Sandwich Girl

My eyes opened. Not my ceiling; not my house. It was morning; my head was pounding. Where was I? Oh yeah, I went home with the girls from the sandwich shop. Several shots of Jagermeister. What the hell was I thinking? I'm fifty-two, I can't keep up with twenty-somethings. My mind began to recall the events of several hours prior, as one of the two young women that brought me here stepped past the living room sofa where I had crashed.

"Morning Art," Marisol said with a smirk, "You look like shit." The curvaceous, wet-haired, Hispanic-descended woman tightened her fluffy pink bathrobe against her braless tits, a view which was a bonus treat. Since becoming a regular customer of the cafe, I had wondered what form those healthy breasts, usually obscured by a canvas uniform apron, would assume when set free. They were apparently natural, although I was quickly learning to redefine my understanding of what was 'natural' and 'real'.

"Thank you," I replied to her 'look like shit' comment. My voice didn't sound like mine and the echo in my head made it hurt worse.

Marisol just laughed at me quietly, then headed for her small kitchen. Time for me to go home and sleep the rest of the day. Luckily I was off work, and I was sure my new acquaintances had things to do and wanted me gone.

Still completely dressed except for an unfastened fly, I managed to sit up and shed the blanket they had placed over me. Jordan, her roommate and coworker, walked into the room strangely dressed. Her legs were bare except for socks, but she held a large blue down parka closed across her body. It fell almost to her knees. Her pinkish red hair a rat's nest, she grinned at me with the silver flash of her braces and the barbell in her right brow.

"Hi Arthur."

"You a little cold?" I asked, wondering about the giant coat. Moving my head hurt just to look up into her big blue eyes.

"I don't have a robe," she replied.

'What happened to roommates prancing around the house nearly naked like in the movies?' I thought, and was about to ask when she changed the topic.

"I really had fun last night," she said, looking at me with unexpected affection.

"So did I, just too many shots." Mmm, I must have done something right.

"I'm gonna to go take a shower," the petite emo-skater girl said, "wanna join me?"

"Hey, no fucking in my bathroom! I gotta get back in there," Marisol yelled with a laugh, her head in the refrigerator.

"Jordan, I'm sorry, but I..." My head was pounding, and I was kicking myself for turning her down. She was my first date in over a year.

"Awww, Arthur." Jordan let the big coat open, and I saw the reason for the tent-like concealment.

Previously occupied with putting on my shoes, I had looked up to an amazing sight. My dick jolted, and felt a bit sore. Then I recalled the drunk, hot kissing and intense, gooey blowjob Jordan gave me on that same sofa several hours before.

As I was hunched over to tie my sneakers, I looked forward and my face was inches away from Jordan's raging morning boner inside her thin pink camo pattern panties. Its length was stretching the waistband and leg holes open on either side, revealing the razor burn where she had shaved around the base of the partially visible shaft. The ridge of the mushroom head seemed to be an incredible distance away from her torso. Otherwise a petite waif, she was definitely 'packing' as the expression goes. A sloppy t-shirt covered the rest of her and the many tattoos I had seen as she had stripped down to her bra the night before. My pulse escalated, and so did my pain.

"Are you surrrre?" she asked, grinning and swiveling her hips and making the cock jump tantalizingly. The bullet head swung side to side and bounced, taking the contorted panties with it; a mouthwatering sight. I cursed my hangover. "Oh, did you change your mind about...?" Jordan's expression soured.

"I didn't change my mind...it's just that my head hurts so bad!" I held my hands up and pressed my temples. The thought of moving my throbbing skull up and down repeatedly was unbearable. I couldn't believe I was walking away from my chance to suck or maybe take a dick in my ass for the first time.

Her shoulders slumped and she frowned.

"How about tonight? Dinner, somewhere nice, down at the beach," I offered, finally removing my gaze from the severely bulging underwear with the wet spot on the tip and looking up into her beautiful, large blue eyes. Despite my dousing her face with jizz last night, she still had a bit of eyeliner and mascara remaining. "Unless I'm too old to be seen with in public." Since this seemed to be all about leaving comfort zones, I was now challenging Jordan to be seen out in the world, on an old-fashioned 'date' with a middle-aged guy actually older than her father.

