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His butt was getting numb. Squirming around for relief had become an impossible endeavor. It had been hours since he left Miami in the bed of that rickety, vibrating pick-up truck. Brad’s legs ached and he desperately needed to stretch and walk around. Twisting around to look forward through the cab windows only frustrated him more.

“Shit! I can’t even see the next island.” In despair, Brad drooped his shoulders and tugged on the edges of the white sailor’s cap, pulling it tighter on his head.

Damn, I look like Gilligan with this silly thing on, he thought, but he knew it was keeping his face and neck from getting sunburnt.

I hate that I’m going to miss Miami Vice on TV tonight. I hate when they do those two-parters – to be continued. I hate that. Those smugglers are holding Tubbs hostage and Sonny has to rescue him. It’s going to be a great episode and I have to miss it. Here I am in the back of this old truck thinking about a TV show, but that’s better than the other shit rattling around in my head.

The heat from the tropical sun was relentless. With all of the fishing gear stowed around him in the bed of that truck, there was barely enough room for Brad to sit. But sit was all he could do. Sit and think about what an idiot he had been. And hope that a fresh start would change his life.

A white Chevy Camaro passed the ancient Dodge truck he was riding in. Brad watched as it sped by. He thought maybe it was a 1978. It made him think of the beloved 1978 Trans Am he had just sold.

Fifteen hundred dollars. I sold it too cheap. Yeah, it was high mileage but I had babied that thing. It was in great shape. 

A seam in the causeway made the rickety pick-up jump. It rattled so much, Brad wondered if it would fall completely apart.

That would be all I need, for this old truck to break down on this stretch of causeway. I can’t even see land ahead. This bridge seems like it wraps around the ocean.

He hated sitting with his back to the truck cab the entire trip, but there was not an alternative. Twisting his body again, he tried to look forward. The old Cuban’s grandson was staring at him with his snotty nose plastered to the back window. Brad realized that only a quarter-inch of glass had separated the back of Brad’s head from that boogery nose.

Oh that’s a pleasant sight,  Brad teased himself. He shook his head. That’s getting pretty bad when I’m getting facetious with my own inner thoughts.

The old Cuban tossed a beer can out the driver’s side window. It clanged and bounced along the highway behind them. He reached down and pulled another Old Milwaukee can from a styrofoam cooler on the seat between him and his grandson. The can looked wet, cold from the ice it was packed in.

God in heaven, what I’d give for one of those cold beers.  Brad turned back around. Why torture himself? Even a glass of water would be great right now.

If I only had some music or something to read. Brad was tormented. I wouldn’t have to think about that bitch.

But think about her he did…

“Damn, man? You’re not marrying that stripper are you?” Brad remembered his best friend’s words. “Fuck her for two weeks, dude. A fuck fling, she’s a stripper! Two weeks then move on.”

I got so god-dammed mad at him. Brad punched his fist into the palm of his hand. That fucker was right.

“He was fucking god-dammed right!” Brad shouted as loud as he could.

The memory was painful. He hadn’t seen any of the signs. Too stupid to, he thought. In love. Love? What the fuck is that? Love! Fuck that shit!

They had flown to Vegas – got married and honeymooned at the Flamingo Hilton casino. All of this just weeks after he had inherited a small fortune from his aunt. How did the girl know about that? That’s what she’d been after all along.

Three months later she was gone and so was Brad’s entire bank account – the entire inheritance. She was last seen at the airport with her old boyfriend, a small time fence and part-time pimp. And quite a wretch he was. He was too tan, leathery, and he hadn’t even reached thirty. He had a gold tooth, gold chains, wore his hair in a mullet and no one had ever seen him wearing anything other than a tank top.

Guadalajara. That was their destination – one-way tickets. There was no telling where they went from there. Brad didn’t even know if the bitch could speak Spanish.

She did have a Margarita tattooed on her ass, though. And damn, she had a great ass. She really knew how to flaunt it in the gentleman’s club. She had been the most popular dancer there. Perfect, natural D-cup tits usually don’t come with a stomach that small and thighs that firm. Her big hair was teased up in the newest style that had hit the 80’s like a rage. She looked like a dream – like a centerfold – a Penthouse Pet. And the way she could fuck? And suck!

