17 comments/ 48563 views/ 112 favorites She Hates Me? Not! Pt. 01: Monica By: ilikeithot6308 Another new storyline...and parts of this one actually happened! I won't say which parts, and I admit they are a small part of the story, but hey, I was there! All characters are consenting adults, and over the age of eighteen. Please send me some feedback and comments for future consideration, and cast your votes when you're done. I've noticed that the number of people who actually vote after reading had waned lately, so please, click those stars. It only takes a second. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I first met Monica in my senior year of high school. She made quite an impression. I know, because I remember it like it was yesterday. I was walking down the hallway with a gaggle of my cronies, talking about every eighteen year old male's favourite subject...girls...when she stepped out of a classroom in front of us, going the same way we were. "Jesus! Will you look at the ass on her?" my friend Craig gasped. I didn't need him to point her out to me, as I saw the bum in question immediately. She truly looked like she was poured into her jeans. The word 'tight' doesn't do it justice. The jeans fit her perfectly formed ass like a denim second skin, accentuating every curve. She had undoubtedly the most attention-grabbing rump in the school, the perfect balance between youthful resilience and womanly maturity. It flowed up into a taut, narrow waist, and down into a pair of legs that were long, lean and moving quite gracefully. Her hair was a dirty blonde colour, pretty straight, but with a gentle wave to it, and hung down her back to nearly halfway. "What's her name?" I asked, trying to maintain my reputation as the cool one of our group. We weren't a cool group, trending more toward the geek end of the high school social spectrum, but I was the level headed one. "Monica," Alan said. He was the drooler of the gang, and was staring at her ass as it wiggled along ahead of us. "Don't know her last name." "Pud-something," Mark laughed. "I think her family is Polish. If you like the rear view, you should see the front. She's in my History class." "Really?" I asked. "I'd like to see that." I was referring to the 'front view', not the History class. We reached the end of the hallway. My locker, and most of my buddies' as well, were to the right, but Monica went left, turning up the stairs. I followed, despite the fact that we were headed to lunch. It was worth missing a few minutes of free time to get a look at this beauty. One other student was between her and I, but that just put her ass at a more convenient viewing height while climbing the stairs, and the view was remarkable. Even better, there was a landing midway up, where the stairs turned 180 degrees to continue. Mark says the front is as good as the back. We'll see, I thought. She reached the landing, and turned. Mark, buddy, I'll never doubt your opinion again. How do you say 'wow' in Polish? She was gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous, with huge blue eyes, and a truly beautiful face. My first impression was that she looked a little like Paulina Porizkova, the former Sports Illustrated swimsuit model. I was so taken with those eyes that I almost missed her chest, which was obscured by her armload of books, but looked quite ample. I followed her all the way to her locker, which turned out to be in the upper hallway, above my own. I'd like to say that I stopped and talked to her, but I wasn't that cool and confident. No, I just walked on by, checking her out for as long as possible. That pretty much summed up my involvement with her. Call it silently lusting from afar. Well, that was it, until the beach party. Then things changed. It was a typical high school get together. A diverse selection of cliques. More like several concurrent parties happening in close proximity to one another...until the football came out. A game of catch that just kept growing until it became a too big, two teams were picked, and it was on. It was a mix of guys and girls, and despite that, the girls wanted to play tackle. None of the guys were going to argue, because you tackle with your hands, so it meant getting to touch. Most of the game was uneventful. The tackling was gentle, and the licensed groping was kept to a minimum. I was perhaps a little too into the score of the game, so when Monica (you remember her, right?) caught the kickoff and ran forward, I moved in to stop her. A scrum of bodies appeared in my path, and I weaved through them, diving to the right to tackle her. I swear, as God is my witness, I didn't intend what happened. I was just trying to get a hand on her...not get a hand on her, um, boobs. Quite the way to introduce yourself, but not recommended. Anyway, I brought her down, with a handful of her sweatshirt and her left breast. Since I landed on top of her, and my hand was trapped under us, all she had to do is follow the arm, from my still full hand, up to my face, and the culprit was identified. She glared at me, those beautiful blue eyes full of anger, while I tried to extricate my hand. "Sorry," was the extent of the conversation, as I apologized and stepped away. What was I supposed to say... "Hi, I'm Dave. Those are really nice tits. What are you doing Saturday night?" The game broke up, and the party soon after. I felt awful, pardon to pun. *** Nearly two years passed. I completely forgot about Monica, her perfect ass, blue