It had been an epic getaway for just the two of us: Friday night, all day Saturday and deep into Sunday afternoon. It was amazing, a chance to connect on a level that most people won't figure out until they're living together, and we did it without all that risky commitment stuff.
What did I discover?
That I was probably going to get burned by this chick in the same way I burned her ex... but that still didn't scare me away from a potential commitment. Hanging out with her was so much fucking fun that I didn't want it to end.
Forty-eight hours at the beach, however, was enough to put sand in spots that might never be found. As the shadows started getting longer, we packed it up and headed back to civilization.
The sun was mostly at our backs for the ride home, but there was still enough light for her to work on her tan in the topless hummer.
She gave me flashes -- and for short stretches, she was topless herself, giving a couple of truckers the same jolt.
Good God, this chick.
Suddenly, I wanted to see her do this same thing -- this same ride home-- with a pair of sculpted DDs. That was one of her beach resolutions: a boob job. I wasn't encouraging it, but I couldn't discourage it, either. A person has to do what feels right for themself. DDs on her size-6 frame? That could be interesting. Would she go through with it?
I shook my head. Too much to hope for.
It was a drive, Ventura all the way back to Glendale, but with her feet propped up, it gave enough time for the wind to blow the sand from between her toes.
We parked out in front of her apartment and she invited me in. It was the first time I could actually take in some details. Her place was decorated with dozens of paintings and photographs.
I pointed at the row of vaguely florally-themed water-colors. "Art collector?"
She snorted as she undressed. "I wish. That's all my stuff."
I looked again. She wasn't kidding about that whole artist thing. "You're amazing."
She rolled her eyes. "Sometimes, I want to sell my stuff, but who would buy it? Other times... I don't want to sell any of it. It's like I've finally figured out who I am in blues and greens."
I studied the paintings that much harder. No idea what I was looking at, but it was pretty.
"I know you'd have to put dirty clothes back on, but do you..." She did that little sliding-the-fingers-under-the-butt-cheeks thing again. "Do you want to join me in the shower?"
Shorts and shirt off, flip flops kicked across the room, naked in 1.8 seconds. New record, ladies and gentlemen.
She led me through her bedroom and I had a chance to see her pile of 5k promotional shirts. Okay, that explains the bod. Especially the legs.
My hand in hers, I watched her back as she walked. Mix of round, feminine muscle and just a touch of luscious to soften it. No cellulite, she had an ass fit for a Nike ad. Or a porno.
We soaped each other up, and rinsed each other off. I had her in my arms, just enjoying the hot water, when I leaned to whisper in her ear.
"You gotta work. I gotta work. I hate having to share you with work..."
She got a little squirmy as her nipples got hard.
Oh, hot button there. "Any ex boyfriends at work?"
"Promise you won't be mad?"
"I don't promise a thing except the grudge-fuck you probably deserve."
"Four," she explained. "Four boyfriends."
It took a second to parse what she was saying. "Boyfriend" had a very specific definition for her. So... she'd had actual sex with four guys at work?! I was starting to get hard. I pressed my dick into her lower back, feeling her slippery skin against me. Shot in the dark: "Besides those four, how many more have you gone down on?"
"Six."
"Jesus Christ! You've done ten guys at work?!" I didn't mean it to sound as alarmed as it did, but my dick was instantly poking in her back. I know she felt how hard I was, and she didn't seem too concerned with accidental panic. I played it cool with another question: "Do they know about each other?"
"Yes. Eight of the ten, at least," she nodded. "Guys talk."
"Wow. I'm gonna bet that 'office slut' fantasies are a whole category of porn. Tell me your sluttiest story from work."
"I'll tell you if you're inside m--"
She screamed a little when I shoved it right into that already-soaking-wet pussy.
"I've got two stories..." She doubled over, gasping. "One is sluttier... because it's..."
"What?"
"...Ongoing."
I had a death grip on her hips. Pretty sure I was going to fuck the breath from her. "Quit... stalling... Slut..."
"It's one of the 'other two'..." she explained. Her nipples were stiffer than I'd ever seen. "Okay: I suck at being an accountant, so on my Quarterly Reviews, I suck my Department Manager's dick."
"Holy shit, really?" My dick surged, sudden steel inside her, but it was at the edge of going cotton-candy. This was so profoundly wrong. "...Ongoing?"
"I boost my performance scores every three months..."
"But has he done this..." I made my point through heavy thrusting. "...To you?"
"Nooo..." she panted.
"Too bad, he's missing out."
She giggled and bit her lip. "The other eight know... Well, I guess everybody knows, because I still have a job."
"You're that bad?
She looked over her shoulder at me. "I don't consider it cheating because I'm doing it to save my job."
"Do you enjoy it? Giving your manager head?"
"Don't hate me..."
She enjoyed it, at least, so the "steel" was winning. "If you haven't reported him to HR, he counts as a recurring cheat."
"Okay..." She nodded, seeming to agree. Her words were in time with my thrusts: "So... you... still... like... me?"
"Like you? Lizzy, I'm starting to love you! You're amazing!"
"I'm amazing..." She dropped her head in the shower stream, a hint of relief crossing her face. "...When I've got a dick in me."
