The Red Vest

She put on the CD, pressed the button then flicked off the light switch, darkening the room, the only light coming from the florescent light in the kitchen. "Come on Charlie, let's dance to Frank," she said, looking into Chester's eyes, walking slowly towards him, smiling, her hands held out in front of her reaching for him.

Chester stood up and walked towards Wilma, reaching for her, the terry clothed robe tugging at his shoulders, the sleeves above his wrists, the violins from the music filling the room and Chester trying to hide his erection and awkwardness as he walked barefooted towards her, the robe above his knees and hairy thin legs.

When she put his arms around him, pulling him closer, he put his arms around her, unable to hide the hard erection in his jockey shorts or not hear the soft moan she made when she felt it on her stomach.

"I love this song," Wilma whispered in his ear as they started swaying in the middle of the living room to Frank Sinatra singing, "I'm in the Mood for Love."

Chester could not believe he was dancing in a woman's apartment to Frank Sinatra and wondered if she had a brass bed like in his fantasy. He swayed with her, moving his bare feet next to her pink slippers, feeling her breasts pressed against his chest and his erection throbbing against her body.

"Mmmmmm," Wilma moaned, feeling his erection and his arms around her. "This is nice, Charlie. You feel so good and you're such a good dancer." She then moved her hand down to his ass pulling him against her.

"I think we're going to have sex," Chester thought, liking how she was holding his ass, feeling his lust growing like it did when he looked at his magazines, but suddenly growing nervous, wondering what to do with a real woman, trying not to panic.

As they danced, moving slowly around the room, Wilma's cheek against his, Chester glanced up at the clock in the kitchen, noticing it was nine-fifteen and suddenly remembered the last bus back to Bayonne left at ten-thirty. He suddenly remembered his mother probably wondering where he was. He always came home by six for dinner. He then saw the wet red vest draped over the back of the chair, his wet khakis draped on another chair, realizing his clothes were far from drying.

Wilma was humming into Chester's ear, her hands on his ass as they swayed in each others arms, taking tiny steps, her hands on his ass encouraging him to lower his hand to her ass--which he did, feeling the soft roundness through her robe, his erection rubbing against her body, his arousal becoming more intense, not sure what to do about it then suddenly surprising himself, he took her hands off his ass and lifted her hand over her head, took her finger in his and stepping back, twirled her slowly in a small circle, smiling at her, remembering seeing someone do that in a movie.

"Oh Charlie," she said, smiling, "You're such a good dancer."

"Thanks, Wilma, so are you," he said, pulling her back into his arms.

Frank had stopped singing and it was just the violins playing, the lush sound filling the darkened room. Wilma put her arms around Chester's neck, grasping her hands, pulling him closer, looking into his eyes. He did the same, following her lead then slowly lowered his hands back to her ass as they continued swaying to the music, the tight robe straining on his shoulders. Then Frank started singing again and Wilma sang into Chester's ear, "I'm in the mood for love, simply because you're near me."

"You have such a nice voice, Wilma," Chester said, unable to believe this was him, dancing with a woman singing in his ear, violins playing, Sinatra's voice, Wilma's words, her body rubbing against his erection, getting him more and more aroused.

"I feel your bad boy," she whispered, moving her hand from his neck to his ass rubbing harder against his erection. "Such a big bad boy," she whispered, the breath of her words in his ear made him tingle.

Her rubbing against his erection made him squeeze her ass and rub against her harder then suddenly, Wilma cupped the back of his head and kissed him hard on the lips and instinctively he did the same, their lips pressing harder, getting fierce, forcing their lips against their teeth, hurting. They continued kissing, holding each other even after the music stopped. Wilma moved her hands inside Chester's robe, grabbing his ass through the jockey shorts, while he did the same, following her lead, grabbing her bare ass, suddenly realizing she was not wearing panties.

Her tongue opened Chester's mouth and he did the same thing, learning from her what to do, his tongue swirling with hers, their kissing turning into madness.

Suddenly, she pulled her mouth away, gasping for air and he did the same. She then took his hand and pulled him down the hall to her bedroom and he could see Wilma taking charge, turning into a wild, wanton woman. "She may not be beautiful," Chester thought, "but who cares." They went into the darkened bedroom, the only light coming from the hall and he saw the bed, the brown headboard, "So what if its not brass," he thought as she threw open her robe and pulled him down on top of her, wrapping her legs around his back, her arms holding him to her body, kissing him and lifting her ass off the bed thrusting against his throbbing erection while he did the same, humping her as hard as he could, his bulge bursting to break out of his jockey shorts.

"Give it to me," Wilma yelled. "I want that bad boy!"

Realizing how much more experience Wilma had, he humped her while she grabbed the elastic band of his jockey shorts and pulled them down over his ass. He liked that she was leading the way, taking charge, going after what she wanted then he took over, pulling and wiggling out of his jockey shorts, pulling them down his legs and over his feet then tossed them across the room. He then got up on his knees, taking off his robe and tossing it on the floor, his big erection standing straight out over her. He looked down at her, seeing the dull red bush between her legs, her eyes looking at his hard erection and the excitement shooting through him when she yelled, "Take me!"

