In Vino Veritas

We're on our first date, first real date. Not that staying in the apartment with Amy is a drag (you've read the stories...), but we live in a college town, and it's Friday night. Aside from all the sex (again... you read the stories), it has been a busy week. I spent as much time leaning over the kitchen table writing as I did lying under Amy, fucking. Once in a while you want to look at four walls other than your own, drink out of someone else's glasses, piss in someone else's toilet, whatever.

We're at Ballbreakers, a beer and jukebox joint a little off the beaten path from the just-turned-twenty-one college crowd. Amy's twenty, but this place would never card a woman unless her training bra was showing, and anyway Amy's not looking very collegiate tonight.

This is the first I've seen her out on the town, and yowza! She's only five-four, but tonight those athletic legs, coming out of that skirt—mid-thigh and just-right tight across her ass—make her seem taller. Her long-sleeve black top clings to all the right places. (I saw it laid out on the bed and I asked her how she would ever get that tiny thing over those tits. "You'll have to wait and see," she said. Worth waiting for, as it turned out.) She has those long, loose dirty-blond curls pulled up in a sexy do, tied just so. That neck will stir any man's appetite. Credit where credit's due: She's a head-turner.

And that's part of the plan tonight.

The whole idea of going out on the town came up after the fireworks—call them waterworks—of the other night. The next day—which was yesterday—her car landed in a repair shop and she had to work a shift in the evening. I drove her there, while she slept in the back seat. I had a light dinner where she works (nice place!) and went to a coffee shop afterward to read some Ibsen. On the drive back to my place she broke the ice, as she does most of the time.

"I don't know how to describe what you did to me last night."

"Squirting."

"I didn't mean that. I mean... where did you... when did you learn that?"

"Specifically, when and where?"

"Yeah."

"Why do you want to know that?"

"Because no one ever... did THAT... before."

"You mean never did it to you before."

"Right."

"And now it's all you thought about today."

"Fuck yeah! I tried to tell Denise about it, but-"

"Who's Denise?"

"The girlfriend who knows everything about me."

"That means she knows everything about me, I guess."

"Oh, yeah!"

I didn't have a response for that. I'm no Chatty Charlie, Cathy, whatever, when it comes to my social life and male friends of mine. The last guy who asked me some lame locker room-type question about my sex life, I made-up one of those 1-900 numbers and told him to call that if he was that horny. I'll talk about movies or Mickey Mantle's home run swing or Charlie Mingus albums, but that's it for guy talk. Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin never compared rim jobs. I'm not breaking that tradition.

Amy noticed the pause in the conversation.

"Is that okay, that I talk to her about us?"

"Baby, if that's what you and your friends talk about, don't let me stop you."

"We don't talk about just sex, not always."

"I get it, baby. That's your life. Whatever you do when I'm not around is your business."

She rubbed my arm where it rested on the gear shift. We'd both been busy all day and evening. We hadn't had any cuddle time. I missed those fingertips.

"So you told this Denise... what exactly?"

"About last night, about losing my fucking mind for two hours."

"And...?"

"She's never had a vaginal orgasm. She thinks g-spots are myths."

"That's what she said, even after you told her what happened?"

"I never told her specifically how it all went."

"Why not?"

"It's a silly reason. I don't want to say it."

"Okay... now I'm intrigued, even more than I was."

"You'll think I'm immature."

"No chance of that."

"Stop mocking me."

This time I rubbed her arm.

"Baby, I stopped thinking of you as a kid, a long time ago."

She leaned over and laid on my arm now, her head heavy against my shoulder. The windows were down a bit. The autumn air was on the chilly side, but refreshing as hell. We were quiet for a minute or so. Then she talked, still leaning against me.

"I was afraid if I told her how good it was, she'd come after you."

"What?" I didn't even try not to laugh.

"I'm jealous now."

"Jealous 'now?' Of what?"

"No guy was ever worth being jealous over."

She had to know this was coming, and I gave her no time to prepare.

"Not even judo guy with the big dick?"

"That was one night. I barely remember his name."

"Barely? So you do remember it."

She stayed quiet. I nudged her with an elbow.

"Of course I do."

"And you remember it because..."

She leaned in tighter. She put an arm across me and hugged me as much as she could.

"Mmmm... don't start this now."

I pushed her hand down to my crotch.

"It's already started."

"Mmm... Pull over and I'll blow you."

