WBDP - Brianna Delivers Pt. 16

About halfway to Tampa, Chantelle asked me if I was able to drive well while distracted.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I want to suck your cock, Monsieur, but not at the risk of getting in an accident and ending up dead with your severed cock in my mouth."

"I can drive distracted," I said, laughing. "Marcia's given me blow jobs in the car. The trick is to keep your eyes open and let it flow naturally and not try to rush it. Of course, I can't speak to the distractions of others who witness you sucking my cock."

"Bon, Monsieur. I saw a lap throw in the back seat. I shall pull it over me and most people won't notice your cock sucking."

"Go ahead. It's a welcome distraction to the drive."

She turned around and got the small blanket from the back. She pulled down my zipper and extracted my cock, already hard and waiting. She pulled the blanket over herself and her head disappeared into my lap. I noticed she didn't try to take me all the way into her throat, and minimized her up and down motion over my cock. I was already driving with the cruise control on and the freeway was relatively deserted this time on a Sunday morning. It fell to her mostly using her tongue and lips to caress my shaft and the head. Since I'd gotten a lot of rest since my last orgasm, I was soon ready to cum, but wanted to delay the pleasure as long as I could. There was no way I could resist Chantelle's efforts for long and I felt my sperm shoot up my stalk and fill her mouth. I felt her swallowing as my balls emptied, every drop of cream gathered and accounted for. When I felt myself shriveling in her mouth, she sat up, wiping a stray drop from the corner of her mouth and licking it from her fingers. She tucked my cock away and re-zipped my shorts.

"Simply delightful," I said. "You are the second best cock sucker I know."

"Merci, Monsieur. I take it as a high complement you think so. How much farther to Busch Gardens?"

I glanced at the clock on the dash. "About a half hour."

"If I were not restricted by my punishment, I would be able to masturbate to an orgasm."

I knew she was wondering if I would break her ban to enjoy the sight of her fingering herself to an orgasm, but I was wise to slave tricks. "True. Too bad you're being punished."

She smiled at me, "I thought you might be too clever to manipulate into allowing me to cum, but I had to take the chance."

"Of course. Slaves are so needy."

"No more needy than Master's although you are always able to do something about it."

"Touché."

"What you can tell me about Busch Gardens?" Chantelle asked. "I don't know much except they're supposed to have some great roller coasters there."

"It's secondary name is 'The Dark Continent.' It's a combination open air zoo and attraction park. They're heavily invested in conservation. They have some endangered white rhinos, orangutans and tigers. Lot's of antelope, water buffalo, zebras, hippos and giraffes. The non-carnivorous herbivores pretty much have the run of what they call the Serengeti Plain. They have a train around the periphery of it and a Sky Ride over the top of it. They have three roller coasters Marcia and I love to ride, the Sheikra, whose claim to fame is a 90 foot drop straight down and another one of shorter height. The seats are staggered in steps, so even the people in the back get the effect of dropping into space. The Montu is a suspended coaster we like almost as much and the Cheetah Hunt is a new ride they opened about a year ago. It shoots you right out at the start, as if you were a Cheetah. Zero to seventy miles per hour in two seconds. It's probably our second favorite right now, maybe close to first, although that one big drop on the Sheikra is such a blast. Marcia almost always closed her eyes on the drop until I ridiculed her enough to finally keep them open.

"There are also the Kumba, which generally I find too loud and too jerky, snapping my neck all of the time, and the Cobra's Curse which is okay, but not up to the thrills of the others. They also have a drop tower of over three hundred feet called the Falcon's Fury, and the two water rides, the Congo River Ride and the Stanley Falls Flume Ride. Marcia never liked going around the park wet, so she never cared much for the water rides, which I would have gone on more with company. If Marcia and I get a season pass, we try to do everything on one of the trips, but spend every other time we go riding the roller coasters. Five or six in a row on one, move onto another and another five or so there, then on to the next. One day, when the crowds were light, Marcia and I got to ride the Sheikra seven straight times without lengthy wait times. I think we made fifteen coaster rides with only the time eating lunch and the ride on the train or Skyride to get between them. We tried to skip the heat of the summer like it is now, which might make the water rides more enjoyable. They also have shows, shopping and assorted other displays."

"What would you recommend we do today, Monsieur?"