Yes, she was blonde. But was she really? A little too blonde to be real. Oh well, I’ve known lots of bottle blondes.

She could make a guy lose his mind. She sure made me lose my mind.

Without any warning, not even the slightest hint that Brad could think of, she was gone. That bitch took everything of value she could pack. My watches, my class ring, my camera, even the pre-Civil War gold coin my grandfather had given me. That bitch! And of course, the bitch emptied my checking and savings account of the money my aunt had left me. She had been my last living relative. Man, my aunt was a great lady. Goddammit, it all sucks.

“Whoa!” Brad sat up quickly. “A tree!”

They had just passed a palm tree on the side of the causeway. Brad spun around to look forward. Greenery. Yes, excitement overwhelmed him. Land at last!

Brad knew it wouldn’t be much longer and he could get out of the bed of the rusty old pick-up, stretch his legs, and pee. His bladder felt like it would bust. He was thirsty too. A weird sensation, he thought. I’m thirsty as hell and dying to piss.

First some fishing trawlers appeared on the horizon beyond the narrow island, but as it began to widen, small houses appeared along the side of the highway. Eventually they appeared more frequently.

I have to pee so bad. Brad’s bladder more than hurt. It throbbed. The numbness in his legs was aching, and his butt, well, it had passed numb miles back and was now tingling rather painfully.

The truck rolled on, past a couple of trailer parks, ramshackle houses, and rough looking bars. Another bridge, but not near as long as the others and finally Brad saw the sign ahead Key West, Florida - City Limit. His heart leaped for joy.

Eventually, the old truck stopped in what must have been the center of the island. It seemed like all the buildings on both sides of the road and down both ends of the street were bars.

The pickup door squeaked loudly as the old Cuban pushed it open. “Estemos aquí,” he yelled.

As the old man and his snot-nosed grandson walked across the street to a bar, Brad pulled himself up on his feet. His legs felt wobbly for several seconds. Once his legs were steadied, Brad slid his pack on his back, gripped the side of the cab and vaulted himself over onto the street.

Brad went straight for the bar in front of him. A large sign adorned the front above the awning: Sloppy Joe’s. Taped on the door, an advertisement in the form of a handwritten sheet of paper, read, Bartender Wanted.

Pushing the door open, Brad walked in. A scant crowd, he thought. There were a few people sitting at tables, three were sitting at the bar.

“Bathroom?” yelled Brad toward a bartender wiping some spilled beer on the counter.

The bartender pointed his thumb to the right and nodded his head in that direction. Brad walked that way and found the men’s room.

Nothing at first. Having held his bladder for so long, Brad strained mightily before the flood opened up. When it did, damn! It seemed like the stream of piss might cut a hole through the grungy ceramic wall urinal. He peed so long that he was getting impatient to stop.

Feeling somewhat refreshed after washing up and splashing his face at the sink, Brad slung his pack over his shoulder and stepped out into the bar.

“Y’all still need a bartender?”

“Is the sign still on the door?” The sun tanned bartender never looked up from polishing shooter glasses.

“Well, I’m a bartender and I need a job.” Brad leaned onto the bar in front of him.

“Experience?”

“Three years in Atlanta,” Brad wiped his face, “Place called Tattletales.”

The bartender held a glass up to the light to inspect it. “That place in the Motley Crue song?”

“Yep, that’s it.” Brad looked at the bartender for a reaction.

“You have a criminal record?”

Brad cleared his throat. “Battery and use of fighting words in Cordele, Georgia.” Brad sighed. “Spent a week in jail and paid a three hundred dollar fine.”

“Did you start the fight?” The bartender still hadn’t looked directly at Brad.

“Yeah, I did. Some guy called a lady I was talking to, a whore,” said Brad, “I called him a son-of-a-bitch and broke his nose.”

The bartender smirked.

“Turned out he was the husband of the lady I was talkin’ to.”