eyes, dirty blonde hair, and soft, luscious breasts. See? Hardly remember anything about her, at all. I got invited to a party, more of a backyard barbecue / potluck. I only knew the person that invited me, but maybe I'd find someone interesting there to talk to. I arrived at the address I was given, parking on the street. My contribution to the meal was an extra large pizza with nearly everything on it, demonstrating my distinct lack of cooking skills. I walked up to the front door, and rang the bell. There was a name plate next to the door. P-U-D-Z-I-A-N-O-W-S-K-I. I was mentally trying to get my tongue around that when the door opened. A rather attractive older woman stood there, looking strangely familiar. Something about her eyes...but before I could figure it out, she just waved me in. "Hi," she smiled, "I'm Karlyn. Everybody's out back." "I'm Dave," I said, offering my hand, which she took graciously. "May I ask...how is your last name pronounced?" "Just the way it's spelled," she laughed. Obviously not the first time she'd had the question, she continued, "the easiest way is POOJ-YAN-OWSKI." "Poojyankowski," I repeated, incorrectly, despite her succinct example. "Not 'kowski', she said,"... 'nowski'. Pooj-yan-owski. Look, just call me Karly...it's easier." I walked into the kitchen, placed the pizza box on the countertop, and turned to go out to the backyard. "You! What the hell are you doing here?" the voice said, and I looked up, startled. There was a tall, beautiful blonde standing a few feet away, shooting daggers from her incredible blue eyes. "Monica?" I asked, stunned. Shit! *** I should have just left, saving myself from the embarrassment of having her tell everyone about the reason why she hated me. That would have been the smart thing to do, but that's about when my friend, the one that invited me to this little gathering, saw me, and dragged me outside. He introduced me around to some of his new acquaintances, almost distracting me enough to forget about Monica. I say 'almost', because every time I happened to cross paths with her, she gave me that look again, reminding me that me first meeting with her, almost two years ago, hadn't ended well. It also reminded me how wonderfully soft and sexy her breast had felt in my hand, the reason for the nasty looks. When the dinner bell rang, the entire herd thundered inside to load up their plates with food, then filtered back out to eat. When I came out, I noticed that Monica was sitting by herself, off to the side. My presence had sullied her mood, and she was trying not to let that fact ruin the fun for everyone. I had to say something. She had her head down, and didn't see me approach. "Monica?" I asked quietly. She looked up, and her eyes flared again. "What do you want?" she spat. "May I sit down? I want to apologize...again, for what happened, and for ruining your fun today." I spoke softly, begging forgiveness, but two years builds up a lot of scar tissue. "I don't care," she grumbled, "Go ahead and sit. It's a free country...just stay over there, and don't touch me." "Thank you," I said, taking a seat out of touching range. "Who are you here with?" I thought small talk might help loosen her up. Think again. "It's my fucking house, and my fucking party!" she growled. Oh shit...that really means I need to fix this, or I'll forever be the guy that felt her up, then ruined her party. Not that I had higher aspirations than 'tolerated acquaintance', I just didn't like being the 'hated vermin'. "Monica," I said, putting my plate aside and turning to face her. I was still no Lothario, but I had learned that if you want a woman to take your words seriously, you give her your undivided attention. "I owe you a huge apology. There's no excuse for what happened on the beach that day. All I can say is that it was an accident, and I'm very, very sorry. I hope it didn't cause you any embarrassment. I don't expect you to forget, but if you could find it in your heart to forgive me, I would be grateful." There was a long silence, while she contemplated her response. "Why do you care if I hate your guts?" she asked, with less venom. "We're not friends, and we never were." "True," I replied, "but no one likes to be despised, especially by a beautiful woman." Another thing I had learned...compliments, as long as they're genuine, are never wasted. Her eyes softened slightly. "Thank you," she whispered. "Apology accepted...but you stay over there anyway!" She looked back at me, and I saw something I never thought I would from her ; a smile. Just a little one, but there it was, replacing the loathing that had been previously evident. "I guess it's partly my fault. I mean, all us girls knew what being 'tackled' meant. It's not like we should have been surprised that we had hands on us, and you weren't the only one who made that kind of contact. You were just the only one who grabbed my boob." She slid a little closer, breaking the 'no touch zone'. A symbolic gesture, perhaps? "Thank you for apologizing. You didn't have to...it's not like I was publicly demanding it...and that says a lot about you. I misjudged you." She smiled again. "Well, it's understandable," I laughed. "Most people introduce themselves with a handshake, not a...handful. Feel free to touch me in an inappropriate place, if you feel it will balance things." Okay, that last bit was a bit much, but I was joking. A little. It worked. She laughed, and a full fledged smile broke out on her face. What a smile it