The Hat Tric

"What's wrong with him?" asked Don, and Sarah spun to find her boyfriend slumped in his seat.

"You're not sick are you," she asked, furrowing her brows and resting her palm on Ryan's upper back.

"No, no, I'm OK," he said, sitting up and smiling weakly at Sarah and her father.

"You're flushed," she said, pulling off a tan leather glove and touching the back of her tiny hand to his forehead.

"Really Sarah, I'm fine," he said, reaching for her wrist and kissing the inside of it, "Just got a little too excited with that shot and the score."

Don harrumphed.

"Yeah well don't expect that kind of luck again tonight," he said.

"Hey, we never got any beer!" said Sarah, "I'm thirsty, and I feel like celebrating!"

"Celebrating what?" Ryan asked.

Maxine stopped digging in her purse and looked up, and Sarah flashed a broad white smile at her.

"Dad's agreed to help me buy the townhouse," she said, clapping her hands together, "We've narrowed it down to three, haven't we Dad."

Sarah tilted her head on Don's shoulder and he patted her knee.

"I just can't say no to my daughter," he said, and Linda the realtor gave a thumbs up behind his back.

"I'll go get the beer," said Maxine, standing and looping her large black leather bag over her shoulder, "I need to swing by security; I can't find my watch."

She frowned.

Don alarmed.

"The Rolex I bought you for Christmas?!"

"Yes," said Maxine, "It's insured though, isn't it?"

Don didn't answer. He bent over his bulkiness and looked between his legs at the floor, and Sarah and the realtor joined in the search. Ryan took advantage of the diversion and hand-jammed his Johnson back into his jeans and zipped up.

And just in time.

"Is it under here?" Sarah asked, grabbing the edge of the blanket and snapping it high and wide over Ryan's head, and Maxine inhaled sharply.

"Nope," said Ryan, standing and pulling his flannel jacket down over his hips, "I don't see it."

"Ryan, go with Maxine," ordered Don, "I'm worried about her taking another spell. And don't come back empty handed!"

"Yes sir," Ryan said, bending to kiss Sarah's cheek.

******

"There's security," Maxine said, pointing at them, "I'm going to ask about my watch. You wait here."

Ryan leaned against the concrete wall, crossed his arms, and considered Maxine's backside as it rolled in a figure 8 towards two young men in matching blue jackets. DAMN she was sexy, and that undercover jiffy lube - so frickin' hot! Too bad he couldn't tell anyone about it - that would make him more of a scoundrel than he already was. Sarah was so sweet; he was lucky a girl like her would take a second look at him. He was just a guy who worked the late-night shift at a bar in the roughest part of town, and although he had picked up a side job as a kids' Karate instructor at the Dojo, he was still not in her league. But Maxine? Now that was a horse of a different color. For whatever reason, she had deliberately stepped well beyond the bounds of proper behavior, and he had been the beneficiary. And maybe it was the forbidden nature of their non-relationship, or maybe it was the way she fought with herself before giving in to him - whatever it was - it was unfinished business.

Then a wave of her arm above the nameless crowd, and soon after, she was up on him.

"Follow me," she directed, as she swept by him, accompanied by one of the security guards. Ryan snapped to attention and strode behind them, breathing in the trail of her seductive scent now mixed up with the cheap Axe cologne on her new escort. They marched past the beer vendor and exited the concourse.

"Where are we going?" Ryan asked, as he struggled to keep up with them, having been washed offsides by the crowd around him, but there was no reply. Maxine had rounded a corner behind the guard and skipped up two flights of stairs. By the time Ryan figured out where they had disappeared to, he almost bumped into them.

"Here we are," said the guard, pointing to a door, "Executive suite 69," and then he unlocked it, smiled, and walked away.

"Surprise," said Maxine, as she gestured for Ryan to enter, enjoying his dumbfounded face.

"So this is how the high rollers watch the game," Ryan said, as he stepped into the room. He rotated a slow 360 degrees taking in the marble-topped walnut bar and luxurious leather-dressed furniture. "Nice."

"It's under renovation," Maxine said, pointing to a stepladder standing on a dropcloth against one of the unfinished walls, "but Jack told me we could use it and-"

"And you didn't bother mentioning that to Don," Ryan said, winking at her. "Hey there's snacks!" he added, bending to look inside the fridge, "and beer!"

"Must have been left behind by the last patrons," she responded, setting her purse on the bar, "Surprised the painters didn't drink it already."

