Gulf Coast Condo

"What should I wear, honey?"

I felt a twitch in my groin and my throat tighten!

"The white silk blouse and black leather mini," I called out.

"With the red leather belt and shoes?"

My chubby started really going now.

"Perfect." I hollered again.

"Okay, out in minute."

I continued mixing our drinks on the porch. She liked a mixed cocktail while I just poured my whiskey on ice. My mouth was watering but not from the anticipation of the drinks. The butterflies in my stomach and slowing swelling cock were the result of 'game-day' jitters! That's what Jen called these outings---game-days.

What started out as sex 'games' had evolved from simple to complex. Not only had the rules changed, but so had the players.

"You want white cotton panties?"

"Right on, Sweetie," I dated myself with 60s slang.

And my position continued to rotate on the team, from star pitcher to utility infielder, and now designated hitter. Eventually, I suspected I was headed to player coach, or manager. At least I'm not the catcher! And I'll always be team owner as long as I stay on the topside of the turf!

I set Jenny's drink on the railing, took a deep swig of mine and gazed out over the Gulf. The Redneck Rivera my law partner called this part of the Florida Gulf coast, which he thought was funny. His place is at Sea Island, Georgia, which was a lot cooler, for sure.

"Hair up or down?" Jennifer sang out.

"Start with it up," I sang back.

Hey, if I were married to my law partner's wife, golf and bridge at Sea Island would be my preference, too. She was 'our age', and frankly, spending long weekends with women our; make that, my own age, was not appealing. After my divorce at fifty-something, I soon decided that ladies-of-a-certain-age was not my thing. Fortunately, I didn't have to limit myself to fifty-plus women, or even forty-somethings. I run daily, and can still wear my old uniform, have a full head of hair AND I'm rich, sorta!

"How do I look?" She sashayed onto the porch.

"Sensational," I smiled handing her the cocktail.

"Sin has nothing to do with it," she giggled.

I put down my drink and moved behind her sliding my arms around her waist, nuzzling her neck.

"You smell wonderful!"

"You are such a perv," she laughed. "You just like it because it's so musty, like a hooker's aroma."

"Okay, you got me. But I like what I like and I really like that fragrance."

"How do you like this?" she spun away and twirled around on her red leather 'strappy' high-heels, sipping her drink.

"I like it, and I luuv you," taking her in my arms and kissing her neck again.

She set her drink down and we smooched and hugged as the seagulls squawked in the background amid the distant roar of the ocean. My woody was poking her 'tummy' (her word), and I felt her breast swell under my palm.

"Oh, I see 'Mr. Woodson' is looking forward to the evening," she purred.

"Yes we are! You're in for a big night, too, I hope?"

"On honey, I'm so hot and nervous, I can hardly stand it."

"You're the hottest girl on Pearl Beach tonight, that's for sure."

"Oh, you really think?" She had a little nervous frown on her face as she stepped back, spun around again, looking over her shoulder at me.

"I KNOW, and trust me, I'm the expert."

"Well, you ARE experienced in these----activities, aren't you?"

She stepped back into my arms, looking up into my face.

"Oh, yeah, baby, I've been around," kissing her lightly so as not to muss her make-up. I knew the play.

"Okay, as long as you think they----the, ah, boys---will think I'm—sexy," arms around my neck gazing into my eyes.

"You are smoking hooot," I yelped and jumped back a step, shaking my hand like I had burned it on a stove.

She radiated delight and struck a model's pose, tits out, head back with a hand on the back of her neck and a hand on her hip with her fanny poked out. I'm the luckiest SOB in the world, I thought, as she started a little bump-and-grind, singing softly some little ditty that I didn't know. This really rings my bell, watching Jenny when she's in the zone like this. I could tell she had taken one of her little green pills and the empty cocktail glass told me that she was cruising at altitude.

"I'm starving," she announced. "What's for dinner?" She stepped in close licking my face.

"Let's go some place really expensive."

"Oou, I just love it when you talk dirty to me like that."

"Its kinda chilly," I warned, circling her bulging nipples with my palms.

"Back in sec," she darted through the sliding glass doors into the bedroom.

I poured one for the road and ambled through the second set of doors into the condo. Best $500K I've ever spent, I thought to myself, closing the door, and taking one last look out at the surf. From our second floor we have a fabulous panorama of the broad sandy strip and I could throw a rock into the surf, or I could have, back in the day. At high tide----during a storm—or hurricane.

