She folded her arms across her breasts, a black bikini and sarong her best attempt of the day to dress thus far, and gazed out across the plants that now seemed so certain to hold her future, what may literally become the fruits of her endeavours. Her ocean blue eyes scanned the plants, but her mind didn't register the sight, lost as it was in trying to find some sense and order amongst the turmoil that her parents' sudden deaths had added to her own increasing uncertainty about herself.
Kate sat down on a thickly padded seat beneath a large umbrella, crossed her beautiful legs and sighed heavily, still somewhat shocked at the speed with which her life had changed. At twenty-eight she was by no means a child and nor was she stupid. She had graduated college with business and accountancy qualifications but had been keen to get away from what she had then seen as an over-idyllic life that her parents had lived
.Joining the working rat race in San Francisco's city streets she had made a living in the tourist trade, working for one of the many companies that organised bus trips from Union Square and boat trips from Pier Thirty-Nine, catering for the endless desire of tourists to travel over or under, or even both, the famous Golden Gate Bridge, and to other attractions of which there were many. In the world of sales and promotions, her rise up the career ladder had been swift and her earnings had paid for a comfortable lifestyle. Kate had worked hard but she had played hard too.
She loved a good party and knew a good wine when she drank one. She enjoyed the company of men and women, good music and good times. She'd never been promiscuous though, largely because her experiences had never been that great. Sex had always left her feeling a little let down. Her girlfriends had all spoken of amazing times with guys and the things they'd done, and whilst she'd done similar, she never did get the buzz that they seemed to have. In fact, the experiences of a relatively new friend Sharon, an openly bisexual girl, had been of greater interest to her latterly and that's when her self-doubts had set in.
Somewhere along the line during this time she had become closer to her parents, closer than ever. Her 'go to' people had always been her Mom and Dad, but never more so than after she'd left home. Her Dad, a non-judgmental and wise counsel, had advised on such things as banking and buying a home that would also be an investment, and her Mom had been the best friend that any girl could have dreamed of, the ultimate 'go to' for all other practical, and emotional, matters. They had visited the city every other month for business and shopping respectively, and she'd grown to look forward to those times and to treasure them. Suddenly their 'over-idyllic' life hadn't seemed that at all, they were just so much in tune with each other and still so much in love, living their dreams together every day whilst still looking out for their only child.
It had been to her mother that she'd broached the subject that had worried her the most, that of her own sexuality. Brought up conventionally she had always expected, and been expected she felt, to meet a man, 'the one', and settle down someday, though having kids of her own had never really appealed, despite her own happy childhood. In truth she had found herself increasingly attracted to women, and increasingly resisting it whilst going through the motions with the odd man here and there, unsatisfactorily.
She never had slept with a woman, though she had been quite close to doing so once with Sharon. It had been unplanned, just one of those moments that can happen. She had baulked at the last minute, afraid that she wouldn't enjoy it, or perhaps that she would. Her mother had advised her that what she ought to do was to sleep with a woman, and see how she felt about things afterwards, that it might be something that she needed to do and move on from, or to do because that was how she was meant to be. She'd been typically unfazed and non-judgmental about it, had told Kate that it wouldn't change a thing between them, why should it?
Kate hadn't wanted her father to know, and whilst her mother had assured her that he wouldn't find out from her, she had also told her daughter that the only thing that could possibly ever upset him about her was the thought that she was unhappy, everything and anything else he would embrace as warmly as he physically embraced her. They had left, and Kate had felt for the first time a little reassured, though still far from clear in her own mind. Her parents had never made it home, dying together at the scene of a car wreck that hadn't been their fault.
Now, just a few months on, her San Francisco life was behind her and she'd come home to take over the family business, her inheritance. She didn't know how to make wine or how to sell it, her Dad had always made it and her Mom had always sold it, which only added to her personal insecurities, though she had no doubt that she could run the business side of things.
