Women Are Devious

“John, you’re wrong; women are

not

more devious than men.”

“It’s a proven fact, Baby. Remember, I’m not referring to you personally.”

Lori tossed her head and tried not to show her amusement. This was a running argument between herself and John. Well, not an argument, they never argued—just a difference of opinion. After all, they’d only been living together for two months.

“Give me a ‘for instance’?” Lori insisted, as she started to clear the breakfast table.

“This is a no-win situation for me,” he stood up, stretched, and took his own plate over to the counter, “Okay. A ‘for instance’; my mother would get mad at my father for working on his research papers instead of paying attention to her.”

“So?”

“So instead of telling him to what she was thinking or that he was ticking her off she waited until he was taking his hot shower and then she ran the dishwasher and the clothes washer. I remember seeing her standing in the hall as she listened to him in there yelling and cursing when he ran out of hot water and she’d smile. Afterward she’d say to him in the sweetest, most loving voice ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Jack, I don’t know what I was thinking’ and what’s worse the old man bought it.”

Lori burst into the familiar peals of laughter that always made John want to pick her up, throw her over his shoulder and head for the bedroom and she added,

“I’ll have to remember that.”

“That’s one of the reasons I think we should always shower together, baby, I’m distrustful. Speaking of that, I ran 8 miles this morning, I could use a shower now,” he pulled her to him lustfully, one hand cradling the back of her head, his fingers laced in her thick copper colored hair.

“I thought you had that project today,” Lori teased. She could afford to be coy; John had already awakened her in the night for some dedicated lovemaking.

“You’re right; I was hoping to work on the gazebo,” John’s lips hovered over hers, inflaming her as always, “But I can rearrange my time for a long shower, baby, I’m distrustful, but flexible.”

On the other hand, Lori considered, she wanted that gazebo ready for the cookout they were planning soon. John could feel her cool down.

“You said it would take up the whole weekend,” she reminded him.

“Well, then what’s on the agenda today?” he shrugged, reluctantly releasing her.

“I’m just going to run in to the post office and the drugstore. You can proceed with your assignment, full speed ahead.”

John rubbed his hand on his furry chest in a lazy way,

“I’m still going to shower before I start. All by myself, I guess.”

He looked down at her suspiciously,

“Where will you be?”

Laughing enticingly again, Lori walked to the dishwasher and closed it,

“Don’t worry, it’s not full.”

John glanced down at her slim bare legs below her very tight, very brief shorts and came over to her, putting his arms around her waist,

“I’ll be awfully lonesome in that shower.”

“You’re a broken record. I already had my shower—I’m leaving for the post office,” she patted his cheek and slipped out of his arms as she headed to the front room for her handbag and the mail, her hips swinging.

John had promised to have Lori's swing-laden gazebo finished by her birthday cook out the following weekend. Carpentry was a hobby and he was very good at it. With the proper motivation, it wasn't long before he had his tools aligned to begin the job. Still, he dawdled. Between the high Carolina cloudless sky and the gentle breeze that would cool him off were he on the lake, the boat in the boathouse below seemed to be calling his name. The mid July sun beat down on his back as he worked, and he had the CD player blasting out Bruce Springsteen—

Dancin’ In The Dark

. Music from when he was in high school. Twenty-five year old stuff. Lori was almost ten years younger and she kidded him about his "old man music" as she called it, although she loved The Boss.

Returning home, Lori put away the stamps from the post office and the few things she picked up from the store. It was clear they would be staying home this afternoon, maybe go to a movie later tonight. But for now she had nothing to do. Scrap-booking didn’t appeal to her and she’d done yard work all day yesterday. No use making the 40 minute drive to her best friend Bonnie’s if she and John were to go out later. Besides, John didn’t like her to be gone on the weekends much. Now that she had practically ordered him to work on the gazebo they wouldn’t be going out on the boat. Maybe he’d like a cold drink. She plucked a cold beer from the fridge for him. It was nearing noon and the oppressive heat smote her in the face as soon as she opened the sliding glass door and sauntered out to where he was working. John had peeled off his t-shirt and sweat gleamed on his darkly tanned shoulders and back as he squatted over his work. Lori surveyed him with a sudden hunger. He had such a nice ass, tight and yet rounded. It was curious how the man you loved hop-scotched in your eyes from a bud you could giggle with over stupid movies and bad jokes, to the loafer you had to beat with a stick to take out the garbage and back again to hottie of the year. He looked up at her briefly, completely unaware of her libidinous longings and then returned his attention to the work at hand but asked,

“Hey, Sugarpuss. Did you get everything you wanted?”

