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Vicki’s Viewpoint Chapter 2
The clatter of the older Mercedes-Benz diesel brought me to peak through the curtain of my bedroom window. I smiled and watched as Mr. Schmidt went through his ritual. He placed his glasses on the dashboard; placed his wallet in the glove box and locked it; placed his cell phone under the front seat; and then examined himself in the rearview mirror. The routine was always the same. Moments later there was a sharp rap at the door.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Schmidt,” I said as I opened the door while standing behind it. “Come in, come in. It is so good to see you.”
“Ah, my sweet little angel, I like how you play hide and seek.” he chided with a laugh. “You know you are to call me Arnold.” The game had begun. He peaked around the door and reached out towards me. “Oh I see you have on my favorite robe. Thank you. Thank you. You are too kind to this old man. You always make my dreams come true.”
I grasped his hands, pulled him inside, and kissed him on either cheek. Before me, there stood a short bald man in his late seventies. He was dressed in a tweed three-piece suit complete with a gold watch fob across his belly and heavy brogue shoes. He handed me a small purple, plastic bag. It contained his regular donation, a small box of hand-made chocolates, and a yellow rose bud. His daughter owned a chocolate shop. The flower was from the garden shop he started over 30 years ago. He still spent some time each day there even though his son currently ran it.
I took the bag and placed it on the table by the door as I lead him into the bedroom. There I helped him off with his shoes and suit. I neatly folded his clothes over the chair by the window and placed his brogues at the side on the floor. As usual, just before he lay down on the bed, he gave me instructions on how to lay his tie over the arm of the chair. Once everything was in place, I turned to face him.
The site before me was comical. I bit my lip to ensure that I did not laugh aloud. There in the centre of my Queen bed was the wizened frame of Arnold. He was naked except for his bright red plaid boxer shorts and his black calf length socks, which were held up by garters. His arms stretched up to invite me and then he patted the bed with his left hand to show me where he wanted me to kneel. As I knelt beside him, he reached out and pulled at the drawstring of my silk robe. I allowed it to slip down my shoulders and expose my breasts to his view, but I did not remove my arms from the sleeves. His lips parted slightly and he smiled as he gazed at my breasts.
My hand deftly slipped through the fly of his underwear and found his penis. I curled my fingers around his flaccid member and began to massage and rub it. Arnold emitted a soft cough and a groan. I could fell his body relax and his cock begin to respond. I slowly increased my rhythm and pressure. I saw the muscles in his face begin to relax. His eyes closed and a smile spread across his face.
When I saw that his breath was coming in quick pants and that his leg muscles were beginning to stiffen, I quickly removed my hand. Slipping my fingers under the elastic of the waistband, I swiftly pulled down his boxer shorts to expose his now stiff and rampant dick. I re-adjusted my kneeling position and bent slightly forward so that Arnold had a better view of my tits. The final stage of the rub and tug had begun in earnest. Arnold arched his neck and his eyes widened. They flicked between my hand movements and the bounce of my breasts. His body tensed and Arnold emitted a series of soft coughs and grunts as ropes of thick cum splashed onto his belly.
The rattle and chug of Arnold’s diesel disappeared down the driveway. The entire visit, including the hot towel clean up and helping him dress, had taken less than half an hour. I retrieved the neatly folded bills from the plastic bag and placed them in the ice cream tub in the freezer. I could hear one of the decadent chocolate truffles calling out to me from the box. While preparing coffee and a snack of cheese, smoked salmon, and crackers, I indulged in a chocolate fix.
On my veranda, I laid back in my chaise lounge enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon sun my coffee and my snack. Through the screen of the patio door, I could hear my cell phone ring. I ignored it, choosing to pamper myself in the luxury of controlling my own time.
I had fallen asleep on the recliner on the veranda and was now in the bath removing the early evening chill and relaxing. Leaning back on my inflatable pillow, I watch the bubbles swim around my nipples that poked through the water like little brown islands. My submerged hands were delicately playing with my pubic hair and clit. I was enjoying the sensations when my cell phone rang. Out of habit, I had taken it with me into the bathroom and placed it open in the towel basket beside the tub. The number on the screen was not one that I recognized. New clients were always welcome. I dried my hands and picked up the phone. I could never relax for long.
