Rule #1 Read online

  Rule #1

  Anonymous

  Copyright © 2013 by the author

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13:978-1492916857

  ISBN-10: 1492916854

  For you*

  It’s not what you look at that matters,

  its what you see.

  -Henry David Thoreau

  Story #1

  Rule #1

  There have to be rules and order to everything, spoken and unspoken. And if the rules don’t work, then at least they are a starting point.

  So rule #1 is no one I already know, no one you already know. This we agree on easily.

  Rule #2 is that I get to pick. You don’t have to agree, but give this one a chance.... let me fish and you can sit back and watch. I always come home from the grocery with phone numbers, I come home from the mall with a new Facebook friend, always hot chicks, always bouncy tit tight asses. I can pick them, and they pick me too. So please leave that to me.

  Rule #3 is that whatever I do to her, you have to do to me later. And whatever she does to you, I’ll do to you later (and better).

  Rule #4 is the triple play will happen, but it has to have a clear ending, a goodbye to her and make sure she leaves and doesn’t come back for more of either of us separately or together.

  That’s important to me, I’m not looking for a new friend; I don’t think you are either.

  You take care of that.

  So with that understood I pick the right dress, this one, that shows off my boobs, but not in the way that says I have new boobs I just bought, come play with them.

  That’s the wrong message.

  I slip on the nude heels and then rub my new creamy almond scented body butter up my legs and down my chest.

  You can wear whatever you want. You’re a handsome man, you can just sit there and look good. So do that.

  A bar is the wrong place to look, so is the grocery store. So we go to the cafe, the one that also sells wine and has some music.

  But tonight isn’t hippy guitar poetry crap where the girls with armpit hair hang out. They’re usually adventurous and horny but they smell.

  Tonight its quiet.

  We order. We talk.

  I notice the blonde with the short dress watching us, and lean over a little to you, letting her watch a little something.

  She keeps looking and then gets up to the bathroom. Our eyes follow her and it’s evident she has a HUGE ass (and not in a good way) but neither of us want to say that, we just wince a little and shake it off and act natural.

  The waitress offers more coffee but I just want water. She asks about the book I’m reading and then another question and another and it turns out we both love Isabelle Allende and Fannie Flagg and Jonathan Franzen and Marge Piercy and Margaret Atwood.

  I like her warm brown eyes, I like our banter and I’m sorry that neither of us are including you but this is how it goes right now.

  You have your book down so no one can tell what you’re reading but while I’m talking to Michelle – she introduced herself -- I see you lean back a little and check her out. I can’t make eye contact with you I swear I will crack up,

  I have to keep my game face on.

  She brings water, she brings me a copy of a book she had in her backpack and I pull out another book I had. We decide to swap books, so she writes her phone number and email in her book.

  She asks what I do and you say “It’s complicated.”

  I smile and add, “I put things together.”

  She looks at you and asks what you do, but before you can answer I tell her, as I stand up and slip by her, letting my boobs push against her just a little, “he takes things apart.”

  She keeps talking to me and pretty much only me until I decide it’s time to slip away. I pretend my phone is buzzing and grab it.

  I have to take this, it’s work, it say to you and her.

  I don’t have anyone calling me, but I stand wayyyy over there and pretend leave you two to talk. By the time I come back she’s giving you that look, that “I’d fuck you” look, and she’s barely hiding it.

  So then you slip away and I'm alone with her.

  She watches you walk away and I watch her watch you. This is a done deal, now how to close it?

  She asks me quietly, what does he DO? he won't tell me! What do you mean 'takes things apart?"

  I give her my very good blank face and say I can't tell you, but I might be able to show you.

  She nods and goes off to take care of another table.

  On your way back you whisper something to her and she laughs and i'm thinking 'go team go"

  The last table leaves and its just her and us there. She's cleaning up and I can't tell if we should leave and then call her, or stay and find a way to bring her back with us. Neither of them sound right. Too many phone numbers and calls and then there's the issue of how to get her home and make sure she never comes back.

  While I'm deep in thought (and deeply wet) she asks you if you'd PLEASE go with her to lock the doors and could we both stay while she finishes what she has to do. She just hates to be alone and we seem so nice.

  You lock the door and I know then we aren't going to need to take her anywhere.

  It's too soon to make a move in the coffeeshop. And anyway, I think it's a done deal and I don't want to move too quick; we aren't on a deadline.

  Anyway, before she can relax the girl has to sweep and mop and take the trash out, she has to do the dishes and break the espresso maker down.

  So since I have your attention (and also, she's probably listening) I tell you this story

  THE STORY OF THE WET YOGA PANTS

  Even though we thought of hiking, of pilates, of breakfast or shopping, we end up at her house this morning savoring the week of peace before the chaos begins. We do this every year, I think this is our 7th anniversary.

  But anyway, Lisa and I end up on her porch. The talk goes to school, to syllabi, to how to format the columns on exams. We discuss study guides and how long essays should be and then I talk about the professor whose exhusband had a shoe fetish and she used to wear crazy teetering sharp heels all the time but since they broke up she looks like a happy baglady.