Ryan chuckled then began to unzip his flannel jacket, "It's hot in here," he said, sliding it off his shoulders and tossing it on a chair, then removing his Capitals cap and studying himself in the mirror behind the bar - combing his tousled brown hair with his fingers.

"Yes it is," said Maxine, her brain processing his movements as if they were incrementing on a deck of cards she was flipping through. He was so athletic, so graceful, so confident. It refocused her attention on the task at hand, and she rushed to follow suit, removing her black leather jacket and resting it on his. Then she looped her arms around his neck, and arched into him.

"Kiss me," she demanded, and Ryan briefly brushed her lips with his, then picked up the remote and turned on the large screen TV. It was still intermission and the talking heads were pontificating about first period.

"Mmmmmmmm," she murmured, running a hand up under his long-sleeve tee, lifting it, then pecking at his nipples with her lips.

"Stop that!" he giggled, "It tickles!" and he attempted to twist away, but Maxine knew this was her best and last chance with him, and she would not be deterred. She got the button on his jeans unfastened and danced him backwards off kilter until his calves hit the couch and he fell into it. She followed - mounting him in a straddle.

"Whoa whoa whoa Mrs. Robinson," he said, raising his palms in a stop gesture, then gliding them down her soft warm arms, "I want you too baby, but you drained me under that blanket; I need some time to recharge. Let's watch these first period highlights."

Maxine ignored his plea and began a slow even hump against his groin, while Ryan struggled to see the TV screen beyond Don's Brady teeshirt. It was hanging from Maxine's shoulders like a wall-wide curtain, blocking the broadcast. He lifted her off his lap, then he spun her and smacked her ass hard, propelling her towards the bar.

"Go get us a beer, will ya?" he said, with a chuckle.

Maxine frowned; this was not going to plan, and time was not on their side. Regardless, she relented, and returned from the bar with his beer and a diet Pepsi on ice for herself. When she passed the cold bottle down to him, Ryan looked up to thank her, but when his eyes met hers, he felt her defeat, and his smile quickly faded. This beautiful cougar was begging for a boning, and after all his braggadocio, he was unable to represent.

"Come here," he said softly and stepped her between his legs, then wedged his fingers between her thighs and felt his hand heat with her steamy dewfall. When she widened her stance, he flipped his palm up and traced his middle finger back-and-forth along the seam of the black denim, tucked tight against her openings.

"I think we need to get these wet clothes off of you, Mrs. Robinson. Don't you agree?" He winked. "Say, yes Sensei, I agree."

He pressed up harder into her camel toe, and she placed her palms on his shoulders and rocked her hips in rhythm with his rubbing.

"Yes Sensei, I agree," she said, resurrecting her enthusiasm.

Ryan smiled and bent to help her off with her booties, then unzipped her jeans and peeled them down her slender thighs and off her feet. When his fingernails swept up the back of her bare legs and he inched her panties down, it shivered her timbers.

"Are you cold, Mrs. Robinson?" he asked, grinning up at her, but he knew she wasn't. She raised the gynormous jersey up to her navel and tied it in a knot around her slim waist.

And there he was - face to her flame-red foliage.

"Mmmmmm," he hummed, as he traced the tip of his nose through her dense patch, breathing in her bouquet. He steered her closer by the back of her thighs and opened his mouth wide to cover her mound, then found her cleft, and invaded it with the pencil sharp tip of his tongue. Very soon Maxine was mineral hard, and not surprisingly, she began to swoon. Ryan stood to steady her, cupping and caressing her entrance as he vampired her neck, peering up through his long dark lashes to catch an intermittent glimpse of the Caps and the Bolts as they spilled out onto the ice.

ANNOUNCER: And we're just moments from the start of the second period between the Tampa Bay Lightning and the Washington Capitals here in Amalie Arena.

Maxine was heating up faster than a junkie's spoon, wrapping a leg around Ryan's calf, and pussy-petting up against him. He wanted desperately to satisfy her, but the game was competing for his attention, and his little buddy was still as limp as a cooked spaghetti noodle.

"Lie back on the ottoman," he said, and Maxine sat down on the edge of it and reclined. "And take that damn teeshirt off!" he added, bending to kiss her knotted nipples as she arched back and pulled the shirt over her head. And then she was still, and Ryan gazed down at her pale naked form posed below him. Her body showed signs of living a full life. There was a scar, presumably from a c-section, just above her pubic bone; he didn't know she'd had any children - she'd never spoken of it. But her imperfections only served to make her more real in this surreal situation, and that yin and yang caused him to stir.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, and that brought him back into the moment. Abruptly he inhaled and wiped his mouth - he'd been salivating.

