Maybe Tomorrow

Those of you who read 'The Numbers Girl' may be wondering just who the heck Kathleen is... Well, here ya go!

Jonathon and I were that icky sweet couple you always hated being around growing up. You know the pair; that insipid, syrupy couple in high school so much in love you’d be forgiven thinking we were joined at the hip. That was us, that excruciatingly annoying couple always rubbing noses and talking baby talk in the hallways. That disgustingly so much in love couple holding hands and snuggling together, stealing kisses on the bus ride all the way home. You know: That couple. Yuck!

We moved in together our second year in college, and to this day I’ve no clear idea how he ever managed to talk me into that instead of getting married. Mom had a fit over it and I thought poor Daddy would explode. They still like to bring it up now and again. It’s sort of that big club now they take out of the closet sometimes and pound me with when they think I’m being foolish or hasty about something. They mean well of course, all in the name of good parenting.

Funny, how it’s not that big a club anymore, but I’d never let them know that. I wouldn’t want them to find an even bigger one, all in that same name of good parenting. They’ve done enough of that, thank you very much, and there are plenty bigger clubs out there now, if they only knew where to find them.

I worked at this cute restaurant while in college and Jonathon blithely went on to medical school. Now, I can’t say I actually put him through medical school or anything like that, but wouldn’t that be the perfect melodrama? His parents took out a second mortgage and paid for almost all of it in fact. And they really are some of the best people ever. I still like them.

But I sure as bees make honey made his life a whole lot simpler and much more pleasant than the typical medical student could ever expect. He had a cozy place to live without having to work and someone to basically wait on him hand and foot all the time. He really is very lazy, by the way. And he had a more than willing and enthusiastically daring bed partner, I might add. Life was good for Jonathon, no doubt about that.

I graduated with a business degree and found myself actually managing First Bar somehow. I remember starting there as a shy waitress which was fun, then tending bar which I positively loved, then running the kitchen which I absolutely abhored but muddled through anyway. It was all excellent hands-on experience that meshed perfectly with what I was being taught in college. Somehow I had learned the ridiculous place inside-out, and with a little hard work and know-how, actually made it shine.

The owners, way up in New York, just loved what I was doing with the place and threw tons of money our way, but otherwise kept pretty quiet. It was all fine and dandy and First Bar flourished and profited for it. We have a cast of regulars now that any bar would dream to have, even imaginary TV bars, and we do a fantastic business the whole year around. The location is just awesome and beautiful people flock here in droves, not minding a bit waiting for their tables. It really is a very special place and I have one of the best jobs in the whole world, perfectly suited for me.

But I was becoming more than a little discontent in some ways back then. Life was missing something somehow, though I could never quite put my finger on exactly what. Jonathon was almost casually going through medical school while I worked at the bar and tirelessly kept our home, and life just sort of continued. Good days and bad, just sort of going on and on.

Sadly, it seemed the bad days began outnumbering the good ones. I began thinking more and more about marriage and babies while Jonathon was thinking more and more about classes and internal medicine. I began to feel a little taken advantage of, and even worse as time went by, taken for granted. And it just went on and on without getting any better for the longest time.

It began to seem as if I was just the one who did the laundry, the one who got up first to make the coffee, the one who did the shopping. Just the one who did the dishes, paid the bills, walked the dog, all that nonsense. It was like he could hardly see me anymore except for any of that. I was there, but then again, I always was, wasn’t I? I was just there. If he saw me at all, it began to seem like an accident. And it dragged on and on, until I just couldn’t stand it anymore, and finally confronted him about it. I gave him those four little words guys hate most: “We need to talk.”

Jonathon was into his residency by then and rarely had time for any serious talk any more, even if he would have been interested. That didn’t stop me though. I told him exactly how I was starting to feel; that not only was he beginning to act like he was the only guy on Earth who would marry me, but he also seemed to think he was the only guy on Earth who would even date me. And that’s just exactly how I was feeling, small and used. I didn’t like it at all and was going to put a stop to it, if I could.

He pooh-poohed the idea as nonsense but didn’t make me feel any better about it, which was a big mistake. He didn’t even try to make me feel better. He just argued that it wasn’t so, and that I was just being emotional, as always, and then he rolled his eyes like he was just being so put upon. Big mistake. It finally got to where it was going to go all along. I suppose it was kind of inevitable. I asked him to move out, and to call me when he was ready to take me and our relationship more seriously.

I don’t know if he was shocked, stunned, or what, but he quietly began packing his things. And I started to cry. Maybe I was being emotional. So he moved out while I watched, sobbing from the couch. That door closing for the final time was the single most hollow boom I had ever heard. And I cried some more. And then I waited for him to call. And waited some more.

It wasn’t until I saw him all over this blonde floozy that I realized he wasn’t going to call at all. How could this have happened? All I was trying to do was get things back to the way they were before, when we were both happy and looking forward to our life together, just like we’d always planned! What did I do that was so wrong? And what can that bimbo possibly have that I don’t?

