Babes

This story is an afterthought to the main quadrilogy and was inspired by a combination of real-life events and a clip from Porn Hub. The stylistic change from past to present tense, with the clipped sentence structure, was inspired by Literotica author Spoonbender’s story “Hot Tub Virgin”. The idea of being to write a real-time sex scene.

*

“Time to go!” says Tabitha.

Indeed, there are less than ten minutes before the scheduled departure.

We sheepishly exit the toilet block, expecting to be busted but the mass of people milling around the coach, loading luggage and boarding, pay us no attention at all. I grab my backpack from Tabitha’s car and walk back to the coach. The burly driver takes hold of it from me with two meaty hoofs and slings it into the hold.

There are only minutes left now, and so I turn to Tabitha. Her eyes express sadness but don’t well up with tears. We hug, lovingly, longingly. She smells of sex. I will miss her. We release each other, and I exhale an emotionally deep breath. I kiss her on the lips, and I bid my farewell.

Settling into the long journey, I stare at the barren landscape that flickers before my eyes, my thoughts drift back to the events of the day and all the fuck-ups that occurred that almost derailed my long-awaited dream of leaving this provincial backwater. And of course, those 4K HD thoughts start making my cock hard again so let’s start at the beginning.

I awake. The day is here!

The day I am leaving Albany for, as I hope, the last time. I have secured a promotion and a transfer to Melbourne. It is Saturday in early February. It is hot, the height of summer. I have my flight tickets out of this place and to my new home, away from here, where I will begin the next phase of my career. Over the past week, I have offloaded the house, had my belongings collected by the removal firm, finished up at the bank I began my career at, and had my raucous leaving party that lasted until the wee hours of today.

It is with a sore head that I rise out of bed, awaiting my ride to the airport. I say goodbye to my friends, whose house I stayed at for my last few days, and the transport arrives. Tabitha, in her busted-up Datsun 200-SX. The time is 11.00 am, and my flight is 11.45am, and the airport is but a mere 15 minutes’ drive.

All too easy.

Except that it is not as easy as my misplaced confidence suggests.

I walk into the terminal building just in time to see the SkyWest Airlines Dash-8 twin-turboprop racing down the runway, pull up and ascend into the azure sky! The blood freezes in my veins as it dawns upon me that I have missed my escape flight. Frantically, I approach the counter to make sense of it all, and it turns out I misread the departure time by 30 minutes: 11.15 (correct time of departure) vs 11.45 (incorrect time of departure). Worse still, my ticket, provided by my employer, is non-refundable and there is no way I can afford a replacement. I must get to Melbourne and take up my new duties. I am in a near panic when Tabitha chimes in with a solution, “What about the bus?”

Of course! There is a bus service leaving Albany later in the day that will take me to Perth. Yes, the means of conveyance will take 5 hours, but I have no choice. There is no time to lose, I must get a ticket.

Fifteen minutes later, we are back in Albany, where the journey began. The bus station is located at the bottom of York Street, nestled on the shores of Princess Royal Harbour. There is no bus and no signs of life.

I walk inside and approach the clerk that sells the tickets, and I am in luck. The bus is scheduled to depart at 3pm (the inbound coach hasn’t yet arrived), in just under three hours, and there are plenty of seats available. Disaster averted, but what to do for three hours?

Tabitha and I sit down on a bench outside the bus station with the summer sun beating down against us. I look upwards towards the town and see the White Star Hotel, home of many drunken adventures. The tavern and the beer it sells beckon me. Oh, it is tempting, but I will have to be careful not let the consumption of ale cause me to miss my only remaining lifeline out of here. One last time for good times’ sake?

“You don’t have to stick around here,” I say to Tabitha, hoping she takes off and thereby frees me up to consume some ale.

“It’s ok, I’m happy to stay, see you off and all.”

“Oh,” I reply, slightly disappointed, “What shall we do to kill time?”

I ask with genuine innocence.

“Is there anything you want to do here before you leave?”

I cock my head towards her with an incredulous look on my face. There is nothing left to do in this tiny outpost that I haven’t already done. The lack of opportunity, career and love, is my primary motivation to leave this town.

“Fair enough.” She answers, with a snort of laughter.

“You want to go to the pub?” As she is driving, I expect a negative reply.

“Sure.” So off we go.

Tabitha’s answer surprises me because, while she has long illegal bahis experience of drinking spiritous liquors, she never goes to the pub.

