The Order of Things

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


Sometimes it is the order of things that are important, something apparently lost on at least one of my friends, Robin. She and I were buddies, pals, best of friends. Close enough to be personal about anything and at the same time not to take anything personally. From time to time we made love.

I can’t remember what got us started that evening, only that I didn’t have any cowboy boots and that she wanted to go to some western club to meet a friend of hers. The club was a clean place that was starting to smell of sweat and spilled beer, but I knew would smell of ammonia and floor wax by the next morning. It was a little to tidy for my tastes, long ago having been an inhabitant of this kind of establishment. No, it was not gritty enough, too sanitary, and it was populated with people drinking domestic light beer out of plastic cups and was decorated with neon signs selling imitation bocks and youth. And to quote the movie line, ‘One thing I can say about Texas is, it’s loud.’

The front door was in a corner of the building and just inside was the bar. Booths and table lined up against the dark walls and the dance floor was a giant diamond in the middle lit like a Hill Billy disco. Above the dance floor was a big screen television that alternated between National Finals Rodeo, NASCAR and a the video of a song the DJ had chosen. That’s were all the action was, and I decided to stay between the bar and the door while Robin went further into the hinterland and search for her friend. So I leaned against the bar in my dress shirt and running shoes and watched accountants and salesmen wearing jeans and sharp pointed boots and starched shirts escorting waitresses and secretaries wearing short western skirts and boots. It was clear that some activities have uniforms and others have costumes.

It didn’t take long to decide on what beer to buy since it was ladies night and draft was a buck for the guys and free for the gals. I stood there on the empty side of the bar, nursing eight ounces of something that was sort of, but not exactly beer, and watching the front door.

It would seem that women almost always make the first move and it wasn’t long before a cute red headed gal stepped up to the bar about six empty stools away from me. She was a pixie and wearing a crimson dress that complimented her short red hair. She ordered a beer and gave me a sideways glance and half a smile. (As always I was just staring.) Half of me said walk down there and get a number; you never know what tomorrow might bring, while the other half just didn’t want to have to explain Robin to the pixie when she returned.

My eyes crossed the room, looking for my friend, and when I looked back the fates had saved me. A huge cowboy walked up to the pixie and immediately an argument broke out. I eased away. They obviously knew each other because they had lots to fight about and they knew the bouncer too, because he called them by name as he worked them out the door and into the parking lot. Patience, I thought, patience.

I went back to holding my beer and holding up my end of the bar and counting accountants. For a few moments I was lost in thought and that is when I heard Robin’s voice say, “Hi Mike, this is my old friend Marla. She just moved back from New Mexico”

I looked up and there they were, arm in arm. While Robin was dressed the part of the cowgirl, Marla lived it. She was wearing a pair of jeans that had seen their time outdoors. The cuffs were shredded over the tops of her worn boots and as the jeans lead up her legs, barb wire nicks speckled the fabric. There as a giant nick over on the left leg that was tearing out and showing a lot of knee, but it was the way that they fit, fit over a body that was taught and lean that caught my eye the most. Marla was wearing a black sleeveless shirt with a crushed cowboy hat that looked like it was seasoned honestly. Her face was long and her smile wide and her black eyes sparkled despite the darkness of the bar. There was an edginess about her, a feeling that spoke of something moving her deeper than appearances.

Instead of reaching for my hand she leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, keeping her hand on my shoulder as she drew away. Robin was still arm in arm with her as she kissed me, close, and if I didn’t know better I would say that she was holding onto Marla’s belt loop. I pressed my hand into the small of Marla’s back and she responded by stepping closer and smiling.

“How do you know Robin?” Marla asked.

“Oh I’ve known Robin a long time.” I replied.

“Bet I’ve known her longer.” Marla shot back, looking unflinchingly into my eyes.

“Yea, Robin and I are pretty close. She’s talked about you a lot. I’m surprised that we’re just meeting.” I said, wanting to avoid any unnecessary competition.

Marla turned to look at Robin. As they stood there faces inches apart something seemed to pass between them. Marla gave Robin a look and I realized that something was going to happen that night.

After a few songs, and the guys realized that kurtköy escort I was with both girls and neither, the girls were dancing far more than they were drinking. I danced some too. I could still hold my own on the dance floor, scootin’ a running shoe instead of a boot. Marla was a far better dancer than I and the popular new girl among the cowboys. We had taken over a table and when the girls were dancing with someone else I happily sat there watching the crowd and trying to guess if Robin would be horny and willing when the night was over.

