Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.
You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.
Click here
"RPG? Is that like Dungeons and Dragons?"
"Yeah," she answered, "it uses the same D20 system and even the same attributes."
I knew what all her words meant and even the jargon definitions, which surprised me, but I wasn't quite sure what they meant all strung together in that order. Nor did I especially care. What was important was finding someone who spoke my girl's geek language.
"Could you do me a favor?"
"Sure." She set down the tablet and I had her rapt attention.
That rapt attention and readiness to take on favors were the direct result my history of freely given gratuity. I believe strongly in a policy of tipping as well as personal finances allow whenever possible, because the hope/dread of tip money dependence is a feeling you don't forget. Jobs that garner tips tend to have inconsistent hours, low pay, or shitty conditions, making a decent additional compensation actually matter. Having worked jobs like that myself - jobs where tip money some weeks made the difference between having ramen with cotto salami or having club sandwiches with cheese and fresh fruit - I'm a generous customer now.
More selfishly though, you also never know when you'll want the dedicated service provided to a habitually excessive tipper.
"Could you put together a list of your favorite RPGs for me? Ones that favor statistical probabilities, skill and equipment leveling, and fantasy worlds."
"Who's the girl?" she asked slyly.
"Remember the one I left with last weekend?"
"The one with the animal print?" she answered my question with a question again, this time doubtfully.
"No, the blonde who got the beer dumped on her and her shirt ripped."
"Oh yeah. Huh. Timeline's a bit off there...?" That question she let trail off and redirected. "Nevermind. It's no problem."
"Thanks." I handed her another twenty to back up the verbal thanks. "That kind of shopping list is well outside my scope of knowledge."
"No worries. I'm mostly killing time while it's so dead here anyway," she dismissed me, already looking at some site with a large ugly bearded dwarf on the banner ad.
The bar was fairly quiet, understandably. Things couldn't be expected to be as hopping on Saturday afternoon as it would be in the evening. There were still a dozen or more women there, generally wearing more evening dress than day clothes. Most probably had the same idea that I did.
One sitting alone at the bar caught my eye immediately. She wore a dark gray business suit, slightly rumpled into hard creases in the back, like she'd taken a long flight that morning.
Her blonde hair was tied in a neat french bun and her makeup was conservative, but she gave me the same "she'll do" look that I gave her.
I sidled up to the barstool beside her and a Redheaded Slut appeared in front of me from the morning bartender. I appreciated the assist in identifying me to my new acquaintance, Rumpled Suit, but didn't think I'd need any help or gimmicks with this particular conquest.
To give Rumpled Suit her due, her shrewd eyes lit up in recognition of both what the drink was and the ramifications of a bartender setting it in front of me before I spoke.
"Hi, I'm Kay." I shook her hand without letting it go and rubbed my thumb over her smooth skin. "Do you wanna go somewhere? There are booths in the back. Or a hotel up the street."
Yeah, it's not a great line, but it's the shortest line between A and B. I expected her to answer yes to the hotel.
Like playing poker with other experienced players, it's fun and profitable to figure out what cards are in a potential short-term lover's hand. Based on her dress, time, location, and easiness, I put her on a closeted professional, returning from a business week spent on the other coast and trying to squeeze in some anonymous girl sex near the airport prior to returning home to her husband or maybe her cat.
Fine with me. Closet cases tend have their reasons, which I always respect. But they also have their benefits, which I unfailingly exploit.
I never got to hear Rumpled Suit's answer though, because Nic came steamrolling out of the back office like somebody'd kicked her puppy and she'd sworn vengeance.
"Hee, hee," I thought to myself, "Someone's about to get it." I had just enough time to wonder if one of the bartenders had been overpouring, or if Kay the bouncer had been accepting a drug dealer cut, or if...
Then I realized Nic was coming at me.
She grabbed me by the collar of my leather jacket and yanked me off my barstool. As I righted myself and readied to ask WTF, she hit me on the nose with a rolled up magazine.
"Bad." She hit me a second time. "Bad redheaded slut." Whack. I blocked the third with my wrist. "You will not cheat on your girlfriend in my bar, damnit."
"Stop smacking me!" I put both hands up defensively. "I am not a dog!"