  Its too hot so we move our talk inside. As we stand up I tell her my yoga are wet which makes us both laugh. The cushion I’d been sitting on was damp from rain coming in through the screen but it wasn’t bad enough that I wanted to say something until then.

  Anyway, I’d told my kids I was going to the gym, so I had my short tennis skirt packed.

  We went in, I grabbed my skirt and went to Lisa’s bedroom bathroom to change.

  As I walk out the bathroom in Lisa’s bedroom I stop short because there is very loud man there, and he’s in the house and she and I didn’t let him in, so he must have walked in, and he definitely wasn’t her husband.

  Trouble.

  My heart goes right to racing.

  Before I can see him I am struck by his too loud too deep voice. She’s telling him she didn’t expect him, and had he texted her? Had he texted her husband? Was she supposed to expect him?

  I don’t know what the fuck is going on but I’m trapped because there is no way out of the house from the bathroom so I can stay put or get to a door.

  I take a deep breath and walk past them. She tells him my name and tries to introduces us but I don’t even look up, I just say as I walk by “she made me wet my pants” and skitter off like a crazy ass roach running in the daylight hoping to not get stomped.

  This guy is huge, he looks like Iron Man to me, and he has a big pack strapped on his back. I’m thinking this is it, we are going to be murdered, or worse, I need to get to a door.

  But Lisa’s voice is calm so I don’t race out. I grab my purse which has my phone and
car keys and plant myself in a chair right by the door. From there I see three exits, and I’m ready to run if she screams or worse, if I hear the talking stop.

  He walks out of the bedroom still talking to her, saying something about yellow jackets. Apparently he’s the bug man, a very too friendly southern bug guy who just lets his own ass into your house.

  After he leaves she comes to me where I’m curled up in a chair using every bit of energy to act normal. She apologizes, she said she was startled too.

  I tell her I don’t like the bug man, that he’s too big and loud and scary and he has the energy of someone who kills all the time and he has poison on his back and I tell her more than once that I haven’t been this scared in years.

  She laughs and tells me he was Tigger at her Halloween party, he’s not scary.

  I shake my head, I say he’s too tall, too loud, too murderous, I don’t like him.

  he laughs again and tells me to lighten up. He kills bad bugs and keeps them from hurting people. I accept this, a little, and allow that the man actually has caused no harm and maybe I’m overreacting.

  Our conversation follows us to the kitchen where we much on carrots. I ask her about this and that and then she says she HASN’T taken that medicine in three days after taking it for years because it makes her not cum. She then adds, she came four times yesterday, all alone.

  I shake my head. That’s a BAD experiment, you took out two variables – the medicine AND your husband. Now you don’t know which of those was holding back your cum.

  She’s the scientist and she laughs at herself. Oh well, we will find out tomorrow when he comes home, she adds, then confides he MAKES her cum twice a day and the pressure to cum makes her NOT cum and it takes her forever.

  I shake my head, just fake it whatever, he can’t make you cum if you don’t want to!

  No, no, she says, I cum so intensely, he knows my body, he’d know if I faked it.

  I can’t believe he MAKES you cum twice a day, I half shout. Do you have some sex slave contract I don’t know about? Are you wearing a sex slave collar under there?

  She laughs hard and says NO he just does me so hard and so much and don’t ask me what else she said because that’s when I see that the bug man has reentered the house (no knock, no doorbell) and is standing in the living room 5 feet from us, listening to this WHOLE THING.

  I don’t even look at him, I don’t want to see his X-Man murderer scary self, and instead I bang my hands on the counter and shout THE BUG MAN IS HERE THE BUG MAN IS HERE

  But Lisa isn’t hearing me and is talking about how her husband goes down on her and stays down on her and I see from the corner of my eye that the bug man is still there but Lisa still hasn’t heard me because she’s so lost in thinking about sex so I shout again THE BUG MAN IS HERE THE BUG MAN IS HERE IN THE HOUSE RIGHT WHERE I CAN SEE HIM AND YOU CAN’T I’M NOT KIDDING

  Lisa’s face turns red and she sits on the floor in the kitchen. I join her and we hug each other laughing and giggling on the floor until we hear the door open and bang shut.

  A minute later, I get up and peek. There, his truck is pulling away. We are safe, the bug man is gone, I declare and we go back to her explaining in great detail how she is mercilessly but delicately forced to come, over and over.

  ********

  Two fingers, up and around.

  She’s standing next to us. Of course she is, every time I tell this story I bang my fists on the table while screaming about the bug man, and it’s very funny and awfully hard to ignore.

  I look up at her standing there right next to me holding the broom. Her boobs are bigger than I thought, luscious almost. We’ll see.

  She shakes her head and says You meant Iron Man.

  Iron Man? I ask, then look at you and her, blinking my eyes all confused.

  You said he reminded you of Xman, and Xman is Dr. X, the telepathic guy. He isn’t huge or scary, just super smart. Iron Man would be the huge scary guy.

