Just Out of the Service

This is the final chapter describing Paul's adventures in New York. Telling this story was the primary reason I joined Literotica.

*

To save time, Paul passed on the cross-town bus, and hailed a cab. It was going to cost him a chunk of his remaining cash, but time was of the essence. Once back in his hotel room, he stripped off his Levi's and rinsed them as well as he could in the tub then hung them over the shower rod. It would be bad form to continue to wear them or even just leave them around after Joannie had so thoroughly soaked them the previous night.

Paul pulled on a gray suit, knotted up his tie, and dashed out to get to Grand Central and the express downtown. The subway was already as steaming as it had been the night before. By the time the air conditioning hit him as he entered the headquarters building, he felt like he needed another shower. It was 10:15, and the third class of the day was in session. As he began through the door, trying to slip in unnoticed, he heard, "O'Brien! A word with you out here."

Paul turned to see the head of training, Jack Donovan, standing behind him in the hallway. His mood immediately turned sour. He had seen too many Jack Donovan's in his Army years. Typically, he was a major with no command time, putting in his 20 for retirement, and desperately hoping for there to be enough ass to suck that he could retire as a lieutenant colonel, the next higher grade. Jack was the civilian equivalent. He came up through the administrative side and had never had a client book of his own. He was a good thirty pounds overweight and his shirt tail was already starting to creep out from under the overstressed belt holding up his trousers. His hair was not exactly covering up early male pattern baldness as well as Jack thought it did, and his cheeks displayed that rosy glow so typical of a man who likes his evening cocktails a bit too much.

"You must think you're so much better than the rest of the class that you can just show up when you please," began Donovan. "The company is spending a small fortune on you to get trained for this profession," he continued, "and you are showing little appreciation for it. Perhaps I should call your manager in San Jose and inform him of your lack of focus."

"Sure, go ahead and do that, Jack," Paul shot back. "Tell Barry that I lack appreciation for the company providing me with a desk and a phone and little else, especially since they will keep 65 cents of every dollar I generate. However, I am grateful the firm plucked me off the unemployment rolls and that it has paid for my registration with the SEC. Since my registration is now effective, maybe the manager of the Dean Witter or Paine Webber office would like to pick it up for free when I get back there."

Donovan was clearly getting pissed off, and he took a step closer to Paul. He was a couple inches taller, and perhaps he thought it would impress the trainee. Paul stood 6' and thanks to his frequent workouts, his 190 pounds was mostly muscle. "Oh, please!" thought Paul, "This idiot isn't really thinking of getting physical, is he?" He stepped back to defuse the situation. "Jack, maybe you should tell Barry that Paul O'Brien has scored at the top of the class in every training scenario you have given us. Tell him I will be at my desk bright and early Monday morning ready to kick ass and take names. Oh, and Jack, if you ever step into my personal space like that again, I will demonstrate the training my previous employer gave me." Without waiting for an answer, Paul turned and walked into the classroom.

That afternoon, when Paul was preparing to head back to the hotel, one of the assistants in the training department gave him a note indicating he should call his manager. He found unused desk with a working phone and returned Barry's call. When Barry heard his voice, he said he had gotten a call from Jack somebody there. "Uh, oh," thought Paul, "here it comes."

"Hey, killer, it sounds like you are knocking them dead there," exclaimed Barry, "Top trainee in the class, eh? Bet you are raring to get back here and start building your book."

Paul winced at Barry's opening. "That I am. But Boss, please do not call me that nickname again. It's a long story and I will tell you over drinks sometime. See you Monday."

Friday was the last day of training. Everyone was let out on their own at 11 AM. Paul thought about what he could do to fill the time until the next morning. He tried calling Joannie at her office, but she was not in. So, what does a young man who is alone in Manhattan and almost broke do? He takes advantage of one of the world's greatest transit systems. The museums are free or next to it. The Staten Island ferry has a great view of the Statue of Liberty. The sky was bright blue, the sun was out, and it was the kind of day the Chamber of Commerce would buy and preserve if they could. As the afternoon wound into evening, Paul found himself in need of food and drink. He called Joannie's home number from a pay phone, but it just rang with no answer. Not much left to do but rely on survival skills. There was a little bit of limit left on his one credit card. "No time like the present," he mused, "Going to get rich starting next week."

