5 comments/ 15030 views/ 5 favorites Missy Gets a Real Man By: jezebeldelilah This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, past or present, is completely coincidental. * Missy had a reputation. She didn't really care though. She'd never cared much for what other people thought of her. Even though she knew those old busybodies at the ladies quilting circle weren't the only ones who gossiped about her. She'd never cared much for 'ladies' either. She lived in a moderately sized town with a population of about ten thousand or so. The neighborhood she lived in was securely middle class. Most of her neighbors were single men with a few married couples of varying ages. When she'd moved here she'd made sure she rented a house right in the middle of all the single men. She wanted a man. Not just any man would be good enough. She wanted a man who wanted her enough to take her. That purpose was how she'd earned the reputation of a slut. She knew she'd never get a man just going to work and sitting in her house reading. She got a job at the closest convenience store, selling gas and cigarettes from behind bulletproof glass. She knew the men only bought a few dollars of gas at a time so they could come back as often as possible. She knew they wanted her. At work she had to wear the buttoned- down shirt and pants of a uniform but she made sure to order them in the smallest sizes she could wiggle into. The pants would have shown a panty line if she'd had one. Not that she didn't wear panties. She did. She wore thongs to keep the center seam of her uniform pants from chafing her pussy lips. The shirt of the uniform stretched quite a bit so she was able to wear one two sizes too small. The buttons strained over her size 36C breasts. She was careful not to sit when she had male customers. The buttons strained rather more than she liked over her belly when she sat. She wore an unlined, satin bra under her shirt. The air conditioning was always set on cold, making her nipples stay hard. She always left one more button undone than any other woman in the neighborhood, making sure to show plenty of cleavage. She found it amusing to check out her male customers, eying their cocks to see how hard they got from staring down her cleavage. She made sure they knew she was looking. The clothes she wore at home were much different. She liked to wear very loose, very short shorts with a too small bikini top to putter around in her flower garden in her front yard. Whenever possible, she bent over at the waist to pull the weeds, flashing a glimpse of her shaved pussy lips. When she mowed the large yard she wore just a bikini. She liked to lay out and tan in the early afternoons before she went in to work the evening shift. She had a chain link fence around her back yard, letting the single men in all the houses around hers see her as she tanned. She sprayed oil all over her body before reclining on her cushioned lounge chair. When she flipped to tan her back she untied her top so she wouldn't have a tan line from the ties. The bottoms she wore to tan in were thongs. She knew most of the men were home on weekends. One of them, Wayne, had such an erratic schedule she was never sure when or for how long he'd be home. He was just like all the others though, stopping by her work anytime he was around, watching her lay out. She knew he wanted her, they all did. He was hard from looking at her erect nipples through her uniform top much more often than any of the others. The question was: did any of the men want her enough to take her the way she wanted? Wayne was a man of rather simple needs. He needed to not be idle, which was the main reason he worked two jobs with 24 hour shifts. He needed a house to eat, sleep and shower in when he wasn't working. He needed a vehicle he liked. This was a black Porsche 911 fastback. It was also one of the reasons he worked two jobs. It was an expensive car. He needed a sex with a woman much more often than he had time for. That was one of the drawbacks of having two 24 hour shift jobs. Since he noticed that he had a new neighbor, and heard about her reputation, he decided it would be convenient to have sex with her on the one or two days a week he was home. He was sure it'd be easy to convince her of the same convenience. He'd chatted with her a couple of times through her fence when he was home. She was tanning both times, lying on her belly with the ties of her top undone. He was sitting on an old tire swing the previous owners had left hanging from a branch of an enormous oak tree. The tire looked like an old semi truck tire mounted horizontally instead of vertically. Even though it had been meant for kids it was a nice place to relax with a cold drink on a hot afternoon. After working 48 hours straight he needed a nice place to relax. He'd gotten hard from the conversations with Missy. Just looking at her plumply curved body in that too-small bikini would have been enough. But knowing that if she were to turn over, or even if she just got up to go into the house, she'd have to adjust her top to keep her nipples from showing made his cock throb. Added to that were the topics of their conversations. She was very open about discussing anything related to sex. Their first chat was about sexual positions. She told him her favorites, some she'd never tried, and some she didn't care for. He told her