"No, Mrs. Robinson," he said, as he got down on his knees and put her bare legs over his shoulders, "Everything is perfect," and he dove back in to face her nation, and with an unobstructed view of the game.

"Oh my God," she moaned, as he French kissed her tender muff lips, "It's been so long."

"Ol' Don not up to going down?" Ryan asked, easing his index finger deep into her Venus Fly Trap, and gerrymandering her g-spot.

"He . . . he . . . can't now," she sputtered, but Don hadn't performed this vital marital obligation for years, not because it was impossible, but because it was too much work, and it had never been his cup of tea.

Ryan snickered.

"Yeah well, show me a man who won't go down on his wife, and I'll show you a man who can take her away."

And back downtown he traveled, Maxine's desperation from Don's deficiency amplifying Ryan's desire to demonstrate his skill. Maxine had never been with anyone so eager to dine at the Y. She blossomed and glistened, hardened and ached, and throbbed against his tongue like a beating heart after a 10k race.

Then through labored breathing, she fought to rise to her elbows.

"Do you have a condom?" she asked.

He did, but at that moment, it would have been as useful as a lawnmower.

"Ssssshh baby," he said, and pressed her down onto her back, then stretched her engorged lips wide with his thumb and forefinger and ran them up and down her labia - a move he'd seen on a porn site.

"How's that feel, Mrs. Robinson?" he asked, glancing up at the screen. Tampa Bay had 15 seconds left on a Power Play but were struggling to get the puck out of their own end zone. "Ol' Don ever massage you like this?"

But it was a rhetorical question, so he didn't wait for an answer. He got his tongue on her stony clit, swirling, sucking, and flicking, as she pleaded for an old fashioned fuck.

"Ryan PLEASE!" she begged. She put her feet on his shoulders, flexed her hips up into his face, and pulled his hair.

Ryan escalated his assault, adding his right hand to the mix, penetrating her pussy with his index and middle fingers and picking the lock on her backdoor with the tip of his ring finger. The stretching and licking and finger fucking and tinkleflower teasing provoked the epileptic response expected, but Maxine burned like no other, and his chin was dripping with her hot butterscotch.

"Ryan, I want to cum," she said, and Ryan came up for air, squeezed behind her knees, and pressed them back to her ears, completely exposing her to him.

"My God Maxine," he exhaled, as his eyes, half-lidded, drank in her red velvet interior, "You have the most luscious, ripe pussy I've ever had the pleasure of eating, then he lowered once more and licked her ass to clit and back, stopping to tongue fuck her entrance.

"Take me!" Maxine said, as she looped her arms under her legs and spread even wider so Ryan was free to manhandle her. He took full advantage, pressing his thumb into the floor of her pussy and driving his middle finger deep into her ass, as if preparing to lift her like a six-pack.

"HARDER!" she cried, twerking against his incursion, "Suck my clit! DO ME ROUGH!!!"

"Do me rough?" Ryan chuckled to himself, surprised at Maxine's unexpected delivery. But he did as she commanded, pinching her Cape Horn between his lips and tugging hard on it, while plundering her nook and cranny.

"Yes, yes, yes," she mewed, as she dragged her big floppy tits up and down and around her torso by the nipples, "I'm almost there! Come on MOTHERFUCKER - make me CUM!"

Ryan startled, stopped, and looked up.

"That's step-motherfucker," he said, and then he finished her off.

It was the wildest most untamed and uninhibited expression of female climax he'd ever seen - hissing and howling, grunting and growling, her body reddening outwards from the center of her burning bush until she looked to be engulfed in fever. Then she let loose with an almost painful cry, and she erupted, gushing liquid magma like a repressed volcano. Finally, she exhaled a sigh, as all the muscles in her body gave way and she unfolded over the edges of the ottoman and succumbed to unconsciousness.

Ryan wiped Maxine's honeyed nectar from his mouth, then stood and took a long cool draw of his beer while he contemplated what he had just facilitated; it was nothing short of amazing - SHE was amazing, and her husband was a fucking idiot. If he couldn't or wouldn't satisfy his wife, he should be paying Ryan to do it for him. Who knows, maybe ol' Don would like to watch. Hehehehehe.

