Tuesday, May 18, 2010

You've Been There, I'm Sure

I was tired from two long days of driving after all. And Sparkle had been asleep when I got to her place that Friday night. So, after she sucked me off, we soon fell asleep together in her bed at the back of the first floor of the house. It was one of those nights where you go from sound sleep... to being roused from your slumber... to fucking... and then back to sleep. Lather and repeat. Don’t bother rinsing. You’ve been there I’m sure.

I awoke to the first light coming through the blinds. Sparkle was still asleep. I got up, wandered off to the bathroom, and then got back into bed. Despite the strenuous activity throughout the night I felt pretty rested-- but not eager to get out of bed for the day. I didn’t need to be back on the road until Sunday morning and I wondered what an entire Saturday hanging out with Sparkle might entail. I wondered how she dressed these days. All I had seen her wear so far was that kimono-like robe and I wondered if she still wore clothes to shock people or if she had started to fit in more.

She was on her left side facing away from me. When I had gotten back into bed I lifted the covers enough that she was visible from the top of her blonde head down to her snow white ass. I was starting to think quite a bit about that big, round ass when she stirred. She slipped out of bed without a word and walked, naked, to the bathroom. She came back a few minutes later. I watched every bounce and quiver as she stepped back to the bed and got back under the covers. She had her back to me again but was about a foot closer than she had been. I ran my right hand from her shoulder down to the curve of her waist to her hip and then over her smooth ass. Without a word she slid back towards me, still on her side. She pushed her ass back a little further.

I assumed that was a good sign, so I gathered some of her hair up in my left hand and held on firmly while I slid my right slowly down her bare back and over her ass until I reached between her legs and found her wet slit. As I got there she rolled over onto her tummy. I followed her lead until I was up on my knees behind her. I got her by the hips and pulled her back until she was on her knees with her head on the bed and her arms stretched in front of her. I slid my cock into her soaked pussy remembering the time she squirted all over my bed two years prior. I pressed down with both hands on the small of her back and began to drive in and slide back out. Sparkle had drained me good over the course of the evening. I felt like my balls couldn’t possibly come up with another drop of jizz, but that wasn’t going to stop me from banging away at her slippery cunt.

I was reasonably sure she was enjoying this latest go as I soldiered on. I kept one hand on her back and reached forward with the other to catch her hair and pull her head back. As I did that she growled, “Smack my ass, Daddy.” I still had no idea where this "Daddy" stuff was coming from, but it didn’t bother me. I gave her big ass an open hand swat and drove into her as deep as I could.

By the time we finished, exhausted, both of her cheeks were pink, warm, and glowing.

We were silent for a while as our heart rates slowed and our breathing got back to normal. We talked a bit about nothing in particular. Then I asked her what she wanted to do over the course of the day ahead of us. She said we could do anything and go anywhere... except for about a two hour period in the mid-afternoon when she had something to do. She said she had to go out for a while.

“No problem. Something for school, work….?” I said.
“Uh, nah. I promised this guy I’d meet him for coffee,” she said.
I tried not to let anything show on my face.
“Like a date?” I said.
“No. Not really a ‘date’. He’s been asking me out forever… an older guy… and I keep making excuses… but he keeps trying... so I finally said 'OK' to a cup of coffee.”
“So, you figured with me in town it was a good time to go out with him?”
“The other way around, jerk. I didn’t even know you were going to be here until a few days ago if you recall, ass. I had already agreed to do this... to meet him when you called. I didn’t say to you, ‘sorry but I’m busy’… I told you to stay here, with me, ya know.”

Arguing with that would be stupid. So I just smiled and said it was all cool with me. But she could have told him that something had come up and that she’d have to postpone their coffee date if she really wanted to. I knew that. She knew that. She knew that I knew that—which is why she called me a jerk and an ass. She was making a strong offense be her defense.

You’ve been there, I’m sure.

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Pause: Driving Dad

Over the past couple of years I’ve taken some long road trips with my elderly father.
He’s of an age where helping with the driving is out of the question. Couple that fact with my desire to not stop overnight on these drives and you get the conclusion that I’m driving about twelve hours straight on these trips. I don't mind the driving. I've flown enough for a lifetime and don't care if I ever get on an airplane again.

