Summer at School Ch. 02

Coach Miller owned a farm eight miles outside of town. A long driveway led up to the five bedroom, two story Colonial. Two small ponds dotted the acreage; otherwise crops hugged the landscape for as far as the eye could see. Coach Miller leased the land to a neighbor who did the actual farming. Dean had only been to the house once before, a couple of years ago but knew from her note where to find Beth.

She’d left his house before he woke up. Her note was short:

My dad and stepmother are going to Omaha today. Will be gone all day. Let’s have a picnic by the pond way behind the house. See you around noon. Beth

She’d straightened up the kitchen, cleaned the wine glasses, put the leftover pizza in the fridge, and locked the front door on the way out.

Dean looked at his watch. It was 11:50, and it would take at least ten minutes to walk from the house to the pond, and most of that was uphill. He guessed Beth was already at the pond. Her car was parked in the driveway and he’d parked right behind her, but there was no activity around the house.

Beth was dangling her feet off the low pier. She was wearing cut-offs and a light blue halter-top. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she was already pink from the sun. Dean kissed her right away in hopes any awkwardness might be avoided. Beth kissed him back.

“What time did you leave this morning?” Dean asked.

“Around nine, I guess. I thought all guys wanted the girl to be gone in the morning.”

Dean thought about their last attempt at making love the night before. Once in bed, hair still wet from the shower, Dean and Beth talked for a few minutes. With one finger Dean was absently Dean tracing some design on Beth’s stomach. Soon he arrived at her shaved muff and began to rub. The next thing he knew it was morning.

“I guess I sorta’ passed out on you,” he said.

“You were gone.”

“I blame it on too much baseball, too much wine, and too much you,” he said, and kissed her on the cheek. Beth lifted her head a little and the kiss ended up on her jaw. She held it and his lips stayed glued there.

“Well,” Beth said at last, “there’s no baseball today and I only brought four beers. As for me…” her voice trailed off. “As for me…I’m going for a dip.”

Beth peeled off her shorts and halter. Beneath, her bikini hid nothing. The two-piece was a strip of orange floral material for a top and a neon orange bottom that was little more than a thong in the front, but with enough material to cover her cheeks in the back—well, almost cover her cheeks. She stood up and dove into the pond. When she surfaced and climbed back onto the pier she was glowing and beautiful.

***

Dean opened a second beer when he finished his sandwich. They were sitting on a large blanket held down on the corners by the picnic basket and two sets of shoes. He could feel the sun on his skin even though they were sitting in the shade of one of many trees surrounding the pond. Beth’s hair was out of the ponytail and drying.

“Does anyone else come up here?” Dean asked.

“When my mom was alive she and my dad came up here a lot, but now it’s only me I suppose. My stepmother doesn’t like the outdoors much and so my dad has stopped coming, too.”

“Your own private lake.”

“Well,” Beth laughed. “I wouldn’t call it a lake, but it is private, up here on this hill like it is. When I was a little girl my mom and dad called this place Lake Titicaca, you know, like in South America, that lake that is the highest in the world. I thought they were just saying two bad words. I laughed when I found out there really was such a place. When you are up here you can see someone coming long before they can see you. It’s pretty nice.”

Dean reached across the blanket and rubbed Beth’s knee. She was lying on the blanket with her knees up, legs spread a little.

“Nope,” she went on, “no one else comes up here and if they did we’d hear them long before they could see us.”

Dean smiled to himself, but didn’t move. He sipped at his beer and rubbed her knee, pretending not to be paying attention.

“This is it: my own private lake.”

Nothing.

“Completely to ourselves. I’ve never seen anyone—“

Dean broke out laughing and moved between her legs. Beth wiggled out of her bikini bottoms and pulled off her top. He unzipped his shorts and pushed them to his knees. He maneuvered them off and pulled his shirt over his head. Beth got up on her elbows and watched him fondle his stiff cock.

“Get me wet first,” she said. “Get me wet with your mouth.”

