My elderly two-door Ford Focus was just not going to cut it. Neither of us was a gymnast, and nobody else could possibly fuck in the back seat. We took Josh’s slightly less geriatric Ford Fusion. It had four doors, at least.
We first tried a dance club. Josh hit the dance floor showing off all sorts of athletic and sexy moves designed to impress the ladies. Not one of them paid attention. He asked me to try.
My dance style is based on Olympic figure skating. I have the Triple Toe Stumble, the Broken Axle, and the “Can’t I Lever Get This Right?” My performance was the highlight of the night.
Everybody thought it was a comedy routine. I was flat on my face within the first two minutes. I got up, dusted myself off, and then landed on my ass thirty seconds later. I slipped trying to get up and wound up knocking over an entire high-top table. The two girls sitting there had been sharing a pitcher of beer. It wound up drenching all three of us.
The red-head with short hair and an engaging smile tried to help me up. She slipped on the beer. Her friend, a tad plump and giving off a slightly exotic vibe, tried to assist. All three of us were rolling on the floor, laughing. Always quick on his feet, Josh picked up a half-full pitcher of beer from an empty table. He walked over to us, poured half of it over his head and the rest onto the pile of hooting and snorting people on the floor.
We got a round of applause. And a round of drinks on the house. I vowed that next time I’d show everybody my patented Death Spiral moves.
Introduction all around, of course. The red-head was Veronica. She’d worn a white blouse which, when wet, let us confirm that she hadn’t bothered with a bra. I was fantasizing about the babies we would make together. After years of practice, of course. She kissed me on the mouth and asked if I wanted to dance. Then we both broke out laughing.
The exotic vibe girl was Sonja. She was wearing dark slacks and a pale purple filmy thing on top. She kept picking at the filmy thing. When wet, it stuck to her skin like glue. Sonja began licking beer off Josh’s cheeks, so he returned the favor. Obviously, we had sorted out our respective dates for the night.
Veronica and Sonja were roommates sharing a small apartment. Each of them had a boring job making slave wages. They could afford to go to a club once a month, if they skipped breakfast every day with a vowel in it. Before long, I had my arm around Veronica’s waist and Josh had a hand on Sonja’s leg.
Sonja suggested we get cleaned up. Josh motioned toward the restrooms, but Sonja had another idea. She smiled and told us to follow her.
We got another brief round of applause as we walked out the door. The night was warm and the sidewalk was crowded. “Christ, I hate it when I get beer all over my clothes and they stick,” said Sonja. She pulled the purple thing over her head, revealing a matching purple bra. Josh’s eyes widened. I had a slightly different physical reaction, and readjusted my khaki pants. People passing by did a double-take.
“Me, too,” said Veronica. She pulled the white blouse off. We already knew she wasn’t wearing a bra. Now, so did everybody for several blocks around. A guy driving a pickup truck pulled off to the side of the road so he could leer. Veronica yelled to him. “How do you like my tits?” The guy flashed his truck lights.
I offered to cover her with my sweater. “Shit, we got ourselves a couple of prudes,” she complained to Sonja. The purple bra found its way off the body, into the air, and was lost in some bushes.
“It was old anyway,” said the now topless Sonja. Her breasts were large for the rest of her body. She turned to the guy in the truck. “Whose tits do you like better?” she yelled. The truck lights flashed on and off.
Sonja took Josh’s hands and put them on her tits. “My nipples get hard when I go topless in public. What about yours?”
Josh needed no more urging. His shirt followed Sonja’s bra into the bushes. Sonja grinned at Valerie; in seconds, my shirt was headed for the branches of a dogwood. “Isn’t that fountain up ahead?” asked Veronica.
Of course it was. Now I knew where we were supposed to get cleaned up. Sonja yelled to the guy in the truck to find a place to park and then follow us.
When we got to the fountain, the girls took off their shoes and set them aside. Sonja pulled off her slacks and tossed them onto the sidewalk. A passing motorist caught a glimpse of the nearly-naked nymph and ran off the road. Her slacks were stuck under his car as he pulled away. Sonja was wearing sheer purple bikini panties and nothing else. And that lasted only a few seconds.
Veronica waited until the guy from the truck caught up with us. “You wanna see more?” she asked him playfully. “Twat you wanna see?” The old guy, probably in his sixties and with gray hair, grinned and started clapping. Veronica did a seductive strip of her shorts and threw them at the guy.