was, too, so bright, free and sexy. I noticed her lips. Previously, they had been tight, pursed in anger, but now they relaxed, pouting slightly, plump and delicious looking, the classic 'Cupid's bow' shape to them. I wondered how soft they were, and how it might feel to kiss them. She was, after all, so very beautiful. "I think I'll let you off the hook," she giggled, "only because you'd probably enjoy it!" "Rats!" I laughed, snapping my fingers. "My strategy has been discovered!" I picked up my plate, and we ate in silence for a few seconds. She was close enough that I could smell her perfume. I saw her tongue flick out across her lips, retrieving stray crumbs. I stole a few glances at her boobs, cradled softly in a lacy white bra that showed through her v-neck t-shirt of the same colour, displaying a teasing inch of cleavage. They looked as soft as they felt, I recalled, matching the view with the indelibly preserved memory of her breast filling my hand. Don't stare, jackass! I thought. You just got out of the doghouse, so behave! "Um, so let me see if I can get this right," I said, breaking the vacuum. "Pooj-yan-owski?" "Yes!" she gasped, raising her hand for a high five. "Did you hurt your tongue?" The look in her eyes was warm. I laughed, and shook my head. I do hope you're asking that for a reason, I thought. *** It was about an hour later that Monica appeared at the back door, tossing a football up in the air. She was wearing an oversized football jersey, with a number '12' on it. She caught my eye, and smiled. "Okay," she called out, "I'm one captain, and my Mom is the other one." Karly walked out behind her, wearing her own jersey, number '44'. She did a little pirouette, and took a bow. I couldn't help thinking that she was pretty hot, an older version of her daughter, and that she wasn't showing the mileage. I also thought that '44' might be appropriate advertising for her measurements, as she appeared pretty top heavy, also like her daughter, but bigger. The schoolyard pick began, and I was surprised when Monica took me first. I joined her, and she giggled. "Sorry," she whispered in my ear while her Mother was picking her first player, "but I figured the best way to protect myself was to make sure we were on the same team." She smiled, and winked. I liked her sense of humour. Being her friend was already much better than being her enemy. A few minutes later, there were two teams of six ready to play, and the rest of the party taking places as an audience. Each team had three women, including the captains, and three guys. The yard was perfect for this sort of thing ; big, flat, smooth and open. As the teams wandered to opposite ends of the 'field', I asked Karly about the rules. "Two hand touch?" I suggested. She looked at me incredulously. "What? Are you some kind of wimp?" she laughed, getting her jab in. "Afraid you'll get hurt by the girls? No touch...tackle!" I looked at Monica, who was spinning the ball in her hands, and she grinned, and shrugged. "Two brothers," she said, by way of explanation. Okay, tackle it is, I thought. Keep your hands low. The opening kickoff, or toss, came to me, and I started to return it, only to come face to face with Karly, who was charging at me. There was going to be an obvious distraction factor every time I saw her, as her big boobs bounced under the jersey. My eyes flitted down to those big globes, providing the hesitation she needed, and I found myself ploughed under by her tackle. She had good form...the tackle, I mean. Her own form was much better than merely good. I felt her breasts pressing softly into the back of my thighs as she laid atop me for a few seconds. She patted my ass as she got up, and I glanced at her, surprised. She winked. Monica handed me the ball. "You're the quarterback. I'm going across the middle shallow. Hit me." Now I understood why she had wanted to play that day on the beach. This was a football family, from Mom on down. The competitive attitude, the terminology... the jerseys. She even knew how to throw properly, flicking her wrist as she released it. About the only thing she did like a girl was fill her bra. She ran her pattern crisply, and I connected with her. Karly moved across to make the stop, but Monica put a nice spin move on her Mother and scooted free, running like a gazelle, her hair flying, all the way to the end zone. She spiked to ball and jumped in glee, showing off her own distractive bounce factor. A couple of cup sizes smaller than her Mother, she still had to be at least a D. I was going to be trying to run up the score, if for no other reason than to watch her celebrate. "Nice pass," she laughed, returning my high five. She was glowing, happy to be playing. "Keep it up, and I'll do more than forgive you!" What? Can you repeat that? I think the sun was in my ears. Be still my heart! The toss went to one of the other ladies, who ran it back until someone got close, then just turned into a turtle, dropping to the ground in submission. On their first play from scrimmage, Karly caught a little pass from their quarterback, and took off. She sure didn't run like a girl, let alone a 40 something Mom, and I cut her off with a burst of speed. Hands low, I reminded myself, as she neared. I ducked down under her straight arm, and got a grip around her waist, with a handful...of the hem of her jersey, nothing more. She tried to spin away, and my arm slid down, from her waist to her thigh. It was smooth, and warm. She almost