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Behind The Bamboo Curtain
“Mike, Mike – check out what’s behind door number one.”
I was helping my neighbor Rick install a skylight. I turned and followed the direction of his gaze over the peak of the garage roof. Less than twenty feet away, framed by the French doors of the guest bedroom was a pair of legs – beautiful legs.
Rick’s sister-in-law Gwen was visiting and I certainly had no objections to seeing her in all her glory. The only problem was a matchstick sunshade hanging down in front of the French doors blocking the view from her mid-thigh up. Stupid curtain.
A tiny t-shirt fluttered to the floor – damn curtain!
“Ahhhhhh. C’mon Gwen.” Rick groaned as shorts shimmied down to the floor and were kicked aside. Damn fucking curtain!
A small lacey bra was seen suspended in mid air for a moment then surrendered to the laws of gravity. Goddamnmotherfuckingcurtain!
The body turned to the side and bent at the waist. Two glorious breasts hung down. Hands moved down the legs and a tiny ribbon of red material could be seen entangled at her knees. It was stepped out of one leg at a time.
“Sit on the bed and show me that little smoothie of yours Gwen. Sit and show it, sit and…Ohhhh damn she let her hair grow back in, damn!”
Movement caught my eye and I saw a young blonde heading towards the pool with a towel over her shoulder.
“Isn’t that Gwen there?” I pointed across the backyard as I turned back to the naked woman on the bed. She was doing something with her toes and her pussy lips were open and fully exposed.
“Yeah, it is? Hey, hey quit checking out my wife you pervert!”
I just ignored him.
“Well, I thought the special effects were good, especially in the cave fight.” I touched the back of Amy’s wrist with my knuckles and our fingers slowly entwined.
“What’d you like best? Or who’d you like best – had to be Johnny Depp.” I mimicked a 7th grader’s voice, “He’s so cute and dreamy.”
“Well actually…no. I think he can be really funny, you know, like in “Bennie and Joon” or “Edward Scissorshands.” Amy was bumping my hip, her signal I was about to get lucky.
“I could use some scissors now.” I made cutting motions with my fingers across the spaghetti straps of Amy’s top.
“Stop that, someone illegal bahis might see you.”
She swatted my hand away and crossed her arms over her boobs. But not before her nipples said ‘hello.’ Amy was as reticent about public displays of affection as she was quite the opposite in private.
“Well if it wasn’t Johnny then who had you squirming in your seat. Someone had you all hot and…” I put a hand on Amy’s elbow and turned her toward me. “Please not Orlando.”
“Orlando Bloom is a very good actor I’ll have you know.”
I leaned in close. “I’ve heard he’s a gay as they come – total flamer.”
She tilted her head a bit and shook it slightly; her classic response that meant “Why do you have to be such an asshole sometimes.”
Hours later I collapsed across Amy and rolled onto my back. “Very inspiring – two cocks up. ”
Amy smiled. “Yes, I must say, I was inspired. You can thank Orlando for tonight.”
“What do you mean ‘Thank Orlando?’I was thinking of the girl, Kiera Knightly, and that scene when she was all wet and her nipples popped out.”
“Her nipples – that’s not acting!”
I just laughed.
I awoke with a start.
Where was she?
I could smell her on my pillow. The bed was still warm from her being beside me. She was supposed to be here – with me.
I heard a noise and climbed slowly out of bed. My foot touched a nearly empty bottle. I thought about finishing it for a moment but left it on the floor. I’d had a bellyful already tonight as evidenced by a loud belch.
I walked on unsteady feet, my hand touching the hallway wall as much for balance as direction.
The noises, the muffled sounds were on the other side of a door.
I pushed it slowly open.
She was there – with him.
She was sitting him.
No she was bouncing up and down on him.
In my confusion I cried out.
I wanted her more than anything else.
He saw me standing there, and he laughed.
He laughed at me!
She turned and looked over her shoulder at me.
She wasn’t smiling.
I backed slowly away.
I crawled into bed – angry, hurt. Maybe even a little scared.
And then she was beside me, soothing me, comforting me, caressing me.
She placed her nipple in my mouth and a warm gush of milk illegal bahis siteleri filled me.
In an ever-deepening calm I drifted slowly towards sleep.
