Claire Jumps My Daisy Dues

I was just standing in a check out line at the organic grocery south of the university.

Wilted by the summer heat, my only defense was to wear as little clothing as possible. I hated cargo shorts and board shorts: their knee-length legs were too long and too hot. On days when the mercury passed 110 only the short shorts of my youth would do. I wore that day a pair of 501 jeans cut off so short that Daisy Duke could have used them. I had left about two inches of inseam—just enough to keep my junk from falling out. They also had to be tight enough to contain me because I wasn't wearing any underwear. I wore a loose yellow t-shirt with the sleeves cut out. That was it. Two pieces of clothing. And river sandals.

She had done the same: flip-flops, lightweight cotton short shorts and a cropped tank top which exposed her midriff. She wore no bra, but I could see the outline of bikini undies through her tight shorts.

She stood in the check out line next to mine. I didn't notice her at first because I was ahead of her, but her line moved faster and soon she was right next to me. When I turned and looked I found her eyes on my butt and the backs of my thighs. She was so close she had lowered her head a little to get a good look. Her eyes were wide with what looked like wonder. I was amazed at her blatant ogling. She must have noticed my head turn because she lifted her head. As she did I looked away so I wouldn't embarrass her by catching her looking at my backside.

In my peripheral vision I saw her eyes on my face, but my eyes looked straight ahead in my line. I think my "lookaway" worked.

It did. She dropped her head again. The moment she did I moved my eyes to hers. Again I found her gawking, literally gawking with mouth open and eyes popping out of her head like she had never seen a butt like mine before. Or a guy in Daisy Dukes.

My ego swelled. So did my crotch. I could feel my cock beginning to push against the confines of tight denim. There were people in line behind us watching this young woman blatantly ogle me. She liked it so much her nipples got rock hard and started pushing through the light fabric of her tank top. Remember, summer in the Arizona desert is Sahara hot with Congo humidity—the kind of heat which wilted the sturdiest mind and body so severely that erect nipples were a statistical improbability. Yet there they were pushing for all they were worth from firm young breasts. Petite breasts. The grocery was air conditioned, but just enough to be comfortable.

She looked eighteen, maybe nineteen, a nubile young college student. She had straight shoulder length red hair, a sprinkling of freckles, pale white skin which had no business being exposed to the desert sun, and large pale blue eyes. She was petite—maybe 5'2 and a hundred pounds. I towered over her by a clear foot.

I didn't look away when she lifted her head, catching her eyes rising from my butt to my eyes. I smiled, but she looked mortified. She looked away, looked back, then blushed before making eye contact again. To return the favor and hopefully put her at ease I lowered my eyes to her smooth legs and let them drift up her body to her eyes while she watched me.

To my great disappointment she checked out first and walked out without looking back. When I exited a few minutes later she was waiting outside in the shade of the awning.

"Hello," I said.

"Oh.. hi," she said managing a smile.

"My name is Matt."

"Hi Matt."

"What's yours?"

"Oh. Claire. My name is Claire. Sorry."

"It's okay Claire. Are you alright?"

"Yes. I mean no. I mean can I ask you a favor?"

"Sure."

"Will you give me a lift home? I live south of the stadium and have a lot of refrigerated stuff."

"No problem," I said. "My car's this way."

She followed me around the corner. When I asked how she came so far she said a friend had dropped her off and she usually found a ride home easily with so many students around or caught the bus.

I think she liked that I had an ice chest in the trunk. I loaded our frozen and refrigerated foods into it.

"That's a good idea," she said.

We drove more than a mile to her tiny house in the old neighborhood south of the stadium. I found out that she was nineteen and about to begin sophomore year. She discovered that I was thirty-four and a visiting lecturer. She carried her groceries in. I carried the entire cooler inside because most of the food in it was hers.

I knelt on the kitchen floor in front of her open fridge loving the cold air falling out of it. I started putting away her refrigerated items.

"I really appreciate this," she said.

"My pleasure."

"Cool," she said. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Is that iced coffee?" I nodded at the pitcher on the top shelf.

"Yes," she said. "Do you like it?"

"Love it."

She smiled at this. We had something in common.

She pulled a tall glass from the cupboard, reached over me for ice, then brushed against me where I knelt, grabbed the pitcher and poured.

"Say when," she said, her legs resting against my torso as she stood straddling me.

"Fill her up if you can spare it," I said.

"I can."

From that moment I knew it was on. When a woman makes body contact like this she wants you. She handed me the glass and I took a sip.

"Mmm, delicious."

"Really? It's not too sweet?"

"It's perfect," I said.