Dean did as he was told. He leaned forward and lapped broadly at her shaved muff. He paused, licked his lips, and dove back in. Beth spread her legs generously to allow him full access. His tongue explored the inside of her pinkness, darting in and out of his mouth, in and out of her cunt. Beth’s clit made itself evident and he sucked at it imagining her sucking his cock. She liked the way Dean looked with his face in her cunt; she loved the way he made her feel. Her head tilted back and she closed her eyes.

Beth felt his lips tug on her clitoris, suck at it, then release. He balanced it on his tongue as if to get a better hold next time. Then it was in his mouth again. His head moved between her legs gently. He lapped sloppily, teasing her it seemed, then pushed his tongue into her again. When he took a breath Beth saw his face was soaking wet with perspiration and pussy juice.

Dean knelt full in front of her, his hard-on in his hand. He leaned forward and balanced himself with both hands on the blanket. Beth reached down and stroked his cock before she guided it into her tight, swollen, shaved pussy.

“Fuck me slow, Dean,” she whispered into his ear. “I can really feel you inside me and it feels good. Just promise me you’ll fuck me slow all day.”

Dean was not going to promise anything. He already wanted to go faster. He felt an immediate tightening in his sac. He looked down and watched his cock slide easily in and out of her vagina. His long strokes were maddening, but incredibly beautiful. He’d pull out until the head was almost out, then slide his unit in as far as it could go, hold there for a minute, then begin the slow pull out. His cock looked so big when it came out, then moved back in.

Soon Beth was bucking and ‘slow’ was out of the question. He licked at her nipples, and then sucked on them. This slowed her for a minute, but then she was bucking again. He lay on top of her and tried to hold her, but she was too strong. She met each thrust with one on her own and then they were fucking like animals. Beth was screaming that she wanted more, harder, faster. Dean was breathing too hard to say anything. He just closed his eyes and fucked her harder than he thought he should.

She gave as good as she took. Her back curved into that arch and she seemed to be pushing down on her pelvis. Her tight twat got tighter and hotter. Dean could feel her juices moistening his crotch. He buried himself as deep as he could go and held her tight.

“I’m going to come. Oh God.”

“I want to watch. Don’t come inside me. Come on me, all over me. Shoot your load all over me. God Dean, come all over me. I want to watch you shoot.”

Dean got straight up on his knees and was stroking his unit above her. Beth slid down between his legs and positioned her breasts and face closer to his pulsing prick. Dean stroked three more times and shot his jizz onto her tits and chin. He stroked and Beth opened her mouth and come found its way there, too. He stroked and she rubbed the white spunk into her pink stomach and tits as she sat up and put her mouth on his prick. She sucked the last of him before letting go.

“I could stay naked with you all day,” Beth said. Dean collapsed on top of her, catching himself, and feeling the strain at his elbows when he lowered himself onto her sticky chest and stomach.

“Me too,” he said.

Beth laughed. “No you couldn’t.”

Dean pushed up. “Never laugh at a naked man with a softening penis.”

Beth looked into his eyes. “I’m just saying that you cannot stay naked for the rest of the day.”

Dean hugged her again. Into Beth’s ear he whispered: “With you I could.”

Dean rolled off Beth and lay face up, feeling the warmth of the sun. They held hands between them, at their respective hips. Two clouds were in the sky and no others. The blue captured his imagination and Dean felt Beth spread her legs a little to accept the sunshine.

He turned a little and said again: “With you I could.”

Beth turned on her side. “I bet,” she said.

“What?”

“I bet you cannot stay naked, no matter what, for the rest of the day.”

Dean’s penis stirred. He loved a challenge. “And if I do?” he asked.

“No matter what!”

Dean nodded. “And if I do?”

“If you do I will grant you one wish—anything at all, and I mean anything. But if you don’t… you grant ME one wish. And I’ll make you pay, believe me. I’ll make you pay.”

“And you’ll be naked the whole day too, right?” Dean asked.

“I didn’t say that.”

“But,” Dean started, “there’s a chance you’ll be naked most of the day, right?”

“I’d say there is a pretty good chance of that, yes.”

“You’re on.”

Beth smiled, Dean laughed, the sun shined, and the trees rustled gently with the first breeze he’d felt all afternoon.

***

Dean sat on the edge of the sunken tub more or less facing away from the girl in the tub. He twisted so he could watch her bathing.

