The Matrons of Regal Bay Ch. 44

The Matrons of Regal Bay

Chapter 44

Joan's Tales -- Part 3

The summer was going strong, and the crescent of sand that was the South Bay Public Beach was teaming with locals and tourists, students and families. It was Saturday afternoon and the temperatures were right at 90 degrees. Perfect for mid-July.

Along the boardwalk that fronted the beach were several seasonal shops and walk-up bars and snack shacks. Teagan O'Riley had ventured up to retrieve a fresh pair of drinks for herself and Joan, who remained stretched out on the white plastic public lounge chair, facing the bay and the dozens of screaming and splashing children, and Frisbee-throwing teens and young adults that were enjoying the summer sun. Out on the bay, several sail boats moved back and forth, their colorful sails billowing in the breeze. Joan had propped up a beach umbrella to shade her eyes, even though she wore dark sunglasses. Her flesh, usually quite pale, now glowed golden tan after several trips to the beach after the school year had ended.

"Get any bites?" Teagan asked in her soft Irish lilt. She handed the fresh Pina colada to Joan, who shook her head as she wrapped her red lips around the drink's straw.

"It's funny, really," Joan said between slurps of the cool alcohol drink, "the guys all look, checking out my body and tits of course, but when they see my face, and how old I look, they quickly look elsewhere, their sly grins gone in the blink of an eye. Really, it's pretty insulting."

Teagan straightened out the beach towel she had covered her own lounger with and then dropped down to stretch out alongside Joan. "What do ya expect? Bunch of duds, I say." She, too, was drinking a Pina colada, though she had asked for the rum to be doubled by the cute bartender. It helped that she slyly gave him a nip-slip as enticement. Teagan loved teasing young studs.

"Well, I still would like to get at least one guy to come along and say hi, at least. Shit, how many times have I fucked one of these stud-muffins out at the club, or at home for that matter? Yet out here, in public, those very same guys won't give me more than a glance." Joan all but finished her drink then, her frustrations showing.

Teagan patted her friend on the thigh, just below the hip-line of her red and orange bikini. "Don't think about it, love. We're here looking for the next big thing. Not worrying about those we've used and tossed out." Teagan laughed, and then noticed a young twenty-something guy looking their way as he headed up the beach from a recent swim. He was dripping with water and brushed his long brown hair back as his eyes travelled over Teagan's paler body. In the moment she expected his eyes found her ample bosom, Teagan deftly hooked her right top cup and lifted it, giving him a full-on view of her pink nipple.

"Like what you see, handsome?" Teagan asked with a laugh. His eyes grew wide for a moment, and then turned away quickly. "There's more where that came from, if you're up to it!" she added as he passed.

"Teagan!" Joan hissed a moment later, lightly slapping her on the arm as she did. Teagan turned to find Joan nodding off to the other direction, where one of the beach's many Safety and Security patrolmen was striding towards them. He wore sunglasses, the blue and tan uniform shirt and baggy tan shorts that the Sheriff's Department issued. His feet were in soft beach shoes, and around his waist he carried a radio, handcuffs, and a mace canister on a thick leather belt. As the officer approached, Joan hissed, "I knew you'd get into trouble, flashing your tits all the time."

"Hey! I don't do it all the time. Just at cute guys. You think he's cute enough?" she added, winking in the approaching officer's direction.

"Don't you dare!" Joan hissed.

"Don't dare what?" the officer asked as he knelt next to her. He was handsome, Joan immediately noted, though probably in his middle thirties. She also noticed he wore a wedding ring in that first moment.

"Oh, nothing, officer," she replied, though she still expected Teagan to flash a nipple anyway. She didn't however.

"Aren't you Mrs. O'Riley?" he asked Teagan.

"Not hardly!" Teagan replied harshly. "I'm Miss O'Riley. Mrs. O'Riley is my mother, God watch over her." Her Irish lilt in full song.

"I'm sorry," the officer replied. "I'm Greg Hamilton, Michael's dad."

It suddenly dawned on Teagan. "Oh! Mikey Hamilton's father. It's so good to finally meet you!" Teagan replied, offering up her hand, which Greg took.

"Yeah, I've heard a lot about you, from Mike and Kelly."

Teagan turned to Joan to explain. "Mikey Hamilton is one of my students. I tutor him on the piano, give him lessons after school a few times a week. Kelly must be your wife," she asked Greg.

