tagExhibitionist & VoyeurA Coincidental Payback

A Coincidental Payback

byNeonurotic©

Copyright Neonurotic, August 2011

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.


#

Ryan Grant and his friend Scott walked into The Peach, a tiny country bar outside of Rome, Georgia. They'd just quite literally returned from hell, where Scott spent one day's worth of torture to Ryan's two weeks with his asshole of an uncle, Nathaniel. Although he gave a valiant effort, he failed miserably trying to bring reconciliation between his father and uncle since their bitter feud had lasted long enough. His father, the elder of the Grant brothers, had developed a terminal illness and wanted to make peace before he died.

While it was true that Ryan hardly knew Nathaniel, his father still thought he would be the best mediator, even though it had been seventeen years since he'd seen his uncle. His father's assumptions about Nathaniel, how no one would really turn away family with news of a dying relative and their last wishes were hugely wrong. Turned away, he was, and quite callously so.

Throughout the family talks, he said nothing in defense to his uncle's verbal abuse or the misdirected rants about his father. He knew it should've been Nathaniel attempting to settle differences. The feud was due to his uncle's affair with his mother, destroying his parent's marriage. All and all, the visit had been an utter waste of time. There wasn't going to be a happily-ever-after for the two brothers; the intervention failed simply because Nathaniel was a cruel self-serving bastard. He concluded that whatever went around, came around and bit his uncle on the ass, his uncle was surely deserving of such cold desserts.

The stay with Nathaniel was initially supposed to have been a week long, "getting to know you" sort of experience with his long lost uncle, but it turned into fourteen miserable days with a man he grew to despise. On the day he was to return home, his vintage, Jeep decided to develop ignition problems and since the car was old, parts were hard to come by. Now stranded and wanting to get as far away from his uncle as possible, he ended up having to wait for his friend Scott, a mechanic, to bail him out of hell. Luckily, his friend came to his aid immediately after attaining the ancient parts for his vehicle.

Once inside the country tavern, the drinks ordered at the bar and received, Ryan scanned the room to find a table. The bar was full, but he found a lone table in the middle of the crowded room.

This must be the only bar in this shit town, Ryan thought sourly, eying the locals.

The two made their way, weaving precariously between the other tables with drinks in hand and took a seat, both groaning heavily. In unison, they kicked up their boots; heels thudded on top of the spare wooden chairs at their table. Ryan leaned forward and accidentally put his arm in a puddle of spilled beer. Muttering a "g'dammit", he wiped his elbow while he glared at the rickety table. It was clear that it had seen many drunken nights, with its cigarette burn marks and wet glass ring stains.

Annoyed, mopping the beer off the table with a stack of napkins, Ryan said, "Listen man, I'm real sorry about you having to come down here and ruining your whole frigging weekend." He apologized to his life long friend, feeling beat down as he hadn't spoken to his father yet about the outcome of his visit with Nathaniel, a talk he wasn't looking forward to. "But I'm glad you came."

"You, I bet." Scott grinned. "No problem dude, at least we can see why the asshole's wife left him."

"No fucking shit. What's funnier than hell is that cold bastard was actually surprised, even heartbroken when she left him." Ryan grinned back, watching Scott sip a weird local cocktail that looked like a pink girly-drink to him and he mentioned as such to his friend.

"Aw, fuck you jackass." Scott laughed, pretending to be put off by Ryan's comments.

"It's the truth, just wanted to warn you that you look entirely too femme drinking that." Ryan laughed because it really was quite hilarious imagining the Mission Beach muscle-head in drag. "Drink up, sweet pea, and I'll buy you another."

Scott made a 'fuck you' hand gesture.

Eyes roving the bar, Ryan quickly cased the room and spied a group of women playing a game of electronic darts. The machines were noisy with them hitting bull's eye with nearly every hit. The women were laughing, having a good time, and were giving Ryan and Scott the once over too. All of them looked at the very least half-drunk if not smashed.

"Hey man, don't you just love it when women make you feel like they're copping you a feel with their eyes?" he smirked.

Scott nodded, indicating that he knew the girls were doing just that. "Do you think that's copping a feel? It feels more like rape to me." After draining the rest his drink, he licked his lips. "Guess I'll have to do something about that." He grinned as he got up from the table and went back to the bar to order another drink.

