Ch 6 – The Ride
Revenge served as cold as ice cream
NC<18 – No characters under the age of 18 are depicted in this story.
This is a copyrighted original work of erotic fiction. All rights reserved.
We woke up the next morning to sunshine and bird songs and went out to do the morning chores, still naked, holding hands between the three of us and sharing playful and flirtatious and bittersweet caresses, knowing all too well that my car was supposed to be ready to be picked up sometime today.
I’m not sure when, but sometime during this weekend I had come to care about these girls.
Sure, it started out as an episode from a letter to a porn magazine but in an amazingly short time they had grown on me and my chest actually hurt I was in such conflict.
We knocked out all the things they said needed to be done before we left then went in to clean up.
You know how I mentioned the upstairs bathroom a while back? Well, farmhouses years ago also had things called “mud rooms” where the folks would remove muddy boots and dirty or muddy clothes before going into the rest of the house. This farmhouse had a mud room.
But this mud room was a bit different. And that was good because we didn’t have and muddy boots or clothes to get rid of.
What this house had a room that had probably started out as a mud room or an enclosed porch had been turned into a mud room with a shower. And what a shower!
Bobbi Jo opened the door this time and, yeah, my jaw dropped again. I had thought the shower upstairs was great, and it was. This one was fantastic!
You had to step down into it and onto the tiled floor. You know how you usually refer to the “bottom” of a shower or a tub? Yeah. Not this one. This one had a floor. The room was entirely tiled, from floor to ceiling. The only things that weren’t tiled were the windows and the inside of the door. The tile included a nice bench a little more than halfway to the far wall.
Bobbi Jo walked over and slid the windows open, letting in the fresh cool air from outside, along with birdsongs while Betty walked around the room turning on the shower heads.
Yeah, you read that right. Shower headS.
There were six of them spaced around the room, which was unusual enough, but what made them more unusual was that they protruded from the ceiling instead of the walls.
What made them more unusual than that was that they all had flexible hoses and the heads were mounted on some kind of movable arms so they could be positioned in different locations, heights, etc.
We had discussed the bathroom upstairs yesterday while doing chores and it turned out that when Betty’s parents had inherited the farm they had decided to renovate the house before they moved in.
When they got to stripping the plaster and lath to install drywall they had discovered the house was an old timber-frame one where the studs weren’t part of the load-bearing walls and what made it possible to put in such a big window in that bathroom.
Betty had grown up using the bathtub/shower in the downstairs bath, not realizing that not all parents had bathrooms that big.
Once she and Bobbi Jo had moved into the master bedroom it occurred to her that maybe her parents were into some things she hadn’t suspected.
Turned out that once she realized that, she had to re-consider the reason the mud room was what it was.
“You know,” I said as we stepped into the spray of all those shower heads, “I think I’m really sad I never got to meet your ‘rental units’ too.”
Betty smiled up at me kind of sadly, but with a glint in her eye, “You just wish you could have had the mythical and fabled mother-daughter three-way instead of the much more common bi-sexual three-way.”
“No!” I protested with as straight a face as I could manage. “I was thinking that with the right timing I could have had a four-way with you, your Mom and Bobbi Jo while your Dad was out in the fields.”
She smiled at me, said, “Oh, shut up,” and pushed me further into the spray of the showers.
We sat on the bench with Bobbi Jo behind me with her legs straddling it like I was and Betty sitting on my lap facing me.
We kissed for a long time, in between hugs until we finally decided that the time had come for me to leave.
I stayed downstairs and got dressed in the back room off the kitchen while the two girls went up to their room to get dressed.
I was dressed and had my sample cases and suitcase by the front door when I heard them coming down the stairs.
I turned and looked and about backed over my suitcase and fell down.
See, up ’til now I had seen them in “farm clothes” – IF you could count that costume national treasure edge of history izle Betty was wearing yesterday (only yesterday??) – or those pajama outfits/costumes.
