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SOCCER MOM by Alex S. Sexton This is subject to all the usual provisos: "If you lack the maturity to grasp this disclaimer, then under no circumstances read this story without guidance of someone more mature (to quote Deirdre)." © 2007: This work may not be reproduced in any format or medium without the permission of the author.
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Jerry’s mom told me he was at the Lions’ lodge. I’d driven six hours in sweltering summer heat the length of Virginia, and unloaded my bags in the guest bedroom. Mrs. T went back to her nap. I wandered around the garden, smoking a cigarette, and then went in search of Jerry. I kind of knew where the Lion’s Club was, about a mile away, and I picked up a 12-pack on the way. One wrong turn but then I found it. It looked liked one of those small Baptist churches you find in the hollows of Appalachia: white chipped paint, a cupola, and a hall stretching incongruously out the back. I parked in the side parking lot among a host of SUVs and oversized pickups. Behind the building was a Little League baseball field with bleachers and a soccer field replete with munchkins mobbing around the white ball. Their parents looked on approvingly. The back door was open and I stole past the disapproving glances at my case of beer into the shadowy hall. I could hear water running somewhere in the back, and as my eyes adjusted to the dark the small stage still dressed by a drum kit. My feet stuck it the day-old beer congealing on the linoleum. “Oi! Jerry?” I called. “Who’s that?” A person emerged from a doorway. “Yo, it’s Steve.” He drew closer but didn’t recognize me. I knew Tom, a friend of Jerry from high school, but it had been a few months since we’d seen each other. “Jerry’s friend from college… Want a cold one?” “Hey Steve,” he greeted placing me, “I could do with a beer.” I ripped the case open and handed him a can, and opened one for myself. “Can I have one?” Jerry emerged from the backroom with a pail and mop in hand that he placed on the ground. I tossed him a Busch. We about poured the contents down our throats. Jeez, it had to be about 102. We savored the coolness of the beer. “Made it up here ok?” asked Jerry. “Yeah… hot trip…” “Still no A.C.?” “On the fritz…” “Got any weed? It’s been dry up here…” “Same back on campus,” I reported, “but I managed to pick up some yesterday.” “Cool.” It had been dry for a while, what with the latest anti-drug policies of the administration, but I had scored a quarter-ounce of homegrown before I left. I guess the weird thing about the stringent drug laws was that it made more sense to sell high potency pot instead of bulky dirt weed. Hence a few grams of worthy sense under the passenger seat of my car. “It’s in my car” I continued. “Let’s get this place cleaned up before we have a smoke-out,” suggested Tom. “Ok.” Jerry tossed his emptied can into a 50-gallon receptacle. “Got another?” Tom and Jerry were in a band. Let me correct that. Tom played in the band, lead guitar, while Jerry ran the soundboard. This was a small-town thing, but they would rent local halls from civic clubs, buy a few kegs, the band would play, and high school kids would pay a cover charge to listen but mostly get blotto on the beer that was included. Two or three hundred kids, most with false IDs, paying ten bucks against the cost of renting the hall and five or so kegs made a profit. Again, these were the Reagan years before MADD got the drinking age raised and fake IDs didn’t have to real good. But someone had to clean up afterwards after the kids slopped beers and often puked. I helped sweeping the floors before the advancing mop wielded by Jerry. Tom was packing up the stage. Between the three of us, a couple of more beers, we got the place pretty decent. We sat on the stage and drowned our beer. The back door opened a crack. The harsh sunlight pierced the comforting shadow. The bright backlight meant all we could see was a profile. “Any of you fellers got a cigarette?” The voice was whispery and the accent a Southern drawl. She closed the door behind her. She was about five-three with dirty blonde wavy hair. Strands stuck to her cheeks and neck with the heat and her sweat. She was wearing a short denim skirt and a flimsy white dirndl with lace. Small breast that were kind of perky in the sunlight that glanced across them from the window. Nice legs with firm thighs but a little thin below the knee. She was in good shape for a woman of her age, which I guessed was around 35. “Sure,” I said. I proffered her my box of Marlboro’s, and she took one and lazed it on her lips. She leant towards me. I could see her cleavage in the V of her shirt and the pink glint of an aureole. I shuffled through my pants to find a lighter, and lit her cigarette. She drew on it deeply. “Thank you,” she said, “… big boy.” “You’re welcome,” I stammered. Up close I could see the sweat stains outline her bra. Jerry took up for me. “Ma’am, would you like a cold beer?” “I sure would…” Jerry pulled one from my fast