We walk into the main bar and must adjust our eyes to the gloomy interior. There aren’t many patrons; a handful of bodies are drinking beer at the tables, and the rest are placing bets on the horse races. I order drinks: beer for me and vodka for Tabitha. The well-endowed landlady shoots me a quizzical glance, “Weren’t you supposed to leave today?”

I let out a frustrating snort and explain my predicament. The bar lady laughs and then looks towards Tabitha sitting nervously at a table. I glance over to her and notice her vulnerability before turning back to the woman serving the drinks, I shake my head and say, “Long story!” She winks at me and serves another customer.

Tabitha and I clink glasses, and she gulps down a swig of vodka. Tabitha is dressed in a loose-fitting t-shirt that hides her large, well-formed breasts, ripped denim shorts highlighting her firm, tanned legs and a pair of sandals. The simplicity of the dress is the order of the day, but she looks great. It’s been some time since we engaged in our series of threesomes with her friend, Sarah, and we haven’t seen a lot of each other during the intervening period.

“What do you guys do here?” She asks me with wonderment as she surreptitiously scans this alien world. “Guys” is a reference to my ex-housemates, Andrew and Shane. The three of us were big drinking and high partying guys about town.

“Drink, play pool, listen to music, pick-up girls,” I reply.

The last pursuit generates a withering glance from Tabitha as she swallows another large gulp of vodka. I smile in return as my own track record is woeful.

“Have you ever played pool?” I ask, likely knowing the answer.

“No.”

“Want to learn?”

“Sure.” So off we go.

I pop the coins in the slot, rack up the balls and briefly explain the objectives of the game before handing her a cue. I break, disperse the balls and sink a “big”.

Predictably, Tabitha’s first shot misfires and results in a foul. This action repeats for some time and threatens an overly long game. Nothing is going to stop me from leaving. However, no amount of “watch how I do it” coaching is helping Tabitha improve her pool action. I quickly sink my balls and win the game.

“Do you want another drink?” I ask after I drain my glass.

“Sure.”

“You’d better be careful. Don’t drink and drive.” I admonish half-heartedly.

“Yes, dad!” We laugh.

When I return with new drinks, Tabitha is still struggling to strike the cue ball cleanly and hit any one of her six remaining balls, but she is heartily enjoying the effort. After taking a sip, Tabitha places the glass on a table and bends over the pool table to attempt another shot. She drapes her whole length across the table, with one leg on the floor and the other at a horizontal angle. I stand behind her and watch her denim shorts ride up to the top of her thighs. The gusset of the shorts tightens against her crotch, revealing her panties. My cock jumps in surprise.

Predictably, the shot misfires and the cue ball sinks slowly into the corner pocket. Tabitha stands up and adjusts her shorts but expresses little awareness of what she has just flashed. And then the idea hits me. Could Tabitha and I enjoy one last steamy session before I leave town?

As I turn over the possibilities in my mind, I become hornier by the nano-second. Tabitha is utterly oblivious to my leching, given her interest in this new stick and ball game. I quickly devise a strategy that may lead to an opening.

I swallow some liquid courage just as Tabitha lines up for another shot. I press up behind her and match my hands with hers that are holding the cue stick. My tumescence is obvious, but I do all I can to keep it from being detected. I use my bulk to bend Tabitha over the table into a position better suited to taking a competent shot. My head nestles over her shoulder where I breathe into her ear.

“Place your hand in this position,” I whisper as Tabitha mimics my finger position at the tip of the cue.

“This hand goes here,” I say, directing her other hand to the base of the cue. I suddenly feel Tabitha blush in my grip, and her breathing quickens. We practise a few motions on the cue stick until the Ash strikes the Bakelite in a fair and accurate swing. This time, the cue ball sideswipes a pool ball and nudges it toward the pocket. Tabitha erupts in glee which breaks our embrace; she sports a huge grin of pride.

We settle down to take the next shot, and I repeat my strategy of close embrace. My hands cup hers at either end of the cue stick.

“Focus on the white ball and try to anticipate how it will on the ‘nine’ in front of you,” I breath into Tabitha’s ear. My cock is rock hard and pressing against my shorts, and to prevent detection, I angle my hips away slightly. “You want the white ball to strike the ‘nine’ on its edge but strike it gently”.

Tabitha illegal bahis siteleri wriggles underneath me, trying to achieve the perfect shot-making position. The Ash gently nudges the Bakelite towards the ‘nine’ ball touching at almost the correct angle. The ‘nine’ ball rolls towards the pocket and balances over the edge before disappearing with a satisfying clunk.