“I never really understood the whole taking-a-bath concept,” he said. “I mean you sit in clean water, I get that part, but as the dirt comes off your body now you are sitting in dirty water. And when you get out, after having been in the dirty water for twenty or thirty minutes, you pretend you are clean.”

“I love taking baths. I usually take bubble baths, but…rub my foot, rub my foot!” Beth’s face was twisted in pain. Dean got off the edge of the tub, and reached for her lifted right leg. “Cramp, cramp.”

“Straighten your toes.”

Her beautiful face returned and her leg relaxed in his grip. Dean kept rubbing, stroking now, and Beth kept letting him.

It was hour five of their naked bet. Aside from feeling a little silly when they were watching TV or a little nervous when they’d walked back to the house from the pond, Dean felt very natural with Beth. He loved the way she walked around with no clothes on. Her pert breasts and hard nipples demanded the freedom her nudity afforded them. He had loved watching her climb out of the pond, lifting herself onto the dock, slowly revealing her body to him as it emerged from the water. The embarrassment that such a simple and beautiful thing gave him an erection caused Dean to jump into the water and swim until he relaxed. Beth knew why he was swimming and thought it was cute. The fear of being spied by a neighbor on the walk back to the house kept his pole flaccid and he hadn’t even thought about his cock since then.

Beth made no effort to take back her leg. Dean massaged her foot, then her ankle. He kneaded her calf and bent slowly until he was rubbing her inner thigh. Beth pushed forward in the tub until he was brushing against her shaved vagina. Dean knelt on the bathroom floor and gave Beth all of his attention.

“Stop teasing me,” she whispered, and spread her legs.

Dean smiled. He gently entered her pussy with one finger and made very small circular motions. Beth leaned her head back and moaned with mounting pleasure. Dean inserted another finger and worked tenderly. He watched her face, her closed eyes, her slightly open mouth. The bathwater lapped at her breasts, then receded, then lapped again.

A small wave of pleasure rushed over Beth Miller. Then another. “Go faster,” she said, barely audible. “God, go faster Dean. You don’t know how good this feels.”

He slid his fingers in and out of her cunt harder and faster. He could feel her clit, stiff, looking for some of the attention. The gentle rolling bathwater a minute ago was more of a splash now as he rocketed his middle two fingers in and out of Beth. She was pinching her nipples and massaging her tits.

“Oh, Jesus! Fuck me with your fingers. Go.”

Dean watched Beth’s orgasm take control of her. She shivered and twisted. She closed her thighs on his pistoning hand and fingers. Water splashed out of the tub and onto the floor. Dean slowed his hand and gently rubbed her clitoris. Her bald cunt was velvet to the palm of his hand.

“That was awesome,” she said at last. The water in the bathtub was still again. Dean had a gigantic erection.

“You are beautiful when you come,” Dean said.

“I just need something in my mouth to make this the greatest bath ever. Got any ideas?”

Dean stood up and Beth stared at his penis. His foreskin was pulled back with no hope of covering the erect enlarged head of his cock. He stepped into the tub and stood above her.

And then they heard two car doors slam, and front door of the house open.

“Shit!” Dean’s first thought was to run, and run fast.

Beth was calmer. “Close the bathroom door and lock it.”

Dean did just that and stood in the middle of the small bathroom and felt the walls closing in on him. In a second there was a knock on the door and a woman’s voice.

“Beth? Are you all right, honey?”

“Hi Laura. I’m fine. Just taking a bubble bath. I’m going to catch up with some friends tonight and wanted to get cleaned up. You and dad are back early.”

Beth’s stepmother tried the knob of the bathroom door and what was left of Dean’s boner disappeared altogether. “Taking a Jacuzzi sounded like more fun than spending more of your father’s money so we came home.”

“Great,” Beth said. She sounded genuine. Dean looked at the tub and saw Beth smiling, doing everything she could not to laugh. “I’ll be out in a little while.”

“We’ll be on the deck.”

“Beth?” This time the voice was male. Dean recognized it as Coach Miller’s voice.

“Hi Dad.”

“Isn’t that Dean Allen’s car in the driveway?”

