Sunglasses, Sandals, Nothing Else

Dr Maarten, our instructor, took a call on his VHF handheld. He quickly sent a team of us scrambling over boulders to the crash site with a stretcher; I and other medics had our aid bags. We stabilized the injured idiot. Rotating teams of four hauled the stretcher to an access road and the county's waiting rescue unit and paramedics. Then we hiked back to resume our technical rock training.

That dumb-ass grunt would serve Uncle Sugar for the next six years without his ride. Duh.

=====

I rode the school van back to campus, cleaned up at home, pedaled my 10-speed Peugeot road bike into town, and invaded Paige's store.

"Hey Greg, what're you doing here? I thought you had a date." She inspected me.

"I'm free now. Want to do something tonight? Like, a date?" I was hopeful.

"Trying to impress your tenant, huh? Tell ya what, let's go Dutch; I'll buy pizza if you spring for beer and movies. It's sexy vampire night at the Cactus Drive-In. We'll have a nice view of the screen from the back of your truck."

"Sounds good. You're staying open awhile? I need to bike home now. How about, just before closing, you call in an order? Whatever you like; I'm not choosy. Then ride to my shack. We'll grab the pizza and enjoy a dinner-and-movie date sprawled in the pickup."

"I'll go for that. I have Luigi's number memorized. I'll see you at home." Yes, my home was her home too, for now.

We hugged modestly so as not to entertain the customers.

I pedaled home and studied, studied, studied. Paige's motorbike buzzed in as twilight faded. She stripped lewdly, cleaned quickly, and dressed in soft, abbreviated denims. I wore loose shorts and a phallic Saguaro cactus t-shirt.

I drove us to Luigi's pizzeria. He is Italian and his Native American wife Suzie is Arapaho; they called their kids A-wop-a-ho's, ha ha. Paige clung to the hot large pizza and the cold extra-tall bottle of Colt 45 malt we would share. I found us a prime spot at the drive-in.

I stashed the tarp, spread cotton sleeping bags on the pickup bed for comfort, and inflated a wide, fuzzy, blow-up cushion to lean back against. We shared pizza bites and the Colt beer bottle, swapping slobber with each sip, as on-screen vampires and humans performed pseudo-sexual acts. Women biting women — always hot!

We finished dining and scooted closer. The last of the Colt 45 rinsed our mouths. We kissed during slow scenes.

=====

We left for home around midnight; we could sleep later than today but Paige still had to open up by midmorning.

"Eight days a week," she joked, "that's our store hours. I'll break in the Densons — they're the new owners, run a folk music store in a college town down in smogland — I'll get them up to speed as soon as possible so I'll at least have weekends free. I want to spend more time like this."

"Like this" was comfortable. We sat naked in the not-too-ratty overstuffed armchair, her leaning back in my lap, my hard cock under her rather nice butt. Odd music from a French shortwave station swam in and out. We drank more cheap wine and snacked on apple slices. Any of my hands not holding sticky fruit or a wet tumbler was calmly stroking her nicely-textured curves and valleys. Any of her free hands rubbed my bare legs.

She turned to kiss me.

"I hadn't expected this when I asked to move in with you," she murmured between swallows and kisses. "I trusted you and I thought we'd just be pals with our own hours. But here we are and I won't whine. We're getting close. I love feeling your hands and mouth and the rest of you."

She just said the L-word. Was I ready to move past lust?

She finished her wine, licked apple juice off her fingers, and twisted in the chair to face me, braced on her knees, straddling my thighs. My stiff cock rose between us. She rubbed my back. I squeezed her butt. Her rather nice butt.

We kissed lightly, our noses brushing, our eyes open. This was no time for distance.

"Let's go to bed," I said. She hummed YES and clutched me tighter before rising with feline grace. I leaned forward to where she stood facing me, oh so near, and I licked around each wide, fluffy areola, and again.

"Only a little salty," I said, and suckled.

She laughed, pushed my head away, held my cock, and bent to lick my manly nipples.

"Not as salty as Fritos chips but there's more of you I want to taste.. OOHHH!"

That outburst was when I eased a fuckfinger into her wet pussy. I felt her, then pulled out and licked her juices off.

"Nice flavor, Paige. Now I want to savor the rest of you."

I was in command, right, so I readily let her pull me off the not-too-ratty armchair and lead me to the raised bed. She centered on her back and spread her legs, knees up.

"I don't have time for gentle lovemaking now. I really need to get fucked."

Her fingers massaged her juicy pussy. Her winking pink labia glistened. I smelled her arousal. My face tightened.

