It was a Saturday afternoon, the high tide of buying and selling at the Nimitz Road Flea Market. I walked straight through the entire lot towards stall 137, where Sheila kept her shop. When I got there, the door was pulled down tight, and I could hear strange noises coming from inside. In two seconds I knew what the sounds were, even though I had never heard them before. Sheila was fucking someone. Those noises were the ones we had made. So, Sheila was fucking someone else. Right now.
I'd gone through a lot since I had hooked up with Sheila, and I think that's what kept me from being a boring, dumb ass man at that point. Sheila wasn't my wife or my girlfriend. She didn't owe me shit. The cinematic ego part of me supported the idea of me banging on the door and getting all Aggro. But you know what, man? There was enough of that shit going on already, and I was lucky to get a second look much less all the fucking I had already got from Sheila. I breathed it all in, and and resigned it all in my head, putting it all in that fuck-bucket of experience we call life. For a second I wished I was Willie Nelson so I could write a song about it. But I was just a College student who liked to hang out at Flea Markets.
I turned away, but before I could do my lame walk of shame out of the Nimitz Road Flea Market, I saw two ladies at the stall just across the aisle from Sheila's. It was Jenny Madison and Francis Jerkinsky, the Blue Jean Queens of the market. They were about Sheila's age, which was less than old, but older than my Mom. You wanna know their exact age? You ask 'em. My Momma didn't raise no fool.
Jenny had dyed red hair, cut short and plastered with hairspray to her head all but for a large curl going up her cheek, like a senorita in a Old West Cantina. She had huge almond shaped eyes and a sultry mouth, which she coated with a lipstick the same shade as her hair. Jenny favored jean skirts and short sleeved loose knit sweater tops that plunged deep into her respectable cleavage. She had dangly bracelets and gold earrings that tended to swing around a lot.
Francis had black hair, yes, it was dyed, and it was sprayed up like Betty Ford., She had a thin figure and only wore the kind of denim dresses that they sold. She had a huge smile, and she was always full of exuberance. Jenny, not so much. She preferred to sit a little aloof and be snarky from the side.
They were both looking right at me as I turned away from Sheila's stall. Jenny with amusement, Francis with pity.
"You had to know she had other men, son." Jenny said with a slow drawl.
"I never really thought about it. But hey, I'm okay. She didn't owe me nothing."
"Oh my dear," said Francis, coming right to me and putting her hands on my arms consolingly. "You sound so brave and mature. How old are you again?"
"19."
"Oh my, 19." Francis said and clucked her tongue while looking me up and down, in a manner that all of sudden didn't feel like it was consoling, as much an ogling. She had a zipper on the front of her denim dress that traveled all the way down to the hem. At the moment it was down just a couple inches, revealing the bare beginnings of her cleavage. To my wonder, I could see no evidence of a bra.
"I do need to tell you," Jenny said from her chair while Francis continued to stroke my arms, forgetting the pretense of consoling me., ". . . both me and Francis were impressed with how you've been such a gentleman with Sheila."
"Oh that is so true!", agreed Francis. "You didn't tell tales, or spread gossip and even defended her honor that one time, like a gentleman."
"Just . . like. . . a . . . gentleman." Jenny drawled out the words so long and sweet she shoulda been leaning over a black metal balcony in New Orleans.
"Well, that's awful kind of you." I said. The moment hung in the air for a bit, both of the women looking at me, and me looking back and forth at them. "Miss Jenny, Miss Francis, are you in need of a . . . gentleman . . . for some reason?" Francis looked over at Jenny, Jenny gestured randomly to the back with a shit eating grin on her face, while Francis said, "For some reason indeed, Mr. John. Right this way, please." Francis took me by the arm and led me to behind their stall. They had put in a mini camper, just big enough for one, but fully equipped with mini sink, mini bed, mini toilet and mini windows. Francis opened the door and turned around then sat on the step just inside the door, with her face positioned straight across from my crotch. She smiled a big smile that matched the housewife innocence of her hairstyle.