escaped, but I still had her by the jersey, stretching it down. I held her long enough for Monica to show up and finish her off. Now I was laying on the back of Karly's legs, Her firm, round ass, covered by tight yoga shorts, was mere inches from my face. "Nice move, but not today," I laughed, patting her rump in response to her earlier one. She just laughed. It didn't take them long to score, at least partially because my previous tackle had caused Karly's jersey to reveal a bit more of her chest than it had before. Now she was a huge distraction...emphasis on the 'huge' part, as her tits nearly bounced out of her jogging bra /yoga top, and the gaping neckline of the stretched shirt let those dancing globes show off their moves. So it went, tit for tat, as it were. We score...Monica celebrates, getting closer to hugging me each time. Then, they score, because Karly knew her body was getting to me, and she was using that fact to her advantage. It seemed as though no one else even tried to tackle her, leaving me to deal with her, and her shirt was slowly turning into a dress. Well, there was nothing else to grab. Let me rephrase...there was nothing else I should grab, but plenty I wanted to. Everything she was wearing, except the shirt, was skin tight, and either underwear or virtually so. She didn't seem to mind the physical contact, anyway, and I didn't mind getting to grab her, although my stiffening cock was starting to make running more difficult. On one play, when she tackled me, I was sure I felt a hand on my crotch. Just for a second, a brief exploration of the bulge that was taking over...but I swear I felt it. When we unpiled, she had a mischievous little grin on her face, but avoided making eye contact. We scored again, and this time, Monica's celebratory routine included a hug for me. All was truly forgiven, now, and I hugged her back, getting to feel the fullness of her breasts against me. "If we win, I'll let you kiss me," she whispered into my ear. Just what I needed. Incentive. I wondered what had caused this competitive attitude between her and her Mother, but decided to leave sleeping dogs asleep. Karly came charging out of the end zone with the kickoff, determined to make our lead short lived. I settled in front of her, ready to shift either way when she made her move to go around. She was coming fast, and it never occurred to me that her strategy might be more direct. She just ran over me, literally, and I wrapped my arms around her, as much to save myself as stop her. She stumbled over my feet, and we went down. You sometimes forget that football is played with a helmet on for a reason, and that the helmet has a face mask. Think of the old time players with their leather helmets, and unprotected faces. They must have gotten unwanted face fulls of assorted body parts all the time. As Karly and I fell, I got to experience that, first hand. I doubt any of the players of old had such an enjoyably soft body land on them, but I did. Her big rack hit me right in the chops, and she fell flat, mashing my face into those delicious, pillowy boobs. I was pinned between the ground and her breasts, my face buried in her cleavage. As if that wasn't enough, I think one of my hands was on her ass. She Hates Me? Not! Pt. 01: Monica It was an awkward collision, and Monica came running up to see if everyone was alright. Karly had taken some of the weight off my face, by resting on her elbows, but our legs were still entangled, so she couldn't get off. "Are you okay, Mom?" she asked. "Yeah, I'm fine," Karly replied. "Dave... you alive?" I giggled, still wedged in the deep valley between her tits. "Mmmm hmmm," I answered. "There's no hurry. I'm quite happy here. I mean...I can't breathe, but it's not a bad way to die." Karly laughed. "Well, if you want to breathe, you'll have to let go of my ass, and let me up!" My hand jumped off her butt, as if scalded. I hadn't realized it was still there. She carefully rolled off. I laid there, grinning, and sighed. Monica knelt beside my head, and looked down at me. "Okay...that certainly tops accidentally grabbing my boob on the beach. You just motorboated my Mother!" She smiled. "Nice tackle though. A real game saver. Remember, I told you what I'd let you do if we won." "Kiss you?" I breathed, still laying with my eyes closed. I felt the warmth of her breath, before her lips brushed mine softly, then pressed closer. I expected a peck, but soon found her tongue wriggling playfully into my mouth. My arms came up, instinctively wrapping around her to keep her close. "Alright, you two, that'll do, or I'll penalize you for excessive on-field celebration," Karly said from above. I opened my eyes, and she was smiling down at us. "Nice game." She extended her hand, and helped me up. Another smile, and she turned on her heels and walked off. "She's pretty competitive, isn't she?" I asked Monica. "Yeah," she laughed, "you could say that! Always has been. Dad couldn't take it, but I don't blame her. She can't help being who she is, and I love her." I had to remind myself that a few hours ago, Monica Pudzianowski would have been more likely to strangle me than kiss me, and I hadn't even met her Mother. Now, things were patched up with the daughter, who had just given me a very passionate tonsil inspection, and it appeared as though I might be getting stalked by a cougar, in the form of her very buxom and athletic Mother. Could the competition between the two of them include me? Hmmmm. One