Suddenly he lunged forward, stunned and excited by her demand, forgetting about the last bus and his mother as she grabbed his throbbing penis, squeezing it and started rubbing her pussy with it, moving it up and down, "Ohhhhhmygod, ohhhhhhmygod, I want you!" she screamed, lifting her hips off the bed.

No one had ever touched his penis before or talked to Chester like this and he was quickly out of his mind, not caring about anything other than this hot body under him, the hand gripping his throbbing cock, rubbing the head against her soft wet pussy lips, the excruciating sensation bringing him closer to exploding, trying desperately to hold back and not climax too soon.

Suddenly, he reared back and thrust as hard as he could, entering her, feeling the tightness gripping him, her screaming inspiring him to thrust harder and faster.

"Give it to me," she yelled lifting her ass off the bed.

Thrusting harder and faster, grunting, feeling his body tensing, he suddenly exploded, just as she screamed, "Don't stop! Don't stop! Take me!"

But it was too late. He shot his load into her with three thrusts, shouting "AHHHHHHH!" in ecstasy as he climaxed and suddenly collapsed on her, feeling her body under him, panting, gasping, holding him to her, his limp penis still in her.

Neither of them spoke, breathing heavily but he knew he had climaxed before she did and could feel her wiggling under him, wanting him to do more, feeling her pussy gripping his soft penis then releasing it. She tightened her legs around his waist trapping his deflated penis in her. He could feel her frustration but didn't know what to do.

"Sorry," he whispered, wishing he could have lasted longer.

"It's okay. You were wonderful," she said, rubbing his back as she held him in her, squirming under him.

He then rolled off of her onto his back, laying his head on the pillow. She turned and placed her head on his shoulder, half of her body on his chest, one leg over his penis, her breasts pressing against him.

"Well, here we are Charlie," she whispered in his ear then kissed his cheek.

"Right," Chester said, swallowing, not sure what to say or do.

"This is so romantic," she whispered.

"Very romantic," Chester repeated, remembering scenes from movies where two lovers lay in bed, sharing a cigarette. "This is very nice--just like in the movies."

"You're right," Wilma said, "It is. You got me so hot. You're such a good lover."

"Thank you," Chester said, sensing she was frustrated. "I always try to be."

He felt her hair just below his mouth and he kissed her head, smelling her hair.

"Nice smell. Your hair smells good."

"Oh, my shampoo. It's just Head and Shoulders--nothing special."

"Well, it smells nice."

So Charlie, are you glad fate brought us together?"

"Yes. Good old Destiny," he responded, amazed that he was in bed with a woman.

"I agree."

"It's getting late. I wonder if my clothes are dry. I've got a ten-thirty appointment."

"Oh! Ten thirty? Really."

"Can't miss it."

"It's just about ten, now," Wilma said, glancing at the red numbers on the digital clock. "Oh Charlie, you'll never make it—your clothes ain't going to be dry yet."

Chester lay back on the pillow thinking about his dilemma. "I don't know what to do. I can't stay here even though I really want to but I don't have any money and mom is all alone probably worried sick and here I am in bed with Wilma."

Wilma played with the hair on Chester's chest.

"This is nice being in bed with her but I really gotta get going or I'll miss the bus."

"Too bad you have to leave," Wilma said, rubbing his chest, kissing his shoulder.

"Okay, I have to get going," Chester suddenly said, bucking and lifting Wilma. "I have to go."

Wilma slid off of Chester, looking up at him. "Oh don't go, Charlie."

Chester leaped out of bed, shoving Wilma aside and ran down the hall into the other room and over to the chair where his clothes were drying. Wilma came after him, wrapping herself in her green robe as she ran.

Chester remembered he had left his jockey shorts in the bedroom, but said, "What the hell," as he put on his wet khakis. He put his hands in the pockets and for some reason pulled out the insides of the pockets, feeling how wet they were and the price tag from the vest fell on to the floor.

"Oh you dropped something," Wilma said and dropped down on her knees to pick it up. She glanced at the small ticket in her hand and saw $52.95 and handed it to Chester. "Here, Charlie, it looks like a price tag or something."

"Oh right. Thanks," Chester said, taking the ticket and putting it back into the wet pocket, tucking it in.

He put on the wet plaid flannel shirt then bent down to put on his soaked socks and sneakers.

"You can't go out in those wet clothes, Charlie," Wilma said getting up on her feet. "You'll catch your death."

"I can't miss this ten thirty appointment, Wilma," Chester said tying the wet laces then standing up. It's really an important meeting."

"Oh, Charlie. Stay! Don't go."

Slipping on the wet red vest, sucking in his belly, trying to button the three gold buttons. "Sorry I have to run," Chester said, moving towards the door, his hair a mess.

"You can't go to an important meeting wearing wet clothes."

"I know but I have to," Chester said with his hand on the door knob. "It's really a meeting I can't miss."

"Charles, you look ridiculous!"

Chester looked back at Wilma, her words in his ears, feeling the wetness of his khakis, his flannel shirt heavy on his arm as he lifted it to wave. "I'll be back, Wilma." Chester yelled, "I'll be back," he shouted again waving back at her as he ran down the hall to the stairs. "I'll be back. I promise!" he shouted louder as he dashed down the stairs to the street, wondering if he would make the bus back to Bayonne.