Bestowal - Sex Stories

Bestowal

... mean you have to get in the cross fire." I expect Christie to argue some more, but she surprisingly gives in. "Okay," she says, "Derek and I will find some way to keep amused." Jake gives her a look, semi-threatening and sort of irritated, then looks at me. "Just remember, bub, she's my girl. I'm going to take a shower." While Jake's packing, Christie and I go out for some tennis. She's wearing this cute little number, and every time she retrieves a ball I can see her panties and ass peek out from the skirt. As we rest between sets, I try to have a conversation with her. "Do you think this is a good idea?" "Why not?" Christie retorts. "Jake trusts me. Besides, this will give you a good chance to pay up on our bet." When she sees my shocked face, she laughs, then bounces to the base line and proceeds to whip my butt in yet another set. We grab a sandwich at a Burger King on the way to the airport -- Jake's happy, at least -- and as Jake gets out at the entrance, he thanks me and says, "Be nice to my girlfriend, now -- keep her safe for me, okay?" I drive the rental car around the perimeter while Christie goes into the ticket counter with Jake, keeping him company until he has to run the security gauntlet. Finally, she pops out and climbs in the passenger seat. On the way out to the expressway, she says, "Hey, are you in a hurry to get back to the condo?" "Not really," I admit. "Why, you got something you want to do?" "Sure, let's go into the city and do the tourist traps." ...

... We'd thought about this on the way down, it's an old southern town, but Jake nixed the idea, just wanting to lay around the resort. "Sounds good." By the time we get there, I find out Christie has a full itinerary planned around the shopping district. I don't really mind, though, walking with her through the old slave market. Just watching her face light up with a bargain is enough for me. We stop for a drink, chat about little in particular, then stroll through the palms and magnolias, admiring the mansions and gardens. We come across a restaurant, and decide to step into the courtyard and sample the menu of grilled halibut and crab cakes. The waiter dribbles the French wine into our glasses; I notice that Christie seems to be imbibing the scented liquid faster than I. Jake's presence, or lack of it, seems to be forgotten. Under the table, I sense Christie's foot bump against mine, she doesn't seem to be in a rush to move it. After we refuse deserts or an after dinner drink, we stumble through the late twilight to the car, and begin the drive back to the island. The route takes us through a business district, one lined with gas stations, Taco Bells and carpet stores. We pass a gaudily lit establishment, Christie remarks on the signboard advertising 'Girls, 24 hours a day.' "Do you and Jake go to those kind of places often?" "We used to. We haven't been to one since you moved in with him," I reply. "Why do you like it?" "Me? I don't, not that much. Jake's the guy who always ...