depleting case and opened it for her. She had a couple of gulps and puffed on the cigarette. “What are you boys doing here?” She sat herself on the stage next to Tom and Jerry. Her legs were very taut. Tom explained to her about his band, last night’s gig, and the clean up that we had almost completed. “So you play guitar?” she asked. “Yes Ma’am.” “And I run the sound board,” added Jerry. “That sounds technical…” She studied them both and then turned to me. “And what do you do?” “Nothing much. I’m Jerry’s roommate in college and just here visiting.” “I’m sure we can find something more interesting for you to do than just that that.” She placed the empty can on the stage and crushed it with the ball of her hand, and the cleaned her palms by brushing them over her thighs. “Can I have another beer?” I gave her another. “So what are your names?” We introduced ourselves, and asked her what she was doing here. Her son, seven, had played soccer in a game out back. She was separated from her husband and didn’t have custody of the kid. The ex- had be there glowering at her attendance before taking their son home to his house. She had a button nose and sharp blue eyes. Her name was Vicky. Her breasts heaved each time she gulped some beer or drew on a cigarette. “Any of you boys got some weed?” she asked finishing her second beer. Tom and Jerry looked at me. I went out to the now empty parking lot and found my stash. I loaded up a bowl full in my pipe and watched the kids being packed in minivans, stuffed my precious baggy in my jeans, and headed back inside. Tom had cranked up the sound system and put on a Lynyrd Skynyrd. Jerry was slow dancing with Vicky to “Sweet Home Alabama.” Tom and I took puffs off the pipe, and the others soon joined us. We watched Jer with Vicky. Jerry was a big guy, maybe two-fifty pounds and well over six foot, and his dance partner seemed almost lost in his bulk. The Skynyrd tape ended and they came over to Tom and me. I filled another bowl and watched them smoke it. “Let’s dance some more…” offered Vicky. She went out to the open area before the stage. Tom took her inviting outstretched hands and drew her body close. His hands soon clasped her shoulders and their groins ground. I moved around behind her. Vicky’s ass was round but a little flat. Tom was massaging her shoulder blades and easing the bra straps over her shoulders. “Come…” Vicky reached her hand behind her back and touched mine, grasped it, and pulled me in. The three of us danced. Tom was kissing her on the lips, while I nuzzled her neck and ear. My hard on pressed the denim between her ass cheeks. Vicky’s fingers tickled my balls through my blue jeans. Jerry joined in and hugged her from behind. He wrapped his hands around her waist and loosened the button on her skirt. Vicky offered no resistance as he pulled them down over her hips, and kicked them away when they descended to her ankles. We danced for a while. Tom pulled down her shirt and bra and kissed her nipples while Vicky kissed his forehead and the back of his head. I kept dancing from behind, and swiveled my erection with Vicky’s gyrations. Jerry had his hand down her panties. All three of us were kissing her, her breasts, her neck, and her ears. “Shit boys,” Vicky said breaking free of us, “I need another toke to get on with all of you.” She sat on the stage, still in her panties and top. Tom and Jerry sat on either side of her. Jerry kissed her on the lips while Tom delved behind her panties into her nether regions. I re-filled the pipe and got it stoking before passing it around. “Would you like another beer?” I pressed the cold can between Vicky’s legs. She grabbed my wrist and pushed my hand away. “No, I want to fuck.” She pulled me toward her and caressed my erection. She unzipped the fly of my jeans and pulled my hard-on from out of my underwear. She held the length in her hands, and then stood up, bent over and placed the head of my prick in my mouth. Vicky sucked in dearly. As she was bent over Jerry pulled down her white panties. She kicked them way. Jerry placed his lips against her cunt and started swilling her juices. Vicky’s lips enclosed most of my erection and started to fuck me hard with her mouth. Tom stood next to Jerry and started pulling up her shirt and unclasped her bra. He started sucking her uncovered nipples. We crab-walked to the stage. Vicky broke her lips from my cock and lay back on the plywood. Tom positioned himself on his knees above her face, and she pulled his erection toward her mouth. “Fuck me,” she implored. “I only want head,” Tom said. Jerry and I knew Tom had got the clap screwing on the side and pissed off his girlfriend. Whether oral sex would prevent another bout was Tom’s call. Vicky pulled his cock into his mouth and sucked. Vicky was prone on her back on the stage, which was about waist height. Her legs were open and between them her cunt. The lips were parted and glistening. “Fuck me.” I pulled down my jeans and placed my prick into Vicky’s cavity. Jeez, it slid in easy. She had shaved her pubis recently, but it had grown back