A big grin spread over the bartender’s face. He turned toward Brad and looked him in the eye. “Tomorrow, be here at eleven a.m. I presume you can make Bloody Marys. The lunch crowd down here likes Bloody Marys.”

“You got it, eleven sharp. I’ll be here.” Brad grinned and straightened up. “By the way, what’s your name?”

The bartender grabbed a glass from the rack over the bar and poured it full of water then slid it across the bar to Brad.

“I’m Travis,” he answered as he reached out and shook Brad’s hand. “And your name is?”

“Brad,” he answered, “Brad Lambert.”

“Okay, Brad Lambert, you do good tomorrow and you got yourself a job.”

Turning up the glass, Brad’s Adam’s apple bounced up and down as he poured the water down his throat in one long gulp. The empty glass clinked against the bar surface as he sat it down.

“Yes sir,” answered Brad. He hesitated and asked, “Travis, do you know anywhere I can get a room for cheap?”

The bartender thumbed over his shoulder to his right. “Four blocks straight down this road and you’ll see a blue house, cedar shake siding, white trim, pebble roof and a pink door. There’s a sign out front that says scooters and bicycles for rent.”

Travis leaned over the bar toward Bob. “The place belongs to Lydia, she’s my aunt. She has a room available.”

“Great!” Brad perked up, “Thanks, Travis.”

“I live next door,” Travis raised his eyebrows and gave Brad a stern look, “so you be real nice to my aunt.”

“Cool, and I will be,” Brad nodded and turned toward the door. “See ya tomorrow at eleven.”

The house was unmistakable, just as Travis had described it, blue cedar shakes, white trim and a pink door. A couple of old, dinged up motor scooters were leaned up against the front porch. Next to them, an eclectic assortment of bicycles. Brad counted six of them. A hand painted sign above the front steps advertised “Scooters and bicycles for rent”.

Announcing Brad’s arrival as he stepped up onto the porch were several dogs, all sizes and breeds. They came running around the corner of the house barking loudly and circling his feet. Brad couldn’t move any closer to the front door as a very large dog, a mastiff of some sort, wouldn’t let him move any further.

Suddenly a girl appeared at the screen door and pushed it open. Brad was immediately mesmerized by her. He quickly noticed her long, straight, silky red hair. Her big blue eyes were the color of the ocean. She was almost as tall as he was and her body was lean but curvy. The long, pale blue sundress she wore was cut low enough to expose firm breasts, a little larger than average.

“Scat from here!” she commanded the dogs. “Brutus, you be nice, now move and sit.”

The large dog, his tail wagging quickly, moved out of the way slightly.

“I said sit, Brutus!” The girl waved her finger at the dog.

The big brown mastiff obediently sat, his tongue hanging out and his big eyes giving off a puppy dog look that showed the red haired beauty was his master. All of the smaller dogs were by then sitting dutifully behind and to the sides of Brutus, all with wagging tails brushing the ground behind them.

Brad broke into a big smile. “I’m looking for Travis’s Aunt Lydia.”

“That’s me.”

“Oh,” Brad was obviously startled, “but Travis is like forty or some…”

“Yeah, I’m just twenty-six,” a very charming smile filled her face. “I am Travis’s aunt, I was a late in life accident. Travis’s dad is my oldest brother.”

“I see,” said Brad. Oh my god! This girl is a knockout!

“I have seven older brothers and my cousins are more like brothers and sisters to me.”

“Well that makes sense,” Brad interjected. “No sisters?”

“No, but some cousins close to my age.”

“That’s good.”

“So are you needing to rent a bike or scooter?” asked Lydia

“No,” said Brad. “Travis said you had a room to rent.”

Brad could tell that Lydia was inspecting him closely with her blue eyes.

“You’re not on the lam are you – not a serial killer or anything”

“No,” Brad answered, “I’m a decent enough guy, I think.”

A brief silence hung in the air as Lydia squinted, her eyes focusing on his face.

What is she doing?

“Yes, you are,” Lydia said confidently.

Brad tweaked an eyebrow. How would she know that when she just met me?

“I’m Brad by the way,”

“Come in, Brad.” Lydia held the screen door open.

Brad stepped inside. The wood plank floors squeaked as he followed her to the kitchen.