he'd tried many different positions, his favorites, and the ones he found difficult to do. Their second conversation involved details of encounters they'd each had. He had the oddest sense that she was a little inexperienced. He trusted his instincts and intuition but this time they were totally at odds with her reputation. How could a woman almost every man in the neighborhood claimed to have fucked be inexperienced? Every other single man in the neighborhood had gone out on one date with her and told very similar stories afterward. She wore tops that just almost revealed her nipples, skirts that just almost revealed whether or not she wore any panties, or dresses that did both. She smiled a lot, touched a lot, and made a lot of deliberately obvious glances into the men's laps. Some of the touches were just as obviously deliberate brushes of her fingertips, ass, or a hip against their flies. By the time they got back to her place every single one of them had sported a raging erection. Their stories varied some after that. Some of the men claimed she was so wild to fuck they barely got the front door closed before she was taking their cocks out of their pants, raising her skirt or dress, and having them fuck her standing against the door. Some of the men claimed she continued the tease all the way to her bedroom, making them slowly undress themselves and her and fucking slowly on her bed. Still others went wild with her, taking their own cocks out of their pants and bending her over the back of her living room couch, pounding into her pussy from behind. Missy didn't care what kind of stories they made up about her. It was public fact that she had dated almost every single man in the neighborhood and that she did dress and act the slut on those dates. It was publicly accepted that, because of her clothes and actions on those dates, what the men said about her actions after the dates must also be fact. She knew that her slut act was just that, an act. Almost all of the men took her to dinner at the Four Seasons forty miles away. The specialist doctors bored her silly with talk of this knee surgery or that sprained ankle. The lawyers droned on about mergers and takeovers and settlements. The accountants carried on a monologue about taxes. She had to put on an academy award performance just to get through the evening, much less smile, laugh, and tease. Tonight she'd gone out with what seemed like the last available man in a ten mile radius of her house or work. John was an accountant, a junior partner in the largest firm in town. Missy could tell within five minutes exactly how the date would go. It would be almost an exact replay of all the other dates she'd gone on with accountants. She was right too. He picked her up exactly on time in his very respectable tan Buick. She wore her almost-black hair down in ringlets around her shoulders and down her back. Her dress was white satin, spaghetti strapped, and very low cut. The length would have been a modest ankle length but for the slit in the left side all the way up to her hip. On her feet were sandals with 4.5 inch stiletto heels. She looked hot and she knew it. John had told her he was taking her to a nice dinner in a town an hours' drive away. He claimed it was because he didn't think any of the restaurants any closer were worthy of her. Missy knew it was because he still lived with his parents and didn't want anyone he knew to see him with her and get him in trouble with his father. She knew his father hated her because of her reputation. Image was everything with that family. The restaurant was very high class. The dress code was black tie making Missy glad that she'd worn a nice dress instead of a denim mini skirt and tank top with a built in bra. She ordered one of the few menu items she could pronounce, salmon with whole green beans and wild rice, and made a show of eating. She never took a large bite; she didn't want her cheeks to distend while she chewed. She made sure to take the prongs all the way into her mouth, close her lips around the tines and slowly draw the fork out from between them. The table was perfectly sized for two people, giving Missy the opportunity to slide her foot up and down the inside of John's calf. The angle was wrong for her to look directly into his lap but when she got up and returned from her single trip to the ladies' room she looked and saw the bulge of his erection. She knew he saw her looking. She also knew that he knew the glance was deliberate. She continued to stroke his inner calf with her foot. She also reached out to touch his hand or arm as he droned on about how she should file her taxes next year. She kept her eyes on his whenever possible, nodding and smiling whenever he paused to take a breath. She barely spoke a single sentence during the entire tedious hour. It was taxing her acting skills to even appear mildly interested. She concentrated on keeping the top of her dress pulled as low as possible and her breasts thrust forward. Finally the meal was finished. They walked back out to his boring Buick. What happened to men who drove exciting vehicles? Or at least interesting ones, Missy thought. That was when the evening took a turn for the worse that she never expected. "Super 8 had no vacancies so I got a room at the Motel 6," said John. "I hope you're not expecting to have sex all night. I only have a couple