There was a break in the music. Robin and Marla walked slowly back from the dance floor leaving two pleading men behind them. Marla sat down at the table and lifted her beer while Robin broke off and went toward the ladies room.

There was an odd silence, a moment between Marla and I. We turned toward each other and she gave me the same look that she had given Robin. I recognized it now, that over confident I’m going to tie your hands and make you scream and shiver look. It was something that I wanted to do to the taught cowgirl.

“How many times have you fucked her?” Marla asked, leaning into my ear.

“That’s a hell of a question.” I answered with a grin.

“Well, I have to know.” She insisted.

“Why?” I asked.

She leaned into me a little father. I felt the flat of her hand squarely on my leg. Not a kindly pat on my knee, but far enough up to trigger some feelings.

“Depends, you tell me first, then I’ll tell you why.” She lifted the bottle to her lips and inch from my ear.

I leaned back, careful not to move my leg from under her warm palm. “Well,” I said beginning to count on my fingers. “There was the first time.” I folded a finger down. “And then.” I folded down several fingers before turning to Marla. I leaned back into her, brushing her cheek with my own. “Don’t know for sure. I generally quit counting around twenty or so.”

“So that’s why she’s talking about you so much.” She edged closer to me.

“I thought you were going to say you’d been with her more than me.”

She smiled and I felt a finger moving against my jeans. “She was always Miss Goody Two Shoes. I kissed her playing spin the bottle. Rite of passage and all that shit. She always wanted to, but she was afraid.”


“And she kisses good, don’t you think?” She stared at me with that ‘I’m going to eat you’ look again, this time a little more contrived.

Those coal black eyes were inches from mine. My hand wandered to her firm ass. Under her hand I was getting hard. I turned my face squarely to hers and we fell into each other, kissing harder, longer than I had ever kissed anyone in my life. When we stopped I looked around. Robin was nowhere to be seen.

Marla was more direct now, more honest. She had moved her hand to cover my crotch and she squeezed. “Y’all have to take me home with you.”

“Tonight?” I asked wondering how this was going to impact my plans with Robin.

“Yea, tonight. Tell you what. I’ll pretend I’m too drunk to drive. Then you can take me with you as a public service.”

“I’m driving a corvette.”

Her eyes lit up. “That’s even better.”

Robin came back and Marla did nothing. We sat and laughed, drank up our beers. I pulled Robins chair closer to mine. Marla was still leaning toward me, hand in my lap. Robin looked down long and hard and when she looked up I smiled.

“Hey Red, wait until I get you to my car.” I whispered.

She lowered her chin, watching me. Suddenly Marla stood up and pulled Robin from her chair. The Cotton Eyed Joe had started.

Country line dancing is controversial. Some love it, some hate it and everybody does it. I jumped up to join them. After the Cotton Eyed Joe there was the Shoddish and when that finished a waltz started. We circled and looked at each other, both women wanting to dance and only one man. Marla got the hint when I smiled and nodded and she pulled Robin off into the crowd.

Women dancing with women is not that unusual in Texas, but generally it’s early in the evening when the men are still getting drunk and building courage. Now it looked a little strange and by the time a couple of songs were over and the girls came back to the table some in the place were looking at us a little askew. I had pulled both chairs up, one on each side of me and when the girls came back they each took one, Robin on my left and Marla on my right. I wrapped my arms around them, kissing each on the cheek in turn and pulled them to me.

Both were hot, sweaty. Both were breathing a little hard, and short of Marla’s wandering hand nothing could have been a better turn on. We watched the swirling crowd on the dance floor while we drank another beer. I felt something on my leg again, at first believing that Marla was getting feely once more, but soon I realized that Robin was holding her beer in her left hand. When I kissed her cheek Robin smiled. When I kissed Marla’s she nodded levent escort toward the door.

We walked out in the order we sat together, Robin on my left, Marla on my right and the regular crowd watched with a questioning eye. As we stepped into the parking lot I held them up and quickly kissed both in front of the door.

Robin laughed and pressed her hand against my chest. “Girl boy girl.” She said pointing to herself, me and then Marla.

“How drunk are you?” Marla asked.

“Drunk enough.” Robin said.

Marla face curled into a grin. “What’s wrong with girl, girl, boy?”

