Coffee, Tea or Three?

"Holy shit!" Bobby said, "What the hell is that?"

"I'm hugging you," she said.

Bobby looked under him at her legs. They were twisted tightly together like the wires in a coaxial cable, thus winching her pussy into a clenched fist.

"Damn, that's tight," he said.

Bree started rocking back into their rhythm and he went with it. "Finish fucking me," she whispered.

Bobby got back to fucking her but there was no more in and out, it was back and forth, harder and then even harder, with their loins stuck together like glue, two bodies melded into one, pounding, trying to squeeze the cum out of each other like they were a couple of flattened toothpaste tubes.

They fucked hard, they sighed and moaned along with the box spring, and Bobby's dick moved very little inside Bree's sexy slot. Little by little, with each snaky stroke of their joined groins, he felt his cum begin to boil. He instinctively knew that if his sperm could ever make it up through the force wrapped around his cock it was sure to be a whopper.

A moment later Bree came to his rescue. As she sung out with a high-pitched trill her twat unsnatched from around his stuffed meat and she came, unleashing a wet wave of cum. Their first time together and their orgasms were almost simultaneous: Bobby continued fucking her and after only three or four more strokes into her wet, open slash, his semen rose through him like it was rushing to put out a fire. He was still coming when he pulled his dried meat out of her and collapsed on the mattress beside her. He looked at Bree's face and she was grinning ear-to-ear. He smiled too.

"Amazing!" Bobby said, shaking his head. He put his mouth to hers and they held each other and kissed softly for a long time.

--

"What was that thing you did with your legs?" Bobby asked. "That was intense."

"I don't know. Kama sutra sex and dancer muscles working together I guess. Was it good?"

"Not good, fantastic. I could get hooked on that."

There was silence for a moment as they held one another.

"But I'll try not to," Bobby added.

Another silence.

Then: "You'll try not to," Bree repeated. "Why is that?"

Bobby said, "Because you're in New York. And I'm not."

Thirty seconds more of silence.

"Why don't you have a boyfriend?" Bobby asked.

"How do you know I don't?

"I don't know. Do you?"

"No. There's not time and I meet so many assholes with massive egos it's not worth the trouble. There are a half dozen backstage romances going on in every production I've been in. They hit on me all the time. It gets to be a drag. It's nice to be home; to meet somebody normal for a change."

"Ah..."

"What about you?" she went on. "Girlfriend?"

"No."

"Good."

More silence.

Bobby started kissing her neck and shoulders. Then her breasts. Bree moaned when he sucked her hooped nipples into his mouth. Her fingers were in his hair, assisting.

"You have a beautiful body," he said in between nipple sucks.

"I like yours too," she said, massaging his scalp.

He worked his way down, and he shifted his body around gradually as he moved his mouth over her warm damp flesh, to her flattened tummy, teasing around her already-fucked pussy, to her inner thighs, kissing her knees, calves, shins, ankles. He took his time kissing the soles of her feet. Then he licked her right big toe, and sucked it deep into his mouth.

"What are you doing?" Bree asked.

"Your toes are special," he said. "You are a dancer. They support you. I support them. You dance on the tips of these toes. What a fucking turn-on!"

He expected a laugh but didn't get it. He continued to suck all of her toes one after the other.

"What, do you have a foot fetish or something?" Bree asked when he was switching to her second foot.

"Never did till now," he said. "Think of it as my own ballet. It's the horizontal en pointe."

Bree chuckled softly. "Well, this is a first. But you're a good dancer I must say."

"I'm gonna suck your toes till you come."

Bree pretzeled her lithe body around so that with Bobby's mouth still on her toes she could get her mouth on his penis. She licked it and kissed it and nipped at it until it was again at its maximum stiffness.

"I'm going to let my mouth dance on this baby for a while," she said. Bobby groaned and half-gagged on her polished big toe when he felt her mouth surround his surging cock.

Despite their awkward positions Bobby did his best to fuck Bree's face as she blew him and he kept trying to suck the paint off of her toenails. By the time he finished sucking all of her toes she had not yet had another orgasm but his dick felt like a balloon about to burst. He reconfigured their bodies a second time, stretching and straightening into a more comfortable sixty-nine position. With her mouth now a warm, snug glove around his overblown boner he split her luscious lips with is tongue and tasted her tangy twat and sucked her florid clitoris into his mouth.

