I was definitely out of my comfort zone. She was at least twenty years younger than me, maybe even a little more than that. She had a sexy Latin or at least part Latin look about her. She even had a slight accent. Dark curly hair, olive skin, blue eyes and a great body, she was still young and taut. And she had lots of tats. I had spoken with her once before, about two weeks ago, but it was easier then. She was with two of her girlfriends, one who I already knew from the afternoon pub scene. I didn’t stay out late any more and it was definitely refreshing to see a younger hot woman against the backdrop of the older afternoon crowd, of which, at 54, I was one of the younger ones.
Her name was Tracy and there weren’t many people in the pub this Sunday afternoon. I had come in to watch some football games that weren’t on the regular local channels. The few others that were previously there had already left with the threat of the upcoming thunderstorm. There were only me, Tracy, and another older couple, probably in their late sixties at the far end of the bar. The older barmaid, Joanne, was keeping them company discussing insurance or something. It was currently pouring down rain outside, a thunderstorm that came up suddenly like they often do in the Florida panhandle, only a few miles inland from the warm Gulf of Mexico. It kept us in the bar and everybody else out of the bar for the time being.
We made eye contact a couple of times and she smiled, seemingly remembering having met me before. I moved the short distance of the three barstools between us and said Hi.
“Tracy, right?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yes, you remembered. I’m sorry’ but what was your name again?” she asked apologetically.
“Brian,” I replied. “I know your friend Autumn.”
“Yes, I remember meeting you, I just forgot your name, sorry,” she said, again sounding sincerely apologetic.
I looked at my phone and pulled up the weather radar as I sat next to her. She seemed to welcome my approach.
“Looks like the rain is going to be with us for another twenty or thirty minutes,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound like a science geek. Secretly I was glad, because it would give me more uninterrupted time to talk to her and not seem too aggressive. She was the center of attention, for good reason, in a sea of older male patrons when I met her previously.
“Want to play a game of pool?” I asked, knowing that she liked to play.
“Sure”, she said. “I’m not great, but I enjoy playing.”
The bar was generally dark all the time, even during the day with the only view of outside through the glass door. There was nothing fancy about the place with its antiquated décor and vinyl covered elbow padding on the bar, but it was close to home. The games on TV were muted and there was a playlist of country music blasting from the internet jukebox that was competing with the rain for decibel superiority. Besides the golf game that used curse words when a player made a bad shot it was probably the only upgrade to the establishment since the late eighties. I went to the bar to get another Bud Light Platinum for myself and a rum and Coke for Tracy. When I made it to the pool table she had already put the money in the table and racked the balls. I had noticed her extensive body art before, but it really stood out under the light of the pool table.
We ended up playing two games, each of us winning one apiece. Our skill level was about the same, somewhere between mediocre and pretty good. We each had our moments. She noticed that I kept looking at her and that I seemed more interested in her than I was in the game as we went back to the bar and reclaimed our seats. She sat to my right.
“Your tats really look good in the light,” I said, hoping not to sound geeky. Without thinking I touched her left forearm and asked about an angel she had there. It was pretty big and I know most people who get tattoos have a story behind each one. I, myself, had none.
“Yeah, my Mom died when I was a teenager. She was always my angel and my rock growing up in Texas.”
“You have so many,” I said, genuinely interested in her stories. The rain continued Konyaaltı Escort to come down, however, lighter than it had been when we started playing pool. I had also been through two more beers and was feeling very comfortable talking with my hot younger friend. She seemed at ease with me, despite the obvious age difference. I guess it’s true that some younger women really like older, more mature guys.
I then slid my index finger up her left arm and asked about a star she had tattooed on her tricep. All of her tats seemed to connect with a nice flow, unlike many disjointed and unrelated tattoos I see on so many people. She didn’t seem to mind my touching at all, rather, she seemed to enjoy it.
She told me a few more stories, revealing a few I hadn’t seen, covered under her shirt. She even exposed almost half of one of her boobs to show and tell about another. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was getting a little aroused by showing. I wondered if she was into exhibitionism? I have seen and chatted with women online who enjoyed exposing themselves, knowing that they were turning on their audience. The difference was that she was up close and personal.
“I have them all over my body,” she explained. “My ex-husband was a tattoo artist and he used me as a canvas for the few years we were together.”
“Well, he’s definitely talented,” I said. “I’d love to see them all and hear the stories behind them.”
She didn’t give an immediate response, but just smiled when I said this.
