WBDP - Brianna Delivers Pt. 11

They made everything to order, so it took some time before our order was done. They had Trivial Pursuit cards at all the tables so we took turns asking each other questions, while we waited. Marcia had an orgasm or two before our food arrived. She saw the waiter returning and straightened her posture again, just for him. While looking around, I noticed our side of the room had a lot more guests than the other side of the room. The allure of sex and beauty. He gave each of us our burgers and shakes and set the fries and onion rings in the center of the table. He was making a valiant effort to keep his eyes off Marcia's boobs, but couldn't help sneaking surreptitious glances in their direction. I was having fun and I'm sure Marcia was too. This was playing into her exhibitionist tendencies.

We had a wonderful lunch and the waiter kept coming by asking if we needed refills on our drinks. Milk shakes made me thirsty, so I had one. Marcia was fine with hers. I signaled for the bill and Brett was Johnny-on-the-spot. He took my card and was back shortly with the receipt and two mints. I signed and we stood up.

"Please come again," he said, talking to Marcia's boobs again.

"I'm afraid it's unlikely," Marcia said, putting a finger under his chin and raising his eyes to hers. "We're moving away. Say 'thank you'."

"What ma'am?"

"Say 'thank you' for the free show you received this afternoon."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"You're welcome, young man. My pleasure."

She left, leaving a trail of broken hearts and me behind her.

As soon as we were out of the restaurant, Marcia turned to me and kissed me. "God, that was fun," she gushed. "I haven't felt this wicked since our cruise. I climaxed right as he told me 'thank you'."

"You didn't have to use your kerchief to wipe yourself off," I pointed out.

"I used my napkin," Marcia said. "I'm saving my kerchief for when a napkin isn't available. Where to next?"

"After a quick stop at the Sanibel Lighthouse, we'll go to Ding Darling."

"Make sure you take a lot of pictures."

"I will," I said, "especially if you're in the picture."

"You're so sweet." She patted my cheek.

She climbed into the car and I hopped in and opened everything up again. The afternoon thunderstorms were staying away for the moment. It wasn't far to the lighthouse. There was still a house attached to the light, but it was locked up now. Everything was automated, but they kept everything painted and pristine for the tourists. The afternoon light made Marcia's blouse even more transparent, but she ignored her appearance as if the thought of her breasts being visible to prying eyes was beneath her notice. As she walked through the sand around the property, her breasts swayed and undulated beneath the thin fabric in counterpoint to her hips. She gathered more than her fair share of looks, glances and stares, apparently oblivious to all, though by the secret smile on her lips, aware of every one. I took twenty or thirty pictures, most of them featuring Marcia in some way with the rest of the scenery in the background, though I got a couple of the lighthouse itself.

The property had mostly recovered from Hurricane Charley which shot from South to North over Sanibel and Captiva fourteen years before. There were still thin spots in the foliage, but most of it was back. Many roads through Sanibel used to be overshadowed by tree limbs forming a leafy bower for drives through the island. Charley took care of that. Many trees were torn from the ground and what trees remained had limbs stripped from them. No more shaded drives. It was an extremely powerful storm featuring sustained winds of over 150 mph near the eye. We were fortunate Charley was so small and moved so quickly or the damage would have been worse. Hurricane force winds only extended out 30-40 miles from the eye instead of the 150 miles out from Katrina in New Orleans and the eye moved at over 25 miles per hour over the ground. That meant we were hit with hurricane winds for about three hours beginning to end. The second lucky break was the sudden change of direction. Instead of having a huge storm surge which would have washed over the islands, scouring it clean; the change of direction meant it had almost no surge while battering the islands and Punta Gorda. If it had been a massive, slow moving storm like Katrina, Sanibel and Captiva would have been wiped off the face of the map or forever altered. No million dollar homes, stores, restaurants or resorts. Despite our good luck, it was still the second most costly storm up to date in the US, behind only Andrew. It took three to four years before they cleaned out most of the debris on the islands and they started looking like they had before. Ding Darling Wildlife Refuge was still littered with downed trees as they let nature take its course there.