Ryan attempted to help Maxine to her feet, but she was dead weight, so he walked to the bar, picked up the remote, and raised the volume - the second period was well underway. A few minutes later he heard a thud, and turned to see Maxine on the floor crawling on her hands and knees over to her underwear. Her big full moon of an ass was reminiscent of a white-tailed doe during hunting season; it made him smile, but more importantly, it made his cock twitch. She stumbled her way to standing and began the unusually difficult task of dressing herself.

"WOW! Mrs. Robinson!" Ryan said, with a chuckle, as he began to assist her, "You were on fire!"

Maxine put her arms around his neck and kissed him as he pulled her panties up.

"Mmmmmmmm,"she moaned, savoring the taste of the pussy-infused beer on him, "That was mind-blowing."

"And speaking of blowing,"Ryan said, and he took her hand and positioned her palm against his zipper.

"We don't have time," she said, furrowing her forehead, then looking at her empty wrist where her watch used to be.

"We'll make time," he said, pushing down on her bare shoulders to coax her back onto the ottoman, and giving himself a perfect view of the game over her tangled red tresses, "and after what you just showed me, it won't take long to get me there."

Ryan rushed to get his jeans and briefs down around his upper thighs, and before Maxine could say, "Well OK I guess," his cock launched like a Jack-in-the-Box and slapped her chin.

"Open wide," he said, redirecting himself between her lips, and she began to swirl her tentative tongue around his big blue tip. He was fully erect now and still sticky from the first period Jackson Pollocking.

"Do you know how many times I've sneaked a peek down your dress at those big beautiful tits while you sipped on my gin and tonics?" he asked, as he pressed himself a little farther forward with each hip contraction, "And now here we are and there is no dress, and your lips are around my cock about to drink my Penis Colada."

Ryan laughed at his choice of words, then moved his right hand to the back of her head.

"Take me all the way," he said, gently flexing down her throat.

She gagged and coughed him out.

"I can't."

ANNOUNCER: And there's another call against Washington.

"That's BULLSHIT!" Ryan yelled at the TV, but it was the high sticking between his legs that won the contest for his concentration. Maxine was beating his meat in meter with her sucking - sliding him skin over skin with just enough pressure to entice another burning infusion of blood - blue diamond hardening him. Her other hand was diddling his balls, discharging a buzz of electricity each time the staccato tips of her long red nails made contact with his bumhole.

"GodDAMN Mrs. Robinson, you suck cock like an 80-dollar whore."

Maxine stopped and peered up at him - her face a contorted sad confusion. Ryan knelt in front of her and rested his forearms on her bare thighs.

"I'm sorry Roxy," he said, "Did I hurt your feelings?"

"Is that how you think of me? As a whore?" she asked, her eyes beginning to well up, "I guess I fit the description well enough."

"No, no, no," he said, "It's - I don't know - guys just say things like that in times like this - slut, whore, cunt - it doesn't mean anything - it's just dirty talk."

"Dirty talk," she said, nodding introspectively, "Well I don't like it."

"You called me a motherfucker!" Ryan laughed, then stood and tapped her nose with his knob, prompting Maxine to stifle a grin.

"OK, how about wifey?" he asked, with a wry smile, as he trailed his tip back and forth along her lips, coloring the red lipstick outside the lines.

"And what do you want from wifey?" she asked, as she imagined a life with Ryan in her bed every night instead of ol' Don.

"I want you to take every inch of me."

"What if I can't?" she asked, licking him from base to tip then bulging him in and out of her cheek.

He petted her head, "Go all the way down on me baby."

But despite a valiant effort, Maxine could only take three quarters of Ryan's Rodzilla before her gag reflex refused him.

"I can't," she said.

"Try again - come on sweet wifey," he said, sweeping her red hair up from her shoulders into his fist and pulling her towards him by the back of her neck, "Take a deep breath and hold it, that's it, relax your throat, now exhale slowly and slide me back."

And desperate to feel that same satisfaction she had when she controlled his lever of lust under the blanket, Maxine managed to take his tip along the roof of her mouth to her tonsils and just beyond.

"Fuck yeah baby," Ryan moaned, as he immersed himself in the moment and in her oral cavity, but 3 deep-throat thrusts later, she coughed him out.

"Sit down," she said, pushing him onto the couch, anxious to try something different, "I'm going to titty fuck you."

"Well listen to that dirty mouth on my little wifey," Ryan laughed, pulling his pants down to his ankles, and kicking them off one leg, as he watched Maxine sashay to the bar, his eyes bouncing from the game to her petite, mature frame, clad only in the cotton bikini briefs. She retrieved the aloe vera and drizzled the slick green cream between her twin peaks.