"Since you haven't been before, try to do as much as you can. It's a great park and has a lot of good stuff to see. We'll get Quick Queue's for all the rides so we don't have to wait in line, and we'll get on the feeding safari where they take you out in open bed trucks to feed all the grass eaters. The giraffes will come right out to the truck for lettuce leaves. Don't let them lick your face, though."

"Why not?" Chantelle asked.

"Because they pick their noses with their tongue, so it's kind of disgusting. I wouldn't kiss you after one licked you until you had a chance to wash your face."

Chantelle laughed. "You lick my pussy, Monsieur. How is kissing my booger face any worse?"

I laughed with her. "I don't know, except I like cunt and I'm not fond of boogers. Just saying. Do you think you want barbecue or standard American fare for lunch?"

"I don't know, Monsieur. Do I have to make up my mind now?"

"I makes a difference about how we go through the park and where we want to end up at lunch time since they're at opposite ends of the park. The Serengeti Overlook restaurant is near the Montu, Cheetah Hunt and one of the Skyride terminals near the Egypt section of the park. The Zambia Smokehouse is near the Sheikra and Stanley River Flume."

"Do you have a preference, Monsieur?"

"Unless I have my heart set on barbecue, the Overlook restaurant usually has more choice. If we eat there, we'll be set up to do the feeding trip, which leaves nearby, and there's usually an ice show right before the park closes at a nearby theater."

"Then let's eat there, Monsieur. It sounds fine."

We had a wonderful time at the Gardens, going on almost every ride meant for adults in the Park. Waiting lines were usually less than ten minutes which wasn't bad. As we didn't get wet enough on the Congo River Rapids, we rode it twice to get thoroughly drenched as it was a hot day and it felt good. Her face didn't get licked by the giraffe, so I was happy to lick it for her, especially when she got a little ice cream on it. In one of the shops near the exit, I found an outfit I wanted her to try on. I thought it would be perfect for the trip to Key West.

"You'll look like a Nubian princess. Try it on."

She found one in her size and found a dressing room. Chantelle came out of the dressing room and she looked perfect. The material was an African motif, bright colors emphasizing the tones of her skin. The collar was a wide gold band on the front which looked like a necklace. Below the band, much of the top of her bosom was bared, though it covered everything. The skirt portion looked like a wraparound on the bottom, although it was a false wraparound, sewn together. It left a slit on her left side which opened as she walked, baring the leg to mid thigh.

"Look at you!" I exclaimed. "You look good enough to eat."

"If only I was not being punished, Monsieur; you could."

"Not much longer now, unless you should do something to disappoint me, like refuse this dress. I want you to wear it on Tuesday," I said. To the clerk, "We'll take this please."

"Merci, Monsieur. It is lovely. I shall enjoy it."

She changed back into her other clothes. When she came out of the dressing room, she handed me her bathing suit parts. I looked at her; she had a wide grin on her face.

"What's this for?"

"We're leaving the park. I will not be getting wet anymore and do not need to worry about flashing children."

All of which meant she was in all her natural glory beneath the light pink blouse and short pleated yellow skirt she was wearing. I could the darker area of her areolae and nipples beneath the blouse, which were poking provocatively out.

"You're dangerously beautiful," I said.

She gave me a slight curtsy. "How nice of you to say, Monsieur."

Chantelle handed the purchase to the clerk and she rang it up, smiling at us. I asked for another bag for the swim suit, still slightly damp from our water rides. We found a place to eat on our way back to the freeway, not too far from the main University of South Florida campus, so it looked to be a college hang out. Chantelle got a lot of stares from star gazed young men and some envious looks from some of the women, although one woman looked at her with a more meaningful hunger. I recognized the look as lust, pure and simple. She was seated alone, a somewhat scruffy looking white kid college girl, but pretty enough in her way. Leaving Chantelle in the booth for the moment, I approached her.

"I saw you looking at us. Would you like to join us?"

"No, thanks. I'm a gold star lesbian."

"I'm unfamiliar with the term. Could you enlighten me?"

"It means I don't do dick. I've never done dick, and I never want to do dick."

"Okay," I said. "I don't understand what that has to do with joining us at our table. I'm not looking to fuck you."

She looked up at me, inquisitive. "For real?"

"No. We're not even staying in Tampa past supper. We've got a long drive ahead of us. You were alone and I could see you were entranced by my friend. Why sit over here staring when you can sit next to her?"