Ding Darling was a refuge administered by the National Park Service and it took a large chunk of the north and east sides of Sanibel. It had walking trails but it also had a driving trail for cars. About three and a fraction miles long, you could creep along at ten to fifteen miles per hour, past the back bays and estuaries where millions of migrating birds stopped or made a home in the winter months. With frequent stops, it took two to three hours to drive. The black and red mangrove trees made a perfect hatchery for dozens of fish varieties which made it good hunting grounds for the birds. Flying raptors such as osprey and bald eagles made their homes there as well as a few salt water crocodiles which were rare in Florida. There were lots of alligators though, and you could see them sunning themselves on the banks. The driving trail had frequent pull overs for cars to stop at and all the traffic was one way. It was my intent to stop often and walk around, making Marcia slide out of the car in her short mini skirt and take a lot more pictures.

We paid at the entrance and took the driving trail. I was sure Marcia would be the most exotic wildlife most of the people would see today and certainly one of the most dangerous, though she looked harmless enough. Every few hundred yards, we would pull over and Marcia and I would get out of the car and walk around, taking multiple pictures. Most of mine featured her in some way. More than a few binoculars from the birders were trained on her instead of the birds and I saw a few telephoto lenses aimed her way as well. I kept turning her Vibe off and on, wanting to keep her on the edge of orgasm for a long time, if not past it. After awhile, the kerchief disappeared from around her neck and found another use.

Halfway through our drive, we saw a big gator sunning itself. Marcia got out of the car with me and approached to within thirty feet or so of the big boy. Not close enough to disturb it and cause it to disappear in the water, but close enough I could get pictures of both of them in the frame. Alligators will rarely attack standing adults; possibly if there were nesting eggs nearby, but we're not on their food chain and it was past nesting season. A child or animal is fair game as is an adult on their hands and knees because then we look like something on their food chain. Still, it pays to be cautious around them as they can run faster than a horse for short distances. I got some great photos of her, then we swapped places and she got some of me. After getting back in the car, I put my hand on her pussy and found it wet.

"Have you had a lot of orgasms?" I asked.

"You keep turning the Vibe off and on, so only about two since we got here," she said, using her kerchief to wipe down her legs again. "I can smell my own arousal and I'm surprised the gator didn't try to mount me."

I laughed. "If we find a private place, would you like to be fucked?"

"I would love a good fucking, but I'd be surprised if we found someplace without people around. I haven't seen one yet."

"Now, I'm motivated to find one; maybe down one of the branches of the walking trail. It's too hot for most people to be using them."

"If you find one, I'm your girl, but I won't do it knowing there's anyone within two hundred feet of where we are. We're lucky nobody much cared at Corkscrew. This is federal property and we have to worry about tourists walking, driving and canoeing nearby, people with telescopic lenses and binoculars, not to mention, park rangers, so don't hold your breath looking for one."

I was definitely motivated, but Marcia was right. Everyplace I thought we might have some privacy, there were people walking towards, away, or already there. I might have chanced a place with people leaving, but given the double takes Marcia was receiving by most, I couldn't assume folks wouldn't double back for another look. The high temperature was causing us to sweat and the dampness wasn't doing anything for the opaqueness of Marcia's blouse. Quite the contrary, more and more of her was visible with each passing minute. The Vibe and the air conditioning in the car was keeping her nipples peaked. All in all, she was quite the spectacle, though she ignored all visible signs of their attention.

We got to the end of the drive without finding anyplace to work off my lust. Too bad, but it gave me incentive for tonight. For now, it was getting close to six and I was hungry again.

"Has your Vibe still got juice?" I asked.

"Is it on?" Marcia asked.

"Yes," I replied.

"Then it's dead," she said.

"Time to put your other one on. Take out your Vibe and clean it for me."

She pulled it out of her cunt and licked her secretions from it. I plugged in a USB cord and started charging it again in case I should have need of it later. I handed her the new butterfly. I watched her slide the straps over her legs, pull up her dress to get them over her hips, then insert the penile portion into her pussy and seat it over her clit. She pulled her skirt down.

"It's ready."

"Since it lasts so long, I'm going to leave it on low power all the time, though I'll turn it higher on occasion, like when the server is at our booth."

Marcia smiled at me. "Go ahead. Make me cum. Make me smell like a ten dollar hooker."