a bit and the sharp-edged hairs pricked against my belly. She felt so smooth as I fucked her. “You going to come?” Jerry asked. He was stroking his hard-on with his hand, his pants wrapped around his ankles. I didn’t answer. I pulled Vicki’s shirt up so I could suck her perk nipples. God, they were hard as diamonds. Immediately above my head Tom was fucking her mouth. Vicki’s hips started bucking against me, and I could tell she was coming. She lifted her lower torso and thrust is against me, and I felt the electricity coursing through her. “Your turn…” I said. My prick slid out of Vicky with an audible sound. Jerry moved in and started fucking her. She was so primed her hips started pulsating against Jerry’s. She started to come and her belly contorted, squeezing Jerry, and making him come. During this Vicky kept on sucking Tom’s cock. Vicky flipped. She still had Toms’ dick in her mouth, but now she was leaning against the stage with her shapely pear shaped ass in front of me. Jerry’s cum was dripping from her vagina—gloops of semen running off her thighs. “Sloppy seconds?” Jerry commented as I drove my cock into Vicki’s cunt. I could feel the lubrication. “Do my ass.” Vicky was prone against the stage sucking Tom’s cock. Her ass was round. I pulled the hefty cheeks apart and eyed the little hole. I never had fucked someone up the ass. The head of cock slipped in easily and then I got some resistance. Vicky escaped Tom’s cock in her mouth. “Push harder.” I thrust my hips and my prick penetrated into Vicky’s ass. It was tight and encased me. I pulled-and-shoved against her intestines. Vicky was heaving spasmodically. “I’m coming,” she garbled with her lips still locked around Tom’s penis. He was fucking her throat hard. Vicky grasped my prick with one hand and pulled it from her ass. She placed the head against her cunt lips, and pushed back her hips so that the whole length of cock entered her. “Fuck, that’s good…” she said, gobbling Tom’s manhood in her mouth. I kept thrusting into her. “How are those sloppy seconds?” asked Jerry. I don’t thing his come made her a whole lot wetter. Vicky pushed her ass against me, and my come started welling up. “I want to come in your ass.” She pulled my prick out of her cunt and against her asshole. I pushed in easily, and Vicky contracted her back passage. I came in a couple of seconds, filling her backside while she continued to her oral machinations on Tom. “Mmm” she oozed as I withdrew. Drops of my come spilled onto the stage. I looked at Jerry. Jerry looked at the door. Vicki was still sucking Tom’s cock We got out and drove around for a while. The remaining beer got left back at the Lion’s club, so I drove to a convenience store. Jerry went in and came back with a six-pack of some premium import. While he was doing that I was rearranging my privates, all sticky as they were, and was zipping up my pants as Jerry came back to the car. He opened a couple of beers. “Let’s go to the point,” he said between sips. “I can’t remember all the turns, so direct me.” I put my beer between my legs and steered in the general direction. We got to the point, near a little seafood place that looked over the sound, and drank some beer. “You got any weed left?” I filled the bowl and we smoked it. “That was fun,” I said. The sun was setting behind us but casting oranges and reds onto the water. “It was… how old do you think she was?” “Maybe thirty-two or thirty five?” The waves crashed on the beach. “Yeah, but she was kind of hot.” “No, she was hot.” Jerry opened a couple of more bottles. The weed mellowed us, and the beer incubated that mood. We drove back to Jerry’s house and when we pulled into the driveway he just said, “That was a weird scene, wasn’t it?” “Yeah.” I took a left onto the road where Jerry lived, and the gravel crunched under the wheels. Ms. T. had come off her nap and we sat on the porch. Jerry and I finished off the six-pack and then his mom went inside to watch TV or something. We looked at the lightning bugs flittering like comets in the night. Jerry got some beers out of the fridge. “Awesome.” “The beer?” I asked. “No… this afternoon.” It had been pretty awesome. Vicky’s pussy was so wet and slick, and she came like an earthquake. And then, well fucking her ass… so tight and she just quivered. I got hard thinking about it. We went behind the shed and smoked some more pot, and then drank some more beer. The night was quiet and Mrs. T. went to bed. A while later Tom came by. He was pissed we had ditched him and he had to walk back to the house. “Did you get good head?” Jerry asked. “Fuck yeah.” “Does that kind of stuff happen often around here?” I asked. They just shook their heads. “Do you know her? Does she live around here?” “Never seen her before,” Tom said, and then his phone rang. |
