The Wicked Witch of Waverly West

Info silverhawk
12 Oct. '17

It was the second week of October of that year when I met her at Waverly West.  Now, Waverly, Tennessee isn’t very big and everybody knows everybody there, so Waverly West isn’t really the name of the bar.  I still go there a couple of weekends a month and don’t want to get my ass thrown out because somebody there reads this and recognizes me.  Her name isn’t really Sheila either, just so you don’t go down to Waverly looking for her.  She’s not there anyway.  I know where she lives, but I’m not telling.

Waverly West can get a little rough sometimes, so the woman who walked in that night was a little out of place, well, really out of place, really.  Most of the girls at Waverly West wear tight shorts and tank tops up until it gets cold outside.  After that, they wear tight jeans and tank tops.  She had on a grey skirt cut just above her knees that fit nicely tight over her hips, a white silk blouse that fit just as nicely over her breasts, and black heels that made her nylon-clad legs look a mile long.  I guessed her at maybe late forties.  She took a seat by herself at the end of the bar, fluffed her long blonde hair, and crossed her legs.  The skirt rode up a little higher.  Linda, the girl tending bar that night, walked down to take her order.

Linda came back to my stool, picked up my beer and looked through the bottle at the beer sign on the post behind me.

“You need another, Sam?”

“Yeah, I’ll have another.”

It was fun watching Linda bend down to pull the longneck out of the tub of ice.  Linda has nice breasts.  I don’t know where she buys her bras, but they lift those babies up high enough they almost spill out of her little tank tops when she bends over.  Yep, there she went again.  I swear I saw some darker pink skin sort of flow out of her top when she pulled the bottle out.  Linda grinned when she sat the bottle on a cardboard coaster in front of me.

“Two-fifty, Sam.  I oughta charge you for another just for looking at my boobs.”

“Can’t help myself, Honey.  I keep thinking one of these nights, I’m gonna get to see ‘em, all of ‘em.”

She chuckled.

“In your dreams, Sam.  The only guys who see my girls are Harry and old Doc Mitchell.”

Linda slowly slid her little pink tongue over her upper lip and then smiled.

“Harry says they’re pretty nice for an old married lady.  What d’you think?”

“I think you’re teasing the hell out of me, and that Harry’s one lucky son of a bitch.”

She giggled.  

“That’s what I keep telling him.”

Linda was always like that.  She’d tease you to death, and then giggle when you made a pass.  She really liked messing with us guys then.  Still does.

One of the guys at the other end of the bar whistled, and Linda swayed her sexy ass away.  Harry was lucky.  He also owned Waverly West, so everybody knew Linda was a look and talk, but don’t touch, kind of woman.

I looked back at the blonde.  She was swirling the ice in what remained of whatever it was she was drinking.  When Linda came back to the register in front of me, I asked her if she’d seen the blonde here before.

“Nope, and the way she’s dressed, I’d remember.”

“What’s she drinking?”

“Planter’s punch.”

“Well, send her another one, on me.”

Linda dropped a fresh coaster in front of the blonde, sat down the glass, and said something to her.  The blonde looked down the bar at me, smiled, and mouthed, “Thank you”.

Linda replaced their empties with fresh longnecks for a couple other guys, then came back to me.

“She’s married, you know, and from the size of the diamond, she’s very married.”

“No, I didn’t, but all I did was buy her a drink.  No harm in that, is there?”

Linda grinned.

“Yeah, I know how harmless you are.  The next thing I know, you’ll be moving down there beside her.  Then you’ll buy her enough drinks she can’t drive, and volunteer to take her home, with a little time out in the parking lot before you do.  I know about the camper on the back of your truck, you know.  Jesse told me.”

“Now Linda, I only use my camper for hunting and fishing, well, except for that one time, and that was Jesse’s idea anyway.  I had her half way home when she said she needed to use my porta-pottie.  That’s all that happened, I swear.”

Linda laughed.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna believe that. I’ve seen you looking.  You oughta be ashamed of yourself.  Jessie’s old enough to be your mother.”

“No, she’s only fifty three, and besides, my mother never looked like that in her life.”

I finished that beer and another.  The blonde talked to a couple of other guys, and they looked disappointed when they walked away.  She was still sitting there when I decided to call it a night.

