A Walk on the Wild Side
I was damn lonely and horny, and the pickings were mighty slim in Bear Creek.
Maybe that's why I kept having dreams about the woman with water balloon jugs that I had watched Lenny pound in Southern California. Or maybe I'm carrying around some lesbo genes that were itching to be unleashed.
In my dreams, the water balloon lady shows up in Bear Creek and one thing leads to another. I get my hands on her big tits and finally find out what they feel like. They're soft and squishy, sliding around in my hands as I try to get a firm grip. It really is like trying to get a firm grip on a water balloon. I squeeze one part and the soft flesh shifts in another direction. I move my hand over there for a squeeze and the flesh shifts back. The only way I can get a good hold is to grab a tit with both hands.
She's real proud of her boobs and loves having me maul them. Her nipples aren't as big as mine, but they are just as sensitive. We take turns pulling and twisting each other's nipples while we kiss.
Then we lie end to end and please each other at the same time. I enjoy making her cum as much as I enjoy having her making me cum.
I usually woke up in the middle of my dream, hot and sweaty with both hands on my crotch. What the hell, I'd finish what my dream started. I gotta admit that it was as satisfying as any dream I ever had about having sex with a guy.
I think that it was because of these dreams that I started checking out the women in Bear Creek. There weren't a lot of fish in that pond either. Some cute ones who had boyfriends, some beaten down ones who had kids. The women who might be gay or bi were generally real skinny, real fat, or real ugly. Lenny used to say that lesbos went over to the dark side because no guy would have them. That's obviously a bunch of BS since I'm pretty cute and I was ready to take a walk on the wild side. Still, Lenny seemed to have a point judging from what I saw in Bear Creek.
And then I found a good-looking one, or maybe she found me. I was in the hardware store looking to buy some screws when I notice a large chested woman with fiery red hair and a butch haircut. Seriously, is there anything more dangerous than a redheaded woman? She was wearing faded jeans and a cowboy shirt and looking at a clipboard, not paying any attention to me.
Then suddenly she said, "Looking for something?" I don't remember her working at the store, but I said, "Yeah, 2-inch, #12 brass, Phillips wood flatheads."
She said, "They're out of those."
I was wondering "What the?" when she explained that she's the regional distributor for Hillman and that's one of the screws she's resupplying.
I was impressed.
She told me to close my mouth before something flew in, and I saw that she's more used to giving orders than taking them. I kept staring and then she stared back at me.
I felt that tingling between my legs that tells me I'm interested. She looked at my chest and says, "I see you don't believe in bras either." I wasn't wearing a see-through blouse, but she could tell from my pokey boysenberries that my nipples weren't being flattened by a bra.
I said, "Yeah, I'm not big enough to need one."
She laughed loud like a guy and said, "I'm plenty big enough. I just don't believe in them. Boob muscles get flabby real fast if they don't get exercised."
I stared at her chest. I didn't see any nipples and her big titties were riding firm and high like she's wearing a bra. She said, "You don't believe it, I'll show you when I get done here." Damn, she was brazen.
I nodded and said, "I'll be at Mary Ellen's." May Ellen's is a local diner where you can get a pretty good cup of coffee and hang around as long as you want, reading newspapers or chatting with locals. I didn't want to meet her at a bar. That was a little too aggressive. Plus if I was hanging around a bar, some married guys and other assorted scumbags would hit on me.
She said, "Later," and goes back to her clipboard.
I headed over to Marry Ellen's, got a blueberry muffin and a coffee, and settled in at a corner table with some newspapers, reading about what's going on outside Bear Creek. Same old shit. Crooked politicians, airplane crashes, trouble in the Mideast.
After about an hour, she showed up. No clipboard, but walking strong like she had somewhere to go and something to do. She pulled up a chair and sat on it cowboy style with the back of the chair facing me.
She said, "Hey."
I said, "Hey" back and we looked at each other real close, neither one blinking. She had thin lips, green eyes, and fiery red hair. I knew I was in the mood because my first thought was whether her red hair is real and that I was going to find out soon enough.
She said, "Yeah, my red hair is all natural, just like the rest of me." Damn, she's a mind reader too. Well, no point in pretending that I wasn't interested. I just smiled and she smiled back.
