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I was done with the drug wars. I bailed. I found my hideout deep in the forest in the east of the state. A good place to live quietly on my ill-gotten gains. The last thing I wanted to hear was the sound of a car rumbling down my dirt road.
It was a beat up aging Dodge. Three people were inside. A woman I did not want to see opened the back door and stepped out gym bag in hand, as I watched from behind the blinds. Near 20 years gone since I’d last seen that redhead. The other two, man and girl, remained in the car motor running. The girl must be the one Pammy said was my daughter. I didn’t believe that, not with that monobrow going. Pammy slapped at my door open-handed.
‘Shit!’
Full of reservations, I opened that door.
‘Oh, good. It’s you,’ she said face full of concern and maybe some apprehension.
‘Hi, Pammy. What’s going on?’
‘You remembered me.’
I shrugged. ‘How on God’s green earth did you find me?’
Her eyes left mine. ‘I asked Scotkins. I hope you don’t mind.’
Scotkins, a ghost from Christmas way passed. I used to deal to him back in the day. He was one of maybe three people knowing where I went – each one of them sworn to silence.
‘I’ll have to have a word with ol’ Scotkins.’
‘Don’t hurt him, Dirk. I had to beg.’
I shrugged again very noncommittally. ‘What can I do for you, Pammy?’
‘Please, Dirk, I need a place to stay. Please. I’ll do anything.’
‘Pammy…’
‘Please, Dirk. I need it. I’ll earn my keep. I will. Cook, clean…’ she begged eyes pleading, tearful.
‘I don’t need a servant, Pammy.’
‘Dirk, I’ll do anything.’
I took a second look at Pammy. She was a tall girl, a Kanas farm girl, what we used to call big boned. She was meaty not chubby, heavy jawed, but, if I remembered correctly, she had great skin.
‘Anything?’
‘I’ll do anything, Dirk,’ a certain amount of hesitant promise entered her green eyes.
‘Just you?’
‘That’s Suzy, our daughter, and her man. They’re going on to Vegas.’
I didn’t rise to the ‘our daughter’ bit. I didn’t believe it and Pammy never asked for a DNA test. I rethought. Pammy did always have the worst of crushes on me.
‘I’ll give you a few days, Pammy.’
She positively glowed. With the briefest of waves, the car ground into reverse and headed out. I took a step back allowing the door to open. Pammy entered.
She started to speak, maybe to say thanks. I shook my head.
‘Put your bag down by the door,’ I said and took her arm niğde escort to lead her to the center of the room. ‘You said anything?’
She started to speak again but I held up a hand.
‘Stand here. Be silent. I wish to look at you.’
And, that’s what she did. I sat on my couch and that’s what I did. I looked. Pammy looked away apprehensive again. She did not think she was pretty but she wanted to be thought of as pretty. She shifted from one foot to the other. She reached to clutch herself by the elbows but dropped her arms allowing me to see her. Waiting.
She’d cut her half-red half-blonde hair nicely at shoulder length. Her face, showing all that Kansas blood, was handsome more than pretty, straight nose, heavy jaw, nice lips, pale. She wore a button up plaid shirt, a short light green skirt, and old white tennis shoes. Nice legs not thick, not skinny, an appealing tiny scar showed on her left knee. Legs not showing her age. She had to be in her middle thirties by now.
‘Turn sideways,’ I said. She did. I noticed her effort to draw in her stomach. I also noticed that her breasts seemed a bit larger than I remembered. She shifted her weight to the leg away from me and bended her other knee. Pammy did not know what to do with her hands. That fidgeting was alluring.
‘Turn toward the front door,’ she turned to face away from me. I still liked her hips, full and squared, made for fucking and making babies. The backs or her thighs were still nice, only the shadows of a bit of cellulite. She kept shifting her weight from one foot to the other. The hip swaying turned into poetry.
‘Turn back to me,’ she did. ‘Unbutton your shirt. Slowly.’
Again, Pammy turned her eyes from me, this time looking down at the floor. One at a time, the buttons parted. She started to pull her shirt open.
‘Don’t. Drop your arms.’
Pammy obeyed. Pammy was not ripped. She was not porn star buff. She was a woman. Under her navel, an inny, the smallest of a belly rode above the waist of her skirt. Her bra peeked at me a bit, white, a touch of frill, not new. She still swayed back and forth her knees bending and unbending almost coyly.
‘You may take off the shirt. Drop it on the floor.’
She reached to pull the front apart, shrugged out of the shirt, then reached out with her right hand and dropping it to the floor. Her breasts were in fact a bit larger than I remembered them. She was feeling my gaze because her nipples pushed to show against the bra. I noted the flush appear on her ordu escort neck and cheeks. I noted the failure to meet my gaze — again.
