*** This tale contains elements of forced, incestual, and bi-sexual behaviors. I don't condone or endorse any of them. All of the characters are 21, and if they had a vote, they'd approve. There is also a touch of Transgender identity that I'm flying blind about. As always, this is not a documentary, IT'S ONLY A DIRTY STORY! ***
It was the deluge that forced me inside. When I boarded the bus after work the rain had just started to fall. On a very hot mid-summer evening after my shift, the cool spray felt good. At my stop, about four blocks from home, the skies opened-up as if it was time to build an arc. Through the downpour, I saw a familiar neon sign in a window and like a guiding beacon, I ran toward it. Having enough change for a pint or two, I stopped in the friendly oasis. My buddy Bruce was behind the bar and when I saw the puddles under many peoples' feet and the wet-mop hairdos on most of them, I knew that this would be my sanctuary until the storm let up.
The regulars were dripping wet too and that made me think that they had just arrived minutes before me. So I exchanged some nods and glances until my usual aperitif appeared. I looked around at the other drowned rats and one face from across the bar caught my eye. She was appropriately drenched like the rest of us but didn't quite fit the mold. I could only see her from the waist up, but what I saw really looked enticing.
She had straggly dark hair leaking droplets down her back to match the trickle of rain from the bill of her soaked and flattened cap. Each drop from above settled onto her prodigious front porch and dampened the frilly cotton enough to make it almost see-through. Her makeup ringed her eyes and was streaking down her cheeks like a bad Alice Cooper. And her summery, white blouse was drenched, revealing the flimsy, red bra that was no match in concealing her hefty boobs against the effects of Mother Nature. The sodden shirt clung lasciviously to her curvy upper body and I was thoroughly turned-on by her anguish. She sat proudly still recognizing that she had a great rack but knowing that perverts like me, were getting an extreme invitation to her well-developed anatomy.
She was holding a small glass of golden elixir in one hand while the other served double-duty trying to obscure the pointy nipples cutting through the wet material and tugging the clammy cotton from her shivering torso. She caught me watching her delicate maneuvers and averted her eyes, but a shy smile played on her trembling lips. I have a habit of imagining what some women would look like if their clothes suddenly dissolved and I believe she read my mind when she noticed me smirking at her. But in my defense, this was a very nice set of tits on a pretty girl, and I'd swear that I had seen them before.
She summoned Bruce to her side and after a whispered exchange, he returned with another shot of tequila and a dry bar towel. She downed this second shot like a veteran, with salt and lime, leaving just a red semi-circle of lipstick on the glass. Then with the towel tucked under her arm and a wet backpack that must have been sitting on her lap, she headed towards the ladies' room in gym shoes that squeaked with wetness on the wooden floor. I noticed as she walked away that she also had a very firm ass bouncing under her soaked jeans.
I motioned Bruce over and asked if he knew her name. He said that they had just met and that her name was Casey. She had recently moved into the neighborhood and apparently, lived right near me. Now I remembered her. Though I didn't know her name; with our apartments being nearly across the street and both on the third floor, plus with the aid of binoculars, I occasionally saw her walking around her bedroom and often sunbathing on the small balcony with her roommate or maybe a daughter. She was built for pleasure and her roomy was pleasantly put together, too. The other one was taller and heavier, Casey had bigger tits but the other one had longer legs and they both had blonde hair. I told Bruce that I would buy her the next drink and he smiled at my attempt.
The woman who walked out of the bathroom was not the same girl that went in. What an amazing transformation. This was not a young lady as I'd imagined but looked to be between 35 and forty, (about twice my age.) The cap was gone and her golden hair was brushed to a lustrous sheen. The runny makeup had been washed away, so she no longer looked goth. Small age-lines bordered her eyes and crinkled at the sides of her mouth, only making her appear sexier. She was definitely MILF material. I have learned that young women have something that older gals can never recapture but that older women gain something that a younger woman could never have.
The backpack must have contained her workout clothes from an earlier trip to the gym. She now was wearing a plain white tee with a Tweety-Bird logo and the soggy bra was missing. Her boobs jiggled with each step but her chest was warm and dry and the shirt no longer chafed her delicate nipples. The gooseflesh that had dotted her arms and chilled her lips was now, soft, tanned skin. The jeans too, were replaced by very short shorts and her taut, muscular thighs were bare and golden brown all the way down to her pink toenails. The socks and shoes must have been too water-logged to be comfortable. All-in-all, she presented a very tight package.
She breezed past her stool with a wave and when Bruce informed her that she had another one coming, she simply smiled and continued out the door. The rain had stopped and a light mist shrouded the darkened night. She skipped out the door bare-footed, dodging puddles as she made her way home. I slammed a fist on the old oak bar having missed my chance. I should have introduced myself or atleast said "Hello." I needed another drink, and two led to six, until my pockets were considerably lighter. I banged down my last shot and ignored the grimaces of the others who laughed at my feeble attempt at gallantry. I left Bruce a suitable tip, (he laughed too,) and staggered out into the damp night, feeling semi-drunk and belligerently horny.