Beth stopped smiling. Shit, she thought. “Yeah. It was here when I got home this morning. He left a note. Said something like he had car problems and hoped he could leave it here. He was going fishing with some friends and didn’t want to take a chance. The note said you could call him on his cell phone if leaving it was a problem. I think I left the note on the counter in the kitchen.”

Beth’s explanation sounded phony even to her. How would her father ever believe it? But he did.

“Maybe I’ll give him a call,” her father said, his voice trailing off as he walked down the hall.

Dean sighed with relief. Beth smiled from ear to ear. “C’mere,” she whispered. “I’m horny again.”

Dean flipped her off. He doubted he would ever get an erection again.

In Beth’s bedroom Dean’s clothes were in a pile on the floor. He reached for them trying to be a quiet as possible. Beth did not try to be as quiet.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Getting dressed, what else?”

“May I remind you of our bet?”

“Beth, I’ve got to get out of here. Your dad will…”

“Then you lose the bet.”

“What could be worse than your father catching me naked with his only daughter?”

Beth smiled a chilling smile. “You never know.”

They heard the Jacuzzi start up.

“What do you suggest?” Dean asked, still whispering.

“I strongly suggest you keep your end of the deal and let me handle everything else.”

***

Dean sat in the dark at the foot of Beth’s bed, naked, too afraid to move let alone turn on the 15” color Sony TV just three feet in front of him. Crazily, he thought of Texas Hold ‘Em and the craze of televised poker tournaments. How do those guys know when to fold their hand? A bet is a bet, but what if you have a losing hand? Bluffing is part of poker, but how will he be able bluff when Coach Miller catches him naked in his daughter’s bedroom? Know when to hold ‘em, right? Know when to fold ‘em. Know when to walk away.

Walking away was not an option. Oh, he could walk away—his clothes were in a clump on the floor ten feet away—but he wasn’t going to. Dean thought back to what he’d said the night before, or the afternoon before that, whatever: Wherever this relationship is going, Beth, you are in charge.

He heard voices at the Jacuzzi. Beth’s bedroom had a sliding glass door that opened onto a deck above the Jacuzzi on the ground floor. A wooden spiral staircase descended to the patio and the whirlpool. Beth was saying goodnight. Her father told her to be home early or call if she was going to be late. Beth asked for a kiss and her father obliged. In a few minutes he heard a car pull away from the front of the house and felt more naked than ever.

I’m going to die here, Dean thought to himself. He turned away from the door and leaned against the wall…and thought about trust. Trust. With a capital T. Two days ago he trusted himself, his parents, his coach, and little else. And by today he’d lied to himself, his parents, and, implicitly, his coach. He didn’t trust Amy in Europe, or, well, anywhere else for that matter: he just didn’t trust Amy. Maybe he never had. Beth and Amy were different. Right? Trust: the net that is supposed to be there when you miss the ring and fall inside the Big Top full of people. Trust. He felt like he was on the trapeze and Beth had tossed him the ring. Trust is reaching out and knowing the ring will be there.

Dean reached out, but the room was still empty.

Outside there were voices again. Muffled. Dean turned back to the sliding glass door and pressed an ear to it. In his head he gathered his courage; in his pelvis his balls tightened and his penis turtled. He slid the door, opened it about two feet, and listened.

The whirlpool had reached an even undulation; an outdoor ceiling fan, closer to Beth’s door than the spa, was even and refreshing.

“Show me that fat dick, Marty.” Dean heard Laura’s voice.

Dean imagined the coach sitting on the side of the whirlpool with legs dangling in, Laura wading, feet on the bottom, somewhere in the middle of the small pool. He’d never met Laura, and only seen her at a handful of home games over the past couple of years. Brunette, petite, pretty, full lips, always with a Tigers’ cap to cover green eyes and a faraway stare. Laura was twenty-eight and every coach’s dream second wife.

Dean opened the door a little more. Soon he was crouching on the deck looking down on Coach Miller and his bride. He got on his knees but stayed in the shadows. A soft southerly breeze washed over him and found his penis. He liked the way the wind kissed his cock and made him feel strong. On all fours Dean looked over the edge into the whirlpool.