"Yeah, she is." He looked uncomfortable for a moment. "I just wanted to say hello, since I've never really met you. And thank you for everything you've done for Mike. I really appreciate it."

"Oh, it's no bother, really. I just love Mikey, you know, and he's such a natural."

Greg nodded his head. "I hear that autistic kids are like that. They pick up music so much faster than anything else, some of them at least."

"Well, you can be very proud of Mikey," Teagan added. "He's a great kid."

"Thanks, again," Greg added as he stood up. "I'll let you two alone then."

"Hey! I didn't introduce you!" Teagan suddenly said. "This is my friend, Joan. She's a professor out at the university."

Greg shook Joan's offered hand. "Nice to meet you, Ma'am." He smiled warmly down at he, and Joan thought his eyes might have lingered a bit long on her breasts, which was fine with her. He was an attractive man, after-all.

Teagan knew Kelly Hamilton to be something of a house-bore. As far as she understood it, Kelly had never held a job, and did little more than what was needed around the home. In the year and a half Teagan had been tutoring Mikey on the piano Kelly had put on quite a bit of weight. And it wasn't attractive weight, either. She knew Greg was a couple of years younger than his wife, as well. It had never occurred to her that the deputy sheriff might be interested in her, or any other woman, until she saw his gaze lingering on Joan.

"Well, I guess I'd better get back to earning my pay," Greg smiled and started to walk away.

"Take care!" Teagan waved, and Greg nodded in reply.

"I know you're not interested in him, are you?" Joan asked a moment later.

"Not until now," Teagan replied. "I could make him very happy," she grinned.

"I'd bet you could."

"I think he might have been interested in you, my dear," Teagan mentioned. "If the way his eyes locked onto your fabulous tits was any indication."

Both women settled back to enjoy the sun in peace, and only when the sun was fully in their faces did they decide then to pack up and head for home. Teagan had a tutoring session scheduled at the music store that evening, and Joan had a dinner date with her oldest son and his boy-friend, who were in town for the weekend.

Joan lingered a few minutes longer, browsing the small shops along the boardwalk with the many dozens of other sun-tanned individuals who either lived in Regal Bay or were visiting. Some she recognized, others she didn't. While looking over a table-top display of painted seashells, Joan was distracted by a couple of young men laughing nearby. She looked over and thought she knew one of them. It took her a moment to recognize Paul Parks. After-all, she'd last seen him during an orgy at Gabriella's, and he'd been naked then. The other she didn't know.

"Hi! I know you, don't I?" Joan asked brightly as the two young men stepped up to the same table.

Paul looked up and she saw a momentary flicker of annoyance before his face lit up. "Hey! Yeah! I remember you. You're Jane, right?"

Joan laughed lightly. "Joan," she corrected. "And you're Paul, right?"

Paul turned to his friend and explained, "She was one of those I told you about, from the orgy. Remember, I told you about those four hot MILFs?" Paul turned back to her, grinning wide. He asked, "Been to any orgies lately, Momma?"

Joan was embarrassed by such a blatant question. It wasn't usually the first topic of discussion, especially in public. "Not lately," she answered. She suddenly felt that it had been a mistake, calling for his attention.

"Is she the one you said liked getting it up the ass?" the other young man asked Paul, though his wicked grin was turned her way.

Paul considered her for a moment, and then replied, "Yeah, I think she was." Joan felt ashamed by the way these two talked about her, with her standing right there in front of them, as if she weren't there at all. Not only that, but she had obviously been the topic of discussion among Paul and his friends, another thing she wasn't too keen about. The consequences of the life-style she had chosen to lead in her middle years, she knew.

Wanting to change the subject, Joan asked, "Are you still playing in the house band at the Olive Garden, Paul?"

"Occasionally," he replied. "I'm actually touring with a local band this summer. The Groove Thing. Have you heard of them?"

"Can't say that I have," Joan answered truthfully. "Probably not my style of music."

"Yeah, we play a lot of the classics," Paul explained. "Like Soundgarden, and Stone Temple Pilots, and Pearl Jam. That sort of thing. I sing lead when we do any Nirvana. People tell me I sound like Kurt Cobain."

Joan nodded. She knew the bands he had referred to, though she wouldn't consider them classic rock bands. "That's nice. Maybe I'll catch a show sometime. Where are you playing?"

Paul said, "We just finished a job in town, playing out at Clyde's before the girls hit the stages. We're heading out on the road tomorrow. Going to Boise to play a club next weekend. Should be great."