It was getting to be dinner time, so I ordered a Denver omelette and she had chicken-fried steak which, if you don't know, is a cheap piece of meat smothered with eggs and flour and fried in a pan.
She'd grown up wanting to work construction, building houses and stuff, but the construction guys didn't trust her. Now the laughs on them, because she made more money supplying nails than they made hammering them. She also figured that she was going to keep moving up the corporate ladder, leaving the nail pounders even further behind.
She traveled all over Colorado and she told me some crazy stories about the people who choose to live in this wacky state. Guys with hardware stores inside fallout shelters. Guys who sell unregistered guns in the basement of their store. Construction firms that launder drug money. Handymen who pay cash and are paid in cash, doing remodeling jobs while they were collecting unemployment. She's seen it all.
She let me know that she had never married and I let her know that I hadn't either, though I didn't spoil the mood by mentioning all the men I'd had sex with.
I told her about growing up in Bear Creek, moving to Southern California, and being disappointed in what I found there. Now, I was back in Bear Creek, still not knowing what I was going to do with myself.
After dinner we headed over to the motel where she was saying. I wasn't surprised that she was driving a black F-150 diesel. I hopped into my 150 and followed her. There were two parking spots in front of her room and there we were, our two 150s snuggled side by side, just like their drivers were soon to be.
We walked into her room and there's no question what we're there for. She closed the door and started kissing me.
After we broke the kiss, she said, "Oh yeah, you wanted to know if I'm wearing a bra. She unbuttoned her cowboy shirt and pulled it open with both hands. There they were in all their glory.
My mouth must have dropped open because she said, "You catching flies again?" Then she took off her shirt, put her hands on her hips, and said, "Go ahead, darling. You know you want to."
I moved closer and tentatively touched her magnificent breasts with my trembling fingers. They were what I had always wanted. Full, ripe, perfectly symmetrical, seemingly defying gravity. Torpedo tits.
They didn't feel at all like I expected. Instead of being squishy water balloons, they felt more like muscle—firm and resilient, powerful. I was thinking she could probably flex them the way you flex your arm muscles. She must have read my mind again because she lifted her arms and flexed her arm muscles. Her breasts rose even higher, more gloriously.
I looked up and she was watching my face to gauge my reaction. It was easy to gauge. She said proudly, "I told you so. Enjoy."
It was ironic. Her breasts were so spectacularly powerful, yet I touched them so softly, so lovingly. I caressed the sides of her breasts, letting my fingers glide slowly and gently over her beautiful skin. I cupped her breasts with my hands, lifting them gently, feeling their weight.
Her nipples were small little nubs. I touched them softly with my finger tips and flicked them with my tongue. They hardened, but they were still small, a striking contrast to her spectacularly full breasts.
I squeezed both breasts with my hands and kneaded them like cookie dough. She smiled, but I couldn't tell if it was because she liked having her breasts squeezed or because she liked watching me be amazed by them.
She said, "I showed you mine. Let me see yours." I was embarrassed, but I did what I was told. I pulled my shirt over head and my tits bounced free, small but firm. My boysenberries perked up under her hard gaze. I looked down and my tits seemed so small compared to hers, but she smiled and there was a twinkle in her eyes. She clearly liked something she saw. Maybe it was just the fact that she had found a cute girl who was eager to disrobe for her. Maybe it was because my swelling nipples told her how turned on I was.
She moved closer and squeezed my nipples hard. When I didn't flinch, she squeezed them even harder. My legs were wobbly, but I didn't say anything. I wanted to show her that I was as tough as she was. I put my hands on my hips and stared at her green eyes as she tightened her grip. I'll be damned if I was going to be intimidated. I let her pinch all she wanted.
She knew she was turning me on, so she kept squeezing hard and rolling my nipples between her thumb and fingers. My legs were getting weaker and my crotch was getting wetter and starting to twitch, but I just kept smiling and staring at her beautiful green eyes.
Finally, she let go of my throbbing nipples and said, "Pants, too." I slipped out of my jeans and she did too.
Now we stood facing each other, completely naked. Her red hair was definitely real. Her crotch was fiery red. She ran a finger through her crotch and licked it.