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It had been a few days since the party where Callie and Rebecca had stayed most of the night with me. I spent all of my free time thinking about that night and the crazy scenes that had accompanied it. I had seen women engaging in bisexual sex and a women’s ejaculation for the first time, watched a girl pee and been strangely aroused, and nearly had a tongue up my ass. It was the first time for all of these things for me and I walked around campus like a new man. The rumors about what might have happened in my room that night had already started since it turns out that the rhythmic noises and loud orgasms of the girls were impossible to sleep through for some of my brothers.
I had done nothing to fuel these rumors since I had learned at an early age that women do not like when their sexual activities are discussed by juvenile boys around a locker room bench. That doesn’t mean that I didn’t enjoy the attention that the speculation was causing, but I did nothing more than offer a weak smile when anybody asked what had happened that night. In the chapter house’s cafeteria during dinner one night, the social director tried to put me on the spot when he asked in front of a suddenly silent and leaning forward room, just what had occurred on Friday night. I smiled the smile of someone who knows something that will not be told and went back to eating my ravioli.
Callie and I saw each other again on Tuesday, the first time that we had coinciding shifts together. She walked outside to the resort’s pool bar to check on me. According to the computer in her office the “Tiki Lounge” as I called it, was having a brisk sales day. She stood beneath a palm tree’s shade and watched as I hustled to reduce the line of thirsty tourists in bathing suits in front of the service counter. Once the line of seven or eight couples had been taken care of, I turned to check on the patrons sitting around the bar itself. Almost all of the pool bar’s twelve stools were occupied by folks taking a break from the sun and people were coming and going constantly requiring my attention.
This was only two years after the movie “Cocktail” was in theaters. Every person who approached the bar would make some comment about the similarity between my flowered shirts, Ray-Ban sunglasses, the hut’s thatched roof, or the tropical-style drinks and the movie that was still fresh in their minds. I was frankly tired of being hailed as “Tom Cruise” by goombas from New York and New Jersey, but if I had to be compared to a movie star, the pre-nutjob Tom was not a bad one. This day was no different, since one couple sitting in my shade was from Rockaway, NY and “Vinnie” (I always called them Vinnie in my mind.) was bragging about something or other; I didn’t really pay attention to their loud posturing other than to add the appropriate head nod or “Oh yeah?” when the pauses came in their stories.
Vinnie ordered another imported beer and his girl asked for another Daiquiri. Since his story about his business was apparently over and I was not the enthusiastic listener he’d hoped for he stood up and headed back over to his lounge chair by the water slide. To my surprise, the bikini stayed to drink her cocktail in the shade. A little small talk in between pouring drinks was all I could offer her. I’d noticed that she had a great body covered by a skimpy outfit, but all thoughts of sex at that time involved Callie and Rebecca so I didn’t really let my mind head down that road with this New Yorker.
When my phone rang, I was surprised to hear Callie’s voice on the other end.
“‘You enjoying the view?”
“I was until you went back inside.”
“I didn’t even know that you’d seen me.”
“Situational awareness,” I whispered into the receiver. “You don’t spend all day every day out here without knowing where the good looking ones are.” No seat around the octagonal bar was more than twelve feet from me, so I covered the phone with my hand to try to stifle the conversation from the ears of would be listeners.
“Well, when Guido left his girl there with you, I thought I’d better warn you discreetly about them. Is this discreet enough for you?” she asked, indicating the phone call rather than a personal visit. It was amusing to me that she called them “Guido” instead of my “Vinnie”.
I laughed, “Warn me? What do you mean?”
“Well, security thinks those two are swingers according to the night’s log entries. Apparently, they received several calls about the noises from their room. The entry reads ‘Guest answered the door and promised to try to keep the noise down. Several other couples scantily dressed evident.’ I bet those old pervs in security spent half the night patrolling that hallway and listening at that door.”
“What do you want me to do? Get them drunk and ask if we can join them?” I joked while trying to make sure that nobody at the bar could hear me.
“Shhhh,” she chided, “do you want her to hear you?” After I laughed again, she continued, “I’m just warning you that you might get propositioned and that since you got a little ‘hinky’ when someone else’s fingers got near Ankara escort your butt the other night, you might want to consider what a roomful of them might do to you.”
