“God damn it!!” I cursed as the wrench slipped off, shooting my hand yet again into the sharp cooling fins of the motorcycle engine. The customer was always right, I thought to myself. He’s paying me to do what he wants done. I tossed the wrench down and stepped back. The 2006 Dyna Wide Glide was a machine to behold, smooth and sleek – a stripped down machine for a too-complex world. I wrapped a dirty shop rag against my knuckles as I kicked a random part in aggravation. The tank top I had on and the dirty jeans were too nasty to bother trying to stanch the flow of blood, so I held the dirty rag and prayed that I hadn’t left any antifreeze on it.

The Vance and Hines Short Shots would be loud and proud, but this joker in particular had decided to ride his bike for a bit, so the bolts were pretty much sealed into place. Breaking them loose required a lot of torque, and my favorite breaker bar/torque wrench combo was sitting in a storage room, awaiting the court’s discretion in divvying up the remains of a broken marriage.

“Aw, fuck it.” I muttered as I walked back to the front of the shop. It was mine, all mine. All nine hundred feet of storefront and a lousy one-car garage in the back that served as my repair bay. I was the front guy, the back guy, the go-to guy, the whole thing, all at once. Sometimes its a little depressing. Like now.

I grabbed the chin-up bar mounted across the doorway and knocked out a quick seven. I was up to ten before the divorce, and the lack of eating, too much work, and not enough sleep made me weaker than usual. I shoved the mass of hair I had grown since my son was born out of my face and looked at my world. My little, grease-stained world. My bed was here in the office, and my clothes were discreetly tucked into a file cabinet.

It was getting dark – the customer wouldn’t be back til Tuesday, and it was Friday night. It had been two months since I’d gotten laid. I was sick of laying on the cot in the office and holding my cock while Claudia was in my bed fucking the neighbor. Yep – that was the kicker. I came home early to find Bruce, the pudgy accountant neighbor, balls-deep in my wife Claudia as she talked dirty in Spanish to him. Claudia’s family had come from Central Mexico, from one of the German enclaves that still grew their girls light-haired, light-eyed, and light-skinned. She was all three, dark blonde with matching carpet, green eyes and a killer accent that was so clean, unlike my border-Spanish.

I was supposed to be at the shop all day, and my son was at school. They thought it was safe.

“Damelo, cabròn!” she grunted as she lay on her back, her legs up in the air. That little chubby fuck was porking her good, though. Bruce was dripping with sweat as Claudia’s hips wiggled all over. I stood there in shock as he arched, flopping his beer belly on my wife’s toned abs as he blew his load into her. She was so slim, so muscular and sexy – my mind couldn’t wrap around the fact that my goddess of a wife was fucking the greasy, sniveling little twerp across the street with a bad toupee and horn-rimmed glasses.

He slid himself out of my wife’s pussy after he finished, his cock dripping with his cum and my wife’s fluids. A red haze colored my vision as I watched him sit back, still in his black socks as my wife lay back, gloriously nude in our bed. Electricity shot down my arms, though, reactivating my paralyzed muscles. I could feel the rage, like a hot fiery energy, flood down my spine and into my arms and legs.

My voice was as flat as it got, which meant someone normally got hurt at that point. “What. The. Fuck.”

Claudia snatched covers and began babbling at me in Spanish. She was sorry, she was not responsible. He made her do it. Whatever. I knew that look on her face, the one she’d give me as I railed her within an inch of her life, making her come all over the place and leaving her a limp puddle of wet, exhausted flesh. I knew how she looked when she enjoyed the sex, and she was enjoying his pale, fat flesh on her.

I took two steps closer as his sense of self-preservation overwhelmed his natural desire to relax after blowing his load and he began to realize his bodily integrity was in danger. I grabbed a hold of him by his greasy neck and aimed him toward the door, propelling him out with a series of shoves and kicks to his wide, pimpled ass. Claudia wrapped a sheet around her naked self as I sent her paramour out of our bedroom, through our house, off the lawn and into the middle of the street. She was from Central Mexico, and she showed it as she screamed at me in the street as she wrapped up, her righteous indignation at humiliating her lover overriding her desire to keep her dignity. Sheets slipped as neighbors watched her cursing at me for throwing her lover in the street naked, her body exposed as she forgot her nudity. She snatched at them as she cursed at me, giving everyone a good look at her sexy body while I kept the fat man down, his fish-belly paleness flourescing in the daylight.

My anger at Claudia was enough for me to sling her over my shoulder, throw her in the bedroom, and fuck her like she was the last bit of pussy on earth. I ignored the fat bastard’s cum as I slammed myself into her. It turned me on that she cursed me as she grunted and fucked me back, her animal passion like a match to gasoline. She came again and again, calling me names as I grudge-fucked her. Eventually, I blew my own load all over her stomach, tits and face. God, it felt so good, like every hot emotion blew through my cock and onto her. I wasn’t angry at her, and I wasn’t ready to kill her. But, that would be it – I would not be sleeping next to her or around her again. She lay in another limp puddle of her lover’s drying cum and my fresh load as I pulled down a duffel bag from the closet, packed my clothes and gear, and left the house.

The next day she slapped me with divorce papers. I guess sex wasn’t our problem after all.

Nine years of being together was gone – we’d met in college – she was a language major and I was an engineer. I’d worked on two major projects before falling in love with motorcycle mechanics. I made more money as a mechanic, and I designed some hot custom work for the marks with lots of cash. I had grown my hair after our son Jared was born, a year out of school, he was seven.

