and she got big open eyes, and she thrust her jaw out and pulled my dick. And when I rolled on top of her and her thighs strained apart, opening herself up so far you'd think she'd split herself in two.
I loved my foul-mouthed Becky, the one who sang along with songs on the radio, replacing every instance of the word "love" with the word "fuck" and laughing when the song still made awkward sense.
"Let's make fuck," Becky would say when Becky was horny.
That is the Becky I would love to have babies with.
But for the past two weeks, I had only known a Becky who sat on the couch in her bathrobe, sometimes in her apartment, sometimes at my house, reading women's magazines and casting accusatory glances.
Margot returned with a glass of white wine and set it in front of me. "Can I get you anything else?" Margot asked. I loved the tone of Margot's voice, low and feminine, spoken from the diaphragm. No more blushing, either. Margot had composed herself while she was gone. She rested a slender left hand on the crest of her pelvis.
Could she get me anything else!
"No, thank you," I said.
Margot smiled and left.
I sighed. I opened my paperback book and began to read.
I had only read a few sentences before I caught a glimpse in my peripheral vision, just over the top edge of my book. A leg, a feminine leg. I let my eyes drift upward, and took in a curvy calf all wrapped up in dark hose. And a lovely knee. And slender feet in shiny black pumps. One leg draped over the other, the top foot bouncing up and down to the rhythm of some silent song.
Women! They were everywhere I looked!
I tried to go back to my book, but didn't read two sentences before my mind formed an image of naked legs. I let my eyes rise again.
She sat two tables over, chin in palm. She wore a knee-length red skirt and a red jacket over a white blouse. She was slim, and tall for a woman. Her hair was brown and pinned up. I watched as she removed her glasses, folded them, unfolded them. She stroked the earpiece lightly across her upper lip. Her eyes unfocussed. Then she sat up straight and set her glasses on the table. She put her chin back in her palm and tapped the table with flaming red fingernails.
All the while her foot bounced up and down, up and down.
Then I saw her brown eyes turn my way, first a glance, and then she turned and looked right at me. For whatever reason, I didn't look away, I just stayed steady, and she squared her shoulders around. Her eyes narrowed for just a moment, the crinkles gathering in the corners, her lips pressing. But then her face softened, and her lips twitched. She uncrossed her legs, and I watched transfixed as she slowly re-crossed them. The agonizing rub of leg against leg. She smoothed her skirt back down. Her right knee, now on top, was just as lovely as the left. I looked her in the eye, her dark brown eyes, and she pursed her lips and made a quick kiss in the air.
I dropped my eyes like a schoolboy who didn't know the answer to the teacher's question. My face burned.
Oh, but did I have wild thoughts! The bachelor thing to do would be to meet her gaze, just like good old Margot had done with me. But then Margot could afford it. Margot wasn't meeting Becky for lunch in half an hour.
The woman stood up, and I almost fainted dead away.
But she was greeting someone, not standing up to talk to me. "Hi, dear," she said. A man in khaki slacks and a green golf shirt walked up. She gave him a big, all-body hug. Her hands moved up and down his broad back. She looked over his shoulder at me and winked.
They separated and sat, and I breathed a sigh. I settled back down to read my book.
But bits and pieces of their conversation kept wiggling their way into my ears. Just as I seemed to get back into my story, I'd catch a word or two.
"How's the wine?" he said. "I'm taking the rest of the afternoon off," she said. "I have to take the car in tomorrow. Can you pick me up?" he said. "We should fix him up with Millie don't you think?" she said.
I scanned the page of my book, looking for where I had left off. I couldn't seem to find my place.
The restaurant was suddenly as quiet as a deserted back alley.
"I am so fucking horny," she said.
And just then Becky bustled in. "I'm sorry I'm late!" Her purse thumped on the table, and she ran her hands back through her dark hair. "Traffic was a disaster. It's raining, you know. I am so sorry I'm late."
I stood and we kissed, just a peck on the lips, and we slumped down into our chairs. Becky was her usual pretty self, a little disheveled and a little out of breath. She wore a casual dress, a light, flowery thing with a bit of a neckline and the round of her shoulders bare. If Becky were her old self, Becky would be bra-less underneath. As it was, I had to wonder. Becky opened a menu.