2

Backtracking a bit, I ended up in this South Jersey resort town as an assignment for work. My girlfriend of sixteen years had left and moved out after meeting someone else. It was a sad but not nasty split. We had argued with more frequency and were simply growing apart. I was ready for a fresh start as well. After a long stretch at the headquarters of a property management company, I took a position as a regional director and relocated.

My exciting fresh start fizzled immediately, as a move and busy summer with little free time was followed by a dull, rainy, off season winter. The broadband in my condo was erratic, so I began spending more and more time on the wi-fi of the trendy cafe and sandwich chain not far away, sipping on coffee and staring at my laptop. I got into small talk and eventually some nice conversations with the female employees, two in particular that usually worked the closing shift. I thought they were being politely tolerant of me, with my salt and pepper hair and goatee, offering my fatherly but optimistic advice and support for their ambitions beyond their current jobs. They were both adorable, but I knew I didn't have a chance in hell with either of them at my age.

In her late twenties, full-figured Marisol had hooded but wide, sexy dark eyes and jet black hair, mostly hidden under her company baseball cap. Somewhat maternal, she seemed to take pity on lonely me, asking about my social life and learning about my journey to becoming single once more.

Aspiring, freckle-faced artist Jordan, who was twenty-three but looked fifteen, was shy, but expressed herself with many random tattoos on her arms elsewhere, I assumed, and wildly colored lips and hair. Her big blue eyes seemed constantly surprised, and her braces flashed when she smiled and revealed the dimples on her cheeks. Her svelte body seemed almost lost under the baggy jeans and black aprons she wore while working, other than perky, apple-sized and apparently immobile breasts.

The two employees began to let me stay after closing time at the cafe while they finished cleaning up and had a snack, and began sitting with me and chatting while scrolling through their phones.

We had previously discussed politics a bit, and my 'live and let live' attitude seemed to relax them some, proving that I wasn't a closed-minded old guy like they first thought. I admitted that in my younger years I was an intolerant jerk, but outgrew it as I dealt with many people from different backgrounds, and stopped denying my own cravings over the years, and so on. They were the first persons that I non-anonymously confessed my latent, bisexual curiosity to.

One rainy Thursday night they seemed to have an agenda, glancing at each other frequently. I finally told them to just ask me whatever the hell it was they were stalling around about.

Finally Marisol blurted out a question, over a protest from Jordan.

"You'll embarrass him," Jordan said. The young woman was even more quiet than usual, but fidgety, frequently laying her head to the side on her extended arm on the table, almost like a kid.

"Go on, you won't embarrass me."

"Would you want to meet a transgender girl?" Marisol asked. "One still with...something extra?"

"This is shallow, but honestly, sure, if I thought she was cute," I replied, having thought about it from time to time, admitting to myself that I found feminine features combined with penises quite exciting. But, I never expected to meet anyone transgender in a thousand years, since most were way younger than me, if porn sites were any indication. Joking, I asked if they were going to fix me up.

"Yep, we know someone who likes you." Marisol said.

"Yeah right," I said skeptically, but didn't want to slam the door either. "Daddy issues?"

"You'll have to ask her," Marisol replied, "She's going to be at our apartment, do you want to have a drink with us? She just wants to meet, no pressure, okay? "

"Tonight?"

"No, Halloween!" Marisol said sarcastically, "Yes tonight!"

"Sure," I replied, shrugging but smiling, not feeling so old suddenly. I was excited at the possibilities.

"Go on, text her," she said to the red-haired girl. Jordan grinned, I assumed at her coworker's smart-assed comment, as her thumbs typed away.

They then refused to tell me any details or even hints at who it was, as I was guessing it was another of their coworkers or even one of the regular customers. I mentally tried to inventory possible candidates, arriving at no conclusions.

I followed them to their apartment complex, and the three of us filed into their dark living room.

"It won't be long now," Marisol said, flipping lights on. "We're going to go change, make yourself at home."

They disappeared into their bedrooms. Soon Jordan emerged in a gray tank top and neon green yoga shorts, the tightest clothes I had seen her wear. Damn she was skinny; her ass was beautiful and her tits looked even larger as the tight shirt hugged her narrow ribcage and nearly concave tummy. Her red hair, an artificially pinkish hue, was down over her bra straps and narrow but athletic shoulders. She had freshened her makeup, and her lips were now a violet color. She looked quite fuckable, and I wished she 'liked me' too, but I had to try to ignore her enticing looks and wait for their friend.