Bree shrieked and she grinded her pussy into his face. The bed creaked as they fucked each other's faces. The room smelled of raw sex and the air was filled with the wet echoed sounds of slurping and sucking and the slapping of hungry mouths on horny flesh.

Bobby knew his cum would soon be on the rise so he gave Bree's clit one more major power suck, eliciting another shrill, stifled shout from her cock-filled mouth. Then he went to work with his tongue, licking and slashing like a viper in heat on her spread lips and her upright organ.

Bree's cunt exploded in his face. Bobby was shocked by the force of it, but was it for him, because of him? Or was it a pent-up tank, finally being emptied? He didn't have much time to think about it because his mouth and nostrils were now flooded and her body writhed as he held her. A moment later his body shook and he came in her mouth, and her lips stayed on him, rush after rush, until he was done.

--

After several minutes basking in the embers of their heat they took turns in the bathroom to perform their bedtime ablutions. Bree went first and when she returned she handed her toothbrush to Bobby. He brushed his teeth and washed up and then searched the medicine cabinet. He found a tube of skin lotion and gently rubbed some into each side of his cock, hoping to relieve the soreness of his fresh, raw brush burns.

It was getting pretty late. Bobby climbed back into bed and curled his arms around Bree so their naked bodies were touching in as many places as possible. The air in the room smelled of lewd, leftover love but their kisses were minty fresh until they fell off to sleep.

The morning sun was just beginning to filter through the curtains when Bobby was awakened by Bree's mouth on his enlarged cock. He ran his fingers through her hair.

"You had a huge erection," Bree said, looking up. "I wanted to say 'Good Morning'." Then she went right back to work.

She sucked him hard and dug her fingers into his ass. He only winced a couple times from the soreness on his shaft. Soon he moaned and groaned and twisted and shook and busted his nut. Bree kept her mouth glued to his warm gun as he came and swallowed most of it but still had a mouthful when she kissed him.

"Good morning!" she said.

"Good morning to you. Now it's my turn."

Bobby put his head between her legs and buried his mouth into her cooch and started eating. He held her buttocks in his hands and she locked her legs around his neck and fucked his face for several minutes. When she relaxed her grip Bobby rose up onto her. Bree brought her legs up until they were resting on her shoulders giving him total access. Another turn-on, he thought, thanks to her dancer flexibility. With his face tacky from sweat and jizz he slipped his re-hardened cock into her deeper than ever and gave her an intense, bed-banging, dual orgasm, proper good morning fuck.

"When do you go back to New York?" Bobby asked after their bodies had stopped erupting.

"Tomorrow," she said meekly.

"Can I see you tonight?"

"You better believe it!"

Bree took a shower first and then while Bobby was taking his she changed the soggy linens and made the bed. Then she went into the kitchen where her mom was pouring orange juice and had coffee brewing.

"Well, good morning, Houserocker," her mother said when she entered the room. "Does your bed still have four legs?"

Bree smiled and blushed and poured her own glass of juice.

"Where's Carl?"

"He left overnight. He said he had to work today."

"How did it go?"

"It was okay. No magic. I won't be seeing him again," Summer said. "But it sounded like a different story in your room."

"Yep," Bree said. Then she put her lips to her mom's ear and whispered, "Magical."

A moment later Bobby breezed into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Summer," he said energetically.

"Good morning Bobby."

After they shared a few other courtesies Bobby said he had to be going. He looked at Bree and said, "Pick you up at six?"

Bree nodded. "That sounds good."

She walked him to the door and kissed him goodbye on the front porch.

--

Bree was watching for Bobby when he pulled up in front of the house right as six o'clock and was immediately on her way out the door.

"Bobby's here," she called to her mother. "I'm leaving, Mom. Don't wait up."

"Have fun," Summer said. "Don't forget brunch with Grandma."

Bobby watched Bree jog toward him, thinking Damn!, why does she have to live in New York? She looked marvelous in a long-sleeved black dress with a zipper all the way down the front from the top to the hem at mid-thigh. As she scurried across the front yard it was obvious she was braless and her limber legs forced the dress a little farther up her legs. She jumped into the car, put her purse and sweater on the seat and leant to give Bobby a kiss on the lips.

