Old Coats

I was in college, working hard and studying computer science, then I dropped out. The fact that I had developed a software product which made me a millionaire several times over had something to do with my decision to drop out of college.

My current girl friend and I have just had a rather nasty split up. A buddy of mine is in somewhat the same situation. It is near Christmas and my buddy and I decide we will spend Christmas week moving him into a newly purchased cabin in the Sierra. We will then ski a little and just generally raise hell.

We arrive at the cabin, dressed for moving duty and get his stuff moved in with considerable huffing and puffing. The weather is freezing, we have just finished and we sit down, dusty but triumphant with a bit of antifreeze. His not-so ex girlfriend suddenly breezes in, obviously anxious to impale herself on him. There is now one too many of us.

I throw my suitcase in the trunk of my Jaguar and start back for the city. Some 30 miles down the road, the Jaguar develops an illness, which becomes terminal just as I make it to a little burg in the middle of nowhere. Well, a little phone work determines that the problem is a defective part. The only garage in the little place is out of the part and it will be 'several days' before they can get the back ordered item delivered. I leave the Jag and catch the Greyhound back toward the city.

The people on the bus appear to be the cast of a traveling horror show. There are a couple of guys I am sure are ax murderers. The ax murderers have moved forward in the bus because they don't want to sit near the real hard cases in the back. There are two, no three cheap hookers and a couple of drunks. Well, you get the idea.

I am not too troubled. Despite the stereotype of the computer geek, I am a real third degree blackbelt in kung-fu. Besides, I have always prided myself on my ability to handle people.

Seeking a seat, I come upon Drunk Denny, trying to make a little time with the youngest, smallest, most scared hooker.

The hooker is trying to fend off DD.

I haul DD up by the scruff of the neck. I point out to DD that we are only 12 hours from the end of the trip and then he can snuggle up to his boyfriend. In the meantime, he can go up and sit with TB Tommy in the front of the bus, because if he tries to get behind me they will have to send someone out to pick up his mangled body off the side of the road. DD goes up and sits with TB Tommy. I mean, can I handle people or what?

I sit in the seat next to the small, now even more scared hooker. Actually, at second glance, I do not see her as a hooker. She is more likely a poor girl from some little town along the line. I say, "Really ma'am, I don't bite. I just had to establish a little authority with the creep. I am really harmless unless provoked."

The scared little girl flashes me a sort of desperate smile and we ride, side by side in silence.

I discover a copy of 'How To Buy A Personal Computer' wedged next to me in the seat. I ask the girl if it is hers.

She doesn't even speak to me, but just nods.

I point out that personal computers are my business. I also offer to tell her what she needs to know.

Despite the fact that she wants nothing to do with me, she is afraid to tell me to mind my own business. Instead she begins by asking me about the particular chip set she should select as the heart of her PC. [Take that, pretender!]

Instead of curling up in a foetal ball, I precede to point out that the rapid advances in CPU technology make any sort of choice something of a crapshoot. However, she should select a motherboard with the following characteristics . . .

We have an interesting conversation for the next couple of hours. She is obviously intelligent and spirited, when not scared out of her wits. I plan to try for a date when we get to know each other a bit better.

About then, the bus quits with a really nasty bang from the engine area. After the driver does a bit of investigating, he determines that the bus is totally dead. We will have to fend for ourselves until noon the next day. We are about a quarter mile from the nearest town.

We aboard the bus can sit in the cold bus with the cast of a horror movie, or walk.

I have suddenly become aware how long it has been since I have last eaten. I suggest to the girl that I am going to walk to town and get something to eat and that she should come along. I cinch the deal when I tell her that it will be safer with me than on the bus, in any case.

We get her suitcases and my suitcase off the bus and start to walk. I carry the two big suitcases. Hers is a Louis Vuitton bag of impressive style and equally impressive price. I make no comment.

When we get to the little town, we stop to try to get rooms. There is just one room which will be available when cleaned. Acting the gentleman, I let her have it, as if the landlady would have had it any other way. Worse yet, it is the only room in town. The landlady then tells us where to eat. Oh well, I can always sleep in the diner, we programmers are a hardy lot.

We walk to the place the landlady recommends. It is not a diner. Despite the remote location, it is a very nice country restaurant. I tell my lady companion, "The meal is on me."

When we get the menu, the lady kind of peers around the edge. The meals run about the same price as in a good place, back in the city. She asks shyly, "Since you were nice enough to let me have the room, perhaps I should buy the dinner."