The next Saturday, she was back, sitting on the same stool with a drink in front of her.  Linda brought my beer.

“You gonna buy her another drink tonight?  She’s having a vodka sour if you are.”

“I think I’ll do just that.  Tell her I think she’s pretty.”

She was, too.  Her black dress fit in all the right places, and her long blonde hair fell in waves over the thin little straps that held the low-cut top over the swell of her breasts.  The same color nylons set off the black heels a little better than last week, I thought, but maybe it was just that the hem of her dress was a little higher.  When Linda sat the fresh drink in front of her, the blonde looked at me, smiled, and crooked her finger.  I picked up my beer and did my best to look casual as I walked down the bar.

She smiled and stuck out her hand.

“Hi.  I’m Sheila.  Thanks for the drink.”

“I’m Sam, and I like buying drinks for pretty girls.”

“I know your name.  Linda told me.  That’s a really weak line, by the way.  I haven’t been a girl in a long time.”

“It wasn’t a line, and you may not be a girl, but you’re still pretty.”

Sheila grinned.

“You’re not trying to pick me up?  I’m devastated.”

I shrugged.

“ You’re wearing a ring.  I didn’t figure you’d be interested.”

“Yes, I’m married.  It’s still nice that guys try though.”

I grinned.

“Honey, I got me a camper on my truck out in the parkin’ lot.  Wanna go test out my springs?”

Sheila choked on her drink and grabbed a napkin off the bar to cover her mouth.  She coughed a couple of times, then laughed.

“Is that how they do it here?   Sounds really romantic.”

I grinned at her.

“Well, you have to see my camper to get the full effect.  It has a double bed and a porta-potti.”

Sheila sighed a fake sigh and patted her soft breasts.

“Oh Sam, you’re taking my breath away.  If you keep talking like that, I’ll have to let you have your way with me.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.  In case you hadn’t noticed, you’re a little overdressed for this place.  I figure if a woman like you was going to have some fun on the side, she’d rather be at the Hilton in Memphis.”

Sheila smiled.

“The Memphis Hilton is a nice hotel, but I’m not what you think I am.”

“So, what are you, I mean besides being overdressed and pretty.”

“Just an ordinary girl who got lucky, I guess.”

Sheila sipped her drink, then swallowed.

“Most people would say that anyway.”

“But you don’t think so?”

Sheila smiled at me.

“Let’s just be you and me, OK?  I’m having fun.”

That night, I danced a slow dance with Sheila.  At first, she kept some distance between us, and I didn’t press the issue.  Halfway through the song, she eased closer, and by the end, her cheek was resting on my shoulder and her soft breasts were flattened into my chest.  The song ended, and Sheila looked up at me and smiled.

“I have to go now.  Thanks for everything, Sam.”

Every year, the Waverly West has a Halloween party.  People are supposed to come in costume and Harry gives a hundred to the winner of the costume contest.  Most of the guys just come in their regular clothes.  The girls seem to like the idea of dressing up, so besides the witches, nurses, and maids, there are some really neat costumes.  Last year, Sandy won it with her little white see-thru babydoll, white-feathered bra, and white thong panties.  The judging committee claimed her white-feathered slippers had swung the vote, but then, they were mostly drunk at the time.

I walked through the door into a sea of satin, lace, and leather covered tits and ass.  Any guy who wasn’t hard as a rock after five minutes in the place had to be blind or really needed to see a doctor.  I sat down on my usual stool and asked Linda to bring me a beer.  She sat the sweating bottle on a napkin.

“She’s not here.”

“Who’s not here.”

“Sheila, that blonde you’ve been drooling over for the last two weeks.”

“I was not drooling.  I hardly ever drool, except when you wear something like you’re wearing tonight.”

Linda had on a pirate outfit.  The leather corset was trying desperately to hold in her breasts, and swelled out over her hips deliciously.  Her little shorts almost didn’t have legs, and I was sure I’d see her ass cheeks when she walked away.

Linda patted the fake dagger in her belt.

“Be careful, Sam.  If you try anything, I’ll pull out my sword and …well, I’ll be damned.”

