The Blac Biini

Ray walked onto the porch with another two bottles and handed her one.

Ray said, "Well, too, the thing with my wife is that when all that happened I wasn't real proud of how I behaved, you know? I went nuts."

Renee said, "Well, I bet! Can't blame you for that."

He said, "No, well, it was really not cool, some of the stuff I pulled. Not cool at all. I finally had to take a look at myself and really ask myself what kind of man I really am, pulling wacky shit and getting all obsessive. It wasn't cool at all, and I'm still not proud of any of it. So I sucked it up and stayed."

She played with her hair, raising her arm and showing off a fine breast in the black top. "Is that really fair? It seems unfair, that your wife did something, and you decided not to end it, but you haven't done anything? What does she think?"

He made a wry smile. "Actually, she told me once I should get a girlfriend. 'It'd be good for you', she said. I couldn't believe it."

Renee dropped her arm. "That's CRAZY!"

He shrugged, again, and made a short sighing noise. "The world is full of crazy people."

They stood together, watching the seventy-three year veteran pluck flower buds.

Renee said, "You know, I don't see you guys do much together. You don't seem to go out, like, get dressed up and stuff."

Ray said, "No, not really. We don't socialize much together. I mean, the home life is fine, but it's more about our daughter at this point." He looked out over the empty, scorching street. "Yeah. Well, like, today, she's at school, and she'll go out with friends, and probably won't be back until tomorrow morning."

The two of them, Ray and his neighbor, stood silently for quite a while. Then, Renee said, "You should totally do something with someone else."

Ray said, "Yeah, probably, it would be good for me. But-" he laughed- "all our friends are married. And it's really, really hard for a married guy to do things outside a marriage without seeming like a total dirtbag. And I don't like that idea, of seeming like a dirtbag who cheats on his wife." He took a pull of the beer bottle and leaned against the wall. "We've been 14 years, now." He gestured at Mrs. Lambino with the bottle's neck. "That's where I'll be, fifty years from now, if I live that long. You watch."

Renee faced him squarely, bottle held at waist height in front of him. "You should totally, totally do something. With someone." She waited for a long time.

"How about me?"

He almost dropped his beer. After an initial speechless period, he managed to croak out a very inarticulate "Huh?" He thought, fantasies are one thing, the real deal being something else altogether.

She continued. "You should fuck me. We should totally do it. Let's do it."

He came close to falling over, blinked several times, then said, "Okay. Yeah."

She bluntly said, "Your place? Or mine?"

He said, "How about yours? I know what my place looks like."

She turned to walk away, holding the bottle of beer. "Get a few more beers and come on over. Let's do this. Totally."

He thought, "This has got to be about that Rocket fool cheating on her. Got to be."

He rushed in, grabbed the rest of the 12-pack, and just about fell down the porch steps. He decided to stop, briefly, and try to relax a little. He stood in the back yard, breathing, looking around the neighborhood for a few minutes.

Then he walked next door.

The stairway to her place was dark and narrow. It was in the foyer, and the front inside entrance for the lower place was a door set in a crudely built wall. He walked up the old, creaky stairs, running his hand on the vintage bannister rail, listening to the squeaks and groans of the wood risers.

The door at the top of the steps was open and he walked in, saying, "Hello?"

He heard Renee's voice call out, "Come on in!"

The apartment was hot; he could hear a window air conditioner running, in the bedroom probably, and the place was dark. There wasn't much furniture: a futon, an entertainment center, a fuzzy rug. The front room, where you came into the apartment, had some knicknacks on shelves, a few candles on wall-hung sconces, and a poster of some emo band. He walked into the room, turned around, and was faced with a gigantic portrait of Marilyn Monroe that covered damn near the entire wall. Renee walked into the room, still wearing the black bikini and looking very fine indeed. She approached him, touched his bare stomach, and pulled a beer out of the box.

"So?" she said, smirking.

He had to say it: "You're really gorgeous." He meant it.

She made a face and grabbed the front of his pants, which he took as a sign to get started. He guessed, anyway; Ray realized his makeout skills were fourteen years in storage, and knew he was, well, kind of a bit rusty. So he reached out, hooked a finger in the center of the bikini top, and pulled her close to him, rocking her in and letting her tip back a couple of times. She smelled like suntan lotion and hair conditioner.

"So, uh, what do you like?" he asked.

She tipped her pretty head back and said, "Try something and I'll let you know. I'm down with a lot of stuff." She smiled, bleached teeth gleaming in the dusky room.

He set the beer box down carefully. When he stood back up he bent his elbows and cupped her delectable breasts, stroking the undersides and the nipples through the fabric of the top. Renee took a long, slow slug of her beer and set it down on the top of the entertainment center. She reached behind her head to the bikini tie, undid it, and flipped the garment down and then off, pulling on the other tie and letting the top fall to the floor. She had terrific breasts.

"Come on," she said, taking his forearm and leading him, walking backwards herself. She pulled him along into a short hallway, then turned them into another room, the bedroom. The place was dim, the only light filtering through a translucent shade, and like the front room there wasn't much in the way of possessions: a rack of CD's, a boom box, a digital alarm clock, a lamp on a low end table. In front of the window, the lower part filled with the window air conditioner, was a short table lined with candles. He guessed her makeup was all in the bathroom.