“Yes!” celebrates Tabitha and leaps out of our embrace. She spins around, stands on tiptoes, wraps a hard around my head and pulls my lips towards hers. Ours is not a passionate kiss but nor is it a peck. Our lips linger just that little while longer for it to be a platonic kiss.

The kiss feels nice and brings back a host of horny memories. Tabitha breaks it and looks a little sheepishly at me before turning away to “focus” on the table. I glance downward at my shorts and see a pronounced bulge out there for all to see. Luckily, there are too few customers to care.

Tabitha walks around the table to line up the next shot, but I hold back to judge what might happen next.

“I still need your help, Jason!” I am happy to provide it.

This time, Tabitha grinds her butt into my thigh as if deliberately trying to locate my mound. I offer some shot advice into her shell-like ear. This time, I stick my tongue out and gently lick the lobe. She lets out a deep breath, and her frame shudders. She knows that I am trying to hide my raging hard-on because she lets go of the base of the pool cue, reaches behind until she finds my thigh and pulls me into her. Now, my rather obvious boner is plumb against the cleft of her butt cheeks.

“Mm,” She teases, “that’s better.” It sure is. Tabitha has the most magnificent peach. She let me enter in a few months ago. Tabitha orgasms from anal penetration.

She takes the shot; the cue ball misses the pool ball and drops unceremoniously into the pocket.

“Foul!” I crow. Tabitha remains precisely where she is, wiggling her butt against my crotch before slowly rising. She leaves the cue on the table, arches her back into mine, rests her head against my shoulder before turning and whispering into my ear, “I want you to fuck me!”

I spin her around, and we kiss passionately, right there in the pool room of a half-empty pub on the day of my departure, with tongues driving deeply in and out of each other’s mouths.

“I want to fuck you too,” I say, breaking the tongue-ballet.

The question is, where can we have sex together in the middle of the afternoon? Tabitha will let me take her on that pool table because she is that hot to trot. Time is also an issue, it is past 1.30pm, and there are less than ninety minutes left before my scheduled departure. Many of our favourite outdoor places will be surging with tourists today, and the little private beach out of town, we frequented, is too far away to be practical.

We are at a frustrating loss. Tabitha suggests driving around until inspiration strikes. “Not too far,” I remind her.

We leave the pub and walk back to the bus station. I take the opportunity to grab some beers for the long journey to Perth. Tabitha purchases a bottle of water to swig on before driving to wherever.

Minutes later, we are back at Tabitha’s parked car. I look around, there are no other vehicles, no people and no activity. I hope this damn bus comes. I can’t afford another disaster.

“I’m just going to the toilet,” Tabitha announces.

She skips towards the bus station, and I gaze after her. Inspiration quickly strikes, so I follow in her lee to investigate the possibility of sex in the toilet. The exterior door to the public bathrooms opens to reveal a recently renovated and ultra-clean interior. To the left are the female toilets, to the right the male, and directly in front of me are two disabled toilets. Three of the four are free as Tabitha is in the fourth. The disabled toilets are sparklingly fresh, bright, and smell of lavender. In the circumstances, this place answers our requirements. It is Tabitha who I must convince.

“We can’t do it here,” shrieks my incredulous cock socket, “People will hear!”

“There’s no-one around.” I remind her, but I notice an eyebrow rising in suspicion, “Go and look.”

Tabitha does and sees that I speak the truth. She turns back to me and pushes me across the threshold of the disabled toilet with a sexy giggle. A second later, the slide bolt falls into place, and we are alone together with our hormones raging at fever pitch. Tabitha melts into my arms.

Tabitha is naturally submissive, sexually, but she continues to grow in maturity. Tabitha has a wide range of skills and is more advanced than any of her peers in a town as small and isolated as Albany. I smugly congratulate myself for assisting with her sexual maturity, because I know what pleasure I can expect from this encounter.

We kiss with passion. Tabitha, turned on, kisses with urgency. She is on tip toes to meet my lips. Her arms and hands travel all over my body, with the sense of tactile touch enhancing her arousal. canlı bahis siteleri Our dance of tongues elicits whimpers of pleasure from both of us.

As expected, I must direct the sexual activity. I place one of Tabitha’s hands deliberately on my cock. She craves the direction, and enthusiastically grabs the shaft. I let out a sharp hiss because of her vice-like grip. She needs to learn some subtlety.

