Part One: Getting Ready
Rick Walker was not a patient man, and now he was being made to wait. His wife, Tiffany, was still primping in the bathroom. Rick’s friends, Sparky Jones and Pee Wee Burkett, would not wait on them forever at the bar. It was Friday night, and the three buddies always got together with their wives on the weekend. But they weren’t patient men either.
“Hurry up, God Damn it!,” Rick yelled. Sometimes that girl could really get on his nerves.
Big Rick, as his friends called him, was all of five feet four inches tall, and 140 lbs; not exactly what you’d call an imposing figure. Yet, Rick thought the world of himself. In his mind, he was the biggest, baddest, toughest mother fucker in town. He liked (no- loved) to tell tales of his ass-whipping adventures, and he always seemed to come out on the winning side. Though that was far from the truth, Rick would never let on; after all, a bad ass didn’t get that kind of rep by taking a beat down. Sparky and Pee Wee were all but sick of him telling and retelling his same old stories, but they put up with him none the less. To them, Rick was just a good laugh.
Yes, Rick toted his pot-gut with pride. Even though he was only thirty-five, he had lost a lot of hair, and what was left had gone gray. What he did have was worn in a tired mullet. That really didn’t seem to bother Rick. He acted almost proud of his thinning, gray locks. Rick’s ego and attitude surpassed that of all but he most conceited assholes.
No-one could imagine how Rick had landed such a beautiful wife in Tiffany. Truth be told, neither did Rick. Outwardly, he had the kind of dominant, bully personality that drew weaker minds to him, and Tiffany fit the category of a weak mind perfectly. She had always had someone telling her what to do: Dad, Mom, brother, boyfriend, and now, Rick. She was perfectly happy with that arrangement. She never really had to worry about anything as long as she went along with whatever she was told. It never even occurred to Tiffany to doubt what others expected of her.
Deep in her soul, however, Tiffany felt a longing need for—something. She couldn’t put her finger on it, and she could never admit it to Rick, but something was lacking in her life. She forced those thoughts away, though. Rick was her husband, she his wife, and that’s the way it was. She would be loyal to him and love him till the end.
Tiffany was the picture of a knockout. Five feet four, 120 lbs. with a nice set of C-cup breasts that looked bigger on her small frame. However, her best feature was, by far, her ass. It was a nice, tight little package that was just so squeezable, and very fuckable. That was the part Rick couldn’t get enough of. She kept her blond hair neatly styled at shoulder length, which set off her striking blue eyes perfectly. Any man would have given up a nut to be with her. “I said, hurry up, bitch!,” Rick called again.
“Okay, I’m ready,” she answered finally. She stepped out of the bathroom so that Rick could see her. When she did, his mouth dropped a little and his mind went dumb for a second.
This night Tiffany had chosen to wear a white tank top that showed off her mid-drift, with no bra underneath. Below this was a second-skin tight leather skirt that came to just under her butt, and a lacy black thong that was visible if you looked the right way. Black thigh-high leather topped hose and black calf-length boots completed the ensemble. It was hard to take your eye off her.
“Do you like it?,” she asked Rick.
“Uhh, yeah. It’s perfect,” he replied dumbly. Still giving her furtive glances, Rick retrieved a pair of leather biker jackets from the hall closet, gave Tiffany one, and opened the door. Rick went over to the Harley-Davidson look-alike motorcycle that he kept shined to a mirror finish, and fired it up. Tiffany walked over and climbed on behind him, her skirt giving her a bit of a fuss as she did.
In the cool autumn air, her nipples had gotten hard, and even through two leather coats, Rick could feel them poking him in the back. Tiffany sensed his excitement, and decided to have a little fun. Reaching her hand around his waist, she unzipped his jeans and slipped her hand inside. Freeing his dick, she began to massage Rick’s four-inch cock. Since Rick had been her first, Tiffany didn’t know any better that to believe him when he told her four inches was massive. Worse still, Rick believed this himself.
As they drove to the bar, Tiffany continued to give him a great hand-job; rubbing, stroking, tickling, and pumping. They both knew that as excited as he was, it would not take Rick long to come. His main concern was keeping the bike from falling over as he drove. Never the less, Rick took his time getting to the Alamo, and enjoyed his wife’s talents.
Across town, Nina Sanchez was also waiting for someone to finish preparing for a night out on the town. Her girlfriend, Kasey Hale, was a perfectionist. Nina sat back on the couch and closed her eyes, trying to relax.
Nina was Colombian, with lightly browned skin, jet black hair that she kept cut short but sexy, and brown eyes. She was very well toned and in shape at five feet eight, 135 lbs. Although she wasn’t body-builder strong, Nina had some muscles and a nice six-pack.
Nina grew up as the daughter of a wealthy Colombian cocaine dealer. When her dear old Dad and Mom were killed by rivals, Nina and her brother, Horno, left their country and came to America. They had no worries concerning money; their father had set up many accounts in American and Swiss banks. The siblings drew off of them to live comfortably. Nina had even attended college for a couple of years, and that is where she had met Kasey.
In those days, Nina was regular at the sorority parties. Kasey had been a freshman, just arrived and free from Mom and Dad for the first time in her life. Nina was unquestionably lesbian, while Kasey considered herself bi-sexual. Nina played upon that to entice Kasey into becoming lovers. Nina had to be quite persuasive to get Kasey to become wholeheartedly lesbian, but then again, she was good at that.
Nina had always been a dominating, sadist type, which melded seamlessly with Kasey’s submissive, masochist side. The pair quickly entered into a sort of slave-mistress type of relationship, much to the shock of Kasey’s friends.
“Kasey, are you about ready?,” Nina inquired. “You know how I hate to be kept waiting!”
“Yes, I’m ready,” Kasey replied, walking out of the bedroom and into the living room where Nina was.
“Very nice,” Nina complemented, eyeing Kasey from head to toe. She was wearing a tight, one-piece black dress that was almost too short to be decent. She habitually wore no underwear. Simple black pumps completed her outfit. For a five feet two, 110 lb girl, Kasey was very sexy. Her small B-cup breasts hung nicely and firmly, supported only by the fabric of the dress. Her dyed, magenta colored hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and secured with a very expensive pearl clasp.
“Thanks, Nina. You look good, too,” Kasey told her lover. Nina was wearing a pair of loose-fitting leather pants beneath a simple white cotton, button-down shirt. Appropriate undergarments were there, too, as well as a pair of expensive, name-brand biker boots.
“Well, let’s get a move on,” Nina said. Although she and Kasey were in a sub/Dom arrangement, they kept things casual. They only referred to each other as ‘mistress’ or ‘slave’ while in the middle of sexual role-play.
This night, the two were off to a place called the Alamo; the bar that Nina’s brother worked at. Horno was the bartender, and he also managed to keep out all the gay men who repeatedly thought the pseudo-biker bar was a fag hangout. It was well known, however, that bi girls and hot lesbians were welcome. The double standard reflected the fantasies of most of the bar’s regulars. They often liked to pick up a chick every now and then, and all the better if there was a chance of a threesome.
