Remodeling Carla Ch. 05

The view was certainly breathtaking. "This is one of my favorite spots, "He continued, "On a warm summer evening, I love to come out here with a six pack and watch the sunset and the city come to life at night." Carla knew that this would become one of her favorite spots also. Standing, holding hands, George glanced at his watch. "You know, if we don't want to starve to death, we better go do some grocery shopping. My cupboard is pretty bare after being gone most of last week.

Hoofing it back to the house, they set to putting together a shopping list. The female influence showed. He had never had a list that included feminine products on it. He also bowed to some foofy smelling things like room fresheners. His place didn't smell bad; he guessed it just smelled too manly. He learned that she couldn't drink whole milk, but hated low-fat yogurt. There also weren't enough representatives from the fresh produce section. Finally getting the list completed, Carla ran upstairs to change and said she'd meet him out front.

George slid into the Buick and fired it up. The 400 cubic inches rumbled to life, emitting a throaty roar through the glass packs. He goosed it a couple times, letting Carla know he was waiting, not that it would speed up the process. A couple minutes passed until Carla opened the passenger door and slid as far to the left as was humanly possible. Even with the original bench seat, George was able to bootleg in a Hurst Speed Shifter. Carla never thought twice as she straddled the shifter.

"Buckle up," He told her as he grabbed her knee, pretending to shift.

Once they hit the street, Carla looked around the interior and commented, "Nice ride."

"Thanks, "He said. "It's just like the one I learned to drive in."

"Oh, so your Dad had a thing for cars too?"

"Actually, the car was owned by a woman, "pausing, "and not my mother."

"Oh really, "she said, "do tell."

"Well here goes, "he told himself.

"Actually," he began, "I never knew my parents. I was raised in an orphanage in Cincinnati. I'm told that I was a baby when I got there and I was there for eighteen years, when they could finally boot me out."

"Why weren't you ever adopted? "She asked.

"I don't know, too ugly I guess." That got him a poke in the ribs. "I don't really know, honestly. I know as I got older, my odds of being adopted went down, but it really wasn't all that bad, I mean, it's all I ever knew. The nuns were okay, but I think what made it easy for me was Gus."

"Who was Gus?"

"Well, Gus was like the maintenance guy. He lived there on the property and just did whatever needed to be done. Gus let me hang out with him and I kinda became his helper. It was an old place and there always something to do. I guess Gus really influenced me when it comes to building. He was an Old World type, born in Germany. He taught me what he could while I was there and I really think I learned more from him than I did from the nuns.

"Anyway, when I turned eighteen, Gus called his younger brother Hans to see if he could use an apprentice. Hans was a home builder and lived here in town with his wife Mary. It was her car that I learned how to drive. Mrs. Hartzog was great. She would drive around with me so that I could get plenty of practice. When she was with me, we got about 20 miles to the gallon. When she wasn't around, I think I got about 10. I actually lived with them for a while in an apartment they had above their garage. I worked for Hans for 10 or so years until he passed on. Mrs. Hartzog didn't last much longer. I don't think she knew what to do without him. Gus died a few years after Hans."

George heard a little sniffle and looked over to see Carla wiping a tear from her eye.

"Hey Sweetie, "putting his arm around her shoulder, "I didn't mean to make you cry. I mean, there is nothing to be sad about. I never knew my parents, but I had people who cared about me. I was sad when the Hartzogs had all passed, but I knew that they would want me to move on."

Blowing her nose, she sad quietly for a few moments. "I'm sorry, "She said, "I just got to thinking about my parents."

Thinking back, George realized that other than knowing that she and Frank were married just before they came out west, she had never spoken about her family. Recognizing dangerous ground, he asked, "anything you want to talk about?

Carla knew that she wanted to share everything with George, and now was as good a time as any.

"Well, "she started, "you know I'm from Kansas and that is where I met Frank. I was born and raised on a farm outside a small town in central Kansas. There were my parents and my twin sister Cathy. It was a good sized farm that had been in my father's family for three generations. It looked like it would end with Dad though because my mom couldn't have any more kids after Cathy and I were born. I guess she almost died during the delivery."

