JUST AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL--Part 1 Of 6 free porn video

I dump my slut and meet my old-fashioned girl.


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I had just stepped from the shower, a thick towel wrapped around my waist, and was about to lather up to shave when Sheila, my live-in girlfriend, hugged tightly me from behind. Her lush naked body still reeked from our frantic sex earlier that morning and her still hard nipples pressed teasingly into my back feeling like two pebbles on the beach. “I have a nice surprise for you, Steven. Close your eyes and turn around.”
I wasn’t in much of a hurry this morning so I thought, “Why not? Maybe we’ll get it on again before we have to leave for work. I could bend her over the vanity and push my hard cock up her pussy or her ass.” I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and turned to face her. A few seconds later I regretted it as I screamed in agony.

Locked onto each of my nipples was a large alligator clip. How this could be so painful I couldn’t understand, but I was furious. “Get these fucking things off of me!”

“I can’t; there’s a pin here that stops them from being opened…see? They’re designed to pierce your nipples…you know, just like we discussed.” She had stepped forward as I looked down to see the brass pins between the two sets of handles. I tried to open them to no avail even though I’m athletic and have very strong hands.

“What the hell am I supposed to do…wear these fucking things for the rest of my life? Get the hell out of my way!” I pushed her back with such force that she fell on her ass and I sprinted through the hall to the basement door where I took the steps two at a time en route to my workbench. I found my heavy ball peen hammer and cold chisel in seconds, lowered my body so the ends of the handles strangling my left nipple rested securely on my table vise. A second later the chisel took the first of five blows from the hammer, bending the soft brass of the pin easily. Even then I was unable to open the damned clip so I opened the vise, pushed the handles between the jaws and turned the vise’s long steel handle. I knew the force generated by the screw gear of the vise and the lever action of the handle would generate much more force than my fingers and a few seconds later my poor throbbing nipple was free.

Unfortunately, blood poured steadily from the wounds. I allowed it to drip carelessly onto the floor as I repeated my steps with the other clip. Once free from their grasp I pulled several paper towels from the nearby holder and pressed them against my wounded flesh. They turned red quickly, so quickly that I had to replace them several times before I realized that the bleeding wasn’t going to stop. I pulled off almost half the roll of towels, wadded them up and pressed them against my chest. Then I took a close look at the weapons Sheila had used on me. Typical alligator clips had thin teeth roughly one-thirty-second of an inch long and about the same wide. The teeth on these were similar except at the tip where they were almost a quarter inch long by an eighth wide, forming a small sharp cylinder that still held a part of my flesh. I was lucky I had any nipples left.

All of the men in my family have had large nipples, even going back as many generations as any of my relatives could remember. I guess we were genetic freaks in that regard. Several kids I knew from elementary school thought they were girly and told me so, but learned quickly that a straight right to their noses was nothing to laugh about. By junior high the stupid comments had ended, due no doubt to my reputation as a brawler. I thought that their size was the reason why Sheila had suggested getting them pierced. She had mentioned it several times and my answer was always the same—NO FUCKING WAY!
Now it appeared that she had taken matters into her own stupid hands. I carefully dropped the two clips into a plastic sandwich bag, sealed it, and trudged back up the stairs. Sheila was still in the bathroom, but not for long.

“How many times did we talk about getting my nipples pierced?”

“I don’t know…a couple, maybe.”

“It was three times…exactly. And, did I ever give you an indication that I might be interested? Would ever be interested?”

“Well….”

“Don’t give me ‘well.’ You attended law school at Fordham just as I did, had mostly the same professors and same courses I had so I know you learned how to listen and speak with care and precision. Now, answer me—did I ever express any interest at all in having myself pierced?”

Sheila avoided eye contact, keeping her head down and turned away. I’d had enough. “We’re done, Sheila. I had some reservations about living together, as you know. Now my concerns have been proven true. I can’t trust you—not at all. Your judgment stinks. Get your shit together and get out. Don’t worry about going to work. I have a lunch date with Harrison at one and I’m sure he’ll fire your sorry ass when he hears about this.”

“You’d have me fired? Just because of this? A simple misunderstanding?”

“I won’t have to, Sheila. I won’t even ask. I know Harrison like he was my brother. We grew up together, neighbors and best buddies since we were four. He’ll ask about how were doing and I’ll tell him it’s over. Then he’ll ask why and I’ll explain. He’ll put the rest together on his own and you’ll be toast. And don’t give me that ‘simple misunderstanding’ crap. See these paper towels? I can’t get the bleeding to stop. I’m going to the ER. Leave your key and garage remote on the hall table. I’ll probably be back by 11:00. Make sure you’re gone by then.”

I walked away into my closet where I pulled a pair of boxers up my legs, followed by a pair of cargo shorts and a ratty old tee shirt that I didn’t care about. Getting dressed with but a single hand was more difficult than I thought. A pair of sandals, my wallet and keys, and I was on my way, but first I added a final comment to Sheila, “Anything of yours that’s still here when I return is going into the trash so I suggest you do a thorough job...and don’t even think of taking any of my things. What you did to me probably amounts to felony battery and possibly even sexual battery so don’t piss me off any more than you already have.” I was in my car less than a minute later.

I live in Centerport, a small town on the North Shore of Long Island, and the nearest hospital is in nearby Huntington, only about ten miles away. However, anyone familiar with Long Island knows those ten miles could take as long as an hour under the wrong conditions, like rush hour that begins every weekday around 6:00 a.m.—more than an hour ago. I drove carefully, one hand on the wheel and the other pressing the wad of paper towels against my chest. Parking in the ER lot I told the guard that I was injured and needed immediate care. Apparently the triage nurse agreed when she saw the bloody paper towels I still clutched to my chest. By the time I had arrived my arm and shirt were covered in my own blood.