He wandered over to the bar where he had first seen Joannie, hoping to find her there. He took a seat at the bar and ordered a Pabst Blue Ribbon (amazing the longevity of that brand). After drinking real beer in Germany for a year, the domestic product sucked. But it was cheap, always had been. Paul was absorbed in his thoughts, when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to see a woman who had been in the training class. She was tall and very thin. Her straight black hair was cut in a bob that hung just below her ear lobes, her makeup was heavily applied. "So, sailor, what are you doing for fun in town?" she asked. Paul searched his memory for her name. Mary, Southern Cal office, seemed to like teasing the other guys in the class.

"First time in the Big Apple," Paul replied, "I thought I might enjoy the sights before heading back. What about you?"

"I love Manhattan, and I wanted to stay a couple extra days. A few years back, I tried to break into fashion modeling. That was a whirlwind, drug fueled, celebrity meeting/fucking experience that I finally left behind, and moved back to my base in LA," she explained. "So, what about you? Rumor in the class was you were some crazy, whacko Vietnam guy."

"Guess I was," Paul replied with more than a hint of sarcasm, "but I am feeling so much more normal now."

Mary gave that statement a quick acknowledgement, then she began to talk. And talk. While she talked, and talked, she drank and drank. Paul nursed his second PBR while Mary rattled off the name of some exotic drink to the bartender. That was her fourth already; a mixture of at least three liquors and some fruit juices. Paul learned that Mary was going to take LA by storm. She had extensive contacts in "the industry", as apparently, everyone south of Ventura County referred to filmmaking. She mentioned the names of stars Paul thought he may have heard of who were chomping on the bit to give her their

business. As the liquor kicked in, she became a lot more graphic about how far she would go to get it. Soon, Paul felt her hand on his thigh. He moved his leg away, but she did not break contact. Instead she moved her bar stool closer to his.

The irony of the tables being turned was inescapable. How many nights did the Jack Donovan's of the city regale some young assistant with their importance, only to grope the unimpressed young lady, who hoping to avoid a scene, beat a hasty retreat with her friends to find friendlier environs? To prove his surmise correct, Mary moved her hand up to the top of Paul's inner thigh and gave his unit a healthy squeeze.

"What the fuck!" she sputtered when she discovered that while sizable, it was still flaccid. "Are you gay or something? No straight guy has ever been that way when I showed him what I wanted," she said raising her voice noticeably. Paul threw a few bucks on the bar, knowing it would more than cover his bill.

Before he stepped back to leave, he leaned in and spoke into Mary's ear, "Don't worry, honey. This is New York. It should not take more than fifteen minutes to find some guy willing to put up with your bullshit just to get fucked." He turned and headed for the door followed by a string of slurred invective which he had tuned out. As he emerged onto the sidewalk, Paul thought, "That went well."

Dinner was a pastrami sandwich he picked up along with a couple bottles of beer as he headed back to his hotel room. He packed his two suitcases, leaving his clothes for the next two days easily accessible, and turned in for the night. Somehow, he expected he would need all his energy the next day.

The next morning Paul awoke well rested. After showering, he ran across the street, bought two Egg McMuffin's and a copy of the Times. Then back to the room to eat and catch up on the world. At 9:30, he hauled his stuff downstairs and asked the doorman to get him a cab. It took about 20 minutes to get to Joannie's West Side apartment. "Well, early again," he mused. He knocked and waited. There was no answer for a couple minutes. "If she changed her mind, and I have to pay to stay in the city tonight, I am so fucked." Just then her door opened. As Paul stepped through, schlepping his bags into her small front hall, he immediately sensed she was a little apprehensive.

"You really are the early bird," she said. He pulled her in and kissed her lightly. "But that's okay," she continued, "it's just that your surprise is not ready." He kissed her again, this time more passionately. Joannie's knees buckled slightly, and she began to return his kiss. She pulled him into the apartment, and wrapped her arms tightly around him. "I hope you are not disappointed with what I have planned for us today." He was about to answer that there was no way he could be when there was another knock on the door.