In all fairness though, as much as I don’t want to, I have to back up a little. I can’t really call Jamie a floozy, or even really blame her all that much for that matter. If I look back at it objectively, and goodness knows looking at any of this objectively is difficult for me, I can’t really even say she’s that much of a bimbo. I actually know her somewhat and we have some mutual friends.

By all accounts she’s really a sweet girl and is very well liked by everyone. She does date around quite a bit, but that doesn’t exactly make her a bimbo or even that much of a floozy. It’s just dating my boyfriend that does that, I guess. She’s a real nightmare for a girl who has a boyfriend with a wandering eye, though. Slender, pretty and tan, great legs and long, gorgeous blonde hair. And that cute little button nose of hers makes her look just so sexy and innocent at the same time. She’s always happy and fun to be around, at least for some people. Absolutely everyone likes her, including my boyfriend apparently. A real nightmare.

And who can blame her for wanting to go out with a handsome and charming young doctor-to-be anyway? In all honesty, none of this is her fault, not really. And she actually dumped Jonathon a while back, so I shouldn’t bear her a grudge. But it’s been really, really hard for me to be anything more than cooly civil with her for the longest time. That’s really kind of a shame too, because she does seem kind of nice. I just can’t help it. I hope Jonathon enjoys his freedom now, the asshole.

Realizing it was actually over for Jonathon and me was more than devastating though. It seemed like all my life I had been Jonathon’s girlfriend. I’d been like some kind of Disney housewife with none of the perks or any of the credits, and now I was this tiny little extra with no part left to play. I felt as if I didn’t have any identity at all. I was alone, afraid because of that, and above all, confused.

I was really and truly on my own for the very first time in my life. I was absolutely crushed by it all and became totally depressed. I cried myself to sleep at night then stumbled through the day like a broken doll, just going through the motions until I could go home and cry some more. I was wretched, pathetic, and I wallowed in a dark world of self pity and self loathing. Oh, I never thought about anything stupid like hurting myself or anything like that, thank goodness. But it felt like I wouldn’t have had the energy to move out of the way of an oncoming bus if I had to. Or even bring myself to care enough to for that matter. I was mess and I hated it. But even worse, I hated myself for all of it.

And then, a funny thing happened. I began to get angry; really angry with Jonathon, and angry with Jamie. But most of all, angry with myself. Really, really angry with myself. It was all that anger that finally pulled me out of my depression. I became filled with this frustrated, furious energy that made me feel like I was going to burst into flame, and it eventually snapped me out of it. I wasn’t going to just lie down and cry about any of this anymore. I was hopping mad at myself, ready to do something about it and just get over it so I could just move on, and just get the heck on with my life!

And so, sort of like Forrest Gump, I ran. I don’t mean I took off across the country or anything as showy as all that. But I took up running with quite a passion. When I ran I could just let my mind go sort of blank and work off that excess energy, that anger. And I actually even began to sleep some nights without crying, or thinking too much about Jamie, or about Jonathon.

When the weather was bad I would work out at the gym, lifting and pumping the heaviest weights I could manage until I was exhausted, all the time wondering if that blonde bitch squealed when she was cumming while my boyfriend fucked her. Not that I was bitter or anything, mind you. But I kept pumping, lifting, working through that rage. And sometimes I was able to sleep.

When working out got tedious I took aerobics, stretching and venting my fury until that anger finally left Jamie and me alone, as it should be. And in my mind’s eye I could finally calmly keep from scratching her eyes out when I saw her there. But I couldn’t let myself off the hook just yet. I was still angry with ‘Me’. So I kept reaching deeper, stretching farther. But I could sleep most nights now.

Every spare minute of the day, I was doing something physical, wearing myself out just so I could sleep that night. Eventually, I came to realize that Jamie isn’t exactly the bitch I sometimes gave her credit for being. She’s just another girl, like me, doing the best she can to get along as well as she knows how. It’s probably not her fault she met the same asshole I did. Probably not.

And she has a pretty smile too, so bless her, I guess. Maybe someday I’d even tell her that, maybe someday when I could stop grinding my teeth at just the sight of her. Jonathon, on the other hand, could still go to Hell for all I cared. I wasn’t quite ‘there’ yet. At least I wasn’t so angry with Jamie, or even ‘Me’ that much anymore. And I was finally able to sleep.

Along the way an even funnier thing began to happen. My body began to change. I can’t say I lost a lot of weight, because I didn’t, exactly, maybe a couple of pounds here and there. The weight I did have just sort of, well, moved, I guess. That’s the only way I can describe it. I became really fit and trim, firm and tight. I’ve always had a nice figure, thank you very much. I grew up in the country, quite at home with the outdoors and plenty of hard work and exercise. We always ate simple, healthful foods with lots of home grown vegetables and all that good stuff. So I was never fat by any stretch of the imagination. I’ve just never been heroin addict skinny either.

But I had an athlete’s body now, and I looked really good. I became aware of my body like I’d never been before, and I really, really began to like what I saw in the mirror. This new awareness of my own body sort of led me to become aware of other girls’ bodies too, in some rather new and startling ways.

