by David Cain

“Mr. Rivers, good to see you,” said Bill. “This is my associate, Dave Jenkins. He handles the technical side of our business.”

“Glad to meet you, sir,” the large Texan extended his paw in greeting. “But you fellows call me Jack.” He shook my hand forcefully. “I hope you don’t mind my bringing her, but this pretty lady is my wife. We’re on a little vacation.”

“I’ll just be as quiet as a dormouse,” said Mrs. Rivers. “I know you gentlemen have business to discuss.”

“After dinner,” said Jack. “I hate to do anything on an empty stomach.”

I am usually spared these dinner parties. Client development is not my forte. Bill had come into my office just before I quit for the day to beg me to go with him. We had never dealt with a hardware manufacturer and Bill was afraid that Jack would want to discuss technical aspects of the deal. Ours was a partnership made in heaven. Science was not Bill’s forte. I agreed to go. It had been a long time since I’d had a decent meal.

“The kids are staying with my parents,” said Jack after the waiter brought our drinks. “And we’re taking a second honeymoon. Ain’t that right, honey?”

“I haven’t been out of Texas in ages,” she said.

There was something familiar to me about this quiet woman, something I couldn’t quite place. Her hair had been dyed a light shade of red, a color that complimented her pretty green eyes. Slight wrinkles were the only aspect that really betrayed her forty-some years. Her figure was distinctly feminine, faintly maternal, and her black silk dress flowed elegantly over her soft curves. But I couldn’t think of where I might have seen her; I hadn’t been to Texas in a very long time.

Jack told us all about their lovely home in Dallas and a few anecdotes about watching the Cowboys from the owners box. Halfway through the main course, he turned to his wife and said, “How’s your dinner, darling?”

“Just peachy,” she said.

I stopped chewing. My eyes probably opened a little wider. I felt my heart pound.

It was twenty-three years before that I had been at Padre Island in Texas. I was standing on the balcony of my hotel room with a girl of twenty, watching the sun go down when I asked her if she was happy. “Just peachy,” she’d said.

I looked more closely at the woman seated next to me. I struggled to imagine what she might have looked like, twenty years and several children ago. She noticed my stare and blushed slightly. Ashamed of my rudeness, I quickly looked away.

It had been a week’s vacation on the beach, a ritual escape from the demands of college studies. My roommate Rudy and I had shared a hotel room. The whole week had been one long party, girls and booze and warm sunshine in March. It seemed like a blur, even then. On the last day before we had to go home, I met a girl. I was immediately infatuated with her and she with me. An hour later, we were walking the beach, holding hands, spilling our life stories. A few hours more and we were back at the hotel.

I stole another glance at Mrs. Rivers, watching as she took a sip of wine. At once, I remembered the girl’s name, Dolly. I had teased her, calling her my doll Dolly.

It was one of those nights we both knew would be finite. Her friends absolutely insisted on leaving Padre by noon the next day. Neither of us pretended that anything could go on, after this. We didn’t say so, but I had a girlfriend back at school and I was pretty sure Dolly had a boyfriend and there wouldn’t be any point in carrying on from afar. So we decided to make the most of what we had. I still remember that night, as if it were yesterday.

“I don’t know how you fellows back East handle these things, but back in Texas, we expect everything to be laid out, up front and proper,’ Jack said. The business conversation had begun. Mrs. Rivers sipped her wine and smiled wearily.

Dolly had worn a loose cotton dress that draped elegantly over her youthful curves. I held her in my arms, my hand caressing the soft linen on her back as we danced in the hotel room to the music from a party on the beach below. The flame on a thick candle Dolly had bought made our shadows loom larger than life against the white hotel walls. I can still taste her sweet breath when we kissed. I cupped her ass in my big hands, a perfect fit as I squeezed. Dolly laughed.

She lifted the dress up over her head, her green eyes sparkling slightly in the pale light. A pair of pretty white panties stretched from hip to hip, bulging gently over her soft muff. Her breasts were left bare and her nipples grew hard in the cool ocean breeze wafting gently through the open balcony door. I put my lips to one dark circle of flesh, teased the hard nub with my tongue. Dolly laughed and pulled my face close to her breast.

I eased her back gently onto the large bed.

“What about your friend?” she asked softly.

“He’s staying at that girl Sherri’s tonight,” I said happily and stripped Dolly’s panties straight off. She blushed as I paused to gaze hungrily at her cunt, but spread her legs anyway, indulging my interest in her sparkling wet lips. “So beautiful,” I whispered, as much to myself as to her. Dolly giggled and squirmed.

“Kiss me,” she said and I licked her damp lips. Dolly tasted divine, like a sweet white wine, gentle and intoxicating. My tongue caressed the swollen folds and teased the soft bulge, and Dolly grabbed my hair hard and pulled me in close. Her orgasms shuddered and quivered and moaned. Then she lifted me higher, to kiss my drenched face.

She fumbled to free my hard cock from my shorts and I fucked Dolly hard, each plunge wanting more. She rode me, tits bouncing as she screamed in wild passion. I fucked from behind, pulling her deep by the waist, squeezing her ass, watching my cock slowly emerge from her lips before diving again to strike her cervix. Her cunt was dripping wet, enflamed and drove me into madness.

We collapsed together to kiss on the bed, laughing and teasing. We talked, lying naked in each other’s arms, drinking and making promises we never really believed. Dolly sucked my cock hard and we fucked all over again until we dozed off for a bit and then went at it again. We knew the dawn was coming, and the end of our romance, so we milked every moment we could, desperate to share all we had in one night.

A final sleep stole us away until the sound of keys in the lock made Dolly leap over me to fetch her dress. The morning sun blazed through the windows.

“Ohmigod,” she said when she saw the time. “I’ve got to go.” I nodded and kissed her, and Dolly ran out of my life.

“You’ve been quiet, Maggie,” said Jack with a laugh that betrayed his intoxication.

“Just thinking,” she murmured. “We’re going to Florida,” she told me

“Have you ever been there?” I asked politely.

“Not since college,” she said. “Spring break, you know.”

“Maggie grew up around here,” said Jack.

“Down in Richmond,” she added.

“Really?” I asked, confused and surprised. “When did you move to Texas?”

“When was it, honey?” Jack asked his wife. “About twenty years ago?”

“We met in Alabama. Have you ever been to Alabama, Mr. Jenkins?”

“Dave, please,” I corrected her. “Once or twice.”

“You seem familiar,” she said, with a blush. “Have we met?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “It’s possible, but I can’t say. So much of my life has gone all fuzzy.”

“Ain’t it the truth?” Jack said with a laugh. “Now I expect you both to come visit us in Dallas, when we’re ready to sign the contracts,” Jack pushed himself away from the table. “Come along, doll.”

After Jack and Maggie Rivers climbed into their cab, Bill and I walked to his car.

“Thanks, Dave,” Bill said. “I’m sorry I dragged you down here, but better safe than sorry. I think we cinched the deal. Hope so, anyway. I like them. They’re good people.”

“Peachy,” I said. “It would be sad to let them go.”

About David Cain

David Cain, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Witch, Song of Songs, Journals of Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances and others ...
This entry was posted in books, erotica, fiction, literature, literotica, personal, short stories, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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