Kate needed help and advice more than ever, but her 'go to' people now lay together in the graveyard. She was on her own and feeling the weight of loneliness, and very much aware that her decisions would determine her fate, personally and in business.
When her parents had bought Golden Hills Winery from the Crocetti family, it had been most renowned for its Zinfandel, but its owners had never quite managed to get the awards for it that they had coveted. Nor had her father. Now, like the winery itself, that dream had been bequeathed to her. It was perhaps even her destiny, having been conceived amongst the vines in her parents' first year of ownership, the best thing that the winery had ever produced according to them.
Kate let out another sigh, brushed away her tears and stood up, and headed into the house to get dressed for the meetings that would start a new era at the winery. There was no more time for procrastination, and her personal issues would just have to wait.
Doug Ramone ordered a beer in the small bar that had become a regular haunt for him, away from his home and work, where he could indulge himself when opportunity arose, whatever that opportunity might be.
Succinctly put, Doug Ramone was not a nice man. Born Douglas O'Shay he had grown up in New York the son of a long line of immigrants from Ireland and an American mother. His father had been a cop, his mother a lawyer, and they'd had three children. His two older sisters had grown up to become nurses, and the family had been looked up to in their community as decent, upstanding folk.
There was a bad apple in every barrel though, and Doug was theirs. He'd been trouble from the moment he'd started walking. Being the son of a cop and a lawyer he had rebelled big time, and had resisted all attempts to set him straight. He had run drugs for a dealer from the age of twelve and stolen cars to order from the age of fourteen. He'd only avoided the youth detention halls because of his family's legal connections. When he'd muscled out in his later teenage years he'd been a heavy for a number of loan sharks.
Still his parents had tried to put him right, but by then they were beginning to realise that Doug simply didn't want to be put right. By the age of twenty-one he'd had a small stable of girls on the street earning him good money and was dealing drugs in his own right as well as running a fencing operation for a well organised group of thieves and pick-pockets.
His father had done the last thing he could think of to help his son. He'd had him busted, and he'd spent five years inside, every minute of it seething with anger and hate. While he was inside, his parents had retired. When he got out, he visited them intent on getting even, but his father had been a sick man and his mother the shell of the woman who had tried so hard to raise him right. It was the only time in his life that Doug had ever felt compassion. He'd let them be and moved on, returning to his criminal ways as he moved from city to city, and hadn't so much as given them a passing thought since.
By the time he'd reached his early thirties he'd committed crimes that he knew he could fry for in certain states. He'd reinvented himself as Doug Ramone, complete with all the documents, and had tried to find a life that would afford some of the thrills that he needed but with less risks. He didn't want to go to jail again, yet still dreamed of that one big scam that would earn him the pot of gold he dreamed of.
He'd drifted into San Francisco and had made an enjoyable, for him, living as a conman. He'd targeted wealthy, vulnerable women, widows mostly, and had the dual pleasures of fucking them and fucking them over. He'd had that 'bad boy' appeal, a good physique and a big cock. It had been easy, for a time, until stories got out and women became more suspicious of the motives of possible suitors.
He could have, at that point, had a decent sum tucked away and simply given it up, but he hadn't been smart enough to save for the future. He'd left the city intent on lying low for a while, and had ended up taking a picker's job at the Golden Hills Winery. Oddly, he'd enjoyed the work and had taken an interest in the whole process of making wine, and Matt Connor had taken him under his wing and taught him what he knew. Doug Ramone had become a full time employee, finding ways away from the winery to make extra money, as well as selling on the odd case here and there that he stole without remorse.
He'd also enjoyed Matt and his beautiful blonde wife's other activities. Matt and Kayleigh had both been into outdoors sex, and he'd watched many times over the years, had often lusted after the wife himself but had been smart enough to recognise that he wouldn't stand a chance with her, not with Matt constantly around anyway. He'd filed away details of their activities though, together with some hot photographs and one particularly memorable video, just in case an opportunity arose to use them.