A plastic surgeon was called in to see me after I’d been on a gurney about twenty minutes, my chest shaved and an IV plugged into my arm. He examined my damaged tissues. “What the hell did this to you,” he asked. Clearly, bedside manner wasn’t his highest priority.

“My ex-girlfriend and these; please don’t handle them. I’m an attorney and I may need them for some future criminal or civil action.”

He looked at me curiously then took the sealed bag from my fingers. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like these before. Good thing you have big nipples; had this occurred to someone more normally constructed, the entire nipple would have been destroyed. You’re going to need stitches to hold the tissues together and stop the bleeding.” Three tiny sutures on each side of each nipple did the job. I’d need an appointment with my personal physician to remove the stitches in another week to ten days. He also gave me a prescription for the pain and suggested that I wear loose and soft shirts for the next week.

I returned to my home just a bit after eleven, somewhat later than anticipated. Sheila’s house key and garage remote were on the hall table along with a one-word note—“Sorry.” I could see the stains of several tears on the paper. I crumbled it into a tiny ball and tossed it into the kitchen bin then I called my secretary, Joyce. Joyce had been with me since I’d hung out my shingle six years ago. I still laughed when I thought about her interview. Her parents had grown up in the Bronx where some words had mighty strange pronunciations. I had first learned of this from some of my father’s friends. “Oil” was pronounced “erl” and “burner,” “boiner.” Somehow the term “oil burner” was reversed into “erl boiner.” Joyce had me in stitches when she told me it would be a pleasure to work for someone who could actually pronounce her name correctly. Apparently, everyone in her family called her, “Jerse.” Every now and then when I was in a silly mood I did the same. Joyce usually got her revenge by totally ignoring me or taking a really long lunch.

“Mr. Bell called to confirm lunch at one. Ben’s, right?”

“Right; I’m obviously running late, but I’ll be in right after lunch. I have a three o’clock with William Clark about his son’s most recent DUI. There’s a file on my desk. Run through it quickly and copy the parts I’ll need to share with him. Oh…I’ll be in casual clothes for the next week. I’ll explain when I see you. Anything come up this morning?”
 
“You had three people come in seeking representation—one burglary, one assault with a deadly weapon, and another DUI. He was the only one who appeared in person. The others were wives on behalf of their husbands. I’ve already been in touch with the Nassau County Police about getting the paperwork. I should have it by the time you come in.” We talked about a few minor details and I rung off. Dropping my clothes onto the closet floor I walked into the bathroom, grabbed a washcloth and proceeded to wash my arm and chest. My nipples were covered with waterproof bandages and I’d been given several replacements so I’d be able to shower. When I pulled a towel from the rack I noticed the aroma of Sheila’s cologne. Shaking my head in disgust I threw it into the hamper and selected another.

I’d miss Sheila. She was a rising associate for the firm of Bell Jacobs, one of Nassau County’s biggest general-service law firms. My friend Harrison Bell was the senior partner in the firm his father started more than forty years ago with his partner Herman Jacobs. Now his dad was retired and Jacobs had passed away last year leaving Harrison in charge. He’d introduced Sheila to me at a function sponsored by his firm.

I was interested immediately--she exuded sexuality. Tall and slender, but with large full breasts and womanly hips, Sheila had long light brown hair and the biggest bright blue eyes I’d ever seen. She was wearing a navy blue dress that hugged her body like a second skin, showing more than a bit of her ample cleavage. Her deep throaty voice said “I’m hot for you” with every syllable. Even better, I learned just how much she loved sex on our first date. We had a lot in common—Fordham Law grads, I had a cock and she loved to suck and swallow. Like I said—we had a lot in common. Now she’d gone and destroyed it all with her stubborn stupidity.

My ratty tee shirt went into the kitchen trash bin, my shorts with a few blood stains into the hamper for my house cleaner’s attention. I dressed in a violet golf shirt by Greg Norman and tan linen slacks. Matching socks and cordovan tasseled loafers completed my outfit. Even the light shirt’s weight caused a sharp pain in my chest. I wondered then if I’d be able to fall asleep tonight.

Leaving the house at 11:40 gave me enough time to run a quick errand in Mineola, the Nassau County seat. My office was there, only a few blocks from the county court building, and I subscribed annually to the Mineola Library, using their online subscriptions to numerous news services for research purposes. Unfortunately, free library services were only provided for residents so I had to pay the $25 fee every year.

I parked in the large lot and walked in, looking for the main desk as I did every year. This was the only time I physically entered the facility even though I used their on-line services almost daily. I usually expect to find the desk in front, but for some reason the circulation desk in this library is way over to the right. When I found it I realized that the search was worth the effort.

Standing in front of me was a beguiling woman, almost totally different from what I usually found attractive and sexy. She appeared to be tall, but with a small frame similar to what one would expect on an Asian woman. She had smallish breasts, perhaps B-cups at most, and narrow hips, but legs that seemed to never end. Her hair was short and dark brown, matching the color of her eyes. Her face covered with tiny freckles. She wasn’t beautiful, but she was cute in a pixie-like kind of way. Her dark blue suit with light blue piping only made her even more appealing. She was the exact opposite of the kind of woman I usually dated. Maybe that’s why I was just over my fourth girlfriend in less than two years.

She turned to face me and smiled. That’s when I noticed her name tag—Rosalie—with the question—How may I help you?—below. I smiled back before speaking. “Rosalie…that’s a nice name. It suits you.”

“Ummm…I think it’s kind of old fashioned, but I suppose that’s okay because I’m just an old fashioned kind of girl. I saw you were staring. That’s not very polite.”

“I’m sorry, but I noticed you have the most incredible posture. I find it very appealing. Are you by any chance the kind of old fashioned girl who’d be willing to be seen in public with a lawyer?”

She stood silently for a few minutes, apparently thinking. Then her head tilted slightly to the right and a smile graced her face. “Did you just ask me for a date? I don’t even know you.”