of hours before I need to get back home. I don't want my parents to miss me at breakfast." Missy looked at him in shock. Motel 6, she thought. I'm not even good enough for the Holiday Inn? "I don't think so Johnny boy," she said. "I'm not interested in fucking a man who thinks I'm so easy I don't even need to be asked if I want to fuck. Didn't your Mommy and Daddy teach you any manners? You're not taking me to any cheap motel. You're not taking me anywhere but home." John started to sputter. He reached the driver's door, got in, having unlocked the door with a remote, and instead of waiting for Missy to walk around the back of the car, he started it and drove off. Missy was even more shocked now. All the other men had taken her home before asking or suggesting that they wanted to have sex with her. When she refused, they either took her refusal graciously or just got a little frustrated and asked her for a second date. The only thing she'd do was ask for their number and promise to call when she was ready for them to take her out again. She never called because she was never ready to be bored by the same man again. This was totally different. She'd never been stranded before. She must have stood on the parking lot of the restaurant for almost a full minute before she shook herself lightly and decided there was nothing for it but to start walking. It was almost 1 a.m. The restaurant staff had locked the doors behind her and John as they'd left. The parking lot was deserted, John having been the last to leave. She'd seen a gas station just a few miles down the road. She'd left her cell phone at home to be polite and only had a few dollars in her little white satin clutch purse. She hoped they had a pay phone. She'd have to call information and give them Wayne's address and hope that he had a house phone, and that he was home, and that he was willing to drive an hour to come pick her up. During their backyard conversations she'd gotten the impression that he was basically a nice guy. She just hoped that 'nice guy' would include helping her out. By the time she got within sight of the gas station her feet were killing her. She had blisters on both heels and both little toes. When she saw the station she almost sank down onto the shoulder of the road in relief. It was open. She reached down and took off her shoes. The station was still almost a mile away and she just could not stand walking another step in them. She was halfway there, just past an interstate off-ramp, when she felt drops of rain on her face. "Fucking great," she muttered to herself. "Not only am I abandoned eighty miles from home without a phone, have to walk four miles down a poorly lit road to get to the nearest place that might have a pay phone, get huge blisters on my feet from these damn shoes, and have to walk the last mile barefoot, now it starts to rain! There should be a law against leaving your date more than a couple of blocks from their house." While she's ranting to the night, a car comes up the off-ramp, lighting the road in front of her. She steps to the side, not even thinking of sticking her thumb out to ask for a ride. All she's thinking about now is just placing one foot in front of the other. The sky opens up as the car pulls over a little ways in front of her. She's soaked to the skin in seconds as she watches the reverse lights come on and the car back toward her. Wayne was headed home from 36 hours at his paramedic job when his gas light came on. He knew from experience that it only came on when there was less than two gallons in the tank. He signaled and left the freeway at the first gas station he saw with the lights still on. He'd just turned onto the access road when his headlights flashed across a white figure walking down the road. His heart jumped, thinking he'd seen a ghost. As he passed the pale figure, he thought he recognized his neighbor. What's Missy doing here? He thought. It's Tuesday night. She has dates every Tuesday. He pulled over just as the rain that had been threatening all night chose that moment to start pouring out of the sky. He backed up and reached over to open the passenger door as she came up to the car. "Missy?" he asked. "What are you doing walking down the road in the middle of the night?" She looked miserable as she said, "It's a pretty embarrassing story." "If you want to tell me I'll promise to listen and not judge. Just get in before you get hypothermia." She got into his car looking like a waif. Her long black hair was plastered to her skin, her mascara was running down her cheeks and her vivid emerald eyes looked suspiciously bright. Being a man, Wayne couldn't help but notice that her wet white dress was practically transparent. He could see the darkness of her erect nipples, even her lightly tanned skin. He'd already been considering asking her out, getting aroused from thinking about it, and now here she was in a dress that didn't conceal anything with a slit in the side all the way up to her hip. Now was not the time to be a potential date though. Now she just needed a friend. "I need to stop in here to get some gas," he said. "Why don't you use the ladies' room and dry your face? I promise not to leave without you." Missy gave him a weak smile. "Ok," she said. "As long as you promise." Wayne pulled up to the pumps and went through the routine of pumping gas. While he waited for Missy