Getting Dirty

Nicentite · #1 07-16-2007

JUST AS YOU GET YOUR LIFE AS YOU WANT IT, BAM

I sit as usual with my back to the wall and looking into the rest of the room. This is a good vantage point and one from which I may see an acquaintance should they walk in. I cast my eye about the bar and I spot a girl standing near the wall to the left of the bar. She looks perfect in her deep red cocktail dress. We make brief eye contact. Her hair looks soft and natural and her face is pale and blemish free. She looks to be in her mid to late twenties. She isn’t beautiful by traditional standards but she is extremely attractive. I wasn’t there to try and pick up someone but for some reason I cannot take my eyes off her. She has an air about her that says ‘I’m not interested’ or ‘I’m taken.’ At least that is my impression. Anyway, I am forty two, divorced and sporting grey hair. I'm not bad looking but I am certainly older than most of the other guys that I notice becoming interested in her. I go back to drinking my scotch.

I look up at her again and she’s gone. I feel immediately disappointed. I quickly look all around the room and I find she is sitting at the bar and looking directly at me. She then spins around on her stool. I can’t help it; I look behind me to see what she may have been looking at. Nothing has changed, it is just the wall. I wonder for a minute then I say to myself, "Nah...It couldn't be." I remember a friend at college telling me once that if you see a girl you like at a party, make eye contact and smile at her and when she isn’t looking move somewhere else. The point here is, he continues, if she is interested she will try and find you again. He then tells me, you will see her look all around the room. If she stops her search the moment she sees you, then you interest her. If she carries on searching, forget it.

Has she done this to me? No it isn’t possible. I think of all the things she could be doing. Of course, she is looking for a better seat. The one at the bar means she would have her back to the room. Yes, I was in the perfect seat. This is what she is looking at.

I watch men approach her, say something then walk away crushed. She always smiles at them, but the shake of her head gives them an answer that cannot be misconstrued as anything but negative.

I finish my drink and think about leaving. Then the stool next to her becomes vacant. I do need a drink and instead of walking to the door I make directly for the bar. A young man gets up in front of me and stands next to her. Undeterred, I say, "I’m terribly sorry dear boy; can I get to the bar?"

He looks at me quizzically then seeing I am no threat to his advances says, “Yeah…go ahead old man.”

A thought goes through my mind…"touché, you irritating little git." I have nothing to worry about. He is blown out of the sky by the girl. I watch him crash and burn in the mirror behind the oculars.

She sits there looking over her other shoulder, the one farthest away from me. I take the opportunity to look her over. I can see the fine blonde hairs on her arms as she rests them on the bar. She is fiddling with a five dollar bill. The barman is busy with a large order and neither of us is about to be served in a hurry. I lean towards her and I say, “I bet you five dollars I can tell what you are thinking.”

She looks at me via the mirror smiling “What am I thinking?”

I reply with a bigger smile. “I haven’t a clue…here’s your five dollars.”

I hand her the winnings. She laughs and puts her hand on my arm briefly. I think…we have contact.

“Look…do you want to go and get a drink?”

“Yes, I am dying for a drink.”

We pass several of her rejects on our way out. I am very aware that every male eye is following us out of the bar. Heads turn as I open the door for her. My mind is racing… "Why me?” That is a pathetic chat up line but it seems to work. I am feeling really excited at the thought of having this lovely creature with me, let alone anything else.

We enter McClusky’s. This is a small quiet bar I frequent sometimes. It isn’t as popular with the plastic society and it has screened off tables at the back. It’s an old bar and it hasn’t changed since the thirties or perhaps even earlier. McClusky is at the end of the bar talking to a regular.

“Hi…Mac.” I call out to get his attention. He begrudgingly breaks of conversation and walks up the bar…

“Tommy…you fecking shitbag…coming in here only when your posh places kick you out… Well wadya want?”

“Mac let me introduce you to a lady….”

“Hi Mac. I’m Elle.”

Mac wipes his hands on his apron and extends it to Elle. Then he takes it away and spits on it and extends it again… “How do you do Elle?”

Elle spits on her hand and throws it towards Mac. “I am pleased to meet any friend of Tommie’s.”

Mac learns across the bar and whispers to her, “Tommy…who the feck is Tommy?” Then he lets out a raucous laugh that fills the place. “Tommy, treat her right boy…that’s a real lady you’ve got there... I can tell by the handshake.” He laughs again. “Whad do ya want to drink?”

“Scotch,” I reply

“Two scotches,” Elle adds.

“Is that whisky?” Mac asks with a serious face.

“Yes, with ice.”

“Two Irish Whiskeys… coming up…take a seat I’ll bring them over to you’s.”

We walk deeper into the bar and take one of the booths. Elle sits so that she can see the rest of the room. I sit opposite. I just want to look at her.

“I like it here…he’s nice.”