This was an entirely different side of them that I had seen. And I had seen a LOT of sides to them in a little over a day and a half.
They came down the stairs wearing matching outfits. Matching except Bobbi Jo’s was pink and Betty’s was yellow.
Other than the color and the size, though, they matched.
Knit dresses that looked like they had been sprayed on.
Low-cut fronts. No bras.
The bottoms of the dresses came to about mid-thigh.
Both were wearing what most guys refer to as “fuck-me pumps” (where the hell do you find “fuck me pumps” that small for Betty?) the same color as the dresses.
But the crowning touch was the little lace-topped ankle socks they were wearing.
It was like the entire outfit was screaming “SEX” but that small little reserved part of it was whispering “but, but, but, I’m a GOOD girl”. The contrast was as sexy as the outfits.
They slowly walked over to me, model style, crossing their feet across each other and swaying their hips. It was all I could do to not change my mind, tear my clothes off and then rip theirs from them.
“I’ll go get the truck,” Bobbi Jo said, and she walked through the kitchen and out the back door.
I was surprised when I heard the low rumble of what sounded like a tuned racing engine fire up and idle around the side of the house.
I looked out and saw an older pickup truck roll into view. It was older, but it didn’t look old. The body was in really good condition. Nothing special paint-wise. Just a truck. But it sure didn’t sound like “just a truck”.
Betty grabbed the smaller sample case and I grabbed the larger one and my suitcase and we walked out the front door. Just as I was about to go through the door I caught something out of the corner of my eye and realized the clothes I had shed the day before yesterday were still lying crumpled on the living room floor.
“Damn, my clothes,” I said as I started to go back for them.
“Pick them up on your way through next time, mister,” Betty smiled up at me.
“Unless you don’t want to?”
“Oh, hell yeah! I was actually wondering how many times I could play that, ‘Excuse me, but my car broke down’ thing before you showed up at the door with a shotgun and told me to ‘get the hell on outta here, mister!'”
We carried the bags out to the truck and I put them in the back.
Betty held the passenger door open for me and I looked at her askance. “I don’t think I can ride the ‘hump’ very well, sweety.”
She smiled and said, “You’re not riding the hump. I am.”
“Well, shouldn’t you be getting in first, then?”
Her smile turned wicked as she said, “Not THAT hump.”
So I climbed up into the truck, she climbed in and sat on my lap and she pulled the seatbelt across the both of us and fastened it.
Bobbi Jo drove out of the drive and onto the blacktop and turned in the direction the tow-truck had gone.
As we drove, Betty started to rock her hips back and forth across my crotch. It didn’t take long before she was riding the hump of my cock between her ass cheeks through the dress.
“Jeez, mister, don’t you ever stop?”
“Sorry. Can’t help myself in such beautiful, sexy company. Especially with you rubbing that cute little ass of yours on me like that.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, mister, this road just has some bumps is all.”
“Well, mister, I don’t think I can keep riding here like that with that thing like that.”
“What do you want me to do with it? You made it like that.”
“Oh, so it’s MY fault?”
“Well, let’s try this.” And she unbuckled the seatbelt, turned around unbuckled my belt, unhooked my trousers, unzipped my fly and pulled my hard cock out. Then she turned around, lifted the hem of the dress to her waist – no bra, no underwear, why should I be surprised? – lowered her cunt over my cock, leaned back and re-seatbelted us in.
As we continued to drive down the road she went back to rocking her hips.
“See, mister, just like I said. It’s just that the road is bumpy. But this is a much more comfortable way to ride to town.”
I started to reach around her waist and she slapped my hand.
I thought she was playing and tried again and she slapped my hand again.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“If you do that, I’m going to come, you’re going to come and Bobbi Jo’s gonna lose next level chef izle control of the truck.”
“Oh,” I said glumly.
“But you CAN play with these if you want,” and she reached down, grabbed both of my hands and put them on her titties through the dress.