"I'm glad you like it," she said leaning against me a little as she moved to put the pitcher back in the fridge. "You can put your stuff in the fridge, too," she said, her hand on my shoulder. "Okay?"

"Okay."

I began putting my stuff in her fridge one-handed, sipping the iced coffee with the other.

"Let me help," she said.

She knelt next to me, pulled the last few items out of the cooler and put them away, her torso in contact with mine. With nothing to do I put my free hand on her waist. Claire smiled, turned and kissed me holding my shoulder.

I sat back on my haunches pulling her into my lap with one hand, still holding the iced coffee in the other. She kissed with youthful enthusiasm, both arms around my neck, then took my glass, put it in the fridge and sat on my lap, straddling. With both hands free I got busy caressing her while we kissed in front of the open fridge, its cool air still pooling around us on the cool tile floor.

She didn't object when I lifted her top, helping me by lifting her arms over her head as I pulled it off. I returned the favor, lifting my arms as she pulled off my shirt.

"Mmm," she hummed inspecting my chest and belly with her eyes followed closely by her hands.

I kept kissing her. She pressed small pert breasts to me. Her fingers ran down my back and into my cut-offs. I slid hands up her thighs and into her shorts as she sat on me.

She broke the kiss and rose, pulling me up.

I closed the refrigerator door and lifted her in my arms. She thrilled at this, goose bumps sheeting on her arms before melting in the heat. She wrapped legs around my waist and squeezed me hard before relaxing her grip a little, her arms around my shoulders and neck, her tongue moving with mine.

When she came up for air I nibbled her earlobe, my teeth gently touching the stud and tiny loop of her double piercing. She exhaled at this, hummed her approval, then put her mouth on my neck and whispered in my ear:

"Take me to the couch."

I walked from kitchen to living room. When I sat down she unwrapped legs from my torso but remained in my lap straddling me. I kissed her neck and shoulders and breasts, loving the taste and feel of her hard young nipples on my lips and tongue.

"God you're sexy," she whispered in my ear.

"So are you," I exhaled.

"Love these cutoffs," she twinkled, her fingertips inside the denim waistline.

"You are so sweet," I said then kissed her again.

"Takem off," she gasped between kisses.

I did. She pulled off her shorts and panties at the same time.

"You went commando today," she smiled, her eyes in my lap.

"Too hot," I replied.

"I get that," she said matter-of-factly.

After folding down the futon couch she climbed on. Our bodies met in the middle. Foreplay raged with gentle abandon.

"Let me get a sheet," she said.

I let go of her.

She got up, retrieved a sheet and spread it beneath us, folding it in half. Yep. Full on sex was imminent.

When I laid back down she straddled me, took hold of my erection and slid on.

"Nnnnnnnn... oh my God," she said pushing down on me. "Oh! Oh fuck this is so wrong," she exhaled, eyes closed, her face a combination of passion and guilt. "Oh God! Oh fuck!" she gasped sitting fully upright, her body pressing down urgently. "I really shouldn't be doing this."

I felt her tight wet teen pussy push open against my cock as she pressed, relaxed, withdrew a little and pressed down again, her mouth open, her face contorted in passion. She didn't stop doing this until she was all the way on.

I ran my hands from her thighs up her torso, pressing one over her heart. Her warm knees squeezed my ribs.

From under pale red eyelashes her big icy blue eyes opened and looked down into mine.

"You are stunningly beautiful," I whispered brushing her breasts lightly in my hands then caressing down her pale white belly before resting my palms on her thighs again. "You take my breath away."

Her pupils widened and her face softened as she relaxed, reassured. The small of her back loosened suddenly which showed in the movement of her hips. I took her hands off my chest and held her wrists, running my thumbs inside her palms. Liking this she smiled down at me, her amorous eyes growing larger until they rolled back in her head, her eyes closing in soft ecstasy. She arched her back the last little bit required to really let go and, well, really let go.

We didn't speak again until she collapsed in my arms belly to belly, heart to heart, her red hair in my face, her face next to mine on the pillow. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open, her chest heaving as she panted. She rested until until her breath returned to normal. I could feel her heart pounding in her chest through my chest. It slowed to normal, too. I caressed every bit of her I could reach.

I flexed my thirty-four year old cock in her nineteen year old pussy. Her eyes went big and she giggled, squeezing me back. I swept her hair out of my face and mouth then caressed her shoulders lightly, my fingers spreading and feeling every delicious contour of her shoulder blades, back and butt as I held her. She sighed in contentment.

