I arrived home at the usual time with no suspicion of the events to unfold. Bonnie said, "You just missed a call. Guy said he went to high school with you. Name of Buford….. Rogers. That ring a bell?"
"Yeah. Shit, I haven't thought about Buford in years. He was a year behind me in school but we were on the track team together and I rode back from practice in his car. Huh. I can't even remember what event he did on the team. Neither of us were very good though."
I thought to myself, I do remember what a pervert he was though. I guess most of us men are perverts to some degree, always thinkin' about sex, sex, sex in some kinda way. Buford really wasn't afraid to let it show though. He talked to a whole bunch of us guys once, tryin' to talk us into each chippin' in $100 toward a video camera that he was gonna install in the girls locker room. $100 was a lotta money back then so I told him he was crazy. I didn't think the girls were even naked except in the shower and that they had individual shower stalls rather than one big room like us guys.
Bonnie said, "I gave him your cell, is that OK?"
"Sure," I said as I felt it ring. I pulled it off my belt, popped it open and said, "Hello?"
"Hey, it's Buford, Buford Rogers, remember me? High School, Track. Your wife Bonnie gave me your number and boy does she sound cute!"
Still a pervert, I thought to myself, wondering how many other guys would open a conversation talking about the other guy's wife? "Sure, I remember you. What's up?"
"I'm in town for a few days and wondered if I could take you and Bonnie out to dinner?"
How the hell does he even know I live in this city? I wondered, thinking that I didn't really want him to meet Bonnie. Nonetheless, I covered the mouthpiece and turned to Bonnie. "He wants us to go out to dinner. Would you want to go? It'd just be us talkin' over old times." I knew that if I phrased it like that, she'd shoot down the idea.
"I've got that thing with Sue and the girls, remember. You go ahead and go out with Buford yourself."
Damn, I thought, I was counting on Bonnie getting me out of this whole thing and now I'm gonna have to get out of it myself. I was searching for an excuse and taking my hand off the mouthpiece to talk to Buford again when the doorbell rang.
"Buford!" I said as I opened the door. There the sumbitch was, standing on my porch with his cell in his hand. Same kinda round, pockmarked face and slouched posture. Shiteating grin on his face. Still wearin' cowboy boots, ripped jeans and a western shirt. Stringy hair under a ballcap. Put on a few pounds and years since school.
"Dude," he said, snapping his cell shut and putting out his hand.
I shook it, a little nonplussed. Wondering how he got my address? Wondering why he was looking me up? Was he broke? "How's it goin'?"
His eyes shot over my shoulder and lit up. "Bonnie!" He called out. "Shiiiitt man, she looks grrreeaat!" He stage whispered to me.
I looked back at Bonnie. She did look great. Slender, blond hair in a ponytail, painted on Levis and a snug little tank top. "This is Buford." I said, still wondering what he was doing there.
"Hi," Bonnie said brightly, "Whose limo?"
I turned, noticing for the first time a long black limo parked at our curb with a large black driver standing beside it.
"Mine!" Buford said, with the huge shit eatin' grin back on his face.
Bonnie had made excuses and I had wound up agreeing to go out to dinner with Buford, "for old times sake." We were at a "beer, burger and fries restaurant". Not the nicest in town like you might think for a guy in a Limo, but one that catered to all the college kids. We had a booth in the back corner and Buford was openly ogling all the girls, just like the old days.
Turned out he had won one of those multistate lotteries a year ago and he was just out "runnin' around, havin' fun" as he put it. The limo driver was sitting with us, as was another small white nerdy guy Buford called "the fixer." He even called him "Fix." The driver was introduced as "Joe" and was huge. He had played Pro Ball for a few years. He smiled a lot and seemed pleasant but knowing the kind of shit Buford used to get into I figured that he was there as muscle to bail Buford's ass out when Buford pissed people off.
"Sheeit! Check out those two there." Buford said, nudging me with his elbow, a habit that I had found annoying even back in high school.
