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table talk

From sandman@bitsmart.com Thu Mar 05 15:23:40 1998
Content Warning: The following work of fiction contains mature subject
matter and graphic sexual language. If this bothers you or if it is
illegal to possess such material in your locality, please hit the
delete button now. This is a work of fiction and any similarity to
any person(s) living or dead is pure coincidence. Under no
circumstances should this material be deemed suitable for minors.

Subject: A sort of friends and NOT lovers story.

Subject Matter: (M/F)
Rating: (X) Not suitable for minors. May be illegal in some areas.

Author: SandMan
Copyright ( c ) 1998 sandman@bitsmart.com
Archive: ftp://asstr.ml.org/pub/Authors/sandman/index.html

Distribution Rights: May be distributed freely WITHOUT MODIFICATION on
USENET, USENET II, not-for-profit web sites, not-for-profit ftp sites,
and news archival services which offer free public access to archived
articles. All other rights are specifically reserved by the author.

Credits: Proofed and very tastefully edited by Mike Ink, a reclusive
word-smith.

Creation Date: 3/5/98
Distribution Date: 3/5/98

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Table Talk (By Sandman)

"She would be absolutely perfect for you," Erin said as she inclined
her head slightly toward a blond bimbo sitting at a booth in the
coffee shop.

"After all these years, I would have sworn youíd know me better," I
replied in mock indignation. "Sure, sheís built right, and no man alive could resist those knockers, but just look at that vacant
expression."

"The Ďanything for a drinkí look," Erin said coyly. "It hasnít
stopped you in the past, though."

"Maybe Iím looking for something more than another one night stand."

Erinís eyes went wide and she clutched her chest in mock astonishment.
"You? The eternal bachelor? Passing up a good fuck?"

I smiled and Iím sure I had a light blush. Erin had a right to be
skeptical; she knew me too well and had a better tally of the women I
had slept with than I did. Erin is the only beautiful woman I know
with whom I have not slept, and that is not for lack of trying. We
grew up together, and she is the closest friend I have in this world.
Iíve made passes at her before--any red-blooded man would--but she has
always politely turned me down.

"Well, I am 30 now," I replied. "The big three-oh. Itís getting old waking up in a strange apartment, or worse, waking up in my own
apartment with someone I barely know. Youíre still single, you know
how it is."

"I do," she assured me. "I just never thought youíd get tired of the
hunt. You canít seriously be telling me youíre going to finally
settle down."

"Iíve given it some thought, yes."

"Anyone in mind?"

"You. Always you," I admitted.

She smiled. "Havenít we gone over this before?"

"We have. Itís why Iíve been so down lately."

She leaned forward and took my hand. "One day, if I havenít found Mr.
Right yet, and you havenít found Mrs. Right, and Iím sure youíre not
going to chase the next pretty face that walks by after youíve had
your fun with me, then maybe, just maybeÖ"

"Am I really that transparent?"

"You wear your motives as a bulge in your pants," she laughed, and I
had to join her, but soon I was brooding again.

After a brief silence, Erin said, "I know how to cheer you up."

"And howís that?"

"Go buy that pretty blond a drink," she said with a wink.

"Iíll pass. The company at this table is much nicer."

She made a playful face and then said, "I think you need perking up."

"I have a headache."

"Sheís pretty. That dress doesnít leave all that much to the
imagination. Just look at those hooters."

"Youíre not playing fair," I pleaded.

"Iím not talking to your mind!" Erin laughed. "Iím talking to your
OTHER head. She looks just slutty enough to let you fuck her breasts;
they look about the right size."

"Iíd rather make mad, passionate love to you," I suggested.

"Buy her a drink, take her home and bend her over the kitchen table.
Stuff your meat up her hot, tight ass while you feel up her breasts, I
bet you wonít feel so down then."

"Let me run my tongue through your pussy until you beg me to fuck you
instead."

"With a few Irish coffees in her, she might just give you the best
blow job you ever had in your life. Look at those lips, see how full
they are? I bet theyíd feel great around your cock."

"Just imagine how great youíll feel when I slide into your hot, wet
pussy with my chest brushing against your erect nipples, your legs
around me, our lips meeting, our tongues dancing."

"Maybe sheís games. She might even like to be tied up to a bed,
completely at your mercy."

"If you really want to make it a threesomeÖ"

Finally she broke off the intense conversation and laughed. "You,
Barbie and me, wouldnít you just love that!"

"Iíd love just you," I countered. "Tell me that the thought of you
and me together doesnít excite you."

"Tell me the thought of you and Barbie doesnít excite you. If you say
no, you have to stand up."

"Touche."

She dropped her eyes to the table.

"Iím dripping wet."

"Come home with me."

"I think tonight, I will go home with the fellow in the far table
behind you."

I turned around and saw an attractive man about Erinís age. Turning
back to face her, I sighed, "Well, I guess Iíll go buy Barbie a
drink."

"I knew you would."

"One day, Erin."

"One day."

Barbieís real name was Jill. She was a secretary out looking for a
good time and I donít know if I talked her into bed so much as she
dragged me. But as she spread her legs for me and guided me into her
warm, quivering pussy, it was Erinís face I saw in my mind.

One day.

-- Sandman

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