  I nod my head. It worked. I do this sometimes, say the wrong thing to hook someone; they jump in the story and now belong to it.

  Iron Man, you’re right I tell her, then I get stretch and get up from the table.

  Where are you going, she asks me, and I say I have a favor to ask, if that’s OK.

  She looks at you and I shake my head, this doesn’t involve him. He doesn’t LIKE me I tease and as we walk away and leave you with your book I make sure to put my arm low low around around her back right in the space between her low cut jeans and her coffeehouse tshirt and whisper something in her ear that makes her stop in her tracks.

  Please say yes, please?

  She nods her head and smiles.

  The two of us go to behind the counter and she allows me to take the espresso maker apart. I used to love doing this when i ran a coffee shop, taking piece by piece off, soaking them in the sink and wiping down the parts that now were exposed.

  I turn my attention to the milk wand, the one that steams the milk for lattes. It looks like a skinny penis she says and I tell her no, the nozzle looks like a clit. See? I twist it off and hand it to her. She didn’t know it came off and now she has a metal clit in her hand. You should soak that, I tell her, when you’re done playing with it, of course. She giggles and puts in a cup of hot water.

  Next she watches watches me reach up with two fingers into the brew head. I narrate what I’m doing so she can do it to. Grinds get pushed back into the machine and you have to reach up and in and around and get them all out. Two fingers, up, then around, and out.

  I think she’s flushing,

  I think I’m getting my point across.

  I also think you’re watching because you’ve moved your chair and you haven’t turned a single page of that book on whatever that you’re still reading.

  We turn towards the sink and together wash and rinse the trays and the brew baskets. She notices my hair is fallen in my face and brushes it back for me.

  Thank you I tell her and go to kiss her on the cheek but she turns her head and I kiss her right on the lips. Oops, I say but she doesn’t move, she gives me the “more” look and I think now is a good time for a little more, while all the pieces of the espresso maker soak for a few minutes.

  She points out that the front of my dress is soaked from the sink and I shrug. What should I do?

  There’s a dryer in the back she points out and I follow her back there, right out of your line of sight and off to what I’m sure is going to involve skin on skin.

  Finally you get up, I’m not sure what it was that tore you away from whatever it is that you’re reading (what is it!? What could be so good?!) and walk across the coffeeshop, go behind the counter and around the corner to the service area.

  You find us there, giggling with half our clothes off. My dress is in the dryer, so I’m only in my bra and panties, and I convinced that her shirt and pants were wet too and needed to join my dress.

  She has her back to the dryer and I’m up against her with two fingers inside her wet panties, showing her exactly how I cleaned inside the espresso maker.

  The two of you make eyecontact and that’s your cue to come closer and help me make her cum.

  The Look on Her Face

  To say that you took over at that point is an understatement. Within seconds my hand was out of her panties, and I can’t tell if she pulled them off or you reached around me. I stepped aside to see the master at work.

  Your hand went where mine had been but the expression on her face changed from desire to delight.

  What were you doing? I can’t wait until you do that to me.

  I don’t mean to get in your way but you can’t have all the fun. I unsnap her bra and slide the straps down and off her. She’s looking at you so intensely I’m not sure she’s noticed or if she has her only response is arching her back and offering her tits up. I see your free hand move to one of them, then the other, softly over her entire boob.

  Her nipples are light pink and hard and I can�
��t help myself from touching them too. They are full and round and again I don’t mean to get in your way but she does ask me very directly to suck her nipples and so I do, first teasing lightly and licking and nibbling then more sucking, harder, a little harder, until her softness seems to fill my mouth.

  I’m just sinking into her second boob when I see she’s unzipped your jeans and slid her hand down your hard cock.

  I want in on this and turn full attention down there.

  She joins me and once we get you as undressed as we are (where did my panties go? Where did my bra go? I didn’t notice and at this point I don’t care at all) and together we try to lick and suck your dick but at the same time it’s so hard and wonderful it seems a waste to not fuck someone with it.

  I pull her up off her knees and lean her over the deep freezer, her ass so round and perfect I would have to say it might be bouncy. I stay close because want to see the look on her face when you fuck her.

  FLAVORED SYRUPS

  A gesture from you and I hop up on the freezer in front of her. Like I said earlier, I put things together. You take things apart.

  And right now, I’ve got you two together and you’ve got my legs wide open right in front of her. From this angle I can see your face and I like this, I could stay here for a very very long time.

  You are moving into her with your thick hard dick slowly and deliberately, all the way in and then waiting for her to push back on you, wanting more more, then you pull out again, torturing her with pleasure.

  She follows your pace and licks me slower than I’d ever imagined, kissing inside my thighs, working her way to the middle, to where I am soaking.

  It’s her turn now to slip two fingers in me and I can’t help myself I push back on them trying to make her go faster. I could cum now, I don’t want to cum now, I’m almost thinking I should be looking at the bags of coffee or the row of flavored syrups, anything but the look on your face while you watch her eat me out.