“Sorry lady, I’m spoken for.” I whispered into the phone. I knew she was standing not thirty feet away. The game room’s large picture windows were behind the bar, and in the reflection of my computer monitor’s screen I could see a miniature Callie holding a house phone to her ear. It was an easy pick; she’d worn a white blouse and red skirt that day. To say she stood out amongst the t-shirts and board shorts of the flabby tourists was an understatement. And like I mentioned, I always knew where the pretty girls were with my three hundred sixty degree view of the pool area and a pair of sunglasses hiding the direction of my glances.
Her reply came quickly, “Right answer. You win a prize.” I still hadn’t turned to look directly at her, since pretending like I didn’t know she could see me was still part of the game. “Will you take the blond or the brunette, sir?”
The light-hearted banter was fun but this sounded like a trick question. By “brunette”, did she mean Rebecca or the Italian bikini model sitting in front of me? In any case, I answered quickly since the appearance of taking too much time to think of a reply could be just as damaging as the wrong response. “Parts of me may enjoy the ‘dark haired prizes’ that have been awarded already, but my head is hoping to win the sweepstakes and I understand that the blond is the grand prize in that contest.”
“You’re so full of shit. Bartenders; you guys have always got a line, don’t you?” Her pretend scolding was funny but I wanted to assure her that Guido/Vinnie’s girl wasn’t even on my radar.
“I’m serious, ma’am,” I drawled in my goofiest southern accent, “thar ain’t but one lady what my eyes kin see.”
I turned to look directly at her and said into the phone, “Can we talk about this later? I don’t want to miss it when I get invited to the gang bang.”
She snorted then tried to cover it by flipping me the bird. Realizing she was in a game room for children, she looked around anxiously and seeing nobody who had caught the gesture, laughed at me again. She said, “Don’t make fun of me for growing up in the country. We ain’t all dumb, you know.” She said as she mimicked my own fake accent. Hanging up without a further word, she stuck her tongue out at me through the window and headed back to the café.
I didn’t see her for the rest of the day, but when Paula brought my meal from the snack bar, I was quite surprised. I usually went up to the snack bar and brought my lunch back to the hut, but this personal service was an unexpected bit of attention. I hadn’t even ordered my lunch yet, but it was easy for her to predict what I’d want and when I’d be hungry. I ordered a plain burger and spiced fries every day at around 2:30.
“‘Tired of being cooped up in that little snack bar?” I asked.
She looked around at the drinkers under the shade of the palm fronds and said “I was just wondering how the party went.”
In my mind, I was immediately worried that Paula, who had a reputation for seeing everything that went on at the resort, knew about my “date” with one of our bosses. If it leaked out that one of the assistant food and beverage managers was doing a bartender, it would not be good for someone’s career in management.
I tried to cover by answering noncommittally, “It was a good party. Lots of people came but I went to bed early.” All three statements were technically true, but I hoped that she didn’t know how literally I meant it.
“I’d like to go to one of those parties some day. Could I come even though I’m not a student?”
“Absolutely. I’ll keep you in mind for next time.” Satisfied with this answer, she turned and started walking back to the snack bar without another word. “Playing coy, huh?” I thought. Again, she had no idea how literally my statements had been meant since my guests had “absolutely” been allowed “to come” even though they were not students. Furthermore, I was relieved that she didn’t seem to know about my tryst with our co-worker.
I may have watched her walk away from me for too long. The girls that worked in the snack bar had a pair of white shorts as their uniform and it was my favorite pastime to try to see what type of underwear they had on beneath them. I was confused and trying to choose when the Guido-ette jolted me out of my staring.
Apparently the girl from Rockaway had heard and seen this exchange, because the next words I heard were in that annoying (to me) accent, “You wanna bring her to a party, you should bring her to one we’re havin’ tonight.” What I heard when she said it though, was the voice of the female lead in the television show “The Nanny”. I turned to look at her and tried to think of an answer that would not insult her. I’ve got nothing against swingers, or hot Italian girls, but I was more interested in spending my time with my manager at this point. I politely declined and she eventually went back to sit with Vinnie at the pool. Before Ankara escort bayan she left, she said, “Nothing.”