I place my hands on her slim waist, my nails lightly stimulate the skin. I inch up her top, the material snags at the obstacles that are her large, curvy breasts. Tabitha takes the hint. Our kiss is interrupted. We’re disengaged. Her hands grab the t-shirt, and within a second it has been discarded on the floor. Tabitha’s arms reach behind her, and the bra falls to the floor. She looks up at me with a smile. There is no longer any bashfulness about exhibiting her perfect body to me. Tabitha is body positive.

I clumsily disrobe. I almost trip trying to get a foot through my shorts. Tabitha giggles at my clownish behaviour. But not loudly because she doesn’t want to attract attention. I kick my clothes across the floor towards Tabitha’s. Now the two of us are naked and ready to get nasty.

Tabitha leans down and takes my raging cock in her mouth. She’s still clumsy at giving a blow job but is better now than ever before. Tabitha continues to need direction, and I gladly give it. Despite being unable to take much of my length down her throat, she uses her tongue to maximum, pleasurable effect. I enjoy her liberal use of saliva to lube my pole although I know her pussy will be positively dripping. I direct Tabitha to use her tongue on my tightening ball sack, and I gently encourage her to go a bit further south by raising a leg and resting it on the toilet bowl. In my slightly inebriated state, I try to push Tabitha to her limit for my pleasure. Somewhat selfish, yes, but Tabitha is by nature submissive, and she exists to serve.

Of course, I’m encouraging Tabitha to use her tongue on my sensitive arsehole. As I will do with her. I am not successful at persuasion even at this late hour. The best I will get is a scrotum bath, which is not a bad second prize. Right now, I’m looking at myself in the bathroom mirror while enraptured by a robust and wet tongue lapping at my ball sack and my scrotum, while a gentle hand clumsily attempts to work my shaft.

I could enjoy this attention forever, but time is marching forward. It is time for me to repay Tabitha, to move the action on. She always smells and tastes fantastic. Her body is super sensitive in several ways, in more ways than she realises. This starts with her lips, her neck, her ears, her perfect breasts, her perfectly sculpted tummy, and further down, all the way to her feminine toes.

I turn around from facing the basin mirror and help Tabitha up. Saliva is smeared across her face. She arches her back to relive the discomfort of performing oral sex on me. My cock is hard. It and my balls are slick with saliva. Tabitha takes a quick swig of water to refresh. It is warm in this toilet block, she and I have broken out in a sweat, not entirely due to the internal temperature.

I pull Tabitha towards me, and we kiss passionately again. Perhaps for the last time? My raging cock presses deeply into her taut tummy. I cup one of her perfect breasts and gently squeeze the cherry on top. Tabitha lets out a pleasing hiss. I lean down and take that cherry in my mouth. She runs her fingers through my long, blonde hair, and breathes gently into my ear. Shivers of pleasure shoot down my spine like electricity.

I nibble and suck both cherries with enthusiasm, but I need her pussy. She needs attention. We have this urgency at the exact same time. We disengage. She takes the lead. A sign of her growing confidence. Tabitha perches her perfectly, fuckable peach on the disabled toilet, and she spreads her legs with wanton lust. Tabitha leaks like a sieve, and she parts her sculpted, bronzed limbs, I see the unmistakeable snail trails on the inside of each thigh. I drop to my knees and shuffle towards her. The scent of her sloshy cunt is domineering as I approach. I clearly see the sparkle of female fluid bubbling at the entrance of her fuckhole. Tabitha’s body is a nervous powder keg of lust. I blow gently on her matted lips. She shrieks a little too loudly for our environment, and her body erupts.

“No,” I’m told breathlessly, “Don’t tease me.”

Her mousy brown hair partially covers her face. Her cheeks are flushed. Her skin is pricked with sweat beads. She uses her hands to hold her legs apart. Her mighty chest rises and falls with the desperate need for air to feed her sexually charged heart that is pumping blood throughout her veins.

I part Tabitha’s sticky lips. They are no longer pink in colour but are now fire engine read with blood-fuelled desire. The inner folds pulse ever so slightly, but with each spasm, a white fluid leaks out that pools towards her wrinkled pucker not that far to the south.

I force Tabitha’s legs back just that little bit more so that I have access to her arsehole, wet cunt and pulsating clit. I intend to enjoy this last encounter to the maximum and gorge myself. The wank bank will thank me for it later during the lonely nights in Melbourne.

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