I sniffed the air in the car. "You already smell like a ten dollar hooker. I want you to smell like a two dollar hooker."

She punched me in the arm; not hard, just enough to let me know what she thought of my comment.

"Where are we going for supper?" She asked.

"Doc Ford's Rum Bar and Grill."

"Yummy. I wonder if Randy Wayne White will be there?"

"I don't know. It's possible."

Randy Wayne White was a local author I've mention previously. He'd been a fishing guide and local TV personality who'd take people out on fishing trips and interview them while fishing as they were recorded. His interview with Peter Matthiessen about his novel "Killing Mr. Watson" was a classic. He'd started writing novels himself and his primary character was a marine biologist living in a stilt fish house on Dinkins Bay, Sanibel, named Marion 'Doc' Ford. Ford had used his background as a marine biologist to do dirty work for the government for an unnamed agency. He quit working for them, but put his particular skill set to work to help people on occasion until he required help from the agency and they refused to help unless he would do the incidental job for them again. His books became popular and I purchased and read everyone that came out. Marcia and I met him once at a Lee County Book Fair several years ago. He autographed a book for my Mom who was the person who introduced his novels to me. He was a wonderful, friendly guy, and before I went to LA, he was the most significant celebrity I ever met.

About fifteen years ago, they opened a new restaurant called Doc Ford's on Sanibel with his permission and financial backing. They've since added another on Fort Myers Beach and Captiva. Randy Wayne White frequents the one on Sanibel, often working on his next book there. They serve Caribbean Cuisine, steaks, chicken and drinks, specializing in rums, of course, by the name. Best of all, it wasn't far from Ding Darling. The parking lot was full when we got there, even out of season, but people on Sanibel could afford to dine out anytime they wanted. It wasn't so full they didn't have an empty table so we got to sit down right away. Marcia snagged an extra napkin again. Randy Wayne White wasn't there, but my understanding was he did most of his work at night when there were fewer people in the restaurant. A waitress came to our table and did a small double take when she saw Marcia's outfit, but she was more subtle than the young man at Cheeburgers.

"Hello, my name is Shelly and I'll be your server tonight. Here are the menu's. I'll be back in five minutes for your drink orders." She whisked away. They were busy tonight so I wasn't discouraged.

We started perusing the menus. I pretty much knew what I wanted for my dinner, but I was checking out the rums and noticed they offered flights of three different rums. Marcia could drive if I got tipsy, so I decided to get one. I was also going to have the Yucatan shrimp as my entree.

Shelly came back in the allotted time and asked if we cared for drinks.

Marcia said, "Hot tea with lemon and by lemon, I mean three slices, at least, and a water."

"I'd like to try one of your flights of rum, but I'm not that familiar with rums. If I wanted to try three top shelf rums, what would you suggest?"

"For a white rum, the Vizcaya Cristal White is exceptionally good and quite popular with our guests. For a dark rum, you can't go wrong with the Don Q Gran Añejo. Another very popular and extremely smooth rum is the Bumbu rum from Barbados. Our customers swear by it."

"I'll take those three, and a water as well. Thank you, Shelly."

"I'll put this in for you and be back inside ten for your food order."

I detected the subtle signs of Marcia having another orgasm. I put my hand over hers and smiled. She looked up, her eyes filled with liquid heat and whimpered a little, though softly.

"I'm so fucking turned on right now, you better be prepared to fuck all night unless I'm totally exhausted before we get home," she whispered.

"I'll do my best to accommodate you, my darling."

Our drinks came in seven minutes, Shelly with them, and as soon as the bar waitress left, Shelly asked for our food orders.

Marcia started. "I'll have the Captiva crab cakes for an appetizer and I'd like the panko crusted grouper for an entree. No salad. This will be enough if I want the key lime pie for dessert."

"You, sir?"

"I'd like the shrimp ceviche from the raw bar and the Yucatan Shrimp for the entree, half pound. I won't need salad either, just a slice of the key lime pie later."

"Very well. I'll get this right in."

Our appetizer and raw bar items were out in ten minutes. We chatted about the day thus far and how much we'd enjoyed it, despite being unable to find a place private enough to engage in a little carnality. There were still places we wanted to go out here on the island, but I told Marcia, Brianna and the others were interested in coming out to the islands while they were here, so we'd be back before she left for California.

