I lay in bed half awake and half dreaming about the way Rick’s hands glided all over the contours of my body with his wet, slippery, soapy hands. I thought about way our bodies slid in synch under the spray of water. I got lost in the memory of the way his wanting cock slid inside of me over and over again as he had me pinned against the tile wall and the way the constant stream of my love juices spilled out of me. I wished I could have drifted off to sleep against his moist naked body last night and woken up next to him this morning, but maybe it was best I didn’t. I had to get up to clean the mess I’m sure we left in the kitchen and on the patio last night.
It was barely past the butt crack of dawn and Mom was already cleaning up the smears and smudges we left on the cabinets and countertops. She didn’t look too pleased. She gave me that look that made me feel like a kid again, and not in the way Rick did.
“Mom, I’m sorry,” I said. “We came out here to get a few things, but it was dark, and we didn’t want to disturb you. I thought I’d get up early enough to take care of this.”
“It’s all right,” she said in a tone that I knew was far from “all right.”
I got out the broom to sweep up what we left on the floor and saw that I was going to have to get out a mop and floor cleaner without arousing any kind of additional suspicion.
“I just want to get this all cleaned and organized before I start on all the cooking that I have to do today,” she said. “But just how in the world did you make this kind of mess? It looks like a gang of preschoolers blew through here.”
I really wanted to tell her if she could let us have the kind of sex that she and Dad enjoyed that maybe we wouldn’t have made such a mess in her kitchen, not that we didn’t have fun. Instead, I said, “You know I’m here to help you.”
Mom didn’t say anything. I could tell she was pissed, and I had a feeling that it may have been more than just about waking up to find a mess in her kitchen. Perhaps she knew that food wasn’t the only thing we were eating after lights out the night before. I just prayed I could get out onto the patio and clean up the bigger mess out there without arousing any more ire.
By luck, Rick walked into the kitchen. I gave him a sweet, innocent kiss on the cheek, gave him a bottle of spray cleaner and a roll of paper towel, and said. “Could you do us a favor and give the patio a quick cleanup?”
He gave me a secret smile and said, “Sure. Would love to give you ladies a hand.”
I looked at Mom. She managed to give Rick half a smile before I joined him on the patio.
“We’re busted, aren’t we?” he asked with a playful sneer as soon as we got outside.
I sighed. I was already exacerbated, and I haven’t even had my morning coffee yet.
“I don’t know what we are, but I’m tired of her being such a control freak,” I blurted out while scrubbing the patio table.
He leaned over to me, gave me that Cheshire cat smile, and got right into my face to get eye-to-eye with me to say, “You don’t like control freaks? Are you telling me you wouldn’t like me to take total control over you? To push you onto that chair, spread your legs, tie them down, and lick that sweet, juicy pussy until you really lose control of yourself?”
He swiftly bent me backward and gave me a deep, long and lush kiss. His tongue flicked at my tongue as if it were my clit. My entire body shivered and shivered some more when he gave me a firm smack on my ass. I almost lost my frame of reference of where I was until he suddenly pulled away. I felt as if I was dropped back into reality like Cinderella’s shoe crashing and shattering onto the ground with my cleaning rag in hand with half the patio table still in need of cleaning of sticky smears and smudges.
“No fair!” I screamed at him as quietly as I could.
Rick gave me a wicked grin and went back to the business of scrubbing the chair that was in serious need of cleaning. Heaven forbid someone should sit on a cushion covered in chocolate syrup with their clothes on.
Then he started snickering again, stifling how loud he wanted to be.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
He put a finger to his lips to signal me to “Shh …” and pointed to the kitchen window. My mom and dad were having an argument disguised as a discussion muffled by the closed window.
“Roger, I just don’t like it,” Mom said. “Not in my house. They’re not married.”
“Oh, Dolores, knock it off,” Dad said. “It’s not like we had our fun before we got married.”