could only hope. *** The party began to peter out after the football game ended. A few guys came over to congratulate me on the spectacular meeting of my face and Karly's ample chest. They all wanted to know if her breasts were as soft as they appeared to be, but I don't motorboat and tell. Monica and I spent a little time in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher with all the cutlery and serving plates that weren't disposable, and collecting all the trash and items that were. I know it wasn't my party, and not my job to help, but after that kiss, I was willing to put in a few minutes of service, just to see where, if anywhere, this was going. I mean, really... have you seen this woman? What kind of idiot would walk away without giving it a shot? Karly walked into the kitchen. Her hair was wet, so I assume she'd taken a shower to wash the football sweat off her wondrous body, and my slobber off her boobs. She was nicely dressed again, in a loose, casual lounger, that flowed in the breeze as she strode purposefully through the door. "Shower's free," she said to Monica, who gave me a peck on the cheek and ran out. "I'll be back in a minute," she called over her shoulder. "Did you guys clean up already?" Karly asked, looking around the kitchen, and peeking out on the deck. "Yes, Mrs. Pudzianowski," I said. "David," she laughed, "while I do appreciate you learning to pronounce my last name properly...there's just so much wrong with that title. I'm not a 'missus' anymore, and I asked you to call me Karly. I won't even get into the other stuff." She smiled. You mean the part where I had my face buried between your tits? I thought. Your big, delicious, lusciously soft breasts...so full, and round...mmmmm I can almost still feel them pressed firmly against my cheeks... I was awakened from my daydreams by her presence. She was very close to me, and getting closer. Her eyes looked up into mine. "So, you were invited by someone else to this party," she observed, "so you're not Monica's boyfriend. I thought I knew all her friends, but I've never met you before today. What's the story?" She touched me hand, where I was leaning against the counter. I suddenly realized that I was in a corner, and Karly the cougar was toying with her food. "Um, Mrs. Pudzianowski..." I said quietly. "Karly," she whispered. "I told you to call me Karly. You're pretty athletic, David... " her hand ran up my arm,"...My two older sons are both football players, in college. I've always found the players interesting..." The hand now traced my chest. "...their tight little tushies, and strong hands. I like strong hands." She took my hand in hers, stroking it softly. Meow. "I like your hands, David. Would you like to touch me with your hands, David? Maybe right here?" she asked putting her hand over mine, and pressing it on her firm ass, the same cheek where I had touched her during 'the tackle'. "That's nice...I like your hands on my body. Do you like what you feel?" Well, I may not be a genius, but I'm not stupid either. Karly was offering to let me tackle her in private, and if the swelling in my crotch was any indication, my not-so-little friend down there was all for it. I'd never had an older woman, but, with her body so close to mine, I could certainly see the appeal of doing so. She was tight, and built, and still very beautiful, her face far too young looking to have a twenty year old daughter. Wait...she asked me a question. I'd better answer her. "Mmmmm hmmm," I nodded, "you have a wonderful body." "Would you like to feel more of it?" she asked. She leaned closer, grazing my chest with her large breasts, and licking her lips as though ready to kiss me, before spinning away, seconds before Monica came back in, freshly laundered. She certainly had the hearing of a cat. I wouldn't have heard her daughter, and probably would have returned the kiss, getting busted in the process. "Sorry, to keep you waiting, Dave," the younger Pudzianowski goddess said. "Would you like to see a movie with me?" Wow, this family moves fast, I thought. Let's see...dark room, her very close, for hours, potential to make-out very high... Yeah, I can do that. I nodded. "Good. Let's go, or we'll miss the start," she laughed, grabbing my hand and yanking me toward the door. "Don't wait up, Mom," she called over her shoulder as we went. "Okay, sweetie," Karly replied, following us. "I think you're in good hands!" What? After where I'd just been touching her, that comment could not have been accidental. I looked at Karly, and she winked. As soon as the door closed, Monica kissed me. It was soft, but demanding, and she pulled away quickly. "What are we seeing?" I asked. "Who cares?" she replied. "Let's take your car...it's bigger." A wink confirmed that we wouldn't be seeing much of the movie, if we even went at all. We got into my Buick convertible, and started off down the road. I rolled down the window. "Close the window, please?" she asked. "I just thought, well I'm all sweaty still, and you had a shower, so I don't want to stink you out," I explained. "Close the window," she repeated, no longer a question. I did. "That's better," she sighed, inhaling deeply and scooting closer on the bench seat. "Can't waste that delicious, sexy man scent. Now, find us a nice quiet place to park this beast." "No movie?" I asked, smiling. "No movie," she whispered, giving me a look that appeared ready to spontaneously combust. "Just moves. Put some moves on me, David." Right. Parking