I reached into the small fridge I kept my groceries in – atop the mini fridge were a single plate, a fork and spoon, and a hot plate to cook on, and a cot beside it. This was my life, now. After the split, I made a point of seeing my son daily, he rode to school on the back of the bike, and I brought him home. Claudia and I still looked at each other with love and hate in equal measures – I loved her, but if she were on fire, I wouldn’t piss on her to put her out.

Clauda told me the same thing one afternoon when she dropped by the shop. It was the end of the day and she was coming from somewhere with information on Jared. She was haughty in her fashion wear and I was angry and horny. Words were exchanged, and I ended up stripping her as we kissed – I fucked her like mad over one customer’s bike, and she loved the grease marks I left on her where I touched her. I came like a fucking fire hose inside her as she screamed out her own orgasms, her tits shaking with pleasure as she held herself up with one hand and pinched her hanging nipples cruelly. When Claudia got dressed, she didn’t even clean the handmarks of grease and oil off her, just slid her jeans back up and her shirt back on, tucking her panties and bra back into her purse. Then she left and said she’d changed the locks on the house. I shook my head as I watched her leave, knowing my cum was soaking a wet stain at the crotch of her jeans as she walked off, and I could see her legs quivering still from her orgasm.

In the end, it was my Mexican pride and her German obstinacy that broke us apart. We could have made it work, but in the end, it was that I didn’t want to ask her back, and she was too stubborn to ask me to come back.

And so the divorce.

I was sick of it all. I knew I’d always take care of Jared – he was my pride and joy. We camped at Lost Maples National Park when he came over, and he slept in my cot when I had him on the weekends. He worked on bikes and we went on long rides when I had slow work, eating in biker hangouts. The ol’ ladies we encountered loved on Jared – his thick dark hair and his mom’s lighter skin made him exotic, intriguing. At seven the ol’ ladies pampered him with food, attention, and made points of wearing things that left little to the imagination as they treated him like a king. No, he’d never be insecure around girls, after the ego boost of hot biker mamas treating him so well.

A few of them even made eyes at me – which normally ended up with one in the back of the hangout while Jared was being entertained by three or four other ol’ ladies. Generally I bent them over something while I got some action. Most ended with a kiss on the cheek and a sticky spot on their backs as they went back in. A biker’s life was interesting, and there was never really any shortage of pussy. Occasionally one would just want my cock in her mouth, bobbing up and down on me with her tits hanging out until I came all over them. Then, a zip-up, a kiss on the cheek again, and we’d part ways, me going back to Jared and the ladies who entertained him, and her off with the other ol’ ladies.

Lately its been busy work, and I have had my son over, but our father-son time involved me trying to degrease myself in the bathroom before going to the movies, Hooters, or both. It wasn’t bad, but it was no way to really be a dad – I mean, I did get to take him to school in the mornings and pick him up. He told me his cool factor had gone up now that he carries his beanie helmet strapped to his pack in the mornings. I enjoyed the time with him, as Claudia gave me enough time to pick him up and share a burger, a shake, or just some guy time every day. She may have been a Class-A bitch to me, but she has never interfered with mine and Jared’s relationship.

Still, two months was a long time without pussy. I was sick of watching porn on the computer with my pants around my ankles in the middle of the night. Sure, every guy likes self-service, but this was outright miserable. Fuck this – I was still alive. The little man was with his mom this weekend – visiting their grands in Monterrey. My folks had passed some time ago, and I had no brothers or sisters.

I hit the shower and washed off. All my money was tied in the bank as part of the divorce, the only cash I had was what came directly out the bike shop till. Its never a smart idea to dip into your own till, and I couldn’t do the bank thing while our divorce was still on – her lawyer had frozen me out of the bank accounts because he was a shark in a suit who convinced Claudia that I could take all the cash and run. Thus, no everyday cash other than what the shop made.

Oh well, I had enough profit in the cash box to cover a night out. I folded up a few twenties and stuck them in a set of jeans I had pulled out. I was gonna take a ride, maybe even a longer one than usual. Either way, I needed to get out and do something.

Clean jeans, clean socks, and a fairly presentable t-shirt rounded me out. I skipped the drawers, instead just sliding a pair of jeans over my naked ass and buttoning the fly. I shoved some anti-tangle goop through my hair and brushed it out quickly, tying it back into a ponytail. I was set to go out – and I had that familiar tingle of being excited to be out and about again. It had been such a long time.

The night was still fresh and warm from the end of the day. In the back, under a tarp, lay my latest motorcycle. To call it a Harley would be shorting the machine – it may have started as an FXR, but the long 36-degree rake on it was the first indication that it was customized. Oh, boy, was it customized. It was long and sleek, with straight racing bars on it. The engine was a fat one – originally a 96-cubic-incher, it was bored out to an fat 106-inches. No stupid stroking, as that only shortens an engine’s life. This bad betty was fat, mean, and roared like a temperamental lion. The S and S motor breathed through a huge hypercharger, and the Vance and Hines Short Shots let everyone know when she started.
She gleamed like she was polished with slow light, the bare metal fenders and tank glazed with clearcoat. She was everything a chopper-fan would want, clean enough to please the purists.

I slipped on my vest, a black leather cut festooned with pins and patches. My beanie helmet sat right where I left it on the saddle. I laced it on and fired up the bike. She roared awake and settled into a boneshaking rumble. Iwas already feeling better as I locked up the storage yard and took off – there’s magic between a man and his bike.