“But not in our parents’ houses,” she argued back. “They should at least show us some respect.”
“We were in college before we got married, for chrissake,” Dad said. “Besides, do you really think taking you over taking you over the hood of my GTO bed was respectful?”
Things went quiet and then there were some muffled moans and giggles before I heard Mom say, “No, but it was fun!”
My eyes popped. Rick covered my mouth to keep a roar of laughter from coming out. We cupped our ears to hear more, but we couldn’t hear anything except for the kitchen chairs and the salt and pepper shakers on the kitchen table getting knocked around.
“I just can’t listen to this,” I whispered.
Rick was not swayed except for his clothed cock that he was pressing against my ass. He licked the curves of my ear, cupped his mouth over it and whispered, “That should be me taking you over the kitchen table right now.”
The patio table was right next to us, but it was now broad daylight with the sun lighting up the patio and the entire commons area surrounded by at least a dozen other condos. Surely, every resident was up drinking their coffee and having their breakfast within full view of us.
I pulled Rick by the hand and said, “Let’s go for a walk.”
He balked. I knew he was getting his jollies overhearing my parents going at it on the kitchen table, but I ignored him. I was too busy peering all over the place as I dragged him to no place in particular.
Like my parents’ condo, there was no place to hide in this development. Everything had been built and landscaped in the last five years, and it wasn’t as if young palm trees provided any kind of privacy or shelter for sneaking away for an outdoor quickie.
Then I spotted a storage garage that backed up against a brick privacy wall on the far end of the complex. I grabbed Rick by the hand and started running toward it.
“What the f …” he started to say.
I didn’t say a thing, but I had a good idea what he would do when I braced myself against the garage wall, pulled him in by the shirt collar, and told him, “Fuck me! Now!”
He tore off my pants, pulled down the zipper of his shorts with lightning speed, pulled my legs around his hips, and plowed his hard cock into me. I held onto him as tightly as I could as we rammed ourselves against the wall. The warming morning sun became almost as hot as the heat that we generated between us. Sweat trickled down my forehead onto his chest and down the tight crevasse between my breasts. It started dripping as copiously as the cum that he pumped out of me that coated his shaft and my legs and ass cheeks.
He took advantage of nature’s lubricant and rammed his finger up my ass, which shot my orgasm into overdrive. I couldn’t hold my orgasm on the edge and wait until he was ready to cum. But as soon as I let out a muffled scream and released the grip that I had around his steel hard shaft, he blasted away in short powerful spurts until he was completely out of breath.
He dropped me to my feet and held me the best he could so that I wouldn’t collapse under my shaky, rubbery legs. It was a joyful exhaustion that came on with no thought and no planning, only a desperation to be together away from the watchful, meddlesome eyes of my parents.
As soon as I caught my first normal breath and was able to bed down to pick up my pants without that dizzying feeling of wanting to pass out, it turned out we were under somebody’s watchful eye.
“Shit!” I said in a whispered scream, scrambling to slide my pants up my legs, pull them over my hips, and zip up faster than Rick pulled them off.
Off in the distance was an old white-haired man jerking away as quickly as his droopy shoulders that hung off his baggy light blue golf shirt would let him. He had a googly-eyed gaze and a slack-jawed expression that looked as if he was letting out an involuntary constant stream of drool.
I turned my head away from the man and hung it down so my hair would cover my face. I straightened out my T-shirt, and told Rick, “Don’t look. Just get dressed.”
Of course he looked and just started laughing while pulling up the zipper on his shorts leisurely and cavalierly.
“This was your idea, dear,” he said, with a devilish grin, pulling my face toward his.
We both looked the man’s way and he was gone. I was finally able to laugh.
“I suppose he was as embarrassed as we were,” I said with a giggle.
“I wasn’t embarrassed,” Rick said, pulling up on the waistband of his shorts and buckling his belt. “We don’t know him. He doesn’t know us …”
He was right. What he said made me go from mortified to giggling like an idiot all the way back to my parents’ house. They bought the story that we just went out of a walk. I’m sure they were grateful.
