Color Coordination

I woke this morning a little late crawled out of bed, looked down on my sleeping baby in the crib next to my bed and threw on one of my hubby's NFL replica jerseys. The mornings have finally had a chill about them after a long 23 straight days with above 90 degree heat. It felt divine, cool air seeping through the holes in the jersey, and on my bare skin underneath.

I waved sleepily to the my neighbor from across the street and pretended that he wasn't looking at my legs and ass as I pranced away towards the door. It gave me a slight tinge to think that if he knew that I was wear nothing but the jersey.... but today was a busy day. No time for indulgences. I showered quickly, opting to use a razor instead of cream. It is quicker but I hate the feel of the razor on my skin. But today I have a lot to do and it is quicker that way.

I dry and moisturize. I consider my wardrobe choice for the day and nothing leaps out at me. I hate days like this. Nothing too dressy but nice enough to be seen by lots of strangers. I volunteered for an event that is casual dress but I'm never all that casual or to casual. No in between. It didn't jump out at me but it did jump up. I recalled tossing it on the floor. The jersey.

I had my basis for coordinating now. Satin navy bra and lace trimmed satin navy panties. I am torn though. White shorts, navy shorts or as close as I have to burnt orange.... a skirt that might be a touch short. As I look at my shoes I know the answer almost immediately. The navy high heels cry out to me. Orange skirt it was.

My make up choice is slightly daring. Blue liner with a thin line of metallic copper shadow. It is subtle yet bold. And just a little bit trampy. Just the way I like it.

I kiss my babies goodbye and give the sitter the usual instructions. She looks me up and down when she thinks I'm not looking. She has seen me in this mode before and she smiles to herself when she inquires if I anticipate being late. I tell her you never know with these volunteer things. Her round about question makes me think to call the hubby see if he has lunch plans. I'm forced a voice mail.

There is a lot of organizing and checking of items that come in. The floor is filling up fast. I hear my cell notify me that there is a text message. "Spicy Pickle?" is all it reads. "Monaco 1:30" is my reply. An old friend laughs noticing my outfit. "Oh are you matching today?" I know what what her query really is. I look around to check too see if anyone is looking. I lift the jersey and pull down the side of my skirt to show her the navy lace on my hip. She laughs a little loud and smiles as I tell her, "Of course."

I make sure that someone has covered for me and I go out for my lunch date. I get there and don't see his car. I order our sandwiches and then head off to the ladies room. I find the restroom empty as I had hoped. I found a stall and sat down without locking the stall door. I waited. I touched my slightly damp panties lightly with my fingers, then rubbed a little harder. I brought my fingers to my nose to inhale the slight scent of my engorged sex. I'm starting to get tired of waiting.

But I don't have to wait long. I hear the door open and before I can see the new occupant from under the wall the door opens and I'm eye level with a hard cock. I'm eager to start sucking it... just to much so. I gag as it hits the back of my throat as his legs now straddle me while I sit on the toilet. "Easy." He growls in a low voice.

Forget easy. I'm horny and we haven't done anything fun in so long. I know his first will be quick. My tongue works feverishly and I push the limit of my throat that is not yet open to him. I gag here and there as he stifles low moans I know are are trapped in his throat the same way his cock is trying to enter mine. I can feel his orgasm building and I seal my lips around the head of his cock as he starts to cum. We hear the door swings open while my mouth is being filled with his molten jets of semen, I have no choice but to swallow noisily.

There is hesitation from the third occupant but just for an instant. She picks the stall next to ours and proceeds to pee. My stall mate doesn't let this bother him, in fact he takes advantage of the situation and slows rocks back and froth in and out of my mouth. Smaller spurts of semen come more slowly and he starts to get more flaccid. But the woman next to us is taking her time. This excites him.... erm us, and I can feel him getting hard again as he slowly fucks my mouth. My nipples are now aching to be touched, and I obligate one then the other all while I massage my clit. She seems to be there for ages and once again I have a hard cock in my mouth.

She finally gets up flushes and then slowly, methodically washes her hands. I wish she would hurry because I'm aching to have a cock in something other than my mouth.... and my jaw is getting sore. Maybe she wants to watch... but I'm not that kind of girl. Finally she's done and the now abusive cock is pulled from my mouth. He helps me to my feet, only to pull me out of the stall and bend me over the sink. I work my jaw in the mirror and spy him pulling up my skirt and yanking down my panties. "Oh you match!" he noticed that I paid homage to his favorite team.

Without waiting for a reply his finger runs delicately up my wet slit, sending shivers up my spine. Not even that would last for long because his finger was followed by his cock. I try to bite off a squeal that must have sounded to him like a plead to fuck me hard. Because that is what he does. Hard and deep. He leans over me, his familiar weight pressing down on me. He bites my ear and whispers to me, "She was finger fucking herself to me fucking your mouth. Could you hear her moan?" I couldn't. But the thought of it. The thought that another woman was getting off because he.... "That's right baby moan at the thought of that chick cumming to me fucking your face."

Didn't realize I was moaning. I was quivering too. It consumed me from deep in my belly and I involuntarily started grinding against his pounding hips. And before I know it the quiver becomes quaking. I'm shaking like a leaf. "Touch my cock!" he almost begs. I reach between my legs and my fingers feel his slick cock going in and out of me. It is intoxicating. It is too much for him which is the point. He cums again. Forcing himself as deep as he can get. He cums in me all over again.

I can barely get the words out but I do. "Lick me." It is an order more than a request. His cock is quickly replaced by his tongue. He holds my hips to keep me from squirming and licks me clean. But again quickly. It is a public restroom after all. We adjust our clothes and walk out together. No use in trying to hide it right?

The woman behind the counter offers me 2 bags with "Here is your meal, ma'am."

I can feel my cheeks flush, but try to get through it. "Thank you." Is all I can muster.

"Please come again..." her voice trails off as she hears what she said. My husband barks a short laugh at the unintentional slip. She turns red and at this point my cheeks are on fire, and suspect I'm redder than she. "Have a good afternoon." Came the weak correction.

"Thank you," my voice cracks a little, "you too." I finish just as weakly. When we get outside I slap his arm. He laughs and kisses me, his tongue forces its way passed my lips as the woman stared at us open mouthed. With a quick exchange of 'Love you' and see you laters we went our separate ways. I looked at the clock and indeed the sitter was right. I would run a little late...