Neither Josh nor I was waiting for an invitation. We put our shoes next to the girls’, and our pants and underwear went airborne never again to be seen.
“Come on, get naked with us,” Veronica insisted to the old guy.
“I have to get my Viagra out of the truck,” the geezer said. Veronica looked disappointed. Then she looked at me.
“No Viagra needed there,” she observed. My beaver basher was ready for action. Josh’s little soldier was at full attention. We had gathered a crowd of onlookers. No kids thank God, but about two dozen adults were watching the spectacle.
“Wanna see some pussy?” Sonja had directed this last one to the crowd. They roared. She climbed up on the wall around the fountain and spread her legs, then her lips. “Somebody get a picture!” she yelled.
There had to be fifteen cellphones clicking away. Sonja asked Josh to join her on the wall. “Get ready for the money shot!” she told the crowd.
Sonja’s mouth enveloped the little soldier, who started marching. Josh was face-fucking Sonja on the wall.
Veronica looked at me and winked. I could take a hint. We joined them on the wall and soon Veronica was sucking on my cum gun. More people arrived; more cellphones took pictures. Then an older woman dialed her flip-phone and dialed. I was pretty sure it was only three digits.
“She called the police,” I yelled. All four of us jumped down from the wall, grabbed our shoes and took off running.
We reached Josh’s car out of breath. Fortunately, he had a spare set of keys hidden behind the back license plate. We all piled in. Sonja pulled out her cellphone. Where the fuck had she hidden that? She placed a quick call and hung up.
We had gotten maybe six blocks when we heard the siren. Then we saw the lights. Oh, shit. Josh pulled over.
“License and registration please,” said the officer. He looked to be about our age, so maybe he’d give us a break. No luck.
“We’ve had a report of drunk driving. Step out of the car, please.” Josh was completely naked. His little soldier had deserted to the enemy and was cowering in terror. This did not look promising.
“You, too.” He was talking to me. I wasn’t driving, why did I have to get out of the car?
“Are you fucking deaf, or what?” The officer was pissed off big time. “I told you to get out of the car, dickwad.” I got out of the car. My cum gun had shrunk to toy revolver size.
The policeman put both of us through the paces of a sobriety test. Walk, follow the pencil, stand on one foot, the whole thing. I thought I could hear the girls giggling in the car, but that couldn’t be right.
Finally, we were done. “Where are you headed?” Josh answered with the first thought that entered his head.
“We’re going home. We live in Coyndal Quad.”
“You mean Coitus Quarter, don’t you? Isn’t that the place where everybody runs around naked all the time and fucks?” The police officer was clearly not a fan.
I was wondering if it was possible to do IT consulting from behind bars. I mean, plenty of people worked remotely these days.
Finally the policeman laughed. “Sonja, you be safe, OK. If either of these jerk-offs gives you a problem, just call. Have a good night.”
“Good night, Marty,” said Sonja. “Make sure I get a copy of the dash cam footage.”
It had been a set up. We were framed. By the time we pulled into our driveway, thirty-five minutes later, I could finally laugh about it. Well, chuckle at least.
We piled out of the Ford and ran into the house. “Wanna see some pussy?” asked Veronica as soon as she was in the door. Paul and Randy were in their underwear drinking beer and watching porn on the television.
Veronica had their full attention. “Well, there’s an animal shelter down the road. I hear they have kittens available for adoption.”
“Where are the bedrooms?” asked Sonja. We ran to our bedrooms and split up. I fell on my bed and looked over at Veronica. She was a little plump and had a vaguely exotic look to her.
I started to say something, but Sonja shut me up. “My poker buddies say to play the hand you’re dealt.” The sex was awesome.
Sonja continued the oral ministrations to my dick. In seconds, I was hard. I dove into her cunt and my tongue found her clit. Sonja had her first, but hardly last, orgasm of the night. I gave her two more orgasms with my mouth, and she edged me mercilessly. Every time I was about to cum Sonja pulled away. “Think about a root canal,” she whispered in my ear. My thoughts were on a completely different kind of canal and I told her so.
After forty-five minutes she lay back and spread her legs. I rolled a condom onto my flesh flute and we made music. Such sweet music it was. I must have lasted at least four seconds before I spilled my sperm into the Trojan.
We got out another condom. This time Sonja put it in her mouth and rolled it on me. I lasted a lot longer. Not as long, of course, as I did with the third condom. With the fourth one, it was no joy. Sonja said it was okay. She was pleased.