"You're not looking for some kind of threesome with your twisted up bitch there?"

"Well, bitch seems harsh and I always assumed twisted up meant drunk and high at the same time and she's neither, and I don't want a threesome. My wife wouldn't like it. What do you mean?"

"A woman who can't make up her mind if she's into cock or cunt. She's giving off a gay vibe, but she's with you. She's not your wife?"

"Not my wife, no. My wife is in California at the moment. Chantelle is a friend and definitely into both, but I don't look at it like it's a problem. She's doubled her chances of a date on Saturday night. If you aren't interested, you're not. No biggie. Just thought I'd ask." I turned to go.

She put her hand on my arm. "Seriously, you don't want sex?"

"Nope. I have all the sex I need. Like I said, we're just here for supper, then we have to go."

"Okay, but I'm sitting next to her and if you try any shit, I scream my lungs out. If you roofie me or something, I'll cut off your balls."

"Ouch. Well I can guarantee you won't be roofied by us. Look; I know we live in crazy times. Join us or not, your choice, no pressure. Have a bite to eat, we're gone."

"What's your name?"

"Sam. My friend is Chantelle. What's yours?"

"Stacy."

"Okay, Stacy. You coming or not?"

She got out of her booth and followed me to ours, sitting beside Chantelle, sliding fairly close. I chuckled to myself.

"We've never eaten here," I said, picking up the menu. "Do you have any recommendations as to what we should eat, Stacy?"

"The pizza is pretty good."

"What do you like on yours?"

"I like the Hawaiian, ham and pineapple."

I looked at Chantelle and she shrugged, why not.

"Fine," I said. "Do you mind if we put a little onion on half?"

"No."

"Do you want a salad with yours?"

"Sure. They're nothing special, but fine."

"You don't mind if I pay, do you? I wouldn't want to step on your toes."

"I'm a student. Take a guess?"

"Stacy. You seem hostile. Why? You don't have to be here. We're not forcing you into anything."

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand your gig. What's your deal?"

"Our deal is we spent the day at Busch Gardens because Chantelle has never been there and we like to ride roller coasters, and we have to get back to Fort Myers tonight. We had to eat; we stopped here. You were sitting by yourself with a look I'd describe as lust on your face. Rather than you eat over there, all by yourself, staring at Chantelle, I decided to ask if you'd like to sit next to her. That's our deal. That's the only deal. Finis, done, over and out. No need for hostility."

Stacy looked to Chantelle for confirmation. "Monsieur is honest and honorable. He has no other agenda," she said.

The waitress took our order. Chantelle and I got diet colas; Stacy got a 7-Up to go with the pizza. The drinks arrived on the echo.

"Okay, so what's your deal with him?" Stacy asked Chantelle.

"We are friends. His wife asked me to stay here with him until his house closes and he can join her in California."

"She doesn't mind a smoking hot babe stays with her husband while she's three thousand miles away?"

"Apparently not," Chantelle replied, "because I am here at her request. In fact, she had to give up something for me to be here. You think I am smoking hot?"

I gave Chantelle a warning glance. Chantelle nodded as she caught the glance.

"What did she give up?" Stacy asked, "and of course you're hot. You're the only reason I came over."

"Something very personal to her," Chantelle responded, "and thank you for the complement."

"Are you gay?"

"I like girls, but I like men on occasion, too."

"So, you wouldn't mind if I did this?" Stacy reached across her body with her right hand stroked Chantelle's cheek before pulling her into a soft kiss. Chantelle returned the kiss completely.

When it broke, she smiled and said, "No. I do not mind at all." Stacy looked at me. I didn't care.

Stacy turned to me. "Are you one of those guys who gets off on watching women have sex?"

"I certainly enjoy watching women have sex, but I'm not particularly a voyeur. I would much prefer to participate if given a choice," I responded. "As I said, it's not our purpose today. We're not looking for sex."

"Why's your wife in California?"

"She's starting school tomorrow."

"She's going to college?"

"Police Academy. She's been hired by the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Office."

"How old is she?"

"Thirty-five."

"Kind of old to be starting out as a police officer, isn't she?"

"She's changing locations. She's a police officer now. All new California officers have to go to their academy. The laws are different between California and Florida."