Pausing to take a breath, "Anyway, we had a typical farm upbringing I guess. We went to a little church every Sunday and we rode the bus to school in Salina. When we were little, Cathy and I were always close. We wore the same clothes and took great delight in the fact that most people couldn't tell us apart. Mom could tell us apart, but Dad never was sure who was who," she smiled. "In fact, when he wanted one of us, he just automatically called us both and then sorted it out when we got there. It was funny to us, but we knew it drove him crazy."

"Anyway, things changed when we made it to high school. Cathy sort of rebelled and began to hang with a different crowd. She didn't want to dress alike anymore, and at the time it made sense to me. She just wanted to be her own person, not one of the twins." Pausing again, "It didn't upset me at all, but I think it hurt mom to see us begin to become women."

"Cathy was a hand full for my folks. She was always in trouble at school and her friends were the same way. She did it all; tried smoking, drinking and I was pretty sure that she lost her virginity when she was 16. I think I saw what it was doing to my parents so I took it upon myself to be the good daughter."

"Well, right after our junior year, Cathy got pregnant and boy did it hit the fan then." Carla paused in reflection, "then about mid-summer when Cathy was less than two months along, her and her boyfriend were in a car wreck. Her boyfriend died and Cathy lost the baby. My folks did everything they could for her, but Cathy just kind of crawled into her shell and didn't talk to anyone."

"Our senior year started out rough for Cathy. She just went through the motions. She finally got it together about three months before graduation, and seemed to be her old self. We talked about getting an apartment together after graduation and going to the local community college for a couple years, till we figured out what we wanted to do. It was just like when we were younger and I know my folks were relieved."

Carla shifted around a bit, taking time to construct the rest of the story in her mind. "With high school out of the way, Cath and I were making plans to move out, then, almost to the day of Cathy and her boyfriend's accident, our parents were killed by a drunk driver."

Wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, she continued, "Our whole world just kind of went to hell at that point. Thankfully, Dad had his act together and they had a trust that spelled out pretty much everything. Dad had a friend who was his lawyer and he really helped us a lot. It took a couple months to straighten everything out. It was really hard cleaning out the house and trying to figure out what to save and what to get rid of. It was really hard on Cathy I suppose, because she was just getting over losing her boyfriend and her baby."

"Anyway, we sold the farm and with that and insurance, Cath and I both had a decent little nest egg. I decided to go ahead and move to Salina and enroll in college in the spring, but Cathy felt she just needed to get away; too many memories I guess. Anyway, she moved to Florida and enrolled in an art school. We stay in touch, you know, cards and letters. We haven't seen each other since then though."

Stopping to blow her nose, "I went to college for a semester and that is where I met Frank; you know the rest, I guess."

Holding her tight, they drove the last few minutes to the grocery store. Pulling into a spot, George slipped it into park and softly caressed her knee. Looking up at him, she whispered, "Thank you."

Needing no further explanation, he opened his door and stepped out. Carla slid into the driver's seat and grabbed the wheel. Striking a pose, her legs stretched taut reaching for the pedals, "Whatcha think?"

Her little shorts were pulled up her legs as far as possible and her shirt was pulled up a bit, showing a little midriff. Her hair hung loose, bracketing her face and the smile he loved was back. "Looks like our next photo shoot should include the Buick, "He answered, "its never looked this good."

Satisfied with his response, she swung her legs out and gave him a little glimpse of her camel-toe. Standing up, she followed his gaze to her crotch. Smiling, she pulled at the bottom of the legs, destroying his view. George frowned as Carla turned toward the store. As he followed close behind, admiring the view from this side, Carla made a quick turn between two cars to grab a cart. Quickly looking around, she mooned him, quickly pulling her shorts down and then back up. Laughing at him as she ran past him, pushing the cart, it took George a second to realize what had just happened and to give chase.

He caught her at entrance and rear-ended her as she waited for the automatic doors to open. He grabbed the cart handle with her wedged in-between and guided her into the store. Feeling his hardness poking her in the back, she jumped up, her feet on the back axle of the cart, her butt now at the proper elevation. He pinned her there, all the way to produce section before they decided that maybe their play was a little too obvious.