Becky read the menu, and I spied on the other couple. They ate their salads and grinned at one another. Long gazes into each other's eyes. They seemed smitten.
When she picked a cherry tomato up off her plate, I remember thinking, what would Emily Post think of that? And when she licked it, I was sure Emily would have huffed! But when she pressed it against his mouth, against his pursed lips, I was glad for Ms. Post that she was already dead!
She pressed the tomato against his mouth, he formed an "O" with his lips, and she used her thumb to force it through. He closed his mouth down, and his eyes slitted and his lips strained to stop from smiling. He bit down, and a little drip of tomato spilled out.
"You're leaking," she said and she grabbed her napkin and went to his mouth with it. He held still while she licked the napkin's corner and dabbed. She used short, slow strokes across his lips.
He stopped smiling. She dabbed his lips for a long time, long after all the tomato juice was gone. And then she simply dropped the napkin, and her fingers went right back onto his mouth.
She used her thumb and fingertips on his lips, back and forth, up and down, tracing the upper lip. He sat there and stared into her eyes.
And then he nipped at her fingertip, lightly with white teeth, and they laughed. She pulled her hand away from his face, and they laughed again. They went back to their food.
"What are you looking at?" Becky breathed.
"Did you see them?"
"Of course I saw them! But why are you looking?"
The man took a slice of cucumber and held it up. The woman giggled, a girl's giggle, and he folded the slice over, held it to her mouth, and used his index finger to push it in.
He pushed the cucumber in, but he didn't take his finger back out. She sucked on his fingertip, her lips tight around it, holding it in her mouth. And then a quick open and close, and his entire finger was in, knuckle deep.
He drew his finger out slowly, pulling out from between her lips, and when it was almost completely out, she opened up and let him go. She laughed.
She looked over at Becky and me, and she laughed again.
The man twisted around so he could see where his partner was looking, just a quick glance. He leaned and whispered something in her ear. The woman listened and looked at us and smiled.
I glanced at Becky, and her teeth were set, staring wide-eyed at the show.
The couple leaned together and kissed. And then they kissed again. And again. And then a short, hard kiss, so hard I thought they'd bruise their lips. They looked at one another for a moment, then her hand grabbed the back of his head and pulled him back and they kissed again. They attacked each other with their mouths, and their bodies surged together. Her butt slid clear off her chair until she was almost in his lap. He gripped her hips. Her skirt rode up the backs of her legs.
When her stocking tops showed beneath the hem of her skirt, my penis stirred. When his hand slipped between her thighs, Becky gasped.
He hiked her skirt up past her hips, exposing the broad expanse of naked flank and a black garter strap.
"They should get a room," Becky whispered.
I was mildly miffed. I turned to say something to her, but as soon as I saw Becky's face, I stopped. Becky's lips were moist and parted. Her eyes were wide and bright and darted about, as if she couldn't decide what exactly to look at.
I looked back, and the woman was looking right at us, staring right at Becky and me, as she clung to the man's shoulders, while he nibbled on her slim neck, his hand over her breast. Her legs pulled apart, her skirt slipped right up to her waist.
And there she was. She wasn't wearing panties. Thick, dark hair between her legs, and dark fleshy lips.
She looked right at us, breathing hard, took the man's hand, and placed it over her sex. She held his hand there, her hand over his, and fingers and palms began to undulate. She looked at us and breathed deeply through her open mouth. He kissed her neck and she rocked her head back and moaned.
And then, right in the middle of it all, they pulled apart. She just stopped, sat back down in her chair, and he picked up his fork. They panted loud enough for us to hear. She tried to yank her skirt back down, but was not completely successful - I could still see her stocking tops.
For a moment, they picked at their salads. He put his free hand on top of the table, and she put hers on top of his. Her right hand on top of his left, her long, slender fingers stroking his. Gentle strokes up and down his fingers, to the knuckle, then up on the back of his hand.
He rolled his hand over and they grabbed hands. The heels of their palms rubbed together. Their thumbs wandered against each other. They ungrasped long enough to rub flat hand against flat hand. Fingers slipped between fingers, lingering into the gaps between.
They stopped eating again, and forks fell to plates. She reached across and grabbed right between his legs.