Then my pulse raced as I realized maybe my wish was granted after all. As she grabbed a bottle of Jagermeister and some shot glasses, facing me, instead of a camel toe, I noticed a significant bulge in her shorts, like she was hiding an orange in them. Damn! Was my secret admirer actually cute little Jordan? I was flattered that she was giving me a chance, if it was really her. At the cafe over the last couple weeks I had lucked into a few nice upper ass crack views of her as she bent over cleaning tables or squatting to access something in a low cabinet. Maybe they weren't accidental after all.

However, Jordan's sometimes standoffish silence but frequently vulnerable demeanor was going to present a challenge in keeping her interest without sounding like a father all the time. I had even researched some art history on line, in what I had thought was a frivolous exercise to share her interests, at least conversationally.

Instead of sitting next to me on the couch, she sat facing me on the coffee table, nervously smiling at her revealed secret. Her eyebrows raised quizzically as she caught me looking down at her crotch. The seam of the shorts divided her balls and a considerable bulge was withheld by panties against one side of her groin. So Jordan had a dick. Was their story about a visitor on the way just a ruse? Maybe she still had a trans friend about to arrive, so I chose my words carefully. Due to my age, I was halfway expecting an 'ewww' from her at my next comment.

"Just so you know, if this mystery girl isn't you, I want it to be you," I said, hoping no one else was showing up.

I didn't get an 'eww', but an 'awww'. "You're so sweet," she said, then leaned forward to give me what seemed like a consoling peck on the mouth. I was sure she had landed some lucky young lover by now. I was actually a little sad it wasn't her, as we had some nice talks over the last couple months. She was extremely smart, and though quiet, not afraid to call me out if I said something stupid.

There were three shot glasses on the coffee table, she filled all of them. I assumed the visitor was about to arrive after all, but her suddenly smoldering stare at me seemed to contradict that.

We clicked glasses and downed the shots; the liquor was a jolt but satisfying. I had barely handed her my empty glass when she leaned in and her violet lips were again pressed onto mine, this time for more than a peck. Her hand held the side of my face. I was in shock, but a good kind of shock. Several short but noisy kisses followed.

"We didn't lie. I am at our apartment," she said as we were touching noses, referring to their statement that the girl I was to meet was going to be there.

It was her that 'liked me'! Yes, yes, yes! I was ecstatic. As our lips dragged across each other, I reached out and caressed her sides just above her waist. After a few moments she pulled away, smiling, her eyes intensely looking into mine. Jordan then called out to her roommate to join us for shots.

We resumed kissing as Marisol emerged in sloppy black sweats, clapped and squealed with glee, apparently the matchmaking architect of this improbable May-September liaison. She was busy texting someone in between her shots, and Jordan sat sideways in my lap, running her fingers through my hair as I frequently glanced down at her nice, 'cigar gap' cleavage and bulging, semi-hard dick. Marisol went to bed not long after, so Jordan and I were alone again.

After some intense, moaning, frequently open-mouthed tongue jousting, she suddenly lifted herself off my lap and sank to her knees on the carpet. She slipped off the tank top and was now in shorts and bra only, a wine-colored but sheer smooth cup, that clung to her stiff nipples, which I then saw were each pierced and held a half-inch diameter ring against a bloated and protruding, conical areola.

She grinned at me as she furiously unbuckled and unzipped everything, pushing my pants and boxers to my ankles and grabbing my rock-hard dick as if she was starving for it. She was nearly giggling as she licked my shaft and circled my head, only breaking her gaze to cup my hairy, loose nuts in her fingers and give them a caressing tongue bath. I loved the view of her thin upper body in just the bra, surrounded by her random ink: classic barbed wire around a deltoid, a partial sleeve of thorny vines that morphed into a Cerberus, a Pegasus on a forearm, a knife and heart on the other. Underlying the bra straps and across her shoulder blades, befitting her metamorphosis, was a large, colorful butterfly tattoo.

