Chapter 8
After parking the twins' van safely in the garage and closing the doors, locking them, Gloria James found, and not at all to her surprise, that Bosie wasn't in any kind of hurry.
She told him to wait a minute. Again, he looked puzzled, even mystified, but then he grinned when he saw her satisfied smile. Bosie was no stranger to women in semi or completely seductive moods-Standing with his hands in his pockets and brimming with contentment over his success in switching the vans so effortlessly, like stealing a kiss from an elephant's backside, he wondered what was up next. As he watched Gloria take off the gardener's raincoat and hat and saw how deliciously she was dressed; when he saw her wink at him, then take a shopping bag to the rear of the garage, he felt his prick throbbing.
She was a strange woman.
Climbing up the rear steps to the attic- really not an attic but the roof sloped and the overhead beams were bare-Gloria opened the door. The place was wonderfully cozy and smelled good from the cedar wood ceiling and sides. There were two small rooms, a tiny toilet cubicle and a small kitchenette. And everything worked. There was also a telephone.
She drew the curtains, although the trees growing so close to the garage allowed in as little light as they allowed to shine out at night.
She lighted one of the candles. Putting one of the bottles of wine in the small refrigerator on top of which was the two-burner electric stove, she looked around. She had to smile. This was really a romantic love nest. As the wind blew softly, the branches of the tall, old trees brushed against the roof. The silence otherwise, was profound.
Opening the door, she called down: "Bosie, find your way to the back, okay. But be careful. Don't trip."
He laughed, and Gloria liked his laugh. It was a hearty, Polish-type laugh.
"I could find you in the middle of a forest in the black of the night," he said.
She stood back as he entered.
"How?"
"By how good you smell," came his answer.
Sitting down in one of the two easy chairs that faced a small fireplace, he stretched his long legs. Gloria sat opposite him.
"Christ, what a hideaway this is!" he marveled.
"It's my secret, Bosie," Gloria said as she opened the wine and poured the two goblets full. The glass gleamed in the flickering candlelight.
"It's really okay!" he said with more enthusiasm than Gloria had ever noticed in him. "Mind if I kick off my shoes? I feel like relaxing."
She laughed, handing him his glass. "You can kick off anything you like." Hearing her voice saying these words came as something of a shock to Gloria James, but as she savored them, she felt her cunt twitching and her breasts beginning to ache. This was invariably a signal her desire was beginning to boil.
He laughed. He looked at her. "How much time do we have, Gloria?" He paused. "Then I have another question."
She stretched luxuriously, her ripe breasts pressing provocatively against her cashmere sweater. She crossed her legs at the knee, her skirt climbing up high to expose her pale pink nylons and just a hint of her silky white flesh at the top of her sheer stockings. She felt a strong shiver ripple through her body when his eyes fell to caress her long, slender legs that looked so nude in the candlelight.
"What is it?"
"Oh," he said, then very slowly, "I was wondering… how much time you… we have together, and what the hell you see in me?"
"We have lots of time," she yawned, and then uncrossed her legs, crossing them back, this time making sure he had an ample look at her naked thighs above the nylon tops, a sneak at the garter belt and maybe a good peep at the crotch of her panties that she now knew was beginning to soak up with her flowing cunt juices. She felt all tingly and again her breasts and nipples began to throb much like a pulse beats.
"… so, what do you see in me?" he repeated. She saw he was getting nervous, more so as the second ticked by, and also beginning to sweat. Gloria loved the odor, the stink of big men's sweat. Some of her wildest fantasies including licking a big hairy man from head to toe all covered with a layer stale salty sweat over which was a fresh layer of wet perspiration.
One of her most exciting masturbational fantasies concerned a story she'd read as a girl about a men's locker room. This was in a fancy athletic club frequented by fat men who came every day to exercise and lose weight.
These men all wore heavy sweat suits that resembled kids' pajamas, that is, even their feet were enclosed. The suits buttoned up at the neck and even had a hood that tied around the chin.
The attendant in the locker room, just outside of it, was an Irish woman with a young daughter. Often she would come to wait for her mother, or for one or another everyday reasons.
One afternoon there was a whole pile of laundry, including perhaps a dozen of these sweat suits in a pile in the room her mother occupied as an office. The girl's mother was off on an errand. The place was empty. The girl had over an hour to wait.
Inside the office, the door closed, the smell of dried up sweat and the airlessness of the small room soon got to the young girl. She felt dizzy and very thirsty. She knew her mother drank.
Searching the desk, she found the bottle of vodka she knew her mother sipped from most of the day. She took a sip. Actually, she liked vodka. She was no stranger to it, nor it to her. Quickly, she felt much better.
Locking the door after hanging up the "be back in one hour" sign on the small hook, the teenager took off all her clothes except her white bobby socks. Taking the bottle, she lay down on the pile of sweaty gym suits. Again, the odor got to her and she began to day dream and at the same time, play with her little pussy.
Pretty soon she was getting really horny, spearing in her fingers, she happened to roll over on her belly. With her other hand she reached down behind and started to play with her buttocks, rubbing them, spreading them apart, trailing her finger between her ass crack and finally, as her other fingers scratched her clitoris, her index finger began to toy with her anus.
At the same time her face was buried into the pile of sweaty gym suits. Some of them were still soaking wet with hot sweat. As she inhaled, she again felt dizzy and then inhaling deeper, as one does, taking really deep breaths, exhaling and taking in more an more, she felt a powerful orgasm approaching.
Extremely hot, she began to lick the sweaty gym suits. Not getting all she needed, she raised up. She found one pair she liked the stink of. Opening it, she spread out the crotch. It was soaking wet. She buried her face in the crotch, then when the wetness became irresistible, she began to lick the crotch with her tongue, licking, licking and finally sucking the wet,material into her mouth.
Finally, she had her orgasm, her head swimming, her body shivering…
It was this story that so fascinated Gloria James. She couldn't remember the number of times since girlhood that she'd recalled every single detail as she masturbated her cunt into a wild succession of violent orgasms.
Gloria looked at Bosie's hands. They were working man's hands. "You really want to know what I see in you?" she smiled. The smell of his sweat was becoming stronger.
"Sure. Hell, I ain't like the other guys, the fine types that I figure you runs round with."
"You excite me in a different way," she said.
This time she uncrossed her legs. She raised one knee high up, hugging it with both hands. Now there was no doubt he could see her crotch, see the tight panties, see the curly black hair escaping from the panty crotch, see the tops of her silky white thighs, the tops of her pale pink nylons, even the lower slopes of her lovely bottom cheeks.
"Oh, God," he moaned. "You're so beautiful, Gloria."
"Bring your glass. Come here. Sit at my feet."