Mac walks over and places Elle’s drink gently in front of her. He sits on the edge of the table with his back to me. He bangs mine on the table.

“No he isn’t …he’s tolerable.”

Mac leans towards her and with a wink to me says. “When you realise what a waster you have here you can come and look me up…all this could be yours you know!”
Mac ups and turns and ruffles my hair. “Oh you lucky lucky man.”

“Thanks Mac… I am suitably embarrassed.”

“So where are you from Tommy?”

“My name is Carl and I am from Cambridge, England.”

“Why did Mac call you Tommy?”

“He always calls me Tommy... he doesn’t like the name Carl, it isn’t English… Mac hates the English and so to put me in my place he calls me Tommy.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I suppose there’s a kind of logic there somewhere. Carl a German name, Bosche, Hun, that sort of thing and Tommy…the good old British Tommy.”

“Oh I see.”

She looks across at Mac. “I think he likes you.”

I look at her very lovely face, neck and finally her chest area. She is not wearing a bra
as far as I could tell. Her nipples are a tale-tell to that fact. She has full and very pert breasts that are more than a good handful. They are cupped beautifully by the shaped dress top held tentatively by two thin straps over her delicate shoulders.

“Where’re the restrooms?” She asks breaking my contemplation.

“Back there and to the left…right, yours are on the right.” I say quickly, first sending her to the men’s room.

She returns a few minutes later. As she walks back towards me I take in her perfections. She has very nice legs and slender ankles. She has small but curvy hips and a slender waist. Her breasts bounce and wobble as she walks and I notice she has attracted the attention of a couple of hardened drinkers; regulars that are married to the bottle and do not raise their heads for anything but another round of drinks. One of them starts singing a love song and reaches out towards her. Smiling, she navigates her way past him and returns to her seat.

“You have quite an affect on people.”

“Do I?”

“You know you do.”

“Do I have an affect on you?”

“Err, I guess so.”

I feel a foot between my legs. It starts to rub my crotch. I look around to make sure nobody has seen.

“It’s OK we can’t be seen here, there’s a board at the end of the table.”

She’s right, there is a board at the end of the table. We could be sitting here naked from the waist down and nobody would know. The sides of the seats are raised and sculpted which makes it difficult to get in and out. Whatever happens below the table is obscured from prying eyes.

I take hold of her leg and feel the softness of her skin.

“Take your shoes and socks off.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Your shoes and socks…take them off.” She replies as if I didn’t understand her the first time.

“Give me your foot?”

I raise my foot and she takes it in her hand. “Did you wash your feet today?”

“Yes…why?”

Before I can get an answer she slides my foot between her legs and presses it against her warm mound. “Wait a minute.” She says and removes her foot from my now very hard erection. She slides further into the booth and slides down the seat a little. She raises her leg onto her seat and guides my foot back towards her. My toes feel a hot wetness. She is wearing no panties. I slip my foot under a little more and explore her juices with my big toe. It is cramped and difficult. My knee is pressed hard against the bottom of the table which is only an arm length in width. I put my hand under the table and feel her thigh.

“I’ll come over there.” She whispers and starts to slide under the table. She emerges triumphant and as she wriggles onto the seat she gives me a kiss. We kiss again long and tender. Her lips are soft and easily parted with little pressure. Her perfume fills my nostrils. She turns and lays half across me. She continues to kiss me. My hand brushes her breast as it travels down towards her womanhood. Under the darkness of the table I feel my hand slide over a little crop of hair. A small triangle of down crowning a smooth soft mound. My finger slips deftly into her wet warmth. Her legs part a little more as I follow up with more fingers. There is a large wet pebble of a clitoris above this well of desire that responds to every touch. A hair
trigger that makes her hips jump at every stroke. I can see that her nipples are aroused and her chest is heaving heavily. I seriously want to take her there and then. I nearly do. I manage to arrest my desires and suggest that we take the action elsewhere. The thought does enter my head, that the chance may be lost. The magic of the moment all but gone for the sake of privacy.

“Let’s go

in the park.” She ejaculates.

Oh my saviour. I could never have said that. Was she reading my thoughts? How can she be that far ahead of me without knowledge of what I was thinking?

Now, the park is a dangerous place at night as everyone knows. However, if it was ever meant for one thing, 'recreation.' At night it must exist entirely for lovers of all inclinations.

We leave McClusky’s and start out towards the park. We pass a service entrance to two buildings. “The park is a bit dangerous at this time of night.” She states.

“I agree.” Christ are things cooling off?

“Let’s go in here.” She grabs my hand and leads me into the dark.

A lamp on the other side of a ten foot wall dimly lights a small area at the back end of the ally. Elle places her back against the wall. It is dry. It is about the only dry wall in the whole of Manhattan. Even though it is a warm June evening and the humidity is high you can be sure that bad building maintenance will ensure a wet wall somewhere. But not here, not tonight.