“No problem,” I replied as I opened my wallet and removed my driver’s license and a business card. I passed the license across the desk into her fine-boned hand. “I’m Steven Michael Sloan. You can see that I live in Centerport. I’m an attorney. My office is just down the street about a block from the courthouse. I grew up in Centerport and went to the Harborfields Public Schools. My dad was an electrical contractor until he retired two years ago. My mom was a housewife. I did well in school and graduated as Salutatorian.”

“Not Valedictorian? I’m shocked,” she said with an impish grin.

“You wouldn’t be if you had ever met my good friend, Harrison Bell. He went to Harvard, just like his father. I went to Princeton, but only because they gave me a half scholarship. I went to Fordham Law and worked for the Manhattan DA’s office for three years before opening my own office here in Nassau County. I’m 33, single—never been married—and I was raised Catholic although I must admit I’m not very religious now.
Oh…I’m six feet three inches tall and weigh 190 pounds.”

Rosalie was practically laughing when she commented, “I’m surprised you weren’t All-American quarterback, too.”

I couldn’t suppress a slight grin as I replied, “Not quite that good, but I was second string All-County in basketball my senior year at Harborfields and I did play varsity baseball for two years, too. I played basketball at Princeton all four years as a guard, but unfortunately I never made All-Ivy, let alone All-American. Anything else you’d like to know?”

She returned my ID, but kept the business card. “You do realize that I can check on you fairly easily.”

“Go ahead. I have nothing to hide.”

“Suppose I do agree. What would you have in mind?”

“How about dinner--a moderately priced place so you wouldn’t feel that you owed me anything? Ever eat at Butera’s in Massapequa? It’s Italian, but not red sauce.”

“Can’t say that I have, but I have heard of it. Okay, I’ll take a chance…Friday I have to work until seven. You can pick me up here. I’ll meet you at the front door and don’t get any ideas.”

“I know…old-fashioned girl.”

“You got it.” She returned to her work as I walked out. I was half-way down the steps when I turned around.
Rosalie laughed when she saw me. “Couldn’t stay away, eh?”

“You really have me flustered. I came in to renew my library card. I use your online services quite often for my work.” I pulled the $25 for the fee from my wallet along with my card while Rosalie worked the computer. She handed the card and a receipt back to me and I held her hand just a bit longer than necessary. She laughed again as she extricated her fingers from my grip. “See you Friday.” This time I did leave. I had just enough time to drive to Ben’s. The drive up Old Country Road was easy; parking at Ben’s was always a bear. The parking lot there was tiny and the restaurant extremely popular.


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Ben’s is a kosher deli, probably known best for its over-stuffed hot pastrami and corned beef sandwiches, although I really enjoy their complimentary coleslaw, too. Harrison was already there, seated in a booth. I waved and walked past the receptionist.

“Taking the day off,” Harrison asked when he saw my casual attire. A navy suit or gray pinstripes was more typical for me.

“No, I had to go to the ER this morning—some bad wounds on my chest. Doctor suggested loose light shirts for the next week. Luckily, I don’t have to be in court until next Thursday.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is that why Sheila didn’t come in this morning?”

“Yes, but not the way you’re thinking. We’re done. She’s the reason why I had to go to the hospital.” I spent a few minutes explaining, pausing only to order pastrami on rye and a Dr. Brown’s cream soda. Harrison listened intently then checked the plastic bag from my pocket just as carefully.

“What the fuck! These things would have obliterated my nipples. She punched a hole right through with these things?”

“Exactly; I couldn’t get the bleeding to stop even with a huge wad of paper towels pressed against my chest.”

Harrison sat silently for several minutes while I helped myself to a goodly portion of coleslaw. I’d seen him do this any number of times. The wheels were turning; he was deep in thought. “She’s done with me, too. What terrible judgment. How could I ever trust her with a client knowing about this?”

“I told her I wouldn’t ask you to fire her and I’m not.”

“Duly noted, but she’s out. I will give her a decent reference, but that’s all.” Our sandwiches were delivered then and I decided to tell him about my new old-fashioned girl. Harrison just laughed. “You don’t waste any time, do you? How’d you meet this charmer?”

“She’s a librarian. You know I use the Nassau County online services at work. I tell you, Harrison, she’s like no other woman I’ve ever dated. She’s tall, but with a tiny frame. I can already see she has a good sense of humor, but I doubt I’ll get her into bed for quite a while. She emphasized that she’s an old-fashioned girl.”
Harrison laughed as we finished eating. It was my turn to pay so I left a tip in cash and paid the bill with my company credit card.

“Going to work now,” Harrison asked as we rose from the booth.

“Not quite yet; I’ve been thinking of hiring an associate. I’m going over to the DA’s office to see Jeff Barnes.”

“Good choice; think he’ll accept?”

“I hope so. I understand that he’s married with a kid on the way. I can afford to pay him a lot more than the county can.” He wished me good luck as we parted company. I drove across the street, parking in the district attorney’s lot as I always did.

I found Jeff at his desk. “Got a minute? Is there someplace we can speak privately?”

“Sure, Steve…do we have anything going on now?”

“No, this is a kind of unofficial visit.” He led me to an interview room where we sat on opposite sides of a table that was bolted to the floor. I’d been in here before with clients. “I won’t beat around the bush, Jeff. I need some help. I have more clients than I can service effectively. How’d you like to come to work with me? I know you’re making about sixty now. I’ll guarantee seventy-five plus five percent of your billings at three hundred an hour. I’ll give you full family medical and dental starting your first day and four weeks vacation plus holidays—basically the same package you have here. I understand that your wife’s expecting. Congratulations. So?”

“So…it sounds good, but I’d like to talk it over with my wife. When do you want an answer?”

“Tuesday is okay, but sooner would be better. I have an office for you, but only some cheap furniture so I’ll give you something to decorate to your tastes. Here’s my card. Give me a call if you have any questions.” I rose, we shook hands, and I was out the door.