to finish in the restroom after he paid for his fuel, he noticed a cappuccino machine by the register. He thought she could use a little hot pick-me-up. He got her a small one and went back out to his car to wait. She didn't take long. He'd only been waiting a few minutes before she walked out of the station and got into the Porsche. She smiled and said, "You waited." "I promised," he said. "I never break a promise. It's why I make so few of them. They're usually impossible to keep. And here," he handed her the cappuccino; "even though it's May that rain is cold. This should help you warm up." "Thank you," she said, taking the cup and sounding just a little flustered. "You sound surprised," he said. "Do you feel like telling me why?" "You know what everyone says about me," she said. "I'm a little wild at best and a slut or whore at worst. Men only want and expect one thing from me. They expect me to fuck them just because they asked. I tell them no because I don't want just sex. I want to be wanted so much the man almost can't control himself and won't take 'no' for an answer. They're never nice to me. They might have picked me up on the side of the road but they'd never have thought to suggest that I clean up some. They'd certainly never have gotten me a hot drink to keep me from getting too chilled." "Most of the men around here are all assholes," he said. "I'm not like them. You're a lady in need, a damsel in distress, and I'd do the same for any woman." She looked at him so long he wondered if she was going to say anything else. He was curious about what had happened tonight but didn't want to push her into talking before she was ready. When she did speak, it was all in a rush; as if she was trying to get the story told before she lost her nerve. "John didn't even ask if I wanted to have sex with him," she said. "He just told me that the Super 8 was full and we'd have to go to the Motel 6. He couldn't be missed at breakfast so we wouldn't be able to fuck all night. Even if I'd been interested in having sex with him I wouldn't have after he said that. I'd never cared that the whole neighborhood thinks I'm a slut for the way I dress and act on dates but I never thought men would think I was so easy that all it would take to fuck me is dinner in a fancy restaurant and telling me they got a cheap motel room for a few hours. I'm sick of it." "Was the food good at least?" he asked with a smile, trying to lighten her mood. She gave a little laugh. "Yes, the food was good. That's about the only part of the dates that is. But they could have taken me to the local steak house and the food would have been just as good. I don't need to be impressed. I just want to be wanted. I want to not be so bored on a date. I want to talk with a man instead of him talking at me." "Well," he couldn't resist saying with a laugh, "I've never been considered boring. And I like to hear my conversation partner's opinion." She smiled a little at that but didn't say anything. The exit he needed was the next one so he didn't say anything else. He couldn't remember the drive home from work ever going by so fast. When Wayne drove his car up her driveway, Missy just sat in the passenger seat for a minute as the engine idled. She stared straight ahead with her hands folded in her lap around her little purse. The warm air from the vents had partially dried her hair and the front of her dress. Now that she was safely home she was a little embarrassed. She'd never wanted any man to see her at her worst. "Thank you for the ride," she said. "And I'm sorry for ranting so much. I usually don't do that." Missy Gets a Real Man "The ride was no problem at all," he told her. "And everyone needs to rant sometimes. By the way, would you like my number? If something like this happens again, I'd like you to call me. I'll come get you." "I don't think I'll be stranded again," she said, picking up her shoes, opening the car door and getting out. "I'm going to give up dating and get a cat." She closed the door and walked gingerly up the sidewalk to her front door. She was grateful that he waited to leave until she got her door unlocked. She'd forgotten to leave the front porch light on and would have had difficulty seeing the keyhole if it weren't for the Porsche's headlights. When she entered her house, the first thing she did was strip off her dress. It wasn't ruined but she'd never wear it again. She didn't want to be reminded of what a disaster tonight had turned out to be. She draped it over the back of her hideously ugly but gloriously comfortable brown and orange plaid couch. She'd take it to the goodwill tomorrow before she went to work. She stripped off her g-string panties and let them lie where they fell. She had had no need to wear a bra with her dress as it had one built in. For now, all she wanted was a long hot soak in her bathtub and then to sleep until she had to get up and dressed for work the next day. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment as she remembered how she had blurted out her frustrations to Wayne. As she thought of him, she realized he was the last single man in the neighborhood she hadn't dated. After tonight, she wasn't sure he'd want to ask her out. Even if he did, she didn't know if it'd be such a good idea. Somehow he'd become a friend. She valued that, especially since she had no other friends. She was afraid that if he asked her out and she said no he wouldn't understand why, even if she tried to explain. If she said yes she was afraid that he'd expect what all the others did. Oh, she was sure she wouldn't be bored on a date with him. She just didn't want him to think her a slut. She'd never cared before what anyone thought of her but it was important now. She worried over the what if's until her bath water became tepid. She put it out of her mind as she pulled the plug and stepped out of the tub. She got into the shower stall just long enough to wash her hair. All she thought about as she dried her body and hair was ordering a new uniform for work; one that wouldn't be so tight. There was no purpose in dressing so provocatively anymore. She'd go to the local animal shelter her next day off and adopt a pair of cats. As she got into her bed, she couldn't help but think about how disastrously the night had gone. She'd never thought that the men would think her so easy she'd accept a few hours of sex in a crummy motel room. She'd never cared about her reputation till now. Now she wondered if she'd ever be wanted for more than just sex. From what he'd said about not being boring, she guessed that even Wayne, the only person she could even remotely consider a friend, wanted to fuck her. She tried to stop the tears of self pity but eventually just gave in, burying her face in a pillow and telling herself she'd just do this one time. Tomorrow she'd act like nothing had happened and when her new uniforms came in she'd change her personality. She'd be the crazy cat lady instead of the neighborhood slut. The next day at work she acted like it was any other day, smiling and flirting with all the men. No one noticed that her eyes were still red and slightly puffy. No one noticed that her smile seemed forced and frozen in place. She had to put her plans on hold for a while though. She didn't have enough left from her paycheck to be able to afford new uniforms. Her car needed to have the carburetor rebuilt, oil leaks fixed, and new tires. She really needed a new car but her Chevette needed so many repairs it was almost impossible to save money for a down payment. She almost made it home when it sputtered and died. She knew there was plenty of gas in the tank so it must be the fuel pump that had gone out. She managed to coast down the gentle slope of her street to park in front of her house. Tomorrow was payday so she'd go to a nearby salvage yard before work to pick up a working fuel pump. She slammed the door and almost stomped up her front walk. She fumed as she fumbled with the keys. When a voice spoke from behind her, she almost jumped out of her skin. "Car trouble?" he asked. "Oh my god, Wayne, you nearly scared me to death!" she almost yelled in a voice that had been startled into being squeaky. "Yes, it's car trouble. It's always car trouble. I thought I could get at least a few hundred more miles out of the fuel pump but no such luck. I try and try to save for a down payment on a more reliable car but I always have to buy parts for this one." "I'm off tomorrow if you'd like me to fix it for you. Just to be neighborly." "Thank you, but I can fix it myself. I'll just ride my bike to the salvage yard and work tomorrow and put on the fuel pump the day after. It'll be fine." "You sure? I'm not doing anything else and replacing a fuel pump would take less than an hour." "Don't worry about it. I've been patching this scrap heap for years. I can do all but the most physically demanding of fixing." "Well ok then, if you're sure. I just wanted to offer to help. Good night." "Good night." The next day Missy left early on her bicycle. When she stopped at the salvage yard however, she was told that they didn't carry parts for her car. It was too old and the make was too unpopular. She called the auto parts store to see if they had the part she needed. They didn't have one in stock but could order it. It would take about a week to come in. She called another parts store where they informed her they had had one but had sold it just today. She resigned herself to a week of riding her bike to work and hoping it wouldn't rain. When she got home that night she noticed a scrap of paper under the windshield wiper of the Chevette. Her curiosity piqued, she slid it out and realized it was a note. Missy Gets a Real Man "Wow," said Missy. "I never would have known this place was here if you hadn't shown me. How did you find out about it?" "A buddy of mine bought the property about six years ago. We used to work together at the ambulance service. He lost an eye and his depth perception with it. He took early retirement and partial disability and opened this place." "How did he lose his eye?" she asked as they descended the steps and approached the bar. "Tell her how you lost your eye, Manny." The bartender turned around and broke into a big grin when he saw Wayne. He wore a black patch over his right eye. A thin scar extended above and below it. He liked to think it made him look like a pirate. "We were on a call in the middle of the night," said Manny. "It looked like a couple of guys got into a knife fight over a few grams of coke. I was cleaning up one while Wayne here took care of the other one. They were both so high I don't think they even knew their own names. Another ambulance showed up to take one of them to the hospital. After the