Robin seemed puzzled. “Nothing I guess.”

“And you?” I asked Marla.

“Too drunk to drive.”

“I’ll take you home.” I suggested.

“That sounds like a pick-up line. Whoop.” Robin yelled drawing everyone’s attention. Suddenly she became stoic. “Hey, we’re in the Vette. Where’s she gonna sit?”

“You’re littler than me. You sit in my lap.” Marla suggested.

Surprisingly the idea went down like a sugar pill and soon I was driving through the neighborhood backstreets with Marla and Robin in the seat beside me. It wasn’t long before I felt Marla’s creeping hand and at a stop sign I noticed that her other hand rested quietly high on Robin’s thigh as she kept Robin chatting with some bawdy conversation I could barely hear over the motor and the wind.

Somewhere close to home Marla and Robin kissed. Not a passionate kiss, but an overly friendly kiss. I could feel Marla squeeze my crotch at the same time and it was all I could do to keep for thrusting my free hand into the tangle beside me. When they broke, Marla suggested a night cap at her place. Quickly all agreed and the table was set.

Marla’s complex bordered a field and was circled by a parking lot. As we idled around she pointed into the air to indicate her apartment. I parked several steps away from the entrance, careful to put the Vette under a streetlamp because I wanted to watch the girls climb out. Robin had been a gymnast and any hope for a drunken fumbling, stumbling, comical exit was lost as she easily pressed herself up from Marla’s lap. Now Robin was wearing the cowboy hat and she handled it like someone who wore one once a year at a county fair, giggling and constantly adjusting the oversized straw on her head.

“Girl, boy, girl.” Robin laughed taking up her place under my left arm.

“Girl, girl boy.” Marla said as she slipped in beside Robin. “Sometimes the order it important.”

I laughed to myself. I had seen those advertisements and knew the code, but knew the whole thing was lost on Robin. As we walked across the drive and up the stairs, I wondered if she really knew what was up, the plan, so to speak. When Marla opened the door and stepped inside, Robin stopped me on the landing.

“Hey sport. You up for it?” She grinned and looked at me with excited eyes.

I had my answer so I escorted her inside.

Marla’s apartment was surprisingly Crate and Barrel considering her taste in clothes and bars. There was a wall dedicated to photos of horses and otherwise the typical apartment furniture layout. Mail lay on the counter, Western Horseman sat askew and mixed with Cosmo on the coffee table.

“Here, have a beer and a seat.” Marla said as she stepped to the kitchen and opened the fridge.

With fresh beers in hand Robin and I plopped down on the couch. After a pull or two on real longnecks, I turned to her and gave her a long, easy, wet kiss. Marla had stepped away into the bedroom, but returned before we were finished.

“Damn, you would think that pants got looser dancing, not tighter.”

Robin and I looked up to see Marla standing before us in her sleeveless shirt, some very plain panties and white athletic socks. “Hope y’all don’t mind. I had to peel those jeans off.” She took a pull on her beer and started our way.

“Know exactly how you feel.” I grinned.

“Awww, you’re tennis shoes too tight?” Robin joked patting my leg.

“Pants.” I replied as I set my beer on the end table beside me and pulled her to me for another kiss.

Robin was in the center of the couch and as I reached to unbutton her shirt I could see Marla coming toward us out of the corner of my eye. I pressed my fingertips inside Robin’s bra like a teenager and she pulled herself to me just as Marla sat down on the couch beside her. I could feel Robin tense in my arms so I pulled her into me, grabbing her breast a little harder than I knew she enjoyed. I searched for Marla, finding her hair and running my fingers through it.

As I held Robin I could feel Marla closing in on her, getting closer and closer. I moved quickly to unbutton Robin’s shirt and start on her pants. Robin’s bra had a clasp in front and quickly her small breasts were free. There was another hand on her now. Robin struggled to pull free and for a second we broke up.

I kicked off my shoes and stood. As I did Marla pulled Robin to her and kissed mahmutbey escort her deeply. At the same time she moved her hand from Robin’s breast and Robin relaxed. I quickly pulled off my jeans and boxers in one quick move and then I jerked my shirt over my head.

Marla stopped kissing Robin and looked up at me. “Ready for us huh?”

“What’s it look like?” I asked.

She looked at Robin. “Think he can handle it?”

“We’ll see.” Robin said, then with some pause. “I think I need a shot.”