He shot to his feet, fumbling with his wallet, and threw three twenties on the table. His penis strained against his pants. She stood up after him, wobbling on her heels; she had to hold onto the table to catch her balance. She awkwardly pulled her dress down and rearranged her jacket.
They dashed away, his hand on the back of her neck; she grabbed his ass, low and nearly between his legs.
Becky and I sat in stunned silence.
"Wow," I said.
"That was something," Becky said.
My penis was stiff. I shifted, trying to get a more comfortable position.
"I have to go to the bathroom," Becky said.
She grabbed her purse and shuffled away. Leaving me alone.
I sat and wondered what to do. I was too excited. I loved that the woman stared right at us as she opened her legs. The image of their hands together on her pussy wouldn't leave my mind.
While Becky was gone, Margot returned. "Is everything okay?" Margot asked.
"Um, yes." I shifted in my chair, hoping to hide my erection.
"Did those folks leave already?"
"Yes, I think so."
"They didn't wait for their food."
I couldn't make my erection go away, and I hoped Margot wouldn't notice. "They looked like they were in a hurry."
"Is that your wife in the ladies room?" Margot asked.
"Becky? Well, she's not my wife."
"Thinking about it."
"She's pretty," and Margot smiled. "You're a lucky guy," she said.
Lucky guy? "What?"
"Wait and see," she said. I thought I saw her glance in my lap.
I blinked. Wait and see?
"Are you ready to order?"
"Um, no. I don't think so."
"No hurry, the place is dead today. Take your time."
And Becky returned striding with a purpose, her hair slicked back and in place, freshly lipsticked and smiling wide. She held her arms straight out like airplane wings, swinging her purse in one hand. "Do you want to dance?" she called out, loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear.
"I don't think they dance here," I said quietly.
"Don't be silly." She stood beside the table and dropped her purse in front of me. "Hey, look here." Becky opened her purse and tilted it towards me.
Her pantyhose and panties were stuffed in there!
"I'm feeling frisss-ky," Becky said. "And the frisky girl thinks we should dance."
She left her open purse on the table, grabbed my hand, and pulled me forward. I looked quickly around the restaurant. Margot at the front desk, and another couple in the front corner table. Otherwise, the place was empty.
We found a gap between the tables and Becky slipped into my arms. I put my hand on her back, and felt the heat of her. And then it finally hit me: Becky was naked under her dress! Naked!
Becky hummed a slow lilting tune, just off the top of her head, and trilled nonsense syllables.
"Do you think we'll be like that, when we've been together longer?" Becky said.
"I don't know." I picked up the rhythm of her tune, hummed along, and Becky leaned into me, rested her head on my shoulder, and I brushed my cheek through her soft hair.
But I could barely concentrate to keep humming along. The thought that Becky was naked under her dress was making me manic! No bra, no panties, no nothing! Just naked Becky. I reached down and cupped her buns through her dress.
She tilted her head up. "Don't get fresh, buster!"
"I want the world to know I love you."
Becky guffawed and pulled away, spun around, clear around once, the hem of her dress fluttering up, and she swung right back into me, bumping hard, knee to knee, hip to hip. "You don't fool anyone," she said. "You want the world to know you fuck me."
I had my old Becky back! I pressed my mouth close to her ear. I breathed, let her hear and feel my breath. "Admit it. You want the world to know you fuck me too."
I began to pull her dress up. "What do you think you're doing?" Becky said. She stepped up very close and slipped her crotch up onto my thigh. I held her tight around the waist. It felt like if I would let go, she'd tumble over backwards.
"I'm going to show these people over here your butt."
"You are, are you?"
In fact, the restaurant was empty behind her, but I pulled her dress up anyway. She arched hard against me, her head dropped back, her wide eyes flitted back and forth. I put my hands on Becky's bare bottom. She was so soft and so warm.
She giggled. "I think that's enough." And she pulled away and looked at the empty tables behind us. "Hey! Where is everybody!"
"Let's get out of here," I said.
"Next time you say you're going to show somebody my butt, you'd better show somebody my butt!"
She stepped away and grabbed the hem of her dress. She spun around and lifted her dress up high. I caught a momentary glance of her dark bushy pubes. As, I'm sure, did everyone in the restaurant.