Lydia gestured to the old 1950’s style dinette table and chairs. “Sit down.”

Brad pulled a chair out and sat, placing his elbows on the table and then nervously removing them when he remembered his manners. She’ll think I’m trash or something. Some drifter that just showed up.

“You don’t have to be formal around me.” Lydia pulled the chair out on the side next to Brad and sat. Placing her right elbow firmly on the table, she propped her chin in the palm of her hand and looked Brad in the eyes.

“So, what’s your story?”

Brad exhaled deeply. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“We all have embarrassing stories,” Lydia said. Her gaze showed keen interest.

“Well, I grew up in Atlanta and worked the last three years as a bartender – oh, Travis is giving me a shot at a job.”

“Great.” Lydia’s gaze was unwavering. “I’m sure you’ll get it.”

“Huh? Oh, yes, I hope so.”

“Go on,” she said.

“The place was a – uh, um, gentleman’s club.”

“A strip joint,” Lydia interrupted.

“Yeah.” Brad’s shaky voice sounded nervous. “Anyhow, I got involved with a dancer and, well, uh, very stupidly, I married her.”

“Are you still married to her?” Lydia inquired without altering her gaze.

“No, I’m not,” Brad exhaled again. “We were married three months. I had no idea anything was wrong – different. Then one night I worked while she was off, I came home after and she wasn’t there. All of her things were gone and anything of mine that was valuable. Just gone.”

“Oh,” Lydia said raising an eyebrow.

“Found out the next day that my checking and savings accounts were emptied. She was last seen at the airport with her ex-boyfriend, a real sleaze. They’d bought oneway tickets to Guadalajara. I don’t know where they went from there.”

“That’s awful.”

“The worst part is that just before I got involved with her, I had inherited almost a hundred thousand dollars from my aunt, and a house, which I had sold. All that was gone – overnight – just gone.”

This girl thinks I’m a stupid fool. Why would she give the room to a gullible fool?

“So, in her absence, I had to run a legal ad in the newspaper announcing I was divorcing her to get the divorce,” Brad’s voice trailed off. “All very humiliating.”

“Don’t be humiliated,” Lydia said reassuringly. “You are not a fool.”

Whoa, why did she say that, how did she know…

“Maybe a little naive, Brad. You’re very trusting and kind hearted.”

“What?” It seemed like she was reading his mind. “How do…”

“Brad,” she interrupted, “I know things – I can tell what someone is like as soon as I meet them.”

“How?” She’s freaking me out a little.

“Each person has an outer glow.” Leaning toward Brad and clasping his hand firmly between her two hands, Lydia continued. “I can see your light and I know what kind of person you are.”

“Whoa – you mean like ESP?” Brad was dumbfounded. “Or like in those Carlos Castaneda books?”

“Something like that,” Lydia answered.

I can’t believe this.

“You’re finding this hard to believe.”

“Uh – umm,“ stuttered an astonished Brad, “it’s different. I mean I haven’t ever encountered anything like this.”

Lydia smiled. Brad found her smile very reassuring.

“Get your pack and I’ll show you to your room.” Lydia stood up and walked toward the hallway.

Brad picked his pack up off the floor and followed.

“It’s fifty dollars, by the way.”

“Fifty dollars?”

“Your room,” answered Lydia. “It’s fifty dollars a week.”

“Oh – okay.”

She opened a door and gestured inside. Brad walked in and dropped his pack. Browsing the room, he saw a small, bunk sized bed, a plain dark wood dresser with a mirror mounted on the wall above it and a small rough-hewn table next to the bed as a night stand. Simple brown curtains were hung over the window and pulled to the side.

“The closet is small.” Lydia pointed to a closet door just past the foot of the bed.

“Well, I don’t have much,” Brad grinned.

"There’s a window unit that goes in here, but Travis has carried it to the shop to get refilled with Freon.”

“An AC will be real nice,” Brad smiled and shook his head.

“Down there at the end of the hall is the bathroom. Its an old style tub, but I installed a shower ring and curtain myself.” Lydia looked at Brad and smiled sweetly. “You’re going to really like it here, Brad.”

