What Not to Wear

Big Tits

I felt like a damn chauffeur. That’s the fate of a mom with a 13-year-old daughter, and a very social one at that. After dropping Rachael off at her best friend’s house for a sleepover, I decided to drop into the local Subway for a six-inch sub. For a second I considered the convenience of the drive-through at Burger King – but a tuna sub was just too tempting. It meant that I would have to get out of the car at a time when I wasn’t exactly presentable.

Having worked in the garden half the day, I took a long hot shower and then slipped into my bedclothes … a lime camisole and some gray athletic shorts. OK, not that it looked like pajamas. Perhaps the attire was a sort of a last ditch effort on my part to feel attractive. At 45, the body was showing signs of aging. But the shorts showed off the long, slender legs on my tall frame. And the tight cami made my chest appear quite appealing. Admittedly, I had some respectable cleavage. The camisole claimed to have a built in bra; in reality it was just another piece of fabric in the bra area. Clearly this wasn’t the kind of clothing I would wear around town, but it made me feel attractive in the safety of my home.

I could rationalize slipping into Subway for a few minutes, particularly when evening was starting to descend.

When I arrived at the parking lot, I noticed that Subway was practically vacant. The only customers in the store were three high school girls, huddled up in a booth. The guy behind the counter also appeared to be about the same age; he appeared a bit bookish. I could handle that.

Without a line, I immediately began to place my order. Preoccupied, I neglected to notice that the door had been opened and that there was another customer behind me. I was taken off-guard completely when a familiar voice behind me asked, “Harris?”

I knew that voice very well. Turning around and smiling shyly, I replied, “Donovan … how are you?”

“Harris” … “Donovan” … we tended to use each other’s last names more often than not. That was not to imply that our relationship was the slightest bit formal. To the contrary, actually. Use of the last names was a sign of affection.

Tom Donovan and I are both accountants working for the same property management company, but in different parts of town. I actually don’t remember much about our first meeting. In a sea of property managers at a cocktail party, I was happy to meet another bean counter. I remember quizzing him on depreciation, of all things. I mentioned that I had designed a spreadsheet that might be helpful. He seemed interested, so we exchanged business cards. It’s not like there was an instant attraction; had it not been for the spreadsheet we would likely have forgotten about each other.

The following Monday I emailed him. He politely thanked me for the attachment. A few weeks later, I received an email from Tom, this time an audit question. After a few exchanges on the topic, we started to discuss our personal lives. Slowly, a friendship emerged. Rarely does a day go by these days when we don’t exchange an email or chat on the phone. We tend to get off topic … sometimes exchanging emails over a period of several hours. We’ve learned to trust each other with many confidences. Since the cocktail party we’d met perhaps a half-dozen times, all under the name of business. Our relationship was perhaps the most intimate I’ve had in my life, and yet it was strictly platonic.

Tom and I are both in committed relationships, although neither of us happy with our current arrangement. I’m married to man who has become focused – no, “obsessed” – with his career. It’s not that I don’t appreciate our 4,200 square foot house and the late model cars. What Mitchell doesn’t understand is that I would live in a shack if only he would talk to me like he did when we were first married. But his values have changed. Mitchell says he’ll give me my walking papers, and I thought about it. But until Rachael is out of high school, I think it would be best to stay together and pretend to have a normal family life.

As for Tom, he had been dating a girl who he claimed was largely “vacant”; batıkent escort he claimed they were on the verge of breaking up. Tom is quite a bit younger that I am. OK, he’s 8 years, 4 months, and 6 days younger. He’s 36 years old. Christ, what am I thinking?

And yet, I found myself inexplicably drawn to him. He’s charming, but in a way that’s more sincere than smarmy. Tom always seems to have a positive outlook – and keeps me laughing. The more I got to know Tom on the inside, the more I grew to appreciate the Tom on the outside. At first I thought he was a bit overweight, but now I see a man who’s husky, but in a muscular way. And initially I overlooked his stunning sapphire eyes that light up mischievously when he smiles. And this may sound silly, but I like the way his forehead furrows when he’s deep in thought.

And now, I happened to run into Tom in a non-work environment … not dressed up in formal wear at the country club restaurant, as I had fantasized, but rather in a brightly lit sub shop, looking like a teenager wannabe.

“Dressed a bit casually?” Tom commented, checking me out.

“If I knew I’d be bumping into you, I would have worn goth,” I joked. “It’s a good thing you don’t have a camera. These sandals alone could get me nominated for “What Not to Wear.”

Tom reached into his pocket, pulling out his cell phone. “Who says I don’t have a camera?” he said with a smile. He opened the phone and showed me the lens of a camera.

“Donovan … you wouldn’t dare!” From across the counter, the attendant asked, “What would you like on your tuna sub, ma’am?” A teenage girl emerged from the back and started assisting Tom.