spot...let's see, someplace quiet, secluded, private. Make-out spots would be full by now...need someplace new, off the beaten path, away from prying eyes. Think. Aha! Minutes later, we were parked at the end of a road, tucked into some trees on one side, and hidden by a berm of soil on the other. You'd have to practically drive over us to find us. "Nice!" Monica whispered, nodding. "So, you wanna talk now, or after you fuck me?" Like I said, this family moves fast. "Monica! Were you this bad in high school?" I asked. "Ha! No!" she giggled, snuggling closer. She sniffed me again, and I felt her shudder in my arms. "Mmmmm, I love the smell of a man," she moaned, kissing me again. She was getting pretty worked up. "You were saying?" I whispered, when she let my mouth perform another function besides kissing her. "Oh...yeah. No, I was a good girl then. Did you know you grabbed the breast of a virgin? That's probably why I was so upset. I hadn't even been on very many dates, and never let anyone touch me," she whispered, her lips still just inches from mine. "Touch me now, David. I want you to. Touch my breasts, please." Her lips were on me as soon as she finished the sentence, and she sought out my hand with hers, dragging it up to press it against the soft, round fullness of her right breast. She moaned. I squeezed the resilient globe softly, and she moaned again, her tongue thrusting wildly into my mouth. We came up for air. "What changed?" I asked her. "Do you really want to know?" she breathed. "You've got me curious," I chuckled. I kissed her neck, and she groaned. I wondered what switch got flipped, that turned an eighteen year old, good girl virgin into the wanton sexpot currently vibrating like a tuning fork in my arms. Not that I was complaining. "Okay, I'll tell you," she said quietly. "I finally found a guy who didn't just try to feel me up every time we were together. I wasn't in love with him or anything, but this was farther than I'd ever been, relationship wise. His name was Mike...I don't think you knew him, but he went to our school. Anyway, I came home one day, and the house was real quiet, except for a strange sound coming from upstairs." She took a breath, and it quivered. Just telling the story was turning her on even more. "I followed the sound up the stairs, and then I could hear what it was ; mostly my Mother's voice, moaning in passion, telling whomever was in her bed to fuck her harder, that sort of thing. It was the first time I'd ever heard such a thing, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. My pussy instantly got wetter than it ever had, and I was so turned on...Oh fuck, I'm so fucking horny right now! Can't you just fuck me, and we'll talk about it later?" she begged, her hand falling to caress my rock hard bulge. "See? You're hard...fuck me with this nice, hard cock." "Patience, my little darling," I said, fondling her more enthusiastically. Her blouse was open, and my hand was inside it, feeling the warmth of her breast, and the stiffness of her nipple poking through her bra. "There's no rush. I'm going to let you have what you want, but I'd like to hear the rest." You're fucking right I want to hear the rest. Who was Karly fucking? "Okay," she relented, resuming the story, "so by now, I'm standing just outside the bedroom door. I'm listening to Mom groaning, and hearing the 'slap' of their bodies as they fucked. My nipples are like two hat pegs, just like they are now..." she gasped, pulling my mouth to one of the extremely erect buds, which I had just exposed by pushing her bra cup down, "... and I'm rubbing myself through my jeans." I put my hand down there, only to find her own hand already in place, reenacting it as she told it. She relinquished her place, allowing my hand to take over. Her pussy was a furnace, blazing hot, and the dampness was beginning to penetrate her tight jeans. "So, I hear the guy, whoever her is, grunting, and Mom goes nuts screaming 'oh yes, cum for me you stud! Cum all over my big tits!' and stuff like that, then I hear the guy grunting again and he yells. Mom is moaning, and I don't know what's happening, and I... I... I... " "You what?" I asked, unlatching from her nipple and looking up into her eyes, which had a glazed look to them as she recounted the story. My fingers were still rubbing her pussy. "I opened the door!" she giggled, and shuddered gently. "Oh god!" she gasped as her head went back against the seat, and she actually had a small orgasm from the thought alone. Well, maybe my lips and fingers helped a little. "I opened the door," she breathed, "and there, kneeling over my Mother, with cum still dripping out of his big fat cock onto Mom's big melons...was Mike!" Okay. I almost came, myself. I did know Mike, by the story only, that had circulated around the school, about him fucking this older woman. He was a hero, but I always thought it was just some bullshit urban legend. To now find out it was true was mind blowing. To find out it was Karly was... Oh my god! "What? Mike and your Mother? You caught them? Holy shit!" I groaned. That explains a few things, I thought. At least about Karly's appetite. "Were you mad?" "That's the funny thing," she whispered, turning to face me, now happy to talk. "I guess I should have been. I mean, he was my boyfriend, such as it was...but no, I wasn't mad, I was just unbelievably turned on. He's there with that big dick hanging out...his cum all over my Mother's chest, and this 'oh