I’m not exactly sure how all that started, and at first it shocked and embarrassed me no end. But I soon got over it and began to admire a soft and shapely feminine form for what it is, without going red all over. That eventually led to some really very steamy fantasies that shouldn’t ever be in the head of a preacher’s daughter like me, and I found I couldn’t sleep at night now for a totally different reason! And that came with a whole new set of frustrations altogether.

I remember once going to pick up a gift for a friend’s baby shower. I was strolling through the store and sort of wandered aimlessly into the toy aisles. There, I saw this doll that I remembered so desperately wanting when I was a little girl, but never got. I was amazed they still made it and even more amazed that I still wanted it. Sounds kind of silly for an adult to want a toy so, but I did. I thought it was silly too, then, and was just putting it back when it hit me: 'Hey! I’m a grown-up now, an adult. I can have this doll if I want it. I can get it myself!' I still have it.

My fantasies were a little like that, I think. At first they were just that; fantasies of other girls, harmless and mostly nothing to be concerned about. But they eventually became a sort of longing I knew would never become real, just totally out of the question. And that was very, very frustrating to me. Somewhere along the way I realized again that I’m a grown-up, and just like buying that doll, I can and do make my own decisions. It’s okay for me to sleep with another girl if I want to!

And I realized that I very much wanted to. To say that I was curious would have been laughable. I was so curious I could explode. It was much, much more than that. I was convinced. Trouble was, I had no earthly idea how one went about this sort of thing. Literally all my sexual experience had been with Jonathon. I had no idea how to do this totally new, totally sexy thing, only that I was definitely going to.

And eventually, I began taking it a little easier on all the exercise. I’d worked through most of my anger by then and didn’t really need that release anymore, at least not that kind of release anyway. But I still kept running. I found that I actually liked being alone with my thoughts now, and I found I really liked the shape I was in too, so I kept at it pretty regularly.

There’s a terrific park just a little east of First Street with ball fields, playgrounds, plenty of squirrels for your dog to chase and lots of open space for kids and adults to run and play, or just idly pass the time together if that’s what they want. There’s a little hiking trail that goes up into some small hills and twists and turns throughout the whole park, and there’s a ‘par course’ that more or less parallels that. Basically, it’s a running trail that follows the contours of the hills and every so often the runner stops and performs an exercise with the equipment permanently placed there. It’s mostly light cardio-type stuff with some light calisthenics thrown in. The idea is to time yourself and keep improving your time and performance with each run.

Well, I absolutely devour that course. It’s funny sometimes watching the men run it. There’s supposed to be a kind of etiquette runners are encouraged to follow when the course is busy, not that it ever really is. But some guys mostly throw that out the window when a woman is involved. I guess they can’t stand the idea of letting a girl run through, and sometimes I get slowed down waiting for some middle-aged chauvinist with a beer belly to finish his pull-ups and move along, only to wait again at the next station, and then the next. Such manly men could never allow a mere woman through!

They aren’t all like that, though. Some of the older guys are very polite about it. They’re just out for the exercise and couldn’t care less that a young woman might be a little better at it. And some of the younger guys are more than happy to watch while they wait the short time it takes me to move along. I’m admittedly kind of a show-off, so I like letting them watch, and even ham it up sometimes.

One guy was always particularly nice about it. He never flirted and didn’t ogle or anything, like some of the other guys. He always had a friendly ‘hello’ and then a polite ‘goodbye’ as I moved along. I knew him vaguely. He came into the bar sometimes and I’d see him out at other places now and then on First Street too. I didn’t know his name or anything, just a nodding acquaintance. He’s cute in a quiet, friendly way.

It began to be kind of a familiar routine. I’m a creature of habit, as well as a show-off, and almost always ran at the same time every day. Apparently, so did he. It seemed we began to meet at the same secluded piece of equipment almost every day. I decided I’d better check this guy out to make sure he wasn’t stalking me or anything and watched him finish his run a few times. He didn’t seem to bother any of the girls. He’d just finish the course and go his merry little way. I asked around and no one had any scarey stories to tell about him. So I kept it friendly and continued my running. He was always nice and polite, and still kind of cute. And it was always kind of fun letting him watch.

I had yet to do anything about my newfound sexual desires, though. I still didn’t know what to do about them if truth be told. It’s not like girls wore signs or anything and I had no idea how to make myself available. I didn’t know what to do, only that someday I would. But my fantasies at night began to take on a great deal more detail, and I found I had quite the kinky side to myself. I should blush at all the outlandish things I imagined, but I don’t at all any more. I went further and further almost every night in my fantasies and sometimes, just before I’d fall asleep, I’d hear myself say, ‘Maybe tomorrow’.

Well, all that sexual tension needed more release than what my busy fingers could provide, and I’m ashamed to say I took it out on that nice guy on the course. I found myself wearing more revealing running outfits, and stretching and pulling a little more than was strictly necessary as he watched me go through my routine. He’d try not to stare at first, but I’d make plenty of eye contact as I’d exaggerate my movements and shamelessly show off my body until he couldn’t help but stare. And then I’d move on, feeling his eyes touching my ass like they would grab if they could, until I disappeared down the hill. Horrible of me, I know, the poor guy.