I had planned to tell Joyce about Jeff, but as usual she was three steps ahead of me. “The obvious choice in my opinion; I have several catalogs here—office furniture—desks, chairs, what they call conversation settings.”

“What?”

“Well…you and I would call them tables and chairs.” I shook my head in dismay as I walked into the office. Joyce followed me and closed the door behind her. “Okay, why the sports clothes? In all the time I’ve worked for you there’s always been a suit. You’ve never even worn a sports jacket, so what gives?”

“I was injured this morning when Sheila decided that my nipples needed to be pierced. I had to use a hammer, cold chisel, and a vise to get the clamps off and then I couldn’t get the bleeding to stop. I spent two hours in the ER at Huntington Hospital. Doctor there suggested lightweight loose shirts.”

“So, what’s happening with Sheila?” My look in response would have cut through steel. “Oh! Done. Over…and out the door.” I merely nodded then we got down to business to prepare for my three o’clock with William Clark. His son was totally out of control. At eighteen he was too young to drink legally yet this was his third DUI arrest in less than six months. Even worse, he had been driving with a suspended license. My previous conferences with Mr. Clark had not proven productive. He had been extremely defensive of his son, pooh-poohing his behavior as “normal kid stuff.” If that happened today he’d be out the door in a heartbeat.

He was, not surprisingly, twenty minutes late. I didn’t mind--not when I was charging him $500 an hour--but when he started to defend his son’s behavior I walked immediately to the door. “Thanks for stopping by. Find another attorney.”

He appeared to be shocked at my words. “Aren’t you supposed to defend my son?”

“Defend him in court? Yes. Defend his actions? No way. And you’d better wake up and see that Michael has a big problem before he takes your car and kills someone. He’ll wind up in prison where he’ll be raped on a regular basis and you’ll wind up in court being sued for criminal negligence.”

“Why?”

“Why? You’ve got to be kidding. This kid should have been in treatment after the first time. Now he’s shown total disregard for the law. He’s going down. The best you can hope for is a state-sponsored rehab.”

“What’s the worst?”

“Prison…probably minimum security, but still prison. I’ll see what I can do, but he needs to be here to speak with me.”

“He’s just a kid.”

“No, Mr. Clark…he’s eighteen—an adult in the eyes of the law. I’ll speak to the ADA assigned in the next few days. I’ll be in court next Thursday and Friday so it will be either early next week or the following. Make sure Michael comes with you and—for his sake and yours—make sure he doesn’t drive. This is going to cost you another $10,000 to start. I’ll take half now and half before we go to court.” He wrote a check and I gave him a receipt. I was wondering how such a stupid oblivious man could be so successful in business.

The rest of the week was a blur, although I did hear from Jeff Barnes that he would resign as soon as he had my offer in writing. Joyce ran it over to his for signature less than an hour later and to notarize both copies. I left work an hour early Friday afternoon to take my BMW 6-series convertible to the car wash for my date tonight. I was dressed casually in a deep blue silk golf shirt and navy slacks as I approached the library entrance just a few minutes before seven. Rosalie appeared at five after carrying a garment bag that I took from her. She was dressed in a light pink top with a scoop neck and short sleeves over a pair of tight black Capri’s and matching sandals. I took the garment bag in my left hand and her left hand in my right. She showed me the way to her car, a Toyota Corolla that appeared to be at least a few years old. She placed the bag in her trunk and we walked to my Beemer nearby.

I opened and held the door for her then drove east on Old Country Road to the Meadowbrook Parkway south all the way to Montauk Highway eastbound into Massapequa. Butera’s is always crowded, and especially on Friday and Saturday when a wait of thirty minutes or more was the norm, but not for me. I opened the door and led Rosalie to the reception desk. I was pleased to see how crowded the restaurant was. “Hi, Marie,” I said in greeting as I held Rosalie’s hand.

“Hi, Mr. Sloan--your usual table’s ready. I’ll bring menus in a minute.”

I led Rosalie through the tables to the one along the wall. I was holding her chair when I heard a customer complain, “I’ve been waiting for half an hour. How come that guy can just waltz in and get a table?”

“When you own the restaurant, you’ll get a table right away, too.”

Rosalie couldn’t help but overhear. “You own this place?”

“Only half; I had two really close friends growing up—Harrison Bell and Nick Butera. I think Nick was actually closer until tenth grade when he left our high school to attend trade school. All he ever wanted to do was to become a chef. I remember him cooking up all kinds of stuff as far back as fourth grade. He went to Culinary Institute of America then worked in several restaurants upstate while I attended college and law school. I had been on my own three years, making good money, when Nick told me he had an idea for a restaurant. All he needed was fifty grand. I wrote a check and we became partners. Of course, it helped that he married my little sister. I’ve tried recently to step away, but she won’t hear anything about it. What I’ve done is open college funds for their two kids with my share. You’ll probably meet at least one of them before we leave.”

Marie came by with menus and I made a few suggestions. Rosalie opted for the marinated chicken breasts on focaccia bread. I decided on rigatoni with sausage and mushrooms. Rosalie had her first taste of Nick’s hand-made focaccia when the bread basket arrived. We each had a piece which created a problem. The only things left in the basket were garlic knots. Rosalie and I looked at each other until she began to giggle. Soon I joined her and a minute later we were laughing heartily. “Tell you what,” I said as I caught my breath. “I’ll have one if you’ll join me.”

She looked her cutest as she replied, “Deal…if only for self defense.” I held the basket up for her and she selected a succulent roll dripping with garlic and oil. I took one of the remaining. Holding it forward I offered a toast which Rosalie accepted with a chuckle. Then we dug in and I could see that Rosalie approved. “I checked up on you…Google. You’re quite well known and you’ve handled some really big cases. Does it bother you to deal with criminals every day?”