He was indicating a couple of young ladies, two tables away from us. They were both slender. The one with short blond hair and a pixie nose reminded me of a younger Bonnie, slender, tight button up shirt, small but perky boobs, pretty face. The brunette was taller, still slender, a little bit bigger boobs, long wavy hair. Her face was cute but had a permanent haughty, "I've got a wedgie" expression. Didn't look like she was ever happy with anything. "Yup, they're pretty cute," I said, feeling a little guilty to be ogling such young women. They couldn't be over 24.
That obviously didn't bother Buford though. When the waiter came over Buford asked him to put the girl's check on our tab. The waiter looked confused, I doubt this had ever happened to him before in that small time restaurant. Fix looked up at his confusion for a minute and said, "Here's what you do. You bring us their bill when they're done and we'll pay it. You stop by now and tell them that the 'nice gentleman' in the corner booth is picking up their tab and point to Mr. Rogers here. Tell them he seems "very nice and very, very rich." Fix held something out to the waiter, which proved to be a folded bill with the 20 visible at one end.
The waiter stepped away from our table, still looking a little confused. He moved slowly over to the girl's table, and then stood, shuffling his feet and waiting for them to finish whatever they were saying. He leaned down and spoke to them in a low voice, indicating our table. Their heads turned our way, blondie with confused interest. The brunette's eyes were flashing with anger. I was creeped out by the whole think and just wanted to slide under the table. I was thinking they might make a scene and glanced around the restaurant to be sure no one I knew was there.
"Fix," Buford said, "I'd like to see their titties."
!!!!!!! Well sooooo would I. But I had a hard time imagining saying it in such a matter of fact way. Buford was saying it like it could actually happen.
"OK," Fix said, sliding out of our booth and going over to their table.
Buford elbowed me. "Now you're gonna' see one of the miracles of modern money."
What! I thought to myself, He's not really going to have Fix offer them money to show us their tits, is he?
Fix was over at their table for a while. Right after he got there, he put a $100 bill on the table, folded so that it stood up where everyone could see it. I later learned that it was "theirs" if they would "just talk" to Fix without shouting or telling him to get lost. Nonetheless, the brunette kept looking our way and if looks could burn, we'd have been smoldering. I was embarrassed and it looked like the blond was too. I saw a flush rush down from her face into her blouse and she also looked furtively our way.
Fix kept talking and so did Buford. Oblivious to what was going on with Fix at the girl's table, he was pointing out other cute "chicks" in the place. He ventured guesses as to which ones were wearing thong underwear, which ones weren't wearing bras, which ones were virgins etc. Women who were there with men weren't spared his assessment either. He assessed their propensity to "go down," swallow and fool around with other guys. He concluded that a girl a couple of tables over had once "been double teamed" by two guys at once.
All of a sudden the two girls with Fix got up. I thought they were probably gonna yell at him or call for the police but instead after a few moments hesitation they went into the girls room. The $100 bill was gone off the table. Fix finished entering something in his Blackberry, then slowly got up and came back to our table. "How much?" Buford asked him.
"Four hunnert each," Fix said.
"Reasonable, for a couple of prime chiquitas like that." Buford said, rubbing his hands together under the table with something like glee.
What the fuck? Was all I could think to myself.
The girls came out of the bathroom and made their way slowly to our table. Something's different, I thought to myself.
Then I realized they weren't wearing their bras anymore.
They came to stand uncertainly at the outer corner of our corner booth. Fix indicated the two end seats and we scooted over to make room. They sat down, blondie looking around like a deer in the headlights and the brunette like she was ready to take someone's head off. However, after an impatient gesture from Fix, the brunette was the first to start unbuttoning her blouse. The blond looked around uncertainly, checking sight lines and the location of the waiter, then began unbuttoning hers also. They unbuttoned them to just below their breasts and then stopped. Fix spoke up, "You've gotta unbutton all the way down to your jeans or we won't be able to see." The brunette flashed us all another glare but complied. Fix took off his watch and set it on the table. I could see it was a calculator watch with its timer function displayed. "Whenever you're ready, ladies?"
