"Yeah," I said. "The one down the way from the food court."
Kristen closed her eyes. "They have these peanuts that are fresh roasted. You can smell them roasting a hundred yards away from the store. Anyway, the nuts are huge! I mean… not as huge as yours." Kristen giggled. "Anyway, they dip some of them in dark chocolate, making them into clusters. You can get a plastic container of them for a couple of dollars. Anyway, you put the container into the freezer, and when you feel like doing something special, you pull out a cluster of about four or five peanuts…" Kristen faded off, making yummy sounds.
I grinned, "You make it sound heavenly, Kris."
My little blonde Goddess giggled, crinkling her nose as she did so.
"So, do you like pizza?" I asked.
Kristen swooned again. "You mean like they make in the city? With the thick crust?"
"Yeah," I said. "I like that with pepperoni and sometimes some sausage also."
"Hmmm," Kristen nodded, "I could go for some breakfast sausage…" She lowered her head, and impaled her mouth on my rod, her lips almost reaching my aching balls.
I closed my eyes. The conversation had gone well. As always, I loved the feeling of Kristen deep throating me. She didn’t do it all that often, and nobody had ever managed to swallow me to the depths that Kristen could take. It usually was a bit messy, due to all the saliva and mucous from her throat, but the sensations were always exquisite. And, of course, Kristen always made sure that my cock was squeaky clean afterward, giving it her utmost attention.
I thought back to the last time Patty tried practicing deep throat with me. She was still having problem with her gag reflex. In fact, her session came to an unexpected halt when she had to make a mad dash for the toilet, holding her mouth. (I hoped that nobody had seen her naked dash into and back out of the toilet; nothing was ever said to me about it, though.) I didn’t think that Patty would be practicing with me any time soon, especially after Monday night, when my penis would return to its old, original, and unadulterated flavor for her.
The deep throat action stopped, and Kristen returned to her favorite style, simple suckling and licking vigorously around the tip and underneath the head.
I tried to reach Kristen’s crotch to return the favor, but her body was positioned away from me. I had to be content with just caressing her lovely tresses, wondering if Kristen loved me playing with her hair and scalp as much as I enjoyed doing it.
We continued in the same vein for about a half hour, neither one of us achieving orgasm, or really trying to, either.
I had Kristen drive me to a flea market that was open on Sundays. She had never been to one before, and we simply walked hand in hand, looking at what people were selling or, perhaps, giving away.
I recognized more than a few of the sellers, having visited this place a few times every year. I saw a used flute, one of the few instruments that I didn’t play too well and I stopped at that table to check it out.
"Do you play?" Kristen asked me when she saw me check out the instrument.
"A bit," I admitted. "It took me a while to get the hang of the mouth piece, but finally figured out how to direct my breath at the cutting edge properly."
The person at the table said, "You’re Jim Crittenhouse, aren’t you?"
I didn’t recognize the person at all. "Yes, ma’am."
"And, oh, my. You’re Kristen Swift!"
"Yes," Kristen admitted. Her eyes sparkled, apparently used to being recognized.
"My daughter is Shirley Lakewood. She used to be in band."
I remembered Shirley. She wasn’t a great player, but she did try hard. "Hi, Mrs. Lakewood," I said. "I remember Shirley. Is this her instrument?"
"Yes," the lady said. "She’s given up band, and moved onto Chorus now."
"She has a lovely voice, Mrs. Lakewood. I imagine she’ll do well in the high school chorus."
"Thank you," Mrs. Lakewood beamed, proud of her daughter. "Are you interested in Shirley’s instrument? We bought it used for $200. I was thinking of asking a hundred. But I know you’ll get good use out of it. How about fifty dollars?"
A new flute would cost about $400, and this one looked in good condition. Even so, fifty dollars was out of my price range. "Sorry, Mrs. Lakewood. I was just admiring it."
"No problem. I really didn’t expect to sell it today. But could you maybe play something on it?"
I felt a little embarrassed. It had been about a half year since I had actually played a flute, and I wasn’t all that sure if I would get the fingering correct on the first try.
I picked up the flute gingerly, and looked at the mouthpiece. It seemed pretty clean. I put my fingers on the levers and flexed my fingers. One or two levers needed oil, but they still worked all right.
Luckily, the flute is pitched in "C" instrument, which meant that my innate sense of pitch wouldn’t work against me.
I decided to play something simple, and I entertained my lovely Goddess with the flute solo from "Colour My World." My fingers never lost their memory of how to play the flute, and soon after, I decided to play something by ear, and did the recorder solo from "Playground in my Mind," a hit from the previous year that made Kristen smile.
"You play very nice," Mrs. Lakewood said. "Shirley could never get a vibrato like you manage to get."
I shrugged thanked Mrs. Lakewood, and disassembled the flute, opening the case and putting it away properly.
When I turned around, I was surprised that I had a little crowd around me. I felt like I did when I was nine years old, being allowed to play the piano at the Wurlitzer store in the mall, and having people come into the store to listen to the little prodigy play, a technique that the sales people used to show how "just about anybody" could play their pianos.
Kristen saw my grimace at the attention that I had received, and took my hand as we bade Mrs. Lakewood good-bye.
"How many instruments can you play?" Kristen asked.
"That’s a trick question," I pointed out. "Knowing the fingering to a flute, for example, allows you to play the piccolo as well, although it’s a matter of degree, since the size difference makes it a bit different."
"You play trombone in the band at the school, right?"
"Yeah," I grinned.
"And you also play piano and trumpet. Do you play guitar?"
"Nope," I shook my head. "Never got the hang of any stringed instrument."
Kristen grinned, crinkling her nose. "Well, we found your one weakness, Super-Jim!"
"Second weakness," I said, smiling back. "My first and biggest weakness is a lovely blonde Goddess that goes by the name of Kristen."
That earned me a smooch on the cheek.
Later on, Kristen excused herself to use the bathroom, and I checked out a couple of other tables that didn’t seem interesting to Kristen. She came back a few minutes later, and we walked around, once again holding hands.
I heard a familiar squeal, and turned to find Merry at a nearby table looking at some sort of thing for tying pony tails. I looked around, and found my mother and step-father weren’t too far from Merry. They noticed us, and waved hi.
I decided that we should at least say "hello," and we walked to where Merry was busy pawing through a box of material.
"Hi Kristen, hi Jim," my mother said, smiling. There was no trace of anger in her voice, surprising me just a little.
"Hello, Mrs. Cummings," Kristen said.
"Hi, Mom!"
"Meredith… look who’s here!" my step-father said.
Merry looked up from her box of treasures and squealed once again when she saw Kristen. "Kris! I can’t believe you’re here!"
Kristen and I moved closer to Merry, and I picked her up a few inches, planting a kiss on top of her head. "Hiya, Shortcake!" I said.