A Bad Case of Nerves

I drove to the gift shop and I think I was singing when I opened the door. Mella looked at me suspiciously.

“How come you’re so happy?” she asked me.

“It’s a beautiful day,” I answered.

“It’s raining,” she countered.

“I like the rain,” I insisted. I was very cheery all day long. Actually I couldn’t wait to get home. I just knew Edgar would call me and we would fuck again. That night I lay naked in bed, stroking my wet pussy, waiting for the phone to ring. It didn’t. The next night the phone didn’t ring. A week went by. I stopped singing. He hadn’t even called me about the home insurance.

“What’s wrong, Louise?” Mella asked me.

“Nothing,” I answered, twisting my fingers together. “I just have a bad case of nerves. It’ll pass.”

She shook her head and went back to putting the new birthday cards in the rack.

“Well, if that’s how he wants it, fuck him,” I thought as I got into my sexy clothes and put on my makeup. I would just make another trip to the Westwind Lounge. I would find someone new. Edgar was not the only pebble on the beach. There were a lot more fish in the sea.

When I got to the Westwind Lounge, I was half hoping that Edgar would be at the bar. I wanted the chance to snub him. I wanted the chance to have him watch as I spurned him and got cozy with another man.

The bartender nodded to me, as I perched on a stool. I was a familiar face. I looked around. Edgar was not at the bar. Damn. But there were several other decent looking possibilities.

One of them moved from the end of the bar, and sat down next to me.

“What can I get you to drink?” he asked me.

“I think I’d like a gin and tonic,” I said. I simply did not know the name of any other drink.

“Phil,” he called to the bartender. “A gin and tonic for the lady. And I’ll have another scotch rocks. He tipped his empty glass toward the bartender.

Scotch rocks. I would have to remember that.

He was a tall, good-looking, powerfully-built dark haired man who hadn’t shaved. He was wearing a green uniform and his muscles bulged out in every direction. He was all male. He was breathtaking.

I recognized him immediately. He was my plumber. Again I noticed the eagle tattoo on his arm. But now the eagle was turning me on. I could tell that he didn’t recognize me. Well, how could he? I was a different person.

“The name’s Dylan,” he said and reached out his hand. I had known his name was Dylan. And what he didn’t know was that I knew his last name. O’Reilly. Dylan O’Reilly.

“Louise,” I answered, and shook his hand politely.

He told me all about the vagaries of the plumbing business, how you never knew what was going to happen when you got to someone’s house. Some of the people were really nice, but some of them were real ‘ballbusters.’ I sympathized with him. I could really imagine his going to the house of a nervous, cranky, frustrated old-maid, who gave him nothing but misery.

I was telling him about the gift shop, and the new birthday cards, when all of a sudden the door opened, and someone came into the Lounge. No. It was not Edgar. It was a woman. A glamorous, beautiful young woman with long red hair, and a tight sexy outfit. She wore long, shiny black stockings. A short plaid skirt. A mini-top which exposed her bare midriff. In her navel were a cluster of fake diamonds. She had been pierced. I was so astounded by her general appearance that I had not even glanced at her face. I did so now. My jaw dropped.

“Mella,” I cried in amazement.

“Louise? Is that you? Oh, my god. It is you. What are you doing here? Why are you dressed like that?”

“Why are you dressed like that?” I countered.

“I guess you never saw my piercings.” She smiled.

“No. I never saw them. You dress differently in the store.”

“So do you,” she observed. I nodded.

She sat down on the stool on the other side of me. I had Dylan on my right, and Mella on my left.

“What can I buy you to drink?” Dylan asked her, leaning in front of me. He was looking at her breasts, which were even bigger than mine.

“I’ll have a banana Daiquiri,” she said. Dylan ordered it from Phil, the bartender.

“Dylan. This is my friend Mella. Mella, who works in the shop with me. Mella. This is Dylan. Dylan is a plumber.”

They shook hands directly along the bar, directly in front of me. Dylan seemed to be holding on to her hand, but Phil wanted to put down the Daiquiri, and needed space. He let go of her hand and they sat up. We laughed and chatted and gazed at each other in the mirror behind the bar. Mella was really a beautiful girl. I had never even noticed that. And Dylan. My god. Dylan was a hunk. He was sexier than Edgar. This would be no night of second best. I would pick him over Edgar any day.

But a horrible thought crossed my mind. Dylan and Mella were being very flirty. Suppose he didn’t want me? Suppose he wanted her? She was younger than I. I didn’t want that to happen. I tried everything I could think of. I was bright, vivacious. I kept injecting clever little bon mots into the conversation. And I have to admit, I let my leg rub against Dylan’s every now and then. Sort of unconsciously. And when I dropped my purse, and had to reach down to get it, I steadied myself on his firm, muscular left thigh. Way high up, and my middle finger was almost touching his enlargement. Yes, it was enlarged. And I hoped against hope that I was the cause of that enlargement.