"Sorry there, little missy," I said in a lousy John Wayne voice, "but I've got my protocols. You'll just have to squeal when I make you squeal." Yes, I *was* in control!

I crawled on Paige's perky body to kiss her willing mouth and tickle her tonsils. I bit her slim neck and abused her firm tits, nibbling nubs as she gasped and moaned. She giggled as I smooched her French-style outie navel. She purred when I nuzzled inside her thighs, and panted as my tongue traced her tasty slit and invaded her musky pink depths.

"Oh yeah Greg, oh fuck baby, oh yeah, just like that..."

Stroking her legs and hips would be gentle loving... not our immediate goal. She groaned with my hands on her breasts and my tongue writing mystic formulas around her clit. She gasped louder as I prodded and sucked her love-button, and squealed with each orgasmic spasm.

She writhed when my fingers stroked her velvety vaginal walls, too, so I guess I was doing okay with her.

Her hands on my scalp held me close but eventually pushed my head back.

"Enough of that. Fuck me, Greg. Fuck me now. Fuck me hard. Fuck me good."

Who was in command now? Yes ma'am, I thought.

Knees up and wide, her legs formed a three-dimensional Vee, her pussy at the nadir. I hovered in place; she aimed me into her wet center. A slow slide put me balls-deep.

"Oh yeah," we murmured in unison. "Yeah..."

Her heels held my ass-cheeks and pulled me. My thrusts and faster pounding benefitted from that extra impetus.

Well, we both benefitted. You know how that goes.

Her arms wrapped around my back and her heels dug into my butt. She held me close, her breasts pushing into my chest, our mouths locked, our tongues and breaths shared, her orgasmic wails lost down my throat.

I changed angles to bump her clit for maximum effect. My tide was rising fast, too. I pistoned like a madman now.

I did not warn her before I jetted shot after shot of hot jiz deep inside her... that was what she was here for, right? I assumed she was on the pill. If not, well, I foresaw no shotgun wedding. Her folks were Quakers. Safe enough.

Our muscles clenched; we howled into each other's lungs. We had joined as one being, one life, with two hearts and a shared soul. 'Soul' means 'breath', y'know. Look it up.

Paige's legs held me and did not let me roll off. We were both tall and not fragile but I tried to not crush her under me; I rested on my elbows.

Our mouths and souls stayed glued. Our bodies, slick with a fine sweaty film, squeezed together, frictionless. Our sex juices mixed in a complex chemical brew... that leaked on the bedsheet. Oh well; I had more clean sheets.

"Oh babe, you feel so fucking good inside me, filling me up, damn! I could stay like this all night," she murmured, and kissed me again, "but we're kinda messy and we wouldn't sleep well, yeah? But I don't want to let you go. Just a little more, okay?"

My limp-ish cock tried to withdraw but she clenched her vaginal muscles, imprisoning and reviving me. I am no fast-recharging kid but I stiffened inside her.

"I felt that," she moaned. "I want to feel it again. More, baby!"

Now was the time for gentle lovemaking, missionary style. We held each other tight. Stiffened, I moved in and out of her with a calm pace, a steady passion. My balls were nowhere near ready for another surge but I sure enjoyed this endless fuck, yeah!

Judging by her moans and shudders, Paige evidently liked it even more. Her fingernails shredded my back. I took that as approval. Yes, sex is a blood sport. Good thing I am no haemophiliac.

I sped up and eventually came again, a thin, burning, almost painful terminal spew, all I had left. I grunted like a rough beast. She finally unwrapped her arm and legs and let me collapse beside her. We touched and wheezed.

"Oh babe, that was great!" She nuzzled my lacerated shoulder and held my fucked-out cock. "You said you had girlfriends. Can I be a girlfriend, too? At least for the summer? You won't kick me out, will you? Don't worry, the guitar is yours." She did not sound too stressed.

My laugh was as soft as my cock, but dryer.

"Yes, you're special, and yes, you can stay as long as you like, as long as I don't freak you out. I'm not an easy guy."

"And I'm not an easy girl, either, but I usually know what I want. I had to bribe you to get to you, didn't I?"

"What, you wanted me? Did you send signals I missed at the store?" I scanned my memory but came up blank.

"Once Dad said he was selling out, I knew you were my first choice for a roommate till I'm off to university. No other candidates came anywhere near. Don't get a fat head but you're more impressive than you think."

I had never thought much of myself, even with my manly square jaw, but I would not argue now, not with this well-fucked naked woman at my side.