one Wayne was working on was loaded into the ambulance we started to lift my patient onto the gurney. He took exception to that whipped a knife out of his pocket, slashed down my face and took off. I ended up being the one to go to the nearest ER for 37 stitches. They tried to save my eye but it'd been punctured. I couldn't drive anymore cause I couldn't see good enough. So I took early retirement, partial disability, and opened this place. Whadda ya think?" "That's some story," Missy said. "And I love your place. I'm curious about one thing though." "What's that?" he said. "Is Manny your real name or is it short for something?" Both Manny and Wayne burst out laughing. Missy blushed. When the men finally got their laughter under control Manny said, "It's an old family name. An ancestor of mine was the first to have it. He played piano in a saloon for the owner to dance to. They were good friends but nothing else, even though she was one of the working girls until the saloon was making enough money she could work in a purely management position. I think she eventually settled down with one of her regulars. My ancestor married one of the other girls when she got tired of working. The first son is always called 'Manny'. Sometimes it's his name, sometimes it's just a nickname. For me, it's my real name. Now, what can I get for y'all tonight?" Wayne ordered a beer. Missy wrinkled her nose and asked if Manny had any wine coolers. He pulled a bottle out from under the bar that had 'watermelon' written on it. She smiled her thanks and followed Wayne to one of the small tables toward the back of the room. "He's an interesting character," she said when they sat down. "And I really do like this place." "I know it's not the fancy restaurant you're probably used to," he said. "I hope you're not too disappointed. I just thought you might like a change of scene and with your foot being hurt I didn't think you'd want to go to a club." "I'm not disappointed at all. In fact I'm relieved. I've had more than my fill of fancy places. They're ok every once in a while but a steady diet gets pretty boring. The atmosphere is just so…stuffy." "I'm in agreement with you on that one," he said with a laugh. "I've only been to a couple and was impatient for the evening to be over." Missy grinned at him as she took her seat. This was easier than he thought it would be. He didn't expect to be quite so comfortable with just having a normal conversation at the beginning of the first date. He'd expected her to start out a little uncertain because he knew he was different from any of the other men she'd dated. "So," he said. "I'm curious about you." "Curious?" she asked. "That can get people into trouble." "Well, how about this? I'll ask you some ordinary questions and you can tell me as much or as little to answer as you want. You can even tell me you don't want to answer and I won't push it." "That sounds fair. But do I get to ask questions too?" "If you promise to go out with me again, I'll let our second date be all about your curiosity." "O…k. I'll answer this time and go on another date with you to be the one asking." "Promise?" "Yes, I promise." "Well first," he said, standing up to reach into a front pocket. "What song would you like to have for background music?" "How 'bout 'piano man' by Billy Joel?" He walked over to an old fashioned juke box in the corner next to the bar that was old enough to play vinyl instead of cd's. "Ok next question," Wayne said as he returned to sit across from her. "Do you have a favorite music genre?" "Yes. My favorite is classic rock. I like a few artists and songs of other genres, but that's the one I like the most of." "Ok. Of that genre, which band or singer has the most songs you like?" "That's easy. Aerosmith. I like some singers better and some songs by other singers better but they're the band I like the most songs by." "Ok," He took a drink of his beer. "What's your favorite Aerosmith song?" She smiled and said, "Crazy." He smiled back, liking the way it was easy to be comfortable with her. He also liked how she didn't make a fuss about answering a few ordinary questions. "I'll save any other music questions for another time," he said. "Do you like to read?" "I absolutely love to read!" she said, her face lighting up as she leaned slightly forward. "I'm forever buying books or checking them out from the library. On the rare occasions I don't have a book, I'll go so far as to read the back of my shampoo bottle." "Well, let's go the same question route with books as we did with music. Do you have a favorite genre?" She laughed, saying "Probably the same as any other woman who loves to read. I like trashy romance the most. Of course the more erotic they are the more I like them. I like erotic horror, mystery, suspense, and just plain horror like Steven King. I could go on and on about books." "Well, I don't know all that much about trashy romance but I do like King. Do you have a favorite of his?" "The Dark Tower series. I like all of his books I've read but those are my favorites. I like his movies too." "Really? Ok then what's your favorite King movie?" "It's a toss up between The Stand and Rose Red." "I like The Stand too," he said. "I haven't seen Rose Red though. But for now I guess I'll have to save any other questions I have for later. Manny's giving me the 'will you hurry and finish already I