Still Got What It Takes

Still Got What It Takes by Reed Manning

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Copyright ©2001 Dave Smeds First published in Penthouse Forum, November 2001 NOTICE: This ebook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This book cannot be legally lent or given to others. This ebook is displayed using 100% recycled electrons.

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Still Got What It Takes by Reed Manning

Gulls floated overhead, the surf murmured in the near distance, and the wind toyed with the blades of salt grass crowning the dunes that surrounded Ricki and Perry. Ricki sighed, the soft, fine sand under the blanket yielding with each twist of her body. Sunshine flashed off her dark glasses—the only item she was wearing—and added to the warmth of enthusiastic, longterm fucking. She felt she should be focussing on the magnificent sensation of Perry's dick gliding in and out of her cunt. His girth stretched her so sweetly, and his rhythm had hit just the right place to make her breath catch and lure her toward another orgasm. But this wasn't like the bedrooms or parked mini-vans where they'd done it before. This was out in the open. The setting was turning her on just as much as Perry's attentive tongue, cock, and hands. A hundred yards away, people were combing the low-tide sands for fresh shells. Volleyball players were knocking a ball back and forth across a net, shouting as each point was made. Surfers were admiring each others’ boards. If Perry and Ricki stood up, they would be able to peek through the grass and see them. As the thrill of exposure pumped through her again, her clit began to tingle. “Let's shift around,” she urged. Obliging, Perry uncorked and kneeled back while Ricki flipped over. She pressed her boobs, arms, and the side of her face to the blanket, tail high. Doggie style. She wanted to be an animal, doing it in the wild. 3

Still Got What It Takes by Reed Manning

Perry eased his pecker back into her swollen, well-worked slot and set to pounding. He was such a dear—he knew she wanted to be fucked hard and fast. She gripped with her vaginal muscles, intensifying the pounding, and reached up to vibrate her clit. Not stroke it. A slight finger-wiggle was all she needed. After all, it wasn't her wrist that was going to climax. Just as she was starting to tremble, Perry coated his little finger with the slickness drenching her crotch and smoothly impaled her ass. “Ah,” he said, burying the pinkie to the hilt, “I can feel myself fucking you!” That did it. Her pussy tightened, her lungs seized up, her boobs hardened, and sweat exploded from her forehead. The spasms began. When Perry realized the moment had arrived, he groaned in satisfaction and suddenly her insides were awash with hot flow. It was the first simultaneous orgasm of their relationship. She moaned and thrashed and lasted double the usual time. As her sphincters squeezed his finger one last time and air flooded her chest, she knew she wouldn't forget this day. **** Ricki's reverie was broken as she glanced up from her desk and saw the long line of customers that had invaded the bank, and was guilted out by the forlorn looks that the tellers gave her. Sighing, Ricki saved the changes she'd entered on a spreadsheet program and went to the aid of her coworkers. It was nearly half an hour before she was able to return to her computer. Crap. Now her official duties would keep her that much past the scheduled end of her shift. She made a 4

Still Got What It Takes by Reed Manning

mental note to ask the vp when she was going to get that private office. Keeping the managers’ desks out in the main room might suit the One Big Happy Family dictum, but it mired her in the grunt work she'd worked so long to escape. A man was sitting in her visitor's chair. “Yes?” she asked. “Regional sent me,” he said. “We're scheduled to go over the redesign implementations?” “Scott,” she said, recognizing his voice from their phone conversations. “Pleased to meet you at last. I'm Ricki.” She extended her hand. He took it, smiled, and squeezed gently. A trickle of warmth flowed down her spine. She hadn't realized he would be her own age, or that he'd be hunky. What a great head of hair—dark and wavy, the kind she'd always imagined her boyfriends would have, but hadn't, so far. She wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through it. She put the thought away. This was a bank and they were professional colleagues. “Well, let's get started, then. Let me call up that file you emailed.” They settled harmoniously into their task. As they huddled over her computer, she explained how things were done at her branch, and he outlined the modifications. No turf wars. No patronization. Why had guys like him been in such short supply the past few years? Or was it just that she hadn't been looking anymore? Wistfully she rubbed her engagement ring. As the afternoon dwindled, she became aware that Scott was staring at her. She caught him checking out her lower 5

Still Got What It Takes by Reed Manning

legs as she walked back from the photocopier, as if her clothes were some kind of disguise. Rather than annoying her, the scrutiny gave her a glow. She began to relish the knowledge that they'd be working together all week. Was he just girl-watching, though, or was he working out some sort of puzzle? “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?” he asked after the doors had been closed to the public. She smiled. “‘Course not.” He cleared his throat. “I used to hang out at a certain beach near San Diego. I think I remember seeing you there.” She nearly tipped over her coffee cup. “Oh, God. You did?” She pretended to be engrossed removing a strand of lint from her gray, office-appropriate skirt. When she summoned the courage to look up, she saw on his face a heartwarming mixture of adoration and vivid reminiscence. “Did you see a lot of me?” He chuckled. “Well, ‘clothing optional’ was what the signs there said, right?” Suddenly she got an image of him playing volleyball on the sand. Simultaneously she realized she'd seen Scott early that day talking into the vp. No wonder she'd been dreaming of those long, lazy summer days. At some subconscious level, she'd recognized him, too. “That was when I was much younger,” she said. “You don't exactly look old now.” He gave her another evaluating look, and she couldn't help but beam, outside as well as in. 6