I thought about earlier, when I sat on the porch and watched Jenny as she sunned on the beach, alone. Perfect place, small and cozy with fantastic viewing, I chuckled to myself as I adjusted my pants to accommodate my boner. She likes reading on the beach and I like reading on the porch. I enjoy watching her and she is an absolute exhibitionist.

"Are we a perfect pair or what," I crooned as Jen waltzed into the foyer wearing a very expensive black lace shawl that I bought for her in Venice.

"Say what, hon?" she asked.

"I was just saying that you are a vision of loveliness in that outfit."

"Oh, baby, don't you just love this lacey little cover?"

"I love you in it," I breathed heavily as I wrapped her up in my arms. Without the 'little cover' her boobs were clearly on display.

She gave me a full body hug, whispering in my ear.

"I feel a little guilty wearing it, because it cost so much."

"Sweetie, that rag is privileged to be on your perfect body"

"Oou," she squealed, riding 'Mr. Woodson'.

"Twelve hundred Euros is a lot of money, isn't it," she asked?

"For you, my love, only the best."

"How much is that in American dollars," as she slipped her tongue in my ear?

"Three times the price of those shoes, but whose counting?"

"You really know how to sweep a girl off of her feet, bad boy."

She's giving me a long, deep, hot kiss and I'm thinking:

"Its good to be the King!"

Cruising very slowly down Oceanside through the throngs of people in our little Mazda with the top down, sun setting over the sea, Jennifer with her head thrown back on the headrest, her black lace shawl open and exposing her luscious cleavage, with her little black leather mini riding up her legs so that it just barely covered her white cotton panties; she was in heaven, and I was in ecstasy!

"I just love this time of year," her voice oozing pleasure.

"The weather?"

"No, spring break silly, just look at all these naked boys!"

Jen was wearing big sunglasses so it was hard to tell what she was looking at, but in case there was any doubt, she said.

"Look at that one by the fire hydrant."

He was standing at the curb on her side about ten feet in front of our right fender, as we stopped for a red light. I counted four pieces of clothing; two flip-flops, one low-hanging baggy surfer-dude swim suit and a baseball cap turned backwards. Darkly tanned, almost six feet, rail thin in the body, but with well defined abs, muscular arms, sparse blonde fuzz all over, and he was staring at Jen!

"Ask him where the Admiralty House is," I suggested.

She raised her head off the rest, dangled her sunglasses in her left hand and called out to him.

"Hey, cutie-pie, come here," crooking her finger at him then reeling him in.

"He quickly looked left and right, then realizing she was talking to him, scampered over to her door.

"Can you tell me where the Admiralty House is?"

"Whoa, nice place, expensive though."

"You know it, then?"

"Yeah, I dated a girl that worked there. About a mile ahead, just past the pier on the water."

"Thanks, how about the hottest place to dance later tonight?"

"Captain Morgan's."

"Will you be there?"

"Gotta be 21 to get in!" I felt her electric shock across the car.

"Perfect, see you there at 11:00, Captain Kidd; my husband can't dance! I'll get you in the door!"

The light changed and I accelerated leaving Captain Kidd gawking at the car as we sped away. I saw him in the rearview mirror and Jen was watching him in her side mirror. Her face was glowing pink and I could see a rosy flush spreading across her décolletée.

"You are amazing," I told her.

"Hey, it was your idea," she said as she fished Mr. Woodson out of my shorts, leaned over, and starting bobbing on my knob.

All green lights the rest of the way and as we pulled into the familiar parking lot across from the Admiralty House, Jen popped my gleaming prick out of her mouth and smiled at the teenage attendant. He goggled at her as she pulled down the sun visor, looked in the mirror, and began touching up her lipstick. I took the ticket and pulled into the back of the lot, stuffed my prick back into my pants, then scooted around to hand Jenny out of the car.

She turned the walk back to the curb and across the street into a Las Vegas review for the attendant. She was stunning in her black & white, leather & lace, silky outfit with red accents, and I quickly figured the cost at about three grand+ (US). A real bargain!

Twenty bucks got us a quiet corner table for two overlooking the ocean sunset. Jen was clearly still excited and I was pretty hot myself. Her breathing was a little heavy and irregular and her color was still on the rosy side. She was looking at me with a very sultry look in her eyes, and said:

"Get me a drink, quick."