I really hated this. I was getting some of Little Al’s clothes out of the dryer and packing it in his bag. Alan, his father, my soon-to-be ex-, wanted more clothes for our son. Joint custody and this was Alan’s week, but he didn’t have the time to launder. But I did it. Just like when we were married. Was it worth it? Alan was a turd and I was going crazy with him. The hassles of trying to look after lil’ Al and hide all the fights with his father till the decree got finalized were driving me insane. I looked around the empty apartment and realized how empty I felt. Empty inside… yeah, Alan was a turd but there was something comforting in waking up finding a warm body beside you. And then mentally I started counting how long it had been to have a warm body inside me. Eight months, not that Alan’s was much to talk about with my girlfriends. I got lil’ Al’s stuff together and put it all in my car. Little Al had his soccer game in the local church league. There were the shin pads, the boots, the water bottles and all that other stuff that I had to gather and transport. Fuck, I thought, what if my lawyer is incompetent. Big Al was worth a quarter million plus, and I wanted a hundred thou of that. Just to get started again. A hundred grand and Little Al, that’s what I wanted, at least long term. Fuck, though, want I wanted now, this minute, was to fuck. I guess I was kind of slut in college. Not the gang-bang frat slut variety, but kind of bounced around on a few different beds. I counted in my head, the boyfriends and the one-night-stands. I couldn’t remember all the names, but could visualize each of them; big cocks and slim cocks, pink ones and black ones, one’s that went ‘bang’ if you just touched them and the good ones that went all night. I don’t know why I married Alan. Well, I guess I did. He was brother of my best friend in high school, a successful realtor and pretty good looking. But not much in the manhood department—adequate and diligent once or twice or week. When he started dicking with his secretary… well, I guess he was just trying to bolster his inadequacies. I thought about the energetic young cock I feasted on in college. Maybe I was kind of ashamed of the way I slept around, but college had been an awakening for me, letting me unleash all those pent up urges that my upbringing try to prohibit me even thinking about. I pulled into the parking lot. It was half-full. I could see Alan’s Expedition parked and his balding head on the sideline. Lil’ Al was wearing that cute red-and-white striped shirt and wandering around the center circle. Right next to me was this cute butt. Some kid, maybe 19 or 20, was messing around under the seat of his car. Light brown hair, but what a tight ass as he kneeled on the ground. He got up and was shoving a plastic bag into his pocket. Hmm, weed. It’d been years since I got high, and that was usually a prelude to getting… I watch the young saunter off to the civic club—was it Kiwanis? Good looking kid… his butt disappeared into the building and I wonder about his cock. Stubbing out my cigarette I got the bag of Al’s clothes and prepared myself for the inevitable confrontation with big Al. “Here’s his stuff.” I gave him the bag of fresh clothes on the sideline, hoping that the other spectators would make him behave civil. He took it but looked like he would just throw it on the ground. “We got to talk… that last injunction or whatever, about my personal savings, has got nothing to do with us. That was money I earned before we married, and…” “You can have your lawyer talk to mine about it Al.” I started walking away. “And if catch you sleeping around you won’t ever get to see little Al.” I turned around. “Like the judge won’t care you got Miss Hotpants living with you, and Al under the same roof?” I walked away and back to the parking lot. The anger just made me horny. I stole a glance backwards, and seeing no one looking, approached the meeting hall. What was I doing? Why was my body leading me here? I pushed open the heavy door and poked my head into the dark within. I couldn’t see much more than shadows in the main hall. “Any of you fellers got a cigarette?” I asked as my eyes adjusted from the harsh sunlight outside. I leaned back against the door and heard the lock catch. My eyes adapted to the shadows. Out of the sun I could feel the perspiration cool on my skin and get sticking, clinging my hair to my neck and forehead. Three blobs before transformed into young men. The nearest one was a big boy, over six foot and looked like a logger with his beard, tartan shirt and all. Behind were two shorted and slimmer guys, with light brown hair. I just got excited looking at them. “Sure,” one of them said. He darted around the lumberjack and offered me a Marlboro. I leaned forward to light if from his Bic, more than I needed to, ‘cause I wanted to exaggerate my bosom to see if I could rile these boys up. I took a big draw on the cigarette and exhaled. These three were all studs, and I wanted them. “Thank you, big boy…” Politely he said, “You are welcome,” in a foreign accent but all the time his eyes were focused on my chest. The lumberjack one moved nearer and offered me a beer, which I was more than inclined to accept. He pulled a can out of a case, popped it open, and I swallowed about half of it in a couple of guzzles. Cold beer on a hot day sure felt good. “What are you boys doing here?” “My band played here last night, and we have to clean up. There were a couple of kegs…” The third one explained pushing between the lumberjack and the other one. “So you play guitar?” “Yes Ma’am.” He was polite. “I run the sound board,” said the one who looked like a lumberjack. “That sounds technical…” I wanted him to explain and connect to him.. “And what do you do?” I asked the foreign one. “Not much. I’m Jerry’s roommate from college and just visiting.” “We might just something more fun for you than visit.” I put my empty beer can down, flattened it, and pulled at the waistband of my skirt and smoother it down over my legs. “Can I have another beer?” I felt sexy. The one with an accent, British, gave me another beer. “So what are you names?” The one who looked like a lumberjack was Jerry. His roommate, the British one, was Steve who I’d seen in the parking lot and had the tight ass that brought inside. Tom was the guitarist, a local boy. I told them I’d come to see my angel play soccer, but ran into my ex-. The boys were all so cute and doting on me. It made me feel good to be wanted by any of them, but I needed more than their thoughts of desire. “Any of you got some weed?” Two beers weren’t making me lightheaded. The British one, Steve, went out the door. Tom and Jerry (I know!) kept chatting and one of them turned on the sound system and cranked a tape. Steve came back in with a pipe packed with some sensimilla. I’d started dancing with the forester, my arms wrapped around his waist. The British guy and the guitarist started smoking the weed, and after a bit I disentangled from big Jerry and dragged him over to smoke some. It was good weed, and we passed the pipe around. The British guy, Steve, refilled the bowl and we finished that too. I was really coasting. The beer, an empty stomach, and three studs was making me horny. I get like that smoking pot, but must of felt that way just going in there. Feeling horny that is. “Let’s dance some more…” I moved away. The guitarist took my hand, and his felt soft as he pulled my body into his. His hard groin pushed against mine, just making me feel that much more agitated. One of the other guys got behind me and I could feel the lump in his pants press between my ass cheeks. I reached for his hand and pulled him closer. “Come on,” I whispered. My breast fell loose as my bra straps were shifted off my shoulders. The three of danced slowly. The guitarist started kissing me on the mouth with his tongue probing. The guy behind me, the British one, was getting hard. I felt around until I found his balls and started playing with them, a little pocket billiards. Then the big guy in the flannel search joined in. His huge arms wrapped around my stomach, rubbing it. Then he unbuttoned my skirt and started pulling it off till it fell around my feet. I stepped out of it and started fencing with the tongue in my mouth. We kept dancing. The four of us swirled round and the guys slowly pulled off my clothes. The guitarist stopped kissing my mouth and started sucking my tits. A was hand in my panties and started rubbing. They all kept nuzzling me, mouths adoring my erogenous zones. I needed a moment to think, and broke out of their grip. “Shit, I need a toke before we start.” I sat on the stage just in my panties. Two of them sat right beside me, the guitarist kissing my mouth while the big one used his clever fingers to make me wet. I knew what I was going to do… fuck all three of them. The English one started passing his little pipe around, and then pressed a can of Busch between my legs. It didn’t cool off the heat there a bit. I pushed the can away and grabbed the guys’ wrist. The can fell on the floor with a thud. I kept hold of him. “I want to fuck.” I pulled the English guy, Steve, to me. I got his pants and untangle his prick. It looked thin but then I realized it really pretty long. And that I had to it my mouth. I got off the stage and, standing, leaned down to start sucking the purple tip and down the hard shaft. One of the guys I left on the little platform pulled down my briefs. I stepped out of them. Then I felt a nose between my buttocks, and then a tongue lapping at my wetness. My bra was unclasped and fell to the floor, and another mouth started slobbering my breasts. What was I doing, what was I getting myself into? Whatever it was I wanted it. The three of them kind of moved me to the stage, laying me on it on my back. The guitarist kneeled next to my head, his hard cock swinging over my face. I was so hungry for it, and just plucked it my mouth. I ordered someone to fuck me and parted my legs some more. “I only want head,” said the guitarist. That was OK with me. I gobbled up his cock and felt the mustiness of his balls. His was a normal size, but wondered about taking all of the English guy, and whether the lumberjack had one that matched the rest of his physique. Those thoughts just made me more aware of the hollowness between my legs. I spread my thighs, and exposed my arousal. “You going to fuck me?” I asked as invitingly