And so, as we drove along, she rocked her hips on my throbbing cock and I gently squeezed her boobs through her dress.
Eventually the road widened out to be a four lane and traffic picked up. We came to a stop light and Bobbi Jo looked in the mirror, smiled and pulled into the left lane just before getting to the light. “Just act natural,” Bobbi Jo said quietly. I wondered why until another pickup rolled up to our right.
I looked out the window into the eyes of a younger guy, probably about the girls’ age and the guy sitting next to him about the same age. “Morning, boys.” Then I turned to look straight forward again.
I could hear the driver whispering to his buddy that I was playing with Betty’s tits, but his friend wasn’t believing him until he lifted himself off the seat to look across his buddy.
Right about then, Betty reached out, grabbed the dashboard and slowly started sliding up and down the full length of my rock-hard shaft.
I had been watching the lights of the cross-street and the turn-lanes and at just the right time I turned and looked at them again and said, “You boys have a good day, now, ya hear?”
As the light turned green, Bobbi Jo stomped the gas, the tires spun and we left them sitting in a cloud of smoke at the light. Coincidentally, Betty had been in the “up” position and the acceleration slammed her back down on my cock. I think she’d been watching the lights, too.
“Shit! What do you have in this thing?”
Betty told me and I told her I was surprised that she knew so much about it.
“This was Daddy’s and my project during high school. We tore the engine out, took sent it to a machine shop to have some work done, then brought it back and put it together together.”
“Wait. So you know stuff about cars? Do you know what was wrong with my car?” She nodded. “Then why didn’t you tell me that so we could have come and gotten the parts and you could have fixed it and I could have gotten back on the road?”
“Because then we wouldn’t have had this weekend together, mister.”
“Hey, speaking of which, why do keep calling me mister? I know you know my name by now.”
“Well, at first it was part of the act when I first started seducing you, but now it’s just our little nickname for you. Bobbi Jo really likes to call you that when you’re dominating her if you haven’t noticed. She’s not really big on the whole ‘master’ or ‘mistress’ thing”
I looked over at Bobbi Jo and she nodded slightly.
We found the dealership and Betty slid up off me and I had to try to stick my wet cock back in my trousers while still seated in the truck, which wasn’t easy. Luckily it was just wet and not cum-drenched.
When I went inside I found out that they hadn’t quite finished the repairs so I figured I had some time to kill. I told the girls that I could just wait here and they could head back to the farm to make sure they got back in time for evening chores.
They said they had plenty of time because Bobbi Jo would drive much faster going home than she did getting into town.
They asked what my plans would have been had I gotten into town on time two days ago.
“Well, ummm,” I hesitated. “I’d have gone to one particular office where there’s an office manager about my age that I’ve been trying – unsuccessfully – to hit on every trip through. I hit there then the motel, just in case I ever do get lucky with her. Then I hit the rest of the clinics in town in the morning before heading out again.”
Bobbi Jo growled, low in her throat. “Where’s this bitch’s office?”
I told her where to go, wondering the whole time what was going through her mind and if I should have told her or not.
When we got to the office, Betty jumped off my lap and asked how long it would take me to do what I normally did.
“About 40 minutes, I guess.”
“OK. You get your sexy ass in there and do what you normally do. Do you hit on her right at first?”
“I usually flirt with her all visit and then ask if she’d be interested in dinner just before I leave.”
“Good. Like Bobbi Jo said earlier, Just act natural. You’re just a day or two late. Car trouble.”
So I grabbed my two sample cases and went inside.
The office manager glared at me and said, “You’re late.”
“Whoa! Sorry. Didn’t know I had to meet your schedule. I had car trouble. Just got into town.”
She harrumphed night court izle and I went about my business, flirting with her even though my heart wasn’t in it, because now I was comparing her to the two beauties waiting outside. But I put on as good a front as I could.
Right around the 30 minute mark the door opened and Betty stepped inside.
