I glanced up one side of the block, and then down the other. “Excuse me?”
“That night at the Italian restaurant, you said you said you’d suck my cock in the street. Driveway and street are connected, so it’s the same difference.”
“I was half drunk.”
“Most honest people on the planet are drunks and kids. Put my cock in your mouth.”
“It’s still daylight. Kind of.”
“It’s dusk.”
“It’s still light outside.”
He took a drink of his beer and set the bottle aside. “Be creative. Act like you’re tying my boot. Something.”
The thought of doing it began to overcome my natural reluctance not to. Within a few seconds, my pussy was a disastrous wet mess.
“Stop it,” I whispered. “You’re making me uncomfortable.”
“Too late for the innocent act,” he said. “I know you, remember?”
“Uncomfortable down there.” I glanced at my crotch. “I’m soaked.”
“Let me feel it.”
I glanced over each shoulder, and then sighed.
“Do it on the sly.” I stepped in front of him. “Don’t show the neighbors my ass.”
It was the time of day when the daylight quickly became enveloped by the darkness of night. It simply hadn’t happened yet. I could see all the way up the block, which meant the neighbors could also see me.
I scanned the block nervously.
His finger circled my clit.
“Stop it,” I whispered.
He slid his finger back and forth along my wet lips, and then pushed it inside.
I exhaled a sharp breath, and then sucked one in. It felt so good.
“Crap,” I gasped.
“Being fingered in the driveway beats getting fingered on the couch, doesn’t it?”
I nodded. “I think so.”
He slid his finger in and out a few times, and then teased my clit. I glanced over each shoulder. It was slowly becoming darker, but I could still see the silhouettes of all the homes, their landscape, and the cars.
The sound of him unbuckling his belt caught my attention. My eyes shot to his lap. I gawked as he pulled his stiff cock out and began to stroke it. “Turn around and ride me.”
“Right here?”
“Right here.”
“How?”
“Lower that little wet pussy down on my cock. Just act like you’re sitting on my lap. It’s an advantage of wearing a dress.”
I wagged my knees back and forth. Although riding his dick in a rickety lawn chair while the neighbors watched through their windows was on my list of will nots, my throbbing pussy made arguing with his request impossible.
With slight reluctance, I turned around. With my eyes fixed on the neighbor’s porch, I slowly lowered myself into his lap. Long before my thighs came in contact with his, I felt the tip of his cock begin to penetrate me.
Dear God.
Bracing myself with quivering legs, I took every inch of him into me. Slowly. When I was finally resting on his lap, I let out a sigh of accomplishment.
“Holy cow. That felt good.”
He let out a laugh. “We’re not done.”
“I know. I was just saying. That was awesome.”
He leaned forward, kissed my neck, and then moved his mouth to my ear. “Ride. My. Cock.”
My eyes fell closed. I drew a breath and then nodded. “Okay.”
With the precision of a driveway sex guru, I bucked my hips at a methodical pace, taking him into me fully with each downward thrust.
His girth stretched me to a point of complete satisfaction, and his length reminded me of my limitations each time I overeagerly strove to force all of him inside of me.
I opened my eyes.
Two houses over, the neighbor peered out his window.
Yes, Mr. Kline, I’m fucking the man I love in the driveway.
And. It. Feels. Great.
I slowed my pace upon seeing him, and then decided it didn’t matter, and I didn’t care. Within seconds I was back into my rhythm, taking every inch of cock that Percy offered me.
I watched Mr. Kline curiously as he watched me. The excitement of it all began to fill me. My body began to tingle. I wanted to reach climax so bad, but I further wanted Percy to do the same.
I felt his arm against my right thigh. Then, his fingertip began circling my clit.
I bucked my hips wildly. He teased my swollen nub. Within seconds, I couldn’t take another second of it.
“Come,” I breathed. “With me.”
“You better hurry,” he whispered in a broken voice. “I’m about done. Your tight little pussy is killing me.”
It was all I needed to hear. With my eyes fixed on the nosy neighbor, I fucked Percy’s dick like I was mad at it. Six strokes of my hips later, and my back arched and my pace slowed.
“Fuck yes,” I whispered. “Fuck…Yes.”
His hands clenched my hips. His body shuddered,
And, he exploded into me.
The feeling of his coming inside of me was unlike anything else. It was sensual, indicative of love, and just plain hot.
As I relinquished control of my mind and body to my orgasm, my mouth opened wide. My jaw stretched tight, and my legs stiffened.
In a few seconds, my muscles relaxed.
I collapsed against his lap.
“Holy Cow. That. Was. Awesome.”
He kissed my neck. “You know when you get up, that cum is going to go everywhere, right?”
“You need to hose the driveway down anyway.”
“You’re probably right.”
I relaxed in his lap, his arms wrapped around me for the entire time. As I felt him become flaccid, I let out a sigh.
“You ready?” I asked.
“Whenever you are.”
He spread his knees apart.
I slid from his lap, cupping my right hand between my legs as I did so. “I’ll shuffle to the house now.”
He waved at Mr. Kline as he pulled up his jeans. “Be in in a minute.”