“Pretty much. How’s it going?”

“Just fine. By the end of this weekend I should have a lot done. I could work until dark, but I know you want to do something later so I’ll just work on this for a few hours today and then work all day tomorrow.”

“I brought you something cold.”

“Mmm, good. Thanks.”

Taking the sweating can from her he took a long swig and then set it aside.

Lori glanced over at his tools laid out precisely in pockets and crannies of a leather apron on the picnic table and spied a steel retractable tape measure like her father’s. Her dad always called his a yo-yo. John was very organized with his tools like her father, too.

“Do you call this a yo-yo?”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“Are you using directions for this or a blueprint or something?” she questioned him with a frown.

“There’s a Time-Life book over there on the table with plan for a gazebo pretty much like this one, no swing, but I found plans over on another page for a swing, and I’m modifying it,” John told her without looking up from his work.

“Is that okay to do?” Lori wondered out loud, perusing the book idly and then she gazed at him.

John gave her one of his penetrating looks that usually quenched her desire for further conversation,

“It is if you know what you’re doing.”

He got the measuring tape out and used it, marking places on the wood and then set it down nearby.

“Want me to put it back for you?” Lori asked; eager to be of help, “I know where it goes.”

“No, I need to use it every so often right now.”

Lori, unable to remain silent any longer in spite of John’s earlier unspoken rebuke, asked one or two more questions, but John’s answers were brief so she gave up and simply sat on the picnic table watching him intently and in silence for a time. For some reason she felt at loose ends. She had baked Wednesday and Friday so there were plenty of goodies in the house already. Her housework was caught up, even the laundry. At last she ventured another question,

“Are you hungry?”

“Hmmm, not right now, but supper’s a long time off, I might come and get something in an hour or so. What time is it?”

“Just about noon, I think. Okay, well, just get me when you come in and I’ll fix you something.”

“Sounds good.”

Getting down from the table she crouched beside John a moment, literally looking over his shoulder. She observed closely, her arms wrapped around her knees; then studied his face fondly, having nothing better to do. Feeling her gaze John looked over at her and winked, then stood up and turned to the table to get something. He was frankly hoping she was not going to stick by his side like a burr while he worked. The nearness of her was most distracting, making it all but impossible to concentrate, and now that he had started he really wanted to work on the gazebo this afternoon. Her tanned legs and soft scent were beginning to melt his resolve. John looked at the page in the Time-Life book as if he were studying it and considered what he could say to make her get the hell back in the house without hurting her feelings. She was still sitting on her heels where he had been working, her back to him, when she shot a fleeting look at him over her shoulder. John came back and resumed his labors.

“Well, I guess I’ll go in now,” Lori cheerfully announced out of the blue, standing up, “It’s so hot. I think I’ll read my mystery for a while.”

“Okay, baby,” John answered with relief.

With that, she strolled back to the cabin, humming to herself. Something about this behavior struck John as odd and he glanced back up at her in time to see her go in the sliding glass door. She shut it and stood at the door staring intensely out at him a moment. Then she turned and disappeared. He couldn’t figure out exactly why he thought that was peculiar, but he did. Throwing it off, he continued to work methodically until he needed to use the measuring tape again; it seemed to have gone missing. He picked up different items thinking he might have laid something on top of it. Swearing softly he went and checked the tool apron to see if he’d returned it there by mistake and then he stopped and looked back at the cabin speculatively. He could hear a speedboat buzzing by on the lake and the slightest puff of a breeze rustled the pine trees at the edge of the yard and cooled him momentarily.

She had it all right. John started up to the cabin and when he got to the deck he peered in through the glass door before he opened it. The southern sun was glaring against the glass and he shaded his eyes, looking through the dining area into the front room. Lori was slouched sideways across his old armchair, seemingly engrossed in her paperback. Her back was against one arm of the chair, and one leg was hooked over the other chair arm, foot in the air. Sprawled there, none too ladylike, she appeared totally relaxed, but John noticed her foot bounced up and down nervously.

