|College Daze II
by A.B. Seass ©
Tall, svelte rather than slender, great tits, a fantastic ass and long shapely legs made even better by the spike heels. Green eyes prone to twinkle, under a mass of close-cropped curly auburn hair. Okay, she was 40-ish, but the hair colour was natural. I could say this categorically because she was naked -- except for the heels that is -- and the shade of the lush pubic curls matched the hair on her head exactly.
As the elevator doors rattled closed, I reached over and gently squeezed her rearend. She tensed immediately. Correction, she "tightened", deliberately. Believe me, she was in no distress whatever. Quite the contrary. She flicked me a sidelong smile -- a GENUINE smile. Nor did she need to "tighten". Her ass was firm enough without...well, why belabour the obvious?
In short, despite her age, Riki was a fox. And I could keep her naked -- squeeze her ass -- in fact, I could do whatever I liked with her. ANYTHING I liked. Because I'd just won her in a poker game.
Well, sort of.
Maybe I should explain...
A few weeks previously, my grandfather had passed away: bequeathing me the apartment block. According to the Will, I could do anything I wanted with the apartments also -- except sell them. At least not until I graduated. It seemed my grandfather thought the responsibility would teach me something about business, while paying for my education.
There were only 8 apartments in the building. Older, but airy and well-maintained. Rather pleasant places in a not-bad location.
Today was the first time I'd been around to collect the rents. Nice tenants -- two real lookers (fellow students) sharing number 202: either of whom would've been more than enough to give me a hard-on. And had...certainly on one notable occasion. (But that's another story) Then 301. Forget the last name. That was unpronounceable. Laslo was 50-odd: short, dark, muscular, more than slightly inebriated, but quick and funny. Charming, always charming. Riki was the tall shapely redhead: clearly enroute to bed when I arrived, partially undressed, and now she was wandering about in an open bathrobe over one of those short black slips. The stiletto heeled slippers would have been a bit much on most women her age. But not her.
From the carnage it was obvious a poker game of some duration had only just finished. Riki cleared a place where I could sit, at the cluttered table, then brought me a beer. A little early for me, as a rule -- but who was going to argue? Besides, I needed the moisture -- kept having to clear my throat. Meanwhile, Laslo sat opposite, shuffling the cards idly -- making small talk for a time (what a great old guy my grandfather was, etc), before offering to "play me for the rent".
Seemed he hadn't done very well overnight.
I was about to refuse, when Riki nonchalantly shrugged off her robe and folded it neatly onto the table in front -- letting her slim fingers caress the fabric, and smiling provocatively, while she asked how much I'd put up against this garment. '20', I mumbled, taking a deep swallow of the beer...'50', Laslo replied promptly, while Riki took a chair herself -- angling toward me and crossing her fabulous legs. We debated the issue for a time, until Riki chuckled and said she couldn't possibly let it go for under $30, "all things considered".
Nodding, I sipped my beer. Then, for something to say, I asked: 'Eastern European?'
'Slovak,' Laslo answered, chuckling. 'Riki is. I'm purebred Magyar.'
Whatever he was, his luck didn't improve. So Riki nonchalantly peeled the slip up and off, adjusting the straps on her fully-laden bra as she folded the slip atop the robe. Then she fetched each of us a fresh beer. I NEEDED one. Laslo was beyond caring one way or the other.
Two hands later she was out of the bra, her tits undulating beautifully -- the nipples hard as rocks: in blatant competition with my cock! And when the time came, she was every bit as relaxed about sliding off her panties.
Believe you me, I had a very uncomfortable bulge in my pants by then. Just as I did when we left the pissed Laslo singing in his chair, and passed down the empty corridor to the elevator.
Which, of course, is where I'd left off...
You probably won't be surprised to hear that I left my hand on her gorgeous naked ass during the entire descent of the elevator. In fact, my fingers did a little wandering -- stroking the cool firm flesh, easing down and through between her thighs, which she parted slightly to allow me access. So I was positioned to insert a fingertip into her twat as the elevator shuttered to a stop. Just the tip, mind. And was she wet! Soaking wet!-- the muscles working instinctively to pull my digit up inside! -- the tremor genuine, confirmed by the sharp soft gasp! And by the distinctive sharp musk odour in the small space.