“Okay.”
“I love the dress,” he said. “You look beautiful in it.”
It was my first dress as an adult, and hopefully the start of a new trend for me. In addition to helping me overcome my self-esteem issues with my leg, they made me feel like a lady.
A beautiful lady.
I loved my new outlook on life, and on myself. I had Percy to thank for bringing me out of my shell, but I could never thank him enough. One thank you at a time, though, I’d sure try.
“Thank you,” I said.
“For what?”
“Everything.”
Chapter Forty-Six
P-Nut
He sat at a small table on the other side of the display case. His head was fitted with a lighted magnifying glass, and his face was buried in the object of his desire. I glared at his back in disbelief.
“I know there’s always a difference between a buying price and a selling price, but it sounds like you’re a little confused on a real market value. Do I need to get someone a little more knowledgeable?” I asked.
“I’m considered an expert in this region.”
“I like the way you paused when you gave me the price. Like you were fishing.”
He glanced over his shoulder and lifted the magnifying glass. “Fishing?”
“Tossing out a hopeful number. Lobbing a try in my direction. It’s like fishing. See the similarity?”
“I don’t.”
“It doesn’t surprise me. The number needs to have a four in front of it, and if it doesn’t, you and I are done talking.”
“$285,720,” he said flatly.
“I guess we’re done.”
He lowered the device to his eye, took one last look, and then glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll entertain a counter offer.”
“Not if I’m not giving one, you won’t. I was a child years ago. I haven’t got any desire to play childish games.”
br /> “$300,000 is not child’s play.”
“You didn’t say $300,000. You said $285,720. Maybe I should just stick around here and let you go up in $14,280 increments until you get to $400,000.” I cleared my throat. “Notice how I did that math in my head? I’m good with numbers. You’re not.”
“We’re too far apart on this,” he said.
“Fine. I’ll be on my way.”
He swiveled his chair to face me. After setting his spectacles aside, he sighed. “$350,000.”
“We’re making progress.”
He grinned. “I’ll have the bank print a check.”
“And what? Pay me the other $50,000 in cash?”
He let out a sigh. “I can’t go $400,000.”
“I can’t go $350,000.”
“We’re close,” he said. “Awfully close.”
“You’re $50,000 off. That’s a lot of money. Go buy a house and short ‘em fifty k. See how close they think you are.”
“How did you arrive at your number?” he asked. “I’d like to know.”
“I arrived at it by being knowledgeable in current market values. These things change daily. If you aren’t current on that specific card, you could be off a mile. You didn’t even look on the computer, or in a book.”
“I don’t need to.”
He was frustrating the fuck out of me. I looked off to the side, and saw what I assumed was his car on the other side of the storefront window.
“Is that your Austin-Healey?” I asked.
“It is.”
“A man drives something like that, it’s apparent he likes cars. Are you a collector?”
“I dabble.”
“You own several, right?”
“More than several.”
I gave a slow nod. “What’s the value of a 1988 308 Ferrari?”
He chuckled. “I have no idea.”
“You like cars, you’re a collector, and you have no idea what a 1988 308 is worth? How the fuck can that be?”
“There are far too many cars in this world to be privy to the price points of all of them.”
“Exactly. And there are more baseball cards on this earth than cars. That’s a 1952 Mickey Mantle #311. It’s a PSA 9. Look at the centering. It’s 47-53 front, and 50-50 rear. Measure the motherfucker. At an auction, it’d go for $550,000-$575,000. If I auction it, I’ll have to pay taxes. Taxes will get me to $400,000. Give me $400,000 for the son-of-a-bitch, or kindly hand it back to me.”
“Give me a moment,” he said.
He went into the back room for a few minutes, and then returned. “I’ll give $395,000.”
“That five bucks is going to kill you, huh?”
He shrugged. “It’s a matter of principle. I need to feel that I’m getting a bargain.”
“The $550,000 price you just saw on the internet didn’t make you feel that way?”
He grinned. “Do we have a deal?”
“You know what? Normally I’d walk over $5.00. Just like you, as a matter of principle. Today, I’ll let you get over on me for $5.00, but only if you’re paying in cash.”
He let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t keep cash like that in the store.”
“I didn’t figure you did. Give me the card, gather up the funds, and then we’ll meet up.”
“I’m not going to bring cash like that here. I’d need you to meet me at the bank, or at the police station.”
“Trust issues, huh? Yeah, I’ve got ‘em, too. Good luck getting me to go to a police station. I’ll meet you at the bank. How much time do you need?”
He looked at his watch. “Will noon work? We can meet here. My bank is around the corner.”
“Noon will work fine.”
“What shall we do with the Mantle #311?” he asked.
“We aren’t going to do a damned thing with it. I’m going to take it with me.”
His face distorted. “On the motorcycle?”
I held out my hand. “Same way it got here.”
“You feel safe with a half-a-million-dollar card on that?”
“Safer than in a cage.”
With obvious reluctance, he handed me the card. “I’ll see you at noon?”
“The two of us,” I said. “My buddy and me.”
“Buddy?”
