When I was eighteen, around nineteen ninety six, I started going to this cafe called 'More Joe.' The owner wasn't named Joe, which always tickled me, he was a tall red haired guy named Pete. He had this long red hair that came down to his shoulders, and I loved it when he wore it loose, but it was usually in a ponytail. He had these round glasses that gave him a bit of a hippie look, and wore loose shirts that only added to it. I'd catch glimpses of his chest when he wore something with buttons because he'd leave half of them undone. He had the muscles of someone who spent a lot of time outdoors, and no chest hair. I'd dream of running my hand over those muscles, and exploring further down.
Back then he had a girlfriend who barely spoke, was only a couple years younger than him, about twenty seven, but she was so gorgeous. An up class girl who dressed to match him in new looking hippie clothing half the time, and like a business vamp the rest of the time. I envied her bumping hips and long blonde hair. I don't know how many times I watched them kiss before she had to go, I even caught them fooling around in the back once when I took a trip to the bathroom.
When I went in, I noticed them in the back full-on necking, his hand was down the back of her skirt, and his round glasses were dangling from her fingers. Like I said; I was eighteen then, so there was something sweet about seeing people around thirty (so old to me back then!) getting super hot and heavy in the middle of the day. The excitement of it tickled me as I did my business in the bathroom and washed my hands.
Things must have escalated in those few minutes, because I noticed the narrow backroom door was almost completely closed. I could hear her; practically panting between strangled groans. I had to satisfy my curiosity. I'm a small woman, just over five feet, and I knew how to step lightly, so I crept to the door in time to hear her quietly groan; "Oh, Pete!"
My heart was pounding so heard I'm surprised they couldn't hear it as I peeped through the crack in the doorway and saw something that lit a fire in me. Rita was sitting on boxes of cups with her legs spread wide open. Her long white skirt was up around her waist, her satin g-string hung off one ankle. Her hands were crushing cardboard, eyes were squeezed shut, and she bit her bottom lip, stopping all but the sounds of heavy breathing and the occasional whimper.
I could just see between her thighs, where Pete was busy at work on her absolutely bald pussy. I've always been a redhead, so I kept my bush, but seeing that pink slit spread open as he worked inside her with two fingers was an eye opener. I'd never seen a shaved pussy before, or someone else getting fingered, so I was getting a hot education. She looked so neat and clean down there, and he was obviously enjoying his work.
I was frozen there, watching as he looked at her, slowly lowering his mouth to her sex. He kissed the bald mound lingeringly. He dragged the tip of his tongue around her outer lips, I could hear him leaving little kisses along the way too. She finally lost patience. "Stop teasing me!" she breathed hoarsely.
He took the top half of her intimate lips into his mouth then, I heard the slurp and the pop as he gave her what she wanted for only a moment before pulling away, stretching her labia just a little, and she squealed. She actually squealed. Her chest rose and fell quickly, her mouth hung open, with a desperate, accusing look. "I have to go to work! Finish me off or I'll be insane all day."
Pete's middle fingers pressed inside her one more time and I could see that he was doing something inside her as his mouth descended, licking her firmly, slowly. I remember thinking that I'd have to go buy fresh panties, I was practically dripping as I watched the best (and only), peepshow I'd ever seen. I wanted to unbutton my jeans and jam my hand down there so I could climax with Rita.
That poor woman's lip suffered more abuse as she bit it, trying to keep quiet as Pete's mouth and