Out of the group of women, Ryan noticed one particular hot Georgian peach dressed in a short skirt and a red t-shirt, two sizes too small that showed off her sexy curves perfectly. He made eye contact with her, she smiled, whispered to her girlfriends, and the group of women giggled back at him. Scott returned with a pitcher of his girly type drink, a bottle of tequila, and a couple more beers.

"No way," Ryan made a play of resistance on seeing the tequila. "Dude, I'm not drinking Jose tonight." He groaned, remembering the last time he drank shots until he couldn't stand.

Snorting as if he heard the most ludicrous thing ever, his friend poured a couple of shots of the tequila. "It isn't all for you jackass, it's for the ladies over there too."

Ryan leered, shot one of the Jose's and chased it with the cold Mexican beer then shuddered from the bite of the tequila. The reason for the wicked grin was he recalled his friend's "Drunk Ass Test", which required consuming copious amounts of the liquor. Scott's theory, a principle that Ryan wholeheartedly agreed with, was one of three personalities intoxicated off tequila. You'd be a mean ass drunk, a silly ass drunk, or an easy ass drunk. Scott and he both being silly asses preferred the female type silly asses. Easy asses were the ultimate piece of ass, but never ever the mean ass, for obvious reasons why not.

"All righty, lady killer, go slay them." Ryan snickered.

Scott rolled his eyes and grunted. "Get off your lazy ass. I'm not doing all the work here."

Ryan feigned an exasperated sigh, got up, and drank the last shot of liquor. "Fine, I'm going to get silly then."

"Going to get? You are already are."

Ryan picked up the bottle tequila and gestured to his friend with it, indicating it was Scott's fault.

"You would've fucking whined if I hadn't given you any."

Scott was right about that. Making a show of it by twisting Ryan's arm into drinking it made it easier, since they both knew he'd eventually end up being stupid with tequila. Even then, he could always charm the pants right off the ladies with his sweet-talking, So-Cal, surfer accent that only made its appearance when he was drunk.

Scott coolly swaggered over to the ladies with Ryan in tow. Georgian smiles greeted them.

"Hey there ladies, I'm Scott and this here is my friend Ryan. We're a couple of Cali boys." He smiled broadly, as the women in turn, made their introductions.

The girl whom he eyed earlier like candy, smiled invitingly to Ryan. Up close, he unconsciously zoned in on her, as she was indeed a very hot juicy peach. Honey blonde hair framed her pretty heart-shaped face with a smattering of freckles across her pert nose. He flashed the Peach his best lopsided 'fuck me', the smile that earned him many a one night stands.

"I'm Kristina."

# # #

Kristina gave her hand to Ryan, which took in such a way that no one could say it was a mere handshake; it was a lightening bolt that felt like hours of sweaty hot sex. Instant chemistry had her smiling, flirting with him without words. His vivid blue eyes lit up—maybe he felt it too? And good lord, he's beautiful, she thought weak-kneed, and wanting him in a bad way. She was such a slut. She knew it was cliché to think, 'love at first sight' but it certainly felt that way. She then recovered and gathered her wits about her.

Lust at first sight, silly and Christ...horniness too!

Having not felt that way in quite awhile, she forgot what being horny was like. It had been much too long since she last had sex. To be exact, eighteen months, five days and several hours too many since the last she was properly laid. The thought of sex and the heat of his hand holding hers made her panties wet. Sopping was more accurate as the wetness spread quickly and actually dripped down the inside of her thighs.

"It's nice to see you Californian boys up here in my Peach."

# # #

Huh? Not yet, but I will be . . . uh, the bar dummy, the bar. "Oh, you meant this bar, The Peach." Ryan finally got what she meant; she wasn't referring to her pussy. "Well, not just yet, but maybe soon enough." He said, under his breath.

Kristina's eyes gleamed.

"So you said your Peach. You own it?" He asked, still holding her hand and felt a tingly sensation pass between them. However, the tingly sensation stopped when he looked at her hand, seeing the pale, indented strip skin around her ring finger.

"Yes."

"Peach, huh?" He felt ill, muttered "That's hella sweet."

"Yes, all mine." Then she turned and called to the barmaid, "Drinks on the house!"