“Yeah, I think so,” he answered.

“I know so,” she reassured.

Astonished again, Brad looked at her, his mouth curled up into a half smile. Damn, she is incredible.

Her head half turned and she smiled.

“You’re welcome to watch TV with me on nights you don’t work,” she seemed to be looking for a response from him. “Today’s Friday, so I like to watch Dallas and Miami Vice.”

“Yeah, I love Miami Vice.” Awesome! I’ll get to see that after all.

“I was sure you did,” she said. “And tonight’s a conclusion of a two-parter."

Brad couldn’t help but gaze at her sexy physique and the way her butt twisted in the simple sundress she wore. This girl is amazing and totally gorgeous!

Lydia turned her head back to him and smiled as if he had spoken out loud and she liked what he said.

“If you want to go ahead and jump in the shower, I’ll bring a towel and lay it on the shelf next to the tub.”

“I guess I do need a shower,” Brad said.

Lydia placed her finger sideways below her nose, “Yes, you do!”

“Sorry, it was a long hot trip down here in the bed of an old, slow, rickety pickup truck.”

“I’m sure you’re hungry.”

“Oh God, yes, I’m starved.”

“How about some pan fried amberjack and potatoes?”

“Wow! You’re kidding?”

“No, we have all the fish you can handle around here,” Lydia said. “Now go get in the shower.”

Grabbing his personal kit out of his pack, along with a change of underwear and a clean t-shirt, Brad went to the bathroom and shut the door. After brushing his teeth, he glanced at his razor, remembering he only had the old, dull blade.

The stubble isn’t that bad. I can get new blades later.

Brad tugged his cowboy boots off and stripped. He knew he would have to re-wear his blue jeans but the t-shirt was rank and so were his socks. Wadding them up with his underwear, he stowed them in the corner and turned the shower knob on.

The nozzle coughed up air in the line as the shower pipe shook and danced until the water sprayed out. Holding his hand under the spray, Brad was eager for it to turn warm.

Finally the water was hot and he stepped into the tub under the warm spray. After his long trip in the bed of that truck, the cleansing hot water felt so refreshing that Brad found himself talking out loud. “Oh god, this feels so good.”

The crusty grit from the road rinsed down his sleek body. “Ooooh, yes,” he moaned.

The squeaky door announced that someone had walked into the bathroom.

“Brad, I’ve got you a clean towel.” Lydia’s soft voice sounded delightfully soothing but also very seductive. “I’ll leave it on the shelf here in arms reach.”

“Thanks, Lydia.”

Just then the metal rings of the shower curtain screeched against the circular, aluminum rod. The curtain jerked open.

Brad, covering his penis with one hand, turned quickly to see what was happening. Lydia stood there looking at him. The corner of her lips turned up slightly into a mischievous half grin.

“Lydia!?”

“Brad.”

Reaching behind her back, she untied the neck string of her sundress. Pausing seductively to look teasingly into Brad’ s eyes, she finally let go of the string. The blue dress slid down to the floor, revealing her completely nude body.

Unable to speak from shock, Brad stood there still holding his hand over his penis as the warm water showered his body and looked at Lydia. Her body was perfectly toned, and her long, straight, silky red hair was matched by a small, red pubic patch. Her breasts, firm and round with large puffy nipples, seemed to be aimed right at him.

Without taking her eyes off his, Lydia stepped over the tub edge into the shower and pressed her body against his. She took the soap from Brad’s other hand.

“I’m gonna scrub you myself.” Looking him in the eyes seductively, she slowly started to rub the bar of soap against his chest.

Brad still had not moved. Am I dreaming or is this real?

Lydia pulled his other hand from in front of his penis. “Let me see what I’m gonna get.”

She looked down at Brad’s cock, which had begun to grow hard. Running her forefinger along the top of it softly, she smiled playfully. “I like it,” she said.

“But Lydia, you just met me. This is…”

“I’ve been waiting for you a long time,” she interrupted.