I also knew better than to banter about her qualities. Why had I not tried for her before? I had no excuses so I said nothing of our casual past. Other thoughts drove me.

"Let's clean up, change the sheet, and cuddle off to sleep. Tomorrow is another day. You have the store and I have some chores. But the shower calls me now. I think we can both squeeze in."

We hugged, kissed, and rolled off the bed. Paige looked around the room.

"We should leave our sandals by the bathroom door so we can trot outside to dry every time." Damn, I had not thought of that. Color me dumb.

It was tight but we did manage to fit in the slim shower stall. Yes, we peed on our feet. Then she massaged shampoo into my scalp and I did hers; she purred. Runoff suds served as frugal body wash. Our delicate anatomies were carefully tended.

Air-drying outside took longer in full moonlight than partial sunlight but high-desert air soon dehydrated us... when we quit hugging, squeezing body parts together.

Coyote songs echoed off the sere foothills. Unseen creatures rustled around us, playing the life-and-death, prey-and-predator games of a desert night. Survival is the elusive prize that never lasts.

We snuggled on the tired sofa, shared a last tumbler of wine. changed the soggy bedsheet, crawled in together, and drifted off to dreamland.

.

===== Sunday =====

Think of the erotic story cliché: a guy awakens from a horny dream to find a mouth slurping his cock. I hereby testify, hand on my testicles (that is what 'testify' means), that this happens in real life. And not only with women — I have awoken being blown in Army barracks.

Alas, porno versions usually omit the full bladder behind the morning wood. My reality was bothersome.

I twitched and opened my eyes. Paige's fellating stare captured my gaze, locked on me.

"Oh fuck that's great," I moaned, "but you won't like what you'll have to swallow. Let me go pee and clean up first."

"I haven't tasted enough of you yet," she moaned around her mouthful. "A little more, okay? I'm enjoying this. Just some more." Her tongue tortured me.

I reached to hold her head and regretfully pull her off me.

"Okay, take your turn in there," she grumbled, "but hurry.'

I hurried thoroughly and felt restored when I came to bed, strong enough to pick her up, flip her around, roll under her, poke my stiff cock in her mouth, and grunt, "Keep sucking," before I tongued her pussy. Our first sixtynine!

She sucked, and pumped me with her warm hands, and shook when I taunted her clit. My hands pulled her rather nice butt close for my attack, then ambled down her taut legs, up her sleek flanks, and under her tempting breasts. Nipple-pinches and clit-nibbles really drew reactions.

"Mmmff mmfff MMMFFF!" she moaned in muffled joy before pumping harder and winning my own spew. I roared into her depths.

My tongue deep in her cunt; her hands at my ass, pulling me deeper; my hands cupping her breasts; my cock in her mouth, drained. What could be more satisfying?

(That answer is forthcoming. Stay tuned.)

We rolled on our sides with mouths and genitals still connected. I guess she liked my tongue and cock inside her as much as I liked being there. Our hands clenched each other's butts now, holding us tight.

That is when the wind-up clock's alarm rang. I was too busy to be interrupted; I let the spring wind down.

Paige broke our clench. She rolled off me and sighed.

"Damn, now we're all sticky again," she sulked, "so I'd better shower for work. Join me?"

"Get the hot water running and I'll be in with you as soon as I have the coffee going."

We crawled from bed, hugged and kissed slowly, and moved out. I started the coffee, then sidled tightly into the shower stall with her. The sun was up so we air-dried outside fast. Morning birds sang nearby. Bushes rustled with wind or restless creatures.

She had time to share a brief granola-and-fruit breakfast before dressing and putting away. My cheap, rickety chaise lounge out back, and a tall coffee mug, lured me to naked enjoyment of the already-warming morning.

=====

On to my Sunday chores. I dressed lightly, tossed the week's clothes and dank bedding in the pickup, and rolled to the closest laundromat. I restocked on cheap food and wine at the nearby bargain grocery. Whatever Paige added to the pantry would be fine.

The county fire station blared its daily high-noon alarm siren as I unloaded food at home and hung my wash to dry. No need for power- and coin-hungry laundry dryers when a clothesline and free sunshine are available, hey?

Now came my Sunday afternoon ritual, a brisk ride on the 10-speed to stay toned... much better than gym work. I retraced yesterday's cindercone drive. Only a few wary vultures eyed me.

I shot a 120 roll of Plus-X with my old medium-format Rolleiflex, mostly deep-focus landscapes with tight apertures and the wide-angle adapter. High-contrast filters boosted the drama.