Disappointed, he dropped her hand and moved his attention to Scott's conversation, nearly turning his back on her. She noticed his demeanor then gave him a quizzical look. Screw it. He no longer cared about the tightness she caused in the crotch of his pants and didn't want to get 'silly' drunk, just plain drunk. He'd seen a white band of skin on her left ring finger of a very tan hand. It put his dick in the mud, so to speak.

That's about right, married—a forbidden juicy peach.

Damn good morals, it wasn't fair. He never touched married women now, not since his hard lesson in being a backdoor man when his father had a sit-down with him, telling him how disappointed he was in Ryan. His parents had divorced for the very same slimy reason he indulged. The divorce had been an especially nasty one involving a considerable fortune to split, scandal and a bitter child custody battle, all of which resulted in deep depression for each parent. His mother committed suicide a year later.

Sucking down his beer, he listened to his friend's spiel and sulked. It was a speech he heard many times before as Scott always tried to get the ladies to drink his tequila and ultimately bedding them all. It was a routine, a boring one actually, since he'd seen it so often. He stared darkly, his mood plummeting to the floor. He needed another beer.

Scott was a slick fucker, a true player, always getting what he wanted with a little bit of manipulation here and there—with his help of course. One dark-eyed beauty, now quickly revealing that she was an 'easy ass' on tequila, flirted outrageously with Scott and mentioned they were out celebrating Kristina's soon-to-be-changed marital status, earning her the title of 'divorcée'.

Yes! His mood soared.

Ryan brightened then happily poured a drink for Kristina. Also looking relieved, she gave him a sexy smile that had him horny for her all over again. She shot the celebratory tequila, took Ryan's beer out of his hand and downed the rest of it.

"Looks to me like you're in the need for another one of these," she said huskily, giving him an instant erection.

"Yep, looks it," he laughed, trying to hide his erection from her as he went up to the bar to order another beer.

As he stood at the bar, he felt soft female hands reach up under his shirt, stroke his back and circle his waist. His breath caught in pleasure as he felt her long fingernails dig into his belly.

"I'm wanting you in a desperate way Ry," the sexy Peach whispered.

Grinning confidently, as he now knew for sure that he was going to get laid and it was such an especially sweet thing because of the long stay in hell at his uncle's place. "Why baby, we hardly know each other'," he teased.

"I don't need to." Kristina pressed against him, caressing the hard bulge that formed under his fly. "And it feels to me like you don't need to either."

"Ya, you got that right," he glanced over to Scott and the other girls. All three of them were grinning back at him goofily. "Hmm, all right then Peach," he said then took her hand and led her outside into the rain, where they were instantly soaked to the skin. "Well, my Jeep is full of water now since I took the top off my car. There's nothing like wind blowing through your hair to get rid of the stink of bad luck, eh?" He shrugged, laughed, knowing she hadn't a clue what he was talking about. "Trust me, it does good thing."

# # #

"Then I will," she smiled, a bit bemused.

Saying that was just appeasing him; she really didn't care much about his bad luck since she had a more urgent need to be quenched. She was so ready to fuck him right now that nothing was going to get in the way of doing it. That moment earlier where he seemed lost to the spark and the dirty innuendo that passed between them nearly put her in a panic, left her wanting to know whether her instincts were wrong. If a woman didn't have intuition about men then what else did she have?

It's been so long, too long, dammit.

Nothing else was on her mind since laying eyes on him the second he walked through the door. Sometimes that just happened to a girl—the crzy-mad lust feeling of wanting it now. Determined, as she was to satisfy the ache between her legs, she wasn't going to let the rain stop her. Him either, for that matter, which was all moot now with him nearly running to the door.

Rain didn't stop her. He didn't stop her. Instead, he let her lead him to the back of the building where it was semi-private, though anyone could happen on them. She didn't care. She pushed him up against the wall roughly, causing him to hit his head on the side of the tin building with a thud and twang. He winced, rubbed the back of his head and gave a laugh that was cut short when she pressed her lips to his, tongue jammed into his mouth.

From the bright look in his eyes and the crinkle at the corners , she could tell that her actions slightly amused him. It amused her too, since she wasn't the take charge, on top sexual type of woman. Her soon-to-be ex-husband had set a boring routine of once a month in the missionary position before he totally cut her off from sex. If she wanted it, she had better not complain how he gave it or when he gave it to her. Bastard, she was 35-years-old, a live wire in the sack, and wanting it all the time, any man should be so lucky. Her ex had become impotent in more ways than one, but the emotional stalemate had been the worse.

