A Jacks - Passion_s Her Game

She said, "Feel me here, Mack," putting my hand on her left breast. My hand rushed hot and cold as it caressed her nipple, and my cock ached, pulsing for her body. Knock it off, I told myself, don't get started. But I felt her lovely nipple get bigger and grow firm.

"How does it feel?" she said. I cupped her breast, stroked it softly. It was firm and hard and beautiful. Her mouth came up to mine in the darkness, and her tongue slid right in. She could kiss. She ran her tongue around my mouth, then over my lips, under my lips, then back inside my mouth. Her mouth was hot! She pulled out her tongue and began to lick my neck. I manipulated her nipple between my thumb and forefinger. I felt my guts churning with excitement. Suddenly she broke away and sagged back against the booth, her mouth open and panting. I was really shook up. Get the hell out of here, but I didn't move.

But she knew she had me hooked. She knew I was hot to go. But if I got mixed up with this puss sure as hell I'd start drinking and swinging again and I'd forget about Binks today. But I could feel myself sliding away, my whole body wanting her. No. No. Don't fall for it. Hang on. Knock it off. Split fast. Get out.

"Listen," I said. "I can't now. Later. Tonight after I get a room. Christ, not here."

She made sniffling sounds as I pushed her away gently. I felt my balls throbbing; my cock was so hard it hurt, longing for her flesh. Beat it, I thought, get over to see Binks before you blow the job you don't even have yet. But she came back over against me and shoved her soft nipple against my arm and put her head on my shoulder. Her mouth was open against the side of my throat and I felt my hand going inside, down inside the top of her dress and then I found the nipple.

She slid down slowly in the middle of the curve of the booth. It was really dark in that part of the booth, and the back of the booth was high so nobody could see us from that side and only the waitress would see us if she came right up to the booth.

I opened her dress and leaned down, put her nipple in my mouth and licked it slowly with my tongue.

She murmured, "Oh, darling! Darling!"

I bit her nipple softly. She grabbed my hand and shoved it up under her skirt and pushed me up. Her panties were moist.

"They'll see us," she said. "Just sit still." But she didn't take my hand away. "Oh, God, I'm burning up," she said. "Get me off. Please, get me off."

She pulled her panties right down to her knees and spread her legs. "Oh, God, stick your finger in. Get me off!"

Believe me, that hole was tight and juicy. I got my left forefinger in all the way, right to the hilt, with my right arm around her shoulder, like a very affectionate couple just sitting together in a bar. This must be some crazy fetish with her, wanting to get her gun off in a bar booth. I was willing to bet she'd done it before. Probably a lot. What a sweet little garden of delight was planted between those two soft, firm thighs. I felt the lips of her pussy spread wider and wider. I put the tip of, my finger against her cunt; she had to put her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming out loud. She just sat there and squirmed her ass around without moving her shoulders so nobody could tell in the darkness of that room that she was really reaming; herself. Good thing it wasn't my right hand, or she would have cut my passing down at least ten yards.

Back and forth, Mary Beth squirmed on my finger. I felt her little cunt really squeezing. What a sweet fuck she would make.

She gasped. Her eyes narrowed with exquisite pain. She lifted her buttocks to lengthen the stroke. I knew she'd come now about four times, but there was no stopping her.

Meanwhile, my nuts felt the size of tennis balls. They hurt like hell. I wondered when the hell it was going to be my turn to get off.

I felt her opening her thighs wider and wider. Then, bringing them together, pumping and squeezing, opening and closing, she finally blew the big one and collapsed against me.

My balls were ready to burst.

She sagged against me, but I took her hand and opened my fly and up jumped my dick. I put her fingers on it. She gave it a squeeze.

"Poor baby," she said affectionately, as if speaking to my cock. "Mary Beth's been getting all the fun. Now it's your turn."

Wow!

She had professional fingers. My cock never got jerked off like that before. Frankly, I don't know exactly what she did, but it was pure perfection. First, just kind of dipping the tip of her finger into the slit, while letting another finger slowly stroke the vein down the back.

"Easy baby," she said. "Mama's gonna take real good care of you."

I felt the top of my skull starting to crawl. She played with it like it was a special toy she really loved. She would draw the foreskin slowly over the throbbing head, hold it there, squeeze softly, then slowly peel the foreskin back. Then, with just her thumb and forefinger, she gently stroked the head, back and front, round and round, gentle as caressing feathers. Rippling waves of pleasure ran up and down my cock. The head of my cock was jerking and throbbing. How that little girl could pull and caress my root. Wow!

I came in a wild spasming contraction of my hips, like I'd been hit from the blind side on a busted play. I thought I was going to roll out of the booth and take a mandatory eight count on the floor.

She caught my wrist and the next thing I knew she was taking care of the come around my cock with a napkin. I felt the top of my head come back and settle down on my skull. After a long moment she said, "Happy?"

"Mmmm."

"Feel good?"

"Mmmmm."

"You like it better than the real thing?"

"Not quite," I told her.

"Sometimes it's better than being knocked up."

"You get off a lot like this?"

"Sometimes," she smiled and nestled her head on my shoulder.

The waitress came up.

"Same for her," I said. "Nothing for me."

When the waitress went away I said, "Thanks for the chat. See you around."

Well, I was still in the clear. I hadn't taken a drink. I felt better about that. I hadn't been laid. I didn't feel so good about that now. But that wasn't what mattered. What mattered was Binks. Would he give me another chance to play football?

"Don't forget," she said. "You can always find me at Larson's Supermarket."

"Rebellion prices

"You're funny," she said.

Yup. That's me. Matt Scallen. A real card.

I went straight out to Rodger Binks' office.

"Matt Scallen," I told the girl at the desk. "To see Mr. Binks."

"One moment, please. I'll see if he's in."

Where else would he be, but in? Who was she kidding?

"Mr. Scallen to see you," she said into the telephone.

There was a long pause while Miss Receptionist played cool-eyed, listening to whatever Binks was telling her. I had a good idea what he might be asking. She put down the telephone and showed all her super-white teeth.

"You can go in," she said.

Binks hadn't changed. Not a lot heavier than when he'd quit quarterbacking for Pittsburgh ten years ago. The office was expensive but plain. No autographed pictures of old buddies and this year's heroes. Not even the wife and kiddie picture on his desk.

He just looked at me. The same old flat gaze.

"I thought you were selling stocks and bonds," he said.

I grinned. What else could I do? I picked out a chair and sat down.

"Are you off the sauce?" Binks asked.

"Nothing to drink in a year," I said.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"I heard you were picked up for drunken driving," he said.

"You heard wrong," I said. "You can always check it."

He stuck his thumbs in his vest. Mr. Corporation.

I looked at his clothes. Three-hundred-dollar suit. A little old boy out of a Texas swamp. He'd gone a long way on a Texas Christian option play. He was guts from hell. I looked at the scar down the side of his skull, the busted nose; the broken jaw didn't show – they'd wired it good. I wondered if he had trouble getting up after sitting two hours in a movie with those bad knees. And the punctured lung only the Mayo Clinic could fix. But nobody was trying to kill him every week anymore.