“Uh – okay.” Pleasantly confused and very aroused, Brad couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Lydia’s face moved toward his, so Brad leaned in and they kissed, just softly on the lips at first. Then tongues intertwined. Passion tugged at their breath, their chests heaving. Brad wrapped his lean muscular arms around Lydia’s waist and pulled her tight.

His cock was throbbingly erect as it rubbed up against her silky smooth skin, warm water rinsing down their bodies. As Brad cupped Lydia’s butt cheeks, she dropped the soap to the floor of the tub. She wrapped her arms around him, tightly gripping his firm butt.

They continued their dance of tongues while Lydia’s breasts, her nipples hardened, pressed against his soapy chest. Brad’s hard cock pushed against her belly. She grabbed hold of it and began to gently stroke it.

Brad slid his left hand from Lydia’s butt downward underneath her cheeks, finding her ass crack. The warm water poured down her crack around his fingers. He soon found her asshole,. and pushed his other hand between her legs in front, allowing his fingers to slide down her wet pussy lips.

She moaned as his finger pushed between her pink pussy lips and slid into her cunt. His fingers gently probed her twat, while with his other hand he teased her asshole. She arched her back, allowing her long, wet, red hair to fall straight back. Her tits pushed up toward him, so he leaned downward, still fingering her, and kissed her nipples.

“I want you inside me,” Lydia moaned.

“It’s safe?” Brad asked while still exploring her cunt and ass with his fingers.

“I’m on the pill.” Her voice was little more than a whisper. She turned her body around, her hands pushed the shower curtain toward the window sill until she clenched it.

“Alright.” Behind her, he firmly gripped Lydia by the side of her hips. He pushed his throbbing cock between her legs and she arched her back, causing her butt to meet his cock straight on.

Using one hand, Brad found Lydia’s twat and guided his erect pecker between the swollen lips of her wet cunt. She moaned as he slowly pushed inside her until he was almost balls deep.

“Oh, god, Brad!”

Still gripping her waist, Brad began grinding his torso unto her, Lydia pushing her hips back to meet his thrusts. Her tugging on the shower curtain where it was caught between her hand and the window sill caused a rhythmic clinking on the curtain frame.

The warm water continued streaming down their naked bodies as Brad’s pelvis smacked against her buttocks. She continued crying out and moaning in pleasure.

With one hand still gripping the window sill for support, Lydia reached back and began rubbing and stroking at the back of Brad’s head and neck. He slid one hand up to her breast, squeezing it as a stream of warm water caught on his fingers and cascaded off her nipple.

This woman is so beautiful, I can’t believe this is real.

Brad’s throbbing cock continued plowing into Lydia’s cunt, rhythmically joining their bodies in ecstasy. He pressed his lips against the back of her neck and gently kissed her. She then squeezed his dripping butt cheek and slipped her long middle finger between his cheeks into his crack.

A small river of warm shower water rushed between his cheeks as her finger searched for Brad’s asshole. As soon as she found his pucker hole she pressed against it. Already very slick from the warm water, her finger easily penetrated his tight asshole.

Brad moaned delightfully as Lydia’s fingers had investigated the crevice of his butt, but that turned to a deep moan when her finger pushed inside his ass. It was not the first time his asshole had been made love to by a beautiful woman. The bitch who had stolen his money often explored his ass with her fingers and tongue, but Brad now knew she was not making love, just mesmerizing him with her skills until she could complete her ruse. There was something about Lydia’s touch that felt like love.

I can’t let myself develop feelings for her, We’ve just met. I can’t play the fool again. I can’t be gullible again, but I’ve never met someone who immediately made me feel like this.

Lydia’s finger found the spot she had sought. She pressed it against the inside of his scrotum and worked her finger.

“Oh god, that feels good!” Brad dropped his head backward as he moaned deeply.

“This is all very real, Brad,” Lydia reassured him. “You can let yourself go. Just go with what you’re feeling.”

Is she reading my mind?

“It's all going to be okay. I promise, Brad.”

Just then, Lydia pulled her finger from his asshole. She stepped forward, pulling his cock from her cunt and turned around quickly. Gripping his pecker in her hand, she looked into his eyes and giggled.

“I think we’re running out of hot water.” Her eyes sparkled.

