All names and characters contained herein are fictitious and do not intentionally relate to any person, either living or dead. This story is a work of fiction, a fantasy -- so read it with a grain of salt and an open mind. All characters are at least 18 years of age. Voting and feedback is greatly appreciated, especially positive feedback and frequent "fives".
As a traveling tech rep for a large fortune 500 company I visit lots of exciting and exotic cities. Last week while in Florida I was the fortunate recipient of a new, unusual experience.
My tech call ended earlier than expected, with the customer extremely happy with my efforts. To celebrate my success, I went back to my beachfront hotel room and changed into some comfortable, loose-fitting, light cotton shorts (sans underwear – I'm a freeballer), an oversized World of Warcraft Horde T-shirt, and flip flops.
I cruised down the main beachfront drag, doing a little window-shopping and babe ogling. The dress code seemed to be part high-end tourist garb and part bikinis and hoochie-mama shorts. As I strolled along, the women seemed to get hotter and hotter and the bikinis skimpier and skimpier. At one point a girl in front of me, who couldn't have been much older than 18, bent over to pick something up and flashed me a white thong under her very short denim mini skirt.
As she straightened up, she flashed me a brilliant smile and giggled. I groaned and felt myself harden. Not good. If you've ever gone commando in light cotton shorts, you know how noticeable hard-ons can be.
Seeing an outdoor café on the corner ahead, I slipped under the awning and sat down at a table in the corner, against a wall, but with a nice view of the street and pedestrian traffic.
The restaurant was pretty upscale, with long, heavy table cloths that dragged the cobblestone floor. The table was a four-top, but seeing as the patio was only half full, I didn't think the server would mind.
A pretty brunette waitress flounced up and took my order -- calamari and a bottle of Stella Artois European ale.
Kicking back, sipping my beer, I eavesdropped on conversations around me,
"...Vera Bradley is sooo gauche. I can't imagine why people pay those prices..."
"...see those tits? Ohmigod...they can't be real..."
"...don't let Valerie find out about us...if she does, she'll rip me a new..."
"...at that shopping cart over there...you'd think the restaurant would run those derelicts off..."
A few stores down, on the corner, sat an old dilapidated, rusted Kroger shopping cart. Piled inside it were what appeared to be someone's worldly possessions. From where I sat I could see several coats, a few pair of old shoes, a milk crate loaded with crushed cola and beer cans, and duct-taped to the side of it was a large, tattered golf umbrella.
The "derelict" was nowhere to be seen.
As the people gabbed incessantly, I stretched my legs out under the table and crossed my arms over my chest. Strangely, I felt a light fluttering and a warm wind wafted over my upper thighs.
I slowly reached down and lifted the table cloth and peered under into the darkness. Two large, red-rimmed brown eyes owlishly peered out at me. Her face was small and elfin shaped, with a small pert nose and cute slightly outturned ears.
She was very tan, almost to the point of being leathery, and her sun-blonde hair was tied back in a tight pony tail, with wisps and strands of hair that had come loose framing her face like a halo.
A grease stain was smeared across her right cheek and her small dirt-stained hands shook as she lightly clutched my thighs. She looked to be about in her mid 40's, which in homeless person years meant she was probably about twenty years old.
"Hungry..." she rasped quietly, and licked her parched lips.
Her shaky hands so near my groin caused the stirring to begin again, and I watched aghast as my traitorous cock began to harden.
She looked down at the tent, gulped, and looked back up at me.
"Thirsty..." she whispered imploringly, her huge eyes tearing up.
Her breath wafted across my thighs again, and my seven inch member reached its full length, trying to burst out of the tops of my cotton shorts.
Abruptly, the waitress appeared at my table with the plate of calamari and asked me if everything was okay.
I dropped the table cloth and attempted to compose myself.
"Uh, sure...everything's great. Um, could I get another beer please?"
