Fun and Games

Chapter 1

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Chapter 1

If anything, it was my grandfather’s fault.

He loved Alfred Hitchcock movies. All of them. Whenever my parents left me with my grandparents, inevitably Gramps and I would watch one of Hitch’s films. When I was young I figured he just liked suspenseful movies. Then I figured out he had a thing for blondes, like Hitch did. It took me a while but eventually I figured out my grandmother, before going gray, had been a blonde.

And somehow grandpa cursed me with a thing for older, sophisticated blondes.

As curses go, it wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t like admitting to your friends you only found blondes attractive would get me strange looks and humiliating insults. It wasn’t like I had a thing for feet or women weighing five hundred pounds or something really disgusting like being a secret furry.

So I only ever dated blondes in high school and in college and afterwards. But they had to be real blondes. I was fairly liberal in my definition of blonde, but if I got her panties off and found a bush of black hair, I was out.

When I met Jobeth it was supposed to be just a hookup. We met at a mutual friend’s party. She was beautiful and blonde with blue eyes and nice boobs. Maybe she knew she was a walking cliché, but I was the only one at the party bold and brave enough to approach her. I had only the intention of bedding her and moving on because I was twenty five and had no interest in settling down.

“Do you go by Jo or Beth?”

“Jobeth. Don’t shorten it.”

I nodded and sipped my drink. “Got it. Are you a natural blonde?”

She laughed at my boldness and then twisted her lips into a little moue of annoyance. “I should throw my drink in your face and walk away.”

“I notice you didn’t say yes or no.”

“There’s only one way to really find out, isn’t there?” She gave me a wink.

“Now I’m really interested,” I told her. “But there’s one thing I have to know before I waste any time on you.”

“Waste your time on me?” she sniffed. “Okay. Let’s hear it.” She rattled the ice cubes in her cup at me. “I still have a half full glass here.”

“Are you older than me?” I asked.

She laughed again. Jobeth laughed easily. I liked that. “Why?”

“I have a thing for older women. I don’t think I could be with a younger woman.”

Looking around the backyard where the crowd suddenly seemed much smaller as the sun went down. It was supposed to be a simple backyard barbecue, a meeting of friends. I didn’t want to talk to any of them now, just Jobeth.

“I’m no cougar. We have the same friends.”

We compared birthdays. She was a year and a month and a day older than me. She was born May third; I was born June fourth the following year.

That was good enough for my f****d-up psyche to allow my c**k to get hard.

Getting Jobeth into bed was easier than I thought it would be.

It was everything afterwards that was a complete disaster.

We walked to my place from the party. My apartment was two long blocks away, far enough for the both of us to have second thoughts but not far enough to sober up. She left her car parked on the street because she had been drinking. I wanted her to walk in front of me because I wanted to check out her ass but that would have been rude and obvious.

I settled for letting her go up the short flight of steps to the house where I rented the apartment with my friend Stan.

“My roommate probably isn’t home,” I told her as we walked in after checking out her ass. It was perfect, small and round. I wanted to grab it and make sure it was soft as well. “But I have my own bedroom.”

“Great,” she said, whirling around and wrapping her arms around me. We kissed and I maneuvered us from the tiny entry hall, through the living room, and eventually to my messy bedroom. Jobeth didn’t seem to care about the state of my housekeeping.

We fell on the bed together. She eagerly took off her top and bra so I had to match her, taking off my t-shirt. Her t**s were on the small side, B cups at best, and she had her left n****e pierced with a small silver barbell.

But I didn’t care about her t**s. I noted the faint tan lines formed by a bikini top that covered up her breasts but I was already kissing my way down her tummy. She had already kicked off her sandals and didn’t object in the least when I unbuttoned her jean shorts.

She helped me push the small article of clothing off her hips. She made sure to push off her panties in the same motion.

As I got between her legs, I was left with a conundrum as she displayed herself to me.

Her p***y was completely shaved.

She met my gaze with a laugh as she absently stroked her puffy p***y lips with a pair of fingers, teasing her prominent clit.

I pushed her hand aside and felt the smoothness of her mons and swollen labia.

“You shaved for a backyard barbecue in hopes of getting laid?” I asked her.

Of course she laughed at me. “No! I get my p***y waxed. Don’t you feel how smooth I am?”

“Oh, right. That makes sense.” I had never dated or f****d a woman who waxed her pubes. That was new for me. I’d heard of it, of course. But clearly she had a s****l agenda.

I liked it.

I liked it so much I was eager to start eating her p***y.

Just eating her out started making me hard. I loved eating p***y. I loved pleasing women. I loved making them c*m. I loved making them c*m over and over and then hearing them beg for me to stop because they couldn’t stand it anymore.

Jobeth was the type of woman who loved s*x and wasn’t the least bit ashamed to show it. I pinned her down to the bed, wrapped my arms around her thighs, and proceeded to give her a c*********s session like she’d never had before in her life.

Her breathing changed slowly from moans, to quickened gasps, to panting, to a loud cry of passion as she came and soaked my face with her amrita.

“Oh, you know your way around a p***y,” she complimented me.

“Thank you. Want to keep going?” I was a bit nervous. There was a reason that, over the years, I had refined my c*********s skills.

“Of course I want to keep going.” She sat up a little. “Show me your cock.”

I momentarily froze and then from where I had been laying prone, got up on my knees, and opened up my shorts. Cargo shorts tend to hide a variety of sins. Taking a breath, I pushed them down and showed off my c**k.

It wasn’t impressive.

It’s not like I had a micropenis, but after years of banging women, consulting the internet, and taking many, many measurements, I knew I was below average.

Jobeth’s immediate reaction wasn’t terrible, but it was somewhat predictable. “I’ve seen smaller,” she teased, reaching out for me.

Her hand cupped my balls and then slowly stroked my erection. She had average sized hands so it was possible for my four inches to disappear in her fist.

I moaned a little at her touch.

“I once had a boyfriend who was…huge,” she said, tilting her head to the side to better inspect me. “Short term boyfriend. f*****g him was like getting split in half. It wasn’t always fun. Let’s see if your c**k is as good as your tongue.”

That was all the permission I needed. I wiped my face with my hand and took my c**k in hand. As I lowered myself onto her, Jobeth shoved aside my hand and guided me into her p***y.

She was hot and wet and ready and I slipped easily into her p***y.

“Oh…yes!” she declared as I went all the way in. Or rather, I went in as far as I could. “f**k me. f**k me hard!”

So I f****d her hard. We f****d in every possible position. Missionary. Doggy. Cowgirl. Reverse cowgirl. I would have loved to finish with a prone bone, but my short c**k made that impossible. Sadly, we had to finish with plain old missionary again. Nothing exotic about that, but it was satisfactory.

Jobeth didn’t go running from my apartment. She spent the night. In the morning she dressed in her shorts and t-shirt, said good morning to Stan, and then walked back to the party house to pick up her car.

“How do you get such fine pieces of ass?” Stan asked me after Jobeth had left and we were drinking coffee in the kitchen.

“You just have to know how to please a woman,” I told him.

If only it were that easy.