Tempting, but the road was too dark. I don't want to die for some head, even hers. But since she was hot for something, I saw an opportunity.

"Maybe , if you tell me why you still remember judo guy's name."

"Because it was only a few weeks ago."

I laughed. She knew the game, and knew when to break the rules. Clever girl.

"Smart ass."

"I know."

I stepped on the gas a little. The engine perked up and put just enough muscle in the air.

"Tell me why you remember his name."

"Mmmmmmmm... Because he fucked the shit out of me, all night with his big dick!"

She lifted herself up and tongued my ear.

"Jerk my cock, baby."

She started to rub it.

"No. Take it out. Jerk me off."

"Yes, Daddy."

She freed John Thursday and went at him hard and fast.

"Jerk me, but don't make me come."

"Okay, Daddy."

The drive between her job and my place is a dark one, nineteen miles of winding country backroad with dim lights every few hundred meters. No one was going to see John Thursday peeking up, with Amy's right hand working him slow and easy, her tongue now and then in my ear.

I reminded her that she wasn't the only one who had a great time the night before.

"You know why I came so hard last night?"

"Because you like knowing I got fucked so good, daddy."

She bats a thousand, this kid. I could feel JT stiffen even more.

"And why did you come so hard and squirt all over my bed?"

"Because I remembered how good his big cock was, Daddy."

"And if he comes to your job again, what's gonna happen?"

"I'll give him all the pussy he wants, Daddy!"

On we drove, the last ten miles a slow motion replay of the night before, except this time she had to hold it in, no squirting, no one screaming after midnight, muffled by pillows to keep the neighbors from thinking I was killing someone. Last night I gave her the thrill of a young lifetime. Tonight was my turn. I'd earned it.

I parked behind my place, with her hand still going. She was licking her lips.

"If he was right there at the back door waiting, would you blow him?"

"Oh god, Daddy, YES! I'd fucking run out there right now!"

"Do it!"

She went down on me. As soon as she sucked the head into her mouth, I gave her the load she love.

Inside, we ate the grub she brought home from work. At the kitchen table she was buoyant, curious. The conversation didn't veer too far off the usual.

"Can I ask you something?"

I gave her my standard answer to that silly inquiry.

"You just did."

"Ha ha... Seriously. I want to know why it doesn't bother you."

"Why what doesn't bother me?"

"Me talking about the boys I had sex with. Me talking about masturbating to my Dad so many times."

"Why should it bother me?"

"You're not jealous?"

"Sure I am."

She gave me the puzzled look I expected.

"Then how-"

I finished a glass of water and wiped my mouth. Things were about to verge on the philosophical.

"Turn a weakness into a strength. I'm a man, with a big, fat working cock, but all the other little boy bullshit every man has. I want all the pussy for myself. I'll never get it, just like I'll never read every novel, or see every movie. Should I let that keep me in bed with a sheet over my head, or should I teach myself to find a way to enjoy it all somehow? Once all that occurred to me, I taught myself to enjoy it."

She sat there rapt. Did public high school teach this girl nothing?

"How did you do that?"

"You really want to hear that story?"

"I do."

"Okay... I was married, young, when I was in the Army. I was twenty-one. It was okay for a year and a half. Then we started losing interest in each other. She was twenty-seven, realized eventually that my the size of my dick was not relative to the amount of maturity in my head. I was a sex-hungry immature shit, and it got to her."

"You mean she stopped wanting sex with you, because..."

"Young guy stuff. She just got tired of waiting for me to grow up. Think of all the college guys you see goofing off in class, the frat boy dickheads. That was me, but with a combat rifle and a steady paycheck. That's a much worse combination than late acne and a bad report card."

"I get it. But how did that lead to you and the no-jealousy thing?"

"We hadn't had sex in a while. One afternoon at a backyard barbecue I watched her checking out some guy, the husband of one of her gym friends.

"Did you get mad?"

"I got a little jealous, kept an eye on both of them. But it didn't go anywhere. I don't think the guy ever knew my wife was eye-balling him. But... at one point I realized I was hard as hell in my pants."

"Really?"

"Really. I went and jerked off in the bathroom, thinking about her lying there naked while some guy fucked her. After I shot off all over the bathroom, I sat there thinking, 'Whoa! What the hell just happened?'"

"It didn't it make you mad?"

"Did it make you mad when you were coming all over your bed, imaging your dad sticking his dick in you for Christmas?"

