Gina Scratches the Itch

"We'd like to be seated in Kyle's section," I said to the hostess, an empty-headed slut I vaguely remembered graduating a few years ago. She blinked at me, thoroughly confused and shocked that I would request a waiter.

"That's umm, Kyle M or Kyle W?"

This was an unexpected wrinkle, but I didn't falter. "The tall one, with the glasses."

"Kyle W. Right this way, Mrs Torrey."

"Thanks, Vicki," I said, hoping I'd remembered her name properly. Clearly, she'd had me in class at one point. So there we were, sipping at the mimosas Vicki had brought as the nervous young Kyle approached.

"Oh!" he said, breaking into a sweetly tentative smile when he caught sight of me. "Um, good afternoon, ladies." I watched as he nervously tried to comprehend Shannon's very attractive bust, expertly displayed by a hot-pink spandex confection. She just grinned at him; she knew why she was here now. "What can I get you?"

"I'll have the fruit platter," I announced primly, "and a coffee. Do you guys still get your coffees from next door on Sundays?" Zimbardo's neighbor was Seaborne Books and Tea, and the two places teamed up on weekends.

"Sure do, ma'am."

I smiled. I knew he remembered my name. That meant he was either being professional, or trying to be surreptitious. Attractive either way. "Caffe Zaragoza, then." I made sure I let him see my dimples as my eyes dropped down to his pants.

"Eggs Benedict. Caffe Mediterraneo." Shannon was, as usual, efficient. "Thanks, honey."

"No problem, ladies." Kyle's smile was a lot more confident as he crept away, and I knew he'd recovered. He'd be fine now, and I knew he and I could effectively flirt all through the meal. I had several double-entendres ready, each of them perfect for a waiter/customer situation. Shannon looked at me in frank disgust.

"I see you found your rebound, Gina," she said, an eyebrow shooting toward her immaculate wavy hairline. "What is he, fourteen?"

"Nineteen, Shan, and you're a fine one to talk." I was watching Kyle's ass as he moved away. "You're the one still having quickies with your student. Such a tender youth..."

She flushed slightly. "Just until Leon's better," she said defensively. She took another sip. "And for the record, it's mostly been oral lately. I'm trying to teach Dylan how to go down."

"Ah. He's a very good student," I said approvingly; Shannon Boyle took her duties as a teacher seriously. "It's nice that you're giving him an important life lesson."

"Hell yes," she replied with quiet satisfaction. Hmm. It must be going well, then. "Why'd you stop seeing him? He didn't say anything about that."

"You know I'm uncomfortable with the big boys," I murmured. The lovely Kyle was coming back with our coffees. "I thought I'd try something in a subcompact."

She giggled. "You've got a hunch about our waiter or something?"

"Oh, more than a hunch Shan," I grinned, looking up as Kyle arrived. "Have you brought me what I need, Kyle?" I asked innocently.

He grinned. He was definitely getting into the spirit of this now. "Yes ma'am. Fresh from the B&T, ladies." He set our coffees down with a flourish; I snuck a glance downward to see whether he was getting hard in the tight black pants.

My. Oh my.

"Kyle," I said urgently, sliding my coffee aside, "do you have a break coming up anytime soon, honey?" He blinked at me. So did Shannon, but I didn't have time for her now. I smiled craftily. "It's just that I need to take a little bathroom break, and I wanted to make sure I didn't, uh, miss you." I winked very theatrically using the eye away from Shannon, and I watched as it took effect on the poor boy. "You know, when you come to feed us."

"Um, well, you know where the restrooms are, ma'am." His eyes were saucer-wide, unable to believe any of this. Shannon looked incredulously from me to him.

"Of course," I purred, getting up. "I'll be back in a jiffy, Shannon. Don't go stealing my coffee now." She was gaping at me, but she surely knew the score. The tables weren't so close together that they necessitated me brushing my hip against Kyle's as I snaked past, but I did it anyway. I felt him flinch. "Sorry, Kyle," I simpered, moving to the employee bathroom with a regal strut. Once there, I left the door unlocked and took a quick glance in the mirror to make sure my yoga top was showing as much tit as it could. Then, taking a deep breath, I leaned my hard body against the sink, bit my lower lip, and waited.

Kyle wasn't long. He jiggled the doorknob not fifteen seconds after I'd entered, poking a hopeful face briefly inside before practically leaping in and closing the door. He locked it this time, as I didn't fail to notice. "So Kyle," I began immediately, taking the offensive, "I wanted to apologize for last time. When I walked in on you."