The rain finally subsided, and more people began to come into the bar. The regular crowd appeared over the duration of my next beer to include her friend Autumn. The subject turned to a quick discussion about motorcycles and I showed her pics of my Road King on my phone. I finished my beer and excused myself since it was supper time and I already skipped lunch. I said goodbye and left the girls to themselves, the older men in the bar swarming like vultures, already starting conversations with the two younger ladies.
***
The next morning, I woke up and naturally checked my phone. There was almost always a work text to start off my Mondays. To my surprise I had a multimedia message from a number that wasn’t saved as a contact. I opened it and was pleasantly surprised to find two pictures of Tracy; one showed her upper body in a halter top revealing more tattoos and the other showing her legs in some ridiculously short cut-off jeans with a message that read, ‘Here’s the rest of me.’
I smiled as I enjoyed viewing her seamless collection of body art and sent them to my computer for a larger view. After cleaning up and getting dressed for work, I looked at the larger view on my computer screen. All kinds of naughty thoughts ran through my brain. Feeling slightly bold and even more aroused I sent a reply, ‘What a mouthwatering art exhibit, but it was much more fun playing show and tell.’
I made it all the way to work in uneventful fashion. Near mid-day I received a reply from Tracy, ‘Maybe if you take me for a ride on your Harley we can continue that game.’ There was a pair of big juicy cartoon lips at the end of the message.
***
The remainder of the week passed with a few texts between Tracy and me, each progressing in their flirtatiousness without getting obscene. We were both off weekends, so I told her I would keep an eye on the Weather Channel and we could play it by ear with the bike ride. The weather was finally cooling off in the panhandle and the evenings were pleasant to ride in just a long sleeve t-shirt and jeans.
Saturday came around and the weather looked agreeable for a nice ride. I texted Tracy and asked her if late in the afternoon around four o’clock would be suitable. She replied back saying she was looking forward to it and texted me her address. We both lived close to our little pub, separated only by an elementary school and a few blocks. I guess the majority of the older crowd lived close, also, since it was often the same crowd.
When I arrived, I pulled into her driveway and the door was slightly ajar. I knocked and heard her say, “Come in, I’m almost ready.” I let myself Escort Konyaaltı in and saw that there was college football on TV, so I sat and watched. It was a team from Texas in what looked to be a tight game. She previously told me at the bar that she liked watching football, especially the Cowboys.
We cruised the beach and ended up at a local bar familiar to all bikers in the area. Her football game was still on and we settled in for a couple of drinks. I saw some familiar bikes and couples and actually got a few thumbs up, unseen to Tracy, for the hot young chick who was accompanying me for the ride. Even some of the girlfriends of my friends winked at me. It was all fun.
After the end of the game we cruised back over the bridge toward home. The ride was always scenic and sometimes taken for granted with the confluence of bays and the Gulf of Mexico always available for viewing. It just seemed better on a bike, and even better with a hot woman clinging closely to me, with her hands around my waist the entire ride.
When we got to her house the sun was just beginning to set. The Fall time change hadn’t occurred yet, so with the cooling temperatures it was just perfect. Her Toyota was in the driveway and I parked as close to it as I could. She mentioned earlier that she had a teenage daughter who worked as a hostess at one of the local Mexican restaurants. I honestly wasn’t sure how things would progress, but she helped with a cue when she invited me in.
We walked into the small kitchen and then the den. Her house was laid out similar to mine, built in the same era, just a few blocks away. She left the TV playing on ESPN while we were gone and there was a different college football game on. Brownie points for her, as I love watching college football, too. She invited me to have a seat on the sectional and went back into the kitchen. We really hadn’t drunk much during the course of the day because we were riding on the bike. She returned with a drink in her hand and, surprisingly, handed me a Bud Light Platinum from her fridge. Major points!
After a while of watching a blowout game and not really talking much, she stood up and asked, “Would you still like to see more of my tattoos?” We were both getting pretty buzzed at this point.
“I’d like that very much,” was my reply. Duh! Did she think a single guy twenty years her senior would say no? She was being coy, and I knew it, not wanting to appear as the aggressor, letting me decide if I wanted to be or not. She then disappeared down the hallway and the game on TV suddenly became uninteresting. When she returned she was wearing the same short pants and halter top that she sent me pics of. I had no complaints.
The den had been lit up only with the TV to this point and she turned on the overhead ceiling fan light when she entered the room. She pulled the ottoman away from the couch, about two feet from where I was sitting, and she sat facing me. She made no effort to cross her legs or pretend to be coy anymore.