Joannie opened it and in walked a 5'3" package of femininity topped by curly, strawberry blond hair. Paul did a quick top-to-bottom assessment. The newcomer had green hazel eyes, perfectly set off by her fair, lightly freckled skin. Continuing down revealed a dove gray silk blouse opened far enough down to show that the partial orbs of flesh it revealed were not supported by anything else. An ivory mini that ended high enough to reveal her slim well-toned legs. Paul did not know much about women's clothes, but her clothes reeked of fashion. High-priced fashion. He noticed a gold Cartier watch on her left wrist along with a gold bracelet on her right that matched the watch band. Finally, he saw the thick gold band topped with what had to be a two-carat diamond that adorned her ring finger. He snapped his head up

and made contact with those fascinating eyes. He hoped the fact that his jaw dropped open went unnoticed.

"Paul, this is my little sister Susan", said Joannie, breaking the spell.

"Does Paul have a last name?" asked Susan.

"O'Brien," Paul managed to get out after a couple seconds.

"Well, Mr. O'Brien," continued Susan, "you looked long enough. Do you approve of what you see?"

A look of confusion crossed Paul's face. He turned to Joannie and asked what was going on. Remembering his manners, he turned back to Susan and replied, "Very much. I am just majorly confused by what is going on here."

"Let's go in the kitchen, have some coffee, and talk for a bit. I think we can clear up Paul's questions," suggested Joannie.

The three of them sat at Joannie's small table, and Joannie broke the ice. Susan was two years younger than Joannie. She has been married for five years to a fast-track Wall Street attorney, who recently learned he will making partner this year. Paul thought that explained the clothes and jewelry. Joannie continued that Susan has become frustrated with her husband David as he has pursued his career. The long hours required by the job have left little together time, and when David did have some time off, he preferred to spend it with his testosterone fueled associates rather than with Susan. Today, for example he was going to the Yankees game, followed by drinks and dinner then more drinks with his buddies. By the time the cab would drop him off, he will capable only of staggering in and passing out.

"Last night, David was to be at the office late, so Susan called and asked if I could join her for dinner. The first half was taken up by Susan venting about her situation. I suspected something was amiss, but I didn't think it was this bad. Then, Susan asked what I had been up to. Boy, did she get an earful. I could not get the words out fast enough to describe this man who had jumped into my life. We are very close, and I am afraid I got into rather graphic detail describing the most amazing sex I have not only ever had, but that I could imagine."

"I instantly hatched a plot to get some of that for myself," interjected Susan. "As Joannie described it all in lurid detail, I realized I was getting extremely aroused. By aroused, I mean soaking wet. When Joannie said you were coming back today, I told her I would be here," she finished.

"Joannie," Paul asked, "are you okay with this?"

"I admit I was taken aback initially," she answered, "but when Susan explained what you might call the rules of engagement, I warmed up to it. If you recall the story I told you about my teen years, what I left out was just how close Susan and I became while resisting our overbearing mother. Shortly after we discovered we were both masturbating, we found that having a helping hand from another person can make the experience so much more intense. One thing led to another, and before a year had passed, we were doing pretty much everything two women can do to pleasure each other. We have never told anyone else about it. And we have never sought other women's company that way. Outside of our

shared bedroom back then, we have both been totally straight heterosexual. So, we are no strangers to each other in the intimacy department."

"And the rules of engagement are...?" inquired Paul.

"Okay, here goes," stated Susan, "they may seem weird, but they are my rules, and the main part is non- negotiable. Paul, you can use me in any way, or tell me to please you in any way, except for vaginal intercourse. Two reasons for that: I am not on any type of birth control, and since my pussy is the only thing David seems interested in, I will consider myself within the bounds of my marital vows by keeping that exclusive to him. Fucking weird, as I said, but if I don't get some release soon, I cannot be held responsible for my actions.

"Since I will only be here a few hours, I will be the focus of your attention. After I leave, Joannie is welcome to you, or what is left of you until you have to leave tomorrow. Can you play by those rules? If you can, we will get it on right now. If not, no harm, no foul; I will get up and go home. You will never know what you missed."

Paul, sat seemingly engrossed in thought. He had actually mentally agreed halfway through her recitation, but he did not want to seem too eager. Slowly, he nodded his head. "Yes, I can agree with that," he said finally. "While you and I are engaged, what will Joannie's role be?" Joannie jumped in saying she would watch and contribute in any way she felt would enhance the pleasure.