"Oh, that's not necessary, Gina." His cheeks went pink as he used my name, the poor cute little man-child. "I should have locked the door."

"It's just that I felt bad," I went on, as if he hadn't spoken. I pushed off from the sink and began mincing slowly toward him as he retreated back to the locked door. "It occurred to me that you probably felt cheated because I had my son with me."

"What?" He blinked. I could see his dick getting harder; it had to be terribly uncomfortable in those pants. His eyes fluttered helplessly up and down my little body, so clearly visible in the spandex; I knew I'd be showing camel toe and, by now, a hard little pair of nipples. I never wore a bra to yoga.

"Oh, don't be shy," I cooed, finally getting within arm's reach. I lifted a lazy finger to run over his shirt. "Do I have to spell it out for you? Me on my knees, you with your cock waving around... My son's shitty diaper cheated you out of a good time, I think. A great story for all your friends, sitting around playing video games in Hightower." I grinned, my finger sliding down like an afterthought to run over his cock. This was so easy. I had the itch, that was for sure. I tickled his balls through the trousers, then came back up to take his zipper down. That adam's apple was bobbing like a cork, and my pussy was starting to stink.

"Gina, I..." He shut his mouth as my finger hit his lips.

"Don't bother talking, sweetie. You're not here for conversation." My hand slipped though his fly as I stepped in and used my other hand to bring his head down to mine. I'm not into kissing at all, but I figured he would be. So I laid it on thick, my tongue twisting around his teeth and lapping at the roof of his mouth.

That cock of his was hot and moist in my hand, stiffening nicely even through the white briefs he wore. I heard and felt him give a desperate grunt, and I ended the kiss with a lingering trace of my tongue over his chin. "Let's see what kind of fruit platter I'm getting," I whispered, burrowing down through the top of his underwear and using my other hand to jam his tight pants down over his ass.

Oh, but my cunt was itching today; I was already panting for it. My plan was set: I'd kneel and let him take me doggy on the filthy floor. It would be nasty, sweaty, and altogether disgusting. I'd allow him to fuck me, and then degrade me by cumming all over my ass. I moaned into his mouth as his clothes flopped down around his knees.

Smiling devilishly, I took a step back and looked down at my prize. Kyle was completely out of his mind, his cock already drooling. But the smile froze on my face as my eyes told me what my hand had not as it groped him, all curled in his briefs.

This boy was even longer than Dylan.

Just my luck. I knew this had been too easy. That porn-star cock flopped obscenely over his skinny legs, long and thick and dark, twitching with his pulse. My heart sank. No way could that needy little cunt of mine take that monster, at least not without hours of foreplay. Hours that I didn't have right now: it was rude to leave Shannon alone.

Still, it wouldn't do to make poor Kyle self-conscious; I always tried to be nice to my men, especially the younger ones. I quickly decided on a plan B, and looked at him with white-hot lust as I slipped to my knees, straight-backed. "How about if I give you my tip right now?" I flirted, frantically generating saliva. "Or rather, let you give me your tip." I giggled at my own pun, my eyes fixed on that massive tool. God, he'd be right up Shannon Boyle's alley.

He was grinning now, just a little bit swaggy; nothing helps a young man's confidence like imminent head from an unfamiliar, beautiful bitch. He inched toward me, that fleshy log bobbing impossibly large toward my waiting mouth. "Kyle," I asked suddenly, "how many women have seen this thing?" My hands rose automatically to their favorite positions, left hand around the shaft with my right hand on the ballsack. He smelled like long kitchen workdays in poorly-laundered pants, but I didn't care.

"Oh, I don't know." I cast a skeptical eye up to see whether he was lying. A boy as timid as he would know precisely how many bitches he'd nailed, unless he was trying to make something up. "Four? Five?"

I grinned, knowing the answer was zero. He'd still be a virgin after today, poor boy, but at least I'd give him a nice intro. It was always thrilling to be any guy's first, and I hadn't had felt that in awhile. His dick was hard and slippery in my hand, like velvet around a propeller shaft. Those balls were as huge as I'd glimpsed last night; shit. If I'd been thinking then, I'd have predicted this sad turn of affairs.

I'd have to hurry; Kyle would get fired if I kept him back here too long, and I wanted my coffee. On the plus side, he was a gawky nineteen-year-old virgin; he'd be no match for my experienced mouth. I calculated this would take two minutes from first contact with my tonsils. Two and a half, absolute max.