Now he found himself in a very promising position. Matt and Kayleigh had been killed in a car wreck and their daughter Kate, a very tasty looking blonde just like her Mom, had come back to the family home to run the business. Better yet, she didn't know the wine business and would need a manager, and the rumour was that now that she had completed going over all the books and records that she would be appointing two managers, one for production and one for sales. He reckoned he had a chance. He was in his early forties now, knew his job well, and nobody spoke ill of him at the winery.
If he got the production job, he'd use his position and her lack of knowledge to ingratiate himself with Kate, maybe get himself a bit of the classy pussy that he'd missed out on with her Mom if things went well, and if very well that golden pay check he'd always dreamed of, in the form of ownership of a top winery. And he'd enjoy her, with her long blond hair and sexy legs, narrow waist and tight ass, and those beautiful tits! They weren't too big or too small, just right for her frame and they looked good and firm, a decent handful just like her Mom's. He wondered if her nipples were as long as her Mom's, they'd always amazed him, and whether she could throat a cock like her Mom could.
Meantime, he would also have the authority to lean on that little Mexican hottie who did the paperwork relating to inventory and shipping. She was young and had a baby, he'd discovered, a single Mom. She had a good job and wouldn't want to lose it. He could make her his bitch and get her to make her record keeping a little more creative, allowing him to do some sales of his own.
If he didn't get it, he'd simply blackmail Kate with the pictures and video of her beloved parents, take a decent pay-off and quit the wine business. Whatever happened he just couldn't lose, he'd never been onto a surer thing!
Things were looking up for Doug Ramone, at least to his way of thinking, and he couldn't suppress a grin as he ordered another beer in the little bar. His grin caught the attention of a woman opposite who saw something that she liked in it, though she wasn't sober enough to make a proper judgement. She smiled back, flexing her shoulders to accentuate the curves beneath her low cut top.
Doug saw her response and asked the barman what she was drinking, added her drink to his order, paid for it and went to join her. She was about his age and wasn't bad looking with pretty blue eyes, short dark hair and a great set of tits. The wedding ring on her finger didn't deter him, and the fact that she was in that sort of bar on her own told him it shouldn't. She was looking. She'd found.
"Hi, I'm Doug," he introduced himself, "Got you a drink."
"Thanks Doug," she smiled, "You sitting down or just passing?" She took the drink from him and sipped at it. It was what she'd been drinking before but way stronger. Whatever! She only had her husband to go home to and he wouldn't care if she turned up a little tipsy. Again. If he did he would stop her going out with her friends all the time, though they'd all gone home to their men already. She would have too, normally, but she just hadn't wanted to, not yet.
Doug sat down next to her, "And what's your name, Sexy?" he asked, glancing down to check the rest of her out. Beneath the table her skirt was short, her legs long and her heels sky high. She wasn't slim, but not exactly obese either, just at the starting-to-let-go stage in a marriage that wasn't unhappy, just boring. He wondered what her husband was like, then realised he didn't give a shit and grinned again.
She smiled like he'd just written her a million dollar cheque, "I'm Tina," she told him, liking his hard looks and his super-confident manner. She thought that this man would really know how to fuck a woman, and knowing that she very much wanted to be that woman. Her nipples started to stiffen and her pussy tingled at the thought.
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Tina," he said, then leaned in to her and kissed her on the lips. She didn't pull away, so he slipped her some tongue and she started kissing him back, the tingling between her legs becoming an urgent pulse as surely her panties became damp.
When he pulled back there was a rose blush at her throat and she was breathless, "Shall we take our drinks outside?" he asked, "It's a lovely night."
"Do you think I'm easy?" she asked, already rising to her feet and not noticing his hand on her arm that steadied her.
"No, of course not," he answered, pulling her closer as they left the table and headed outside, and whispering hotly into her ear, "You've just found what you wanted!"
He led her to a picnic table at the far end of the deserted garden that was almost lost to the eye in the shadow of trees until you were right on top of it. He sat on the tabletop with his boots on the bench seat and she copied him. His hand went immediately to her thigh, warm and smooth, and his fingers swirled gently against her skin.