And my fantasies at night began to take on even more lurid detail. The girls in them began to take much clearer shape, even faces sometimes. I’d close my eyes and run my hands all over my naked body as each girl entered my dreamworld and did her particular thing, sometimes more than one at a time! My eyes bolted open one night when I saw Jamie’s face, but oddly, my hands kept moving on their own. This was getting way out of hand. How could I possibly think anything like that? About her of all people? But there it was. I’d force myself to think about something else, or nothing at all, and try to sleep. ‘Maybe tomorrow’ kept echoing in my head as I’d drift off.

And the next day that poor guy on the course would pay for it. Once, I let my breasts slip out of a loose tank top and kept right up with my exercise, watching his eyes the whole time. I kept my eyes glued on him to let him know I knew what he was seeing, and finishing up, made a big show of tucking my girls back in. For the first time, I spoke as I ran slowly on. “Like what you see, Sweetie? Maybe tomorrow you’ll see more.” I blew him a kiss and ran to the next station. He looked pole-axed, the poor guy, and I was gone before he could say a word.

My fantasies at night continued to become even more vivid and detailed, and as much as I tried to stop her, Jamie kept showing up in them. What’s wrong with Jennifer or Angelina, or maybe Janet or Alicia? If I absolutely had to have a blonde, Britney would be a fine one, wouldn’t she? But, no! It was becoming more than disturbing.

And that poor guy on the course paid for all that. One sunny day I actually pulled the leg of my shorts to the side. I’d long since stopped wearing any underwear and his eyes grew wide as his face when he saw my naked pussy. I teased a couple of nails between my wet lips so he could see all the better and arched my back for him so my top stretched tightly across my full breasts. My excited nipples were clearly visible through the thin material, and for the first time he took a step toward me. I was off and running before he could take another, though. “Ah ah ah!” I teased, wagging my finger faster as the inflection of each syllable went up. “Maybe tomorrow you’ll see more,” I sang, and blew him a kiss on the way by. That poor guy.

After he understood my never quite spoken ground rules, I really began showing off for him. He’d lean against a wooden rail that was there for runners to stretch and keep warm while they waited, pointedly sitting on his hands, watching lustfully as I’d put on a sexier show for him almost every day.

One day after my routine, instead of running off like I normally would, I slowly walked toward him. I pushed my tank top between my breasts and held each full globe in a hand. I smiled devilishly at him as I slowly strutted closer and pulled one hard nipple to my mouth. I moaned dramatically for him as I circled my tongue around it and slowly pulled it in, sucking sweetly and groaning loudly as I watched his eyes. I walked really close to him and leaned even closer.

“You like these, don’t you Baby?” He squirmed and tried to look me in the eyes instead of at my hands sliding over my breasts. But that was impossible for him as I pulled my other breast to my lips right in front of his face, and with the tip of my wet tongue, slowly circled that stiff nipple too. “Is your cock hard right now?” I whispered as I slid my tongue from one breast to the other, lifting them and smiling at him as I’d glide it back and forth. “Wouldn’t you love to slide that big, hard thing between my tits right now? ‘Till you cum all over me?” I pretended to have a little orgasm at the thought of it and licked my lips while I groaned. “I’d like that too, Baby. You can cum in my mouth too. I just love hot cum.”

I took both my breasts more firmly in hand, squeezing them together, and slid my tongue from nipple to nipple slowly, licking all over both breasts and swallowing a big load of imaginary cum. He groaned out loud but still sat on his hands and even leaned back a little. I almost really did have an orgasm!

His cock was making a more than noticeable tent in his shorts as he just gulped, staring at me, sitting on his hands. I thought I’d better move along then, before this got too much out of hand. Like it hadn’t already! “Maybe tomorrow,” I whispered, my lips just inches from his. I blew him a slow kiss and then even more slowly, turned and jogged away. That poor, poor guy.

If I tortured him during the day, well, Jamie tortured me at night. I gave up trying to keep her out. In my ever more vivid fantasies it was always her gorgeous legs I was between, and her pretty face smiling up at me from between mine. It was her shapely ass I’d be caressing and her hands I’d feel all over mine. Those were her luscious lips I was kissing and her body next to mine. It was unbearable!

I found myself looking at her at the bar, sneaking glances when she wasn’t looking, trying to ignore her and failing miserably. I would have been mortified if anyone knew what I was thinking and sometimes it probably seemed like I was being hostile. I really wasn’t, not at all. I was just doing my best not to pay attention to her; that sexy smile, that pretty hair, that gentle curve of her body when she bends just so, that great ass, those gorgeous legs. My goodness! It was driving me so crazy!

And that poor guy on the course paid more and more for it almost every day. I doubt he minded too awfully much though. Especially the day I actually got off in front of him. I started with some sit-ups on the incline, rubbing my breasts with both hands as I rose and fell, pinching my nipples until they actually poked through my mesh top. Both stood out like little peaks on my big curves and I’d give soft little moans as I continued my workout under his lust filled eyes.

My knees were bent and my feet flat, and my legs spread, just so. That poor guy had exactly the right angle to see between my thighs, my tight little half shorts pulling and stretching between my opening lips with each rise and fall. It must have been hard for him to decide which to watch: me fondling and squeezing my large, full breasts, or my naked, wet pussy slowly coming into view with each up and down.