He turned her around, sat down on the bed and, facing her, reached around and grabbed her delicious ass while craning his neck to nibble at her tits. She shoved forward and felt the back of his head, breathing audibly. Glancing sideways at the tubular bed frame, he saw something interesting hanging from the top bar: a pair of handcuffs, lined with pink fake fur. Rotating his eyes to the other end of the room, he saw another picture: a smaller poster of Marilyn Monroe, this one a nude.

"Is there a key for those?" he asked, nodding at the cuffs.

Renee leaned over without saying anything and opened the top drawer of the end table, revealing a small collection of sex stuff: condom packets, lotions, lubricants, and an egg-style vibrator. He spotted a snatch of pink fake fur, and reached for that: the handcuff key was attached to it. Rubbing the lower section of her ass cheeks with his right hand he reached over and unlocked the cuffs, Renee watching.

When he had them off the bed frame he ordered her, "Put your hands behind your back."

She did it. He stopped for a second and regarded the half-naked, sexy thing in front of him, eyes heavy lidded and breathing hard, hands crossed behind her. He put the cuffs on her wrists and adjusted them for comfort, then pulled her to him and forced her to straddle his lap. She gasped when he licked a nipple, and responded enthusiastically when he kissed her on the mouth. He probed with his tongue and she returned the act, licking and flicking with practiced skill. Cupping her ass he felt around with his fingers for her pussy. She reared up and gave him access to herself, and he stroked the smooth cloth of the suit until he felt moisture.

He moved his hands to her waist, moving her around some, still kissing her mouth, and lowered her wet pussy onto his growing cock; she rocked her hips firmly, rubbing against him, dry-humping like a teenager in her parents' car, and beginning to smell like sex. Her breasts swayed, pink nipples poking into his chest when their bodies brushed against each other.

He didn't want to get her completely naked just yet: she was too beautiful to rush things.

She interrupted the action for a second with a quietly stated order. "There's a blindfold in there," she said, nodding at the still-open drawer. "Get it out and put it on me." She smiled. "Do it right".

He reached over, rummaged a little, and found a funny blindfold, black satin with loud pink fur around the edges. He put it carefully over her head (she had to bend over a little to lower the top of her head) and adjusted it to fit. She breathed a touch more heavily and pressed against him, rubbing him and sliding a firm, tanned stomach against his chest. He could feel the navel ring against him, and the necklaces clinked in a small musical way.

She was crazy beautiful.

She kept sliding against his cock until she got actually soaking and he couldn't stand it any more.

Kissing her mouth, playing, he lifted her off him and made her stand up. When she was on her feet he pulled down the bikini bottom, pausing twice, once when they just folded down below her pussy, and again at her knees. She swayed a little, and he dropped them on the floor. She stepped out of the legs and stood in front of him, naked except for her jewelry. She bumped against his knees a little, and he bent over and ran his tongue around the lower parts of her body, gripping her round hips to hold her in place.

He stopped for a minute and backed her up; she stumbled a little bit, and he carefully helped her balance. Reaching down to himself he stripped off his shoes, jeans, and boxers. When he was naked he pulled her closer to him.

He put a tentative kiss on her darkish pubic hair, and she moved against him, so he carefully turned her and laid her on the bed. She flipped a little with her hands, getting comfortable, and when she seemed settled he lifted a firm thigh and went for her pussy with his mouth. Licking and stroking, he worked on her wetness until she was moaning softly. He was thinking of spreading her out and really getting into her when she stopped him.

"Take these off," she said, shaking the cuffs.

He picked up the key from the small table and quickly flicked them off, for some reason placing them back on the bed rail where they'd started. She rubbed her wrists a little, smiled that shining smile, and reached for the drawer. She left the blindfold on. Rummaging for second she extracted a condom packet and tore it open, handing it to him.

"Put it on."

He took the condom out, noticing, amused, it was a neon blue wrap with thick ribs and studs. She was really funny. He slipped it on himself, having to look down to make sure it was adjusted right, and when he turned back to the lovely woman next to him she'd put her arms over her head to grab the top bar and spread her legs, inviting him in. He got up on his knees, leaned over and kissed her on the mouth (she licked his lips), took his weight on one hand and guided himself into her with the other. She was slippery wet, and he went into her with almost no effort, but still able to feel the contours and taught feel of her body. He felt her easily through the condom, and the sensuality of it made his head spin.

He placed his elbows over her body and positioned nicely for motion. She bucked against him and whispered something certainly dirty, and he reared back, paused, and rammed into her, not hard exactly, but firmly, getting in her as far as he could, then did it again. She gasped and squirmed and bit his body gently where she could reach. He couldn't believe what was happening.

He fucked her for as long as he could while she murmured and wiggled fetchingly.

When he just couldn't take it any more he told her, "I'm coming." She nodded her head and grabbed his ass with both hands, clenching him into her and kneading his buttocks. He came, and it was very, very pleasant and good.

She rested open palms on his ass, breathing heavily, waiting while he came back to himself.

Remembering the condom he slipped out and sat back on his knees, watching her face while she rested.

She lifted the blindfold up and off, placing it back in the drawer. She smiled again, and he thought to himself he could really get used to that smile. He felt a little bad at being a bit selfish about the whole thing and not helping her with her own satisfaction, and asked while already knowing the answer, "You didn't come?"

She did that smiling thing again and said, "That's okay, this was fun." Then she said, in a secretive, playful way:

"Next time."