I left the shop in a roar of RPMs and thunder, quickly shuffling from the small industrial area on Nakoma and 281 to the main highway, shifting south and letting the big engine find its own best pace. The gears clicked away quickly, and the bike found its own best speed, a smooth, powerful 70, leaving the dreariness of that little office bedroom for the road.

I swept along the flying ramp to connect with 410, the main loop around San Antonio. Rolling on the throttle as I came off the ramp, I felt the bike’s connection to the road as we merged into the weekend night’s flow of traffic. Tuner cars and sportbikes alike were nothing to me and my bike, the fat S and S eating the miles like they were cake. Without even thinking about it, I knew where I was going. Hills and Dales. The Center of the Universe, and like any biker bar, the scene of crazy fun and shenanigans that were wild and crazy.

The music was throbbing and the scene was already going to town. The pool tables were full, the dart games were flying, and the small dance area was packed. I had found a spot to park between the various clubs that were making their presence known. The Bandidos were the dominant club, so they didn’t have to do much, but all the local clubs were there. I knew most of the people there because I had worked on their bikes. The Damn Fools MC prez nodded – I’d redone his exhaust and carbs, leaving his big bad machine even louder and meaner. So were the Hard Heads MC, looking mean and hard. Two of them had come by for engine repairs, and were happy with my work.

I enjoyed the fact that I had such good relations with so many clubs. I sat down as the waitress came by and plunked a couple of bottles down. “Compliments of those guys,” she pointed to the Damn Fools, “and those guys.” She pointed to the Hard Heads. “You also got two more in the hole from some other folks.”

Now, isn’t that a fun way to start the night? I pulled out my smokes, a pack of Djarum Black clove cigars. I smoke them because I hate the taste of regular tobacco, and these are nice and tasty and only 12 to a box, so I don’t smoke as much. I’d quit the habit but picked it back up due to that bitch Claudia and her fucking complications in my life.

So, after the first two bottles were gone, I wandered over to the Hard Heads, shaking hands and hugging the two I knew, Drillbit and Sunshine. They motioned me to sit down, and nodded to some of the girls who were hanging around. Two came over and sat in my lap. It was nice to find some young girls in my arms again – they were of age as Hills and Dales cards everyone, and they felt fine and firm under my hands as they touched me and let me touch them. No bras, short shorts, and high heels.

Stormy was the first one – dusky and hotblooded, she immediately sat on my lap facing me and put my hands on her tits. “These are some of the nicest tits you’re gonna feel.” And they were. Claudia’s were high and tight, these tits were lush and large, and I squeezed them both, firm and strong. She moaned and arched her back, rubbing her crotch on mine.

She got off and the other girl, Isabel, straddled my lap and began kissing me. The MC went wild, cheering and whooping as she made out with me, putting my hands around her and rubbing herself up and down my body. Of the two, I liked Isabel the best. Her little Motorhead shirt was torn just enough to give an eyeful, and her booted heels were sexy and knee-high, setting off her tiny shorts.

Stormy smiled and went off with another club member leaving Isabel with me. Her tits weren’t as lush as Stormy, but Isabel was short, slender, and hot as hell. Her skin was an even coffee-with-cream color through the tears in her shirt, and her hair was long and jet black, with a hint of Aztec haughtiness in her cheekbones. A hot little Mexican cutie, I was down for finding out how to get her home.

After a few beers, Isabel sat on my lap, exploring my mouth with her tongue and her hands were up my shirt. I had mine on her ass, kneading that soft, luscious asscheeks. She came up for air, and whispered, “I’m ready to go to your place.”

“why my place?” I asked. I hadn’t had enough beer to be stupid – I knew that one look of my place would send this hot little honey right out of my bed and out the door.

“Because its hot that you work on bikes. It’s hot that you live in your shop.” She also leaned in. “You’re hot. And Claudia’s a bitch for fucking around on a man like you anyway.”

That caught my attention. I looked at her closely. Between the hair and the well-tanned skin. I looked at her – really looked at her.

“Isa?” Oh, fuck. She’s Claudia’s cousin. Claudia’s aunt, her Tia Sonia, had married a well-off, dark-skinned Mexican man. I knew Isa when she would come visit for the summer. I hadn’t seen her since she went to college at Texas A and M University two years ago.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Why aren’t you at school?”

“I got involved with some of the local MCs in College Station, and I skipped school last semester. I was hanging around in Houston, but after you and Claudia split up, I hitched a ride here and asked around until I found the MCs you hung out with.” Isa leaned in, rubbed her tits on my face. “do my tits feel bad now that you know?”

“Fuck, Isa… If Claudia finds out…”

“Fuck Claudia. I remember her talking to Mama about the little accountant she was fucking behind your back – that it was strange that some greasy pendejo made her feel like a queen because he worshiped her just to get some pussy.” Isa was angry, her voice offended.

“I used to play with my clit at night and dream of treating you like a king.” Isa whispered. She had a faintly crestfallen look on her face. I didn’t know what to say to that, so I said nothing. It rarely gets me in trouble.

“I think I fell in love with you when you took me shopping, listened to me with my stupid boy issues and acted like I was a real person.” Isa said. Her eyes were welling up, under the makeup.

“Isa,” I said. “Let’s get out of here, and let’s talk over a drink somewhere quiet, before we do anything else.”

Isa brightened at the fact that I was not rejecting her.