"And what is it that I wanted?" she asked him huskily, adding with a grin, "Mr. Know-It-All?" but without any malice.
"A damned good fucking," he answered, tossing his empty glass onto the grass and raising his free hand to her tits, then kissed her again. Again she kissed him back, her bag slipping from her shoulder onto the table, her glass clutched in her hand.
When he pulled away, once more breathless, she asked him, "And you're going to fuck me right here are you?" Her heart was pounding and her panties were sodden, her nipples like bullets beneath her bra. She didn't even notice that her blouse was open where he'd undone the buttons. She drained her glass.
"Yep, just as soon as you take your panties off and unhook that bra," he grinned.
"Show me what I'm getting first," she grinned back, ignoring a little voice in her head that was telling her to get the fuck out of there and go home. This was the excitement that she wanted, the thrill that her husband couldn't give her.
"Sure," he smiled. He dropped his pants and let his rapidly flooding cock move into her view.
"Fuck, that's one hell of a cock!" she whispered.
"All yours, Sexy, just get your kit off!" he said. She unclipped the catch of her bra, to his delight at the front between her heavy globes, but left the cups in place, then she shuffled around until her panties were dangling from one ankle.
"All yours, Stud!" she purred, tossing her own glass onto the grass.
He reached out and tugged her bra open. Her large soft breasts, nipples straining in full flood, spilled out into his hands. As he caressed them roughly her eyes flickered closed and her hand reached out to encircle his thick shaft and take up a steady, gentle stroking motion, excited by the thick, velvety feel of it, the strangeness of a cock other than her husband's for the first time in twenty years.
He spun her around on her ass so that she was facing the end of the table and moved between her thighs, leaning forward to kiss her hot and hard, his hand in her hair. She kissed him back greedily until he broke off and licked her neck, whispering, "You want a real fuck don't you, Bitch?"
"Oh god, yeah, fuck me good, Baby, fuck me good," she answered.
He leaned back and placed his hands on her shoulders and shoved her back onto the table. She gasped as he lifted her legs onto his shoulders, grabbed her thighs and shoved the full length of himself deeply into her pussy. Then he grabbed her tits again, squeezing the nipples hard.
"Like it rough do you, Bitch?" he asked, pinching her nipples again as he ground himself against her.
"Oh god," she whimpered again, "Fuck me!"
He gripped her hips and fucked her, hard and deep, enough to lift her ass off the table at every thrust. Picking up speed, the sound of their bodies slapping together rhythmically soon accompanied them. There was no finesse, nor even a pretence of any. He fucked her hard and she writhed in pleasure, pleasure that consumed her enough that she didn't care where she was, who might be watching or that she had a husband to go home to. She gripped the table top with both hands and held on as he nailed her, his fingers occasionally pinching a nipple, his thumb sometimes mashing against her swollen clit making her back arch as if he'd electrocuted her.
The tapping of her wedding ring against the wood finally made sense to her, just before her climax ripped through her like a buzz saw and she cried out with it as he continued to thrust into her savagely, seemingly getting harder and faster. Then he stopped suddenly, his cock jammed into her to the hilt and she felt him flooding her with his own release as he grunted loudly.
"Now," he panted, "That's a fuck, Baby!"
"Oh god, oh god," she whimpered.
"Take that home to your old man!" he told her, pulling himself from her and wiping himself on her skirt before tugging up his pants, "I might catch you next time you're here, thanks for the fuck," he grinned, and then simply walked away, leaving her with her legs spread, her heaving breasts exposed and his cum starting to trickle from her ravished sex.
"Oh god," she whimpered again, sitting up and pulling her bra and blouse around herself and trying to get her foot back into her panties, "What have I done?" She felt the hot sting of tears in her eyes but couldn't blame him for them. He'd only given her what she'd wanted, or what she'd thought she'd wanted. She was sobering up so fast she could almost feel it happening. Now she had some fast thinking to do.
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