"Wanna screw?" she asked me, handing me a screw. Well,
that
was certainly a blatant and straight-forward seduction technique. But, the truth was that while she handed me what she thought was a screw, it was actually a bolt, and I should have done exactly that: bolt!
Instead, I chose to accept her definition, that it was a screw. This was not a wise decision, but it's lack of wisdom wasn't apparent at the time, and sometimes a man won't think with the right head.
Her name was Leigh, and I had met her about a year and a half ago, walking through Woodland Park. She was wearing a pair of bib overalls, with a tube top underneath it, and I will confess to a particular weakness – some might call it a fetish – here: I've always fantasized about girls wearing just the bibs, with no shirt at all underneath. Being the flirtatious type, I approached and flirted, even though she had a 2½-year-old with her. What the Hell, flirting didn't hurt anything.
Well, I'm a fairly accomplished flirt, and Leigh was going right along with me. I checked quickly, and saw that there was no wedding or engagement ring on the telltale finger, so when Leigh was going along with my flirting, it seemed to me like I was going to get pretty lucky that night. She was no beauty queen, but was at least cute, with dirty blonde hair and grey eyes. At any rate, we wound up just walking and talking, but with a subtle, but still very present, sexual undertone. We wound up walking up East Maxwell, then down Rose Street, right on Euclid Avenue, and then left on South Limestone, near the University of Kentucky campus. Leigh had taken a few classes at UK, but she wasn't a student now. I had taken a couple of semesters there as well, but turned out to be a rather unspectacular student, and now, while I still lived in the student slums neighborhood, I was working full time on a concrete construction crew.
Leigh had this fairly seedy apartment, over a restaurant, on South Limestone Street, furnished with a ratty couch and double bed mattress, directly on the floor. We got there, and she put her son, Richard, to bed, so that we could continue our 'discussion' in what passed for the living room. Since her son slept in the same bed with Leigh, I knew that there'd be no screwing her in that bed, but what the Hell, the couch would work.
Well, it wasn't to be. Oh, Leigh was certainly willing enough, and after some pretty meaningless small talk, we were both naked, Leigh was sitting on the floor with her back propped up against the wall, while I had my head firmly between her legs, and my pretty talented tongue in her pussy. She was struggling to stay quiet, as was I, but we weren't quiet enough: a few minutes later, after Leigh had already come once but I was still pressing forward with my oral assault, her son walked in, dragging his blanket, and wanting his mother. I hoped that we hadn't traumatized the kid too much, but I'm sure that he didn't have any idea what I was doing to his mother.
Little Richard simply wasn't ready to be put down for the night, so there it ended, with Leigh having had at least one orgasm and being well on the way to a second, but I didn't get off until I got back to my place, and took matters into my own hands. Leigh had said that she was leaving for Florida in a couple of days, moving down there to try her luck in the Sunshine State, and I figured that I'd never see her again.
Fast forward a year and a half, and I was picking up a snack cake in this hole-in-the-wall grocery store near, you guessed it, Woodland Park. The owner was an old, old hippie, and ran his little grocery just the way you'd expect an old hippie to run it: sandwiches from a small deli counter, creaking, finish-worn-off wooden floors, and a couple of small tables out on the sidewalk in warmer weather. I hadn't thought about Leigh in a long time, when there she appeared, handing me the bolt that she called a screw. Thinking with the same head I had last spring, I was going right along with it. Her son was not with her, so I guessed that he was at the babysitter's.
This time, she lived closer, in a house which had been cut up into like six apartments, still a student slums type place, and not appreciably better quality. We walked down, she flopped herself on the couch and pulled up her shirt and bra to show me her fairly large right tit. After I kissed it for a while she sat up to get rid of what she called her 'over the shoulder boulder holder.' Next thing I knew, we were in her messy double bed.
I'd given Leigh a pretty good tongue lashing the last time, and she remembered it, and said that my turn was long overdue. With that, she took my cock into her mouth, and was doing a pretty good job with it. She wasn't a deep throater, but other than that, she was enthusiastic and talented. I stopped her before I lost my load, because I wanted to fuck her.
I didn't need to give her head: she was already soaking wet, and pulled me right down onto her, and into her, missionary style. She was really ready, and crying out in orgasm in not very long at all. As she settled down a bit from that, I told her to get on her hands and knees, which she did with a huge, hungry smile on her face. I got behind her and entered her with one smooth stroke. A few easy thrusts, and then I started picking up speed; within thirty seconds I was slamming into her hard and fast, and she started climaxing again. That was all it took, pushing me over the edge, and I emptied my balls into her with a roar. We both collapsed on the bed.
I almost fell asleep, but Leigh said, "Look, I just
had
to do that. I was already horny, and then when I saw you, I remembered what I missed out on, and I wasn't going to miss out on it again. But I've got to get this place cleaned up and aired out, 'cause my husband will be home in half an hour or so."
What? Her husband? Crap! She hadn't been married before, and I never thought to check her left hand again, but, sure enough, there it was, a wedding ring.