I waved to Drillbit and Sunshine, and got cheered a dozen times as I left with Isa. We mounted up and I started the big machine. She roared like a pent-up demon as we got going. Isa wrapped herself around me and I could feel her nipples pucker in the cooler air as we rolled on the highway.

Isa was murmuring something in my ear, but I couldn’t hear it as we rolled along 1604. I took the upramp to 10 and moved east. She began moaning and grinding on me as the vibes from the huge engine vibrated her pelvic region. I could hear Isa trying not to moan but I could feel her gripping harder and harder until she clenched, and gave the sexiest moan I’d ever heard. My cock was already hard from feeling her getting off behind me.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled of 10 at the first exit to UTSA Boulevard. There road swept right, then left. I rolled down until I found a small road to the right, that doubled back to the access road but went through a dark area. With no curbs, I eased off into the grass and near a stand of trees. Unless someone shined a light right here, no one would see.

Isa dismounted, and I did, too. I crushed her to me with a growl of impatience and need. She surrendered to my hands as I touched her all over, lifing her Motorhead shirt and suckling her hard nipples. My hand alternated between squeezing her ass and rubbing her pussy through her short shorts. I didn’t stop, biting hard enough to send waves of sensations through her as Isa thrusts her hips against my hands.

Finally, Isa quit rubbing my chest and slid her hands down between us, unbuttoning my fly and letting my cock out into the warm night air. She slid down and swallowed my down to the root in one shot. My eyes rolled and my knees buckled as she sucked on me, pleasuring me with her tongue as she kept her warm mouth on me.

I didn’t want to cum yet, though, so after a few minutes of enjoying Isa’s talented mouth, I eased her up, took her short shorts down, and bent her over, her hands on the saddle of the bike and her shorts in a puddle around her ankles.

She was wet, the scent of her arousal intoxicating like pot smoke as I aimed my hard meat, sliding in. It was the indescribably wet slickness like heat and silk and velvet all at once, and Isa gave me that sexy grunt/moan that all women do when you sink into them for the first time. Oh, god Isa felt like heaven. It was so sexy as I pulled back, until just the head and crown were buried in her. I eased forward, feeding that distended pussy one slow inch at at time until I had my cock near Isa’s cervix and she was spasming, her legs shaking with pleasure.

I couldn’t wait anymore. I began fucking Isa with enthusiasm. Plunging deeply, I kept giving her the full length at each stroke til she began quivering again, her breathing hard and gasping as I slid myself in and out of her.

“oh, god. Claudia said you were a god at fucking, but oh!” she quit talking as I fucked her harder, the lingering anger at Claudia driving me forward into her. She mewled out an orgasm as I kept fucking her. “Damn, that’s good!” she whispered as she held on, another orgasm building as I fucked her. Isa’s pussy was dripping, the fluids running down my cock and onto my balls. I could feel Isa’s pussy tightening up as she built up to a major orgasm, and I was ready, my own nuts churning with cum as I held it all back to enjoy Isa’s hot body.

I felt her clench tightly, then begin pulsing as the release of her orgasm shook her and she screamed my name. The pulses and my relentless fucking took me over the edge, and I began fountaining my own pleasure out, the jerking release driving her tight, pulsing pussy to greater pleasure as it dragged my own pleasure out, exquisite pulse after exquisite pulse.

My mind was a shining blankness for a moment, and I could hear nothing but the pulse in my ears and the rushing of blood in my body. I could feel Isa’s pussy contracting around me as wave after wave of pleasure rushed out of my cock.

I gasped as the waves died down, and realized I was still hard, still wedged deep inside Isa’s body. Cum was leaking out from her body as I stayed in there, until she eased forward and I fell out with a pop.

“Oh… my… god.” she muttered, putting a hand to her pussy. She cupped a small handful of sperm dripping and brought it to her lips, licking it clean. “Mmmm… I always wanted to taste you. I always knew you would taste so good.”

“Damn, that was good.” I shakily pulled my jeans up as Isa shimmied back into her short shorts. She leaned in and gave me a warm, deep kiss. I could taste my cum and hers in her mouth as she kissed me.

“What were you saying earlier, on the road?” I asked, to break the quiet.

“Hmm?”

“I was just curious as to what you said when we were riding.”

“Oh.” Isa giggled. “I was gonna tell you that your bike was gonna make me cum.”

We shared a laugh at that.

“So, now what?” she asked.

“well, now we go back to my place and fuck some more. Tomorrow we’ll figure out what to do.”

“You got more after that?”

“Its been a while, and if you talked to Claudia at all, you know I can fuck more than once a day with a great finish.”

“Yeah, she told me about that.”

She mounted up, waiting for me to get on the bike. I rocked it upright and we took off in a roar of thunder of exhaust and RPMs.

The rest of the night was Isa and I, fucking on the bike in the storage area. Then we fucked in the small waiting area. On the customer’s bikes. We spent the night nude with my cock and tongue in various parts of her body. I came at least three more times – she came so many times she passed out, a sweaty puddle of flesh drooling cum out of her orifices. I passed out next to her.

The morning came way too fast. I awoke to the smell of coffee and takeout breakfast. Isa came in with a sack of breakfast tacos. The taco truck around the corner was fantastic. She was dressed in the t-shirt I had on last night, and her boots.

“I walked over to the taco truck this morning.” She said as we divvied up the tacos and began eating. “He didn’t seem surprised to see a woman in a t-shirt and boots come out of your shop.”