Nic's anger tell is simpler than mine. As she paused in thrashing me about the head and shoulders, her nostrils flared and she shook her head slightly. Her afro and her snug khaki dockers shook too as she bounced slightly on the balls of her feet. Her chest rose and fell in heavy breaths encased in a green men's henley.
She'd be really hot, actually, if she weren't 5 foot 6 inches of pissed-as-fuck at me.
"Well, at least I'm not a literal dog."
She returned to thrashing me with the rolled up People magazine, despite my verbal protests and effective blocking. It didn't hurt, but it quickly verged on the ridiculous.
Kay the bouncer ducked her head in, guffawed, and backed out.
"Stop fucking hitting me." Out of patience, I caught each of her wrists in turn as I spun her, pinning her back into my chest and keeping her from using her arms to hit me.
"I'm not done." She drove her heel into my ankle, hard. "Let me go!"
I grunted, but my calf-high leather boots and jeans absorbed most of the impact of her sharp heel.
Kay ducked back in at Nic's screech, but more serious this time and firing off a warning look at me.
I released Nic entirely and immediately, took three steps back, and held my hands up.
"I'm sorry, Kay," Nic was still exhibiting her anger tells at full volume, so her apology while still glaring at me confused me, "I just lost my temper. It's okay now."
"Don't worry abou-" I started to leerily accept her apology.
"Not you, Kay! Her, Kay." Nic pointed to her bouncer, then pointed in an aggressively accusatory manner at me. "I am not sorry to you. I am angry to you!" She must have been, because that's when she messes up her prepositions.
Kay the bouncer backed out guffawing again.
"Let's discuss this in your office at least?" I suggested. Nic nodded, so I pressed further, "And preferably without you hitting me anymore."
"No promises." Nic opened the office door and gestured to the couch across from her desk, while she seated herself in her executive chair.
"Fair enough," I conceded, "Now can you explain to me why my picking up a rando has you so cheesed off?"
"Because you have a girlfriend now!" Nic shouted and threw a sealed box of push pins at me, which I deftly dodged. "You're moving her into your house for crying out loud!"
"But she's not here now," I noted, reasonably.
"You cannot not realize that it's contemptible to sneak off from your girlfriend and fuck some other woman while she's not around to catch you in the act."
"No. I didn't 'sneak off' anywhere. I mean she's not here with me. She's at work and I'm not, so I have to kill the hours somehow. What does it matter if I play tennis with some woman or if I fuck some woman? The time I can't be with her is lost anyhow."
Nic stared at me for a full 10 seconds. I didn't blink.
"How can you be so sweet and such a dog at the same time?" Nic seemed exasperated, "It would hurt her because she's a human being and that behavior hurts human beings."
"That's ridiculous, Nic."
"It is not!" Nic threw a staple remover, which I dodged as well. "When she got back from work and you guys discussed your respective days, would you tell her that you had a 'layover' with a strange woman?"
"Yes." I could see my girlfriend being hurt if I could spend time with her - doing anything - and chose to spend that time with someone else - again doing anything. Or if I was unsafe in my offtime escapades, putting her at risk for an STD/STI. But meaningless sex is meaningless by definition.
"You can't do that!" The stapler itself came flying next. In Nic's defense, she was running out of office supply products to throw at me.
"I can't be honest with her?" The labyrinth of irrational emotion I found myself stuck in began to irritate me far more than Nic's projectile conversational style.
"You shouldn't be cheating to begin with." Nic slowed her speech to make her point very deliberately. "But it would hurt her to know that you were looking for something outside your relationship. It would make her feel like she's inadequate for you."
I nodded. My girl has some deep-rooted insecurities and I don't want her to ever feel inadequate.
"Besides," Nic continued as she saw she was gaining ground, "What if you catch feelings for one of your dalliances?"
"Please." I scoffed. "The last fucking thing I fucking need right now is some fucking 'emotional' on the side."
"Okay." Even Nic realized that was a low risk eventuality. "How about this..."
She pointed to the closed circuit tv showing my intended nooner, who was busy picking up/being picked up by another woman at that point. Now, Nic has a legitimate need for the cameras for bar security, but also masturbates in her office to real time hookups in action, which is apparently completely innocent and not at all a betrayal of her girlfriend.
[My girlfriend has very clear rules which I follow. Plus, mind your business. - Nic]
"What if her husband," Nic's every bit as good at sizing up poker players as I am, "finds out his wife fucked a redhead named Kay who she met here? If he's the jealous type, how long would it take for him to find out who you are and show up at your door?"
