SOUND ADVICE--Part 3 - Sex Stories

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SOUND ADVICE--Part 3

Date: 9/22/2015, Categories: Fiction, Anal, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Romance, Author: senorlongo, Rating: 95.6, Source: sexstories.com

would like to do her.” My body tensed. Marie and virtually all the patrons had heard the comment from his coarse crude mouth. My eyes were steel grey when I turned on the stool to face this old fool. “Don’t come in again. Go to Walgreens instead. I no longer want your business.” “But…I don’t have a car.” “You might have thought about that before shooting off your big stupid mouth. I’m not kidding…I’ll throw your miserable ass out onto the street if I ever see you in the store again. Take the bus to Walgreens. I’ll send your prescription information over there first thing Monday morning.” “And, while you’re at it,” I heard Barney call from the kitchen, “Get out and don’t ever come in here again. I’ll contact the police if you do.” Simon had a confused and forlorn look on his face as he slowly trudged to the door. He turned around for a second then proceeded out to the sidewalk and the street. “You didn’t have to do that, Barney,” I told my friend. “It was overdue, Mike. He was always in here telling outrageous stories about everything he did with your mother. I don’t need that in my place. I have women and children in here all the time. Good riddance to that jerk.” He had a scowl on his face, but broke into an easy laugh and soon enough the entire luncheonette joined him. The laughter continued until I interrupted, “Remind that daffy husband of yours, Marie--I don’t want my omelet burned.” With that Barney turned to see the smoke pouring from the grill, rolled his eyes in my ... direction and hustled back through the swinging doors that had graced the establishment for more than thirty years. I couldn’t help myself; I laughed so hard I actually cried. A second later Marie joined me and so did everyone else. Five minutes later I actually got to eat. It was one of the best omelets I’d ever had. My watch read 10:32 when I drove into the garage. I was pleased to see the caterers setting up the bar and tables and chairs in the back yard. Bob Johnson, himself—the owner of Thor’s and an old friend—was there to supervise. I watched with interest as the canopy that would cover all of us during the party slowly took shape. I paced back and forth on the patio and the pool deck until Bob called to me. “Damn, Mike—you’re like a cat in a rocking chair factory. I can’t believe you’re so nervous.” I was laughing when I replied. “No, Bob—I’m not nervous; I’m antsy…impatient. I should never have agreed to the wedding at two. I have nothing to do until 12:30, at the earliest. That’s almost two hours away.” “C’mon, let’s have a drink. You’re buying!” Then he laughed at his own feeble joke. Bob and I had graduated together, but he was headed to Penn and Wharton. He had earned his MBA just about the same time I had my MS in Pharmacy Science. Now he was one of the area’s most successful entrepreneurs, owning two companies in addition to Thor’s Steakhouse. I gladly joined him for one--and only one--drink. I’d never insult Sheila by showing up drunk for our wedding. We sat at ...