“What?” I asked.
“You were trying to figure out what kind of underwear that girl was wearing. She ain’t wearin’ any.”
The rest of the shift was spent pouring drinks and watching the ass on the Italian job while thinking about my next encounter with Callie. I spent a lot of time trying to decipher the odd relationship she had with Rebecca and how she had always seemed to be in charge of what the younger girl did when they spent the night with me. What I didn’t know at the time, was that Rebecca had been hired about two months ago to work in the accounting department of the resort, an area that I never dealt with unless my register had a discrepancy in my drawer’s money.
Towards the end of my shift, I received a call and thought I recognized the voice. “Dave, it’s Rebecca. Look, I don’t have much time, but Callie asked me to tell you that she’s grilling steaks tonight and she’d like you to come over.”
“How are you calling me on a house phone? Are you here?” I asked.
“Yeah, stupid. I’m the accounts receivables clerk. ‘You didn’t know?” she laughed.
“‘News to me,” I exclaimed. “Since when?”
“What do you care? Quit screwing around. ‘Will you be there or not?” By way of explaining why she had to get off the phone, she added, “The GM is coming.”
“Tell her she’s the boss. I’m hers to command.” I said.
“Yeah, you and me both.” She hung up.
Later that night, after a filling dinner of steak and baked potato, Callie and I were swimming in her pool. The underwater lighting cast odd shadows and the water created funny distortions but neither could hide the fact that she had removed her one piece bathing suit or that her nipples were reacting to the cool water. I hung on the side of the pool kicking my legs to stay afloat in the deep end and just watched.
She climbed out and stood in the night air toweling herself dry. When she was dry enough to walk across the carpet, she entered the house and I could see her heading towards the kitchen. Assuming that drinks were forthcoming, I turned to face the pool wall and lift myself out.
“Stop. You’re fine right there.” I heard from behind me.
Her painted toenails and long, tan legs came into view and I looked up at her. Both hands had a glass of wine in them and I took one from her and perched it on the deck nearby. Hers was placed on a small table near a pool chair and she walked over to the shower by the privacy fence and started rinsing herself.
When she came back, I asked, “Why’d you get yourself all wet again?”
“Because you might not like the taste of chorine.” Came her retort.
Without further words, she sat on the edge of the pool with a long leg on either side of my head. Her bald snatch was directly in front of my face and I looked up at her. She scooted her ass nearer to the edge which placed her pussy even closer to my face.
“‘Still hungry?” she teased.
Without answering, I reached out of the pool and wrapped my arms around her ass. This allowed me to caress one of my favorite parts of her and to hold myself in a good position while the rest of my body stayed in the pool. As I moved my lips closer to her sex, she leaned back to give me better access. At the moment my tongue made contact with her vaginal lips, a small dribble of red wine ran down her belly and onto the junction of my mouth and her pussy.
“Mmmm, that’s nice.” I said.
“‘Just in case there’s any lingering pool water…” she replied as my mouth attempted to catch the liquid running over her crotch.
Ever so gently, I switched from trying to catch the wine to teasing the man in the boat. Using only my lips and tongue, I separated the outer lips of her vagina and slid my tongue up and down her snatch. The sight was enough to harden my cock even under the cool water. The hairless lips and smooth area around them looked like that of a much younger girl. I bent to my task and soon had the nub standing up proudly where it received all the attention my thirsty mouth could supply. The sounds she made encouraged me.
Stopping briefly, I asked, “How does this compare to your regular head?”
She laughed and chided, “Get back at it, you. It’s different when it’s coming from a girl, but I love it either way.”
My hands caressed the cheeks of her ass and the small of her back. I felt her lean back a little more, giving me more access to the slit and I renewed my efforts at bringing her off. I knew that I could not treat her this gently for long. My cock beneath the water was trying to bore a hole into the pool’s side and my desire to see her squirt in orgasm again would override any thoughts I had of a long, casual fuck.
She placed the empty wine glass near my full one and spread her legs a little further. Propped on her elbows now, my hands roamed around to her sides and her flat stomach. With my arms under her knees, she bent her legs more to place a foot on the edge of the pool on either side of me. This served Escort Ankara to grant me better access to her wet pussy and I placed my hands on the skin above and to either side of the tops of her legs. Pulling on this area had the effect of separating her lips more and her clit was clearly visibly between them. My tongue poked at it again before renewing my assault. I planted my lips around the little knob and applied suction like a baby nursing at a bottle.