"No."

"Exactly. I might have been a young immature ass, but I've never judged myself too harshly. Life's about experience. I was old enough to know that."

"So you figured out that you liked jerking off to her cheating on you?"

"I sprayed that bathroom with a huge load, sprayed it all the way from the toilet seat to the mirror. So, yeah, I knew that I liked it."

She finished what she was eating and sat back in her chair, looking me in the eye with as devilish a smile as anyone can muster. I knew what was coming.

"Did she ever cheat on you?"

"Yes and no."

I satisfied her curiosity, telling her about the one time I convinced my wife to at least discuss what I saw and did that fateful afternoon. As it turned out, all she was willing to do was fantasize about meeting that guy. It was not her most comfortable night in bed. Our marriage ended not long after that. I went to war, she went home to her mother. No hard feelings.

But there was more to this evolution story. Amy would have listened all night.

"But my first girlfriend after the divorce, that's when the whole thing took off."

Amy's eyebrows shot up.

"She was willing to cheat on you?"

"We weren't exclusive, so it wasn't really cheating. She agreed to tell me about other guys she fucked. The first time, it really got me off. She liked that. We did it more often. I let it develop into whatever it was going to be."

"And what did that turn out to be?"

"I liked watching her face when she told me how good it all felt. Her face got me off."

"Did my face get you off last night?"

"Now you're learning."

She finished her glass of water. Sitting back in her chair, she looked at me, then the ceiling, then at me again.

"Whew! That's a lot to process."

"Take your time."

She got quiet. Then I watched her face take on a smile even more devilish than the one before. Her eyes twinkled.

"Do you want me to cheat on you?"

And that's how we ended up at Ballbreakers. Turns out the guy with the judo studio and the big terrific cock hangs out here some weekends, or so he told her, in case she ever wanted to find him again.

"And you want to go there because he might see you?"

I let her see the jealousy in my face when I asked her that. (That's all part of the fun.) She didn't miss it.

"Mm-hmm. Are you jealous, Daddy?"

I pursed my lips and looked away from her.

"You are jealous! Mmmmm..."

"Maybe a little."

"Jealous I might suck his big cock in the parking lot, Daddy?"

That's how the conversation went all that night. And now we're here, with a table near the door and far from the bar. We've had two drinks already. Amy, who says a certain cocktail makes her even more wild, is dancing with another girl, some classmate we ran into here. I'm a dancer but only when the music suits me. So far it hasn't. The crowd's too heavy for me to see Amy doing her thing, but I've got a great view of the restrooms... and of the tits on the MILF two tables over. (For the record, Amy asked me last night, amid all the cheating talk, if this was a tit-for-tat situation. Sorry for the pun, but I did mention that she might have to look the other way if I get an unscheduled blow job from an older woman with big tits. She said she'd think about it, but I didn't expect such a target-rich environment so soon.)

I'm already on record in this story as being a relentless tit man. If Amy were working tonight, I'd be telling a different tale here right now. The MILF keeps shifting in her seat whenever she catches me staring at her tits. I'd be a fool to stop now, but there she goes to the ladies' room. I salute them as she walks away.

Amy works her way to the edge of the dance floor nearest our table. I motion for another drink. She nods. I go to the bar and order. Payday weekend. Big bar night. I wait my turn. I'm watching Amy dance with her very friendly friend. Show me a guy who doesn't like watching his girlfriend and another girl on a dance floor. My foot just got stepped on. Thank you, pal. And I just got bumped on the shoulder. I hear a throat clear. I turn. It's the MILF. Nearly my height. Red-headed. Great jeans and a tight black t-shirt. Silver rings, none of them on the magic finger.

"Excuse me. So sorry." She says, with that smiling-but-not-smiling look. You can tell in the eyes.

"That's okay. It's crowded."

I look back toward the dance floor while the bartender takes her order. Amy's now in the far back corner of the floor.

"You teach?"

One of those shouted questions, a volume peculiar to bars. I turn back to the red-head.

"No," I tell her. Nearly thirty. Bald. Beard. I get that a lot around campus.

"You look too old to be in school, and I've never seen you in this place before."

I have to lean in to hear her, and to be heard.

"I study here."

She looks puzzled. She smells fabulous.

"Long story."

My drinks arrive.

"Two drinks."

"Yep."

"Maybe tell me your story another time!"