The apartment, located in one of those quadrangle bahis firmaları complexes made up of a series of buildings, was hard to find. The numbers were poorly lit and difficult to read. I telephoned and received detailed instructions that took me right to the door. Before knocking on number 116, I quickly checked my outfit.
I had chosen a simple black, V-neck cocktail dress, red leather pumps, matching purse, and a red cocktail jacket. I looked very classy and elegant. When he opened the door, it was apparent from the expression on his face that my client agreed with my evaluation. Unfortunately, he was not equally chic.
“Welcome, welcome Vicki. I’m so pleased to meet you. I’m Terry.” Terry looked like the typical ex-college hockey player. A muscular six-foot fame was now going to pot as he entered his mid thirties. Bright steel blue eyes beamed through wire rimmed glasses and a broad smile painted his ruddy face with a combination of happiness and eager anticipation. Unfortunately, he wore a Budweiser T-shirt and blue jeans with tattered cuffs. Somehow, from his voice on the phone I had expected more.
Nevertheless, he was polite and his pleasant demeanor set me at ease. Terry’s apartment was that of a typical bachelor. It reflected his persona and my caution meter dropped into the free from anxiety zone. A collage of hand-me-down furniture bracketed a huge flat screen TV in the living room while the dining room furniture consisted of a simple wooden table and chairs. However, I was not there to issue the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval and we quickly took care of the monetary aspects of my visit.
The jazz music provided by his satellite connection played softly in the background. We sat on his couch enjoying the taste of an excellent Merlot. After a few moments discussing the music and the wine, the conversation turned to sex and his expectations for my visit. I began to rub his thigh, while he lightly massaged my neck and shoulders. This soon led to some serious French kissing and some gentle groping of my breasts. I was now on the clock. I subtly checked my watch. The hour countdown had begun.
I brushed my hand down his chest and suggested that we continue the party in the bedroom. As we started towards bedroom door, I asked if I could use the bathroom first. A clean sink and bath with fresh towels greeted me when I pushed open the door. I was impressed. I used the toilet; freshened myself up with a couple of sanitary wipes, and applied the appropriate dabs of gel and White Shoulders to the proper places. Following a quick check in the mirror and I was ready.
The bedroom was a design disaster. D‚cor highlights were an old chest of drawers, a series of NASCAR posters, a Venetian blind, and a queen-sized bed. Terry, naked except for his T-shirt was in the center of the bed. He was unabashedly stroking his cock. I placed my purse by the door and removed my kit bag. Then I twirled and strutted along the side of the bed and placed my kit on the bedside table. I began a striptease show and encouraged him to assist.
Terry took instructions well. Soon I was naked and kneeling on the bed beside him. I took what I needed from the kit bag and straddled his chest. Terry immediately began to massage my back and hip. I rolled a condom over his now hard dick. As I bent forward to begin fellatio, I felt his face push between my thighs and his tongue move against my clit. His oral manipulations diverted my attention from the taste of latex in my mouth. It was something that I did not enjoy but had become accustomed to and now tolerated. I began the mandatory bobbing and sucking motions and hoped that his tongue would encourage my actions. I made the appropriate moaning sounds and squirmed but his attentions did not last long before he pushed me aside and asked me to ride him while he played with my tits.
I bounced up and down and ground against his cock. All the while, I fingered my clit and moaned. I could feel his body begin to tense. I urged him to squeeze my nipples. The actions of his fingers were just enough to bring me over the edge. We came together.
Like a gentleman, he led me to the bathroom to clean up. Terry ran hot water over a face cloth and delicately wiped my slit as I leaned against the counter. He gently dried me. The feel of the terry material against my pussy was electrifying. I moaned and spread my legs even more to improve his access.
Terry responded to my encouragement. His tongue found my clit. It felt good. I grasped his head with both hands and guided him. Like a good boy, he followed my directives. “…Oh, lick there…Faster…Oh yes, yes…Oh that’s it, suck it…suck it harder…” I panted as I enjoyed several small orgasms, which seemed to flow one into the other. Then he penetrated me with his fingers while he continued to lap at my pussy. His fingers curled and found the thickness at the front of my vagina. His finger movements and a series of vibrant sucks on my clit brought me to another shuddering climax.
It took m a little while to regain my composure and when kaçak iddaa I did, I realized my meter had run out. I softly cupped Terry’s face, bent down, and kissed his forehead. “Sweetie,” I whispered. “This has been fun, but if you want more I’ll need a least another half hour deposit.”