“Which other tats do you want to know about?” she asked, with an air of confidence in her voice, as she sipped her rum and Coke. I looked at her legs and there was a beautiful parrot and a lizard on each of her inner thighs that disappeared under her cut-offs. I didn’t want to seem too aggressive, so I stood up and walked behind her without saying anything. I then touched her right shoulder and asked her about a cloud and cross, obviously with religious significance. I let my hand remain on her shoulder and even gave a very subtle massage motion. She leaned back into my thigh and explained the story of her grandparent’s faith and how they were also a big influence in her life. “Mis abuelos”, she called them. I did understand bits and pieces of Spanish. I lifted the bottom of her shirt from her waist and she told me about the big aguila, or eagle with its wings spread, as I massaged her lower back with both hands. I was really starting to get into her and felt she was into me as well.
I took about a minute, even though it seemed much longer, massaging her lower back without either of us speaking. I then moved my hands up to her neck and Konyaaltı Escort Bayan massaged the base of her scalp lightly with my fingertips. I leaned in and kissed her gently on her neck and heard a muffled moan escape her lips. As I looked over her shoulder and down onto her legs, I couldn’t take my eyes off the parrot and the lizard, each facing inward on her inner thigh. My curiosity had finally caught up to my level of arousal, or maybe the other way around, so I had to ask her.
“What about these?” I asked, leaning over, stroking each thigh simultaneously and letting my fingertips violate the boundaries of the threads of her cutoff shorts. She had to have felt my hard cock pressed against her back.
“El loro and la lagartija,” she said, exhaling and moaning at my touch, this time not trying to hide it. She then reached behind herself and cupped my hamstrings leaning back into me. The back of her head pressed against my cock, which was already hard. Another uninhibited moan departed her lips.
I decided I wanted to see them, and I wanted to see them now. I reached down and unfastened the button on her cutoffs and undid her zipper immediately afterwards. She removed her hands from the back of my legs, leaned into my thighs with her shoulders to support her weight, and in one swift motion she lifted her butt just high enough off the ottoman to drop her shorts on the floor. She then put her hands on top of mine and took control, guiding them back and forth from her knees to the seam of her panties, and back again. She was wearing a white cotton thong, a beautiful contrast to her olive skin. I could sense a hint of a black bush through the material. I didn’t think my cock could get any harder, but I’m pretty sure it did just then.
“Mis animales favoritas”, she said in her sexy Spanish tongue. She then opened her thighs wider and I felt the control given back to me. I took it without hesitation, sliding my hands closer to her thong and away again in circular motion, incrementally decreasing the distance. I then alternated my motions and my right hand slid across her thong covered pussy first. Then away again, replaced by my left hand. She leaned back into me, this time grabbing my ass with no doubt of wanting to tease my cock with her hair. I could feel the increasing heat and moisture permeating her panties, as I enjoyed her increasingly louder moans. I let my fingers linger longer on her thong clad pussy, gaining the confidence to slide my fingers under them, as her legs parted even farther. I began to tease her clit like I did with her panties, alternating my hands over her pleasure button. She turned her head to the side just enough to kiss my dick through my jeans. She planted lovely, sensuous kisses up and down the length of my shaft.
Then the unthinkable happened.
“Oh, shit, my daughter!” she exclaimed in plain English as we saw headlights appear in the driveway and peer through the curtains. She then grabbed her shorts and rapidly put them on and directed me to the couch. She took a seat next to me, putting her feet on the ottoman. Her breathing was still heavy and my cock was still hard, but we were both able to disguise ourselves. We both heard the door open, and, to an astute observer we would have given clues that we had been up to mischief of some kind. Luckily her daughter didn’t seem to be bothered by my presence.
“Hi, Mom, I got off early tonight.” Her daughter said. The TV was still on and, like most Saturdays, one college game was replaced with another, so we looked innocent enough on the couch. Tracy introduced me to her daughter Maria.
“Nice bike,” she said, then disappeared to the back of the house. Tracy and I looked at each other and suppressed our laughs. I thought this was a good cue for me to leave, so I got up and entered the kitchen, bringing my empty beer bottle and Tracy followed. She walked me out to my bike and gave me a quick kiss, the kind that meant ‘more to come’, and she lightly rubbed her open hand against my crotch.
I drove the short distance home, it must have been about two to three minutes, tops. When I got in I noticed a new multimedia message on my phone. I opened it to see a parrot and a lizard both facing inward to a pair of obviously moist white panties against the backdrop of a naturally black bush with a message underneath that said, ‘Until next time’. I looked more closely and it seemed the parrot and the lizard were both smiling. I know I was.