She kissed me and spoke my name with love.
She was mine again.
What Did You Mean by That?
“Look – it meant nothing to me.”
“Well it means something to me.”
“I’m telling you it was meaningless.”
“No, mine was meaningless. I was drunk. It happened. That’s it. Meaningless.”
“Same here. Except that I was definitely sober. It happened, I made sure of that. Andnow that’s it – meaningless.”
“Who was it?”
“Does it really matter?”
“Of course it matters! How can you just sit there and say that it meant nothing?”
“How can I? The exact same way you can.”
“Meaningless – huh? So you’re saying that it was just meaningless.”
“Yep. It didn’t mean a thing; as in having no significant value. Mean-ing-less.”
“Okay. What do we do now?”
“What do you mean?”
A Senior Moment
“Right like I’d forget that. Just dump it there. I’ll fold it all later.”
“Oh so now I’m incapable of folding clothes.”
“I didn’t mean that. Michael – I know you didn’t want to housesit. But Grammy needs someone around. She’s getting so forgetful.”
“I know, it just we haven’t had sex since we got here. I mean c’mon Rach – I know this place is small but – oh ho, what do we have here?”
“It’s a condom obviously and just why do you have one. I’m on the Pill asshole.”
“Asshole? What are you? – this isn’t mine.”
“Oh Please. Who are you fucking Michael? Is it that slut of a secretary of yours? Oh I know all about oh so efficient “Ms. Jacobs.” I nearly fell over her at your office Christmas party. She was doing some guy in one of the backrooms. So you decided to ‘evaluate her performance’ for yourself?”
“ Evaluate her performance? I have never even touched – my relationship with Sofia is strictly professional.”
“Oh so now its Sofia, is it? I guess that’s why…”
“Children please! I can’t hear my T.V. program with all this noise out here.”
“Sorry Gram. It’s just that…”
“Oh you found it. I was wondering where that got off too. The Senior Center is going to Las Vegas this weekend and a couple of the men are going to try that new French canlı bahis siteleri Viagra. I think it’s called ‘le weekender’ or something.
“Well if you don’t “BYOC”, that’s “Bring-Your-Own-Condom” you might as well stay home. Not that I can get knocked up anymore! You know dear, there just aren’t any good substitutes for a warm hard cock. And given the ratio of women to men I feel much safer with this. How do you kids put it? “No glove, no love.”
“Well good night sweetie. Thanks again, I’m just so forgetful.”
“Ohmigod. My Grammy is a swinger?”
“Forget your Grammy, what the fuck was that comment about finding Sophia in one of the backrooms? There’s a story – a pretty wild story – going around about that party. Seems that some guy got it on with two women at that party. Just what the hell do you know about what happened at that party Rachel?
“Oh oh – um, I forget?”
Ten Simple Facts
One, I am severely hung over. I knew that I’d drank like a fish last night because the hangover I’m experiencing, the one that had the insides of my eyelids feeling like sandpaper, is enough to make me consider stop drinking altogether.
Two, this is not my bed. My head is resting on a big soft pillow. The pillow case end, the part where you stuff the pillow into, that’s all lacey-like. The sheets are really soft and smooth. I don’t have a big soft pillow, lacey pillowcases or really smooth soft sheets.
Three, I’m naked and I’ve had sex – recently. My A.M. hard-on had that sore stretched tautness that follows lengthy if not always great sex (hopefully that memory will clarify before too long.)
Four, I’m pretty sure that the woman whose arm is draped over my chest and whose leg is inserted between mine is the one I had sex with. She’s also naked. I’m basing this on the delightful feeling of her soft breasts and hard nipples pressing into me. And that our skin seems to be stuck together at the hip.
Five, now I remember. Last night I had driven a co-worker home from an “End of the Quarter TGIF” party. She had invited me in for a cup of coffee that became instead an opened bottle of Tequila.
Six, she told me that her husband was traveling out of the country and wouldn’t return until sometime next week.
Seven, we’d commiserated with each other about loneliness and unmet desires.
Eight, oh yeah. The sex was both great and lengthy.
Nine, she’s waking. Sliding onto my chest, straddling my hips; guiding me into her.
Ten, my wife is visiting her sister; she won’t be home until Sunday evening.
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