My Friend's Wife II

My plainclothes team and I had spent the entire evening running around the south side locking up bad guys and trying to keep the peace in areas where that wasn't foremost on the communities mind. Afterwards, we were parched and we decided it was time for a beer. We headed for a local watering hole close to where most of us lived, and it just so happened, that the wife of one of the team worked there as a bartender. However, that particular team member, Don, was on furlough (vacation) and he was downstate tending his property where he deer hunted in the fall. I parked my bike, a Harley Road King, right in front on Archer Ave, just west of the northern edge of Midway airport. The bar was crowded, mostly twenty something's, we took over a couple tables in the back. I saw that the guys had already accosted a waitress and had drinks. Always looking for a reason to talk to Joan, I approached the bar. She looked great, tall, muscular, her brown hair held up by pins. She wore a black t-shirt, torn in the front to allow her cleavage to spill out. She had on short shorts, also black, with just a hint of her ass peeking out and her long, long legs ending in black high-tops and white socks. At twenty-eight, she was probably the oldest woman there, but she out classed all of the Acıbadem escort bayan other women, staff or patrons. When she caught me approaching, she popped the top on a Summer Shandy and slid the bottle my way. I tipped the neck toward her and drained it in a swallow. She laughed and produced another. I said thank you and told her I'd rode and didn't want anything else but water. She nodded and looked back at the table of guys. "Hey," she said. "I get off in fifteen minutes." "Yeah," I said. "I have to go let my parent's dog out, they're out of town." "Really?" "Really, really," she said pulling a tall glass of water on top of ice and a wedge of lemon. "It creeps me out to go there alone, thought maybe you'd go with me." "Won't the boys talk?" "Not if you leave now." She smiled and handed me the water. "I'll park at the all night grocery store off of Cicero and Archer, pick me up there in thirty minutes." "I thought you got off in fifteen?" "Hey, a girl's gotta be careful." It was probably more in the order of fifty minutes before her convertible Chrysler something pulled up and parked. She'd changed and had put her hair in a ponytail. She had on a white t-shirt, obviously no bra, and blue jean Daisy Dukes. I hated giving Escort Kaynarca a girl a ride in shorts, too many ways to scar them, but what the hell. She swung onto the bike and grabbed me around the chest. "Let's go," she purred into my ear. I started the bike and immediately felt her grip tighten. Her nose rested against the base of my neck. I thought I could feel her lips on my shoulder. "I love the smell of a man," she said. She rubbed her tits against my back. I handed her a pair of goggles, then dropped mine into place, a smile tightening my face almost as much as my swelling dick in my jeans. I shifted into gear and took off. She clutched me even tighter and purred. As we drove, her hand drifted to my nipple. She tweaked it and laughed. Then her hands dropped to my thighs and she started kneading them, straying to the inner portion. "Feels so nice," she said. "So, hard, and muscular, must be from all that running you do." It didn't take long to come to where her mom and dad lived. It was an area that was slowly changing from older, white, second generation immigrants to newer immigrants, mostly Hispanic and some Arabic. There had been a steady increase in the burglaries in the area as well. As I took the last corner on the Aydınlı escort block, she grabbed my stiffening cock through my jeans. "I want to play with this tonight," she said giving it a squeeze. "Who am I to say no," I said pulling to the curb. "Behave until we get into the backyard," she said hopping off. I dropped the kick stand down and switched the bike off. She was already skipping up the stairs to the front porch. She produced a key and let herself in. I heard a dog barking inside. It sounded like a small one. She stuck her head out of the door and waved me through the gangway. I was about to ask if I could come in and use the bathroom when she shut the door and I heard the deadbolt turn. The next door house was only four foot apart from her mom and dad's home, typical Chicago lot, thirty by one-hundred-twentyish. I met her at the tall wooden gate to the backyard. She let me into the yard. It was small, enclosed on the sides by the fence and a detached garage in the back. The dog, about the size of a football and shaped like one, sniffed at the garage and raised a leg, peeing. When it was done it sauntered back to the door and sat. She let it in. "Ah," I said. "Do you think I could use the bathroom?" She smiled. "That beer and water getting to you?" "That and the hour wait." Her smile grew. "Just pee back here." "Really?" "Really, really," she said. "Don does it in front of me all the time, I hardly notice anymore." Since it was getting hard not to think about I tried to figure which corner of the backyard was the darkest. I strode over, fumbling with my pants.