What U Doing

"What U doing".

It was a typical message from Chrissy. She was a friend of my daughter and, by extension, a friend of mine. She was around twenty and quite a pretty and vivacious young miss. She was also somewhat high maintenance, liking people to attend to her. She had a tendency to talk a lot and she needed someone to listen. It didn't matter who, just someone. If there was no-one with her to talk to then her phone came out, hence the message on mine.

My guess everyone she'd tried to hook up with was currently busy and she'd finally come to my name on her list. Either that or she wanted to hit me for a few dollars so she could go and buy some cigarettes, a habit she was perpetually trying to break.

I sent back, "Nothing", and she promptly suggested I come and have a cup of coffee at her place, which wasn't too far distant from mine. So it was still either eager for some warm body to talk at (not to, but at) or those few dollars, which I probably wouldn't begrudge her.

I drove around and five minutes later I was knocking on her door. She was smiling and happy, almost indecently pleased to see me, and those few dollars lifted higher on the probability scale.

I was wrong. It was the willing victim who would listen to everything she said and agree with most of it, giving her some common sense advice if asked for it, which didn't often happen.

We sat in the front room and drank our coffee. The TV was on, with Jerry Springer destroying people's lives, but the sound was low as Chrissy didn't need anyone competing with her where talking was concerned.

She told me about her problems, many and varied. Her car was playing up and she needed to have it looked at. (This wasn't a hint to me, by the way, because I am a crappy mechanic. I'll look into the innards of a car and say with confidence, that's the battery, and that's the engine, and that's all I know.) She was unemployed again. She goes through jobs quite quickly, but always seems to find another one. That bright, vivacious, personality gets her the jobs. Her total unwillingness to be on time and at work every day loses them.

She touched on her sister with whom she was arguing again. Told me she wasn't talking to her mother, and that her twin brother was being mean. It seemed he wouldn't pay for her car repairs and she felt he should because he had a job. (He also attended his place of employment every day, arriving in a timely manner.) She'd also argued with her boyfriend, whoever it currently was.

Listening to this I was rapidly drawing the conclusion that my few dollars were safe. She just needed a friendly ear to vent into and mine was as good as any, better than most. I didn't interrupt her to talk about myself.

I'd been sitting on the couch while having my coffee and, after finishing it, I was sitting on the end of it with my arm draped along the arm of the couch. Chrissy had been sitting next to me in the matching armchair, and when her sob stories got under way I just moved my hand a few inches and patted her knee in an avuncular manner. Chrissy was wearing tights so it wasn't as though I was pawing her naked flesh, just patting her knee, and she didn't object.

I was idly watching the TV and listening to Jerry Springer while at the same time listening to Chrissy well enough to interject meaningful sympathetic comments. I was also, rather subconsciously, stroking her leg. I wasn't even paying attention to what I was doing and it came as rather a surprise to me to find that I'd stroked all the way along the inside of her thigh and was rubbing her mons and mound. With Chrissy not saying a word or doing anything to stop me. She seemed to accept it as her due.

She was telling me about an argument she had with a cop who had the audacity to pull her up for speeding when I took her elbow and urged her to her feet. She stood and I tugged gently and she moved around until she was standing in front of me. I took hold of her tights and just simply drew them down, her panties coming with them, lifting her feet to make sure they came right off. And all the time Chrissy kept on talking, apparently not even noticing what I was doing.

I turned her around and as soon as her back was to me my tracksuit pants and jocks were around my knees. I then encouraged her to sit, pulling her towards me. She was already sinking down onto me before her awareness left what she was talking about and focused on what was happening.

"Hey, wait a minute," she said quickly. "I didn't say you could. . ."

"True but you didn't say I couldn't," I said, interrupting her. "It'll do you good. What were you telling that cop?"

It was amazing that even in these circumstances she could be diverted from what was happening to talking about her trials and tribulations. I sort of encouraged her to settle down properly onto my lap, my cock rearing magnificently up and into her, holding her there nicely impaled.

That's all I did at this stage. Well, except from undoing her bra and holding her breasts in my hands. She sat there in splendour, a queen on her throne, still talking.

I've always suspected that Chrissy had a touch of Italian blood in her. When she talks she talks with her whole body, her hands, especially. If she lost her hands she'd be mute. As it was she kept talking, carrying on about her argument about a traffic ticket, getting more excited as she went, hands waving as she talked.

As you might expect this waving of hands and general bouncing about meant that the movements she made were carried down to where my cock was rubbing against her. I know I certainly felt each movement. I was willing to swear that my cock was swelling a little more with every gesticulation she made.

It wasn't all that long and her voice began to dry up as she was becoming more and more aware of my cock. She was starting to bounce now, my cock sliding smoothly back and forth, pleasurable to me and apparently highly exciting to her.

I was rubbing her breasts roughly, rolling them around under my palms, while at the same time I was pressing up into her with more and more force.

Chrissy was now exhorting me to do it, do it, do it, harder, please. I rolled sidewards, slipping off the couch at the same time. Chrissy naturally went with me and she finished up bending over the couch while I was kneeling behind her, still happily ploughing the field. Being somewhat freer to move I applied a lot more effort, driving in hard and fast, while Chrissy squealed and bucked and bounced, demanding more, and I did my best to give her more.

It was a given that I was going to climax. The way I felt there was no way I wouldn't. All I had to do was hold off on doing so while applying more pressure to Chrissy to bring her to the boil, two things that tended to be mutually exclusive.

I did my best, of course, and I was lucky that my best was good enough. Chrissy climaxed very noisily and as soon as she went off I stopped trying to hold back and let her have it.

We separated and I pulled up my pants and Chrissy yanked on her tights. She also immediately picked up her conversation from where she had left off.

"After I explained all that he still gave me a ticket. I couldn't believe it. It was so unfair."

She started sulking for a moment at the unfairness of getting a ticket for doing twenty over the limit in a school zone. Personally, I could see the cop's point of view.

She suddenly had another subject that needed discussion.

"Why did you just do that," she demanded. "I didn't say you could."

"You didn't say I couldn't or tell me to stop and it seemed like a good idea. You have an amazing skill." Flattery never hurt, even over something like that.

"You should at least have asked," she grumbled.

"Don't be silly," I gently derided. "If I'd asked you might have said no and then we both would have missed out on some fun. Don't you agree?"

"I guess," she said, still grumbling slightly.

"Anyway, what else has been going on in your life? Have you done all your Christmas shopping yet?"

That gave her something else to complain about. The price of everything when she went to buy presents. Totally unreasonable the costs of some things. She'd even given up smoking to make sure she had some extra cash, and this time she was going to stick with it.

In one way she'd been lucky and didn't know it. I'd been returning from dropping my brother home. If I'd stopped at her place with him then she may have been doing a little more bouncing than she expected. There again, what with the way she'd accepted me without any fuss and some rather avid participation maybe she'd have been right in with two of us playing with her. I'd have to find some way to suggest it.