I flagged the waiter, ordered doubles, and she gazed out of the window at the darkening horizon as we waited for the drinks. I could see that her breathing was returning to normal and her blush was fading a bit. The drinks arrived and she took a long draft, paused, then took another and put her drink down.

Lowering her voice to a husky whisper, so that only I could hear, she said, "Do you want me to go first, or do you want to?"

I knew this play, which she called an 'audible'. She liked to talk about it, before and after. I also knew she wanted to run the play and my job was to 'go long' and let her scramble.

"You lead and I'll follow," I softly replied.

"Do you want to know what I was thinking about while I was sucking your cock?"

"Yes, what?"

"I was thinking about Captain Kidd."

"What do you think about him?"

"I think he is gorgeous."

"He's a good looking kid."

"He's just a baby!" she rasped a little and I could tell that she was struggling to keep her voice down.

"How old do you think he is?"

"He's under 21, and that's young enough," as she gave a husky laugh and took another long drink.

"So what were you thinking about with my prick in your mouth?"

"I was thinking about Captain Kidd's dick."

"What about it?"

"I want to know if he's uncut. Some young guys aren't you know."

"Really?"

"Yes, really, but there's one way to find out about the Captain."

"Jen, I think you know what's best."

"Oh, honey, do you think he would let me suck his prick?"

She was looking at me with a certain 'look' and I knew the cue.

The waiter came back and I ordered more drinks.

"I'm not very keen on our waiter," Jenny said. "He's not very cute." This was my cue to perform for Jennifer, if I wanted her to perform for me!

"I'll fix that," I promised.

"I like that one," and she nodded across the room to a strapping young black with Rastafarian dreadlocks.

"Why don't you powder your nose and I'll take care of it."

Jennifer got up, a little unsteady, and sauntered off. I motioned to the attentive, but 40ish Latino waiter to come over. I slipped him a twenty and asked him to send the maître d' over. He was there instantly, no doubt remembering the twenty I spiffed him to jump the reservations line.

"Look," I said, "don't hold it against Miguel, (our waiters name tag) but my wife is a bit nervous about illegal aliens, she's funny that way, so could we have that waiter, over there, with the dreads?" I passed him a fifty.

"Certainly sir, Herbert will be with you shortly," he assured me, bowing and shuffling away. Money is a great tool for making adjustments.

Jennifer came back fresh as a daisy and very chipper. She looked delicious and gazed expectantly around the room for the first time. She had regained her composure and seemed back in control of herself. I wasn't sure what was going to come next, as Jen dropped her black lace 'little cover' from her shoulders exposing her bare arms, deep cleavage, and perfectly formed breasts shimmering under her white silk blouse.

Three hundred Euros for the blouse in Milan, I recalled. Seventy five hundred (US) for the boob job. I felt like the clerk in Milan took advantage of Jennifer on the blouse, given that she sucked him off. He could have given her a better price, or even for free, but she wouldn't think of asking, since, "he was just so adorable!"

As for the plastic surgeon, 'best in Atlanta', but he was an old fat guy and Jennifer is very picky about fat people and I'm the only 'old' guy, meaning over thirty, that she will 'do'. I was a little sore about the BJ in Milan, since I was in Rome on business at the time, but she has worked real hard to make it up to me with a variety of games, so I have come to feel that I was 'almost there' (her words) for the event.

Anyway, I was contemplating all this as she surveyed the menu. Comparing the cost of the plastic surgery to the clothing expense I came to the conclusion that the surgeon cost over twice what tonight's outfit cost. And when you consider how much fun we have had with her breasts, compared to these cloths, well, the boob job was a real value! Plus she didn't suck a cock for it. Not that she would ever 'do anything like that' back home, "because I have my reputation to think of!" You gotta love a girl like Jen!

Herbert arrived with the drinks and Jennifer was prepared for action. Like I said, I had performed for Jen, and now she would perform for me!

Smiling up at Herbert, she says, "Tell me about the catch of the day."

Herbert is looking down at Jen with a professional look of interest on his face, but I'm looking at her with mouth-watering lust. The Milan white blouse did not contain much silk since it only tied at the back of her neck and in the small of her back. In the front, it covered her tits and belly, but was open from her throat down to the bottom of her sternum with her boobs spilling out in between. They were also bulging out the sides and although the silk was pretty thick as fabric goes, you could still see the outlines of the areoles of her nipples. When she gets hot, they start to stick out like erasers but I noticed that she was cool, calm, and collected as Herb went through the specials with his Jamaican accent.