“Oh, yeah, you’re right. It’s cooling down.”

Lydia reached over and turned the faucet off. “C’mon, let’s go get on the bed.”

“But, we’re wet.”

The shower curtain rings screeched as Lydia quickly shoved it open and grabbed the towel on the shelf.

Playfully holding up the towel to his face, she exclaimed, “Towel, silly.”

Brad grinned so hard his face cheeks dimpled.

“You’re so cute.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes you are, mister.” Lydia smacked Brad on the ass hard while laughing. “Now get out of the shower.”

Brad stepped out of the shower onto the floor mat, followed right away by Lydia. She squeezed her wet, naked body against his and kissed him. Their lips locked and her tongue dove into his mouth. Meanwhile, she wrapped the towel around both of them.

Locked tightly in a tongue kiss, Lydia was attempting to dry them off with the towel she’d wrapped around them. Brad’s erect cock rubbed and pushed against her tight stomach. She dropped the towel to the floor and started to rub his thick penis between her hands.

“Oh, fuck it, come on,” she spouted out, pulling her face from his.

She grabbed Brad’s hand and darted down the little hallway with him in tow. Leading him into her bedroom, she spun around, grabbed and kissed him again.

“Fuck me so good,” Lydia begged.

“I will,” Brad answered as he felt his throbbing cock press against her body.

Brad reached around Lydia, cupped her butt and picked her off the ground. He kissed her deeply again as he took the last few steps toward the bed and tossed her onto it. The bedsprings rang out, playing their metallic, squeaky tune as she landed hard on the mattress.

Both of them were more wet than dry, but did not care. Lydia spread her legs wide, her pink pussy lips glistening beneath her red curly patch. The alluring site beckoned him. Brad crawled onto the bed and buried his face between her damp, drippy thighs. He kissed her pussy lips and slid his tongue gently down her sopping twat.

Up and down his tongue worked, kissing, nibbling, teasing her pussy, his flicking tongue finally settling around her swelling clit, which had pushed out from its little hood. As he began to tease and suckle her love button, Lydia’s legs clenched. Her pelvis rose up from the bed, pushing hard into Brad’s face.

“Oh my, oh, oh my god!”

Lydia’s torso began to grind rhythmically against his mouth, her butt practically hovering an inch or two above the mattress as he continued to tongue fuck her aroused love nub. Then taking things to a feverish new level of excitement, Brad slid his finger into her juicy cunt. First one, then another, quickly followed by a third that made her eyes roll back in her head as she purred out loud.

Lydia sighed, "Oh, Brad, oh, my god, Brad!”

Finger fucking her cunt while he licked her clit had Lydia shoving her squishy pussy even harder into his face. Her cunt juices covered his lips and dripped down his chin. Throat groans announced that Brad’s arousal had elevated to a frenzy.

Followed by a few minutes of licking and finger fucking, one of his fingers found a spot inside her wet tunnel just behind her clit. Lydia’s body began to thrash. With no real warning to Brad, he was mostly caught off guard when her legs gripped him in a vice and yanked him downward hard onto the bed. His face squeezed in with no escape, Brad continued to suck on Lydia’s clit.

She shoved at Brad’s forehead. “Oh stop! Stop! I’m cumming!”

Her leg grip did not allow for him to pull his bead back, his face still buried in her juicy, orgasmic pussy, continuing to stimulate her. Finally, her legs separated just enough for Brad to pull his head and neck free.

He looked in amazement at the beautiful redhead lying naked before him, her drenched pussy caught in a wave of orgasms. Her voice panted out a shaky moan as her lips quivered.

Wow! I could do this with her forever.

Finally, Lydia’s orgasms subsided and her wet, naked body relaxed. She gazed up at Brad sitting up on the bed, leaning on one arm next to her.

“Oh, that was a surprise,” she laughed out loud. Then she reached up and brushed her hand across his face.

“So, you didn’t see that coming?”

“No, no, I sure didn’t.”

“Good.” Brad leaned down and kissed her lips.

He pulled back just enough to look into her big blue eyes which twinkled as she smiled at him. She touched her thumb to his lower lip then tugged on it slightly.

