Tony squeezed the juice box and watched the amber liquid shoot out of the top of the straw that had been speared hastily through the foil covered hole on the box. The apple juice formed a beautiful arc as it fell quickly onto his daughter's sandy blond hair.
"Dad! Geez! Now my hair's gonna be sticky all day," his 8-year old chided him. She was furiously running her hands across the top of her head, which only resulted in a dark smear of juice slashing through the loosely braided mop of hair. It was rare that his wife was able to get his daughter to sit still long enough to comb the child's hair, much less braid it. The braid had been done yesterday for a family outing and had looked sufficient enough to him today that he hadn't wanted to mess with it further.
"Sorry, Charlie," he said as ran to his car and rummaged through the center console, searching frantically for the moist towelettes his wife kept for quick cleanups after their weekly ice cream excursions. His brain briefly launched into a flashing slide show of their most recent trip. Annie with a butterscotch sundae spilled all over her chest. Wet towelettes sopping up the mixture and visually turning the occasion into a wet t-shirt contest. Racing to the bedroom when they got home. Butterscotch nipples. Vanilla navel. Whipped cream pussy. He breathed deeply as his fingers grazed the tube filled with the wet tissues. Success. He backed out of the vehicle and shut the door. When he turned to head back toward his daughter, he quickly adjusted his erection. Damn. That's all he needed. Someone to see him striding toward an elementary school with a raging hard-on. Annie had left for work early today after a fight the night before. He had been left to get his daughter up and off to school. He was glad he had the day off of work and hadn't had to get himself ready as well. As he approached his daughter with the tube, she snatched it from his hands.
"If you hadn't dawdled this morning, you'd have had time to drink your juice at home. Come to think of it, you didn't even drink any. You'd barely handed me the box when it spurted out. You not feeling ok today, Charlie?" he asked, concerned. Charlene rarely was reluctant to go to school, yet this morning had been dragging her feet. Maybe she was ill.
"I'm fine. I just don't like it when you bring me to school. You drive me in your pajamas, Dad. It's embarrassing. Can you leave now?" she implored him, glancing furtively around, trying to ensure no one saw him standing with her. It wasn't likely as she was late for class and all the students were already inside the building. She shoved the wadded up ball of wet, sticky tissues into his hand and earnestly pleaded, "please, Dad? I'm gonna be late anyway. I gotta go." And with that she bounded off toward the Prairie style brick schoolhouse, leaving him with one hand holding the tube and wet ball of tissues, and the other with the offending juice box. He wasn't in his pajamas, he mused, as he swivelled his head around to look for a garbage can. Sweats and a t-shirt. His pajamas were his birthday suit. So were his wife's. His erection surged. Damn. A hand on his shoulder startled him. He swung to his right and the juice box continued it's path of destruction. In his surprise, his hand had gripped it much more powerfully, and it shot a long, straight stream onto the blouse of his surpriser.
"I've got a ..." she started, then gasped as the cold liquid hit her body. The juice quickly formed an oblong shape on the thin material and began to spread. She was quite a bit shorter than his 6 feet 3 inches and the juice had sprayed a line from just above her right elbow to her left, directly across her breasts. Visions of butterscotch flashed in his mind again as he cursed his sweat pants. They were doing little to hide his condition.
"I am so sorry,"he apologized.
"It's okay. I must have startled you. I thought you heard me coming," the brunette said as she looked down at herself and shook her head. She looked back up at him and started to laugh. She reached toward him, gesturing to the tube of wet tissues. He handed it to her, chuckling as well. She opened the tube and yanked several tissues out. Long, ginger colored nails pressed into her white blouse as she vigorously attempted to wipe away the stain. It was a losing battle. Tony was transfixed as he watched her. The thin material became transparent. He could see her lacy white bra. Scalloped edges molded across the curves, little embroidered white flowers pressing into the blouse. She continued her cleaning and her nipples began to distend like cherry stems. Cherries. Whipped cream. Butterscotch. Damn. He shifted his stance and raised his eyes, finding her staring intently back at him.
"I was just going to tell you that I've got a garbage bin in my van," she said as she pulled the blouse away from her body. It was a slow process, the material clinging to her skin, not wanting to let go. He understood how it felt. He wanted to touch that skin right now. A breeze came up and it billowed out her shirt briefly, but it quickly flapped back against her. A dry part of the shirt caught a wet part of her body and her shirt was now stuck against her in a jumble. He could now see her midriff. Little goose bumps were forming across the taught, tanned skin of her belly. He hadn't noticed how cool it was outside, consumed by controlling the heat in his groin. "Follow me so you can throw that stuff away," she offered. She struck out at a brisk pace to a van parked at the far end of the lot. He dutifully followed, albeit at a slower pace. His cock wouldn't allow anything faster.
She reached the shiny black van and slid her hand in her jeans pocket. He hadn't noticed the jeans yet. Soft, loose, yet fitting her hips and ass perfectly. She had delicate looking heels on her feet. Toenails were the same ginger color as her fingernails. She pulled her keys out of her pocket and pressed a button on the remote. After the locks clicked over, she slid the side door completely open. She bent over, retrieved the bin, turned and held it out toward him. Tony threw away the tissues. He stepped closer to her and set the tube on the back seat of her van. For some reason he noticed that it was fabric, not leather. Grey fabric with darker grey stripes. He turned the juice box upside down, emptying it before tossing the carton into the bin with the tissues.