He laughed, rose from his knees, and went into the bedroom. I could here some drawers opening and closing and then he returned. “Sorry, I’m totally tapped out. I’ve had a great time but I don’t think I could rise to another occasion even if I wanted, he said with a sheepish grin.” We both looked down at his now shriveled penis and laughed.
Terry saw me to the door dressed only in his T-shirt. I rubbed his chin with my fingertips and kissed him on the cheek. I told him that it had been fun, let my hand fall from his chin, and slide down his chest. Then I said teasingly, “Don’t be a stranger, give me a call soon,” and playfully touched the end of his cock and fled the premises.
On the drive home, I realized just how tired I was. It had been a long day but profitable day. However, I was drained emotionally and physically. After a quick shower and a mug of hot coco, I fell into bed and slept soundly.
I rose later than usual the following morning, slipped into my floral silk robe, and padded in my bare feet to the kitchen. As I made coffee and prepared a breakfast plate of fruit, cheese, and crackers, I could feel that I was still tired. I turned off my phone and headed out onto the veranda to enjoy the morning sun. I rent a small cabin in a semi-rural area just on the outskirts of the city. The area is consists of a strange mix of hobby farms, vineyards, and rural housing. My home overlooks one of the largest vineyards in the area. This morning I watched as a group of workers hand thinned the vines.
The sun was warm and there was a slight breeze. I enjoyed my breakfast, the warmth of the sun, and the scene before me. As I sipped the last of my coffee, a strange, faint smell caught the attention of my nose. It was combinations of the ammonia from the henhouse of the hobby farm a mile away and smell of warm damp earth. Nevertheless, the odor stirred, in my mind, the image of a recent encounter.
It had occurred several weeks before. I had taken a needed night off and was treating myself to a glass of wine and appetizers in The Grand Hotel’s quiet Water Garden Bar. The Grand is one of oldest and best hotels in the city. The lighting low lighting and table candles, the quiet music, and dance of the water in the corner fountain created a warm romantic and relaxing ambiance.
I sensed his presence before I actually saw him. He was standing beside me and spoke when I looked up. “Sorry to interrupt, but I noticed that you were alone and wondered if I could offer you another glass of wine?” It was not the most original hit line I had ever heard but the delivery caught my attention. There was a glass of red wine in his hand and an open bottle of a very expensive Cabernet and another glass at his side. He was ruggedly handsome. Dressed in a dark suit and silk shirt open at the neck, he oozed confidence and sexuality.
I invited him to join me. He placed the wine before me and when the waitress approached, he ordered a plate of appetizers. He flashed her a knowing smile when she delivered the food and she let us lone for the rest of the evening. An hour of very pleasant conversation and several glasses of excellent wine followed. During that time, I learned that Steve was a former NHL hockey player who was now a sales representative for a vintage wine brokerage. He was at the hotel for a sales conference. When he asked me what I did, I opened my purse. As I handed him the card, I leaned across the table giving him an ample view down the front of braless cocktail dress. I maintained my pose as he read “Vicki’s Trulytaylored Enterprises…Occasion and Event Planning.” His eyes sparkled as he licked his lips and exhaled softly. “You can plan my event anytime…soon.”
Banter and laughter followed, but when the wine was gone, a silence grew between us. I realized that I was a more than a little tipsy and indicated that I should be going. I reached for my purse and my cell phone to call a cab. “Don’t go yet,” he said intently. “I have an offer for you. Tomorrow, I have to make a pitch for a fall wine festival. It’s my first big proposal and I get very nervous during presentations. Would you be willing to look at the plan and offer suggestions?” There was a twinkle in his eye, which did not match the sincerity of his request.
“Steve, I’ve had a long day,” I laughingly replied, “and my judgment may be clouded by the wine. Perhaps I should be going. Besides,” I continued, “I make it a rule, never give free advice. It’s worth nothing.”
He placed a hand on mine. The touch was electric. Then he smiled and pulled an envelope from the inside of his jacket pocket. “In here is a $500 gift certificate. I’ll exchange it for your advice.”
