Pass the Grapefruit

I hadn’t played this game since I was a kid. All I could remember of it was that I hated it then and was reluctant to get sucked into it now. Of course, that was before I noticed who was setting the game up. We had just hired this cute but short gal to be in charge of the group-home’s activities. I hadn’t really had a chance to look at her much less notice her. Now that I had paused from my work long enough to check her out, I liked what I saw. The spring in her step was matched by the bounce of her plentiful breasts whenever she moved. And she moved quickly and with assurance from one side of the room to the other trying to line up participants for this game she wanted them to try. Now she needed to demonstrate it with someone who knew how to play it.

“Could you help me out here?” she smiled and batted her eyes at me. I was a sucker for a pretty smile and she had a brilliant smile that lit up the room. “We need to show these stiffs how to pass a grapefruit, you know, without using our hands.” And there, tucked beneath her chin, just inches above her bosom was this huge Florida Grapefruit. “First team to pass one all the way down their line to the end person wins.” She was a good 6 inches shorter than my own 5 and a half feet so I had to bend down a little to try and neck-wrestle the citrus away from her. Playfully we twisted and turned and pressed chests together, all the while keeping our hands behind our backs.

“See how easy this is?” she explained. “Anyone can do it.” The only difficult part, for me anyway, was keeping my growing erection from revealing just how much I was enjoying the game. Our faces were inches apart; our chests were matted together. The tent in my pants was growing.

The demonstration over, the real match began and our team lost by a couple seconds, probably due to my own practiced ineptitude. I wanted to take my time and enjoy the eager, if slightly clumsy, ministrations that my Grapefruit passing partner and I were enjoying. Damn, was she flirting with me? I know I’m a few years older than her ripe and ready-just-out-of-college body is but she could just as easily have picked someone else near by to be the demonstrator. When we sat down at a meeting later that day she passed me a note when no one was looking that asked: “Do you enjoy staring at my breasts?”

I’m sure I turned a few shades redder when I read that because I had, in fact, been staring at those double DDs for most of the meeting. Before I could scribble a reply I felt a foot sneaking up the inside of my pants leg coming perilously close to Mr. Happy.

That was how it started. I had been married for 15 years at this point and it seemed like my own sex life had ended 10 years ago. Even a little attention from a young cutie like Amy was enough to get the lead in my pencil sharp again. So, when she asked me if I wanted to go with the team for a few drinks after work, I didn’t need to think twice. We all downed three or four (two or three past my usual limit) and were giddily celebrating some arcane happening. Amy had been hit on by every guy in the bar by now and had even agreed to go for a “drive” with one of them. When they came back, the look on his face said that maybe she wasn’t drunk enough to have lost control. But it was my hand she was reaching for under the table now as she whispered that it was getting late and she wanted an escort to the now poorly lit parking lot and her car.

When we reached her car, it was my turn to get a little bolder. She had been clinging to my arm and held my hand tight in her own. I spun her around, bumping bellies in the process, and leaned down a little to taste her lips. Her lips parted in an instant and our tongues flicked against each others. I reached around her and hugged her close. She began to nibble on my tongue then on my lips then on my neck. Instinctively I reached with a free hand and tried to cover one of those ripe melons that balanced so precariously in her tight dress. More than a handful for sure, I thought, so I brought the other hand up to that same lucky breast and gave it a gentle squeeze.

She looked up at me with a wanton look in her eye and slowly pulled me backwards into her car on top of her. Fortunately, we had been making out next to the open back door of her spacious sedan so, when we fell, we tumbled on top of each other in the back seat. By now I was fumbling with the buttons on the front of the dress to get a better shot at those ripe melons of hers. Her own hands were busily working my trouser zipper down while she fished Mr. Happy out from his hiding place. The lot was pretty empty at this time, most of the others had long ago gone home to husbands, wives, or lovers or to empty apartments. Two more buttons came undone and the dress parted down the front. She reached around behind herself and in a motion that seemed well practiced, unsnapped her bra letting their inhabitants tumble out. My smile must have looked pretty goofy because she actually had to ask me if I liked what I saw.

“They’re beautiful!” was all I could muster in verbal reply. She seemed happy to hear that and undid my belt. “Let me help with that.” I offered. I lowered my trousers and pulled the car door shut behind me. I turned back to her to see that she was now pulling her panties down as she propped herself against a pillow in the back seat. I joked to her that her breasts were bigger than the grapefruit we had played with earlier in the day. She seemed embarrassed by this but the red in her cheeks was soon matched by the auburn color of her wide aureoles which I lowered my head onto prior to taking each one in turn in my mouth.

Her nipples quickly stiffened and I again used both hands on each breast to acquire support. I licked one, then the other; nibbled on one then on its twin. As she pulled her legs up on the seat, I made my way down to her honey pot, tracing a wet line from her left nipple to her waiting clit. I’d forgotten how wet a young woman could be. She was dripping already and as warm as a July evening in Florida. I sampled her precious liquors with my tongue and then put one then two fingers into her snatch and placed my thumb back on her clit. Her eyes seemed to roll back in her head as I applied some rotation on her sugar plum. “Don’t stop” she moaned. I certainly had no plan to stop now.

I withdrew my invading fingers and brought them to my mouth sucking them slowly and then putting them in her own mouth to taste. She sucked each finger dry then without a warning wrapped her arms behind my back and pulled me forward and into her with one thrust. It was like dipping my wicket into molten gold. I thought I would cum immediately but started pumping her as hard as I could anyway. The second thrust brought a muffled scream from her throat, the third and fourth thrusts brought forth something akin to a whimper.

The next few minutes disappeared in an ecstatic instant. I remember grabbing hold of her ass and letting loose with a grunt and a final push as I emptied a geyser of cum into her waiting orifice. She smiled at me and whispered: “Mmmm, that felt nice.” I just panted as I tried to catch my breath. I was more amazed than she was when I pulled out and realized I was still hard. “Looks like you could still use a little more lovin’,” she observed.

With that she rolled over onto her stomach, tucked her knees into her armpits and reached back to spread her ass cheeks wide. I could barely believe my good fortune, but was in no mood to question it. I grasped my well lubricated dick in hand and placed it at the tender opening to her anus. She wriggled backwards a little, I gave a light shove and I was in balls deep. I couldn’t hear the words or were they moans that were escaping her lips. But the sound of my balls slapping against her ass cheeks would have drowned out her words anyway.

God, she was tight, I remember thinking; but not too tight to enjoy. As I felt the second cumming approach, I pulled my dick out and stroked it a few times, finally spurting half a load onto her backside, the rest dribbled out in-between her ass cheeks. Then as quick as a gymnast, she spun around kissed me hard on the lips and told me she could hardly stand the thought of waiting a couple days to do me again.

Would tomorrow be too soon for a return engagement? It would be Saturday and we wouldn’t see each other at work; maybe I could come by her apartment if I could get away for a while. Yeah, I think I can make the time...