"It's been awhile for me."

Standing up on tiptoes, she ran her fingers through his wet black hair, pulled him down to nip him on the neck. He groaned lustily, admitting he too hadn't had sex in awhile. Good, better for the both of us.

Attacking him with much fervor, she popped buttons off his shirt, kissed and bit him from chest to navel. His skin tasted a little salty and a bit sweet from the rain that cascaded down his bare chest.

Kristina fumbled with the zipper on his jeans and became frustrated at not being able to unzip him. She massaged and stroked him through his pants. Ryan's cock grew harder, his breathing more ragged with each pass of her hand. A rush of excitement passed through her as his hips thrust forward against her hands in a highly aroused state—wanting her—wanting to fuck her like a man should.

Reaching down the front of his pants, she felt him up. He was big and hard—so much more satisfying than the semi-softy she was accustomed to that her ex tried to have sex with her. She quickly put thoughts of that loathsome cretin out of her mind and caressed Ryan's cock from base to the head. She dropped to her knees, tucked her fingers into the waistband of his soaked jeans and before she slid them down, she sucked the rain from the crotch of his jeans. She rolled them down over his narrow hips and the wet denim stretched. She yanked on them harder, until finally they fell from his upper thighs, exposing the most impressive looking erection she'd ever seen.

"Oh, Ry," she murmured, transfixed with its circumcised, pierced perfection. She'd never seen a ring in a cock before. "Sooo, that's so hot." She flicked the ball on the piercing.

"Thank you."

"No, I'll thank you, rather."

Kristin fisted his cock in her hand and bent forward, licked his piercing first then inserted the head into her mouth. He groaned as her tongue swirled around him and took the full length of him in until he touched the back of her throat. She pursed her lips around his shaft tightly, drew it nearly out then quickly, she plunged down her throat. He tentatively touched her hair, holding the wet strands away from her face, but he grasped tightly as she sucked him off with longer strokes. He flexed his hips in time with her sucking; suddenly, he thrust forward and came. It surprised her. She hadn't expected him to come so quick. She swallowed his load as his spasms subsided. She'd never swallowed before with her ex, but the nastiness of sex with a stranger and out in the open like they were, she sucked him for all he was worth. It made her hornier and desperate thoughts raced through her brain, hoping that he had more.

"Sorry," he sighed, long and shuddering. "But don't fret, baby, just give me some of your sweet peach and I will be up for more."

"I want you to fuck me now." She stood, kissed his chest and bit his erect nipples. On tiptoe, eye-level with him, she said, "But tasting you just then, gives me reason to wait."

# # #

Needy passion came off her in hot waves and stirred his most primal instinct, the call for sex—crazy-wild sex. Ryan picked her up and placed her on a large wooden crate where he pushed her skirt up, jerked down sexy purple panties and spread her apart. She obliged most willingly, spreading even wider for him. Taking one of her legs, he rested it over his shoulder then grasped the other thigh and went face first into her pussy.

Although he had an orgasm moments ago, his cock twitched as he first lit in her musky taste and scent. He licked her with quick flicks of his tongue at the base of her glistening, stiff little clit, gauging just how sensitive she was. He increased the pressure of his tongue-lashing when she encouraged him by grabbing his hair and pulling fully into her delicious, saucy snatch. She mewled loudly, which only made him hornier by the minute as her ass squirmed across the wooden crate.

"Oh, ohhh, Ry, you do that sooo good."

"More?" he mumbled, licking her, tasting rain.

"Yes, yes....dammit, don't you stop."

To steady her, he slipped in one finger into her slippery wet heat, slid in another, which made squelching wet noises with each stroke. Gradually, he increased the speed of his tongue lapping along with his thrusting fingers. Then suddenly, she stiffened, caught her breath, pushed hard against his probing fingers and loudly announced her orgasm. Anyone who happened by them would know she'd came. He jerked his fingers out of her and wedged his tongue deep inside to taste the rush of her flood, gently sucked on her clit.

"God, that was good! Fuck me, fuck me now!. Show me what you Cali boys can do."

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