“Don’t think I have naked women all the time here.” I sipped some coffee as her wan expression brightened. “He’s illegal, so he doesn’t say anything about what he sees. Ever.”

With breakfast finished, she stripped her clothes off and snuggled up against me. Her lush skin and smooth complexion looked so good against my tanned, slim body.

“How do you avoid getting a pot-belly?”

“I don’t hardly eat since Claudia and I split up. So, no food means I stay skinny.”

“You should eat more – its not healthy to be so thin.”

Her hand on my skin as she talked woke my dick. It was already extending, hardening. Isa’s eyes watched it as it grew erect. Without a second glance at me, she slid between my legs, swallowing my length again.

Between the sex and the hotness of Isa’s warm brown skin and curves, I was feeling the need to cum like distant thunder approaching. It built up under her soft lips and tongue, until I was panting and fisting the sheets.

“God, Isa, I’m gonna cum.” I warned. It was not a secret, I could feel the little dribbles of pre-cum leaking out of me already.

Isa bobbed faster, her hands working my balls and playing with my asshole.

I couldn’t take it anymore, and I arched, letting out a final blast of semen with a primal yell. She swallowed every drip, every splash, without blinking as she kept sucking me, until I was dry.

Finally, she let me slip out from between her lips. “Was that good?”

“Oh, yeah.” I said, panting still.

With that, Isa snuggled up against me. “Good. I’ll make you feel good all the time, anytime you need it or want it.”

“Are you sure?”

“You’re my king, baby. Let me treat you like one.”

She dozed off contentedly as I held her, thinking of the inevitable fireworks when Claudia found out.

“Cookie or nookie,” Abby giggled.

She laid a chocolate-covered Girl Scout cookie on her blond pussy mound. “It’s a simple choice, Tyler.” She tried for a serious face, before dissolving into a giggle fit.

The teenage boy broke up, laughing hysterically. The naked young couple lay in the back seat of Ty’s dad’s big car, parked by the lake. The bluish air wafting in the car was fragrant with marijuana smoke. After smoking way too much pot, Abby and Ty had started eating Abby’s Girl Scout cookies, which were supposedly safe in the trunk. Her discarded Girl Scout uniform was rumpled on the floor.

“Hmmm, cookie? Or nookie?” debated a decidedly stoned Ty, his face an inch from Abby’s fur. “Both taste oh-so-yummy. How about … BOTH!” He spread her knees wide apart. Ty gobbled up the Thin Mint, then opened his mouth wide and covered her quivering sex with his lips. He slowly licked, dipping his fat tongue into her pink slit.

“Mmmm, sweet, sweet pussy,” Ty murmured as he lapped her juices. As Abby wound her fingers in Ty’s curly hair, he moved his mouth up, rooting for her clit. When he found it and began suckling, Abby gasped. Ty continued his insistent nursing while Abby mindlessly humped his face, lost in pleasure.

That was the first night she had come. With someone else, that is.

“Ty, Ty, Ty, you sure knew how to suck pussy.” Abby Carter blushed at the decade-old memory. The 25-year-old mom shifted in her minivan seat, unexpectedly aware of her hardened clit underneath the pleated green skirt. She sat parked in a McDonald’s, a half-eaten Egg McMuffin next to her in the passenger seat.

Abby’s flashback was prompted by her high school Girl Scout uniform. Early this morning she had put it on for the first time in years. Abby stood in front of her full-length mirror, feeling a little silly. Her uniform looked different than she remembered. Although the young mom had added only a couple of extra pounds since she was 17, she was much curvier now. The short pleated skirt hugged her round hips, and came down to just a few inches below her panties. The diagonal sash now draped snugly over a plump over-sized breast instead of the budding teenaged tit she had before. Only the perky beret — perched on top of her blond head — looked the same.

Aroused by her memories, Abby looked down at herself. She ran her hands up her smooth thighs, sliding her fingers underneath the green skirt. “I don’t have to pick up Emma’s Girl Scout cookies for a half hour,” Abby reasoned, wiggling her fingers under the elastic waistband of her white panties. “Besides, no one can see through the tinted glass.”

Abby delicately fingered her slick folds. She stroked her lips, rubbing in the oozing girl-juice from her slit. Tilting her pussy forward, Abby dipped two fingers into her wetness, massaging her clit with the heel of her hand. Abby’s hole tightened around her fingers as her pussy pulsed. She withdrew them with a wet slurp, and squeezed her clit between her wet thumb and forefinger. Abby rolled the erect nub, gently pulling. Her green Girl Scout skirt flipped up, exposing her busy hand inside the white panties. Abby threw her head back, dropping her beret in the back seat. She felt a growing surge, growing, growing …

“Riiinnnggg!”

Her cell phone.

Abby abruptly withdrew her sticky hand, grabbed a McDonald’s napkin, and picked up her iPhone. “Yes, hello?” Abby asked, a little breathlessly.

“Abigail? Are you OK, dear?” asked a cheery voice. “Suzanne Moffatt here. Just wanted to make sure you’ll be here on time to pick up Emma’s cookies.”

“Sure, I’ll be on time, ma’am,” said Abby. “I’m almost there.”

After hanging up, the young mom shivered thinking of Mrs. Moffatt, her daughter’s perfectly proper troop leader. The ever-smiling Suzanne Moffatt looked like something out of a Betty Crocker commercial, with a beauty-parlor hairdo, starched blouses and sensible shoes. Mrs. Moffatt and the other moms from the troop were overly polite to her, but Abby always felt like these power moms disapproved of her.