Still Got What It Takes by Reed Manning

“I'm twenty-eight,” she said. “Look. A gray hair.” She pointed her pencil at her temple, where she'd spotted the offending strand that morning. He leaned forward, close enough that she could smell the coffee on his breath, and catch a whiff of his cologne. She widened her nostrils and inhaled fully. “You must have better eyesight than I do,” he said. She pulled out her compact mirror and checked. “Well,” she said, shrugging, “maybe it came out in my comb. But really, I haven't had a decent tan in three summers, I wear contact lenses now, and I've put on weight.” “Those ounces must've gone to just the right places.” As he grinned, Ricki's blush deepened. Damn him. He wasn't letting her focus on her flaws. How else could she keep her long-dormant exhibitionism from surging up? She couldn't. In her mind's eye, she was no longer standing there in her prim bank-manager dress. Her tame-the-tits brassiere no longer confined her. Her hair flowed over her shoulders, loose and unfettered. She was a nude-beach chick in her element, displaying herself to the world. It felt wonderful. Reality intruded. Pedestrians ambled by along the sidewalk. The janitor banged his mop buckets in the foyer. Her hair was still pinned. The difference was, instead of all this seeming normal—dull, but normal—it had become an intolerable milieu for such a lively spirit as she. With Scott leaning so close his pheromones were triggering her nipples to stiffen, the old adventurous Ricki simply had to surface. 7

Still Got What It Takes by Reed Manning

“I didn't just sunbathe and swim at that beach,” she found herself saying, trying not to listen to the words for fear she would stumble over them. “Oh?” His eyebrow rose. “I used to slip back into the dunes with a blanket. And a boyfriend.” There. She'd said it. Scott rose to the bait like a trout to fly. “I never had the guts. Outdoors, you know.” “I only did it a few times,” she added quickly, not wanting him to get the wrong impression. Those occasions had been experimental. Perhaps that's what made the memories so delicious. “Until you got interrupted?” She laughed. “How did you know?” She could still picture the expression on the face of the senior citizen who had appeared out of the salt grass just as Perry's wang scooted up her ass. The old guy must have known what sort of beach he was approaching, but clearly, it had been many a year—if not a lifetime—since he'd seen such an eyeful. To this day she couldn't avoid giggling whenever she spread her cheeks for a little backdoor action. “Just a guess.” He looked down at her curves hungrily, hand twitching as if to slide around her waist. “I'm married.” “I know,” she said, having long since noted the wedding band, “but you didn't bring your wife along, did you?” “She's five hundred miles away,” he confirmed. “And my fiancé won't be back in town until tomorrow. I can't offer you a beach, but I have a nice indoor spot where 8

Still Got What It Takes by Reed Manning

you could ... see if this body measures up to what you saw back when.” “In the old days, things like this never happened to me,” he said. “In the old days,” she replied, “I wouldn't have had the assertiveness to make it happen. So what do you say?” His smile split his face from sideburn to sideburn. “I say, let's get some dinner. I have a feeling I may need the calories.” **** One thing immediately stood out as better than her former life, and that was the lack of any need for pretense. No dating protocols. No games. All they had to do was go with the flow, and they both knew it. And so, relaxed and at ease, they enjoyed a dinner and wine at her favorite Italian restaurant. She showed off her apartment and jazz memorabilia, playing some of her favorite cds. By then, the anticipation had drenched her panties. “Let's start in the shower,” she said. “I have something I want to try.” She entered the bathroom, but gestured that he was not to follow. “Get naked. I'll let you know when to come in.” “Sure thing,” he said, with that I'll-do-anything-for-you accommodation she seldom received from her fiancé any more. Shutting the door completely, she slid out of her clothes and into the shower. The spray danced over her tits and set her to gasping. Her nipples had that please-suck-me sensitivity they developed only when she'd been constantly 9

Still Got What It Takes by Reed Manning

horny for hours without release. The water flowed down between her legs, making her moan out loud. Handling her twat set her to quivering, which made it difficult to accomplish one of the tasks she'd set for herself: To renew her shave job, not wanting to assault Scott with her nubs. She'd kept her pussy bare ever since the start of bikini season—what little of that she'd been able to take advantage of—partly because it drove her fiancé crazy when she went out with him with nothing, not even pubic hair, beneath her dress. The touch-up went quickly, and the result was a mons so smooth she drooled, wishing she were limber enough to lick herself. She rinsed the shaving cream, washed everywhere else, and stepped from the shower just far enough to shut off the light. The glow of the moon, nearly full in the east, paraded through the little window at the top of her shower stall. “Come in!” she called. The doorway briefly let in a rectangle of light, then Scott's athletic silhouette appeared beyond the shower curtain. She lifted the barrier out of his way. “How am I supposed to see if you measure up?” he asked good-naturedly. “Patience, sir,” she teased. “First, stand right here.” He moved under the spray. Barely short enough to fit under the nozzle, the water and moonlight turned him into a Greek-god statue. He was certainly hard as a statue, his boner knocking the droplets right and left. The darkness succeeded in removing the last faint traces of inhibition about doing it with a man she'd just met. 10