want to close up and go home' look." Missy laughed and stood up. The business group and the bachelorette party were gone. They'd obviously been gone long enough for Manny to have cleaned up after them. Wayne led the way back up the steps, holding the door open for her and again making the old fashioned gesture of offering his arm. They crossed the deserted street to his car. He walked around to the passenger side to open the door for her. She smiled as she slid onto the leather seat. It was rare that any of her dates showed the slightest hint of chivalry. Wayne made the few minutes of the drive back to her place in silence. She seemed to be a little nervous now and he could guess why. This was probably the point where, on her dates with other men, they asked for or hinted that they wanted sex. He didn't intend to make that mistake. She may not remember what she told him after he picked her up on the side of the road in the rain but he did. She wanted a man who wanted her enough to just take her without taking 'no' for an answer. He wasn't going to ask for or hint around wanting sex. He was going to just give her what she wanted. He pulled up into her driveway, killing the motor. "My mom taught me to always see my dates safely to their door and inside their house," he said. "Far be it from me to make you disappoint your mother," Missy said with a smile. "I'll even let you open my door." He smiled back and got out of the car, walking around to her side as she got her house key out of her skirt pocket. She smiled again as he opened her door, offered her a hand to help her out of the low-slung car, and kept hold of it as he held out his other hand for her house key. She giggled a little at all the gentlemanly gestures as she dropped her key into his hand. They walked around to her front door, which he unlocked and opened for her. He gave her key back, which she put back in her pocket as she turned to say goodnight. She'd barely opened her mouth when his lips came down on hers. His tongue took advantage of her surprise to sweep past her lips. She stiffened at the unexpected invasion, allowing him time to literally sweep her off her feet. She yelped in surprise as he walked into her house, kicking the front door shut with a foot. She started to struggle, squirming in his arms. He kept kissing her as he made his way to the door she'd disappeared into earlier to get dressed. He'd correctly guessed that this was her bedroom. Her bed was a queen sized, mahogany creation with filmy white curtains hanging from the canopy, making a striking contrast to the dark wood. It was placed in the far left corner of the room. He crossed the room in just a few strides, dropping her down on the bed and grinning down at her. She made an attractive picture. She tried to look indignant but he could see the heat in her eyes. He knew this was what she wanted but he didn't think she knew that he knew. Her bed was unmade, the sheet and comforter being shoved down to the foot. The bottom sheet and pillows were a green just slightly darker than the top she wore. He grabbed her ankles before she had a chance to try to wriggle off the bed. He pulled her until her ass was just barely on the mattress. She was still struggling but only half heartedly. As he shoved her skirt up to her waist and ripped her panties off, she gave a soft moan. "I know you're liking this," he said quietly. "I can smell your arousal." "I'm not," she protested weakly. He shifted closer to her pussy, turning his head to trail his open lips up her inner thigh. She shivered, goosebumps rising over every inch of her skin. He turned to her other thigh, flicking his tongue into the hollow where her inner thigh met her body. She shivered again, trying to scoot away from him. He reached up to grab her hips, liking how they filled his hands. She tried to twist in his grasp, attempting to close her legs. He flicked his tongue up the center of her slit, parting her pussy lips. She moaned again, a little louder this time, and let her thighs fall apart. He took advantage of her distraction, wrapping his arms around her upper thighs so he could part her pussy lips with his fingers. He reached out with the tip of his tongue to flick it over her clit. "Aaahhh," she almost screamed, raising up off the bed and reaching down to grab two fistfuls of his hair. He could tell she liked what he was doing so he kept at it, moving his right hand from around her left thigh to slowly ease a finger into her pussy. He felt her pussy walls clench around his finger. Her breath started to become erratic and he could tell from the juice soaking his finger that she was close to cumming. He slowed the flicking of his tongue, moving away from her clit to explore her juicy folds. He took his left hand from around her thigh to unzip and remove his boots and socks, unbutton and unzip his jeans and push them off his hips. He wasn't wearing underwear so when he stood to whip his t-shirt over his head his jeans fell to the floor, leaving no barrier between them but her top and the denim skirt bunched at her waist. "If you don't want me to remove your top the way I did your panties you'd better take it off," he told her. Her eyes widened. She grabbed the hem of her top and started to wiggle out of it. He unbuttoned and unzipped her skirt and pulled it and her torn panties down her legs as she struggled with her