I followed Linda’s gaze and thought the same thing.  Sheila was walking up to me, except she moved more like a cat in heat than a woman just walking.  Her long legs were perched on shiny, black stilletto heels, and were black fishnet all the way up to the lace tops of her stockings.  Those stockings were clipped into garters that made wide black lines on her tanned thighs from the lace tops up and under her little black leather shorts.  Above the shorts was a black lace bodice that showed little circles of golden skin all the way up to black velvet that covered her breasts.  The velvet wasn’t transparent, but it didn’t have to be.  Sheila’s breasts, obviously with no bra to contain them, swayed seductively with every step, and her nipples made two very erotic bumps in the front. Above the bodice was bare, honey-gold skin.  Her eyes looked big and mysterious from the makeup she’s used, and the whole thing was topped off by a black, pointed witches hat.

Sheila sat down on the stool beside mine and grinned.

“Sam, close your mouth.  Haven’t you ever seen a wicked old witch before?”

“Not one like you.  Damn, Sheila…you’re hot enough to scorch paint.”

“I’ll take that as meaning you like me.”

“I’d have to be a complete fool not to.”

“Well, thank you, Sam.  It’s good to know I still have something left.”

“Sheila, what you think you have left is more than most of the girls in here had to begin with.

She smiled.

“Now, that’s a pickup line I like.”

“Since you like it, can I buy you a drink?”

Linda brought the cosmopolitan Sheila wanted and another beer for me.  When I handed her the ten, Linda winked at me.  As soon as she walked back to the register, Sheila chuckled.

“That wink means she thinks you’re going to get lucky tonight, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, probably.  Linda likes teasing me.”

“You ever…you know…take her out to your camper?  I think she likes you.”

I explained about Linda and Harry.

“Well, I still think she likes you.  Maybe you ought to try sometime.”  

Sheila finished her drink and I, my beer, so I asked Linda to bring us another round.  This time, Linda smiled innocently while pushing her index finger through the fist of her other hand a few times, and then walked back to her register.

Shelia laughed.

“There’s not much doubt about what that meant.”

“Don’t pay any attention to Linda.  She’s just teasing me again.”

“I know.  It feels good that she thinks that way though.”

“That she thinks we’re going to… -”

“That she thinks I might be good enough for you to want that.”

I decided I’d better change the subject before I stepped on my dick with some lame answer.

“Sheila, why aren’t you dressed up, like before?”

“Last week, I saw the sign that said there’d be a costume contest.  I thought it would be fun to join in, that’s all.  I know I won’t win, so I didn’t enter.”

“You could win.”

“No, all those young girls with their tight butts and perky boobs…I’m forty-four, and I’m not tight or perky anymore.  I’ll just sit here and watch them…and maybe we could dance again?”

We did dance again, half a dozen times or so.  I lost count somewhere between Sheila pressing her soft breasts into my chest and her doing her best to get her little shorts as tight to my crotch as she could.  As I held her during our last dance, her whisper in my ear sent shivers down my spine.

“Sam, have you really taken any women to your camper.”

“No, I just use it when I’m hunting or fishing.”

Sheila flattened her body against me just a little tighter.

“I’d be the first, then?”

“If I was to take you out there, yes.”

Sheila lifted her cheek from my shoulder and her deep blue eyes stared at me for a second before she kissed me.  Her tongue on my bottom lip sent those shivers down my back again.  

Sheila pulled gently away, and her eyes were shining.

“I’d like it if you did.”

I usually used a propane lantern to light my camper, but I’d left it in my garage.  The only light in the camper was what came through the window of the camper from the Waverly West sign in front of the bar.  I apologized to Sheila as I helped her up the steps.  Once I closed the door behind us, Sheila wrapped her arms around my neck and showed me what kissing was all about.  I mean, I’d kissed women before and it was great.  Kissing Sheila was more like having her fuck my mouth with her lips and tongue.  When she came up for air, my cock was threatening to rip out the front of my jeans.

“We don’t need a light Sam.  Just undress me.”

The bodice was difficult because I couldn’t see what had to come undone to take it off her.  Sheila lifted my hand to the top and whispered, “Sam, there’s a zipper in the front, under the lace.”  I pulled the tab down, and Sheila’s started unbuttoning my shirt.  She pulled the front open at about the same time I laid the bodice where I thought the counter was, then put her arms around my neck, kissed me again, and pressed her soft breasts into my bare chest.  I slipped my hands to her sides, then caressed the soft mounds.  Sheila purred a little moan into my mouth.