I decided for him. I spread my legs just a little more and slipped my hands slowly down my stomach, then between my thighs. I moaned a little louder as I rose again, and used my hands to spread my legs even more and lay back slowly, my eyes burning into his as I arched my back a little.

I didn’t rise up, but let my fingers pull my shorts aside and begin to play. It was astonishing how wet I was. I hadn’t thought about a guy in what seemed like years, but here I was, dripping wet and playing with myself in front of one I didn’t really even know. And I played, moaning out loud as I dipped my fingers inside myself, spreading my thighs more so he could watch it all.

I took my feet off the incline and spread my legs wider and smiled, my fingers moving in and out faster as I went deeper and added more fingers. I knew I was going to bring myself off quickly and moved even faster. It was such a turn on having this guy watch me and I was really getting off on it.

I turned over and pulled my shorts over one hip so he could see more of my ass, quickly sliding my fingers back into my soaking wet pussy. I rolled my hips in circles as I got myself off like I never had before. I heard that poor guy moan with me as I started to cum and that got me off even more. I twisted my hips and rolled my ass as four fingers opened and closed inside my dripping wet cunt. I panted and groaned as my orgasm rolled through me, and that poor guy watched it all as I shook and came.

I finally lay back down on the incline for a long moment, then sensuously rose the way a cat will after a nice long nap. I looked over my shoulder smiling, then turned and got up as gracefully as I could. Slowly walking to him I pulled the side of my shorts open again and teased my wet lips with a nail as I stepped closer.

“Did you like that, Honey? Wouldn’t you love some of this sweet, wet pussy?” I was close enough now that I took my fingers and teased them just under his nose. My lips were just close enough to lick my fingers right in front of his. He could smell my pussy on my fingers as I slowly licked dragged my tongue over them and he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply and sighing. “Sorry, Baby,” I pouted. His eyes were riveted on mine when I spoke again. “This pussy’s just for my girlfriend.” He groaned out loud at that, and I pressed his buttons a little more. “Does that turn you on, Sweetie? She’s a gorgeous blonde and looks so good between my thighs. And her pussy is even sweeter than mine.”

I looked down my body until I was sure his eyes had followed, and slowly eased my fingers around my wet lips again. “These lips are for her,” I whispered, bringing my wet fingers back to my mouth, rolling them over my lips like gloss, waiting for his eyes to return to mine. “But these lips are mine,” I whispered again when they finally did, licking my wet lips slowly as he moaned and leaned farther back on his rail. “Maybe tomorrow,” I circled my lips fully with my tongue again, moaning a little, “They’ll be yours.” I blew him a soft, close kiss and slowly turned, and was gone. That poor guy.

It wasn’t until I was on my way home that I realized I’d made my imaginary girlfriend a blonde. And so it was I who paid for that. That night in my fantasies Jamie and I spent the whole night together doing the kinkiest things imaginable as I panted and moaned, getting no sleep at all. Seeing her at the bar the next day would always fill me with the most conflicting of emotions. My goodness, how I wanted her! I had finally admitted that to myself, even in the daylight. But no way was this ever going to happen. She’d stolen my boyfriend for goodness’ sake! Well, she didn’t exactly steal him, I guess. But I kept telling that inner voice or whatever it was to just shut up, and tried to stop watching her every move or overhear her every word. But that little voice kept yacking at me, ‘Maybe tomorrow.’

Now and again she would catch me looking and give me a tight, slight smile. A peace offering maybe? I didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. It wasn’t going to happen! I’d busy myself with something else and try not to think about any of it. I’d even hide in the kitchen sometimes when she was there, pretending to help Joy with the salads, or Joe, our happy pizza maker with the dough. I’m sure everyone in the whole bar had to know what was going on by now. I’m positive the kitchen did. But I hoped I wasn’t so obvious that Jamie noticed.

And it shames me how brazenly I took it all out on that poor guy on the course. To his credit, he always followed my never quite spoken rules and very quietly sat on his hands, watching my every move, drinking in the sight of me as I played for him. It was I who broke those rules.

He wasn’t there every day and neither was I. I’d mostly become a fair weather runner by then and couldn’t always make time on the nicer days either. I know the days I didn’t see him, I was curiously disappointed at not finding him there waiting for me. So I can only imagine what went through his mind on the days I didn’t show up. I thought it was going to be one of those days, but just as I was finishing up, I saw him down the trail. He was waving and I saw his jog turn into a near sprint, and that made me laugh a little. I thought that was so cute, so I slowed down and let him catch up.

“You’re late!” I laughed as I stretched one leg on the rail, and making sure he saw plenty of cleavage, leaned my body down to touch my toes on the ground. He groaned and panted a little. He’s in good shape so it wasn’t all from running to catch up.

“Well, there was this Delicious Blonde I caught up to on number three,” he smiled, his hands on his hips as his chest moved up and down. “And it took me two more stations to get by her.” His grin was so guilty and so mischievous at the same time that I believed him instantly, and laughed out loud for almost a full minute. I could just imagine him going from station to station, watching a different girl at each one until his eyes were filled, then jogging to the next performance eagerly. He laughed a little too and took that time to assume his usual place on the rail, sitting politely on his hands.