top. She'd gotten it off her body and face and was trying to get it off her arms when he parted her legs again. He stepped between them, grabbed her hips and scooted her farther onto the bed. He expertly reversed their positions, settling her pussy over his cock. She managed to get her top off and looked down at him. "I know you want this," he said. "Whether or not you've ever fucked any of those other guys, they're not the type to let you be on top. I'd be willing to bet that they only fuck one way and I only bet on a sure thing." When he reached up to palm her breasts and lightly pinch her nipples, she was lost. He was right. She didn't know how he knew exactly what she wanted, but he did. He didn't ask for or suggest sex, thus not giving her a chance to say no, and he ignored her feeble protests, somehow knowing that all they were was a token resistance. She tossed her head back and thrust her breasts forward in invitation. She was closer to cumming just from the attention of his mouth than she'd ever been with any other man. She reached down with her right hand to guide his cock into her pussy. They groaned in unison as she sank down, taking all of him inside her. She began to ride him. She started slowly getting used to the feel of him inside her. She could feel him stretching her pussy walls. She leaned forward to brace her hands on the mattress beside his shoulders. She slid her feet down, taking her weight on her knees instead. That was easier on her leg muscles. She continued riding him, using her hips this time. She could feel the pressure of a building orgasm low in her belly and between her legs. She sped the rhythm of her hips, feeling her own wetness lubricating his cock and causing the perfect amount of friction. She vaguely heard groans and whimpers. With the last brain cell that wasn't yet devoted to pleasure she realized that Wayne was making the groans but the whimpers were coming from her! She felt him cum, felt his cock become much more slippery as spurt after spurt of his cum gushed into her. That was all it took to sent her over the edge, just that extra heat and wetness. She came so hard she could feel her pussy clenching his cock in a vice grip. Her breath caught and held during her orgasm. It did when she masturbated but this was different. She orgasmed and held her breath for so long black splotches swam in front of her eyes. When she finally started to come down and breathe again she collapsed on top of him. She slid a little onto her right side, feeling his cock slide out of her pussy and cum, his and hers, gush out of her, making a mess on her sheet. They lay entangled for several minutes, catching their breath and trying to pull the scattered skeins of their thoughts back into some semblance of order. "Wow," Wayne finally said, still out of breath. "I knew sex with you would be great but I had no idea…" "I've never even cum with a man," said Missy a few minutes later. "Not that I've been with all that many, but still…oh my god that was so incredible." He turned to look at her. "I don't know if this would be a good time to ask or not but then maybe there's not a good time." "You want to know exactly how many of those men I've fucked." she finished for him. "I don't like to pry but considering we just had unprotected sex…" "It's ok to pry with that kind of thing. You have a right to know." She sighed and rolled onto her back, looking at the ceiling. "I never fucked any of them. Not a single one. I've only had sex with two other men and that was years ago. Once when I was eighteen after my high school senior prom and once again after I graduated. I'm sure you noticed I'm kinda tight and wasn't all that comfortable with being on top. I don't expect you to just take my word for it though. If you really want proof, ask any of the men I've dated in the past year to describe my bedroom in detail. They've never seen it." "You've only had sex twice in your life?" he asked, sounding almost shocked. "Yeah," she said, reaching down to the floor to pick up a discarded towel to clean up some of the leftovers still leaking out of her before turning her head to look at him. "I hope you're not too disappointed." "Disappointed…" he said, almost disbelieving. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his side. "I'm not disappointed at all. I'm glad you haven't been with a bunch of guys. I only have one concern now. Since you haven't been fucking a lot of guys you probably don't have any reason to be on birth control…" She smiled at him. "You're going to ask if I keep track of my cycle and if this is a safe time." "Well, yeah." "No worries. I actually got an I.U.D. before my senior prom over nine years ago. They last five years so when it was time to take it out, I just got another one. It lets me not have to worry about girl week." "That's a good thing," he said turning onto his side to take the towel from her to clean himself with. He tossed it back onto the floor and pulled her to spoon against him. "I hope this means you'll let me have more than just one more date," he said against her hair. "I'd very much like to have an actual relationship with you." "I'd like that too," she said softly, falling quickly into the sleep of the utterly exhausted and totally satisfied. He reached up to brush a strand of hair off her face before pulling her even closer, closing his eyes to join her in sleep.