"Maybe."

I let her see me look at her tits before I brush her shoulder as I head back to the table. The dance floor is overflowing now. I have no eyes on Amy or her pal, but I do see the red-head make her way back to her table. She ignores me completely. I'm unofficially all alone now, in the most crowded place in town. I finish my third bottle of beer without much delay. I could look around guess if judo guy in here, but I feel a familiar sensation coming on.

The men's room line isn't worth the wait. I remember this place has a generous parking lot and plenty of trees on one edge of it. I head outside. I try first to get Amy's attention, but she's nowhere to be seen. I gotta go.

It's colder outside than I remembered but it cools the sweat. I take up a safe, respectable position behind a fat, dark tree. All guys know the pleasure of that first beer piss at a bar, but you can read the Book of Job by the time your bladder drains. (Freaky side note: I enjoy holding my heavy, limp cock whenever I piss. It feels... like a privilege. Maybe firemen feels like that when they're holding a water hose. Maybe I'll ask one.)

I'm still thinking about fire hoses, daydreaming, when I hear, "Bathrooms not to your liking, sweetie?"

I snap to and look over around the tree to my left. It's the red-head.

"Shit, I'm sorry. It was crowded. When a man's gotta go."

"And you're definitely a man, honey. I'll say that."

She's looking at John Thursday pumping all that piss on the ground. I look down at him, too. Big Red isn't done.

"Your little lady friends in there must be in love with that."

I guess I should feel awkward, holding my cock, talking to a stranger, outside in a parking full of cars. But I don't.

"My little lady friends?"

"The two college kids you bought drinks for. They sat down at your table when I was leaving."

"Oh. Yeah, that's-"

"You like 'em young. Just my luck."

I laugh. What the hell else am I going to do?

She has her keys. She's parked two spaces from the tree that's not hiding me very well.

I put John Thursday away and zip up. I come out from the shadows as she's about to get into her car.

"You have a good night, hon. Have fun in there!"

I nod and walk toward the bar. I hear her coming up slowly behind me. She stops her car. The window comes down.

"What do you study?" she says.

"Theater. Literature."

"I teach math."

"Always been my enemy."

We share a chuckle.

"Maybe I'll see you in the library sometime," she says.

"Maybe I'll take a math course next semester."

"I hope so." She puts up her window and drives off.

"Where'd you go?"

I tell Amy about pissing. Sherri the dance partner comes back from the bathroom and says hi, then bye.

"Work in the morning!"

She leaves us, talking in that loud bar voice. Amy has a smile on her face. Big one. I lean in so I don't have to shout.

"What?"

"See the woman at the bar, with the really long black hair and yellow t-shirt?"

I do.

"See the guy she's with?"

I see him, too. I look at Amy, not getting it just yet. He's too old to be judo guy, unless I got the wrong idea in my head when I heard that story.

"He looks so much like my dad that I thought it was him!"

I give her the "Ah, I see" face. She takes a glass off the table. I hadn't noticed that she had ordered another cocktail for herself. Four empty glasses on the table. I look at her eyes, her whole face. She's red-cheeked, loose, relaxed, in the moment.

I lean in for a little hot talk.

"That's not the guy I expected to see tonight."

She shakes her head.

"That's not my dad. Just looks like him."

Okay she might be loose and relaxed and in the moment, but four drinks have put her off her game a little. I smile and sit back in my chair. She gives me a confused look but she recovers like a longshot coming to the wire in the home stretch.

"Oh, that!"

I pat her on the hand and nod like a proud uncle.

"I didn't see that guy tonight. Sorry."

I lean in close.

"Fuck sorry. We're having a good fucking time."

This starts her second wind.

"Hell yeah we are!"

She leaps from her seat to mine and straddles me, shaking those magnificent tits against my chest.

"You like that, baby?"

I lean back in my chair as far as I can and let her lean in for more. We kiss. She grinds down into my crotch. We're drawing attention. I grab her ass and draw a little more.

Over her shoulder I see the guy from the bar and the long-haired woman sit at the table next to ours. Tall guy, gray-blond hair, cut short, full face but not fat, a sturdy guy, thick and strong, built like a guy who worked on a farm or in a garage most of his life.

I get an idea. I whisper into Amy's ear.

"You had enough drinks yet? How wild do you feel?"

She leans way back, looks me in the eye and smiles, and grinds her hips hard into me.