I thought for a moment even though I’d been asked that question before, most recently by a law class at Fordham. “Our system of law requires a rigorous defense. I’m always expected to do my best. Mostly, I’m like a referee in a basketball game, making sure that the other side follows the rules. The media describe this as getting the client off on a technicality, but in a football game you can’t run out of bounds to score a touchdown and you can’t have twelve men on the field. Well, you can if you don’t get caught. The police are just ordinary people. They make mistakes and take shortcuts. The problem is that many of those shortcuts are illegal, even more illegal than the so-called criminals they’re prosecuting. Even criminals have a right to be protected by the law.”

“So, you always try to get your clients off?”

“No. That’s not always possible, nor is it even advisable. I have a client now. He’s eighteen and he’s just had his third DUI arrest in less than six months. Of course, that also means that he’s gotten away with it God knows how many times. I told his father that he needed rehab after the first time, but he thought it was just normal kid stuff.”

“That’s terrible. He could have killed someone.”

“Exactly! I’ll make no attempt at getting him off. Rather, I’ve been working with the ADA handling the case to set up a mandatory rehab. It will be in a prison setting, but in a separate section away from the other prisoners.”

“I guess there’s no shortage of clients.”

“No, unfortunately; there seem to be a lot of stupid people who do a lot of stupid things. In fact, I just hired one of the DA’s best people as my associate. He’ll help me in two ways—he’s a great attorney and he’s black. I’m sure you know that young black men commit a lot of crimes.” I looked up then to see our order on the way, delivered by none other than my sister.

I stood as Andrea placed the plates on the table. After delivering a hug and kiss I introduced her to Rosalie. Andrea had to hustle back to the kitchen so she shook Rosalie’s hand, kissed me again, and walked hurriedly back to work. My eyes were on Rosalie’s when she realized she was facing a mountain of food. “Dear God, how am I supposed to eat all of this?”

“You’re not. We’ll get two take-away boxes—one for the chicken and bread and one for the salad--and you’ll have either lunch or dinner tomorrow.” We made small talk while we ate and I gave Rosalie a small sample of my rigatoni. She smiled in thanks and appreciation. Too soon we were done and I was leading her back to my car.

“What now? I know of a club nearby that has a nice trio that plays music you can actually dance to.” We found a table near the back and away from the hubbub of the dance floor. “I’ll have one drink. Why don’t you tell me about yourself then we can dance.”

“Okay…I’m Rosalie Cupani, age 29, single and never married. I grew up in Medford out in Suffolk County and attended the Patchogue-Medford schools. I went to Hofstra where I majored in Elementary Education, but I hated it. Well, I loved the kids, but hated the parents and their interference so I changed to Library Science and got my first job in Mineola. I’ve managed to work my way up the ladder, especially after getting my Masters. Now I’m second in command there. It’s good. I have time to read and I always get the new books before they go into circulation. Of course, I have an Italian mother who thinks I should have been married by the time I was twenty-two and pregnant within the year.”

“I can relate. I get heat from my mother, too. I’m sure that Andrea will phone her tomorrow morning to tell her all about you. She didn’t like Sheila, my last girlfriend—didn’t trust her. She has good instincts. She likes you; I can tell.” We ordered a round of drinks—white wine for her, gin and tonic for me. Then I led Rosalie to the dance floor. It was a slow tune from the forties. Most of the music here was from the big band era. We danced in the traditional “old fashioned” manner, but by the third dance her head was on my chest and the space between us had disappeared. We stayed until midnight when she said she had to get to bed.

No, I was not invited. I did invite her to go fishing on Sunday, but was invited instead to join her family for their traditional Memorial Day cook-out. She did agree to join me for fishing on Memorial Day. Soon we were back at the library. I parked next to her car and got out to open her door, but she beat me to it. We stood together between the cars and I leaned down for a kiss. She moved up to meet my mouth, her lips sweet and soft and plump. My tongue explored and met hers. Jolts of electricity ran through my body. I opened my eyes to see she had the same reaction. Our kiss lasted for more than a minute. She broke it then gave me a quick peck. “Don’t forget….”

“I know…you’re an old-fashioned girl. Thanks for taking the chance with me. I had a great time. Noon Sunday? Should I bring anything? I make some great beans with bacon and brown sugar or I could whip together some salsa.”

Rosalie smiled and laughed. “Just bring yourself. You have no idea of the favor you’re doing for me. I’ve been berated every year for the last five for going solo. At least you’ll prove I can get a date.”

“Um…golf shirt and shorts okay?”

“Sure, you’ll probably be overdressed.”

“Maybe I should bring an overnight bag?”

“Keep on dreaming.” She was laughing, but a second later she was in my arms for a final kiss. “I really have to go. Some of us have to work tomorrow.”

“Yeah…me, too; I have to be at the jail by eleven. Bye.” She stepped into her car and drove away. All I got from the date were a few kisses and some close dances. Surprisingly, it was more than enough.


>>>>>>

I was in and out of the jail in less than half an hour. One of the other attorneys congratulated me on landing Jeff Barnes. I was back at my home in Centerport by 12:30. I usually grill some hot dogs on Saturday, but thought I’d probably have my fill at Rosalie’s family cook-out. I had peanut butter and jelly instead.

I had thought that I might miss Sheila, but I missed Rosalie instead. One date and she’d made quite an impression. I couldn’t wait to see her again. I had a hot date that night with Rosy Palm, the same source of relief I used last night while I imagined making love with Rosalie.

She had given me her address and phone number in case I got lost. My Beemer had built in GPS and it was as effective as most German-made instruments are. I parked next to Rosalie’s Corolla, set the alarm even though the top was down and rang her bell at twelve on the dot. She looked gorgeous in a plain white tee and navy short shorts. I could barely take my eyes off her beautiful long and shapely legs. She kissed me in greeting and took my hand as we walked to my car.

“This is some car, Steven. I hate to think how much it cost.”