Both of them. And Margot.
Becky dropped her dress and laughed. "Don't look!" she called out to the other patrons.
Becky pressed up close again and she put her hand on my penis. "Did you know your dick is hard?"
"I think I may just unzip you, right here," she whispered.
"If we don't end up in jail, you're going to be a very happy girl tonight."
"If you think I'm waiting until tonight, you have another think coming!"
"Then we'd better hurry up, don't you think?"
"Yes, I think we'd better," Becky said.
We gathered up our things. Margot was waiting for us at the reservation desk. "Sorry," I said, "we need to leave."
"Y'all are making the cook mad," Margot smiled. Margot talked faster than before, and her accent was more pronounced. "Nobody's staying for the food!"
"I'm sure it's great food," Becky said.
"I must say, there hasn't been much in the way of business, but it sure has been a fun day!" Margot said.
"What do we owe you?"
Margot laughed. "All you had was a glass of wine. Those other folks left a thirty-dollar tip! It's on me!"
We thanked her and Becky and I held hands and strode out towards the door. "By the by," Margot called out. We stopped and turned back. She took a few steps forward and continued in a lower voice. "When I'm in bed tonight? I'll be thinking about y'all." She held up her bare left hand and wiggled her fingers. "Me an' my latest lover boy here."
Becky and I laughed, a little red-faced. We said good-bye to Margot and promised to eat at Gino's again. We went outside.
It was still gray and overcast, but the rain had stopped for a moment. The air felt cool and clean. I walked Becky to her car and she got in. She rolled down her window. "I'll see you in ten minutes," Becky said. I looked in the window and her dress was up around her hips. Another inch higher and I could see Becky's treasures!
Ten minutes? It sounded like nine minutes too long!
We drove to my house, Becky in the lead, me behind. She parked her car and jumped out, bouncing back and forth on the sidewalk. I got out of my car and Becky took off running. The rain began to fall again. Becky's dress flipped up as she ran, I ran after her, watching the backs of her legs and her lovely bottom bouncing under her dress.
The rain pattered as we reached my backyard. The grass was long and green and thick and smelled earthy. Becky backed away, grinning widely. "Come and get me," she said. The rain fell harder.
I pulled off my shirt. Cold raindrops fell on my shoulders. Becky unzipped and shrugged out of her dress, and she stood there wearing nothing but her shoes. I yearned for the thick black hair between her legs. Her little dark nipples were pointed.
The rain fell harder and noisier. I kicked off my shoes and threw down my pants. My cock was already up and hard. We stood facing each other for a moment, like two wrestlers before a match.
And then she ran right at me, her arms swinging and her hair flying. She laughed and jumped right into me, I grabbed her and spun her to the side, she laughed, her wet skin rubbed against me, and I wrapped my arms around her. She squirmed and twisted and finally she was securely in my arms, looking me in the eyes. My erection was pinned against her belly.
We held each other and kissed, and the rain fell. She grabbed my butt and squeezed. I ran my hands up and down her sides, up under her arms, and ran my thumbs across the sides of her breasts. We kissed and Becky whimpered in my mouth.
"Get down here," Becky said, and she dropped to her knees and grabbed my cock. "Come on, get down here."
I was penis-pulled into a supine position. The grass was soft and wet and cold on my back. She kneeled between my legs and held my erection up. "Yum," she said, and she put her mouth over the head. Her tongue pressed against my glans, and she gave me a light suck.
She tickled the underside with the tip of her tongue. "You like this?" she said, and she tickled some more. "Why, I do believe you like this!"
My heart raced. "Stop, Jesus," I said. I tried to pull away but she held on tight. Her tongue flicked all along the bottom of my glans.
I couldn't hold back. I boiled over, semen spurted. "Oops!" Becky said, and she laughed. She stroked my throbbing cock while I spilled all over my belly.
She slid up and kissed me. "Don't think you're off the hook yet, big boy," she said. I felt dizzy.
She slung her arm and leg across me and pressed up close. She kissed me and nibbled on my lips and my head cleared, I was soon back in the swing of things, I kissed her, tried to suck on her lips, ran my tongue up the inside of her upper lip. Becky hummed and squeezed my chest. I ran my fingertips down to her ass.