"Longer than it'd take for me to file suit if he pulled any shit when he got there." I answered back readily. I'd dealt with angry lovers before. It was an acceptable risk.
"Yeah, but he's not going to find you." Nic came to her real point. "That sweet girl of yours - the one you're moving in with you - is going to open your front door to a raging husband. How will that be for her?"
That gave me pause. That could happen. Easily. What if cheetah-print girl's fiance decided he wasn't cool with her fooling around after all? We'd met. We traveled in adjacent social circles. Jenny'd be home alone the next week while I was at work.
"Okay, Nic. You're right. I won't do it again." I've no problem admitting I'm wrong when presented with irrefutable proof.
"Alright, then," Nic seemed dubious, but willing to take the win. "Now instead of being a degenerate cheater, how about you show me how to avoid paying taxes on the new property?"
Fight over, I switched to helpful friend mode, "You don't actually want to avoid taxes, but you'll mitigate cost by taking a mortgage instead of buying outright and deducting your points, closing costs, and mortgage interest - in addition to operating expenses, capital improvements, environmental upgrades, and depreciation - on your property taxes."
"But you told me to lease my bar in Tacoma? And I can deduct my whole monthly cost of a lease."
"You don't want to own in downtown Tacoma. Until someone fills the gap left by Russell Investments, the asking prices for leased property are going to stay pretty flat and property values won't appreciate at a decent rate. If that changes, look at buying, but not in your current building ..."
We spent the next few hours in refining Nic's plan to expand her business to Everett and intermittently mocking various patrons. Rumpled Suit apparently did not need to be taken to a hotel room, because she went under the table after a few minutes of making out with a pretty brunette in a shadowy booth.
I frowned, but Nic really was right. And I'd managed to burn the time my girlfriend spent at work in helping a friend sort her business issues, which I'd need to do at some point anyway. I stepped out of Nic's office dissatisfied physically, but moderately accepting the long term change in my sexual habits.
Kay the Bouncer gave me a list of game titles and a smirk as I left to pick up my girl from work. Ever since, I ping Kay for new titles every month or so and buy a few for my adorable geek.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Anne seems very nice and it's great finally getting to meet the last of Kay's close friends, but I never cared to know so much about wet sand.
It's not like I can think of anything but my girlfriend's two new toys inside me anyway. I keep stirring and shifting in her lap. Every time I shift, the toys change position slightly and drive me even crazier. To top it off, I'm getting increasingly uncomfortably warm between her body heat, the blanket, and my rising anticipation of how and when the vibrations will start.
Unable to take it any longer. I try to be graceful as I break and to get up subtly, mumbling so she can hear about washing my face, but that plan is shot down in execution. My girlfriend always keeps her word to me and, as promised, a quick shot of vibration runs straight from the egg in my pussy to weaken my knees as soon as I reach my feet.
I stumble slightly and feel my face turn redder. That toy packs a wallop. Hopefully no one noticed in the dark with the movie on.
She winks, but otherwise doesn't let on that anything happened.
I hurry on to a large bathroom. It's really a combination of a few rooms together for the different related bathroom functions, but everyone still calls it a bathroom. That's never really made sense to me, but is not my biggest concern at the moment.
Splashing water on my face at the sinks, I try to calm myself. So I can go back in. And manage to sit at least somewhat still through the rest of the movie.
I have a "well, as long as I'm in here" moment before I realize that I sorta have stoppers in me. But now it's too late and between my shaky nerves and the hours since I'd last eliminated waste. I have to go.
Inside one of the little toilet rooms, I drop trow and sit/lay on the little fainting couch to try and get the things out of me.
It's actually fairly easy to pull them out by the little connecting cable and a pretty pleasant sensation as well. But after I sit down and complete my business, it strikes me that I have a problem. I don't think that I can get them back in.
Neither of my jean pockets are big enough for both and I can't very well have one or both hanging out. If I tuck them in somewhere, I'll get lump questions that I don't want to answer. I can't leave them here where they could be found by the next person and I won't throw them away.
Dang it. If Americans would just adopt common usage of stillsuits, I wouldn't be in this mess.