Then the doors opened, and I pulled my finger out -- literally. She chuckled and I grinned at the soft tight "plop". We stepped out, her heels clicking on the concrete floor: unnaturally loud in the confined space of the small underground garage. I left my hand on her ass, gently guiding her toward my car. She didn't seem in the least concerned that someone might see her -- that someone else might already be there, or might drive in, or walk in from the laundry room on the same level. She was as horny as I was, to that stage where "who gives a damn".
I unlocked the passenger door, held it for her: savouring the toll of her tits and the scent of her as she slipped by me and folded neatly into the seat. Rounding the car quickly, my hard-on seething inside my pants, I climbed into the drivers seat. She chuckled again, asking if I minded -- holding up the cigarettes she'd been carrying in her hand. She had one lit by the time I'd wheeled us out onto the road. Apparently oblivious to the other drivers and pedestrians outside, she cocked her right knee, bracing the heel of the slipper against the dashboard.
It was impossible to concentrate, to NOT glance sidelong at her exposed inner thigh -- and her dewy twat. The smell of her sex was overpowering, enough to make me light-headed.
'Where are we going?' she asked, lightly, her accent enchanting.
'I'm hungry.' I cleared my throat, flicked her a wink. 'There's a Drive Thru not far away.'
'Is it your intention to show me off then?' she chuckled quietly. 'To attempt to humiliate me?'
Either she was a better bluffer than the inebriated Laslo, or she honestly didn't care. Which? 'Is there any reason I shouldn't? Show you off, I mean?'
'None whatever. I am yours to do with as you wish.' She grinned wickedly, her entire demeanour at odds with her formal way of speaking. 'And if you think anyone would be interested in an OLD woman...?' She broke off, shrugging.
Which set off her tits again. Very distracting. Swallowing, to moisten my throat, I said: 'And you wouldn't mind?'
'It's not for me to mind, or not.'
I couldn't figure her out. I really couldn't. We were stopped at a light, so I had ample time to study her. But it was impossible to tell if she was a devoted nudist and-or-exhibitionist, because being a redhead -- her flesh milky white -- there were no tan-lines, or absence of same.
As if reading my mind, she smiled and said: 'It's is one of life's lessons that when you owe money you are obligated -- and some people will exploit that obligation to the fullest extent possible.'
I was about to protest, to say I wasn't like that -- not really -- but someone was banging. Thudding on the roof of the car? What the hell...
Then I opened my eyes and realized I'd been dreaming! And I had the hard-on to prove it! Not to mention that little pool of cum near my navel. Jesus... a full-blown wetdream! I hadn't had one of those since high school. And now I couldn't even jack off to finish the process. Blinking, I sat up, blurry-eyed, and called: 'Okay, okay -- I'm coming'. Which was near enough the truth, or had been. But at least whoever was on the doorstep stopped knocking.
I found a pair of gaunch and jeans, easing them on over my gradually fading hard-on, and was tugging on the teeshirt as I staggered into the livingroom -- where the carnage from the poker game was strewn about on the table. And THAT explained part of the dream. But why Riki?
Opening the door, I came face to face with the real Riki. Every bit the fox she'd been in my dream, even dressed -- in casual jeans and an outsized sweatshirt. In that instant I understood. Laslo and Riki collected the rents for my grandfather, who was still alive -- and I owed THEM, HAD PROMISED THEM FAITHFULLY I'D PAY UP BY TODAY!
'Umh?' I mumbled, flushing crimson. 'You'd better come in.'
She did, her tits undulating beneath the sweatshirt. 'I see you've been playing poker again.' There was no hint of censure in her accented voice. Nor in her faint smile.
There was an inch or so of beer left in one of the bottles on the table. I drained it off. Even warm, and flat, it seemed to help. Setting down the bottle, I sat down -- as much to hide the renewed bulge in my jeans as anything. 'I know I said I'd pay today.' I shrugged, feeling the flush rise on my cheeks. And no, I didn't think about IT. I really didn't. In fact, it shocked me when I heard my own voice say: 'Tell you what, I'll play you for it.'
She arched one eyebrow, amusement tugging at the corners of her mouth and twinkling in her green eyes.