"Sorry, I won't be able to make that," Joan said. "I'll have to catch you next time you're in town." She lifted her shoulder bag and started to turn away when Paul grabbed her arm.

Paul suddenly said, "Hey! Why don't you come back with us, to our motor coach? I'll play you a tape from our show last weekend down in Redding."

Joan shook her head. "I've really got to get going. I'm meeting my son for dinner."

Paul was insistent, even taking a firm hold of her arm as he said, "It'll only take a few minutes. We're parked up at the end of the boardwalk, out behind the boat shop." He was referring to Daniel's Boat Repair and Sales, the first of several marina shops and service centers. "We'll only keep you a few minutes, enough to hear one or two songs. How about it?"

Joan was reluctant, but finally nodded. "Okay, but I can't stay long. I really should be going as it is."

Paul laughed and slapped his friend on the back. "Hey, Phil! Call up the guys! Let them know we're bringing a hot MILF back to the RV!"

Phil, as Paul's friend was named, pulled a cell phone out of his shorts and started to text, as Paul guided Joan into the public flow along the boardwalk, headed north towards the marina. As they went, Paul asked about her summer, as well as the other women who had been at the orgy. In particular, he asked about Gabriella.

"I really liked her," Paul confessed. "She really didn't act her age, or look it even." Joan wondered how he talked about her, though she could only recall giving him head during that evening back in May. She had been rather drunk, she recalled, and had been sodomized numerous times. Not that she hadn't enjoyed it. Paul very well could have been one who had taken her while she laid face-down on the patio lounger.

They eventually came to a large white RV, parked along the side wall of Daniel's Boat Repair. The shop was closed for the day, and there were a few cars in the lot, which had signs up warning off beach goes and board-walkers. "We gave old man Daniels a hundred dollars to let us park this beast here," Paul explained as he pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the door. Joan followed him up and in, with Phil right behind her.

It was much cooler inside the spacious RV's interior, Joan noticed. The lingering aroma of tobacco, both legal and semi-legal, was apparent in the air. The trash bin held several empty beer cans as well as at least one whiskey bottle. Jim Beam.

"How old are you, anyway?" Phil blatantly asked as he pushed passed and pulled open the refrigerator. He pulled out two cans of beer, and then gave her a look, as if asking if she'd like one.

"I'm 46, and yes, I'd like a beer." Joan eyed Phil as he reached back into the refrigerator to retrieve another can. Like the first two, it was Bud Light. She accepted the beer and settled into the bench seat that ran along the wall, beneath a wide window. Taking a sip of the cold beer, she appraised Phil. He appeared about the same age as Paul, maybe mid-twenties. He had a buzz-cut, two ear-rings in his right ear, and tattoos up both arms, from wrist to shoulder. He wore a gray t-shirt with the smiling Nirvana logo on the front in green. His shorts were dark blue denim, and in the style of the day, wore low to expose the plain boxer shorts he wore beneath. He wasn't too bad looking, she assessed. But he had something of an attitude, especially towards women. Or maybe it was just her, being old enough to remind him of his mother.

"You'll have to excuse Phil," Paul told her upon his return a moment later. He'd slipped into the back of the RV when they had entered. Now he returned with a clear baggy in hand. Several marijuana cigarettes were inside, one of which he removed and lit in a practiced move. "He's our bass player. They're all assholes, if you ask me." After a deep toke, he offered it to Joan, who refused with a smile and shake of her head. It went to Phil as he passed by and dropped into the captain's chair, which he swiveled to face her.

"You're an asshole, Paul," Phil retorted. He didn't offer anything to support this, however.

Joan waited a beat, and then asked, "Were we going to listen to your music?"

Paul laughed. "Oh, hell! That's right! I'd forgot." He leaned across the small table top and pushed several buttons on a console. A moment later, the heavy beat of a drum, followed by the rapid-fire rhythms of guitars, poured from hidden speakers. Paul turned it down just a bit. Joan recognized the music, though not the song. The singer started, but the recording was terrible, to the point you couldn't understand a word of it.

"Piss poor recording," Phil explained needlessly. "Not that it would help Paul's prissy-assed voice any."

Joan listened politely, sipping at the beer. Just as the song was ending, the RV side door opened and two more young men of the same age group climbed up and in.

"Where's the babes?" one asked over the music.

"Hey, who brought their mom?" the other asked upon seeing Joan sitting on the bench.