Once I made it to the cash register, Tom implored, “Wait up for me, will ya?” I smiled shyly and waited for him off to the side. “If you have a few minutes,” Tom continued, “why don’t we eat together?”

It didn’t take much to talk me into that. Despite my cool exterior, I seize every opportunity to chat with Tom.

“Sure,” I replied, “What’s say we sit at those picnic tables outside?”

Tom agreed, much to my relief. Although I wasn’t entirely disappointed that Tom got to see me dressed “unprofessionally,” I would feel better in a darker area, where the signs of my aging body might not be as evident. As it turns out, the light by the picnic tables was burnt out. The last bit of sunlight was fading fast, but our eyes quickly acclimated. I found myself eating very slowly, only to make our time linger. At one point I had noticed the stars appearing in the night sky. “Look, Orion’s belt”, I said, pointing practically overhead. My eyes remained fixed on the sky for a few seconds, trying to make out other constellations. When I looked back, I had noticed that Tom’s eyes were planted firmly on my chest. When he realized that I was looking in his direction, he quickly focused on my face and smiled.I do believe that I caught the gentleman leering at me, I thought to myself.Perhaps, I considered,Mr. Donovan was secretly attracted to me – as I was to him. Suddenly, I felt a tingling sensation in my crotch.

“I should be getting back,” I blurted out, a bit afraid of what I was feeling.

“What about the pictures?” Tom asked with a sly smile.

I was quite perplexed until he pulled out his cell phone. “You didn’t …” I stammered. After a few clicks, Tom pointed the display at me. “Not my sandals! Tom, you are so evil,” I protested with a smile. I realized that Tom had taken the pictures of me while our sandwiches were being built.

Tom continued, “Well look at THIS shot. Debbie, you’ve been hiding away some fine-looking ta-tas.” He flashed the phone towards me, and there, for all to see, was the scooping neckline on my cami exposing the tops of those 34Ds. My nipples, while not exposed, were visibly extended.

“Tom, seriously, please delete that,” I implored.

“Whoa! And take a look at those long legs,” he continued.

I snapped his cell shut and tried to take it from him, but Tom clearly had control of the phone. I stood up, reached over, grabbed his wrists and edged closer to Tom, almost whispering. beşevler escort “Please …”

“Are you begging, Debbie?”

For perhaps the first time, I felt uncomfortable around Tom. Normally I would counter with a witty remark, but the words weren’t coming to me. In a voice as quiet as mine, Tom replied, “OK. I’ll delete the pictures, but there’s something that I want in return.”

I let go of Tom’s wrists, relieved yet perplexed. I backed up, but Tom moved right back into my space. Still in hushed tones Tom continued, “I’d like a kiss.”

His request took me by surprise. Still tongue tied, I stepped back and looked away. I felt my face grow red. Tom continued, “Debbie, c’mon. All these months … the emails, the phone calls. I’d say that was some serious flirtation going on between us.” He paused and continued, “Haven’t you ever wondered if there might be chemistry?” There was another awkward silence as Tom waited for a reply that didn’t come. I looked back into his face. His blue eyes seemed to be pleading.

It’s funny how I had been waiting for this moment to arrive … this admission of attraction. And yet the words were escaping me. Shaking a bit, I leaned in towards Tom and ever so gently pressed my lips against his, just barely touching him. His mouth opened slightly, and then he started tenderly biting on my lower lip, pulling it towards him. Immediately, I was aroused. Very aroused … hadn’t felt that way in years. I pulled back from Tom. In sincere awe, I said, “Wow. Goosebumps,” showing him my bare arms.

Tom smiled sweetly and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I can’t say that I have goosebumps,” he admitted, “But you have made an impression.” As he pulled me close, I felt the hardness in his pants. Tom pressed his lips against mine again, once again very tenderly … as if a feather was touching me. His hands slowly moved toward my chest. Through the fabric, he cupped his hands over my breast. My nipples snapped to attention. He fingered them for a minute and then gave them a gentle squeeze. Any inhibitions that existed a minute earlier were gone. I let out a little gasp, which seemed to please him.

Tom used his pursed lips to tug at my ear lobe. “Mmmm,” I moaned. He had honed in on the area of my body that was easiest aroused. He continued to pull at my ears with his lips; as he did, I could hear my breathing getting faster. I was amazed that he seemed to know, instinctively, what I needed.

My hands moved down to his khakis. I pressed my palm against his crotch, pleased that I could make him rock hard. “Nice,” I murmured. I unzipped his fly and my hands entered his pants. I loved the smooth touch of his cock. I felt myself getting wet, desperately wanting that snake inside me. As much as I was enjoying the way he was kissing my ear, I broke away after a minute. I lowered myself and placed his cock inside my mouth. Both of my hands worked the lower part of his dick. Suddenly, I wasn’t the only one breathing heavily. His cock grew bigger, and the throbbing became intense. I pulled out for second, and then the tip of my tongue flicked the head of his hard shaft. Tom squirmed, and I tasted a bit of his pre-cum. I placed my mouth over the upper third of his cock and started sucking with vigor. Tom started moaning, touching my hair and pulling my head towards him.