Bobby had searched around to see if there was some kind of dance performance going on somewhere in town that he could take her to but there was none to be found. This didn't really bother him because the couple hours they would have spent sitting in seats watching the show was a couple hours he could not spend talking to her, getting to know her better, laughing with her, or trying to get her naked. So he would take her to dinner and they would wing it from there.

The evening was a smash success. Dinner was at Flounder Fred's, a popular seafood restaurant. They had to wait for a table but that was cool, they had a couple drinks and were good and loose by the time they got a table. Dinner was delicious and the conversation was even zestier. They talked about the night before: meeting at the bar, partying, laughing, going to bed together, the sex, the horizontal en pointe. By the time they finished the meal Bree was wet and Bobby was playing with himself under the table.

"We better get out of here before I unzip your dress," he said.

"How's this for a start?" Bree asked, and pulled the zipper down six inches, teasing him with cleavage.

"Let's go," he said. They walked out hand-in-hand.

Fortunately there was a vacancy at the Holiday Inn about a half block away. As they were checking in Bree opened her purse and took out her toothbrush and showed it to Bobby with a sly grin. She had planned well. They found their room and were naked in about ten seconds. They slammed their lips together and groped for the bed. They spent the night kissing, fucking, sucking, licking, moaning and groaning and coming all over each other. He even got another dose of Bree's legs-crossed, cunt-locked scissor fucking. In the early morning they did it all again. Then they showered together, getting cleaned up for brunch. But Bobby's cock found its way into her one more time while the powered spray rained down on them. He even cleaned her asshole with his tongue for good measure.

--

Bobby tried to beg off of brunch, thinking it may be kind of awkward. Bree told him no, it's okay, don't worry, they're cool. She picked up her phone and called her mother. Summer agreed and welcomed him.

They met at an upscale restaurant near the university. Bree and Bobby wore their same clothes from the night before but they had cleaned up real nice. Summer looked fabulous in a red skirt and a navy crop top. And Bobby thought Ella, who was Summer's mother and Bree's grandmother, looked pretty damn good too. He figured she had to be late fifties, but she looked ten or twelve years younger. She was thin like her daughter and granddaughter and looked in excellent shape. And she definitely looked like an old hippie in a flowery embroidered peasant dress and long blonde/gray hair pulled back in a ponytail bound by rubber bands about every three or four inches down her back.

The women ordered mimosas while Bobby had a bloody mary. Brunch was whatever they wanted. They could choose from eggs any-which-way, pancakes, waffles, crepes, ham, bacon, grits, breads, sweets, you name it. Bobby pigged out and listened while the ladies did most of the talking. He thought Ella seemed to be more like Bree than like Summer: The free-wheeling, ad-libbing, winging-it, artsy fartsy type. Summer seemed a little more conventional.

Brunch over, they drove in two cars to Summer's house. Ella said goodbye, hugged her daughter and granddaughter and left. The time was nearing when Bree would be leaving. Bobby offered to drive her to the train station which was about a fifteen minute drive. While Bree was packing Bobby and Summer chatted on the sofa.

"That was nice to offer to drive her to the train," Summer said. "She doesn't visit very often, but when she does I always offer to drive her but she usually just calls a cab."

"My pleasure. Now we can see her off right."

"Oh, okay, yes," she said, happy to be included.

Bree entered the room with her bag. She had changed into the same jeans and red sweater she'd worn on Friday night. She looked even better than the first time.

They piled into Bobby's car and he drove to the depot. He dropped them at the front, got Bree's suitcase out of the trunk and went to park the car. It being a Sunday afternoon, he found a spot easily and hustled into the station. He saw them seated on a bench and joined them.

"They said they'll be calling her train in a few minutes. Everything is on time," Summer said.

Mother and daughter talked. Be careful, keep in touch, call me when you get in, good luck on your audition, don't forget to blah blah blah. Then they all exchanged contact information and promised to stay in touch. Then they called Bree's train.

Summer hugged and kissed Bree and said goodbye, and then it was Bobby's turn. He hugged her tight, kissed her cheek, then gave her a short deep one on the mouth.

"You should come up to New York and visit," Bree said.

"Sure," he said, doubting it would ever happen.

She hugged him again and put her lips right up to his ear.