Coach Miller was sitting on the side of the pool. He was leaning back stroking his unit. One hand was on the cement surrounding the Jacuzzi, the other was bopping his lazy, soft manhood. Laura pushed away the water between her and the coach as she walked closer to him. Her ample breasts treaded water and Dean loved the way her dark areolas played against the lights from the pool. Her nipples were hard and larger than Beth’s. Soon she was between him and the coach and Dean was looking over her shoulder. Her back was straight as it crossed the pool; Dean could see the muscles in her shoulders. Her hair was wet, matted against her neck and back, just long enough to tease her shoulder blades. When she reached the side of the Jacuzzi Coach Miller leaned forward and softly touched either side of her head. He brought it to his face and kissed her. Laura accepted his kiss, and then leaned into his lap.

Dean felt his cock getting a little stiffer. He dared to press his head through the wooden slats of the railing and watched Laura hunched over into Coach Miller’s lap. The coach’s legs wrapped around her shoulders and his head was thrown back; he bucked his hips in time to her head bobs. She stroked his cock as she stuffed it into her mouth; her legs were spread far apart under the clear water of the Jacuzzi. Dean thought how great it would be to slip in behind her and fuck her while she swallowed his coach. Laura reached between her legs with her right hand and pushed one or two fingers into her muff. Now her hips were undulating in time with Coach Miller’s bucks and her own head bobs.

After a minute or two more the couple slowed and Laura straightened up. Without a word she slipped from between the coach’s legs, put a blue towel down and leaned onto the cement. He legs were spread again in the pool and the coach pushed himself off the side and into the pool behind his wife. Dean saw the man in the pool was only half hard when he bellied-up to the pretty brunette. After all that sucking! Dean thought. Hell, sex is wasted on old people.

The coach held his manhood and pressed behind his wife. He was bent slightly at the knee and had one hand on the small of her back. She spread her feet even wider as he entered her. After several attempts they began to rock in unison; Coach Miller had both hands on her hips and their loving went in waves: slow at times, building to a crescendo, then slower, building again, then slower. There was no talking between the lovers that Dean could hear. Crazily, he wondered if Coach Miller used words like ‘pussy’ except when addressing a shortstop afraid to get in front of a hard hit groundball.

Suddenly, Dean was embarrassed watching Beth’s parents in the Jacuzzi. What was once the promise of a great erection hung between his bent knees looking down in deference to gravity. He pushed back, still on all fours, from the edge of the balcony, and eased into Beth’s bedroom. Only then did he stand up after twenty or thirty minutes of moving around on his hands and knees.

Only then did he notice Beth was in the room.

“Beth, I…”

“You were watching them, and eavesdropping! I can’t believe you were watching my father!” She tried to sound angry, angrier than she’d ever been before, but it wasn’t working. Dean thought she smiled when she walked around the bed, past him, and slowly closed the sliding glass door.

“I heard them talking, and—“

“—and nothing! Two grownups in a Jacuzzi in a house they think is empty. What did you think they were going to do?” Beth folded her arms just beneath her breasts. Dean loved the peasant blouse she’d chosen to wear; her small titties and erect nipples pressed against the light fabric. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Her jeans hugged slim hips and he could see about three inches of skin between her belt and the tied bottom of her green/blue blouse. She was still holding her shoes.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said, trying not to smile. He tried to think of something really sad in his life, tried to call up some distant sorrow to sound convincing. “I was just sitting here, thinking of getting dressed and running away, but I didn’t want to lose the bet. Then I heard them…I watched, I guess.” He looked down dramatically. ‘ACTING’, he thought to himself. “But I didn’t like it,” he said into his chest.

Dean and Beth laughed together. And loud. He was glad she had closed the door.

They sat on the side of Beth’s bed and looked through the glass door into the night. For a long time they nothing. Neither touched the other. A couple times one or the other would start to say something, but they would just break out into laughter. Dean did not feel the least bit uncomfortable being the only naked person in the room. Beth looked out into the starry sky and told herself she’d never been happier.

“I hate her,” Beth said, finally.

“Who?” But Dean knew Beth was talking about her stepmother.

“Laura.” Beth’s eyes were moist. Not tears exactly, but moist just the same.