During the ride up in the elevator, we kissed passionately. As we walked down the hall, to his room he kaçak bahis cupped my breasts and I groped his ass. In the room, his clothes quickly became a neat pile and he stood only in his bikini briefs before the bed. The large prominent bugle and growing wet spot indicated his excitement. I could feel my own anticipation growing.
My lips found his nipples. He groaned. My knees bent and I slithered my way down his body with my tongue and fingertips. I slipped my fingers under the waistband of his underwear, with the intention of pulling them off with my teeth. As I drew the band towards my lips, I caught a whiff of something. It was neither a fresh male aroma nor the clean, sweat, delicious smell of sexual arousal. It was a pungent, acrid, rancid stench. He reeked and I almost gagged.
However, at this point, my fingers were actually around his cock. I found myself in a difficult position. Several solutions to my predicament flashed through my mind. Should I continue what I was doing and risk projectile vomiting as I attempted to slide his smelly cock into my mouth? Should I just politely toss him off inside his briefs in the faint hope of avoiding the dreadful stench coming from his groin? On the other hand, should I show my disgust, stop groping his penis, and tell him to go and wash it immediately?
My solution surprised me. It gives me little pride to describe what I did next. I promptly removed my hand from his underwear and pushed him roughly onto his back. I quickly climbed onto the bed. With my left hand, I hiked the hem of my cocktail dress up over my hips. As I straddled him, my right hand forcibly pressed against his chest. Then in a combination of anger and erotic frenzy, I dry-humped his brief-covered erection until I had an orgasm.
Steve lay on the bed passive and stunned by my erotic fury. It was obvious that he was not used to a woman taking control. However, before he could come to his senses, I sprang from the bed, picked up his suit jacket from the floor and ripped the gift certificate envelope from the inside pocket. As I ran from the room, I tossed the jacket in the direction of Steve’s prostrate body.
The sound of the diesel tractor and the voices of the vineyard workers startled me from my daydream. I felt a little guilt in the back of my mind, but the growing heat and tingling in my lower abdomen quickly replaced it. The daydream had made me horny.
I laid back in the chaise lounge and allowed the sun and my imagination to warm my body. I sat up looked about and down on vineyard below me. The workers were now trimming the vines by my driveway fence. While I could clearly hear their conversations, they could not see me lying on my veranda chaise. The angle of the hill and rose arbors around the porch obscured their view. I lay back in the lounger, drew up my knees, pulled at the drawstring of my robe, and exposed my nakedness to the sunlight.
My left hand found my breasts and traced circles around my nipples. Then I began to concentrate its attentions on my left nipple. I teased it between my thumb and forefinger. It hardened under my touch. Each movement of my fingers sent an electric tingle through my abdomen. The fingers of my right hand now played with the hair of my mound. I began to softly moan as my fingers tentatively explored the heat and dampness of my groin. I could feel the sticky wetness on my knuckles as I started to stroke my outer pussy lips.
I began to quiver as my fingers rubbed my clit. I worked its hood back and forth. Through my erotic haze, I could hear my involuntary pants and moans. My fingers curled and penetrated. They seemed to have a mind of their own as they worked in and out and tantalized the front wall of my vagina. My thumb found my clit. A series of throaty passionate screams leapt from my throat as wave after wave pleasure flooded over my body.
The loud sound of my voice startled me from my pleasurable manipulations and my dream like trance. Shocked by my wanton display, I bolted from the lounger, and dashed into the house my open robe trailing behind me and exposing my nakedness to the world. I could hear the shouts and laughter from the workers in the field below. It was then that I saw the humor of the situation and convulsed in gales of laughter as I bent over the kitchen counter by the computer.
When I finally regained control and wiped away the tears of laughter from my face I glanced at the computer screen. In the corner was the pulsing signal that indicated I had a new email. At first, I just wanted to ignore it, but curiosity overcame my desire to disregard the world around me. I opened the message. It was from Jim. It seemed hard to believe that only yesterday, Jim and Arnold Schmidt had nearly passed each other in my driveway. So much had happened in only 24 hours. It was only the day before that Jim was here, taken a series of photos, and set up my website for me. Now he announcing that he had finished “processing” the photos and was wondering when he could show them to me and add them to my website. I did not know what to say. I was pleased with the site as it was. What was there to change? However, I was intrigued. I quickly typed a reply. “See you tomorrow at 10. Bring the photos and wine. We’ll have some fun and work things out. Hugs, Vickie.”
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