as I could, and went back to sucking the cock in my face. I couldn’t see what was going on, but I felt this steel hard prick slide into me. It filled me and stretched my cunny until his pubes bristled against the opening. The emptiness was going away. “You going to cum?” I recognized the voice of the lumberjack, and hoped the one fucking me wouldn’t come soon. Steve, the one fucking me, started pinching my nipples. That just made writhe and suck the cock in my mouth that much faster. My pelvis automatically pushed against the penis (or was it a piston?) inside me. All of a sudden I started to cum, and then felt the gushes of British cream in me. There was a vacuum as he withdrew. “Your turn…” I heard, and then there was another cock inside me. It was thicker but not as long, and it made feel like I was getting stretched every which ways. I tried to concentrate on the head I was giving, but my body betrayed me with another orgasm. He wasn’t as vigorous as the English one, but he worked my body good with his thick dick, and then he came. The lumberjack left me and I rolled over to get a bigger mouthful of the guitarist’s dick. While I worked it harder I could feel the blended juices—semen and my own—spilling down my legs. I wanted more. “Seconds?” The answer was that long cock sliding into me. I don’t know why I said it. “Do my ass.” I’d let Alan try it once and didn’t like it. But my desire betrayed me before I thought about that long sword in my tight backside. I felt it push against my puckerhole and slide in a bit. I imagined it going deeper, truly filling me up. I got the cock out of my mouth. “Deeper.” And started sucking again. The English guy pushed it in. I felt like I was going to explode. He started thrusting. His cock felt like hot lava inside me. “I’m coming.” I was. The guitarist was trying to do a tonsillectomy with his prick, but it was the cock that was driving me. I had to have it the right hole. I buckled away and then aimed it where I wanted it. Steve just thrust the whole thing in, and I could feel his balls slapping against my clit. “Fuck, that’s good…” That English cock just kept sliding in-out of me, raising me higher. “How ‘bout those sloppy seconds?” the lumberjack asked. I thought about the sperm mixing inside of me with that long prick stirring. It just made me quiver some more. I fucked back against the hard bod. “Can I cum in your ass?” Steve asked. What a good idea. I grabbed his dick and placed the head at the door of my anus. He pushed in, and I pushed my butt to engulf him. Steve probably thrust twice and then exploded in my ass. I swear it made me cum again. He pulled out, and I felt empty again. He shook his dick and globes of… something… spilled beside me. Tom’s cock was still in my mouth. Able to concentrate I started working it. I could hear the other two guys shuffling around, and the door clank as it opened and closed. The guitarist started to spasm, and I knew his hot sperm would fill my mouth. I swallowed each eruption as it exploded. My head lay on the plywood while his cock softened in my mouth. The saltiness was making the back of my throat scratchy. I tried to blow some stiffness into the lax meat, but Tom pulled it out. He started fixing his pants, covering himself up. And I realized I was naked and oozing body fluid that covered me. Fuck, three guys, half my age… at once? “Where are the other guys?” I don’t know why I was asking the question. Well I do. I wanted more. The long hard one, the thick one… And while my ass felt sore, it felt empty. “I don’t know…” said the guitarist. “I really need a drink.” Tom looked to the depleted case of beer. “No, I need something stronger.” I put my clothes on. They were littered all over the hall. I could feel Tom’s eyes appraising me. Like Alan looking at real estate. But I also felt like prime property. “Is there a liquor store ‘round here?” “Yeah, about a mile away. I can show you if you give me a ride.” Tom didn’t have his car, I guess he got a ride with the other two. We got to the store and I brought a bottle of Seagrams. The guitarist was sitting on the hood of my car when I came out of the store. “You want to come back to my place?” I asked. He shook his head and started walking away. “Tom, you got a number I can call?” The guitarist turned around looking uncertain. “I may need a band sometime…” He came back and pulled a tattered card from his wallet. “Do you have a pen?” I got one from my purse, and he carefully wrote on the back of the card. “That’s my cell phone.” “Thanks, you sure I can’t give you a ride.” “Nope, I’m just going up the road here a bit.” He walked off into the twilight. I watched his ass twitch in loose jeans, and got horny all over again. Driving home I thought about it. Three dudes just filling me… At home I turned on the TV and poured myself a drink. I was hazy. The beer, the weed, and, jeez, the sex. Long cock, thick cock… I just felt the need for more cock. I was satiated, but just wanted more of the same. I reached for the phone and dialed the number the guitarist wrote on the back of his card. |