Then back home to shower and lounge outside with iced sangria, wearing only sunglasses, sandals, and thin lotion. Developing the film and contact prints would wait for night's dark coolness. Too bad I had no room here for an enlarger. My next home needed darkroom space.

=====

I must have drifted asleep on the shaky chaise. I woke at dusk from that same horny dream to that same actual female mouth on my cock. My bladder did not block my pleasure. I hope her mouthload of hot cum tasted fresh.

"I love the appetizer but I'm ready for dinner," Paige said after swallowing. "Shrimp paella good for you?"

She had said the l-word again. I tried to not worry.

She stood and shook out the folded skirt she had knelt on. I pulled her close enough to kiss her exposed thigh. I crawled two fingers up under her pink panties, poked gently into her wet pussy, and tasted her juices.

"Don't I get an appetizer too? Inside," I insisted, "so we don't break this funky chaise." We ambled indoors.

"I didn't have to stay open too late but I'm pretty sweaty," she said, bent beside the bed, stripping as naked as me. "I should clean up before—"

"Before nothing," I interrupted. "I want to taste you like you are. And you can watch. C'mere."

I flopped on my back and urged her legs to frame my head. Our eyes locked. My hands found her tits and my tongue creased her labia — a sharp, salty, organic flavor, but not bad, not bad at all. I lapped for more.

Looking down, she could not really see me licking her slit from taint to clit, but she surely saw the fluffy mustache her bright bush made under my long nose and wide eyes. I steadily pinched and rolled her inviting nipples; she looked away, squinting, groaning, shaking.

I must have been doing well.

Her clit was stiff and springy under my oral assault. Her breath grew ragged, and raspy. Her body tensed.

And then Paige screamed, low at first, going louder, with sounds unconstrained by words. I easily heard her, even with tight thighs pressing my ears. Neighbors would have heard, had any been near. Nearby desert creatures probably fled in terror.

Another flavor filled my mouth, the taste of a woman beyond control, beyond sanity. The flavor of joy. I lapped it up like a thirsty puppy.

She swayed forward, almost limp, upright only because I held her rather nice breasts. Quite nice, actually. I eased her weight off my wrists and let her collapse beside me. She slithered into a hug and nuzzled my neck.

"Great hors d'oeuvre, she whispered. "I'll fix the paella now but I'll have a hard time waiting for dessert." She stroked my cock, only half-flabby after the excitement.

We peed and cleaned but did not bother to dress. Paige worked the kitchen; I watched her butt twitch, and fingerpicked the Ovation. Old-style harmonies sound different on a 12-string guitar, a honky-tonk feel when done right. While the rice simmered, she grabbed her sax and we tortured a few Scott Joplin rags.

Better wine washed-down the meal's tastiness. Then we kitchen-cleaned, switched to cheaper wine, and made more music. Our easiest, funkiest jams were 12-bar blues forms in various keys, rhythms, tempos, and moods, the heart of so much classic jazz and rock and funk.

We kinda swung. And her bare breasts swung enticingly with each breath. Bouncing nipples kept a steady beat.

I was getting to like this girl.

We played and drank and played more, and that was enough... we both needed rest for tomorrow. Then came dessert time, a long, tasty, noisy fuck. And then cuddly sleep, warm and cozy.

.

===== Monday =====

I had rewound and reset the alarm to give us time to start the day right. Take turns in the bathroom. Take turns on top in sloppy good-morning sixtynines — damn, I loved these juicy tastings! Share a shower and breakfast before dressing for our daily lives: my EMT vest and book bag, and her cute shop-girl garb under a biking jacket.

"I'll be home late tonight," she said, "so don't wait for dinner. I gotta go over store procedures and the business computer with Mrs Denson and her father — he's moving in and taking over from me."

"I won't starve and I'll save you some wine and super-duper mac-n-cheese," I promised.

After hugs and kisses, she zipped away on her motorbike and I drove my pickup across the road and into the school parking lot. Why bother driving so near? So when the VHF radio on my belt alerted me, I could quickly reach the ambulance barn an easy mile away. Did emergency calls disrupt my classes? Only a little. Instructors went easy on me because hey, it might be *their* family or friends I would keep alive. I maxed my coursework so that was fine. And I was respected in town.

It's good to be a local hero, even when the pay is lousy.

I scooted to my desk next to curvy Dalia Ortega in our late morning Earth Science class.

"I'm sorry I couldn't see you this weekend," she whispered as Dr Doheny sketched a seismic chart on the chalkboard. "Rosa missed you too. How about this evening?"

"I have a roommate now but sure, come on over."