It then occurred to me … we were outside, for Christ’s sake. Sure, we were alone now. But if a car pulled up we would be caught.What if it was someone I knew? I considered. By nature I’m a very modest person. For a split second I considered backing off, but I couldn’t. I went down deeper on Tom, feeling his pulsing cock push up against the back of my throat. My hands grabbed his balls and I lightly tugged them in a downward motion.

Coming up for a breath, I admitted, “Donovan … I want yousobad. Fuck me.” As the words escaped my mouth, I was certain that I had overstepped. This was a totally different Debbie than he knew. Actually, a different Debbie than I knew.Was that voice mine?I wondered.

A smile spread on his face slowly. He pushed me back against ankara escort the table. With one hand, he pulled my stretchy shorts to one side. With the other hand he placed his hard cock on my pussy. He thrust his hips towards me, not entering, but just teasing. Then he wrapped his arms around me tightly. I wanted him so much. I lifted my toes, his shaft sliding on the wetness of my labia. Slowly, I lowered myself a bit, effectively stroking his member with my pussy. I reached down and held his hard cock in my hand. Feeling my juices on his cock, the strokes continued with my hand. I positioned his head over my vagina, and slowly leaned into him. I immediately started moaning. Tom suddenly thrust his hips at me, going in deeper. I gasped with each thrust. As Tom’s member throbbed in me, my rapid breathing quickly turned into moans. I hadn’t ever recalled being aroused so quickly.

“Oh my God, Tom, I’m starting to cum already.” I felt as if I couldn’t control myself … developed that tell-tale rhythmic throb, gasped for air as a tingling sensation shot out from my pussy – seeming to extend to my extremities. Even without my verbal cue, Tom knew what was happening. I felt him stiffen, felt the warmth of his load being hot shot deep within me. Tom let out an audible moan himself.

Tom didn’t pull himself out right away. He pressed his torso against mine and kissed me again. I slipped my tongue in his mouth quickly, and then kissed the outside of his mouth. In silence, his fingers weaved in my hair. It was the most tender moment I ever experienced. Less than a minute later, when a car pulled up into the adjoining lot, it hit me … the risks we had taken. Tom and I broke our embrace and adjusted our clothes. I heard two car doors open and slam shut, some muffled voices, and footsteps towards the sub shop.

Already I missed Tom’s touch. I leaned in closer towards Tom and sweetly smiled. “You were … fucking amazing.” My smile was returned.

Tom pulled out his cell phone. I had forgotten about the pictures, but was glad that he was deleting them, citing, “I’m a gentleman of my word.” After a few seconds, he had erased my pictures. He pointed the display in my direction, said, “All gone.” His most recent picture was now that of a golden retriever with a Frisbee in his mouth.

“Is that Beau?” I asked. I had heard about his dog, but never seen it.

“Yeah, that’s Beau … at Lake Mary.”

“He looks so sweet. I’m a sucker for big, floppy ears. What else have you got here?” I asked. Although Tom and I talked quite about the people in his life, I had yet to see pictures.

“Here’s my brother Phil and his wife Randi …”

“From your trip last month. I remember. I can see the family resemblance. He’s a year younger, right?”

“Yep. Oh, and here are my parents – with Sage.” Sage was his girlfriend. I thought I’d be jealous, as she was so much younger. Admittedly, she was quite stunning – petite – with long black hair and round eyes. But I could sense the bitchiness. She was heavily made-up, looking sultry and pouty.

“So, that’s Sage.”

“Yeah. She was actually quite cold to the folks. I’m surprised that I managed to get them in the same zip code.”

“What else have you got?” I asked, noticing one more picture in his camera.

“Nothing, really …”

I could tell by Tom’s voice that he was into some major denial.

“Nothing?” I reached for the phone, which made Tom a bit nervous. I pressed the button for the next picture, and was taken aback by what I saw. It was a picture of me. He apparently must have taken it a few months ago when he visited my office.

I didn’t say a word, but looked quizzically at Tom. “OK, I have a bit of a confession,” he started softly as he looked towards the ground. “I’ve been infatuated with you, almost right from the start. I hope this doesn’t freak you out … I wasn’t stalking or anything …”

“Would it make you feel any better if I told you that I’ve had a school girl crush on you all along?” I asked.

Tom’s lifted his face and gave me that sly smile. He kissed my forehead – and then embraced me. We remained close for a few minutes. Eventually, I backed off, saying, “I’ve really got to get home.”


Tom walked with me to my car in silence. We kissed on the lips once more.

“Well talk again Monday,” he said.

“Monday,” I repeated back, savoring his wetness in my crotch.