Ever noticed how some things just take on a life of their own? This did. Must have. Because next I knew I was peeling my teeshirt up and off, asking what she'd 'bid for this,' as I laid the bunched shirt on the table.
Then I thought I'd made one helluva of a mistake!-- that when she did say something, finally, I was going to be terminally mortified by her response. Which, of course, was exactly what I deserved. And when the green eyes did rise from what was visible of my naked torso above the tabletop, I squirmed, sweating profusely...
So, ridiculous or not, you can imagine the relief when she folded elegantly onto the chair opposite and said: 'I think $50 per garment would be appropriate,' her smile broadened, 'under two conditions.'
Swallowing, hard, I said: 'Okay. And they are?'
'First, that you cannot quit until you have won back the full amount of the outstanding rent.' She lit a cigarette, fishing out an ashtray from amongst the clutter. 'Second, that you provide me with some suitable beverage?'
'Beer?' At her nod, I jumped up and ran into the kitchen.
While I was fetching the beer, she'd organized the game: blue chips for her, white for me -- each chip worth $10. (Which meant I needed to acquire 30 blue chips to end the game)'And what will Laslo say when you don't have the rent money?' I said, chuckling, trying to sound confident that MY luck would change.
'Laslo has gone to the old country for his uncle's funeral,' she replied, grinning -- and started to deal...
While we played, she chatted away -- about the weather, the state of the economy -- about topics having nothing whatever to do with the situation. She was amusing, good for a laugh. I loved her accent and her formal speech patterns, and found myself relaxing. Almost as a footnote I counted only 4 blue chips -- and of course there was no way to hide the bulge in my gaunch -- once I'd stood up and slid off my jeans. She liked that: her nipples prominent through the sweatshirt, her green eyes taking on that shimmery quality. But her conversation never changed. Nor her approach. Had our roles been reversed -- had my dream come true -- I'd've been drooling!
13 was not my lucky number. It still left far too many chips to win, I thought, as I padded into the kitchen and back to fetch more beer -- buck naked now, my hard-on swaying and jouncing with every move.
Maybe my being naked distracted her. Maybe my luck changed. Maybe...maybe...maybe. Whatever it was, I managed to double the number of blue chips in front of me...
Which was how my dream came true. Well, sort of. With her sweatshirt pushed up...(no bra, as you'd no doubt surmised)...her tits were indeed fabulous: the nipples taut between my fingertips. With her jeans and panties on the floor beside the chair...her pubes were indeed lush and thick, and a perfect match for the auburn hair on her head. With her long shapely legs resting on my shoulders...her twat was indeed oozing, and her musk scent intoxicating.
But once the shudders started to traverse her body, her sophisticated formal language gave way somewhat. 'Oh yes, hell!' Her slim fingeertips wrapped in my hair, pulling my tongue into her splayed thighs, her twat, her hard quivering clit. 'Oh yes-yes-yes, Jesus fucking christ!' And the shudders grew into convulsions, then one long convulsion: arching her rearend clear off the chair, her legs an anaconda-like vise around my head. A delicious series of sensations that went on and on and on...
'Do please keep your hands on your thighs.'
Easier said than done this: on my back on the tabletop, knees drawn up and apart -- her slim cool fingertips lightly traversing my quivering hard-on, pausing briefly to dip into the engorged tip, then rising to her lips for a playful lick, before returning, moist now, resuming their progress downwards. Not to mention her amused grin, which I could see clearly by arching my neck to look between my knees.
'I do believe you're 4 chips short?'
I was trembling, both inside and out -- gritting my teeth... ('You're not planning to ejaculate prematurally, I trust?')...and that was before she began to fondle my balls!
'I do enjoy the feel of perspiration on a man's testicles.'
Her free hand came into play: encircling my hard-on, squeezing gently, starting to stroke me slowly.
'Our suite could do with a good clean, actually? Windows washed, that sort of thing? ALSO a coat of paint would not go amiss. I think perhaps it is about 4 days worth of work. And I think I might enjoy WATCHING it being done for me?'
"Watching"? Naked, then. Taking the elevator ride in reverse? Two quicker strokes encouraged me. 'You got it,' I managed to murmur...just milliseconds before my spine melted, switching off the lights -- my spunk shooting clear up to my chin!!!
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