Gulf Coast Condo

Jennifer was primping in the visor mirror as we pulled out onto Oceanside and headed for Captain Morgan's, her favorite 'dancehall', as she called it. Jenny was a fabulous dancer. Had been all her life from ballet, cheerleader, to pole dancing in San Diego at the Body Shop where I found her.

"Ouuu-la-la," she chortled, putting her lipstick away and settling back.

She was married to a drunk deadbeat at the time, and was ripe for a new life. It's an old story and she's not the first, or the last, to think that the 'big man on campus' would continue to be a star in life. Her ex, Sam was a pretty good athlete at Cal State and 'coulda been contender?'

"You can say that again," I agreed

But, football is a chancy business and after blowing out his knee, his football career was over, but not before Jennifer had married him, thinking that the best was yet to come. What neither of them realized at the time was that without football, Sam had no future. He was the first to know it, so he made a career move by signing on with Jack Daniels. The boy has good taste.

"Is it your turn or mine?" She reached into the tray and daintily plucked out the roach.

I have paid for 'rehab' for Sam a couple times, and probably will again. Jenny can get me to do anything, obviously, so when she snuggled up to me in the Hotel de Ville in Paris, and asked if I would 'do her' a really, really, big favor, I said yes without even asking what it was. As I recall, she didn't spit it out until late, late, that night when she had me by the balls, so to speak.

"Your turn." I said.

"Let's do it!" I had agreed, (meaning, send Sam to rehab). I was buck naked in a $500 a night hotel in Paris with the most beautiful women that I had ever had. She was naked, on her knees, holding my streaming engorged prick in her hand, inches from her multi-tasking mouth. I was sitting in a faux Louis XV chair, to give you a picture, but I was the one on my knees, figuratively speaking?

"Did you get a good look at Herbert and me," lighting up the stub of the joint.

"OKAY, then!" she had smiled at me (back in Paris) looking a bit abashed! It was a very early 'intimate' conversation for us. Intimacy, of a certain sort, we were only beginning to understand. In time, we would both become accustomed to 'OKAY, then!' as her signal for 'let the games begin'.

"Oh, I got a good look, when he opened the door and the light came on."

Thinking back to Paris, again, I shifted in my seat, adjusting the strain on my woody. "Would you like to go shopping in Paris?" It has been my most productive question when conversing with the ladies. I don't use it often, but when I do, I'm ready to deliver! But it's usually a country club term best used with recent divorcees, and it works like a charm. Of course, 'New York' works almost as well at the office, and 'Rich's' will work in Buckhead with the industrial debutantes. But I digress?

"OKAY then! I'm so hot & bothered, sweetie, I feel like I'm going to pop out of my skin," Jenny exhaled a stream of smoke and smoothed the Milan silk blouse over her breasts.

And, oh yeah, 'shopping at Wal-Mart' worked with a beautiful young gal cleaning my house from 'Easy Maids'. She was from 'the country' and has probably raised her sights to 'Rich's' by now, but you get the idea?

"Captain Kidd reminds me of someone," she mused, holding the roach to my lips.

I don't mean to say that they are all 'like that', because every one of them is unique and 'precious in his sight'. But underneath the surface, we are all carnivores: hunting for prey out on the African Plain? So if you are Simba, the LION of the 'hood' then you get the pussy? Or, maybe your experience has been different?

"Who's that, shug?"

Anyway, I had blurted out the 'Paris' line without even considering anything less. You may think me extravagant to propose a shopping trip to Paris as a 'come-on' to a lap dancer in Southern California, but you would be cutting me, and Jennifer, short.

"I'm trying to remember his name," she fussed, taking another toke.

For one thing, every joke, wisecrack, literary allusion, or intellectual put-down that I tried, came back into my face, with her rosy teats to follow. She was quick to show me ('determined' she admitted later) that she was as well educated and SMARTER than me.

"Do I know him," I asked?

She was summa cum laude, and has the parchment to prove it, and I am a sleazy lawyer (arrogant asshole, with a fist full of fifties, was her first impression), with the parchment and bank account to prove it. So, happily, we make a great couple. She relieved me of about $350 in two hours that night, and smart girl, wouldn't go back to my hotel with me.

"Well, you watched me suck him off, so I guess you do!" she giggled and sucked the roach down to her fingernails.

But, true to her word, there she was the next morning, looking like a million dollars (we're waaay past that number now), in the lobby of the hotel, hungry for the $75 brunch buffet. Following her around the feast was a treat!

"Maybe you could narrow it down a little more," I suggested.

Later she explained that they had, "no fucking food in the house." Sam lived on vodka and she survived on 'dollar burgers'. (I never inquired about the $350) Say what you will about taking 'short-cuts' with food & drink? But after several trips to the buffet, four Bloody Mary(s), promises of illegal substances, and a low-key but passionate description of moonlight over the Paris sky line, I had Jenny in my suite: ready for a joint and some Long Island rails.

"My surfer buddy from our first weekend at the Condo," exhaling again.

Only later did she admit that she didn't know what a Long Island rail was. 'Joint' she understood, and as we rode up the escalator to the mezzanine elevators (she confessed to me later), she was expecting a couple of them, joints that is. Mine, and one from Humboldt County!

"The high school kid from Nashville?" I said.

Sometime during that day in California, Jennifer came to believe that she really was going shopping in Paris. I think it was early in the PM, when the bellhop returned with an eight-ball of 'to die for' coke; that it dawned on her that I was going to deliver. That's also, when she learned about Long Island rails.

"He was fifteen with the sweetest dick, and fluffy round balls," she sighed.

The next day we flew out of LAX to Paris. By our return, we had planned Jennifer's new life with me, and negotiated terms and conditions for Sam's rehabilitation program.

"Mathew, his name was Mathew," I reminded her.

As for paying for Sam's rehab? Jennifer declared later, when we were negotiating our wedding vows, "I don't like him much anymore, and I certainly don't respect him, but you have to promise to help him! I gave up my twenties to that loser, but I still care about him. Now I'm giving my thirties to you! So you better not waste them, Big Boy, you better earn every night!"

"Right, Mathew. I'm not very good with names, but I never forget a penis!" She was re-stoned which brings out the best in her.

We pulled up to the curb at Captain Morgan's. Jennifer leaned over and gave me a slow, gentle, and thorough kiss.

"You park the car and I'll find Mathew: Oops, I mean Captain Kidd," then opening the door, Jennifer swung her legs out, smoothed her short skirt, and launched into the night.

I looked at my watch: 11:34. Pulling away from the curb, I looked in the rearview and saw Jen's cute bottom twitching, as she walked along the sidewalk towards the entrance. Out of the shadows Captain Kidd emerged, walking up to Jenny, smiling and saying something. My stomach churned as I watched her stop, give Captain Kidd a full body hug, then she kissed him lightly on the mouth.

The car behind me beeped, so I turned inland off Oceanside and slowly drove up the street looking for a parking space. The vision of Jennifer kissing Captain Kidd roared through my head and I felt my prick leaping and jerking in my pants.

'Morgan's' was hopping with pulsing music and a jammed dance floor. I edged up to the bar, got a brandy and scanned for Jennifer. I spotted her dirty dancing with Captain Kidd.

He had put on a short tank top but otherwise looked the same and was focused on Jen. She shimmied like a lap dancer and 'Kidd' was sticking to her like glue. I knew he was in for a treat. Dancing with Jennifer was like having your own 'private dancer' and she didn't hold anything back.

After my second brandy, Jen spotted me and came over with Kidd. "Get me a cocktail and a big schooner of beer for our boy," she hollered in my ear over the blast of the music.

Jenny disappeared towards the rest room as I elbowed to the bar. By the time I came back with the cocktail and beer, Jen was back. She took the drink and handed the beer to Kidd. She downed hers in two big gulps as Kidd drained a 32-ounce mug like a pro. Jen handed me her glass, "Again!"

She ogled Kidd: his head back, huge mug draining beer down his throat, in a tank top that exposed his six pack belly, naval, and a thin column of downy hair stretching up from his low slung baggy shorts. It appeared that his swimsuit started about where his pubic hair began, but with his head thrown back, his torso arched, drooping the front lower so that his hip bones and a line of curly pubes were visible. When he finished the beer, Jen handed me the big mug, said, "more," and with that, she took Kidd by the hand and led him back to the dance floor.

I got us all another round. Balancing the brandy, cocktail, and huge beer in my hands, I walked over to a small table where two clearly drunk college kids were staring at empty glasses. Putting my three drinks down, I shouted, "I'll give you twenty bucks for this table." Both rose instantly and shuffled off, each holding a ten.