“It was expensive, but it’s not mine. It belongs to the firm. Of course, I own the firm, but legally we’re two different entities. I have to use a car to get to and from court and the jail, sometimes even out to the Suffolk County jail in Riverhead. This way I get to deduct depreciation—roughly twenty thousand a year over five years and all of the gas and maintenance, although that’s all covered for the first four years or 50,000 miles. Sounds kind of legal, doesn’t it? It sure as hell is fun to drive. Want to give it a shot?”

“Me? No, thank you. I’d be terrified.” I laughed. Then she joined me. “Well, maybe later. Now I think I need to brief you on my family. My mom and dad will be there, of course. My brother, Michael, his wife, Natalie, and their three kids; my sister, Anita, her husband, Joe, and their two kids will all be easy to get along with. In fact I think everyone will be receptive…except probably Uncle Robert.”

“Let me guess—he hates lawyers. Is he a police officer?”

“Yeah, Suffolk County--highway patrol--the expressway; he’s one of those cops who like to take shortcuts so a lot of his tickets and arrests get thrown out and he always blames the lawyers.”

“That’s actually fairly typical of what I see, too. There aren’t too many people these days who take responsibility for their actions.” I was already on the Southern Parkway, cruising along at the speed limit—55—and being passed by almost everyone else on the road. That wasn’t unusual, but I knew that this stretch of the highway was a notorious speed trap that the police loved to set up, with holidays being the worst. Sure enough several cars were pulled over onto the shoulder just a few miles ahead.

Rosalie had told me we were going to Port Jefferson Station so I drove north on the Sagtikos Parkway, getting off at the Northern which merged into Veterans Highway to Route 347, a road that had started its existence as a bypass for the town of Smithtown. Now driving through Smithtown was often faster. The road was four lanes, but could just as easily be six and there were lights at virtually every intersection. There was traffic today, but we moved right along until Rosalie told me where to turn. The street was filled with cars, but I found a spot to park around the corner. After raising the roof I helped Rosalie up and locked the doors.

Rosalie held my hand and even pulled my arm around her. I swear—no woman had ever felt better than she did at that second. “I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

“That’s great. I’ll forget all of the names a minute later…well, most of them, anyway. I’ll remember your parents and…what’s your name, again?” She laughed and made a feeble attempt to elbow me as we walked through the gate.

“I had a great dinner last night, thanks to you. Now I think I’ll be able to handle all the fattening stuff today. You’ve never been to an Italian party like this, have you?”

“Sure, with Nick and his parents when I was a kid. I still remember the first time I was invited for Sunday dinner. Boy--was I surprised when his mom brought out a roast beef after I had eaten a ton of spaghetti and meatballs. Just don’t expect me to eat cannoli.”

“I can’t stand them either. They’re much too sweet for me.” She elbowed me again as she continued, “And no stupid jokes about how sweet I am. C’mon, I’ll start the introductions.” She did, too. I was introduced for what seemed to be fifteen minutes non-stop then she led me to a table where we started on the feast. There were all kinds of Italian foods and I had my eye on making a sausage parm hero, but first I looked back at Rosalie’s family. I had no trouble picking out her mother and father, but the others were just a blur. Fortunately, Rosalie had told me not to worry about it on the drive over.

I had my sandwich and a Coke. I’d learned at an early age not to drink too much in front of a girlfriend’s family. We had just taken a seat when I was accosted by Uncle Robert, the Suffolk County cop, who all but told me I wasn’t welcome. “Oh, no you don’t, Uncle Robert; Steven is my guest,” Rosalie practically shouted until I placed my hand on her arm.

“Exactly what is your problem, Bob? Most cops do a good job and when they do there are no technicalities that get prisoners released. It’s only when cops screw up that people like me really get  
involved. Now, I know that there are some real scumbag lawyers, but—you know what—there are some scumbag cops, too. You can say the same thing about just about every occupation. You can rant and rave if you want to, but I’m going to enjoy the afternoon with Rosalie unless she—not you—suggests that I leave.” Robert stomped off in a huff, but I did see Rosalie’s parents nod their approval.

An hour later I was playing horseshoes with Rosalie’s brother and kicking ass, beating her two uncles badly in the first two games and just about skunking them in the third. I was watching my partner throw when Rosalie ran up behind me. “Steven! What on earth did you tell my mother?”

“Oh…she asked how long we had known each other and I told her not long enough to propose.”

“My God! They think we’re almost engaged.”

“Well, would that be so bad?” I stepped away so we could have some privacy. “I’ve only known you for a few days, but I really missed you yesterday and that’s never happened to me before. I’m strictly a one-woman man. I’ve never had more than one girlfriend at a time and I’ve never wanted anything else. I thought I’d miss Sheila—we lived together for three months—but I didn’t. All I could think about Friday night and yesterday was you. I could fall for you in a big way. Hell, I am falling for you.”

Rosalie looked up at me then smiled. “What the hell; why not give them something to talk about.” She wrapped her hands around my neck and moved up to kiss me. She took me by surprise, but I reacted quickly, my arms around her waist as I lifted her six inches off the ground.

I gave her a little peck when I set her down then turned around to get my horseshoes from Uncle Al. “You got two more on that turn. You’re ahead 10-0 now. Eleven is a shutout.” I clanged the shoes together then threw a ringer and a leaner, making the score 15-0. Her brother Michael met me halfway to shake my hand and lead me away for a celebratory beer.

“You’re a decent guy, Steven, in spite of what my asshole uncle says. I only ask one thing—please don’t hurt Rosalie. She’s had some real jerks for boyfriends.”

“I don’t know what will happen, but I will tell you this—I really like your sister…a lot…and I think she feels the same, at least I hope so.”

“She must. She’s never brought anyone to any family affair before.” He patted me on the back and left for his wife and kids. Rosalie joined me a minute later.

“Wow! Your ears must be burning. They’re all talking about you.”

“Okay, what are they saying?”