I came around between her thighs and found her soft hole, worked my ring finger in. She was oily and warm, and her legs wiggled up against me.
"I wonder what we can do while we wait?" She gave my limp prick a playful yank.
"Your turn in the wet grass, I think," I said.
"Sounds like it could be unpleasant."
"It's not so bad."
"We'd better hurry before the neighbors get home."
"Oh, I think you'd like that, wouldn't you?"
Becky lowered herself down into the grass and gasped, nearly jerked back up, but settled slowly down. "Jesus, it's cold," she said.
I put my hand over her pussy, felt her soft hair in my palm, stroked my fingertips across her soft skin, felt her soft heat. "Not feeling too cold to me, Becky."
"Just hurry up, while I'm still in the mood," she said. She laughed. "I'm in the mood," she sang, "I'm in the mood for some of your fuck." She laughed again.
I tickled the backs of her thighs and she lifted her knees up and apart. I got down between Becky's legs. I held a leg in each arm and alternated kisses from thigh to thigh. Becky squirmed in my arms.
I combed Becky's dark pubic hair with my fingers. I loved to play with Becky's pubes, the curly soft hair, brushing it this way and that, swirling it around my fingertips, and tugging gently. Becky bloomed, her scarlet opening peeking out between swollen lips.
I pointed my tongue and ran it through her silky folds. She stroked the sides of my face with her fingertips. I curled my tongue up and over her clitoris, flicked it a little, and pressed the flat of my tongue down on top.
I blanketed her clitoris with my tongue. Rain water pooled in her bellybutton, drops covered her whole naked body. She shivered and I ran my tongue back and forth over Becky's clit. Becky likes it slow, and slow is how I went. I found I could control her respiration. She would breathe sharply every time I moved my tongue upwards. Slow long swipes, over and over again:
Over and over again, long, languorous, upward, full-tongue licks.
And Becky cried out.
I gave her a couple final licks and looked up. Becky's face and chest were flushed red.
My dick was stiff again. I crawled up between Becky's legs and she spread her thighs wide.
She was rained on all over, wet, her skin taut, her nipples tight. Her breathing was fast and shallow. "Fuck me," Becky said.
I pressed my prick against her vagina.
"Fuck me," she said.
I pushed and Becky's pussy yielded. She shimmied into position, and I pressed the rest of the way in. She was so warm.
"Fuck me, fuck me."
The cold rain fell on my back, her heels hooked around the back of my legs, she hugged me close, drew me down until I was on my elbows, her whole body touching up against me, from shoulder to breast to belly to hips. We rocked against each other, we kissed, I sucked her ears, and Becky squeezed me tighter.
"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," Becky sang, and her tongue flicked my ear. I clung closer to her warm body, while the rain cooled my back. I rocked back and forth.
"Fuck me," she breathed, and her hands went up and down my back.
"Fuck me," she said, and she grunted from deep in her diaphragm.
"Ah, ... love me," and Becky's voice trailed off.
My beautiful Becky. I rocked and rocked and felt Becky's warm body against me. The rain fell, and I covered her, kept the rain off her.
Becky nuzzled into my neck and opened her hands against my sides. I soared, I froze, I pulsed, and I emptied inside her.
I looked at Becky's sweet face, and her eyes fluttered open. We kissed softly. Becky's eyes were wide and moist.
My penis slipped out. The rain pattered all over me. I slid to the side. Becky's skin went to goose bumps. Becky shivered.
"Are you cold?" I said.
"No, I'm fine."
"Let's go inside."
"No. Let's lie here a minute."
Her nipples were hard, her skin wet. The rain let up to just a drizzle. I kissed her nipple, lipping it and flipping with my tongue. She ran her fingers through my damp hair. I looked up at her. Becky's eyes pooled up. "I'm sorry I haven't been much fun lately," Becky said.
I kissed Becky's bare belly, and I pressed my ear against her tummy, and I listened. I was surprised. I heard something I had not noticed before. How could I have missed it?
I lifted my head, looked into Becky's big eyes. How could I have been such a fool?
I held her hand and put my ear back down on her soft belly. "Becky," I said, my mind full of wonder, "I can hear your heart."
And Becky cried.
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