She turned to Chantelle again. "Do you live in Florida?"

"No. I live in Los Angeles as well."

"What do you do?" Stacy asked Chantelle.

"I cook some, but I primarily work as a model for my employer, Brianna's Baubles."

"I've heard of them. And you," she asked me, "do you have a job or do you live off your wife?"

"I work in investments," I said. "I suppose you could say I work for Brianna's Baubles, too, but more for Brianna than the Baubles. I get the impression you don't much like men."

"You could say that. I've never met one I had much use for," Stacy replied. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Why should I? It's your life. You're the one who has to live it. Must be hard to have all that hostility inside, though."

Stacy visibly relaxed the set of her shoulders. She'd been fairly tensed before. The waitress brought our salads, our pizza and some plates. We all started to eat.

"Why did you call Sam, Monsieur, earlier?" Stacy asked.

"It's a term of endearment and respect," Chantelle replied. "It's French for sir."

"You call him, sir, in French? Where are you originally from?"

"I call him Monsieur sometimes, though not often in public. I am from Guadeloupe, in the Caribbean. It's a French speaking island. English is my second language."

"Why do you call him, sir, even if it is in French?"

"Well," Chantelle said. "He is older than me. Do you not give respect to your elders?"

"Hey," I said. "Elders? I'm what, fourteen years older than you?" I knew why she called me Monsieur.

They both laughed.

"Say something else in French," Stacy asked.

"Tu es une jolie fille. J'aimerais te baiser."

"Nice. What's it mean?"

"You are a pretty girl. I would like to fuck you."

She looked at Chantelle in shock. Stacy turned to me. "Is she serious? Or was she just saying it?"

"I'm reasonably certain she spoke seriously, but like I said, we're not here for sex. What she'd like to do and what she can do are two very different things."

"Monsieur, a moment of your time, please," Chantelle said.

"If you'll excuse us a moment, Stacy. I need to remind Chantelle we don't have time to fool around."

Stacy got up and let Chantelle out of the booth and she and I stepped away ten feet away.

"What are you doing, Chantelle? We don't have time for this. And you still can't have an orgasm for two more hours."

"If I am any judge, I can give her an orgasm in no more than five minutes. I can do it in the ladies room after we are done eating. I will not have one myself. You can wait in the car for me. It is nothing, no time at all. I will make it worth your while later."

"You would make it worth my while regardless, slave."

"Oui, Monsieur, you know I would, but let me do this. She obviously wants me."

I looked at Stacy. I'm sure she was wondering what the hell we were talking about, but she was definitely interested.

"Fine. What the fuck. But if it takes you longer than five minutes, you'll do another day without an orgasm."

"I understand, Monsieur."

We both went back to the booth and Chantelle slipped in beside her. Chantelle whispered something in Stacy's ear, then kissed her, passionately. Her hands were doing something under the table and soon, Stacy's hands were doing the same. This went on for a couple minutes, then both of them started eating again, though it seemed to me they were eating faster.

We finally finished eating. The two women stood up.

"Excuse us, sir," Stacy said. "We have to visit the ladies room."

That was pretty saucy, calling me 'sir', but it was cute nonetheless. I nodded and as soon as they were gone from the table, I started a timer for five minutes.

A guy in his late twenties came by the table. "Can't hold onto your woman, buddy, and to a dyke, too."

I looked up at him. What a shit hole.

"She's not my woman. I'm married to someone else and what she does is none of your damn fucking business even if she was." I stood up. I was three inches taller and all the work I'd put in the last couple years hadn't all gone to losing weight. He backed up and looked back at his table where two more of his friends were sitting. "Don't look at them, asshole. I'll flatten you before they even stand up. Go crawl back to your cave and keep your fucking mouth shut." I was pissed and my tone of voice made it clear. He went back to his booth.

I picked up the check and went up to the cashier and paid. Before my timer went off, Chantelle and Stacy returned. Chantelle was wiping her face with a towel. The little slut.

We all walked back to the car. Stacy asked if she could get Chantelle's number in case she ever came out to California. Chantelle gladly acquiesced.

I said, "Stacy, there are three neanderthals in the restaurant who were making a stink about you and Chantelle. I wouldn't feel right leaving you here with them. Can we drop you off anywhere?"

"I live close, if you don't mind."

"No. I'd prefer it. I don't trust them at all."