Ridding myself of my Mickey Mantle #311 was like pushing a family member off a cliff. I knew I’d never see him again. I’d never have the pleasure of dusting off the case, measuring the edges of the card, admiring the lack of fraying on the corners, or comparing it to the many for sale on the internet, knowing mine was better.
It wasn’t an easy thing to do, but it was necessary.
The cause was well worth it.
My father would be proud.
“Yeah, I said. Me and my buddy Mickey. Mickey Mantle.”
He grinned and handed me the card. “I’ll look forward to seeing the two of you at noon.”
I looked at the velour cloth. Four examples were displayed, all facing me. The fluorescent lighting over the case did wonders for improving clarity and magnifying beauty, but it wasn’t enough.
I pointed at the cloth and wagged my index finger from left to right. “No, no, no, and no.”
She looked at me and blinked a few times. “Is there a problem?”
“Quality. I don’t want what everyone else has. I want something different. You know when you buy a shirt, and then you see someone else wearing the exact same thing? Imagine that in this circumstance. It’d make you sick, wouldn’t it?”
Her eyebrows raised. “Possibly.”
“I want something that no one else has, or can have. I want something that’d make everyone say, damn, I wish I could have one of those, but I know I can’t.”
She grinned a shallow grin. “I’m afraid you’re in the wrong place. You might try David and Sons on La Jolla Village Dive.”
“Know the address?”
“It’s in the 4000 block.”
“Appreciate your help.”
I rode to the location, circled the buildings, and found the shop. After parking the bike, I pulled my backpack from the saddlebag and walked inside.
The man behind the counter looked at the backpack, and then at me. “How can I help you?”
“Rumor has it that you specialize in products that aren’t like everyone else’s.”
He was in his mid-forties, had a shaved head, and was wearing a navy suit. He brushed his hands along the thighs of his slacks and then clasped his hands together. “I’d say that’s an accurate statement.” He craned his neck to the side and peered toward the parking lot. “Is that a Heritage Softy?”
I nodded. “Sure is.”
“An Evo, isn’t it?”
If he could spot an Evo engine from his vantage point, he was pretty knowledgeable about Harleys.
“You ride?”
“Collect. Ride. Get threatened with divorce. Sell a few. Buy a few more and sneak them in the garage. When she notices them, I sell one of them, and keep the other.” He extended his hand. “I’m David.”
“Percy.” I shook his hand. “Which one’s your favorite?”
“I like looking at my old ’52 Pan. I like riding the Road King.”
“The ‘King’s a good sled.”
He nodded toward my bike. “Are the bars comfortable?”
“More than any other bar out there. Everyone thinks apes are uncomfortable, but they’re not. Try a set, you’ll love ‘em.”
“I’ll do that,” he said. “Now, in response to your earlier statement, we do specialize in making a bold statement at an affordable price. We’re a specialty shop, but we’re family owned, and we’re small. We don’t have to feed a corporate machine, we only have to feed ourselves.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“What are you looking for, specifically?”
“Not sure.”
“Engagement?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Not exactly. I want her to know I’m committed to her. I don’t want to
scare her off with an engagement ring. Just something that’ll make sure she knows I’m in it for the long haul.”
He nodded. “Very well. Have you got a price point you’d like to be under?”
“Let’s just say I’ve got a lot of money, and you don’t know what the definition of a lot is. I want quality, and it needs to be unique. And, don’t get any wise ideas about snatching my backpack, either. I’m quite a bit meaner than I look.”
He coughed out a laugh. “If you’d like to follow me into the back, we can lock that in the safe while you’re shopping. Regardless of your definition of a lot, I’d hate for someone to attempt to relieve you of it while you’re here.”
I considered his offer. After a moment of weighing the possibilities of what if, I agreed. After securing the money in the safe, we returned to the front of the store.
“Do you have a preference on the shape of the stone?”
“Round.”
“Not a conventional solitaire?”
I shook my head. “Looks too much like an engagement ring.”
“Give me a few minutes, will you?”
“Sure.”
He returned in no time. “I’ve got a few I think you might like.”
He spread a cloth on top of the case, and then placed six rings on top of it. The differences in the eye appeal was immeasurable, but the difference in the sizes of the diamonds was drastic. He was obviously offering rings in several price points.
One stood out as being exactly what I had in mind.
“The one on the left. What do you call it?”
“That style is called a halo. It’s a round center stone that is surrounded by stones. It’s a custom piece, built by the one and only Master Jeweler Thomas. There’s not another like it.”
I nodded toward it. “May I?”
“Absolutely.”
I picked it up and held it under the light. It sparkled from what seemed like thousands of facets at the same time. “Damn, this thing sparkles.”
“It’s a Round Brilliant stone, and an Ideal cut. All Ideals are Round Brilliants, but only the best Round Brilliants are Ideals. It’s a remarkable stone.”
“Is it the best you’ve got?”
“It’s the best money can buy. There’s no finer cut. It’s also a colorless stone, and the clarity is VVS-1.”
The ring had a large center stone, and it was surrounded by two rows of smaller stones. The stones that surrounded it tapered toward the center of each side of the ring.