"Mom thinks you're cute," she whispered. "Go for it."

Then she spun on her heels, picked up her bag and walked out to her train.

--

On the drive back to her house, Bobby realized it was the first time he'd been one-on-one with Summer. He wanted to make conversation but wasn't sure what to say. He didn't want to be too trite and he didn't want to sound too sappy.

"How often does Bree come to visit?" he asked.

"Oh, it depends on her schedule," she said. "Her day job is predictable, but the dancing is all over the place, feast or famine. It can be a grind. I doubt she'll make it for the holidays if she's in a production again this year."

"You have to hand it to her. She's following her dream. To be so young and go to The Big Apple all by herself. That's pretty brave."

"She always knew what she wanted to do. I encouraged her, I said be happy and do what you love. She never wavered; she worked jobs and saved her money. A week after she graduated from high school she packed two big bags and got on the train."

"You encouraged her, that's good," Bobby said. "I wish my parents had done that. They always had a plan for me, to be practical, go to college, get a degree and get a good job. I was an obedient son and did as expected, trying to please. Doing what I loved never factored into it."

"Do you resent that?"

"Not really because my parents didn't know any better. They did what they thought was right. But my talents and aptitude are in music and arts and I have a business degree. So I work in sales and play music part time. Bree is doing what she loves, pursuing that dream. I admire that, almost envy it. You have encouraged her to go for it and that is great. You're a good mother, Summer."

"Thank you," she said. "My mother had me young; she became pregnant in her senior year of high school. My father was a pothead who was seldom around. And then I did the same thing. I got knocked up in my senior year."

"High school sweetheart?"

"Yeah, an eighteen-year-old sweetheart who turned into a twenty-year-old loser. I know the struggles my Mom went through and I know the struggles I went through. I tried hard to drum two thoughts into Bree's head: Follow your dreams and don't get knocked up."

"You're a good mother," he said again. "And you two have a great relationship, that's obvious."

"We leaned on each other a lot when she was growing up. My mother was a big help, but it was just the two of us most of the time. We were close. I was her best friend as well as her mother."

"When I think of when I first saw the two of you Friday night at The Vous, it's still hard to believe you're her mother. You both looked so sharp. I thought you were the older sister. You didn't come off like any mother and daughter I've ever known."

Bobby drove with his eyes straight ahead but his peripheral vision told him she had turned and was looking at him. She held her gaze for a few seconds before facing front again.

As they neared Summer's house Bobby tensed up because he didn't know how to proceed. He liked Bree a lot, but knew a long distance relationship was likely doomed. He liked Summer too, and since he had received Bree's go-ahead he had no guilt about pursuing her. But he didn't know how, and didn't want to come off like a jerk. Fortunately Summer bailed him out.

"Would you like to come in for a little bit?" she said when he pulled up in front of the house. "Would you like coffee, or tea?"

"Yes, thank you," he said. "Whichever you prefer would be fine." He parked the car and they went inside.

--

Bobby leaned against the kitchen counter as Summer heated water for tea. The long weekend was winding down and that meant it would be back to work Monday morning. Summer asked Bobby about his job.

"I'm a salesman, not my natural calling to be sure, but I do okay. I have a huge territory and drive a lot. I'm spread pretty thin but it's not bad. I come to this area around the university once every couple of weeks. How about you? You work at the V.A. hospital?"

"Yes, I'm an ophthalmic technician," Summer said as she poured tea. "Let's go sit in the living room." They carried their cups into the next room and sat together on the sofa.

"How did you get into that?"

""After I finished community college I got interested in it and took a course and became certified."

"What's an ophthalmic technician do?" Bobby asked.

"I assist the doctors with examinations and testing and surgery and patient care."

"That sounds interesting."

"It is, if you're into eyes," she said, stirring her tea. "You wouldn't believe what we see at the V.A. The neglect and the pathology we see from veterans is incredible, we are consistently amazed and see something new almost every day. Veterans from World War II, Korea, Viet Nam, with disease and trauma and craters in their eyeballs. And they live with it. Not what you see at the typical eye doctor's office."

"Sounds like a real eye-opener," Bobby said.

Summer cracked up and laughed so hard she spilled hot tea on the table. "You are so corny!" she said. Bobby chuckled and mopped up the mess with a napkin.