The girls looked at each other, then around the room, then back at each other. Then they turned a little more towards us in the back of the booth and away from the room and pulled their blouses open, putting their boobs on display. The brunette's were a little big for my taste, sagging just a little under their own weight, pointing a little outward and one was a little higher than the other because of the way she was turned into the booth. The blonde's were perfect though. A big handful each, perched high on her chest with no crease under them to hold a pencil. Delicate "pencil eraser" pink nipples bobbing slightly from her motion. A flush rushed across them from her face. When I tore my eyes away to look at her face she looked mortified but determined. Then the timer on Fix's watch went off and they snatched their blouses closed, buttoning frantically, then getting up. The brunette snatched the sheaf of hundreds that Fix held out and they scurried out the door of the restaurant.
"Was that great or what?" Buford said, sinking back in his seat with a glassy look on his face. From the motion of his shoulder there was no doubt that he was rubbing himself under the table.
I assumed it was a rhetorical question, so I said nothing. However, I was stunned. My dick was hard as a rock but I didn't think that was a good thing. I felt guilty.
Buford kept making crass comments about the women in the place, occasionally nudging me and asking my opinion about one or two of them. "Oh, Man. She could ride me into the ground." He growled about a muscular young woman with short dark hair. She looked like she was some kind of exercise instructor, really in shape. She also looked like she knew she was great looking and was used to being stared at. She exuded the attitude that she was sick of all the men ogling her, but inside I thought she loved the feeling of power it gave her. "What'cha think?" Buford elbowed me. "Wouldn'cha like to see that spread out on your living room floor?"
"Not my living room floor. Bonnie'd kill me." I responded weakly.
"You might be surprised." He said enigmatically.
From there we went back to Buford's penthouse suite at the Hilton, had a couple of drinks and took a nap in preparation for a "Night out on the town." Buford led the conversation back to the blond and brunette from dinner, opining that the brunette had "perfect" breasts. I finally ventured that I liked the blonde's breasts better "because they didn't droop at all."
A few hours later we were in a "hot" nightclub that I had heard of but never been to because of their outrageous drink prices. Buford was buying drinks for anyone who caught his fancy and rapidly becoming a popular man. "Holy shit! Do you think those are real?" he nudged me, pointing at an attractive blond wearing cowboy boots, jeans painted onto her slender ass and a tight t-shirt over her moderately large and apparently unsuspended bosom. He leaped up out of our booth and followed her out to the dance floor despite the fact that she was obviously with the man in front of her.
Fix said, "Come on," and motioned me to follow he and Buford. The chauffeur stayed to keep our booth.
I felt very self-conscious, standing at the edge of the dance floor next to Buford who was partly on the floor, pretending to dance by himself and openly ogling the blond. I was afraid the guy with her might punch Buford out. Admittedly, I had a hard time keeping my eyes off of her myself but at least I looked around the floor at the other people occasionally. She was incredibly attractive however, and she danced liked she owned the floor. After a couple songs she left for the bathroom and we stayed there looking at the other girls. After a moment Fix left too. About 10 minutes later I felt a tap on my shoulder and she was standing right behind me with a big shit eating grin on her face. "I hear it's your birthday," she shouted over the heavy beat. My eyes went wide, but before I could deny it she leaned in, squeezed that incredible body up against mine, grabbed my ass and gave me a kiss, right on the lips. She even slipped her tongue in my mouth for a heart beat. Her boobs were mashed up against my chest and were certainly real, firm and marvelous!
My dick was hard as stone and my vision unfocused as she strode away toward her somewhat pissed looking dance partner, ass rolling with each step. She looked back over her shoulder briefly with a twinkle in her eye and a grin at the stunned look on my face.
When I got back to the table I asked Fix, "Did you pay her to do that?"
"Naw, I just told her you were shy, depressed, and awestruck by her beauty. I said you'd been mumbling about her like a love sick cow since you first saw her but would spend your entire life without the courage to talk to a woman as gorgeous as her. Oh, and that it was your birthday and you'd never kissed a girl that was even pretty. She took it from there. Girls like that like doing a little charity work once in a while."
On the one hand I was pissed to have been described as such a nerd. On the other hand, it had been one of the most exciting things to ever happen to me. On the third hand -- what if Bonnie found out about it?? I hoped she'd understand that I hadn't asked for it.