Susan stood up and unbuttoned the last few buttons of her blouse, removed it, and draped it over the back of a chair. Then, she unzipped the back zipper on the mini and wriggled out of it. That was all of it; she pirouetted then extended her arms out to her side. Paul took in the view. Her skin was milk white with light freckles all over. Her B-cup breasts hardly sagged. They were crowned by pale pink areolae with half inch pink nipples protruding straight out. Looking down past her flat stomach to her crotch, he saw swollen outer lips covered by fine hair no darker than that on her head. "Wow," was all Paul could say.

He turned toward Joannie, who had shrugged off the night robe she had been wearing and stood naked next to her sister. He considered the contrast between the two women. Joannie's C-cup breasts had a natural sag, her nipples and the surrounding flesh was dark brown. All her hair was dark and thick. "Are you sure you are sisters?", he asked.

Joannie spoke up, "Our mother was Hungarian, and our dad was Irish. Somehow, the genes seemed to all fall on one side of the fence or the other."

"Either that," offered Susan, "or mom really was fucking the milkman. Dad seemed to believe that more and more as time went on."

Joannie said, "Let Paul get undressed without our stares." She turned Susan's face to hers and kissed her hard and deep. Paul fairly leaped out of his jeans and t-shirt. His erection sprang out in front of him, and he devoured both sisters with his eyes. "Well, sis, it seems like this being a man's greatest fantasy may be true."

"Maybe," Susan spoke softly, "but from what you said, I want to taste his lips, not yours." Not missing the invitation, Paul stepped up to Susan and took her in his arms. He lowered his lips to hers, and when

she surged up to meet his, he backed away. He looked deeply into her green eyes, then lowered his lips again. This time he let them settle gently on hers. No tongue yet, he let the subtle movement of the lips suffice. Susan groaned. Paul's tongue lightly ran over her lips and pulled back. Her lips tried to follow, to capture it. He pressed onto her again and offered his tongue to hers. When she attacked it, trying to suck it between her teeth, he withdrew. She groaned again, but now with impatience.

"We have all the time in the world. You are so primed right now, if you rush to cum now, you will miss the big explosion later," whispered Paul. Then he began the tongue dance again, not letting Susan gain the advantage she desperately wanted. Controlling her the whole time he let the intensity build to a fever pitch. Then, he turned to Joannie and said, "Please take this up anytime."

Joannie stepped behind Susan rubbing her breasts against Susan's back, she pulled her younger sister tight mashing her breasts into her. Paul stood in front of Susan, their kiss becoming deeper and more passionate. He stepped back as Joannie's hands cupped her sister's breasts from behind. She massaged them gently. Susan began to make very sensuous noises.

Paul walked her to the bed, and had her lie down where he could continue lower and Joannie kneeling beside Susan could assist. Once they were situated, Paul focused his attention on Susan's breasts. He lowered his lips to her right nipple and let them slide over it so lightly she could not tell whether the nipple was in his mouth or not. Obedient to Paul's instructions, Joannie began to kiss Susan deeply. Susan began to undulate her hips, but Paul made sure she could rub her pussy. He squeezed her right breast and his lips moved to the left one. He slowly sucked the nipple between his lips, feeling the internal tissue relax and it extended further. His tongue flicked over the tip. Susan groaned through Joannie's kiss.

Paul began kissing his way down across Susan's stomach to the wispy hairs of her pubic bush. He had never seen such fine hair there. Paul ran it thorough his fingers just enjoying the feel of it. Susan lifted her hips trying to make more solid contact. "All in due time, love," thought Paul. While he was admiring Susan's pubic garden, Joannie had moved her focus to her sister's tits. Susan's moans told him she was being somewhat less gentle than Paul had been. Paul parted her hair and entwining his fingers on each side, he pulled her lips apart. He had never seen such a pink sight as what greeted him. As her labia majora parted, her inner lips unfurled like a blossom, two magnificent petals joined at the apex by the fleshy hood of Susan's clitoris. They glistened with her juices, and he could tell from the large wet spot on the mattress that those juices had been flowing for some time.