"So, now that we're alone. . . " She pulled down on her the zipper at the front of her dress until it was down to her naval. She pulled it open to show her sweetly small tits, which the tight denim made bulge out a bit. Jenny slowly pulled the fabric to stop just before her nipple. She sighed a pleasantly exasperated sigh. "John, do we really need a whole lot of exposition? We'd like to have sex, we don't need husbands, most men are pigs, and you are not a pig. So . . .?" She reached out and undid my own zipper, and pulled out my cock. She spread her legs a little, forcing the slits on the side of her denim dress to reveal her knees and shins, which were tanned a healthy mellow brown Zonker would be jealous of. The wrinkles on her face took nothing away from her beauty, in fact they added to the charm of her pretty eyes and happy smile. Her chest reminded me of Farah Fawcett, or any of those slim chested Angels and the fact that she seemed to be from a different era was an extra turn on, for me especially.
She placed the tip of her tongue on the tip of my semi hard dick, flicking it gingerly and then smacking her lips. Then she took a firm lick, taking a full taste of my cock.
"That'll do I think. Let's see. . ." She surrounded the head of my cock with her slim lips and sucked into her mouth while massaging my balls. My cock throbbed to it's full hardness and Jenny chuckled in approval.
"Oh my yes! This is the cock that made Sheila grunt like a pig. I'm going to enjoy this!" She started giving me a fine blowjob, sucking and bobbing up and down at random, happily making yummy noises around my hard dick. Back and forth, slurping and sucking, deep and shallow! I put my hands on the trailer in front of me to steady myself. Francis was blissing out on my dick, in an almost non-sexual way. She was enthusiastic and attentive, but it was like my dick was candy, or a cigarette, or the thumb of God. I could tell she wasn't trying to get me to come at all. Her smile couldn't be erased by my thick cock moving in and out of her sweet lips. It was a weird thing to adjust to, for about two seconds. A single lady you know and trust wants to suck your dick? Shut the fuck up and let her! Her reasons are hers.
I started slowly pushing forward and back, and Francis wiggled in her seat and leaned forward, opening her mouth wide and looking up at me. She wanted me to fuck her mouth! Holy shit, Betty Ford in a trailer trash denim dress wants me to face fuck her in her Mini trailer! My cock twitched with the nasty ass sight and thought. Keeping my hands on the aluminum trailer walls I slowly thrust my cock to about half it's length and back again. Her lips opened to let me in, and then closed tight as I pulled my hard cock out of her mouth like a sword from a tight sheath. This was a new thing for me, slow and easy, no pressure to do anything but enjoy what was happening, damn this was nice! The minutes slid by, just like my cock between her lips, and I started to bliss out as well, getting lost in the tantric nirvana of the constant squeezing and caressing that her tongue and lips were lavishing on my pulsating dick.
"Hey! Time to tap out!" came the languid voice of Jenny from the other side of the curtain separating the stall from the space where the trailer was parked. Francis stopped going down on me immediately, which was a jarring sensation. "Excuse me please, Mr. John." Francis said, wiping the corners of her mouth and slowly rising to her feet as I leaned back and out to let her pass. I must have looked a little ridiculous, standing there with my pants around my knees, my hard dick bobbing in that silly way that turns every dick into a circus clown's prop. Jenny strolled behind the curtain and gave a little laugh just looking at me. Her big eyes then focused on my dick, and her laughter disappeared and her smile widened. "So Jenny got you all worked up, did she? That's my girl. Take you pants off and get in the trailer." I did so, and and sat in the dining area, facing the small bed on the other side of the trailer. Jenny came in and went straight to the bed and got in a doggy style position, with her side facing me. With her eyes boring into mine the entire time, she lowered her head into the mattress and reached behind her, pulling her short skirt up to reveal black panties on a round bubble-butt ass. She somehow pulled down her panties all the way down her curvy legs and then over her high heels, all in one sexy continuous movement. She smiled at me as she flung the panties away.
"Francis is a very oral person," Jenny was practically purring as she spoke. "Me, I like to have sex. But I'm not as limber as I used to be. So you'll need to do most of the work..." She rose up on her hands, throwing her head back and sticking her ass up as well, " . . . is that okay?"