It was the first time I’d really heard his voice. It’s a nice voice that matches him well, polite and cute at the same time. But it didn’t escape me that he’d said Delicious Blonde. I heard the capital letters, loud and clear. I hadn’t seen him at the bar since we began our little game here, which was kind of another of our not quite spoken rules. But he obviously knew enough about First Bar to know Jamie’s little nickname. Some of the girls like to throw it around when she can’t hear, and I have to admit that it’s just perfect for her. So he came in often enough for that at least. And I remembered teasing him with an imaginary blonde girlfriend. So, was that just an innocent turn of phrase, or was he maybe trying to push my buttons now? It was impossible to tell by the way he was looking at me. He’d caught his breath by now and those were the usual patient yet lustful eyes that ripped the clothes off me nearly every day.

My unrestrained imagination took over in broad daylight and I visualized him gazing at Jamie’s tight body as she went through a workout for him. Then that vision changed, and it was I gazing at her tight body as she stretched and moved for me. Then it changed yet again, and I saw him looking with rapt wonder as the two of us worked out together for an audience of one.

It was then I broke the rules. We actually touched. I leaned against him, pressing my breasts into his arm and sinuously slid between his legs, gliding my hard nipples back and forth over his rising and falling chest. He moved to lift himself off his hands but I quickly leaned back as a warning, giving him a stern look. If rules were going to be broken here, it was only I who would be doing the breaking. He began to speak but I softly placed a finger over his lips, shushing him. He got the message and sat back down on his hands, remaining quiet, frustrated lust filling his eyes. I had to admire his restraint.

“Did she make you hard, Baby?” I whispered, my lips slowly inching closer to his, my warm hand slowly sliding down his flat stomach. “Did she play with her pussy like a little slut? Did she cum for you? Hmm?” My hand slid over the bulge in his shorts and I grasped it gently, stroking slowly up and down his length through the thin material.

My breasts pushed into his chest as I leaned even closer, my warm breath passing over his lips. I slid my hand down his thigh, then up and inside his pant leg. His cock was hard, straining, and I loved the feel of that stiff thing in my hand. It had been far too long for me and I teased my nails up his shaft, circling his head slowly, just loving how wild I was driving this poor guy. I circled his cock with my hand and slowly stroked up and down his length inside his shorts, my fist sliding up and down easily.

“Maybe tomorrow we’ll both cum for you,” I teased, moving my hand a little faster. “Would you like that, Sweetie, watching us both cum together?” I gave his hard cock a long, gentle squeeze and pressed my lips so close to his a single thread couldn’t slide between them. He groaned in hearty disappointment as I let go of his cock, pulling deliberately away and smiling, then he sighed heavily as I jogged slowly down the trail. “Maybe tomorrow,” I told, him running on.

That night my fantasies took on an entirely new and lusty dimension, one I couldn’t stop if I tried, and I did try. Jamie and I sharing a guy, Jamie and I sharing another girl, the two of us the center of attention at one of Renee’s ‘special’ parties, Jamie and I stripping each other for a bunch of guys, then taking them all on together, always Jamie and me, and an imaginary parade of gorgeous men and women, always lusting after the two of us. But always Jamie and me, and always together.

My goodness, it was all becoming too weird. I began thinking that maybe the reason I hadn’t hooked up with another girl had something to do with Jamie. And as I’d see her at the bar, I became more and more convinced that it was so. What in the world was I to do? There are always plenty of beautiful girls coming in and going out of the bar, even plenty I work with there. Why this fascination with the one who stole my boyfriend? Okay, she didn’t steal him exactly, but why her?

With girls like Dawn, Bobbie, Heather, Tammy, Joy - and I could go on and on and on - why was I so wrapped up with Jamie? I couldn’t explain it at all and finally gave up even trying to try. But no way was it ever going to happen, no way. I could barely speak civilly with her, and she hardly ever had more than two words for me. Just no way.

And I made that poor guy on the course really, really pay. Now that I’d broken the rules, I pretty much threw them out the window, at least for myself anyway. And I knew exactly what I was doing too. I have this gorgeous friend I work with who dances at a club across town on some of her nights off. And not one of those sleazy dives either, mind you. It’s actually a very classy place and you’re more likely to see couples there than you would lonely, drunk business men or raving bachelors shoving singles down a mostly naked girl’s g-string.

Some of the regulars from our bar can be found there from time to time, and I’ve actually been with some other girls a few times to see Dawn’s act myself. She even talked me into entering an amateur contest there one night. I didn’t win and Jonathon had a fit over it, the jerk, but I had the greatest time doing it, and wouldn’t mind doing it again sometime.

So, I knew exactly what I was doing to this poor guy when I showed off for him, and I knew exactly what I was doing when I threw those rules out the window too. I’d chosen my outfit with great care that day, very tight running shorts that outlined the curves of my hips and ass almost like a second skin, the tightest, skimpiest sports halter I owned that showed plenty of cleavage and bosom, and nothing else to cover any of that.