We start to kiss again. I hold her face, her lovely soft white face. I hold it gently in both hands. I guide them around to the back of her neck allowing her ear to rest between my thumb and my palm. Her face and head seems small in my hands as we suck and kiss each other’s lips. Elle rolls a strap off each shoulder and says, “Well what are you waiting for?”

I undo the clasp and then the zip on the back of her dress. The top slips down to her waist. Her breasts look wonderful in the dimmed light. They are bigger than I first thought and heavy as I cup them in both hands. I run my thumbs over each nipple. Elle is looking down at my hands as I stroke and pinch her stiff little erections.

My lips soon explore them and my tongue darts across each in turn. My hand goes down to her hem and starts its climb. “Uh uh.” She says and pulls my hand away.

“Are you kidding?”

“Just a little joke.”

My hand continues to climb up her smooth thigh. Elle lifts her leg and puts her foot on an empty carton. My hand soon reaches its destination and my finger slip easily past her hot wet lips and into her hot box. A perfect receptacle for all men’s' desires.

“

me.” She whispers.

Within the time it takes to blink, my trousers are around my ankles and I am lifting her onto my eager lance. Her left leg is over the crook of my right arm and penetration is silky smooth and deep. I pump that hot wet pussy and kiss her soft red lips, for what seemed like hours. We are in a sweat. Salty perspiration flows between her bouncing breasts. She changes her position, thrusting her little bottom upwards and towards me, as she braces herself on her arms against the wall. I enter her again, gliding fully in and fully out. Feeling every ripple of my tool as it plunges deep. Withdrawing to the very
tip, in unison, I poke and withdraw and she lets out a soft cry with each movement. Sloppy noises, rasps and sighs echo against the walls out into the street. Two guys stop and strain to look into the darkness. They kiss one another and walked on by. Elle grabs my bare leg and gives out a cry that sounds closer to childbirth than orgasm. Her hips begin to tremble. Her other hand grabs my other thigh and she pushes back harder. I hold her breasts and massage them and pinch her nipples hard. Her chest grows and she arches her back. She thrusts herself backwards three or four times impaling herself on my lusty sword; until eventually she grows limp in my arms. Exhausted by the intensity she pulls herself off me and slumps to the ground. “

me….

me.” She says…out of breath.

“I’ll be with you in a minute.”

She slowly turns around and sits with her back against the wall. “

me.” She says again wiping the sweat off her face and lamp lit breasts.

Here is a picture of natural female beauty. Sitting half naked in a New York alley at one thirty in the morning; out of breath and whispering profanities.

Elle then moves forward on her knees. I ‘m thinking, Oh boy I know what’s coming next.

“Ah there it is.” Elle grabs my member and begins to gently pull the skin backwards and forwards. I have rarely felt such a soft touch. Then as I look up to the heavens and talk to my imaginary higher self and thank him for what I am about to receive…Elle rolls her mouth over the end of my erection. Perfect timing. Oh thank you God, I am now a firm believer. Elle has a suction power, the envy of all household vacuums. I cannot believe what she is doing to my grateful little chappy. I tap her on the shoulder and give the recommended three minute warning about two minutes and fifty five seconds late. “I’m about to cu…uh…uh…umm.” She continues to fallate me. I am a powerhouse tonight. Not only do I outlast her but now I am relentless in my pumping ejaculation. I am impressed with my performance. She is speechless, I can tell. I am thinking that she is a definite stayer. Not once does she falter. Not once does she splutter. There is a slight gag at one point but she quickly gets it under control and finishes with a flurry. Oh thank you Gods of Crete, of ancient Rome or wherever else they created this incredible sex act. Elle sucks and licks the last drops off my tired penis. It is imaginative, vibrant and has great artistic appeal. If I were a judge at any athletic event in the world where this was performed, I would have held up a full ten points. I kiss her face, neck and tits and pull her dress back on her. I am sure to go down on her next time we meet and that is a promise I make to myself then and there. I tuck my throbbing tool back into my boxers and pull up my trousers. I zip up her dress and fasten the clasp. We leave the service alley. We walk up Seventh Avenue arm in arm, her head resting upon my shoulder.

“Was it my chat up line?” I ask, looking for affirmation.

She throws her head back and laughs. “No...that only looked as though you were paying me for a service.”

“Oh…I hadn’t thought of that.”

“I had already spotted you…I had moved to see if you were interest in me.”

“Well…

my old boots.” I was
right the first time, I had been out-manoeuvred.

“I didn’t imagine I had the slightest chance with you...because you are so young.”

“How old do you think I am?”

“I dunno...twenty...twenty-five?”

“I’m thirty four.”

“I’m very glad.”

“I’m married…”

“Oh God.”

“….just kidding.”

“

me.”

“Yes please.”

“Your place or mine?”

“Mine.”

Written by Elle Jansen (Nicentite) under the pen-name Jethro