So I went at him like a Rottweiler on a bank robber, not even tasting him as I stuffed him down into my throat. From the start, I used all my most whorish tricks: the lad knew already he wasn't dealing with a sexual amateur, but if I was the first woman to inhale that cock I wanted him to dream about me for decades. My hands went around to his ass like a pair of slap watches, long nails probing at his rectum, me gagging and choking like a world champion hot-dog eater as I took him impossibly deep. Ah! There was that elusive saliva, flooding out to submerge his cock like a nuclear fucking submarine.

His fingers found my hair, clutching hard at my scalp. I could feel his nicely shaped glutes tightening under my palms as he thrust, gasping loudly enough to be heard in Scotland. Shannon had once told me an amusing anecdote about some dude at a conference who'd jammed his meat so deep into her throat that his sperm had gone shooting out her nose, and of course I had no intention of doing that. I felt my throat contract around his shaft once more, then twice, before I tightened my lips and backed off to work that dick like a frenzied bobble-head doll. My spit was flying everywhere; I scooted my knees back to keep from getting my lycra top salivated on.

He was moaning now, the smell of his pubes filling my nostrils, and I knew he was about to blow. That young cock was jumping in my mouth; I could see, out of the corners of my eyes, his balls flattening out down below. I clung grimly on, having not once spit him out, and I wondered absently if he'd be enough of a gentleman to warn me.

He wasn't, as it turned out.

Not that I had any problems, of course; he wasn't my shortest, either in length or duration. There are lots of times when I don't swallow, like when the guy seems to want to see me with his cum all over my body or when I'm feeling just plain nasty, but of course that was out of the question now. I still had to sit at a table and eat my breakfast, so clearly I wasn't going to tolerate a fat load on my workout clothes. So I got myself set, gave a few more quick bobs, and then it was showtime.

He was young and inexperienced, and although he'd probably whacked it last night thinking about me walking into his piss break, I reckoned any teenage virgin would probably produce copious amounts of sperm, like enough to affect my daily calorie count. But that couldn't be helped. I was proud of my sexual skills, so I was determined not to waste a drop.

I held him close, both hands digging into those asscheeks, and started swallowing before I even needed to; when he came, there was no time wasted puffing out my cheeks and holding that shit while I started getting it down. No, his sperm shot just about straight into my gullet, working its way toward my stomach like a heartburn medication; it was thick enough that I could feel it go all the way down. It tasted pretty ordinary, just a hint of salt and that rich additive of body odor so common with younger lovers. I actually enjoyed it.

He was good for the expected four spurts, plus a couple extra smaller ones; I kept him firmly wedged into my mouth until I was certain he was done. I heard him gasping melodramatically above, which was off-putting; it would give Shannon something to work on, for by now I fully intended to give him a referral. That, plus the lack of warning before he came; that showed disrespect for his elders, which was unacceptable. She'd take care of that, too.

"Guh," he said unimaginatively; I stared up into his eyes. "Sorry it, like, didn't last longer."

Oh! So cute! He'd clearly watched too many pornos. I laughed around his dick. "Kyle, sweetie," I said at last, spitting him out, "that's fine. There are times to go short, and times to go long; this wasn't the time to go long." I reached around and gave him an affectionate spank. "Do you have your phone, honey?"

"Uh, sure." He pulled it out, and I nodded pleasantly while I busied myself in his contact list. "Are you giving me your number?" he gasped, unable to believe his luck as he tried vainly to tuck that monster away. Aw, poor boy; I'd have to break my second heart in the past few days.

"No, Kyle," I said gently. "But I'm giving you my friend's number. Shannon, the one sitting out there with me; doesn't she have a slammin' body? Outstanding breasts, hon; I think you and she would be a good match." I went way up on tiptoes to whisper in his ear. "She likes 'em nice and long, you see, and her boyfriend's on the thirty-day disabled list right now. She'd be glad to meet you." I gave him a soft kiss on the cheek; my pussy was still flailing down there, but that wasn't his fault. "I hope you enjoyed me, Kyle."

"Um." Shit. He was about to ask if he could see me again. Fucking unbelievable, the lack of perception in the males around me. I headed him off.

"Get your ass out there, now. I'm betting Shannon's eggs are ready, and trust me: you want to be on her good side." I flashed him a radiant smile, then glanced sideways in the mirror to make sure my lips were safely cum-free. "Take care, Kyle. Good luck." I was out the door with my usual brisk speed, steering myself back among the tables with that slight sour fullness in my stomach that told me the fruit platter would get picked at, nothing more.