I tell her that I insist on buying dinner. I tell her, "I may be wearing an old coat, but I made my money the new fashioned way. I write Windows XP applications!"

She laughs, a little silvery laugh.

She removes her coat, to reveal a simple silk blouse with wool pants outfit that would set back the average woman no more than two weeks salary. She sits back down and says, "I too wear an old coat, but I made my money the old-fashioned way, I inherited it." We laugh.

I say, "OK, then I'll buy the dinner, but you can buy the wine!"

She happily agrees.

I tell her of my friend and the chain of events which led me to ride the Greyhound.

She has had an amazingly similar experience. She had been driving from New York City, when her car broke down. She had not packed a heavy winter coat, because she wanted to get one when she got to the West coast and she would not need it what with the climate controlled heating in her car. When her car died, she bought her heavy coat in a thrift shop and then ran for the Greyhound.

We then talk over a wide range of subjects. She is in her element talking with an educated gentleman [well, I try the best I can.] She is not too shy when she is not fending off crazies.

She is to do some teaching and some research at a small, private university in my city. I know of the place and am able to tell her a little bit about the area around the school. I also suggest a real estate agent who can help her find an affordable apartment. She acts pleased, but I can tell that she is somewhat amused underneath the surface; she does not really need an affordable apartment.

We also talk about my work. She is aware of my software and asks a few polite, knowledgeable questions.

We eat and drink. When the dinner and the wine are finished, I buy us an after dinner drink. As we linger over the drink, she expresses concern about my predicament. I tell her that I will walk her back to her room after dinner and then sleep in a diner a couple of blocks further down the road. I say, "We programmers are a hardy lot!"

She says that she supposes that it will work, but that it seems to be a kind of mean way to spend Christmas eve and Christmas morning.

I tell her, "The dinner with you is my Christmas present for this year, . . . and a fine present it was."

She smiles at the little compliment.

I then walk her back to her room. I tell her, "What with the crazies on the bus, I don't want you to walk alone."

She looks at me and then says, "Very thoughtful."

When we get to her room, she invites me in ". . . for a drink." Unless she has a bottle handy in her luggage, I am about to get lucky.

Once we are inside and I have set my suitcase down, she throws her arms around my neck and says, "I am not going to let you spend Christmas eve slouched in some little diner." She is hot and cushiony against me then retreats away. She asks, "Are you ready to unwrap your real Christmas present?"

Together, we unwrap a taut little body which has obviously benefitted from aerobic dance. Her tits have obviously benefitted from genetics. They are the large, firm, super deluxe model.

I throw my clothes on the floor and strip off her panties as I lay her on the bed. I do not mount her right away, but work on her luscious tits for some time. By the time I start to really rub her pussy, I have a wild woman on my hands. She is breathing like a distance runner nearing the finish line. From the flow, I realize that she is super ready for my cock. I mount her and began to gently insert my rather large cock. To my amazement, I get all the way in on the first easy stroke. I move slowly and a bit experimentally at first. I find the best groove and we ride that to her first climax. Then I start the real work. I continue past the little orgasm she has allowed herself and catch her relaxed and unprepared. By her second orgasm, I am in complete control and we finish together at her third orgasm. I then dismount and lie beside her.

She sort of collapses after I finish and we cuddle for a while. I wait until her breathing slows to normal and then we get up and shower together.

She puts on a little semi see-through nightie and we go back to bed and sleep together until morning.

In the morning, we awake to the gentle sound of an 18-wheel diesel roaring past on the highway. It is too early to get up, but too late to get back to sleep. She discovers manually, that I am ready and suggests that, ". . . we just take care of that big nasty thing!"

This time, she uses some carefully honed tricks to bring me off as we both climax in a shattering mutual orgasm.

She showers first, then manages to only put on bra and panties by the time I emerge from the bathroom, fully dressed.

She takes her time putting on the rest of her clothes for a very appreciative audience.

As she pulls on her boots, she begins to scold me gently. She says, "You took advantage of a lady last night. If I were the shy little girl you thought, I would be your sex slave right now. Well, let me tell you, it will take several more encounters before I reach that status and then only if you are skillful and lucky!"

You give them 10 inches and they take a mile. I love it!

We check out and get breakfast before the Greyhound arrives. Then we wait, just two old coats cuddling against a cold Christmas morning!