“I’m too young. I’m too blond. I’m divorced. And my tits are too big,” Abby thought to herself, hiding a smile. “At least I can still fit in my Girl Scout uniform.” As she drove to Mrs. Moffatt’s, the blonde smoothed the badge-covered sash over her large breasts.

“Jesus! My nipples! They are OUT!” As she parked her minivan in the driveway, Abby looked down at her chest in a panic. Her nipples were now erect, and much more obvious than before her little mental trip down memory lane. She sighed, shook her head, then giggled.

Walking up the sidewalk, Abby tried hunching her shoulders to minimize her jiggling breasts, but they refused to be shy, sticking out high and proud. “Oh well. At least I’m here when I promised,” thought Abby, standing up straight as she knocked on the door.

“Why Abigail, how nice to see you!” Suzanne Moffatt, said brightly, showing all her capped teeth in a wide smile. “Do come in!” Mrs. Moffatt’s eyes carefully avoided Abby’s big tits under the diagonal sash. “How cute, wearing your old uniform! I’m sure you know only girls SELLING cookies can wear their uniforms during Girl Scout cookie time!”

The young blonde walked into the living room, which was piled high with stacks of Girl Scout cookie boxes. The spotlessly clean room looked like Martha Stewart had just finished decorating it.

Abby adjusted her green beret over her disheveled hair. Her nipples pointed straight at Mrs. Moffatt. “Sorry; I just ran out of the house.”

The older mom flashed another toothy smile. “Why dear, I understand! I’m a mess myself!” Mrs. Moffatt touched her flawless brown flip. “And look at me! I might as well be in DUNGAREES!” Mrs. Moffatt wore a navy blue blazer with matching navy blue slacks. Her tasteful silk blouse was topped with an understated strand of pearls.

“Do you have Emma’s cookies ready for me to pick up?” asked Abby.

“I sure do! I have 100 boxes set aside for each Brownie to sell in the next few weeks,” said Mrs. Moffatt. Looking around as if she didn’t want to be overheard, the older mom lowered her voice. “This year there is a CONTEST! The first Girl Scout in the county to sell all 100 of her cookie boxes wins a trip! The winner and her family travel to Washington D.C. to be presented with a special ‘Awesome Achiever’ medal from the Girl Scout Council president!” Mrs. Moffatt was practically salivating. “Of course, my own Judith has already sold 84 of her boxes, so with any luck tomorrow after school she’ll sell out and be officially declared ‘Awesome’!” Mrs. Moffatt crossed her manicured fingers in front of Abby’s face.

“Naturally, if little Emma wants to attempt to win, she’s, ah, welcome to try!” Mrs. Moffatt had a pitying look on her face, as if picturing Abby’s dreamy 6-year-old Emma duking it out against her own aggressive 8-year-old Judith.

Seething, Abby stood still, clenching her fists. “You, you, you … BITCH!” she nearly spat out loud. The young mom was consumed with an irrational desire to wipe the smile off Mrs. Moffatt’s carefully made-up face.

Mrs. Moffatt helped a silent Abby load her van with stacked boxes of cookies. The older mom waved merrily to Abby as the blonde drove away. Little did Mrs. Moffatt know, the young blonde was plotting her next move.

After calling her neighbor and arranging that he’d pick up Emma after school, Abby got busy. She had cookies to sell.

 

***********

Abby drove her van to a just-opened subdivision nearby, and parked at the very back, near the new construction. She hoped new homes meant people new to the neighborhood. In other words, people that wouldn’t recognize her.

As she stepped out of the van, Abby smoothed the green skirt over her hips and adjusted the sash on her plain white buttoned blouse. She pulled up her green knee socks and retied her white Keds. Abby left her dark blond hair loose to ripple down her back, falling to her waist. She was ready to sell.

The homes on one side of the street were finished and lived-in; the other side had half-constructed houses. Abby walked up the sidewalk to the first occupied house, and rang the doorbell. She plastered a smile to her face. A tired-looking woman opened the door, a baby on her hip. “Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies!” Abby asked brightly. The woman looked down at Abby’s breasts and short skirt, and grinned.

“Sure honey, I’ll take a box of Thin Mints,” she said.

After handing over the cookies and collecting the money, Abby smiled as she walked away. “One down, 99 to go!” she thought.

As Abby walked to the next home, she heard a whistle, and turned her head. Across the street, two construction workers stood in the open garage of an unfinished house. The muscled young men were smiling.

“Hey little girl, are you selling cookies?” yelled the taller of the two. “We could sure use a sweet snack.” The second guy laughed and punched the first in the shoulder.

Abby stopped, frozen. She was about to walk away, ignoring the workers, when a vision of Mrs. Moffatt’s sad, pitying smile flashed through Abby’s mind. The young mom narrowed her eyes, set her jaw and hardened her resolve. “I’m not letting that, that … CUNTSICLE and her awful daughter win Emma’s ‘Awesome Achiever’ award!” Abby told herself, cocking her beret at a jaunty angle. “Turn around, Abby, and SELL THOSE COOKIES!”

Abby pivoted, her skirt flying up, and walked across the street toward the grinning construction workers. As she walked across the dirt yard, they stared at her sweetly bouncing breasts. Abby entered the garage, looked up into their dirty faces, and smiled. “Would you guys like to buy some Girl Scout cookies?”