"I hope that was a shit you were taking," Shannon muttered as I took my seat.

I smiled at her and let her see my tongue moving around my mouth, swabbing out the corners. "I was certainly taking something," I purred. "Got my USDA recommended allowance of protein, I'd say. Our waiter might be slightly delayed."

"Holy shit, girl!"

"Shan, can I be blunt?" I reached blindly out for my coffee, now cooled enough that I could chug it as a nice cum chaser. "You and Dylan are a bad idea. We've both made mistakes with him, but he's your student, and that's gross."

"I know," she bleated. "It's just..." She looked down, straight at her cunt. Poor bitch had always had bad self-control; I sympathized, but tough love was called for here.

"No. No more, Shan. He'll be fine; he was great when I kicked him to the curb. You know he's been giving it to Shelly Nason this whole time, right?" She didn't, nor did I; it was a usefully plausible guess, though. Shelly was the biggest pot buyer in the junior class, and I knew Dylan had been selling. The lie would make perfect sense to Shannon, and now all she'd be thinking about was Dylan's splendid dick plunging into Shelly's skanky slit. I could see her recoil.

"It's time, Shannon. Oh, and I gave the waiter your digits. He's exactly your type," I went casually on, draining my coffee. Kyle chose that moment to hustle over with our food, red-faced, gazing with hopeful worship at Shannon's boobs. She looked back and forth from Kyle to me, her mouth open in shock; I just smiled.

* * *

"I think I might stop going to that yoga place," I confessed as we walked back to her car. I was feeling better now, my stomach settling and whatever conscience I possessed sated by the 40% tip I'd left Kyle. He and Shannon had even been exchanging tender glances by the end of the meal; I felt like that matchmaker bitch from Fiddler on the Roof.

"What's the matter? Finally giving up on Montoya?" I rolled my eyes; I'd been trying to get our yoga instructor to notice me for months; despite his advanced age and his unfortunate facial hair, Montoya looked as if he could fuck like a cyclone. He'd paid me no notice, though, so I'd long since decided he was gay. Only conceivable explanation.

'Montoya's fine. It's not him. It's that fucking wench by the door. Third row, over on the end?" Shannon squinted. "The firecrotch with two names?"

"Ah. Oh, yes. I know who you're talking about." We got to her ratty Nissan, which always seemed to smell like fitness. God knew I worked hard at yoga, and at the occasional 5k, but the running was about showing off my body and the yoga was about being a good lay. Shannon, though, was a fucking workout machine. "I don't like her."

"She talked to me after class last Wednesday." I dragged the seatbelt across. "You know she's a fucking lawyer?" I hated lawyers; my father had been a lawyer. "It's the two names that does it for me, though. How pretentious do you have to be to hyphenate your last name?"

"You're telling me." She made a face as she scraped a chive off her front tooth. "I never trust pretentious lawyers with extra names."

"I mean, that's only the root of my animosity." I was just getting warmed up. It bothered me that the woman in question, who went by the overlettered name of Meaghan (why? God, why? Megan works fine!), spent five hours a week doing yoga and refused to improve after months of faithful attendance at Montoya's classes. It bothered me that she had two last names. It bothered me that she had tits, but refused to do anything with them.

Last of all, Wednesday's revelation bothered me. For fuck's sake, I can't even tell why she'd come and talked to me after class; it's not like I'd ever shot her any other kind of glance except a hostile one, but that day she'd shown up late (it bothered me that she wasn't punctual, too) and laid her bag down on the bench next to mine.

"Hi," she said brightly. "Meaghan." She stuck her hand out with what I'm sure she thought was a warm smile.

"I'm Gina." I was immediately on the attack, like the feral fucking lynx I was. "Having trouble with the Boat Pose today, I couldn't help but notice." I eyed her as I smiled my fakest smile. That straight, spaghetti-like red hair fell halfway down her back, looking like it had never once given her a single problem with split ends.

I guess Meaghan was a fairly attractive piece, in a way, but there were fatal flaws. Along with that ginger shit came the usual combo of waxy-ass skin and pale, insipid eyes. Prominent orange freckles scattered like twin shotgun blasts across both cheeks. Her tits offended me; they were fine and looked as though they'd be a nice handful, but she let them hang limp like a pair of sandbags. Goddamn! It blew me away that a woman with so much titflesh could disrespect her boobs that much. I hated that, with the true and incandescently passionate hatred of a woman with no chest.