Marla rose and walked toward the kitchen. I pulled Robin to her feet and cuddled her for a moment before beginning the strip her. We kissed and after I had removed her blouse and bra, I placed her hand on my cock as I kissed her and started unbuttoning her jeans.

I don’t know what was more provocative, her fist squeezing my cock in that familiar way as we kissed or the feeling of my knuckles against the soft skin of her belly. There was a clack on the coffee table as Marla brought three shot glasses and a bottle of Tequila. Marla began pouring as I knelt before Robin to pull down her jeans.

Robin took a shot and wobbled. It took the smallest push to press her back into the couch. I took her feet, pulling off her small boots and tossing them into the corner by the door. Marla filled the glasses as I pulled Robin’s jeans off her legs. Robin was wearing pink panties and she obediently lifted her hips as I started to roll them down her legs, exposing a velvet trim as bright red as her hair.

“You’ve done this before.” Marla said quickly tilting back a glass.

“Once or twice.” I said kissing Robin’s belly. I laid a string of kissed from her navel as low along her pubic hair as I could reach. For a brief second Robin opened her legs and let my tongue search.

She pushed me away. “Where’s that shot.”

As I stood Robin reached for one of the filled glasses on the table. Marla reached for me. Marla held my head with both hands and licked my face, drawing her tongue across my lips. I let her and began unbuttoning her blouse. Like Robin, her breasts were small. Unlike Robin her breasts were supple, not hard, but she was just as responsive, taking in a deep breath as I toyed with each nipple in turn. Again I knelt and this time pulled Marla’s panties to her feet so she could step out of them.

“Want a shot?” She asked as I rose. She held up a glass.

“No, not me. I’ve got quite a head start.” I said.

“Good man.” Marla filled the two empty glasses.

I sat down on one side of Robin and turned to her. Marla sat down on the other. As I reached for Robin again, so did Marla and, again, Robin’s body tensed. Quickly she pushed us away and stood.

“Let’s sit like this.” She said stepping away. Robin directed me to the center of the couch and took a shot before sitting where I had been.

Marla smiled, but it seemed a veneer. I kissed Robin for a moment before I turned to Marla. I held Marla’s shoulder in my hand as our lips touched. She tasted of tequila and was very, very eager. My fingers danced across her skin and I reveled in the silky softness. With deep breaths, Marla enjoyed our touch as well. If Robin was a gymnast, petite, flexible, Marla was the equestrian, strong lean muscles.

Robin’s hands were on me, pinching me, caressing me. For a time I turned to kiss her, caught in a sensual ecstasy until I felt Marla’s hand on my cock. When I turned back to Marla I watched her. Those coal black eyes pieced me as she stroked. Her soft, supple breasts danced with the movement of her arm. I took Robin’s hand and placed it on Marla’s leg and was surprised when she didn’t move it.

Robin began to kiss my shoulder, then my chest. I could feel her tongue lapping at my nipple, then on my side. As Robin’s familiar lips took me, Marla moved her hand down to massage my balls. For several very long and troublesome minutes I fought. This was all too much. Marla moved, bringing herself over me, pressing my head back into the couch. Robin sucked hard and deep. Normally quiet, Robin even began to moan. The sound of her taking me in her mouth drove me mad. I could feel my cock begin to pulse.

“Wait! Wait. Wait.” I said pushing them both away.

“What’s a matter Miles.” Robin said wiping the edge of her mouth.

“Yea, what’s the matter?” Marla echoed.

They both laughed at me.

“We have to take this to someplace more comfortable.” I said trying to pretend I was not about to lose it.

“There’s always the bedroom.” Marla grinned.

Robin sat up and emptied another shot of tequila. “I’ll be right back.” She padded off down the hall, closing the bathroom door behind her.

“She seems a little shy about you.” I whispered to Marla. I pressed a finger against the base of my cock to calm myself down.

“Yea, I know. Not what I had hoped for.”

“I’ve got an idea.” I said.

I stood and pulled Marla to her feet. She followed me easily to the bedroom. The room was a little more frilly than I expected, but Marla had surprised me enough for me to be expecting anything.

“Get on the bed.” I said pointing.

“How?” Marla asked crawling onto the fluffy comforter.

“On your back, long ways.” I replied swinging my hand back and forth. “Move a little closer to the foot of the bed. This will make her think things are what she expects.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Yer işareti koy Kalıcı Bağlantı.

Bir cevap yazın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak.