Rhonda Is Caught In Heavy Traffic
The first Jenny Lopez Golf Tournament ended an hour ago, a huge success. National media had provided coverage. Sold-out crowds would generate a tidy profit for my Double Eagle Country Club. Smiles from Jenny and Billie-Jean, my occasional play buddies were a rich reward after working for months.
At the moment, I was trapped in traffic departing the tournament. The blank wall of the cart shed on my left, a slowly moving semi-tractor in the lane on my right; hundreds of stalled cars ahead. Weather for the tourney was mild, so I had lowered the top of my convertible. The last rays of the afternoon warming my face and the 40DD's, a gift of my mother's genes.
Hired traffic officers were merging the two lanes from the parking lot onto the narrow country lane that served the club. It would be at least a half-hour delay. I reached into my tiny Coach purse for a chiming phone. A FaceTime call from my friend with benefits who provided the little red convertible, Will.
"Rhonda, Congratulations, that was a super event. Forgive me for leaving early trying to avoid the traffic. I am probably a hundred cars in front of you."
"Hi Will, and thanks. Yes, I am waiting in the parking lot traffic. At the awards ceremony you whispered about feeling constricted? The last few weeks have busy and kept us apart too long. Are you occupied? I am not expected anywhere until after the event dinner."
Will struggling with a weak connection answered,"Jenny and B.J. aren't expecting you for an after event party? You are right, it has been too long. Since we are stuck, how about a running start with some phone play? You were stunning in that tailored blouse and skirt. No woman in the club has the shape or legs to equal yours. What color are your undies?"
"No woman equal...? He would know as the most prolific of the club gigolos. Well acquainted with the ladies single and otherwise. There was seldom a complaint from his "friends."
Will did have a few merits. Direct, polished and skilled with ample equipment. Some say size does not matter, but I vote for girth every time. In recent months, we had been occasional and discreet lovers. With busy schedules, imaginative phone play had proven fun and a practical necessity.
"Okay, Will...Here." Opening the two top buttons of the expensive linen blouse gave a familiar view of cleavage and lace edge of a nude-colored bra.
"Nice, very nice, but it is a shame to cover all that beauty."
Will was definitely a fan of the girls. Taking the hint, my hand eased inside, fingering the strap off my shoulder. At forty-six years, the girls were still perky, so "Lefty" settled only slightly as the cup was peeled down. Another button and the already stiff nipple was available for the phone camera.
"Rho, you are so hot."
On my screen, I see the lap of his fashionable faded jeans and the huge, silver belt buckle.
"Is 'Himself' interested? Show me." I wet a finger and began to tweak the erect nipple.
Will began to breathe hard. "Oh jeez you know how to get to a guy! On the right, there is a cart path to the polo grounds. I need to park because, well, you know. What color are your undies, I meant your panties."
Again checking about for uninvited fans, I shifted my phone between parted thighs. One motion pulled the matching thong aside, giving Will his favorite view of a well-trimmed patch.
"This is almost too much, is she wet, salty and musty? Taste her, tell me..."
I coolly replied, "Enough light on 'Muffy'? Turnabout is fair play. 'Himself' looks wet. Before I answer, YOU will sample Himself. No arguments, I have tasted and swallowed for you."
"Ehh, Okay, but only for you. I am parking at the polo grounds."
A minute later, the phone shows a redoubtable member magnificently erect and glistening. The phone follows a finger from the purple visage to a red face.
"Well, it is mostly nothing, slightly salty, not so bad."
Speaking down to my phone, still clinched between thighs, "See. Your hair didn't turn green. When I get to the polo grounds we share a slightly salt kiss? You seem to like the idea when we cuddle with your video."
"Now for you. A one or two-finger sample? Miss Muff is well warmed, maybe a full Muff stuff with three fingers and a wet wedding ring?"
"Rho, you're killing me...". The screen showed an engorged Himself dripping onto clenched fingers.
Using my committee-chair voice, "Hmm, I see that Himself is near a finish. I give you permission to rub one off, but you must text a picture of the results. No picture, then I will take the usual discipline. Remember last time 'Teacher' had to use her ruler because Little Willie was a bad boy."
A squeak of brakes and I noticed the semi-tractor had eased forward to be replaced by a full-sized pick-up truck and ...
my husband, Bill.
Our eyes met.
Almost shouting down from his driver's window, "Hi babe, I arrived just in time to see you leave the award ceremony. With the traffic, I had a heck of a time catching up. Hope I didn't interrupt your phone call. From the look on your face, we both were having a good time."
He opened the truck door to reveal an erect 'Big Boy'.
Curtly into the phone, "I WILL BE THERE WHEN I GET THERE." End call.
Shifting my clothes back into place then drying with a tissue. The car seat was stained enough already. Looking up to his gentle smile. Not for the first time I offered,
"Hi, Sweetie. Actually I was just making an after-event date. As we promised, I was going to call and let you know. I can cancel."
Bill, ever tolerant, "Babe,why make choices? Would a third be inconvenient for your boy or girl date? Hey, surprise me."
"The traffic is starting to move; follow me, we can ask."
A short drive along the mostly grass cart path found us at the neglected club polo grounds.
I texted Will, "Where on the polo grounds?"
"Behind the bleachers. Check your text. Finished the appetizer now hoping for the main course."
A quick check of the earlier text string included a close up of a well frosted Himself. Will had the recovery of a teenager, maybe his high-protein diet. The little red convertible rolled to a stop where he was standing next to his monster SUV.
Will immediately moved to throw open the rear hatch. Offering his hand as I slowly stepped from the damp driver seat allowing a long look up my skirt. With none of the usual pleasantries and no excuses, he guided me to sit in the open SUV hatchway, padded with a sleeping bag. He was always thoughtful of a girl's comfort.
After settling on the sleeping bag he hiked up my skirt, lifting both my knees, placing my pink tennis shoes on the edge of the door opening. Not a moment later, he was face first into my Y.
A few moments of wet slicking sounds then he came up for air. "You seem distracted," and noticed I was looking over his shoulder across the parking lot at Bill.
Turning, "Who is that?" Will asked.
Through narrowed eyes, I said, "He is invited, but no closer unless we agree that an audience adds to the fun."