“I have no idea. They’re speaking Italian and I don’t. I did pick up your name and mine a couple of times, but that’s all.” I couldn’t help myself. I laughed so hard I had to sit down. My new girlfriend followed a few seconds later, sitting across my lap. Her arm wound around my neck and she kissed me again right after I’d taken a swig of beer. She caught me off guard and I coughed, forcing some of the foam up and out my nose.

“I am so sorry,” I whispered, totally embarrassed.

“I’m not. You looked SO silly.” I put my arm around her waist to pull her closer. Even so, I was extremely careful where my hand went. I’d never take liberties and embarrass her in front of her family. We sat and chatted, mostly about nothing, until some of the kids began to throw a football. I joined them as Rosalie walked over to her parents. Soon I was involved in a “game” in which I was repeatedly “tackled,” getting my $150 shirt covered with grass and dirt. I didn’t care. I was having a great time. Later I was asked to help grill the steaks.

We all sat down at the same time and at one of the three really big picnic tables spread on the lawn. Rosalie and I held hands as Uncle Al said grace then we dug in. I had to admit the food was great, Rosalie’s family was great, and she was incredible. We left around eight after helping to clean up. I was surprised to see that Rosalie was carrying a brown paper bag from Stop & Shop. “Bringing food home?”

“No, these are my night things and clothes for tomorrow. Do you mind if I stay the night? I’ll sleep in the same bed with you, but I won’t have sex with you. It’s much too soon for me.”

“Okay. I understand and, truthfully, I agree.”

“Good. By the way, I sleep in the nude.” I wished she’d said that before I had pulled out into the street. My reaction made me fear that I’d run into something.


>>>>>>

I had driven about five minutes when I commented, “You didn’t have that bag when we arrived.”

“No, I didn’t. I spent yesterday afternoon with Natalie.”

“Umm…Michael’s wife?”

“Yes. We made the meatballs and browned them. Mom prefers to do it, but she had plenty of other things to do. I gave it to Natalie just in case. I wanted to see how you did at the picnic today.”

“I guess I did okay then.”

“Yes, you did. My mom and dad were very pleased with you, especially the respect you gave me. They also liked the way you stood up to Uncle Robert. He uses his position as a cop to bully people. I knew you wouldn’t be intimidated. I especially loved the way you played with the kids. I noticed that you were the only adult who did and you didn’t say a word when you were tackled although you went down awfully easily.”

“I thought I was playing against the Packers!” Rosalie laughed like crazy then leaned across the console to kiss my cheek. She took my hand and held it all the way home.

I pulled into my driveway about forty minutes later. Taking Rosalie’s hand I led her from the garage to the door that led to the kitchen. After turning off the alarm I turned on the lights and walked her to the family room. “Want a drink?”

“Thank you, but if I do I’ll be peeing all night.” She sat in the middle of the couch and I joined her. We were making out furiously a few minutes later. I was unsure of where to put my hands until Rosalie whispered, “Massage my breasts. Rub my nipples…please.” I moved my hands under her tee and found her soft flesh. My hands drifted behind her back and a second later her bra hung uselessly while I rubbed her nipples until hard. I moved my mouth to her neck, kissing her there and gently sucking her earlobe. Rosalie ran her fingers through my hair then, gripping it tightly, pulled my lips back to hers. Her tongue explored my mouth, wrestling with mine until she suddenly pulled back.

“I already told you I’d sleep in the same bed as you, but I’m not ready yet for sex. I don’t want you to think that I’m a tease though. Let’s get you naked and I’ll take care of you then we can shower and climb into bed.” With that she began to pull my shirt over my head and to unbuckle my belt. A second later she held my hard cock in her delicate hand. Looking into my eyes she asked, “Did you jerk off thinking of me?”

“Both nights,” I groaned.

“Good,” she whispered as she leaned forward to kiss the head of my cock, already weeping pre-cum. Her hand was surprisingly strong as she began to stroke me. “I like the size—not incredibly long, but nice and thick. It’ll do a great job of stretching me when the time comes. I love the color of the head. Reddish purple is one of my favorites and it sure is hard. That’s quite a compliment.”

“Thank you—for that and…oh God, that feels so….” By now she was stroking me strongly, her slender fingers giving me the friction I needed to go over the top. Of course, getting a hand job from a hot woman is usually stimulating enough on its own so I was getting more than I needed. Less than a minute later my hips were bucking in response and a few minutes after that my cock felt as though it had exploded. The first river shot three feet into the air before landing on my chest. Four more eruptions blew, landing mostly on my stomach before Rosalie squeezed the final drops from my wilting organ.
“Where’s the kitchen?” I pointed and she walked out to wash her hand before returning with a wet sponge and some paper towels. As she washed my chest she noticed the bandages for the first time. “What’s this? Are these bandages?”

“Yeah, they are. My ex decided that my nipples needed to be pierced even after I’d absolutely refused several times. She used these strong clamps that actually bored a hole through and refused to stop bleeding. I spent two hours in the ER before I met you in the library.”

“Oh…I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not. If she hadn’t done this we wouldn’t be together. C’mon, let’s grab that shower.” I scooped up my clothes and led Rosalie out to the hallway that led to the opposite side of the house. I lived in a four bedroom ranch with more than 3,000 square feet on the main floor and another 800 upstairs in the unfinished attic. I also had a full basement that was finished into a play room with a full bar, full-size pool table, and shuffleboard table. I especially loved the master bedroom. It had two large walk-in closets and an attached master bath that was bigger than some of the bedrooms I’d seen when I was looking at houses. Someday I hoped I’d get Rosalie into the large whirlpool tub with me.

Rosalie emptied her brown bag onto a triple dresser while I dropped my clothes into the hamper. I turned to face her and stopped short, uncertain of what to do next. “You can undress me. I’d like to join you in the shower if it’s big enough.”