We all had more drinks. We laughed. We chatted. I joked. I dropped my purse again. Dylan began describing to us the fabulous apartment he had furnished for himself, above his plumbing supply store. He called it his bachelor pad.

“You gotta see it,” he told us. “When we leave here, you gotta come over and see it.”

“Both of us?” I asked.

“Of course,” he said.

I was disappointed. There would be no action tonight.

Dylan left Phil a big tip on the bar, and we gathered our belongings. Before I got up, I dropped my purse one more time. Clumsy me. All three of us got in our separate automobiles, and Mella and I followed Dylan to the plumbing store and his fabulous bachelor ‘pad’.

We walked up an exterior flight of stairs on the side of his store, up to the second floor. Dylan led the way. He took out his keys, and opened the front door. Mella and I entered. He flipped the light switch.

One side of the living room was a living room, and the other side was a gymnasium with all sorts of weights and exercise machines. Now I knew how he got all those muscles. He gave us a walking tour. He showed us the modern kitchen with the granite counters, which he said he never used. He showed us the modern bathroom, with the enormous Jacuzzi bathtub, and the marble vanity. He showed us the bedroom. The bedroom. My god. Mirrors everywhere. Every wall was a mirror. The ceiling was a mirror. I looked up and saw myself upside down. I saw Nella and Dylan upside down. I saw the enormous king size bed with all kinds of red pillows and cushions upside down. Suddenly Dylan’s headtop approached my own, and before I could react, I felt his demanding lips on mine. He put one arm around my waist, and pressed me to him. I could feel his hard enlargement against my vulnerability. The other arm was reaching out to Mella.

His mouth moved off mine, and onto Mella’s. We were pressed together in a close-knit group of three. Mella moaned in rapture. Then he took his mouth off Mella’s and suddenly it was on my own again. He was massaging my breasts. Then Mella’s. Then mine. Then….

He was still kissing us both. I felt Mella’s hand brush against mine on Dylan’s fly.

“Kiss her,” he told me.

“Kiss Mella?” I had never considered anything like this.

“Yes. Go ahead. You too, Mella. Kiss Louise. I want to see a nice sexy ladykiss.”

I nervously moved my mouth to Mella’s, and she to mine. We kissed. I licked her lips. I felt her tongue enter my mouth. I felt a tingling in my vulnerability. Now Dylan was placing a hand on my tingle. And on Mella’s. Then the three of us were kissing all at once. Three tongues together. Then he opened our blouses and brassieres, and began feeding on my breasts. Then on Mella’s. Then on mine…….

“Get undressed,” he said.

I stood up and started disrobing like an automaton. Mella took off her blouse and skirt. She had disattached the left stocking from the pantygirdle clasps and was now rolling the sheer black nylon down her long leg. She was still in her pink panties while I was already in the nude. Dylan led me to the bed and arranged me along its length. Then he started to get undressed.

I could never have imagined such an endowment. How did it get so big and muscular? I knew it didn’t lift weights. How would I get that inside me? I put that fear out of my mind. I knew that I was resourceful and somehow I would manage.

Dylan was first on top of me. Then on top of Mella. More and more hot kisses. His tongue was becoming as familiar to me as my own. Then he scootched down on the bed and planted his mouth over Mella’s pussy. He began licking it. Flicking his tongue back and forth over her engorged pink nublet. Back and forth. Back and forth. Mella was thrashing all around on the mattress and making low guttural sounds. I was fingering my own pussy in envy.

But then, Dylan moved across the bed and began pleasuring me. Now I knew what Mella was thrashing about. I began rolling around the bed, screaming, holding his head into me. Yes. I was behaving like a strumpet.

Then Dylan moved up over my body, and that fearsome blunt knob was pressing into my slot. I could feel my mucous membranes separating around it. Separating and then drawing back together to clutch at it. I reached down and fondled his hard asscheeks as they were hunching his dick into me. Along the sides, I could feel his taut assflesh dimpling. His behind was so smooth. So smooth. I raised my legs around him, and I could feel his heavy balls battering my exposed asshole. It was very sexy. I could see his hard, firm asscheeks flexing and unflexing on each instroke and each outstroke. In the mirrors I could see the long taut dimples of his straining buttocks. I could see everything. All in the glittering mirror over my head. I was looking up at that mirror, and I could see fantastic fornication on the bed below it. If I turned my head to the side, the walls were mirrored, and I had a side view. I saw a man and a woman fucking. I was that woman. I loved it. I could also see another tattoo. A large one covering his left buttock. It was an American flag. Red, white, and blue. And it was waving, as he gored in and out of me. I wanted to salute, but instead I grabbed the banner and crushed it in my greedy hand. When I removed my hand, the flag was not crushed. I had not desecrated it. I wanted to move down and lick it, as any good patriot would do. But I was under him getting plowed. I was pinned down and couldn’t move anything but my hips.