The taller guy looked at his blond co-worker, and stroked his bare tanned chest. “What do you think, Marc? Do we want this little girl’s cookies?”

“Oh, I think we do, Greg. I’m hungry for a treat.” Marc grinned at Abby wolfishly, his teeth very white. His blond hair was pulled back in a short ponytail.

“Well, they are $3.50 a box, and I’m anxious to sell as many as possible,” said Abby, thrusting her chest forward.

Greg ran his fingers through his dark hair, and lazily looked down at her breasts. “It might convince us to buy your cookies if you were wearing a proper uniform. That blouse is not regulation Girl Scout attire.”

Marc’s face took on a mock-serious look, as he nodded sadly.

Abby thought for a second, face burning, then said softly, “How many cookie boxes is a regulation uniform worth?”

“I’d say that’s worth two boxes each, don’t you Marc?” Greg laughed. Marc joined him, nodding vigorously.

“The customer is always right! I’ll take care of that now,” said Abby. She started lifting off her sash, but Marc interrupted her.

“No, leave that on,” he said softly.

Abby tugged her shirt out from her skirt waistband, and slowly unbuttoned it. She slipped the cotton blouse off her shoulders and onto the sawdust-covered floor. The young mom stood before the men in her bra, her sash still in place.

“You know, Greg? I don’t think Girl Scouts wear that kind of bra, either,” said Marc, grinning broadly.

“Jesus, Jesus, Jesus!” Abby squealed to herself. “And how much is the bra worth?” the young mom asked, clearing her throat. “I’d say at least six boxes each.”

After the workers nodded yes, the young blonde reached behind herself and unhooked her bra. Heart pounding, she slipped the satiny straps down, and held the cups in place over her full breasts. Abby could feel her erect nipples through the silky bra.

“Let’s see your cookies, little girl,” said Marc softly.

“Just a peek, then you have to buy my cookies, OK?” Abby said breathlessly. She didn’t want the young men to see how excited she was. How wet she was.

After the men nodded, Abby lowered the bra and tossed it onto her blouse. Her large tits bounced softly against each other. Abby’s sash rose and fell with her heavy breathing. Her pink nipples grew thick and long under the two men’s gaze.

“Shake ‘em for us,” Greg breathed. “Then we’ll buy.”

Abby surprised herself. She was more than happy to shimmy, joggling her breasts for the smiling strangers. Her pussy was impossibly slippery under her little skirt. The blonde reluctantly stopped herself and covered her tits with her hands.

“How many cookies to raise my skirt?” Abby breathed, her fingers grasping her hem and lifting it up.

The two men looked at each other sheepishly. Greg said, “Well, we don’t get paid until 5, so we’re kinda low on cash right now. Can we owe you?”

“No, no, no, time to pony up,” said Abby, quickly lowering her skirt. “Let’s see, that’s eight boxes apiece, so $28 each.” Abby bent over, grabbed her blouse and put it on, buttoning with trembling fingers. She wadded her bra in her hand.

Smiling, Abby handed the two workers their Do-Si-Dos and Samoas, collecting the payment.

“Don’t forget us, little girl,” teased Marc, his white teeth flashing. “Come back after 5 and we’ll buy all the cookies you have to sell. Just be prepared to show us that can-do Girl Scout spirit.”

“We’ll be hungry,” Greg added, licking his lips.

“Hmmmm, we’ll see …,” thought Abby.

***********

Abby walked to her van, got in and sat down. She tossed her bra in the back seat, and took a deep breath. The young mom hadn’t been this aroused in years. Her clit was literally throbbing, and her panties were soaked. Abby was tempted to slide her hand over her pulsing clit and finger herself to orgasm right then and there. She shook herself. “I have to sell these cookies!” she reminded herself.

Smoothing her blouse over her bra-free tits, Abby got out of the van and walked to the next house. Knocking on the door, the blonde smiled and prepared her sales pitch. The door opened.

“Mrs. C? Is that you?”

Startled, Abby focused on the hesitant young man in front of her. Stepping from the doorway into the light, a tall teenager smiled at her. “Is that really you? It’s not Halloween, is it?”

“Jesus, it’s Jeremy! From the grocery store!” Abby thought, dazed. The tanned high-school boy bagged her groceries at the local supermarket.

“It’s great to see you, Mrs. C! You look, you look … so pretty …” Jeremy’s eyes had dropped down to Abby’s chest. The Girl Scout sash covered one breast, but the other pressed firmly against the white cloth, revealing not only the obscenely erect nipple, but the darkened areola surrounding it. Jeremy’s gaze quickly lifted, as the teenager looked Abby in the eyes. When the blonde gazed back at him, parting her lips, Jeremy’s cock swelled in his jeans.

“Would you like to buy some, ah, cookies, Jeremy?” whispered Abby, glancing down at Jeremy’s bare chest, then down to the bulge in his jeans. “I have 83 boxes to sell. Do you have 290 dollars? And fifty cents?”

After a beat, Jeremy gulped. “I have that much. I’ve been saving for a CD player for my car to take to college next year. But instead, ah, I might like some cookies.” His prick rippled. “I have a sweet tooth.” He grinned at Abby, as if they shared a private joke. His eyes were very blue.

“Are you here by yourself?” breathed Abby.

“Yes, ma’am,” whispered Jeremy. “Please come in.”

Dreamily, Abby walked in the house. Jeremy closed the door and followed her, watching her short skirt swaying. In the middle of the living room, Abby turned around.

