No Longer Bi-Curious (11)
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I plopped down in the BarcaLounger. I wasted no time texting Jean that my weekend was pretty much open. I had only two small jobs left on Donna’s to do list and she wasn’t getting back into town until Monday evening. Jean must have had her cell nearby, as she responded almost immediately and with no excess verbiage: Saturday, 4:30, casual dress, bring a bathing suit.I felt like I needed a shower. I had headed downtown to the rescue mission with a bushel basket of co-op vegetables immediately after finishing shopvaccing the garage, plus I hadn’t washed the nicotine tainted saliva of the Dive employee off Old Dan. I grabbed a bottle of Coors Light in a plastic bottle and headed to the master bath shower. Over the years I had discovered that the most sure fire way to wind down after a stressful day was to sip on a cold beer while taking a long hot shower. Donna had laughingly told me this was the guy equivalent of her long bubble baths, often with classical music playing and a glass of Chardonnay in hand.I stripped down and gave the shower a minute or three to warm up. I’m not a particularly vain person, but I thought the forty-five year old guy staring back at me from the full length door mirror looked pretty damn good. Yes, I had some early graying at the temples, but otherwise I still had a full head of black hair. Due to good genetics and metabolism, I’d been able to maintain a weight of around 195# on my 6’ 2” frame. My manhood hung limply down a respectable five inches and my ball sac contained two large Rhode Island Red eggs. On the other hand, my six pack wasn’t as well sınırsız gaziantep escort defined as it once was; probably due to the many twelve packs of that addictive amber liquid I was standing there sipping.The warm water was relaxing. I lathered up and spent extra time on my pecs: flexing them, then cupping them like man boobs. My thumbs strayed to the hardening nipples. I traced small circles around the areolae, then lightly tickled the very tips. This sent shivers down my body and communicated a signal to my cock that it was time to play. Simultaneously I lowered my soapy right hand down my chest and belly, while the left shifted to my right nipple. Using my index finger and thumb, I first rolled the now pert nipple like a pea; then added tension, pulling it to its limit. To many this would be painful, but I needed this intense stimulation to insure my love stick would be ready for a workout.I shifted my fingers from my belly to the two inch wide landing strip manscaped above my pubis, stopping only briefly to add another squirt of Dove body wash. I worked this around the half inch long curly pubes and drifted my finger tips down over the top of my semi-hard dick. When I reached the collar just short of my expanding mushroom, my fingers encircled the shaft almost reflexively; presumably from years and years of practice. With only two or three combined pelvic humps and fist pumps, I was stiff as a board.I knew the chances of reaching nirvana were only 50% at best, given that I had just shot my gaziantep sınırsız escort bayan wad only ninety minutes or so earlier. Never-the-less, I was up (no pun intended) to the challenge.I grabbed the Coors that had been sitting as lonely as a yard gnome in the shampoo niche and chugged it. I replaced the empty bottle, grabbed the Dove body wash and rotated 180 degrees to prevent the shower spray from washing away the lubricating suds from my sex machine.I closed my eyes, slipped my soapy left long finger into my awaiting anus and jerked my rod. I thought about my wife Donna’s tiny pink pussy and Jean’s hungry mouth. I thought about bending Roy over a kitchen counter, sliding my dripping cock up his ass and fucking him until the cows came home. This fantasy finally sent me over the edge. I shot a huge load toward the shower drain and slumped forward, my finger still buried knuckle deep in my ass with the tip over-stimulating my sensitive swollen prostate.It was a busy week: multiple difficult installations requiring overtime Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. Each night I grabbed a brew out of the frig, ordered in and fell asleep in front of the tube. When quitting time rolled around at the end of the week, TGIF truly applied. I briefly entertained stopping at the ABS on the way home, but my heart and nuts just weren’t in it. I was starving anyway.I gassed up at the out-lot pumps at Kroger’s and headed in, looking for more substantial dinner fare. I had planned on maybe grilling a steak, but gaziantep sınırsız escort the aromas of the deli stopped me in my tracks. I didn’t get much farther into the store. I purchased a lemon pepper rotisserie chicken, a pint of macaroni salad and a quarter loaf of garlic cheese bread. I passed on fruit or anything green or healthy, figuring I’d get my fill of that when Donna returned Monday.I rolled out of bed Saturday morning at around eight, probably the closest I’d ever get to sleeping in. I leaned backward to stretch my low back, rubbed my eyes with the back of my fists and scratched my balls. As I was padding down the hallway buck naked, I realized I had morning wood: balsa, but nothing I couldn’t convert to hickory with a jerk or two. Any other day, I’d detour into the half bath, sit on the can facing the seat, locate a glory hole video on a porn site with my cell and pound out my first milky load of the day. Today was different: I was going to save every drop for Jean and Roy’s fuckfest.I put on a pot of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee and leaned over the farm sink to get my first look of the day at the side yard. The fescue was green and healthy, but a good two inches longer than the neighbors’. Franco cut his yard weekly without fail and seemed to use a laser to define a perfectly straight property line. I wasn’t as anal. Speaking of anal (or in this case, not), Franco’s wife Carmen was already out weeding her flower beds.Carmen is one of those women who look born to work the earth. This morning, like most mornings in the summer, she was down on her hands and knees wearing her usual gardening garb: hiking boots over wool socks, a paisley patterned scarf pulling her raven colored hair back, old camp shorts, plus a faded and thin chambray work shirt. Also, like most mornings, she faced either squarely toward our window or squarely away. When squarely toward, her 38 DDs dangled unfettered, straining the lower buttons of her shirt. She never bothered to button the top three.
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