Getting down to business, George pulled out the list and they got to it. Carla was big on fresh fruits and vegetables, and couldn't help but tease as she came to the cucumbers. Their antics continued as they traversed the aisles. Every time he had a chance, George would pin Carla against a shelf or case, reaching above her to get something. She responded by grinding back into him. Their joy of shopping did not go un-noticed. The old men shopping with their wives smiled at the younger couple, while the wives frowned in disapproval. Given a chance, Carla would wink at the man, more than likely making his day.

Finally finishing in the meat section, Carla handed George a rump roast, joking, "here, squeeze this a while. Mine's getting sore." Laughing, he threw it in the cart.

Even in the checkout line, George was relentless. While Carla thumbed through one of the gossip magazines, George's hand was in constant motion running up and down her ass and occasionally wrapping around her waist, under her shirt to play with the piercing in her belly button. Giggling, she slapped at his hand and put the magazine back on the rack.

Finally out of the store and back in the parking lot, they loaded all the bags into the trunk. "Jeez, "George said, "did we leave anything on the shelves?" Tossing Carla the keys, George returned the cart to front of the store.

Back at the car, Carla was behind the wheel with the window down. "Hop in, "she said, tilting her head toward the passenger door. Crossing his arms and giving her his best 'stern fatherly' look, she relented. Pouting as she slid to the right, the little girl said, "Poop, I never get to do anything fun!"

Trying to retain the serious look on his face, George leaned in to the car and began tickling her. Carla squealed, not trying very hard to get out of reach.

Satisfied that he had regained his dominance, George got behind the wheel and reached for the ignition. Carla interrupted him by grabbing his wrist and as he turned toward him, she sprung. Her lips on his, her tongue probing for his, they made out like a couple teenagers until Carla leaned into the horn, alerting everyone within earshot.

Back in her seat and buckled up, they headed for home. Snuggled up to him, she said, "Thank you again for being such a good listener."

George put his right arm around her shoulder and pulled her in tighter, kissing the top of her head. With her head resting on his chest, she heard his heartbeat and willed hers to fall into step with his. Closing her eyes, she whispered, "I love you," and drifted off to sleep.

But a long nap was not in the cards. As Carla seemed to purr in contentment, nestled under his arm, his arm began to cramp up. Trying to move without waking her, he repositioned himself, letting his arm bend more at the elbow. Fortuitously, this brought his hand to rest on her right breast and unable to squelch his natural male inclinations, he began a slow rotational action, feeling her nipple hardening against his palm. Soon, he had no choice but to torment her rising little nubbin, tweaking it lightly between his fingers.

Carla awoke with an ache in her pussy. Carla, like most women she supposed, had nipples that acted like on-off switches connected directly to the valve that control the flow of her pussy juices; and George had flipped the switch. All things being equal in love and war, Carla let her hand search for his weak point. Finding it laying along the side of his right leg, she massaged him through his shorts, quickly awakening him too.

Sitting back upright, disconnecting him, she gave him a smoldering look. Pushing up with her legs, Carla slid her shorts and panties down to the shifter. Dumbfounded, George let her take his right hand and guide it to her soaked pussy. With her right hand holding his wrist, she moved his hand up and down, his middle finger gathering moisture with each pass. When she was sufficiently lubricated, George captured her vulva between his middle and index finger and squeezed as his hand moved, effectively jacking off her clit within. Carla controlled the pace, letting George control the pressure. Nearing the threshold, Carla picked up the pace. Looking at him, her lower lip quivering, she uttered, "Oh Fuck!" as her orgasm washed over her.

She held his hand tight to her, so sensitive that she couldn't take anymore. Her head dropped back against the seat, eyes closed. Seconds later, she lifted his hand to her lips, and licked of her residue. Watching him watch her, he licked his lips in want. Recognizing his need, she scooped two fingers worth of her juices and fed it to him. He suckled on her fingers like a newborn as she squeezed his cock once more.

By the time Carla got her panties and shorts back around her beautiful butt, George was pulling into the drive. Putting it in park and running his hand up her thigh, Carla unbuckled and reached for the passenger door. Stepping out, she leaned back in and said, "I am so going to fuck you, mister!" as she closed the door and ran for the front door.

Before she stepped into the house, she was jerked to a halt by a piercing whistle. Spinning to confront him, he merely nodded toward the trunk and said, "Groceries."