I let my hands slide sensuously over my whole body as I stepped slowly closer and closer as he sat in his usual spot. I pressed my hot, nearly naked body closely to him, watching him as he licked his lips. I sighed a little as I slid my full breasts over his body and snuck my hand between his legs, slipping over that bulge and then inside his tight waist band. His eyes grew bigger and he looked surprised, then delighted when I actually pulled his big cock out of his shorts.

Now, Jonathon had always been my frame of reference for penis size. Oh, we’d watched some porno movies together sometimes and I’d read some stories, and even seen some pictures. But Jonathon’s was the only ‘real’ one I had to go by. I’ve since discovered Jonathon is more or less average, and this guy is somewhat bigger than that. And it really felt good in my hand. I’d forgotten how much I missed holding a hard cock like this, so I didn’t have to act like I was enjoying it. I really was.

I teased my other hand down his back with my nails as I pulled him closer, his nose just inches from my cleavage, and my hot thighs almost, but not quite, straddling one of his. I pressed my lips to his ear closely and exaggerated my breathing as my hand began slowly stroking up and down his shaft, and my hips rode up and down his thigh, back and forth, yet never quite touching. His cock was hard and throbbing in my hand and I closed my eyes, throwing my head back so my hair spilled over his knees, pretending to ride his thigh faster and faster.

Sticky, wet pre-cum oozed out of the head of his cock and I spread it up and down his shaft, then reached slowly down to cup his balls. I whispered into his ear as my hand gently moved over him, “Mmm, Baby. Your cock is so big, so hard.” I eased my warm lips down his neck, never quite touching there either, then leaned back a little, pulling his face into my cleavage again, though still not letting him touch me. “Do you wanna cum, Sweetie?” I stroked his cock faster as he pressed himself harder onto his hands, still sitting on the rail. His expression was a lustful grimace and I kept it up, stroking his cock faster. “Do you wanna cum for me? All over me?”

I moaned like that was the sexiest idea I’d ever heard and stroked him even faster, my hand slick with his pre-cum and sliding easily up and down his shaft. He has the restraint of an arch deacon though, so I gripped him harder and got between his legs, squatting a little, rubbing my hard nipples all the way down his flat chest and stomach. He moaned out loud when I looked up smiling and licked my lips in anticipation, pulling his shorts past his thighs. His long cock bounced out so close to my mouth he could feel my warm breath on it. And I used both hands to stroke him faster, so close to my lips.

“Do you want me to use my mouth, Baby?” I sighed again like that was an even better idea and opened it wide for him, slowly pulling his shiny head closer. “Do you want me to suck your big, hard cock for you, Sweetie? Mmm...I love it when a guy cums in my mouth. Do you like that?” His cock was practically bouncing in my hands. I was close enough to see the head swell with his every heartbeat, shiny drops of pre-cum oozing out like tears. And I was getting more and more turned on by it.

I licked my lips again and took his cock gently in the fingertips of both hands, my nails gently grazing his tight skin. Looking up at him, I began sliding and rubbing him over my chest, circling my rock hard nipples with the head of his cock until the fabric of my top was wet and sticky, and my hard nipples looked like shiny pebbles. I slid it a little higher and painted what was showing above my halter with a line of pre-cum and stroked him faster as I did. He was beginning to show real signs of cumming and I seriously thought about bringing him off. The thought of his hot cum spurting all over my tits and in my face was so erotic just then, and I really licked my lips in anticipation.

But I can show restraint too, sometimes. I pulled his shiny head to my mouth, and for the first time ever, softly pressed my lips fully on him. I kissed the head of his cock as he moaned louder than I’d ever heard him before. I thought I had overdone it and closed my eyes waiting for a shower of hot cum, but he kept it together somehow. I will always admire him for that.

“Maybe tomorrow.” I smiled slyly as I used the head of his cock to gloss my lips. I gave his head a feathery little lick, then reluctantly, or reverently maybe, tucked him back into his shorts. I smiled again and blew him a final kiss as I rose and jogged away. That poor guy.

Jonathon called that night. It was late and I was actually sleeping, if you can believe it. He was drunk though, and making no sense at all, and it took me a couple of minutes to even realize it was him on the other end. At first I was furious and really let him have it, screaming months of pent up rage at him at the top of my lungs. But he was really drunk and I don’t think he even heard. He was actually crying, literally blubbering into the phone and sounded so pathetic, that I just hung up. And I went back to sleep, believe it or not. Oddly enough, I didn’t dread seeing Jamie the next day.

She was her usual chipper self when she came in for lunch with some of her friends. She had her hair up and her glasses on, which always makes her look smart yet unbelievably sexy at the same time. I overheard her asking Heather if we were ever going to have the baked spaghetti again, one of my favorite lunch specials that I actually prepare myself. I looked up from the napkins I was folding at the other end of the bar before Heather could answer and said, “Maybe tomorrow.”

Jamie looked so cute, surprised that I’d spoken, I’m sure. I could even see the confusion in her eyes for a moment. I gave her a small smile and continued folding my napkins, and it was her turn to watch me after that. I know I’d been acting like a crazy person these past couple of months, and it had to make her scratch her head in wonder. But I saw her smile back at me before I went back to work. Not so different from me at all really; just another girl, getting by as best she knows how.