‘Now, the bra,’ I said, not a request.
Pammy reached behind her. She grimaced with the effort fumbling with the clasps. She arched forcing her covered breasts forward, forcing her stomach forward, forcing her knees to lock, forcing her thigh muscles to clinch. Forcing a slight thrust of her tongue between her lips. Then, like every woman I ever watched remove a bra, she reached forward to hold the bra against her tits while she shrugged the straps off her shoulders.
Time and motherhood had been good to Pammy’s breasts. I remembered them being pert little things with nice, barely pink puffies, with pale wide aureoles. The aureoles tightened a bit over time and darkened and now her nipples came out to greet a man cigarette broad and pencil erasure long. Pammy let her arms drop to her sides. She let the bra slip to the floor. Her eyes made a quick glance at my eyes. She saw that I liked what I watched. For the first time, a slight smile crinkled at the edges of her mouth. Again. she looked to the floor.
‘Remove your shoes.’
I got to watch her legs lift one at a time, the way the movement pronounced her knee caps, the way it reshaped her thighs, allowed her breasts to hang loosely from her ribs, the quick peek of her panties. She bent over further to place her shoes primly next to the fallen bra.
‘What color are your panties?’ I said as she straightened. She opened her mouth. ‘No, show me.’
Shy like a little girl, Pammy placed her hands on the hem of the light green skirt. Her fingers curled under the hem and the skirt rose a bit and a bit more. Her flush deepened. I wondered why. We were once lovers. I’d seen her before. I think even her thighs reddened. The panties were white and cotton. Did she remember that was my favorite?
‘Drop the panties, Pammy.’
That was done quickly enough. She hooked her fingers under the waistband, slipped them off her hips, and let them fall to her trim ankles. The skirt fell back into place too.
‘I want to see it, Pammy. Show it.’
She pulled up the skirt. Her bush was the same blondish red as her hair. She did not let the thing grow free and shaggy, but she did not shape it either. I liked that also. I’m not a fan of bare pussies or landing strips.
I looked up into her eyes this time for she watched me closely this time. Did she look for my approval? I shrugged.
‘Had enough?’ rize escort I asked.
Pammy shrugged. She looked at me waiting for more. I slid to the right side of my couch.
‘Come and sit with me. Let’s watch some TV.’ She stepped out of the panties still entangled around her ankles and walked tight assed to the couch, grateful I thought. I watched her tits jiggle until she sat. I turned the news on and noticed it was dark. I slouched back and put my feet up on the coffee table. She watched me for refusal as she leaned over to put her head on my lap.
‘May I talk now, Dirk?’ she said almost a whisper.
‘For the moment,’ I said.
‘Do you want me to blow you?’ I was silent. ‘I do it good. I’ve gotten better. I have.’
Well, she was never that bad at it.
‘Sit up,’ I said. She looked fearful all of a sudden.
‘I don’t want a blow job now,’ I said. However, as I spoke I pulled off my shorts. Watching her, seeing her squirm, instructing her, controlling her, had aroused me. I had half a hard on. ‘Still, let my dick into your mouth. Just hold it in there and watch the news. That’s all. Just hold it in there.’
Pammy nodded. She placed her head back in my now naked lap. My dick stiffened a little moving to touch her cheek. I felt Pammy’s mouth open. My dick literally fell into the moisture of it. She closed her lips around me and squirmed her head until she was more comfortable. Furtively, her hand came up to my knee then trailed softly up my hairy thigh until she touched my scrotum. There it waited for a moment as if she waited for permission or refusal. When neither came, she began to play gently with my balls.
Slowly, my dick stiffened to a full on hard as I felt the hot moisture in her mouth. She did good. She lay still holding it in there quietly. Only her hand moved tickling and rolling my balls in her fingers. I could feel the slobber fill her mouth. Every few moments she gathered it with a little suction then swallowed it.
The room lights reflected us sitting and lying on the couch, her legs glowing in the glass, my dick in her mouth, her hand working my balls. Every few moments Pammy looked in the glass pensively watching me watching her. I gave her a pleasured nod and felt her lips smile a bit. Each swallow made me closer. Ever closer. I exploded in her mouth feeling her stiffen, seeing her surprise, knowing the sensation of her swallowing my load.
I took her head in my hands pulling her off me. My wet dick flopped against my belly. I lifted her and looked at the globs of jizz here and there on her chin. Nice.
‘Go to bed. Don’t talk. Don’t change. Get some sleep. I will join you later,’ I said. I watched her swaying hips still in the short skirt as she walked to the back of the house.
This could work.
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