Still Got What It Takes by Reed Manning

Ricki washed him, spreading soap across his firm muscles, kissing him as she rubbed her tits against his torso, and once he was rinsed, she knelt down and wrapped her mouth around his cock. Scott moaned and lowered his hands, alternately lifting her drenched locks of hair from her face or pressing her head forward in order to mouth-fuck her at his preferred rhythm. This mixture of tender lover and horny beast excited her so much she kept sucking much longer than she'd set out to. She gave up only when her lips were numb and his hard-on was twitching as if preparing to shoot. Couldn't have that. Not before she got hers. She gave him one last, playful lick, shut off the shower, and ducked on the other side of the curtain. At her flick of the switch, the flood lamp blazed into life overhead. The lamp was intended to remove humidity from the bathroom, but it made an excellent spotlight. She lay back on the bathmat and ordered Scott to pull back the curtain. He did so, and whistled, eyes roving every part of her glistening, urgently horny body. “It's better than I remember.” Still dripping wet, he lowered himself to the floor between her legs, pausing only long enough to caress her boobs before he dipped his tongue straight into her crack. It was as if the serpent of temptation had crawled up inside her. Ricki moaned, shuddering at the delicious tickle. Her cunt opened obligingly, and in spite of its small size, had no trouble accepting the pair of fingers that moved in next. His tongue shifted upward to her clit. 11

Still Got What It Takes by Reed Manning

The hot, rubbery flesh rolled over her button in clockwise circles. Her eyes and mouth popped wide in awe. Oh, no, she thought, I'm marrying the wrong guy. Perhaps her fiancé could get a tongue transplant. The lamp evaporated the water on their skin, but sweet perspiration replaced it, and Ricki came. First a brief spike of ecstasy, then a full-tilt spasm, then a series of itty-bitty climaxes. She wasn't sure whether to count it as three orgasms, or seventeen. She rolled over, crawled from the bathroom, and flopped on the bed on her tummy. “Fuck me, Scott,” she said deliriously. He put her legs together, placed his knees outside her thighs, and plunged his boner into her pussy. Wonderfully animalistic, like that time on the beach with Perry. Ricki felt like a she-cat in heat. He pounded hard, her buns and thighs an ideal cushion. The position also allowed her to squeeze him vigorously, with many different muscles, on each outstroke. It made his prick seem twenty inches long. He was a sex machine, she decided, when the vigorous humping didn't put him over the edge. For the last three years it seemed all she ever got were quickies. Grinning like a fiend at the opportunity, she lifted up, rolling him onto his back without disimpaling herself, and rose into a squat, facing his feet. “Yeah!” he said. Glancing back, she saw that he was gazing at her anus and the juncture of her cunt and his prick. He spread her cheeks wider. 12

Still Got What It Takes by Reed Manning

His joy at the view did good things to her ego. Even more ready to please, she put her long, supple legs to work, bouncing up and down atop him. He cupped her buns, helping her support her weight. The position gave her excellent access to her clit. With just a little rub, she was coming again—but more forcefully even than the last time, because her hole had something more than fingers to grip. The orgasm turned her legs to putty. Giggling, she fell off. Immediately his arms were under her, tossing her face up to the center of the bed. Grinning with feral intensity, he penetrated her again. She raised her knees high, her cunt swallowing every last inch of his dick. She watched his expression evolve from ardor to frenzy to awe and then to the brink of release. Even then, he didn't rush it. “Come for me!” she whispered. He heaved. Pelvis convulsing against hers, his wad sent fire into her loins. She didn't come—she was much too enraptured by his climax. Instead, she melted into buttery soft afterglow, just in time for him to collapse into her arms and legs. **** The morning found them languorously wrapped around one another, Scott's right hand on her left tit. Finally she shut off the alarm and faced him. His expression was bittersweet. “This was the only time, wasn't it?” he asked.

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Still Got What It Takes by Reed Manning

“Well, my fiancé will be home in less than twelve hours.” She gave a shrug of resignation. “We've both got responsibilities.” He sighed, nodding. No protests. It was the way it had to be. But, looking again at the clock, Ricki grinned mischievously. “Meanwhile, I don't see anything wrong with another little tribute to younger, more carefree days. Unless you really insist on taking time for breakfast?” He smiled, lifted one of her legs out of the way, and lowered his tongue to her cunt. “There are breakfasts, and there are breakfasts.” Ricki's inner wetness rose up to meet the moisture Scott was applying to her outer lips. The last time? Maybe. A gal never knew when she might need a reminder that she hadn't lost her sense of adventure.

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