"When did you talk to Brianna?"

"Last night while you were napping. I texted her the closing date and time and she called right after. She said she'd fly back with you. She'll call us tomorrow morning so we can get together and make plans."

"She's staying until I leave?"

"Yes. She said they can wait until Wednesday. I was thinking Bowman Beach, Mucky Duck and Bubble Room."

"Perfect. How wonderful. How's your ceviche?"

"Delicious, just like you. Perhaps you could give me some of your secret sauce."

Marcia laughed. She looked around a little to see if anyone was paying attention, then slipped a hand below the table. She grabbed a shrimp with her other hand and held it over her plate. Her hand came out from under the table and she rubbed the shrimp over her fingers and handed it back to me. She licked her fingers and watched me eat my shrimp.

"Is it as good as you thought?" Marcia asked.

"I would happily eat lots more," I replied.

"Well, I don't want to dip them because of the chilis on them. I suspect it would burn like a bitch if I got any on my hoohaw. Be kind of like getting pepper sprayed down there. Not pretty. Pepper and mucous membranes don't go well together."

"I suspect you're right."

"I've used pepper spray. I know I'm right."

"Not on your hoohaw?"

"No, but I've gotten it in my eyes and nose and it wasn't pretty."

By the time we finished our appetizers, Shelly was there with the entree's.

"Shelly, could I ask a favor and get you to take our picture together?"

"Of course. At the table?"

"Yes, but let me stand behind her."

Shelly nodded and I got behind Marcia, bent over and wrapped my arms around her, just under her breasts. It would have been gauche to grab them in the restaurant, but my arms made them stand out. Shelly noticed. She shot a couple pictures, one of us both looking at the camera and another where I kissed Marcia's cheek. She showed us the two photos she took and they were both pretty decent.

"Thank you, I said.

I sat down and we ate. Unfortunately, Mr. White didn't come in before we had to leave. I asked Shelly about it and she said he was currently on a book tour. It meant I probably had another book to buy. I left her a nice tip. At least she didn't talk to Marcia's breasts though she always remained aware of them.

As we walked to the car, I asked Marcia how many more times she'd cum.

"Six, with another one on the way," Marcia said.

"Perhaps we could stop on the causeway and take care of some business so we don't have to rush to get home?"

"God, yes!" Marcia exclaimed.

The causeway always had some cars on it, but this time of the day, near sunset, there would be fewer. The westering sun would reflect light from the car back to approaching drivers rather than silhouette us to oncoming cars. It was a risk, but one we'd be willing to take. Even so, it was twenty minutes or more before we reached the causeway. Marcia had cum not only a seventh, but an eighth and ninth time before we got there. As soon as we were on the bridge, her mini-skirt was unzipped and pulled above her waist and the butterfly out and being licked off. Most of that was at seat level. The first section was too small and still had too many cars. The second island structure was much bigger and had fewer cars. I pulled off the bridge and made my way down the sand and gravel path until we were about midway between two cars about two hundred feet apart. Better yet, the first car had two people in waders casting a net in the shallow water for bait, which meant they wouldn't be driving past us anytime soon, and the second was packing up a windsurfer and leaving soon, driving away. As soon as I'd pulled to a stop, Marcia was pulling at my zipper, trying to release my erection, hard for the last twenty minutes of the drive.

"Not yet," I said, "my seat doesn't offer enough room. I have to walk around the car to get in your seat and I can't be waving Mr. Happy around like a flag."

"Hurry, Master, damn it."

I turned the car off, got out, looked around a little to ensure we had as much privacy as I thought I did, sauntered around the back of the car like I wasn't in the world's worst rush, opened her door and slid into Marcia's seat which she'd pushed all the way back and lowered the seat back to about a forty-five degree angle. She was crouched in the foot well so I had to be careful not to kick her face or tits, but as soon as I was seated, my shorts were opened and her mouth was over my stalk, sucking away. It wasn't necessary for further hardness, but partly for lubrication and partly because she loved to. I let her suck my tool for a minute, but didn't want this load to go into her mouth.