I remembered her legs better than I did her face. She had sat on a desk with a new mini skirt and sort of blue pantyhose. Her thighs were plump - they touched each other about a hand's breadth above her knees - and I had wanted so much to insinuate my hand in there. First, a caress of the left knee with my right hand as we kissed, then, if she leaned into it, a tarantula walk up the thigh to the seam in the crotch. I imagined she would have been moist, at least from the heat and damp of a late spring semester day if not from a twinge of excitement. My thumb would have nudged her clit while my finger pushed against the fabric, rubbing first against the left lip of her vulva, then letting the thumb slide into the still lingerie-covered slit to massage the inner right lip while my hand grabbed a little tenderloin on the upper right thigh.
What if she had whispered,"Let me close the door," and had hiked up her skirt on the way back from locking it? Would I have risked my career to go down on those blue pantyhose, chewing at the crotch, tearing it away from her pussy with my teeth and lapping at her clit till it rose up and beckoned me in? As it was, all that happened was, she slid off the desk, pulled down her skirt, even though her muscular ass rode it right back up again, and reperched herself, at least three times! I used to think girls didn't know they were making me crazy. I was dumb. I let the conversation drift through her summer vacation plans until the bell rang, and she took those firm blue legs and that high riding ass out of my life.
Ten years and a divorce later, she walked into the restaurant where I play guitar and sat, with her strong legs crossed and her left flipflop dangling from her fleshy big toe, right in front of me. She wore a light blue sundress which hiked up her thighs every time she leaned forward to take a slurp from her Singapore Sling.
Okay, it's not like she didn't have tits. They were bigger than grapefruit halves, with, I could see straining against the fabric of the sundress, wider than average nipples. I wanted to palm each one, with the fat nipple pinched between two fingers as I held her from behind with my nose nuzzling behind her ear and my brat getting sandwiched between those two meaty asscheek buns. But, I always want to do that.
I played "What's New Pussycat?" and she laughed and adjusted herself to sit the way she sometimes had sat in class ten years ago. She dropped a flipflop and pulled one foot in and under, so that her panties were exposed. (They were just white cotton jobs, but still pretty sexy since I could see the outline of her vulva and a faint line of moisture.) Then, as she always had back in the day, she reached down between her legs and gave her ankle one last tug, bringing the bottom of her foot right up against her crotch. I'm hard right now thinking about it. I wanted it all, the foot, the ankle, the leg, the pussy, the strong ass, the grapefruits and, of course, the lips, the ears, and the eyelashes. (Kissing is fun, too!)
The restaurant was virtually empty, and Joey, the bar manager, gave me my $150 and told me to take off a half an hour early. Yeah, he winked. Bernie, that's my girl in the sundress at the moment, although I hoped she would soon be out of it with her cotton panties dangling from her toe and he feet up around my ears, she at first protested that she wanted to hear more, but quickly began to help me pack up when I told her she could come over for a private final set as long as she didn't request "Freebird."
She bent over in front of me to pick up a harmonica I must have dropped earlier just as I bent forward to load some sheet music into its case. My nose went straight into the ass fabric of her sundress. Instead of squealing and jumping away, though, she giggled and straightened out her legs as she put her palms flat on the ground next to her feet. The effect was to ride her sundress up past my face until I was face to ass with her cotton panties. I gave her pussy a little lick through the cotton, figuring if she got mad, I'd go home alone like most nights, but if she liked it............
Bernie straddled her legs apart a little so she could peak at me from between her knees. She smiled. With my nose poised between her asshole and her cunt, I caught a whiff of something earthy and damp, and she groaned quietly as I gave her a quick nuzzle and said. "Let's pack the car and go." She said she follow me home, and I almost went off the road three times as I had one hand on my thobbing cock and one eye on the rearview mirror. But my girl followed close behind, waving at me occasionally. I imagined she had one hand buried in her crotch, because when she waved she swerved..
We had barely gotten the guitars in the front door before I was on her. I took her in my arms from behind, with one hand cupping her left tit and the other insinuating itself under the sundress. The cotton was soaked and had ridden up her pussy like a thong strap. I flicked it out of the way with my ring finger and buried my index finger in her snatch, feeling for that little mound of flesh that signals an impending orgasm for a woman.