Her shorts were harder yet.  Sheila had to rock her hips back and forth so I could work them down.  In the process, I felt a lot of her ass with my hands, but almost missed the tiny thong panties she wore.  They rolled easily over her cheeks, and Sheila stepped out of both at the same time.   I felt her fingers fumbling with my belt buckle, touched her hand, and unbuckled it.  She unzipped the zipper, and pulled the jeans to my feet.  On her way back up, Sheila raked her nails over the back of my thighs and then my ass cheeks.  Her cheek brushed my rigid cock and I felt her soft fingers hook under the waistband of my shorts.  I kicked off my boots , stepped out of my pants and shorts, and felt for her garter belt.  Sheila stopped me with her soft hands on mine.  Her voice was a low, throaty whisper.

“Sam.  Leave it on.  It makes me feel sexy.”

I laid her down on the bed and then joined her.  As soon as my back touched the mattress, Sheila raised up and straddled me.  I could see her breasts in the dim light.  They weren’t huge, but they were beautiful, and they were hanging just over my face.  Sheila let her body lower enough her nipples brushed my lips, and I caught the left one and pinched it gently between my lips.  It was taut and covered in little soft ridges.  I rubbed my thumb over the right one and found it to be the same.  Sheila moaned, the pulled her nipple from my mouth.  She leaned down and her nipples dragged across the hair on my chest as she sought my lips again.  Sheila didn’t mess around when it came to kissing.  Her lips and tongue were saying “I need you.  Please fuck me”  and my cock was agreeing.  It really agreed when Sheila circled it with her soft hand, traced around the head with her fingertip, and then began stroking it slowly.

When Sheila raised back up, I slipped a fingertip down her soft tummy, then over her mound, then down her slit.  Her lips were slender, at first, long and slender, but after I parted them and gently rubbed the wet softness inside, they seemed to get thicker.  By the time I touched Sheila’s clit, they were soft, swollen, and seemed to wrap around my finger all by themselves.  I lightly stroked beside her clit while my other hand slipped under her ass, cupped it, and urged her to move forward.

She tasted…it’s hard to find the right words.  Her lips were slippery and a little sticky at the same time, and the taste was a little tart and a little musky, that musky taste that said she was all very aroused woman.  I pushed back her clit hood with my tongue and Sheila gasped.  When my tongue slipped under her clit and licked the little cleft, she gasped again and pressed her lips down into my face.

It happened without my meaning for it to.  All I did was roll both Sheila’s nipples with my fingers and suck gently on her clit.  It was like lighting the fuse on a cherry bomb…a very short fuse.

Sheila gasped, then moaned and rocked her hips.  A moment later, the dim light coming through the window of the camper caught the flash of her long blonde hair when she threw her head back and cried out quietly.  I felt warmth running over my chin, and the little in and out motion of her clit as she came.  Her hips kept rocking into my face for a while, and then Sheila leaned down to take her weight on her arms.  She was still breathing hard when she whispered.

“Oh God, Sam…I…I really needed that.”

She inhaled deeply then let her breath out slowly.

“Now I need you again…I need you inside me.”

I was stroking her smooth hip when Sheila moved back down my body, found my rigid cock with her slender fingers and eased down until I felt the head slip between her wet lips.  She didn’t say anything.  She just purred a little as she impaled herself on my length.  I felt her pussy lips caressing my shaft as she went down, then down some more, stopping only when those soft, puffy wet lips were splayed apart and resting on the base of my cock.  

Sheila shuddered once, moaned, and then began riding me.  It was natural for me to cup her swaying breasts again and stroke her nipple beds with my fingertips.  They were just as taut as her stiff nipples, and just as covered with tight little ridges brought on by the height of her passion.  I heard her murmur, “Yessss…that so nice.”

Sheila’s body seemed to be sucking at my cock as she moved up and down, and at the end of each stroke, she rocked her hips forward, driving my cock just a little deeper, deep enough my cock head slipped into a wet warmth that was incredible.  