Her mouth was strong, spastic, and dripping with hot, slimy spit. For being such a quiet, shy girl at her job, she was the opposite when working my cock. I was mesmerized as I watched the top of her head rapidly slam up and down. I've got a thick six inches, and despite her braces she had no trouble swallowing it whole. My hand was on the back of her head for a bumpy ride, and I was afraid she was going to break her nose in my pubes as she gulped me to the root, moaning and grunting. She seemed go forever without breaking suction on it; I guess she didn't require oxygen like the rest of us.

So far, Jordan had hardly used her hands on my cock, mostly rubbing my hairy thighs, nuts and stomach. But as my grunts and moans grew more frequent, she suddenly jerked it with a slick death grip as she looked up and spoke, her throat rough and clogged with phlegm, a string of it suspended from her chin.

"Arthur! Come on my face!" She tugged at my shirt, wanting me to stand.

I arose, wavering from the alcohol, and hummed loudly as she yanked my saliva-coated reddish meat harshly. Finally I grunted like a primate as pumped a huge load up and down across her wide-open mouth, making thick pearl strings and ribbon trails from her forehead to her chin, creating a pool in an eye socket and dripping down her jaw onto to the pale globes of her tits. It felt terrific and was fun to watch myself make her pretty face into a mess.

Splattered little Jordan moaned with satisfaction as I shook the last drops onto her chest as she leaned back, staring up at me with one eye and a spermy metal grin. Below I saw a large bulge climbed up the inside of her thigh. A different angle and the dick head would have been poking out into view.

"Kiss me?" she asked, the sperm making strings across her lips, and her hands rubbing my bare hips above my lowered jeans as my dripping, deflating dick hung free.

Drunk and appreciative of this hot suck job from a young woman, I sat back down, leaned in, and consented to my first snowball kiss since an accidental one in college. Our tongues worked my jizz into a salty white froth, and I kept going by licking the whole load off Jordan's skin and shared it with her, including retrievals from out of her cleavage and off her neck. That's the last thing I remembered until waking up disoriented the next morning to the sight of Marisol cradling her chunky tits in the fuzzy bathrobe.

3

Back to the next day, to my surprise, Jordan gleefully accepted my offer of dinner to make up for me leaving so abruptly to sleep off my headache. The two women had worked a day shift at the cafe, and I picked her up at a little after eight that night.

Marisol answered the door, holding a curling iron, its cord dangling I had brought a small bouquet of flowers, old school hokey, but I would have done the same for any date, young or older. After Marisol told me how nice I looked in my jacket and tie, and put the flowers in a rinsed out tea pitcher, she said Jordan was excited but very nervous about going out. Before we could say anything else, her roommate emerged, looking terrific if not a little tentative.

Jordan's hair was in long twisting curls that bounced around her collar bones and shoulders, which were mostly bare, owing to the vintage halter dress she wore. It was sort of a shorter, black version of the famous Marilyn Monroe 'sidewalk grate' dress, the one the star was holding down against the airflow that blew it up to her waist.

There were several layers of black netting beneath my date's dress. giving it the illusion of a slightly uplifting flow as she walked into the room in black stockings and a pair of sliver platform heels, carrying a silver clutch purse. Her nails were painted to match her red lips and her makeup was flawless. She shrugged cutely as she stepped into the living room, nervously grinning.

"Wow!" My jaw was hanging open. I was glad I decided to wear a jacket and tie after all. "Jordan you look..."

"Don't say it!" She held up her hand. "Ridiculous, I know! Remember, I'm not used to dressing up!"

"Just terrific!" I finished.

"Thank you Arthur," she said before giving me a peck hello and reaching for her giant blue coat. She smelled wonderful. I could see her butterfly tattoo completely now since the dress was backless except at her hips. The minimal dress offered a view below her underarm of more ink and a bit of the side of her tit, beautifully firm beneath the slightly loose halter top. Marisol took a couple phone pics of us before the awesome view of Jordan's body disappeared within the coat. I almost felt like I was on the way to prom once more.

The sale of my previous house funded something I had always wanted. My latest toy was a big Tundra four door pickup with fat all-terrain tires and a raised off-road suspension. I had to lift petite Jordan part way up by the waist to get her into the cab. Once she was seated but still facing me, she giggled and lifted her dress to briefly flash me her crotch. Despite the truck's dome light, I couldn't really see anything in the dark.