“Now fuck me, you beautiful man.”

Brad didn’t hesitate. He crawled between her long legs, which she spread very wide. He pushed his cock up against her shiny wet pussy lips and eased it inside her. As he slowly pushed in, Lydia inhaled in a deep gasp. She heaved upward, pushing her wet tits against his chest as he lowered onto her.

When his thick pecker pushed in balls deep, Lydia blinked and gasped again. Brad began to thrust gently, then picked up his pace and pushed his cock into her harder. His torso smacked into hers, creating a rhythm joined in by the almost musical squeaking of the bed springs and the drum-like beat of the headboard thumping against the wall.

Her shaky, excited voice rang out in moans and screams. “Oh Brad, Oh Brad, Fuck me, Brad! Oh, fuck me!”

With her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, Brad humped hard, grinding his cock deep into Lydia’s twat. His pelvic thrusts pounded against her clit. Lydia pressed her hand down to her clit and started to rub it. Her body soon pitched upward and her legs clenched around Brad’s waist.

As soon as she started to cum, Lydia grabbed Brad’s body and scratched her fingernails down his back, all while she dug her teeth into his shoulder. Then she slung her head back and screamed.

“Oh fuck! Oh god! I’m cumming! I’m cumming!”

The bed continued to rock, the springs squeaking and the headboard thumping rhythmically against the wall. Brad was not slowing down.

His nuts tingled. In fact, they felt like they were vibrating. Brad could feel his orgasm build, and like a California earthquake, it was about to unleash its pent up energy. Then it happened. It exploded through him like a volcanic eruption. Brad thought he could feel it shoot through every little tube from his testicles to his cock as if someone had shot electricity through him.

“Ooohh, uuhh,” Brad moaned his face grimacing from the orgasm.

As Brad began to cum insider her, Lydia yelled out, “Cum, baby, cum!”

Brad kept pushing and thrusting until he felt every last drop had squeezed through him. He then collapsed on the bed next to Lydia and pulled her to rest her face on his chest.

“That was amazing,” he could only whisper.

“It was, Brad.” Lydia’s chin rested on his chest as she gazed into his eyes. “I just now realized that I didn’t taste your cock.”

“Oh, you should remedy that very soon,” he grinned.

“Yeah, this evening after supper might be a good time, but we’ve got lots of time for that.”

Brad looked at her, hoping to find more clues into all of her insight. I barely know this gorgeous girl and it’s beginning to sound like she thinks something serious is going to happen between us.

“Get some clothes on, Brad, I’ll get into something and pan fry that amberjack and potatoes.” She rubbed her hand on his chest. “You are still hungry aren’t you?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m hungry. I’m starved, really.”

“Great. Oh, after supper we might go fishing at the peer.” Lydia sprang off the bed. “Do you like fishing?”

“Actually, I sure do,” answered Brad, slowly picking himself off the bed. “Back in Georgia, I went bass fishing a lot. Trout and catfish, too. Yeah, I love to fish.”

Lydia pulled on some panties and grabbed a pair of bluejeans. Her tits were bouncing as she tugged on the tight jeans, “Well, Brad, this is Key West. We got great deep sea fishing, but I really love fishing off the pier.”

Damn, she is perfect.

Decades later…

Brad stood along the wooden rail on the fishing pier, gazing at the sun as it lowered toward the horizon. He knew he’d need to stow the tackle soon and pack up the catch of the day.

He looked over to his right at his beautiful wife, gazing at him with her big, beautiful blue eyes. Her gorgeous, long red hair was now gray and white, but Brad thought everything about her was still perfect. He looked past her at the three-stair-step sized red headed girls with their feet dangling over the side of the pier. They held tightly onto their fishing poles.

The smallest one, sitting on the end, turned in his direction. Her eyes squinted in the sun. She looked at him and pointed at his fishing pole. “Hey gwanpa, I tink you gotta feesh.”

Sure enough, a fish was tugging on his line.

“Do I have any volunteers to help me reel it in?”

All three girls jumped up. “Me!”

Yep, I love living in Key West.