And that oh, so poor guy on the course? He got paid in full that day. I arrived early, which I never did before. I took off my loose shorts and top and laid out on the incline wearing just a nude colored sports bikini. I even kicked my shoes off. It’s not unusual at all to see pretty girls tanning in the park most nice days. It may be a little odd seeing one lying out on the par course since it’s kind of in the woods and mostly shaded, but it’s usually not crowded and I could move off the equipment if anyone happened to come by. No one did, except for who was supposed to.

From a distance, I know I had to look naked, and my course buddy noticeably speeded up his run when I came into his view. That’s just exactly what I had planned. He slowed as he got closer, catching his breath, resting at his usual spot on the rail. His eyes were full of hopeful questions as I rose from the incline and eased my way toward him. I smiled wickedly as I slowly pulled the velcro barely holding the two halves of my bra together and pulled them to the side, exposing my full breasts and already hard nipples.

I slipped between his legs and raised up, pressing a thick nipple to his mouth. Yes, I let him touch me today, and it felt wonderful. “I’m gonna suck your cock today, Baby,” I whispered into his ear as I pulled his face down to my tits. “I’m gonna make you cum with my mouth.” He groaned and sucked my breast into his mouth, his lips hot and wet on me as he circled my rock hard nipple with his teeth and tongue.

I groaned too as I slipped my hand into his shorts and lowered myself slowly, pulling them down with me as I got to my knees. His cock was so hard, so big, so beautiful, my mouth was watering for it. I pulled him right into my hot mouth and began sucking, pushing my lips down his shaft and swallowing him all they way in. He groaned like an animal, finally getting what he’d wanted for so long, and his hands went into my hair. I even left them there as I slowly pulled up and swirled my tongue around his head, then plunged back down again, taking his cock deeper into my mouth again, and then slowly back up again. Then down again, and again.

I had decided I definitely owed him and it was time to let him cum. It was so cute how he tried not to, though. He maybe thought I was just taking our game to some new and unimaginable level, but I wasn’t. I was going to make him cum today.

“Do it Baby,” I crooned when I took his cock out of my mouth and rose a little, wrapping my breasts around his shaft. “Cum all over me,” I whispered, smiling into his eyes as I rose and fell slowly. I slid my breasts up and down his length, watching intently as the shiny, wet head appeared and disappeared between them. It felt so hot and throbbing, like it was alive, and I loved it. I knew he would cum soon and I could hardly wait for it. And I squeezed his cock tighter between my breasts moving them up and down his shaft faster and faster.

And he did cum. I felt his balls swelling then contracting, filling beneath my breasts as I slid up and down, and I heard him groan as I felt his shaft thicken between them. His head ballooned and erupted as I parted my lips and took his first blast right in my open mouth. I felt his legs shake and his cock thicken again as I took his head into my mouth, wrapping my lips around it and sucking the next shot out of him gently. I went down on him a little more as his hot, thick cum jetted into my mouth and I greedily sucked harder, swirling my tongue around his head, loving the feel of that pulse in my mouth.

I swallowed happily and took his spurting cock out of my mouth, pointing it at my heaving breast. His hot cum splashed over my lips and chin, then another long rope of his thick creamy stuff painted my tits as he tensed and groaned. I pulled it back into my mouth again and sucked him gently until I was sure I had him nicely drained. And I kept sucking gently, still feeling his cock pulse.

He relaxed a little on his rail, his chest heaving, but his cock was still nice and rock hard. I rose again and rubbed his still warm cum on my breasts with his cock, then let it go and pulled my tits to my mouth. I slid my tongue in and out of the warm cum that had splashed all over me, smiling up at him the whole time, watching the lust in his eyes.

I pressed my lips close to his, but didn’t kiss him as I rose and redid the velcro catch on my top. Back to the rules. Without touching him, I sensuously stood and swallowed the last bit of his cum, sighing like a slut and licking my lips and fingers. I blew him a kiss and picked up my clothes, then began to slowly jog away, pulling on my top as if nothing unusual had happened.

“Will I see you again?” He yelled out before I disappeared down the hill. I couldn’t help laughing at the squeak in his voice. It was still polite, even cute, but definitely cracking.

“Maybe tomorrow.” I waved and ran backward for a while until I was out of sight. Then I stopped long enough to throw my clothes back on and finished my run. Fortunately, I’d long since quit timing myself.

Jonathon has called several more times since then. It’s always the same. It’s the middle of the night and he’s drunk out of his mind. He tries to apologize in some piteous way that’s never quite understandable, and he laments over the mistakes he’s made, looking for some kind of forgiveness that he can’t give to himself maybe. And he cries a lot.

It doesn’t make me furious anymore, it’s just too pathetic. I don’t feel a bit sorry for him either, though. He’ll need to find his forgiveness elsewhere. I’m still not quite ‘there’ yet. It’s mostly just annoying being wakened in the middle of the night. I’d sleep like a log now, except for those late calls.

I should probably have my number changed.

Maybe tomorrow.