It was hot. Monsoon hot. Her tiny house only had evaporative cooling which made the hot humid air grossly more humid while cooling it just a little. A ceiling fan turned full speed above us. A definite help, it wasn't enough to stop us from sweating profusely. I felt stuck to the cotton sheet beneath me. It beaded on her forehead and her hair was damp. Rivulets ran down the small of her back until my hands swept them away. She had gone deep inside to enjoy her orgasm before looking at me through heavy-lidded eyes. Her body flushed lightly in the heat and afterglow.

I thought she might want to stop after three orgasms, but once she got her breath she slid off me and got on all fours. In one fluid motion I rolled up behind her and did the appropriate thing by pushing into her again. Her movements quickly became more athletic than mine, sliding herself back and forth on my cock with excited urgency, pumping and screwing her hips in excited circles, gasping, moaning and squeaking in ecstasy.

I grabbed her hips and pounded her furiously, crying out when I blew what felt like a massive load into her tiny teen pussy, my last thrusts so violent she collapsed face down on the futon with me on top of her, my dick pulsating deep inside her. My orgasm seemed to go on forever.

She panted pinned beneath me. I wiggled my hips side to side feeling my rod press against the walls of her vagina as I lay panting on top of her, my mouth on her neck. When she lifted and turned her head to one side I pressed lips to hers. She sucked my tongue inside her mouth. I squeezed my cock inside her. She squeezed back. I stayed inside her even as my erection faded, secretly hoping by remaining there it would increase the chance of insemination. She had to be ovulating. Why else would she be so horny as to blatantly ogle me at the grocery then invite me home.

We hardly spoke, rolling on her futon, coupling frantically as we raced from orgasm to orgasm.

When I'm having sex I always wonder how long it's going to last. Some women are one-and-done. An orgasm a day keeps the doctor away. Others stop after two or three, perhaps afraid to cross the boundary into the deep territory a multiple orgasm fuckfest. Some women live scheduled lives of time limits, stopping after an hour when it's time to do other things. My favorites are the unplanned, free-range women: once they get started they don't know when it's going to end. Claire was that way.

I left her house at nine that night after nearly three hours of sex including three showers together to cool us off and rinse away the sweat of our mad coupling, including the mad coupling we did we did in the shower.

"May I call you?" I asked before I left.

"Um... umm..." she fumbled, embarrassed.

"Here," I said, pulling out my business card. "I'll leave you my number and you decide, okay? No pressure."

"Okay."

"But for the record I'd really like to call you tomorrow to see if you're all right."

"Thanks, Matt," she said, "but really, I'll be okay."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

"Look, you can't call because I have someone already."

"Oh. Okay."

"I can't even keep your card," she said, handing it back.

"I understand, Claire," I said, taking it.

She pressed in for one more kiss by the door.

"I'm in the phonebook if you ever-"

"Okay," she said, cutting me off.

She let go and I left.

Three weeks later my phone rang on a Friday night. It was Claire.

"I'm pregnant," she said.

"Does he know?" I asked.

"I don't have a boyfriend," she replied. "I live with my girlfriend."

"I see," I said, remembering I hadn't much evidence of a man living in her house when I was there. It was notably absent of guy stuff. "Does she know?"

"No."

"Where is she?"

"Away again. We need to talk."

I drove over. She had already made the appointment for Monday. I told her I would drive her and pay for the abortion. She said her insurance covered all but the deductible. I cut a check.

"I'm really sorry," I said.

"It's my fault," she said. "I should have known better."

"We never talked about it."

"No we didn't," she said, then hesitated. "You're very fertile. I could tell just by looking at you."

"So are you," I said.

"No I'm not. It wasn't supposed to be able to happen."

"Really. Does that mean something changed?"

"Maybe."

I didn't ask for further details and she didn't supply them. We sipped iced coffee, our eyes meeting over the cups and darting away as if it were dangerous for them to linger there too long. Soft hues of pink, red and purple light flooded through the windows from another stunning Arizona sunset. For a few minutes everything inside her house glowed in that light. Then as quickly as it had come the moment and the color were gone. Outside the blazing summer heat was far from over, but it wasn't nearly as hot as it had been the day we had given ourselves to each other in passionate abandon.

She climbed into my lap where I sat in a kitchen chair and rested her head on my chest. I held her. Her fragrant body filled my senses. We didn't talk for a long time.

"You know, Matt..."

"What?"

"I can't get any more pregnant."

I swept silky long red hair off her face. She looked up at me, the seductive little smile on her lips. I lowered my lips to hers. Our soft, tender kiss soon deepened as she pressed herself her lips strongly to mine. She whimpered a little when my fingers brushed her hard little nipples through her top. I picked her up and carried her to the living room futon.

I stayed all night.