shit' look on his face...but I'm not mad at all. I remember the smell. It was the most erotic thing ever. Then Mom just asks if I want to join them!" Blammo! No, that wasn't me cumming in my pants...that was my mind exploding! It appeared I might be going down the same path as Mike. Hallelujah! "What did you do?" I asked. "I joined them!" she giggled, pulling her blouse off. Her bra followed, unveiling those near perfect breasts to me fully. They were so pretty. She pushed me back against the door, and started to work in getting my pants off. "Mike had a nice cock, and he got my cherry... well, my pussy cherry, anyway...that day, while Mom watched and coached me. Ever since then, well... " she succeeded in freeing my dick, and it sprung out at her." Holy shit, Dave! I think I'm going to like this! Nice cock! Way bigger than Mike's! Wow!" She had my pole in both hands, and there was a little bit of shaft left over that she couldn't cover. She rubbed it across her face, and sniffed it. I'd never heard of a woman so sensitive to scent, but Monica was certainly driven wild by the smell of sex. Her mouth opened wide, and she plunged it over my dick, swallowing at least half my cock on the first pass. She pulled back, and the second gulp took almost all the rest. My god! She sucked cock like a pro! I hoped she leaned it from Mom. I just laid back and let her go to town. It wasn't long before her lips and tongue had combined with the previous events of the day, and her more than mildly arousing storytelling skills, to bring me to the cusp. I felt a warning was the least I could do. "Shit, Mon... ica, holy... Gonna cum! NoooOOW!" She moaned and swallowed happily, as I poured what felt like several gallons of hot man juice down her throat. She just kept on sucking, even after there was nothing left to shoot, and pushed right through that 'oh my god it's too sensitive' stage without pause, making sure I stayed hard for her next act. Mission accomplished. Her jeans put up a fight, but she merely stood up outside the car to peel them off. It gave me an idea. I flipped the key on, unlocked the top, and pushed the button. About thirty seconds later, the bright stars were our ceiling, as the convertible top folded back into its place. "Ooooooo, al fresco fucking! I like it!" She straddled my spear, and dropped slowly onto it. "No condom?" I asked. "No condom," she confirmed. "First, I'm on the pill... Second, I'm clean...and third..."she hissed, reaching bottom and moaning softly,"...I just like it better bareback. I like to feeeeel it. I'm sure feeling it now. Shit, that's a big dick!" She paused for a second and looked at me funny. "I suppose Mom made a move on you already?" Cat, get out of the bag! "Um, yeah," I admitted, while Monica rode my cock gently, dragging her boobs deliciously up and down my chest as she did. "She's very direct." Monica laughed. "That's an understatement! I'm surprised I didn't come back from my shower to find her on her knees, sucking your cock like a fiend." She kept bouncing on my lap, getting a bit more frenzied now. "Another minute or two, and that might have been the case. She was coming on pretty strong," I said, watching her fuck herself toward orgasm. She looked beautiful in the moonlight. "Well, then we'd be doing this in her bed," Monica groaned, getting closer, "taking turns fucking the living shit out of you, until you passed out! I beat her to the fuck, this time!" Her arms raised over her head in victory." I win!" she screeched, her moans echoing off the trees in the still night air. She came hard, shuddering in my arms and nearly falling over as the throes of delight overtook her senses. Finally, her thrusts slowed, and she wilted in my embrace. "Oh boy. Ohboyohboyohboy, oh...boy. That was a good one," she whispered, turning her head weakly to kiss me. "Ever had a bad one?" I asked. She giggled. "No, I don't suppose I have." Her lips were on mine again, the passion returning as she recovered. "Can I get another one?" she asked coyly. "Should I save some for Karly?" I inquired, playfully. "Not tonight. You're all mine, tonight," she said, kissing me again, and grinding her still-impaled cunt down hard against me. "Every hard inch of you, all mine." "Okay, baby," I said, jerking my thumb over my shoulder, "in the back seat. On your knees, leaning over the trunk." "Oh my...a man who knows what he wants!" she giggled, lifting off my dick. "Especially good when he wants me!" She climbed over the seat back, and stood up, stretching like a sexy cat in the moonlight. I followed her, and reached around to hold her breasts in both hands. She leaned back against me and moaned. "On my knees?" "On your knees," I directed. She dropped out of my arms, and did as asked. The smooth curves of her ass gleamed in the soft glow from above. I knelt behind her. "Oh my god!" I gasped. "What?" she asked. "Something wrong?" "Oh no. I just never in my wildest dreams thought I'd get this chance," I laughed, putting my hands on her perfect hips. "You have the most beautiful ass I've ever seen." She giggled, and wagged it at me. "You like it?" she asked. "Oh yeah. I have since I first saw you, walking out of Mr. Walton's geography class, and walking down hallway West Three. You know...I actually had an 8x10 of your butt on my locker door. Took the picture myself." Monica laughed, and looked over her shoulder at me. "So you're the one!" she giggled. "One of my friends said she saw a picture on a locker door that looked