Sheila moved slightly and I felt her hand slip between us and begin stroking her clit.  The rocking of her hips at each stroke became a little harder, and the feeling of her passage around my cock became even more wet and more clasping.  I was still stroking her nipple beds with my fingers when Sheila gently moved my them to her nipples.  Her voice was low, throaty, and erotic like I’d never heard before.

“If you pinch them and pull, I’ll have an orgasm.”

Somehow, Sheila saying ‘orgasm’ instead of ‘cum’ like most other women would have said caused my brain to kick into cumming mode.  It was what a sophisticated woman might say, but Sheila was more of a rocking, panting, gasping body craving release then sophisticated woman just then.  It just got to me, and while I’d been letting her do most of the work, my body took over.  

My fingertips closed on her nipples, squeezed not so gently this time, and then I rolled them.  Shelia gasped.

“Oh God, yessss…now pull.”

I did and when Sheila slammed her pussy lips down over my cock, I met them as I was pushing up with my hips.  Sheila groaned.

“Again…harder.”

Though I couldn’t really see them, I know Sheila’s breasts went from soft and round to long and pointed when I pulled her nipples up and out.  She cried out,  “I…I’m….oh God…now” and I felt the muscles just inside her entrance begin contacting and relaxing around my stroking cock.  When Sheila’s hips began rocking uncontrollably over my shaft, I couldn’t hold back any longer.  The surge of cum flew out of my cock head and Sheila had me so deep inside her, my next stroke pumped it back around my cock along with the flood of wetness that I felt just as my cock bottomed out.  Sheila was still shaking, and her muscles were still squeezing my cock when I’d shot the last spurt inside her.  She eased down on my chest, panting, as I continued to stoke in and out of her pussy.  

The heartbeat I felt through her soft breasts went from racing to throbbing to a steady thump as the contractions in her pussy became further and further apart.  When I’d feel her passage tighten around my cock, Sheila would kind of purr and press her body down to push my cock deeper.  After a while there were no more contractions, just her warmth around my softening cock and the softness of her breasts on my chest and her ass cheeks in my hands.  Sheila raised up and kissed me, then nestled her face back on my shoulder.  She breathed in deeply.

“Sam…thank you.”

I chuckled.

“I think I’m the one who should be thanking you.”

“You don’t understand do you?  I guess you couldn’t, because I haven’t told you anything.”

As we lay there together in the dim light from the neon sign coming through the camper window, she told me.  I can’t tell you everything she said.  If people knew, or even suspected…well, let’s just say it would be a really bad for her.

“I’m just his decoration, Sam.  He has a mistress.  He doesn’t even try to hide her from me, but he’s very careful to hide her from everybody else.  She’s twenty-two, has red hair, silicone boobs he paid for, and will do anything he asks.  Funny, but I used be like her.  I’d do anything then too.  That stopped when we got married.  I’d still do those things if he wanted me to.   He doesn’t though.  He says I’m too old now.

“I don’t feel old except when I’m around him.  That’s why I came here.  The guys hitting on me made me feel young, but they were a little too forward.”

Sheila chuckled.

“I’m not used to being asked if I’d like to be fucked until I pass out.  Doesn’t seem like much fun to pass out just when things are getting good.

“You didn’t do anything but buy me a drink and tell me I’m pretty.  I liked that…a lot.”

It was my turn to chuckle.

“I did ask you if you wanted to test my springs.”

“Yes, but you were joking.  Your springs are very good, by the way.”

Sheila kissed my shoulder.  

“Tonight, I hoped you wouldn’t be joking.  I’m so happy you weren’t.”

“Why my camper?  We could have gone to my place or to a hotel.”

Sheila giggled.

“I wanted to know if it felt different in your camper.”

She nibbled my earlobe.

“I think I want to feel it again, too.”

About midnight, I put Sheila in her car and watched her taillights as she drove out of the parking lot.  I knew she’d be back.  She told me she would and she didn’t disappoint me.  Sheila usually walks into Waverly West about eight, every other Saturday night.  She’s changed from skirts, dresses and heels to tight jeans, snug fitting button-up shirts and boots.  They’re easier to get her out of when we go out to my camper.  That’s good, because she’s always in a hurry.  I guess two weeks is a long time for her.  I know it’s a long time for me.

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