Fix had been on and off his cell the whole evening, often going off to the bathroom so he could hear, but now he was on the cell but waving toward the entrance. Buford and I turned to look. There was the blond and the brunette from dinner! They slowly and apparently somewhat reluctantly made their way over to our table and we made room for them to sit. Many heads turned to watch them cross the room. They were both wearing high heeled boots, miniskirts and loose pullover tops. No bras! They were made up for a night out and the brunette had her hair up -- they looked stunning. Cute at dinner, but they were a walking, talking hardon construction team now. Fix introduced us to "Amy" the blond and "Barbra" the brunette. Amy looked embarrassed and somewhat humiliated while Barbra still looked pissed off. I couldn't believe they were there -- even if Fix had offered them more money to come, they didn't look like the type to sell themselves. Buford was so excited he could hardly sit still and had them sit on either side of him -- I was pleased that Amy was between him and me. I mumbled an embarrassed hello to her.
I was trying to think of something else to say to Amy when I was distracted by what Buford was saying to Barbra. "So can I feel them now?"
Barbra's eyes flashed and I had the feeling that she was going to slap him, but then her eyes slid across the table to Fix. Fix nodded at her. She turned back to Buford and slowly nodded at him. He put his left arm around her shoulders and immediately reached up with his right hand and began pawing her breasts right through her top in full view of everyone. I saw her go rigid at first, her eyes darting out to crowd to be sure there wasn't anyone there she knew. Then her shoulders relaxed slightly and her eyes lost focus, pointing up over the crowd as if she was resigning herself to her fate. Buford would massage one boob like it was putty, then move back to the other -- like a kid with a couple toys.
I found myself transfixed by Buford and Barbra. I couldn't believe what was happening in front of my eyes. I also darted my eyes out into the room because I would have been mortified to see anyone I knew while I was at a table with such an ass. I saw people nudging each other and pointing at what Buford was doing. I felt embarrassed for them, especially Barbra as Buford had never been embarrassed in his life as far as I knew. Then I looked back at them like a mouse staring at a snake and unable to tear its eyes away. He had reached down and slid his hand up under her blouse to fondle directly, skin on skin. Barbra was blushing furiously and holding her hands rigidly in her lap while still looking out over everyone's heads. The nipple of the breast he wasn't working over was hard and protruding through her blouse, so he was having some kind of effect.
"Don't you want to feel mine?" Amy said into my ear. She spoke closely in my ear so that she didn't have to shout over the music and her breath gave me goose bumps.
Holy Shit! I leaned back to look at her. She was blushing madly and holding a rigid posture in her seat. "What?!?!" I shouted over the music.
She leaned back to my ear. "Don't you want to feel my boobs?"
My heart was pounding and I thought my head would explode but just the offer made me feel guilty. I leaned to her ear and said "No, no, you don't have to let me do that."
"But I won't get paid if you don't." Her voice had notes of both relief and pleading in it.
"No, Buford is the one paying, not me."
"Fix said that you liked my boobs and you were the one that was going to feel mine."
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Holy Shit! I couldn't believe he told her that.
"Please?" she said. "I could really use the money."
OMG! I looked out at the crowd again, checking for familiar faces. I could feel my own face getting hot but there was no way I could turn down a request like this! I didn't answer, just turned toward her, as if my shoulder could hide what we were doing and slowly slid my hand up over her firm abs and onto her lower chest. Confirmed, no bra! Another glance at the room and at Buford-Barbra. She was biting her lip and staring up at the ceiling. He had his face up to her ear, hand currently mauling her left breast. She still looked tight as a piano wire with her hands knotted in her lap. I moved my hand up a little higher onto Amy's soft right breast and began gently stroking it. I caught her nipple between two fingers and squeezed it a little. I looked up at her face, she was staring at the table, gasping in little breaths and still blushing furiously. But her breast felt wonderful -- as did the play of muscle underneath it as she twitched in reaction. I let go and trailed my fingertips back down over her to my own lap, noting that her own hands were in fists on either side of her on the bench of the booth.
She turned her lips to my ear again. "Fix said you had to play with both of them and spend at least 30 minutes total on them. Or I wouldn't get paid."