***The thank-you I had included in my previous story didn't make it (probably user error), so I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who commented and emailed me. I appreciate the support, and I hope you all enjoy the continued stories! :)***
Chapter 3: Practice Makes Perfect
"Hey there, Albert! Come on in!" Tasha greets me at the door with one of the loveliest, most friendly smiles I've ever seen. It's the kind of smile that seems to have its own source of light, glowing with the warmth of such pure generosity that it changes the entire dynamic of....
Ok, truth be known, I am only assuming that's what her smile looks like. I have no fucking idea what she is doing with her face right now because I am too mesmerized by what she's wearing. And what is covering her naked, perfectly-curved busty body is a barely-clasped translucent robe that just touches the tops of her thighs and nothing else.
She's still talking about something or other, I think about how her day at work was, but I'm not really listening right now. I'm lost in thought about how I've been able to convince this naΓ―ve, beautiful, busty woman that I'm a bra salesman who can demonstrate exercises that will help her fit into her lingerie, which involve my thrusting my dick into her mouth. Did I mention she was... what's a nice way of saying stupid? Obtuse? Simpleton? Dullardly? *Is* there a nice way of saying someone is dumber than a sack of bricks? Hrmm, I guess not.
Some might judge me as a heartless beast preying upon the kindness, if not slow-wittedness, of a sweet innocent woman. All I can say in my defense is two things: first, you're abso-fucking-luetly right, I am a horrible, despicable person with no soul or any sense of decency or morality, you'll get no argument from me on that point whatsoever. And secondly, if you had seen her breasts and pussy, you would have done the exact same thing. At least that's what I like to tell myself.
So today I spent the morning at work figuring out exactly how I wanted this evening to play out, and I even bought something online for a future scheme. But for tonight, I think I have it all planned. I am so nervous now, I can't even see straight. And by that, I mean I can't focus on anything other than her thinly-veiled breasts jiggling in front of me right now. God, my hands are all wet and slimy now. Ugh, it's like I shook hands with a slug.
It must be the pressure of pulling off this plan of mine. Look, let's be honest. I am no Casanova, ok? I know that. I am not awash with ladies throwing themselves at me. I am not particularly handsome, I don't have the kind of a job that would make anyone more advanced than "Fry Cook" swoon, and I wouldn't even claim to be all that smart. And one look at the pitiful chasm I refer to as my "bank account" will convince you I'm not rich just as soon as you stop your gut-wrenching laughter.
Other than being able to shovel unbelievable amounts of bullshit, I don't have a lot going on for me. I know that, ok? So I really, really need this to work. I have been unbelievably lucky up to this point, and I really, really want this plan to succeed. Part of it is to prove to myself I'm capable of pulling off something like this, but mostly it's because I really, really want to fuck her. Hey, I never claimed to be a complex man.
I called her a few hours ago and told her to go ahead and get undressed by the time I came over so we could get started. No sense in wasting time, right? As I enter her apartment, seeing her standing naked under that transparent robe, clearly she had done exactly what I asked her to do. I hear her say, "You know what I mean, right? So thank you for coming over again, I really appreciate it!" Wait, had she been talking this whole time? Shit, I have no idea what she said or what ridiculous smile I had frozen on my awestruck face.
"No problem, I'm happy to do it!" I quickly answer, hoping that makes sense after whatever it was she was talking about.
I watched her slip off her robe and say, "So what exercise do you want to do first?" Now she's standing in front of me, utterly naked, and I am transfixed by her huge 48-inch udders. I feel my jaw hit the ground as my tongue unrolls across her apartment carpet like some stupid cartoonish hounddog from the 50s. Pull yourself together, man, if you're going to make this work. "I have some ideas, do you mind if I get naked as well?"
"Uh, I guess. Why do you have to get naked?" So glad you asked, since I had spent time that I should have spent working on budgets and proposals at work thinking about how to answer questions like that. Take a deep breath and dive in, buddy boy.
"We're doing more than stretching muscles, remember. We're also doing some therapeutic work on your inner energy, and that requires a deep level of trust and sharing. Now our bodies will be able to communicate more effectively and help keep us in balance and harmony." I had been practicing that pile of crap all day, and now that I'm hearing out loud, it sounds more outrageously idiotic than it did when it was still roaming around my perverted brain.
"That sounds great!" Oh right, outrageously idiotic is the theme I'm working with here.
I stare at her gorgeous figure while I take off my clothes. Don't be too eager, just slowly take off your shirt and pants. That's right, unbutton your shirt and deftly drop it to the carpet. Now for the pants, slowly, slowly... goddamnit, I hate when my ankle gets stuck in my pants. Now I look like a dork hopping around in my underwear and black socks trying to get these pants off. So much for being Mr. Smooth. Ugh, finally got them off.
And now for... oh man, there's no way I can hide this stiffie I have now. I'm supposed to be a professional, not some horny schmuck. "I'm... uh... I apologize for my... arousal." God, I hate the sound of my voice sometimes.
She laughed, "That's ok, I confess I get a little turned on by these exercises too!" She covered her mouth and giggled. Her cheeks became red again, and I could tell she was afraid I was going to think of her as a slut for being aroused by my completely non-sexual professionally-certified exercises. And the truth is, after yesterday I did think of her as a slut, but slutty in a good way. And by that I mean a slut I wanted to fuck.
"I was thinking we should start with the Buhjay." I was going to remind her what that entailed, but she thought for a moment and then smiled with recognition. Then she immediately got down on her knees in front of me. She grabbed my stiffening cock and instantly wrapped her gorgeous lips around it.