Lunch Hour
By lipidluvr23@hotmail.com
(WARNING...this lunch gets a little, uh, "spicy"! And I'm giving you the ABRIDGED version!)
Chapter 1
Poor Rick Teasdale. Another lousy day at the tire center was underway, with the manager yelling at him not once but twice for different screw-ups that could have cost the company some serious coin.
"Teasdale, you put those brand-new Bridgestones in the sale pile with the recaps! And can't you tell the difference between radials and bias-plys? How long have you worked here? Jesus Christ!"
"Teasdale, get these goddamn jackstands off the floor. You want somebody to roll over them?"
Worst of all, though, was that drop-dead gorgeous, hopelessly stuck-up bitch who bawled him out for not having her new tires ready today. So he screwed up a couple orders, what was the big fucking deal? Why was it that the hottest foxes are the biggest bitches? Look at that woman—legs practically up to her tits and a mouth fit for a king. A king-size dick, that is.
Rick knew the boss was watching, so he mumbled an apology and told her he would get on her order right away. That meant the order would cut into his lunch hour. No noontime liquid refreshment at Tacky's Tavern today.
Yep, poor Rick Teasdale. Poor, ignorant Rick Teasdale. His problem was that he could never appreciate what he had, but lacked the imagination to get what he wanted—at least, what he thought he wanted.
The tire center was an appropriate place for Rick to end up. He didn't amount to squat in high school, either. Back then, his favorite pastimes were cutting class, getting ripped on peach schnapps, and working on his El Camino.
Oh, and picking on a scrawny, acne-scarred runt named Bud. He was a couple grades under Rick and could never seem to escape Rick's wrath. Wedgies and swirlies were the order of the day, and Bud bore them all, praying one day for revenge against his loutish tormenter. It would take nearly twenty years, but finally, that day arrived.
Chapter 2
How sweet. She had candles burning at the doorway. I opened the door and crept inside. The candles blew out as I shut the door.
It felt odd to step into the darkened apartment from the light of midday. I fumbled around a little until I saw light streaming from a crack in the bedroom doorway.
I approached the door and slowly opened it.
There she was. I smiled. She smiled back.
"Hello, Bud."
Jean was lying on her waterbed in the sheerest negligee I had ever seen. I would have loved to have been a fly on the lingerie store's wall when they fitted Jean with this one. The sheer tulle draped loosely off her abundant hips, and her chocolate-brown nipples (how appropriate, to use a Jean-style parenthetical aside), paired with those spectacular aureoles, which must have been at least four inches in diameter, pushed hungrily against the scanty material.
My eyes couldn't help darting to, let's say, more intimate areas. But they were covered by a vast, rippling overhang of abdomen flab. No matter. They would be revealed to me soon enough. I felt myself getting hard.
Jean followed my roaming eyes then instinctively gazed at my own nether regions.
"Bud, you naughty, naughty boy."
"And you goddess," I blurted out. "Thank God my hunch to enter that Precious Moments chat room paid off. And to think you deigned to remember me, too. After all these years."
"I never forgot you," Jean said. "True, we never spoke, but I always felt your presence in school. I longed for you so much, but I was involved with Rick at the time and didn't think he would approve. What a fool I was. I'm sorry I made you suffer for so long. What can I do to make it up to you?"
"You can drop that emotional baggage, for starters," I replied. "It'll crowd the bed, and there's only room for you and me."
She smiled. I smiled back.
There would be no need to chase this chubby. She was all mine.
Chapter 3
As I performed my little striptease, which Jean drank in with obvious delight, I couldn't help being nervous. I had waited so long and had envisioned this moment thousands of times. What if my expectations were too impossibly high? Would it have been better if my dream girl had remained exactly that?
I needn't have worried. As my lips touched Jean's, all my apprehensions melted away.
Our tongues danced and played as I delicately undid her negligee, freeing her ample bosoms. I squeezed and pinched her nipples, the undulation of the bed only aiding our passion. I finally broke away to ogle my super-size girl again. Was there any place on that quivering blancmange body of hers that wasn't absolutely perfect? For a brief moment, it seemed like time had come to standstill.
"Oh Bud, make me feel alive again," Jean cried. "Hubby Rick never knew how to treat a lady. Please, Bud, awaken my soul."
Emboldened by Jean's ardent words, I dove in with relish. I nipped and licked at the stretch marks that streaked across her hips and abdomen. My tongue probed the fat deposits lurking under her marbling skin. Jean squealed with pleasure.
"You go where no man has gone before," Jean purred. "Not even Rick. Especially not Rick."
"Rick's a fool," I blurted out, my nose and mouth too full of Jean's divinely-puckered navel to say much. Jean wasn't reciprocating with caresses of her own—in fact, she was barely moving at all—but she was proving very accommodating.
I put my head between her enormous breasts, which she instinctively gathered in her hands and pressed against my ears. I felt like I was making love to a souffle. A sexy souffle adrift on a life raft on the sea of love.
"Turn over," I said. "Let's see that lovely tuche of yours."
Jean complied. I had to assist her a little, what with gravity acting against her. I kneaded the Jello mold that was her enormous full-moon ass, showering it with kisses. Jean moaned with pleasure. I couldn't resist any longer. My cock throbbing, I parted her ass cheeks, about to give her what Rick had denied her for so long. Jean gasped.
"Oh, Bud, not yet, please," she said. "The chocolate syrup. Get it. It's on the nightstand."
Sure enough, there was a bottle of Hershey's beside the bed. Jean turned over and spread her magnificent alabaster piano legs.
"It's a little something to snack on while you're down there," Jean said. "I'd help you with it myself, but I have a hard time with the reach..."
(OK, folks, I think I'll stop it here!!! It goes on for a bit more—OK, a lot more—but this is supposed to be a family site, after all!! I swear I don't know this guy, I've never chatted with anyone like him online, and we sure didn't make whoopee!! I don't even remember anyone like him from high school! But I'd like to encourage this guy to send me some more fan fiction if he wants!!!! Just kidding!!! Not really!! JUST KIDDING!!!!!! Seriously!—Jean)