He opened the door and came into the dining room. The interior of the large log cabin they called home was so much darker his eyes had to adjust. An overhead Casablanca fan spun languidly, giving the air conditioner a boost.

“Oh, you ready for lunch after all?” Lori queried, her voice full of innocent concern.

“No. Have you seen my measuring tape?”

“Measuring tape?”

“Yeah,” John said, remaining by the door as Lori got to her feet warily, “The one you asked about. I can’t find it.”

One corner of her mouth twitched,

“Well, John, it has to be there, doesn’t it?”

John smiled inwardly; really, she was such a laughably abysmal liar.

“I think you took it, baby. What do you say?”

“Me? Why would I take it?”

John could see she was poised for flight, but she surprised him with the speed of her reaction. As he stepped toward her she shrieked and moved like lightning toward the front door. She was through it and racing outside before he could get halfway to the door. He could hear her laughing breathlessly and he could tell she was heading toward the right side of the house. Wheeling around he headed back out through the sliding glass door, leaving it open so she wouldn’t accidentally run right through it. For a former dancer, she was appallingly clumsy and accident-prone.

“I want that measuring tape, Lori!” he shouted as he came around the house in time to see her switch direction in the side yard and she headed back to the front door.

“I don’t have it!” she sniggered in breathless anticipation.

This time John simply followed hot on her heels. He could easily overtake her with his longer stride; he only hoped she didn’t fall and break something. Lori ran through the front door, slamming it shut as she threw her weight against it in a feeble attempt to try to close it on him but John shouldered his way in. Screaming she then turned and dashed across the living room floor to the dining ell. She was attempting to make it to the open glass door. John thought she might have hit high C when she screeched that last time because his ears were ringing.

“Stop going in circles!” John roared. He caught up with her in the dining room, grabbing her waist and tickling her into temporary capitulation.

“Where is it?”

“I hid it in the chair,” she gasped out between giggles, “Stop, John!”

He dragged her over to the chair and held her with one arm while he reached down into the cushions for the tape measure but didn’t find anything but a couple popcorn kernels and some loose change. Meanwhile, Lori nearly twisted out of his grasp, so John wrestled her to the carpeted floor and lay on top of her, holding her arms above her head by the wrists with one hand.

“You’re squishing me--get off!” she hollered, but she was only offering token resistance now that he’d quit tickling her.

“I think you have it on your person,” he informed her severely and then frowned, “I’m going to have to strip search you.”

He pulled her shirt out of her shorts and up over her bra. Her luscious size D breasts were billowing above the cups of the lacy brassiere and John pushed his nose in against her considerable cleavage.

“Maybe it’s in here?”

“John!” she scolded, loving every minute.

“You could probably hide a lot of things in here,” he concluded, “So to be on the safe side I’m afraid this has to go,” and he unhooked her bra and pulled it up with her shirt and then tugged them both up to her wrists.

“God! Are you convinced now? I don’t have your stupid tape measure!”

John nodded, enjoying the site of her full breasts swaying back and forth, her nipples erect and the large areolas rosy beige, as she tried to twist out of his grip. God, how he loved her nipples.

“Evidently the tape measure was not in your bra,” he admitted, “However; as long as I’m here…”

He released her wrists, using his arm as a pillow to cradle her head and then kissed her, their lips meeting tenderly, his other hand caressing one of her breasts. Shrugging her hands out of her twisted shirt and bra, Lori put her arms around John’s neck. His lips move from her yielding mouth to her throat and then he rubbed his face gently against her soft breasts and hard nipples, in John’s opinion an inspired combination of nature, and then kissed them.

“Lori, Lori,” he said softly.

“Oh, Sweetie.”

Responding breathlessly, Lori was overcome with love and passion. Taking her nipple into his mouth John sucked gently as she ran her fingers through his coarse black hair. Kissing her breast again he asked her in the same low and intimate voice,

“Where did you hide my tape measure, baby?”

“John! Is that all you can think of at this moment?”

“No, that’s not all I can think of, but I was wondering.”

He fondled her ass with one hand while the other slid to her waist to unbutton her jean shorts and bumped against a familiar shape in the mini-pocket alongside the front pocket.

“Damn! There it is!”

Lori yelped and lifted her legs, trying to twist away so he couldn’t get the purloined tool, but John jumped up to his knees and grabbed at her legs. She almost escaped, but he had her now, one leg clamped under his left arm tightly, the other leg grasped in his right hand; her foot in the air,

“Gotcha,” he announced triumphantly.

“What are you gonna do? Make a wish?” Lori jeered.

“No, you’re going to give that tape measure to me, baby. Take it out of your pocket and put it down on the floor.”

Oh, here’s your stinking tape measure!” Lori pouted. She dug into her tight pocket and got the tape measure out, “I’m sorry I took it--I was only teasing. I didn’t want the damned thing anyway. Now go do your ‘if I were a carpenter’ thing. I’ll just put my clothes back on if you’ll let go of me.”

“Just lay it down on the floor and push it away from your body like they say in the old detective movies.” John grinned, refusing to let go of her legs to take the thing from her, “And, Sugarpuss, if you wanted some extra love and attention, why didn’t you just say so? You didn’t have to come out and steal my stuff. As I’ve said before women are so damned devious.”

Looking down at Lori, he took stock of the position he had her in at the moment,

“Hmm, what an interesting situation.”

Slowly he pulled her legs yet higher in the air and he dropped from his knees resting his backside on his heels.

“John,” Lori warned him, giggling.

“Lori,” he raised one eyebrow and replied in the identical tone of voice, mocking her.

Still looking at her he began to nibble on her inner thigh. Her skin was firm and golden tan there and he took his time before he unsnapped her shorts and pulled them off her legs, lowering her hips to his lap while he did so.

What…what about…the gazebo?” she asked breathlessly.

John licked her thigh, a little lower this time and lifted his shoulder lackadaisically,

“I’ll work on that later. Much later.”

Then, before Lori could say anything else, John lowered his mouth and started kissing her already damp, panty-covered pussy, sensually and slowly, making her pulse shoot up and mad feelings to course through her. He inhaled her tantalizing fragrance. Lori’s breathing got heavy and a moan involuntarily escaped her, as John kissed and tongued her pussy right through the silky material of her panties and they became more saturated with her juice and John’s saliva. Unconsciously she began pushing her pelvis up, shoving herself into his face. John went right on nuzzling her pussy, pushing aside the soaked material with his tongue and licking her lips. He let go of her legs and put his hands underneath her bottom to pull her hips upward. Lori started whimpering as he slid his fingers in the leg opening of her panties, teasing her, touching her smooth, shaven mound lightly. He lifted his face and his eyes met hers,

“Oh, baby,” he muttered fervently and started slowly pulling down her panties with his teeth, dragging them down her legs.

Discarding the flimsy lace panties, John covered her firm inner thighs with kisses and spread her legs wide. Her pink and luscious pussy was exposed in all its glory to John. Tenderly his fingers opened her lips and he sucked them; then began exploring her every fold with his tongue as she sighed and made little moans of pleasure. By this time her slit was a bubbling volcano of hot juice that John lapped up eagerly as he searched out her clit and sucked gently on it.

His dark blue eyes were looking up at her to see her reaction.

When he glanced up earlier she had the first knuckle of one hand caught between her teeth, murmuring his name, but now she reached down and put her fingers in John’s hair, lightly massaging his head. She spoke softly,

“Johnny, I want you in my mouth, please. I need your cock.”

It was difficult for Lori to synchronize her climax when she was going down on him, John knew, but each time she wanted him in her mouth nevertheless. She always held his dick in her hands and mouth like a child with a pacifier and then as soon as he had brought her to a screaming climax she eagerly moved on to what was for her the enjoyable art of making him cum--and cum hard. John quickly stripped off his shorts and briefs and they rolled over so that he was on his back and Lori’s dripping pussy was above his face.

“Sit on me, baby. Drown me,” John grabbed her and pulled her down hard, kneading the smooth white globes of her lovely ass with his strong hands.

“John, my God,” she groaned in bliss and then her hands were on his hard cock, her wet tongue circling the big purple knob of the head. John was even more impassioned as her juices bathe his lips and chin. She was taking his cock farther into her mouth and holding on to him.