“Why?” Dean asked. The boyfriend thing to do would be to pull her close to him and let her know that it would be okay. That’s how Dean would’ve comforted Amy, but this was different somehow. No fake arm-around-the-shoulder would work here. Communication is the answer here, Dean thought, and besides, he really wanted to know why.

“I just don’t think she’s right for my dad. I can’t explain it.”

“Why do you say that? Your dad seems happy.” Dean wondered if he really believed Coach Miller was happy—his cock never did get fully erect in the Jacuzzi, maybe he was just going through the motions–or, was Dean so happy that EVERYONE seemed happy?

“I don’t think she loves him, okay? I’ve said too much already.”

He kissed her, and for the first time Dean felt a little uncomfortable being the only naked person in the room.

“Get dressed,” Beth said. “We’re going out.”

***

The Outta The Weigh was a small roadside joint off Interstate 80 about twenty minutes from Beth’s house. Two class clowns and “dedicated party animals” bought the closed weigh station from the Department of Transportation after a ‘90s budget crunch dictated travelers were just as safe on these highways without making truckers pause here. To their credit, Jefferson Dawes and Clinton Deems cleaned the place up, worked harder than anyone could have imagined, and managed a successful sandwich and souvenir shop by day, and quiet bistro at night. State law was lax at ‘Chez Weigh’ and all its patrons respected unwritten rules of decorum.

Jeff was sitting on the other side of the tinted door when Dean and Beth walked in.

“Coach girl, holá,” Jefferson said. His Spanish was abysmal, his complexion pockmarked and ashen. Beth cringed a little that he remembered her as Coach Miller’s daughter.

Dean stepped forward. “Two please.” He reached for his wallet suggesting he’d show an ID if that was necessary.

Jeff waved him off. “No cover on Sundays, my man.”

Beth nodded and Dean mumbled a ‘thank you’.

The entryway was plastered with posters advertising bands at other clubs. Outdated posters mostly, but Dean saw that ‘Barely Tolerable’ was downtown next weekend and ‘Your Mother Should Know’ was at the Rathskellar on campus next Friday. He pushed through another tinted door into the bistro and held it for Beth.

Soft black lights set the ambience of the room. Beth picked a table in the corner and Dean went to the bar for drinks. When he returned she was pushing something white into her black purse.

“Nice place,” he said sarcastically as he set her Cosmopolitan and his Old Style down on the round table.

“Seems nice enough, I guess,” Beth said. “I thought we could go here and not be noticed, that’s all. Sometimes it’s nice to go out and still be alone. Know what I mean?”

Dean looked around. There were two old guys at the bar that he thought he might’ve known once upon a time, but there was no recognition when he and Beth walked in. Two tables away another couple talked separately into cell phones. Maybe a dozen people were in the poolroom shooting or playing video games. The dance floor, such as it was, had no dancers; the DJ stand was un-manned.

Beth raised her martini glass. Dean met it with the neck of his beer bottle. “Thank you Dean Allen,” she said. “Thank you for so many reasons.”

They both drank.

“What did you put in your purse?” Dean asked, and then took another sip of his beer.

“When?”

“When? When I was coming back with the drinks. I saw you putting something very white into your purse. These black lights made it seem even whiter. I was just wondering…”

“Panties,” Beth said, matter of factly.

“But you have on jeans. How did you…?”

Beth looked at him. “Why do boys always want to know all the secrets right away? Do you know why men make the best magicians? Because women accept that there is magic in the world. Men are always asking ‘How did you do that?’”

Dean blushed on behalf of his entire gender.

Beth’s countenance turned serious. “She doesn’t love my father. I know she doesn’t.”

Dean looked across the table at the beautiful redhead and searched for something to say. Finally he offered, “Beth, I saw them in the pool tonight. They wanted each other.” He reached for her hand and found it. “Thanks to you I know when two people want each other.”

“I think you are wrong!” Beth said defiantly. She pushed away from the table and walked toward the restrooms.