“It is and it will be a pleasure.” I stepped forward, pulling Rosalie to me for a searing kiss. I moved her arms out of her tee, causing her bra to fall silently to my thick shag carpet. I found the button holding her tight shorts in place and opened it. Seconds later her zipper was also undone and I was sliding her lacey panties down her legs. I broke the kiss to lift the tee from her shoulders and help her step out of her shorts.

I tried to lead her to the bathroom, but she turned me and met me for another kiss—our first skin-on-skin experience with my hard cock trapped between our abdomens. It went on and on, our tongues dueling and exploring. I was humping her abdomen and she reciprocated on my thigh. Knowing she wasn’t ready to go any further I reluctantly broke the kiss. “I think we’d better stop unless you’re prepared to do a lot more.”

She looked up at me with a pout. “Party pooper!” Then she stuck her tongue out at me and with it still out moved up for a short kiss. “Thanks. That just reinforces how I feel about you. I usually take three months to get this far.”

“I knew it was a good idea to suck up to your mother.” She howled with laughter and I joined her. “Let’s get into the shower. We have a long day tomorrow.” I led her into the bathroom and turned on the light. Next I pulled two thick towels from the closet and set the shower to 102 degrees. One of the very best features of the house was the thermostatically controlled shower. It had its own tank-less heater that would warm the water in seconds.

Rosalie took a look and gave me a “TSK; I’m sure that someday you’d like me to put my mouth on this beautiful cock. I’m looking forward to it, but before I do this will have to go. I hate getting hair in my mouth.”

“Uh…I’m sure that will go over big with the guys at Thursday night basketball.”

“Just tell them the truth—your girlfriend hates getting hair in her mouth. I’ll bet you it will be the last you’ll hear of it.” She stood there, pushing her small tits out at me while she licked her lips. I opened a drawer, removed the razor and shaving cream then led her into the shower.

We washed each other slowly while we kissed and groped each other. We stopped when our fingers began to look like prunes. I dried Rosalie lovingly, rubbing her thoroughly with the towel before drying  
my body. I noticed Rosalie rummaging through the drawers until she found a pair of scissors. “I think we should get back into the shower unless you want a pile of hair all over your floor.”

She carefully snipped away the bulk of my hair then applied a dollop of shaving soap to my groin and my balls. Kneeling, she slowly and gently scraped the razor across my sensitive skin, stepping out periodically to rinse the razor in one of the twin basins. Finally, after about fifteen minutes she used the towel to remove the excess shave cream. My abdomen, cock and balls were as bare as the day I was born. Rosalie led me out, found my bottle of Lubriderm, and rubbed some across my groin to prevent razor burn. I led her by the hand to the bed.

I lay on my back with Rosalie lying half on my left side. “Have you ever been fishing,” I asked.

“Sure, I used to go with my dad when I was a kid. We had a little aluminum rowboat that he would trailer down to Blue Point. I used to catch little porgies and I even caught a fluke one time.”

“Things will be a little different tomorrow. Blackfish usually come in over Memorial Day weekend. They live in rocky areas so we can count on losing some tackle. Don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure that we have plenty. When blackfish bite they first grip the bait in their front teeth. If you try to set the hook then all you’ll do is pull it out of the fish’s mouth. You have to wait for the second tug. That occurs when the fish transfers the bait to its rear teeth. It takes a bit of practice so don’t get discouraged. We can go to a deli in Northport for breakfast and coffee then we’ll grab a few dozen sand worms. I’ll bait your hook because they have pincers that can get your fingers if you’re not careful. I keep my boat in Northport because the harbor is bigger and I like the Northport Yacht Club. We can change there once we return and have dinner if you like.”

“Sounds like fun. Are we ready to sleep now?”

“Not quite,” I said as I rolled over to meet her. We kissed, but only briefly as I moved my lips to her cheek and then her neck. Now, instead of kissing her, my tongue trailed down her body as Rosalie gasped in response.

“Oh God,” she whispered as I traced around her left breast and her areola before brushing my lips across her hard nipple. Once I had reached the breast’s bottom I moved across to her right, repeating until her body shook and shuddered in response. Even then I was far from done. I spread her legs and moved between them as my tongue moved ever closer to her navel. Once around it and Rosalie wrapped her legs around my body as her breathing became rapid and irregular. Her entire body was wracked by spasm when my tongue entered her tiny belly button and she was clearly completely out of control.

Rosalie was actively humping my face when I reached her delicious bald pussy. Yes—no hairs to impede my journey. My tongue began just above her asshole and moved up so slowly that she was screaming before it reached her clit. My second swipe began with teasing her anus then sucking up all of her nectar as if flowed freely from her tunnel. I lingered there for a second before moving up to her clit again. Over and over I teased her until she was thrashing madly, the blanket and sheet thrown entirely onto the floor.

Finally, after more than twenty minutes I sucked her swollen bud between my teeth and gnawed. That’s the best way to describe it. I actually chewed on her clit—not hard enough to hurt her, but more than enough to send her over the edge into the abyss of a powerful all-consuming orgasm. Rosalie’s thighs were locked around my head until it began to ebb. Even then I continued to lick, cleaning her sweet cunt and her silken thighs. She was wasted when I rose to pick up the bedding and shake it over her. Then I climbed under to hold her.

It was several minutes later before she spoke. “What did you do to me? I had the most incredible orgasm of my life.” Then she turned to face me. “I would have let you fuck me. I wanted you to do it.”

“I know, but I’m glad we didn’t. Having sex too early in a relationship cheapens it. It’s just lust, no different than two animals on the rut. I’ve always found waiting to be more rewarding. When we do it we’ll make love not just fuck.”

“When did you and Sheila do it?”

“First date…three times; I think that’s one of the things that destroyed our relationship. I wouldn’t want that with you. Now I think we’re ready to sleep.” I gave her a peck on the lips and rolled her over so we could spoon. She moved my hand onto her breast and shimmied until my cock was firmly in her crack. I kissed her neck and we fell immediately into the deepest sleep I’d known in ages.

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