“Is there somewhere we can go so I can sell you my cookies?” Abby said quietly. “This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong,” screamed the responsible voice inside her. “Fuck him silly,” said the bad girl voice, apparently the stronger of the two.

“Sure, my room is right through here,” said Jeremy in a husky voice.

They walked down the hall to a messy, masculine room. A big blue quilt covered the bed, which was scattered with Playboy and Penthouse magazines. After shutting the door, Jeremy quickly picked up the magazines, and stammered, “Oh! So sorry. Let me just pick these up.”

“Do you like looking at those naked girls, Jeremy?” asked Abby. She sat down on the edge of the cleared bed. “Would you like to see ME naked?” She put her hands on her breasts, squeezing her nipples through the thin cloth. Abby rolled the fat buds between her fingers, pulling on them.

Jeremy silently nodded, his eyes locked on her breasts. He stood in the middle of his room, looking down at Abby.

The blonde scooted to the middle of the bed and kicked off her Keds. She left on her knee socks. Smiling at the tall teenager, she unbuttoned her blouse for the second time in an hour. Abby pulled off the shirt, throwing it playfully at Jeremy. She kept her sash on. Abby’s hands cupped her heavy breasts; her fingers again pulled on her long pink nipples.

“So Jeremy, do you like my tits? Do you like watching me pull on my nipples? See how they look like fat pencil erasers?” Squeezing her nipples tight, Abby held them up for the teenager. “Would you like to give them a good suck for me?”

Breathing hard, Jeremy slid next to Abby and tentatively licked her right nipple. When the blonde moaned, he slipped the hard tip into his mouth and began to suck. Abby gripped the back of Jeremy’s head.

“Suck harder, Jeremy! Milk me!” Abby panted.

Jeremy obeyed, increasing the suction, Abby’s nipple deep in his mouth. His jaw worked. When he switched to the other nipple — nudging the sash out of the way — the sucked nipple was a shade darker, much longer, and tingling. Jeremy’s hands kneaded the creamy skin of Abby’s breast as he suckled.

“Nice, so nice,” breathed Abby when he lifted his head. “You have such a talented mouth. Would you like to lift my skirt and see my panties?”

“Oh yes,” whispered Jeremy. He grasped the bottom hem of Abby’s pleated skirt, and slowly inched it higher, exposing Abby’s small white panties.

“Take off my panties, Jeremy,” Abby ordered softly.

“Yes ma’am.” The teenager gently hooked each side and began to pull her panties down. As he did he revealed Abby’s furred mound. Jeremy quickly pulled the panties off, noticing how damp they were.

“Mmmmm, see my pussy?” purred Abby. “Did you know I was a real blonde, Jeremy? Would you like to see how wet I am?”

In response, Jeremy rubbed his young face on her mound. Abby spread her legs wide for him, and he settled between them. He held her puffy lips open with his thumbs, and thrust his thick tongue deep into her slit. The high-school boy nuzzling her clit with his nose as he fucked her cunt with his tongue, lapping her juices.

“Ooohhhh, Jeremy! Your tongue! Aahhh!” Abby mewled, wiggling against him.

Jeremy moved his wet face up and wrapped his lips around Abby’s aching clit. Slurping, he sucked the bud, hard, harder. Abby humped back in time with his sucks, clenching her ass cheeks rhythmically. Just as she was about to shudder and come, Abby pulled Jeremy up to her face, kissing his sloppy mouth.

“I taste so sweet, don’t I,” Abby panted, licking the inside of his mouth. “Now give me that big teenaged cock.”

Abby kissed her way down Jeremy’s hard body, pulling down his jeans to reveal his tented boxers.

“Oh my, look what I found,” teased Abby, tugging the boxer shorts down and off as Jeremy lifted his ass. His completely hard cock stood straight out, twitching upward. “Oh, it’s a nice …” Abby kissed the hairy base, “… hard …,” Abby licked the puckered hole at the tip, ” … thick …,” Abby nibbled up the quivering shaft, “high-school prick.” Abby lowered her experienced lips over Jeremy’s taut head, and opened her throat, swallowing him whole. Jeremy grunted as Abby began bobbing her head up and down, working her mouth over the length of his shaft.

As the teenager began panting, humping her mouth, Abby looked up at him with shining eyes. “It’s time to fuck me now.”

Jeremy held himself above Abby, pressing his prick against her gaping slit. Abby spread her legs even wider, and grabbed Jeremy by his lean ass. She humped forward with her pussy and thrust him toward her at the same time, impaling her sex around his cock. His large balls lay against her small ass for a moment, then he started to fuck her.

“Ahhh, yes, good boy,” whispered Abby, grinding against Jeremy’s thrusting. “Hump me good. Make me sore. Fill me up.”

Jeremy began fucking with more intensity, slipping his dick in and out of Abby’s wet tight hole faster and faster. He pinched her nipples, then reached down and pinched her clit. That did it; Abby went over the top when Jeremy firmly squeezed her red hard tip. Jeremy continued to pinch and twist through her shuddering climax. As Abby reached her peak, he thrust once and held it, as his prick reached deep inside her cunt, releasing his cum.

Panting and sweating, the two lay in a heap on Jeremy’s bed. Abby began giggling, and kissed the young man on the cheek.

“You are so sweet! What a lover you are,” said Abby. “Any girl would be lucky to get you.”

“Oh Mrs. C.! That was so, so AWESOME,” gushed the young man, his smooth cheek pressed against her Girl Scout sash.