I sat back with my drink, a double, and watched the mob dancing under the strobe lights. Jesus, am I glad I don't have to do that, I thought. I sure liked to watch women dance, and the dirtier and sexier the better! After all, I found Jennifer in a titty bar, pole dancing and lap dancing for twenty bucks a 'throw'. Naturally, I substituted fifties for the twenties and I have never had any complaints.

It sure got Jen's attention and she cleaned out my stash in short order. You may think me a spendthrift, and I don't deny it, but for my money (and it is MY money), having a happy beauty dancing her ass off in hopes that you will go another 'fifty' is a lot hotter than a half-ass effort by a girl thinking about how much her feet hurt.

Watching my wife, I thought how happy I was. She was gyrating with gusto and maximizing contact with the captain. He was pretty buzzed, but I noticed that he managed to touch her at every opportunity. Her luscious boobs were jouncing in perfect rhythm and the Milan silk blouse seemed on the verge of loosing them on every bounce. She was having a wonderful time; and so was I! Of course, Captain Kidd seemed to be entranced, also. A win, win, win, formula I thought, taking a drink.

I was husbanding the last of my brandy when Jennifer came steaming up the steps of the dance floor with Kidd in tow. She plopped down in the empty chair, grabbed the cocktail and chugged it down. The ice was about gone by now and she slid it across the table with clear expectation that she wanted another. Captain Kidd was in his usual stance, standing between us by the table, head and shoulders thrown back, elbow bent, holding the huge mug chugging, by now, warm beer down his throat, chin, chest, and stomach.

Jennifer reached out with her hand, French nails reflecting in the strobe lights, two-carat diamond sparking like a rainbow, and placed her hand smack dead center on his stomach, covering his naval. She slowly circled his wet belly with her palm as he guzzled down the last of his beer. As he stood at the table where Jennifer and I sat, her hand stroking his body was about eighteen inches away from my face. I had a pretty clear view!

When he slammed his empty mug down on the table, Jen rose to her feet. Standing very close, she ran both of her hands up under his shirt to his chest. Rubbing his pecks, she stood on her tiptoes and put her mouth on his ear, saying something that was lost in the roar of the crowd & music. She rocked back on her heels, looking up into his face, but with her hands still under his tank top and on his chest. She gave him a radiant smile.

The Captain had a huge grin on his face as he nodded his head vigorously in agreement.

I was wondering what she had said, suggested, promised him? She reached up again, pulling and twisting his head down to her level, she put her face up to this ear, again, and I saw her wet tongue snake out and plunge into his ear. She lasciviously bathed his ear with her tongue as his eyes bugged out of his head and her hands wrapped around him, tenderly stroking the back of his neck. I had a perfect view!

Jennifer wheeled around and started for the door. Kidd looked at her swaying fanny, turned towards me in confusion, then skittered off after her and they disappeared into the crowd around the entrance. I polished off my brandy and headed for the men's room.

After cleaning up, I walked out the door onto the street and looked around. Half way to the corner, I saw Jennifer and Captain Kidd locked in an embrace. It could have been a movie scene under the street lamp as he held her ass cheeks in his hands. She had her arms around his neck and they were deep into a kiss and squeezing in a full body hug.

I walked towards them and as I got close, Kidd spotted me out of the corner of his eye. He dropped his hands from Jen's ass and jumped back about two feet. Jennifer turned toward me and with a big smile said, "Where's the car, hon, we've been waiting for you?"

"Thanks," I said, pointing across and up the street. "That way."

"Come on Hunter," she urged, grabbing his hand and jaywalking across the street.

I followed, watching the two young lovers hurrying around the corner and up the sidewalk. Jennifer was almost skipping and I know she was excited. 'Hunter' was keeping up as she kept a firm grip on his hand. It was a romantic scene as I watched Jen's shapely rear covered in black leather, her wasp waist cinched in red leather, her red leather 'strappy' heels clipping quickly up the street. She was in a hurry!

When they got to the car, Jenny stopped, dropped Hunter's hand, and turned in profile to model for me, or maybe us? The Gulf breeze gently ruffled her white silk blouse as she reached behind her neck, intertwined her fingers in her hair and pushed it up, exposing the back of her neck to the cool night air. She was as a Greek goddess in the moonlight, shimmering in the gentle evening zephyrs as she pirouetted a full 360 degrees for our mutual pleasure. Her perfect pedicure red toenails and long tanned shapely legs were completely exposed save for about twelve inches of mini-skirt that covered her belly, ass, pussy, and thighs. I felt my prick crawling, again.