Laughter erupted from the poolroom and two goofs spilled onto the empty dance floor. They mock wrestled a minute and pushed back through the open doorway and out of sight. The couple on cell phones two tables away sat silently; Dean thought each was probably waiting for another call so one or the other could talk again. The old men at the bar were joined by a third. Gentle acknowledgement between the three suggested to Dean that none of then had anywhere else to be.

“Oh by the way,” Beth said when she returned with drinks. “ You lose our bet.” She sat down in the chair next to his. The whole room spread out in front of the young couple.

“Lose? We had to get out of the house. I had to get my car out of there. You told me to get dressed.”

Beth shrugged. “Naked all day is naked all day. Are you naked now?”

“You cannot be serious?”

“Are you naked now?” she asked again.

Dean looked down, just in case he was. “No.”

Beth reached for her drink with her left hand and rubbed his groin with her right. She raised her glass and offered a silent toast. Dean lifted his Old Style and met her glass. He felt his belt unbuckle and his zipper go down as he swallowed half his beer. Beth sipped her Cosmopolitan and deftly unsnapped his Cargo shorts. When his hardening cock was in her hand he thought about all the laws they were probably breaking. When she started moving her hand up and down on his unit he didn’t care.

Dean pushed his legs out under the table and spread them a little. He tried to appear nonchalant when he glanced down and watched Beth’s fist swallow his prick and stroke him with an agonizing slowness that was at once teasing and fulfilling. She giggled into side of his neck. Dean kept both hands on the table and surveyed the room for any signs of traffic coming their way. He acknowledged something she said, but didn’t really hear it. He smiled and sipped his beer. This must be the price for losing the bet, he thought. It was a price he was willing to pay.

Beth stroked a little faster and squeezed a little tighter. Dean could feel his scrotum tightening with each full stroke. He knew ecstasy was imminent and gave himself over to Beth and her pumping fist. He looked down again and saw the slit on the head of his cock open and close the slightest bit with each stroke. Dean kept one hand on his Old Style and slipped the other under the table and wrapped it around Beth’s hand. Together they stroked fast and hard, oblivious to the others in the bar. In a minute Dean shot into the air and onto their hands, his shirt and lap, and probably onto the floor. The smell of semen cut through the cigarette smoke for a second, and then was gone.

The Outta the Weigh is not the kind of lounge that demands, or even suggests, patrons use napkins. Dean looked to Beth for some help with the mess.

“Spill your beer,” she said.

“What?”

“Spill your beer on yourself. Trust me.”

Dean pulled the bottle toward him and let it fall. Beth pushed away from the table and laughed. She got up and went to the bar to find the carefully guarded stack of napkins in a Gilbey’s promotional tray. The bartender anticipated her need and had a handful waiting for her.

“He okay?” the bartender asked.

“He just needs a cigarette,” Beth said and smiled.

They stayed for a couple more drinks. Dean was mostly dry and Beth was a little tipsy when the walked to the car. The humid summer night smothered them when they pushed through the door. The neon signs reflected off what must have been a brief downpour. Beth skipped a little and waited for Dean to open her car door. Inside the car she was sullen again.

“I know Laura is cheating on my father,” she said before Dean even had a chance to put the keys in the ignition.

That’s the booze talking, he said to himself. He started the car and felt the air conditioner blast coolly on him. He turned on the windshield wipers and in two passes the droplets were gone. Beth was turned to him and awkwardly tried to put her arm over the back of his seat but she was too short. When two attempts failed she settled for keeping both her arms in her lap.

“How do you know Laura is cheating on your dad?”

“I just do. You have to believe me. I just do.”

Dean turned from Beth and looked into the night. Clouds filled the sky and he guessed there was going to be more rain before the night was over. He thought about what Beth had just said. It made sense. Laura Miller had to be twelve or fourteen years younger than Coach Miller. She was the trophy wife. Coach Miller always told his teams that sacrifices have to be made to win trophies. Maybe his sacrifice was his wife’s infidelities.

“I believe you,” Dean said half-heartedly.

“No you don’t,” Beth said indignantly. She turned and faced forward as if to say I’m ready to go.

Dean reached over and put his hand on her knee. “Beth, I do believe you,” he said slowly.

Beth straightened a little in her seat. “I know she cheats on my dad,” Beth said at last, “because she made a pass at me last week.”