I assumed their tabletop romp was exactly what my mom needed to loosen up and get on with the preparations for the Christmas Eve open house she planned for later in the afternoon and into the evening. Her bitchy scowling and mumbling had gone the way of being light on her feet and chirping like a bluebird to Christmas carols as she wrapped puff pastry around cocktail wieners and whipped up her pineapple barbecue sauce for the mini meatballs. They were the same things she made thirty and forty years ago. It all made Christmas familiar and cozy again, even if it was 76 degrees and the grass was as green as the leaves of the palm trees.
Even when my parents lived in town, Mom always opened the house on Christmas Eve to family as well as friends as kind of an orphan celebration. She couldn’t stand the thought of people who didn’t have people and a place to celebrate the holiday. Apparently, word got around their complex and by three o’clock every PT Cruiser and golf cart in the complex surrounded my parents’ condo. It was more than enough people for Mom to quit micromanaging the way I arranged stuffed mushrooms on the serving platters and opt out to play hostess with her friends and those who only knew her well enough to hear she was serving free food. One of those people was that man from this morning.
“Rick, he’s here!” I said, dragging him from the living room and into the sanctuary of the kitchen.
“Who? He? What?” he asked, trying to get his bearings and trying to make sense of my panic.
“Him,” I said, pointing at the old man who stationed himself at the dining room table downing shrimp cocktail like a human garbage disposal. “That guy from this morning. He’s here. He knows my parents.”
Rick placed his hands on my shoulders as if his touch could keep me from the brink of hyperventilating. “I’m sure he’s not stupid or senile enough to do or say anything inappropriate. Remember, you caught him choking his chicken outside as plain as day, right?”
Rick was right, and it was a sight I wanted to forget. A dirty old man wanking off at me, at us. If I knew we were putting on a show for someone, I would rather it been a man as handsome as Rick.
That man remembered us, or at least me, too. He didn’t say anything, but he had his creepy secret smile on his face every time I came out of the kitchen to bring out a new tray of food or to clear the dining room and family room of stray plates, napkins and glasses. I couldn’t run back to the kitchen each time to hide from his lecherous leer. If he had his druthers, I’m sure he would have whipped out his willy and go back to stroking at the sight of me.
Dad must have noticed the man’s glances he cast at me. He was the only person he went out of his way to introduce me.
“Chuck, this is my daughter, Patty,” Dad said. “She and her friend Rick are here to visit us for the holidays.”
It was clear the message my dad was trying to convey. This man’s stares must have been more obvious than I thought. He readjusted his eyeballs and started awkwardly fumbling over the canapés on his plate as soon as he heard my dad say the words ‘my daughter.’ He couldn’t look me in the eye when he stuck out his hand to shake mine.
I really didn’t want to shake this man’s hand. I knew where it was earlier this morning, but Rick had no problem shaking it when he walked up. It was if he did it for effect, as a dare.
Within minutes, Chuck slipped out the door without saying a word to anyone.
“See,” Rick said, handing me a vodka spritzer to which he raised his glass to toast. “All I had to do was establish myself as the alpha dog and I knew he’d run off with his tail between his legs.”
Once again, he cast that look and that smile that broke me down right to my core. I didn’t care who or how many people were around. The only thing I could think to do was to grab him by the back of his neck and pull him in for a deep, long kiss.
The chatter around us was replaced by sighs and smiles. Even my mom, who I felt I’ve hide my sexuality from all these years, especially since I’ve been divorced and these last two days, smiled and gave my dad a quick squeeze of his ass.
In that moment I felt that I conquered an uncomfortable situation and claimed my lust and sensuality for Rick for the world to see. I think he sensed it, too.
He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and whispered in my ear, “I hope these people go home early to have sex, because that’s what I want to do with you.”