like me, but we never found you.. Is my bum still photo worthy?" "Yuh huh! You know, I probably still have it. Maybe you could autograph it for me?" I said. "I have some friends who would pay big bucks for it. Bigger bucks to do this." I pushed into her pussy again. "Oh yes," she moaned. "For a second, I thought you were going to tap my ass!" "Maybe another day," I grunted, driving into her hard. "Just say when," she whispered. "Any day, any time. I Love it." Conversation stopped abruptly as some headlights lit up the trees behind us. The berm hid us, especially with the top down on the car, but instinct told us we were nearly caught having sex in public. Personally, it made my heart race a little, but to Monica, it apparently had an extreme aphrodisiac effect. She Hates Me? Not! Pt. 01: Monica Seconds after the car turned away, plunging us back into darkness, she became talkative again, but the subject had changed. "Oh fuck...I'm going...fuck!...gonna cum! Fuck me! Fuck me so hard! Fuck meeee!" I was slamming my hips forward, bludgeoning that perfect, pillowy ass furiously, and she was squealing with joy. Her moans were now just wordless noises of lust, telling me quite adequately that she was enjoying the abuse. Bent over the back seat, she had a grip on the folded car top, and I could hear her tits slapping the cool metal of the trunk lid as they swung wildly. Her pussy was a heavenly velvet vise, absolutely drenched with her juices. She twisted her body slightly and looked into my eyes. "Fuck...me...ba...by... Oh...yes...fuck...me!" she hissed appreciatively. "I'm...cum...ming! Oh...yes...cum...ming!" Her eyes closed, and herbrow scrunched tightly, registering the pleasure she was feeling. Her cunt gripped my dick, fluttering in a staccato rhythm of spasms that gradually eased as the waves passed. Finally, she dropped limply on the car, resting her face on the metal. "Ooooooo fuuuuck. More please." I laughed, and leaned closer to her ear. "Monica...repeat after me, please," I whispered. "Hello, my name is Monica..." I began, like introducing her at an A.A. meeting. "Mmmmm, my name is Monica..." she giggled. "... And I'm a sexaholic," I continued. "... I'm a sexaholic," she repeated, then took the lead. "I'm a very bad girl, who likes to fuck nice big cocks like yours, and cum as often as I can. I'm a dirty, filthy cum slut...and I like it that way!" "Anything else?" I asked. "Yes," she laughed. "More please!" It didn't take us long to reposition ourselves. Monica was on her back, on the hood of the car, while I stood beside the fender, drilling her hard. The moonlight shone down, letting me see her tits swinging and wobbling on her chest in response to my thrusts. I watched for a while, relishing the sight, then placed a hand on each breast, using them as handles to pull her back against me with each stroke. She was moaning, and I was grunting, our sexual vocalizations resonating through the dark, leaving no doubt to anyone who might have heard, as to what was happening. "Are you getting close?" she asked. I grunted in the affirmative. "Cum on my tits, please? I Love the feel of hot cum on my tits. It's so sexy, and smells incredible." While she had been explaining her request, I had been fucking her harder, and had passed the point of no return. "Ready?" I groaned, yanking my dick free of her dripping snatch. She clambered down, and knelt on the dewy grass before me. I heard it...I actually heard my cum hit her chest, with a wet 'splack', as it rocketed out. Her attention was totally focused on my cock, as her hands slid up her body to cup her beautiful breasts. She moaned as more of my gooey discharge sprayed out, to join the first in decorating her chest, and I kept stroking until I was drained completely . My legs trembled, and I leaned back against the car for support while I looked down at the gorgeous creature before me. She ran her fingers through the sticky streams that gravity was leading down across her ample curves. Scooping up a load of semen, she brought it first to her nose, where she inhaled deeply, moaning as my scent filled her senses. Then she plunged the fingers into her mouth, licking them clean, and moaning again. She had such a classically pretty face, with smooth, old world lines and structure. The huge blue eyes that dominated that perfect visage gave no clue to her true feelings...most of the time conveying innocence and decorum. When those eyes did give a glimpse into her soul, there was no doubt about the seething cauldron of lust that bubbled within. It was clearly evident right now, as she continued her motions...scrape, scoop, sniff, moan, lick, moan, repeat...under the glow of the moon. Once she had cleaned herself sufficiently, we climbed back into the car, snuggling naked together on the front seat. She shivered, so I put the top up, and started the car, to get some heat going. We kissed gently, the urgency depleted by multiple orgasms, and it was Monica who broke the silence. "Thank you for a lovely evening," she whispered, stroking my chest softly. "I hope it won't be a one night thing. I'd like to get to know you better." "Me too," I said. It was true. I wasn't going to turn down the chance to repeat this evening, for as long as she felt like doing so. Besides, there was still the Karly question, wasn't there? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Thanks for reading. Remember what I asked at the beginning? Please... Vote, and send your thoughts. Thanks again.