I washed up and stood in a dither, indecisive on what course of action would be least embarrassing, and resolved that I'd text Kay and ask her to come help me.
"Hey, Blondie." Teeg saunters in. "Whatcha got there?" She waves at the connected plastic eggs.
Like a child caught stealing cookies, I hide them behind my back in my hands, hoping she hadn't seen exactly what they were.
My mouth opens and closes, but I can't think what to say.
"Aw. Okay, you don't have to show me." She's always pretty fun and jokey about sex stuff with me. Of all the women who could have walked in, she's probably the least uncomfortable. "But I might be able to help with the little situation you seem to have gotten yourself into?"
"How?" I set the eggs on the counter by the sink. Since it's her area of expertise and we kinda talk about these sorts of things, I'm up for suggestions.
"Here." Teeg pulls a small tube from the right leg of her cargo pants and sets it beside the eggs. "Good old fashioned lube. Raspberry flavored too. Not that it matters for this particular endeavor."
Hesitation grips me for a second. Everything in me wants to ask for Kay's help. Absurdly though, I think she'd be proud if I can resolve the issue on my own. Or at least with only an assist from Teeg.
I nod to Teeg resolutely, pick up the eggs and lube, return to the relative privacy of the toilet room, and drop trow again.
I squirt so much lube on the toys that they slip from my hands, but I catch them by the cord between them before they can hit the ground, which, although all the floors at Dr. Hartford's are spotless, would still be kinda grody.
With some care, I get the pussy vibe in securely. The other eludes me though, despite my best efforts. I couldn't leave myself literally hanging though.
I grunt, twist, and trip trying for a standing insertion, banging against the wall before righting myself. It occurs to me that aspects of my life are ludicrous.
"You alright in there, Blondie?" Teeg cracks up a little, "Didn't fall in, did you?"
"No, I'm fine." I'm not sure how to put the next part. "I'm having trouble, er..."
"Having difficulty getting a slender plastic sex toy through a tight sphincter, are we?"
"Yes," I admit in frustration.
"Okay, I'm gonna walk you through this real quick."
"Um," I consider politely declining, but I was already in a bind. "Thanks?"
"Not a problem, Blondie." She smoothly rolls into instructions. "Re-lube it, so it's nice and wet. Squat down and sit on your heels, relax your muscles, and push out with your ass while you push the toy in with your hand."
I follow all the steps but the relaxation part.
"So a blind man walks into a bar. No, that's not the joke. He meets three women, one blonde, one brunette, and one redhead. He works out a deal to take all three home, provided he can guess which is which... [Here begins a series of increasingly ribald jokes and bawdy limericks, designed to both distract Jenny so that she could relax and to comparatively normalize the experience for her, because Teeg has the same soft spot for "Blondie" that we all do. - Nic]
"I got it," I shout ecstatically, actually absurdly proud of myself now, merely because I managed get a smooth toy through my rim muscle. It feels so good in every sense nonetheless.
"Good job, Blondie. Let's head back." She claps me on the shoulder as I walk out triumphant. "You can hang on to that lube, in case your issue comes up again tonight."
I thank her as I wash my hands once more.`
"No worries, Blondie. Oh, and the punchline to that last joke is 'sugar, I don't know whose balls you were licking, but they weren't mine.'"
Teeg tells some really dirty jokes.
She walks me back in and I rearrange myself on my girlfriend's lap.
My pleased redheaded tormentor drapes the blanket back over me and whispers, "So, I heard you had an adventure in the bathroom."
I nod against her shoulder.
"Are you all settled inside?"
I nod again.
"Good. I'm proud of you, Sexy girl." I nuzzle into her at that. I like making her proud of me. "But you did give me a chance to get out the remote sooo..."
With only a moment to brace myself, a sharp buzz hits my nethers from both toys at once. It's over as quick as it starts though and I let myself feel relieved. Until she chuckles roguishly.
I know that tone. That tone means she's acting Chaotic Good while she's behaving Lawful Neutral.
Teeg and Nic must recognize the tone of her chuckle too, because they both turn their heads. Not fifteen seconds later, her phone - sitting on the little tray attached to the arm of our leather chair - buzzes with an incoming text.
She chuckles again, her arm moves, and the two toys go off together. I grit my teeth. It feels so-oh good, but it's so dirty to be played with in front of everyone. I breathe out as the toys stop abruptly.