“That’s it. Right there.” Her body tensed a little more and she leaned completely back to lie flat with her head on a folded towel. “Just keep doing what you’re doing…”
I increased the sucking motion while moving my head slowly from side to side. The increased pressure caused her to reward me with less intelligible noises, but their meaning was clear. My left hand massaged the area of her lower stomach just above her slit and the other held me far enough out of the pool to reach that treasure. As beautiful as Callie was, I could think of nothing but to please her and if that moment had frozen in time, I would still be happily sucking her clitoris. My straining cock wanted in on the action, but it was going to have to wait.
I removed an arm from beneath her knee and moved up higher out of the pool to hold myself on one elbow. I slipped an index finger into the hole and crooked my finger. With minimal searching, I found her g-spot and commenced to rub small circles into it. As gently as possible, I caressed the fleshy mound inside her pussy until she bore down on my finger. I felt that if she were to squeeze me any harder, she might break off my digit. The pressure applied by the pad of my finger increased and the suction my mouth was applying to her distended clit started to have an ever growing effect on Callie.
Her breathing quickened then seemed to stop. She took a deep breath and exclaimed, “I’m gonna squirt!”
Hoping for a repeat of her ejaculations, I pulled my head back to watch. I kept the finger in her cuntal opening and watched the jewel of her pussy erupt. The stream of ejaculate from her surging loins made an arc into the air and landed noisily in the pool beside my head. I gave up trying to keep a finger in her let alone on her. Curiosity got the better of me and I moved my head to try to catch some of her stream in my mouth. It was warm and nearly tasteless and before it died down I had a face full of it. I determined that whenever possible, I would find girls who could “squirt” and pleasure them over and over. It may be the hottest thing I have ever seen in the bedroom and knowing that I could give one person so much pleasure was extremely satisfying.
One final pulse escaped her sheath and then stopped. Liquid ran down her crack and puddled at the edge of the pool while she lay breathing heavily. I watched her toes uncurl and her legs begin to relax as she tried to get her breathing returned to normal. Eventually she sat up, seemingly recovered from the exertion.
“‘That all you got?” she teased.
I couldn’t help but laugh. Women can fake orgasm to make a man feel better about his performance, but squirting a two foot stream of cum out of her puss is just not something I thought she could fake. I was satisfied that I had given her the orgasmic bliss that my efforts deserved.
When we were later relaxing in the house, I got her to talk about Rebecca and how they had come to meet. After Callie’s divorce from her idiot husband she was feeling down about not seeing her girls since the asshole had received custody. He sounded like the kind of guy that used the children as a weapon to annoy his ex-wife and cause her heartache. Kyle was twelve years older than Callie and had money, so when he was able to afford a better divorce lawyer, Callie felt lucky to come out of it with the house that they had built together. But only getting to see her daughters on Sunday afternoons weighed heavy on her heart and she looked for a way to get back at him.
On many of her days off, she would drive past Kyle’s place of business or his new apartment since they were both near the stores where she shopped. Often she saw a red Mustang parked in both places which stuck in her mind since Kyle drove a pickup. Eventually she found out through mutual friends that Kyle might have hired some pretty, young brunette to take care of his books. The rumor was that this girl was doing more than accounting and spying the Mustang at Kyle’s residence seemed to confirm it in her mind.
She asked around and found out that the girl’s name was Rebecca and set out to meet her and get revenge on Kyle. By a “chance” meeting in a gas station parking lot, Callie struck up a conversation with her replacement. Putting on her friendliest face, she introduced herself and tried to engage the younger girl in small talk. At first, Rebecca was hesitant and feared that what Kyle had told her about his “witch of an ex” might be true. But eventually, Callie won her over and Rebecca agreed to meet her for lunch some time and talk about the kids. Rebecca apparently was finding that being a mistress, and now the live-in girlfriend, was not as fun as it may have looked initially. She had no experience with kids and the constant attention they demanded took away from the time that Rebecca felt should have been hers with her new lover.
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