Dad sleeps a good bit as we roll down the highway. When he does I turn the satellite radio up and the hours slip by effortlessly. When he’s awake he likes to read. Which wouldn’t be a problem except that he reads billboards. Aloud. It seems rude to drown him out with the radio so I turn it down and listen to the advertising messages of a variety of establishments, services, and causes.

On a recent trip he had just read a McDonald’s sign to me and asked me what they met by “PlayPlace”. I told him that it meant that particular outlet had a place where a parent could let a child crawl on hard plastic balls that other kids had sneezed, pee’d, and drooled on while drinking coffee and sending text messages to people. He looked at me like I had told him that Martians had built the Eiffel Tower in 1825.

“No. What is it?” he said.
“Ya know, like a playground,” I said.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of those at a…uh... a...”
“Yeah. At McDonald’s,” he said.
“When’s the last time you went to a McDonald’s?”
He pondered that for a second and then read the upcoming billboard, “Wendy’s Exit 64.”

“Do you want to stop at Wendy’s?” I asked.

We went along with the radio low and dad reading aloud every road sign and billboard he saw.
I was learning so much about the hotels, restaurants, scenic attractions, insurance agents, as well as that the Lord was my savior.

A few miles down the road I saw a billboard approaching and wondered if he would read it to me. It was this one….

He read it to himself and didn’t make a noise as we passed it. I tried not to laugh or even smile.

A mile or two went by and he finally said, “You know something I never understood?”
“No. What, dad?”
“Why you always had such good looking girls… you know, why you always went out with such pretty girls.”
“Gee. Uh, thanks dad.”
“What?” he said.
“Nuthin', dad.”
“I mean you weren’t the star ballplayer in school... you were a good kid... but there sure were some lookers around the house.”
I just shook my head.

“Dad, you can’t remember what I made for dinner last night, how do you know whether I dated good-looking girls back when I lived at home?”
“Pork chops?” he said after a pause.
“Steak!" I said, "But what made you think about my old girlfriends anyway?”
I smiled waiting to see if he’d own up to the blond on the billboard being the reason his thoughts had wandered toward pretty girls.

Silence for a couple of miles.

“Who was the girl from work you dated for a while?”
From work… from work… from work.

Then I realized that “work” meant where he worked for thirty-some years, not where I did.
“You mean from summers at the plant?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Her dad worked there with me, right?”
“You must mean Sharon. Yeah, dad. He was the HR guy,” I said.
That got a blank look.
Personnel. He was the head of plant personnel.”

“Right. That’s right. Kind of an odd fella. Cute girl though.”
“Yeah dad. She passed away several years ago.”
“Really? That’s too bad,” he said.
“Yeah. Mom told me that she had breast cancer and then a while after that she sent me the obituary. She had two sons in high school when she passed away.”

“Didn’t you go with her and another girl to Nashville one weekend?”
“Louisville!” he said as if he actually knew that was right.
“You didn’t drive. They picked you up in a muscle car,”
“Yep. A Camaro. It belonged to her sister’s friend-- she was driving.”
“That's right. That girl was a real looker too. Your mother worried all weekend,” he said.
“Not you though, huh dad?”
He made a sound that must be what is called a guffaw.

“No. Still can’t figure it out though.”

More miles went under the wheels of my truck.

“Who was the girl who lived over behind the shopping center?”
I thought a while.
“Denise. You’re thinking of Denise.”
He wasn’t sure. The name Denise didn't ring any bells.

“There was one with really long straight black hair. Spanish girl.”
“She’s half Mexican, dad. Her mother is Mexican-American.”
Beautiful girl,” dad said.
“She lives near Chicago last I knew. Married with kids. Mom used to run into her mom at Kroger’s and they kept up with all that stuff,” I said.

A few more miles went by.

He must have started worrying about bringing up the subject of my ex-girlfriends.
“Of course, the mother of my grandsons is just outstanding,” he said.
“Well, dad, you said yourself I always punched above my weight class.”

He looked puzzled.

“It's a saying. I meant I went out with women who were too good for me,” I said.

“Ha!” he said, “Never could understand it.”

Then he went back to sleep and I turned the radio back up. He didn't know the half of it.