"Herbert," she said, "if you could have anything here you want, anything, what would you like?"

I laughed out loud as she took a deep breath and looked quizzically at ole Herb.

I have to give Herbert credit, because with the Venice shawl down around her waist, and her taking a deep breath, her breasts were the dominating feature of the table. But he kept his eye on the ball, so to speak, and no doubt aware that I had already dropped ninety bucks in tips with a fifty dollar bar tab still growing, he was the consummate professional.

"Perhaps the oysters Rockefeller would be a good start?" He advised.

"My husband will have those as an appetizer, he's going to need them," she announced. "What else looks appetizing to you, Herbert?"

"Very good Madame, oysters for the gentleman," as he wrote it down, focusing intently on his writing pad. "And, the clams casino look excellent tonight," he declared, looking up and then intently into Jennifer's eyes.

"Clams? Do you eat clams, Herbert?"

"Certainly, I enjoy clams."

"Of course you do, but do yall eat them."

"Why yes-----we do."

"My goodness, I had no idea! But since you recommend them, I think I'll let you have your way with me, Herbert, and maybe I'll let you taste my clams."

This was too much, even for a smoothy like Herbert. He threw his head back, let out a hearty laugh, and grinned broadly showing a mouthful of perfect ivory white Chiclets. His dread-locks shook and swayed around his shoulders as he regained his composure.

"I think the lady is teasing poor Herbert," still chuckling.

"Well, perhaps, but we'll see about that later, Herby. I'll have the catch of the day and my husband will have the grouper. He likes group activities, don't you dear?"

Herbert looked at me for the first time. "As long as it doesn't taste too fishy," I said, handing the menu to Herbert.

She handed him her menu. "You are doing a splendid job, Herbert. And after dinner, I want to have a secret little talk with you. Can we do that, in private, Herbert?"

"It would be my pleasure," he smiled at her.

"Well, maybe, keep up the good work and I'll think about it." She inhaled and flashed him a big smile.

As Herbert retreated with dignity, Jenny and I suppressed our giggles, but we snickered and both took deep swallows of our drinks to avoid creating a scene.

"Is it my turn yet," I asked?

"Go ahead," she smiled and batted her eyes at me.

"What kind of secret meeting are you planning with Herbert?"

"I'm going to score some killer weed from him."

"Cool, and is that all?"

"That depends on the weed, but I never met a Rastafarian that couldn't hook you up."

"Well he IS working, so how are you going to hook-up with him?"

"He does get breaks, I'm sure."

"Yeah, maybe fifteen minutes."

"Well, there's a lot I can do with him in fifteen minutes," she promised.

We sipped our drinks as the last rays of sundown streaked across the Gulf and contemplated the evening.

"I think it's my turn, now?" Jennifer murmured in the dim light of our little corner.

"Okay."

"Honey, do you want me to suck Herbert's prick?"

"Is that what you want?"

"Oops, flag on the play," she giggled.

"How so?"

"Now, honey, you know what an obedient and loving wife I am. I can't do anything unless you say so. I do exactly what you tell me to do. Aren't those the rules of the game?"

"Yes, I want you to suck his cock!" I whispered.

"Okay, that's better. So, if you want me to suck his cock, are you telling me to let him cum in my mouth?"

"Yes!"

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I want you to make him cum in your mouth."

"Now, I think we're making some progress," she soothed.

"Good."

"And, so when he ejaculates in my mouth, should I swallow it?"

"Yes," I croaked.

"Okay. Now please give me my orders, my complete orders, so that there is no misunderstanding."

I noticed tiny little drops of perspiration on her lip, as I told her, "I want you to suck Herbert's cock, and when he cums in your mouth, I want you to swallow every drop of his semen!"

"OH," she chirped holding her hand up to her mouth, like she had hiccupped. "Oouuu," she let out another little sigh, almost a moan.

"I just had a little mini orgasm she whispered across the table!" then she settled back in her seat looking up at the ceiling.

I felt her foot sliding up my leg under the table, then her open toes wiggling against my crotch.

"So, I think you liked it too," she cooed as she ran a hand down the inside of her lapel and brushed her straining nipple.

"You had an orgasm without even touching your pussy?" I was impressed.

"Oh, honey, I've been building that one up since I spotted Captain Kidd on the curb at the red light. I've been savoring everything since then, wanting to get-off."