"This is Joan," Paul said, as if they had any idea of who she was.

"She's the one Paul says takes it up the ass!" Phil added. "Part of that orgy group of old broads he keeps telling us about."

"Bullshit!" the first new-comer said, giving her the once over as he passed, headed towards the refrigerator. "She's old enough to be your mother!"

"I still don't believe that shit," the other said. "Ain't no way Regal Bay has women who get into orgies and sex-parties. Just ain't no way."

"You might be surprised, then," Joan retorted. She set the beer can down on the table and stood. "But we like being treated with respect, and I sure as hell ain't feeling it here. Not with you wanna-bees."

"Wanna-bees?" Phil asked. "Wanna-bees what?"

Joan gave him a stern look before explaining. "It's very obvious, at least to me, that your four are "wanna-bees", as in wanna be having sex with this old broad. Am I right?" she turned to ask Paul. "That is why you brought me here, right Paul? You thought that since I put out in an orgy with a bunch of my friends and yours, that you could bring me here and I'd put out for your new set of friends. That is what you had in mind, isn't it?"

The answer was painfully etched on Paul's face. "Well, the thought had crossed my mind," he grinned.

Joan thought he started to look ashamed, and even sorry, for what he had assumed she'd be willing to do. He really didn't know her, and she didn't know him at all. What she did know, however, was that she was feeling a bit naughty all of a sudden. She hadn't been in the presence of four handsome young men, young men who might be ready and willing to give her a little something she was in dire need of, in quite some time. Hell, she hadn't been with any young man in over a week. Her pussy, after so many hours in the hot sun, with so many fine young hard-bodies walking back and front across her line-of-sight, however aged it might be, was in serious need of attention.

Joan looked around, taking in all four of the young men, before she blatantly asked, "So, who's going to show me their cock first?"

"Woooh!" Phil exclaimed.

"Oh, man!" one of the new guys croaked. But it was the tall, silent one who stepped right up in front of her, unzipped his shorts, and pulled out a thick length of flaccid cock. The other band-members began to laugh.

After taking in the sight before her, she turned her attentions to Paul. With hands on her hips, she sassed, "What about you, big man? Put your money where your mouth is."

Paul was quick, and replied, "Why don't you put your mouth where my money-maker is?" as he pulled his cock free through the front of the shorts he wore.

"Money-maker?" Phil laughed. "I doubt you could pick up pocket change with a little dick like that!"

Paul wagged his cock towards Joan, grinning as he did. She closed the distance between them, and when standing knee-to-knee with him, she said, "Now, this looks familiar."

Joan leaned over, bending at the waist, until her lips came into contact with Paul's presented manhood. It was now clean-shaven, unlike it had been back in May, giving it an image of extra length. Not that he needed it. She wrapped her hand around the base, gave the shaft a wag to brush the tip across her lips as she looked at Paul's eager face, and then opened wide. She lowered her mouth down Paul's shaft and inhaled nearly its entire length.

"Ooohh, shit!" Paul groaned. He ran his fingers into her blonde hair and took hold of her head. "She's got a fucking great mouth!"

"Hhhmmmm!" Joan hummed appreciatively around the dick in her mouth. She enjoyed the taste and feel of a hard cock on her tongue, and Paul had a hard cock. As she devoured him with jerky head bobs, stroking him with her lips, her beach skirt was bushed up onto her back and her bikini bottoms yanked down her legs. She stepped out of them as hands began to run up and down her thighs, and across her butt. The men around her were all muttering encouragements, insults, and all sorts of commentary that she had no interest in paying attention to. Joan wanted cock, and as many as she could get. For the first time in her life, she was on the receiving end of a five-dick gangbang.

Joan didn't bother to look back at who was standing behind her, rubbing a warm fleshy man-tube along her butt-crack. She released Paul's cock from her lips and began to suck his balls into her mouth. In that instant, the cock knocking at her vaginal doorway pushed forward, and she moaned happily as it popped on through.

"Uuunnngggg, yeeaahhh!" she groaned into Paul's nut-sack. She lifted her head as the cock bottomed out and she began to get fucked. She grinned at him, and then dropped her mouth back down his length once again. As hips banged into her up-raised ass, she was forced down onto Paul's cock orally. With every thrust of cock into her cunt, her head went down on Paul.

"God-damn!" the man fucking her roared. "For an old cunt, she sure is hot and tight!" She recognized Phil's belligerent voice then. "I could fuck this piece of ass all fucking night!"