“Jeez, mister, aren’t you done yet?”
I don’t think the office manager could see who came in from her seated position. I don’t think she could see Betty when she walked over to me, wrapped her hands around my upper arm and rested her head on my shoulder. “Can’t you quit early?”
The office manager stood up and her eyes widened as she saw Betty. I glanced around the waiting room and saw that the eyes of everyone in there were wide as well. I think a couple of ten-year old boys spontaneously sprinted into puberty right about then, too.
“Now baby, I’ve got work to do. I’m almost done. Can you sit quietly and wait ’til I’m done? Then we can get you an ice cream cone or something.”
I said that because I knew there was an ice-cream stand right next door, where I usually drowned my rejection in a big hot fudge sundae after I left this place.
“That sounds good,” she said as she let go of my arm and asked “Can I have money for ice cream now?
I pulled a handful of bills out of my wallet and handed them to her and told her to get one for her and one for her friend and that I’d get one when I was done.
I split my attention on the office manager who seemed to be looking at me in a new light and the view out the door as the two girls walked in that model-strut – in those “fuck-me pumps” no less – to the ice cream shop next door.
I thought the kid at the window of the shop was going to fall out of it when he saw them standing there.
I carried on as I normally did with the office staff and timed it right.
I had my back to the door and was in the process of asking the office manager if she’d like to have dinner with me tonight when I heard the door open. I could hear the collective intake of air when they walked in as everyone took in the matching outfits and the size difference.
The office manager had stood up when she heard the gasp from the waiting room and saw the two of them walking across the office.
She tried to fluff up her hair. “Well, I don’t know. I don’t usually, but I might.”
Betty stood on tiptoes to see across the counter better, took a long, slow lick up her ice cream cone and giggled.
Bobbi Jo planted an elbow on the counter, leaned over, looked her slowly up and down and then looked down at her and said, “Oh, lady, you wouldn’t stand a chance. This here is waay too much man for any ONE woman.”
As she pulled herself back across the counter her ice cream cone dripped onto the massive expanse of bare skin. She jerked a little and I took a tissue from the box on the counter and I reached to wipe it up.
“No, mister, let me!” said Betty. I started to hand her the tissue, but instead she stood on tip-toes again, extended that fantastic tongue of hers and looked the office manager right in the eyes and slowly licked that running drip of ice cream off Bobbi Jo’s cleavage.
“Wow! Now I’m ready for some ice cream, too,” I said. Bobbi Jo smiled at me and turned her cone so the next drop landed on her cleavage again.
“No, you silly goof. I meant my own ice cream.”
She looked like she was going to pout until Betty licked that drop up too.
I picked up my sample cases and turned to walk out the door. They put the hands that didn’t have the cones in them around my arms and we walked out together.
I put the cases in the back of the truck and we walked over to get a hot fudge sundae for me – but this was definitely NOT a rejection sundae.
We finished our ice cream and as we walked back to the truck holding hands I glanced at the window of the clinic and saw the office manager standing there watching us.
Sucks to be you, I thought.
The girls gave me a ride back to the dealership where my car was now ready.
They seemed reluctant to leave until I reminded them they still had evening chores to do or the animals would suffer. They dragged leaving out until Betty finally blurted out, “You’re just trying to get rid of us so you can hook up with that bitch of an office manager now that she’s seen you for who you really are!!”
“Girls, I wouldn’t try to hook up with that bitch of an office manager now. Or ever. Not now that you two have reminded me who I really am.”
You probably won’t believe this, but I’m a traveling salesman. No, not the old door-to-door salesman for brushes, vacuum cleaners, magazines or encyclopedias.
I actually sell specialty medical products. That requires traveling to every clinic in my district on a regular basis, and I’ve got a regular route that I follow in the process so I can spend each night in my “regular” motels.
Except for one weekend each trip. That one I spend at a farmhouse on the right side of a two-lane blacktop road with my two very, very close friends.