"Fine," she said, stomping down the stairs.

Fidgeting like she had to pee real bad, she grabbed more bags than she could really carry once he had opened the trunk. Almost nonchalantly, he followed her into the kitchen with the remaining bags. Carla threw her bags on the island, George relieved that one of his bags contained the eggs. Like a thoroughbred bursting from the gate, Carla took off for the stairs. Unbelieving, another load whistle pulled her up short. Glowering as she stuck her head around the door frame, he said, "You're the one who wanted all this fresh stuff."

Unspeaking, like the Tasmanian Devil in a Looney Tunes cartoon, she spun around the kitchen, throwing things in the fridge and pantry. Seemingly finished in mere seconds she stopped directly in front of him. Her eyes were filled with fire and her nostrils flared as she breathed heavily, "Are we done now? "She challenged.

"One more thing," he said, holding up his index finger.

As she stared at his finger, he grabbed her by the waist and picked her up and sat her down on the hardwood topped island. Not giving her time to protest again, he grabbed her by the back of his head and planted a ravenous kiss on her. Consumed with passion, she responded by wrapping her legs around his waist, unwilling to let him go.

Needing to breath, George moved to her neck and ears, getting the reaction he wanted. Meanwhile his hands found the bottom of her shirt and drew it up her body, stopping long enough to squeeze her tits and tweak her nipples. Carla moaned loudly and he could smell her desire through her clothing. Carla raised her arms to assist him, only to find herself shackled by her shirt. George kissed her again, holding her arms skyward, and then proceeded on to her tits, drawing her nipples into his mouth, taking them between his front teeth and pulling back slightly. Her hips bucked him, trying to force her clit against something hard.

Releasing his hold on her glorious breasts, he looked her in the eye as he slowly forced her to lie back on the island, her arms still wrapped up in her shirt. Freeing himself from her leg grip, he pulled her by the hips until her butt was at the edge of the counter. Grabbing her shorts, they slid down her thighs for the second time that afternoon. Nibbling at her legs as the shorts passed by, he pulled them and her sandals off and tossed them, uncaring, over his shoulder.

Taking a moment, he took in her beauty. Her chest heaved in anticipation of his next move. He didn't make her wait long. Dropping his head between her thighs, he held her legs at the back of her knees as he licked his way up each side to her lace covered treasure. Her juices beaded on the outside of her panties. He licked the excess off before he took her in his mouth and sucked, straining her juices through the material. Carla's tummy undulated as an orgasm rolled through her.

Satisfied that he was off to a good start, George stood upright and held her legs up between his arms, her calves straddling his head. Reaching down, he grabbed the tiny strings that made up the sides of her thong and slowly brought them upward. Watching him raise his trophy up her legs, he paused when it reached his lips. Carla mimicked him as he wrapped his tongue under the lace and drew it into his mouth, her tongue drawing an imaginary pair into her mouth. She breathed in deeply as he drained it of her remaining fluids. George pulled them off the rest of the way, nipping at each big toe as a finale.

Never one to rush a good thing, George slowly ran his hands up and down each leg, massaging them from bottom to top. In preparation for his final assault, George spread his feet apart a bit more and made sure they were firmly planted. Grabbing her by the hips, he pulled her up until her knees dropped over his shoulders. George then lowered his head and feasted on her. He drew his tongue to and fro, up and down encircling her outer lips. Straightening his tongue, he burrowed into her, his tongue lapping at her inner walls. Try as he might, he couldn't reach her g-spot, nearly dislocating his lower jaw in the attempt. Retreating, he ran his tongue between her inner and outer lips, lapping at her juices which now perked to the top like an artesian well. Carla's only contact to the counter was her shoulders and the back of her head. Looking up between her breasts, her lover lapped at her liquid center; the noises were deliciously obscene and the feelings better than that. But she needed more and he sensed it. Easing her down, he laid her parallel to the edge of the top. She posed as a veritable smorgasbord. Starting on one end, he shared his appetizer with her as she licked herself from his face. Moving down he sampled her breasts once more, succulent and firm. He nibbled his way down her stomach to her navel and he picked at it with the tip of his tongue. Nearing the entrée, his tongue grazed the periphery, that wonderful crease that framed the main course.