Hunter stood enraptured. She was maybe two feet in front of him and paused, face-to-face, then carefully stepped in close and gave him a quick chaste kiss as though he was a brother. Then she spun around to the car and called, "Let's roll, boys, I'm ready."

I flicked the door lock so Hunter could open it. He stood there, confused, looking into the little two seat sports car, not sure what to do. Not to worry as Jen took control.

"Hop in Hunter and put the seat back. I'll sit in your lap." She instructed.

Hunter and I slid into our seats about the same time and I peered past him out the open door to see Jennifer. At first, all I saw was her fabulous legs, but then she bent down to look in the car. The Milan blouse drooped down exposing her luscious cleavage. Hunter and I both stared down her blouse and soaked in the sight. She paused for effect, giving us some time to absorb it all, then she piped up with, "Is there room for me?"

"Sure, Jennifer, we can make room," I assured her in the spirit of the 'game'.

"Okay, here I come," she said, turning around and backing in.

Hunter leaned back as she sat on him. Then she leaned back onto his chest, swung her legs in, wiggled around till she was comfy, and said, "Close the door, Hunter, you have me now."

He had her for sure, I thought, fetching a fresh dobby out of my shirt pocket. I lit it and passed it to Jennifer. She took a big toke and held it up to Hunter's mouth so he could share.

Cranking the car, I pulled out onto the street as she squirmed some more in the tightly confined space of the Miata. We had used wet-wipes back at the Admiral House parking lot to clean off the wet spot from our sexual encounter(s), but I thought Hunter was probably feeling the dampness. Holding the smoking joint in her mouth, Jennifer put her left arm around Hunter's neck, tugged his right arm around her waist so that his hand was holding her under her boob, then letting go, she reached for his left hand and placed it on her thigh.

Her skirt had ridden up her legs so that I could see the crotch of her white cotton panties, but I didn't think Hunter could from his angle. She had her right foot on the floorboard with that leg between his knees and her left leg cocked up a little so that his left leg separated her knees. "Isn't this cozy," she said, handing me the ganja.

The inside of her smooth silky thigh was splayed up and out a little, with her legs spread about six inches apart, where his hand lay gently above her knee. Her face was almost cheek-to-cheek with Hunter. I noticed that she was gently stroking Hunter's bare thigh with her free hand while she gently fiddled with his ear, the wet one, with the arm and hand around his neck. Jennifer started softly singing a little reggae tune, that was, I swear to god, the same tune that Herbert was singing while she sucked his cock. My boner was straining against my shorts.

"Okay then," she cooed as we turned onto Oceanside and slowly cruised down the deserted thoroughfare. Jen leaned into Hunter and smooched his ear, the dry one. He gave a boyish giggle and she did it again.

"Did you like that Hunter? Did you like it when I licked your ear in Morgan's?"

"YEAH, I loved it. This is so cool," he spouted.

"I thought you would," she purred. "Most guys do," chuckling now.

She leaned into Hunter and slowly licked the side of his face with the tip of her tongue.

He let out a little moan, turned his face towards her, and she inserted her tongue into his mouth, jacking it in and out in slow motion.

Hunter's hand began to slide slowly along the tender inside of Jennifer's exposed thigh, and she stirred in response, sucking Hunter's tongue into her mouth and letting out a little squeak. Coming up for air, she exhaled and said.

"Oh, Jake, look at that moon, let's go out to Pearl Beach so we can see it over the Gulf."

"Okay, then," I mimicked her.

"That's my Big Boy," she assured me, while stroking the back of Hunter's neck.

We were approaching the spot where Jennifer first accosted Hunter by the fire hydrant, she piped up again, "Oh, Hunter, this is where we first met. Do you remember?" I could see her hand sliding along his right leg, higher, pushing his shorts up just a little.

"Oh, yeah, Jennifer, I remember! I'll never forget that. It was wicked. I'll remember that the rest of my life," he rattled on as he was moving his hand further up Jenny's thigh.

"So, you can talk. You've been so quiet, Hunter, I was afraid you weren't having a good time? Are you? Do you like this Hunter? Is this fun for you?"

"Oh, yeah, this is great. This is excellent, the best time I've ever had------in my whole life. I mean, this is so cool, I'm, like so lucky! Why me, how did you pick me, I mean I'm really glad you did, but, you know, this is so way cool, I can't believe it, its like my best fantasy, like when I jerk off, I think of stuff like this, and, but, I never thought it could happen, you know---------", she shushed him with her finger.