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Even Stevens: Bending Over Backwards And Forwards For A Birthday Gift Part 3
(ff,f-mast,messy,exhib,grope,splosh,voy)
by Dimes N. Nickels (be_kind_to_stasiak@yahoo.com)

Despite modelling tangled sun-dried hair and wearing an apple-skin explosion
of blush on her cheeks for the past eight minutes, Ruby's first inkling to
"freshen up" came when she tried to sneak past the resident mother of the
Stevens' household on her way out the front door. The bathroom was only a few
doors down from Ren's room, and Donnie had it packed with enough hairspray,
shampoo and makeup to fill an upscale salon. It would have taken four minutes
to comb, wash, and reapply. Instead it took ten minutes for Eileen Stevens to
interrogate the teenager into frustration.

"Ruby, it sounds like you two were really involved up there. Tell me again
what you were studying?" Mrs. Stevens asked as she closed the portion of the
door which Ruby had successfully pulled open.

"Math, Mrs. Stevens," Ruby answered, leaving one hand on the golden doorknob.

Ruby saw her reflection in the fingerprint-smeared knob. Even though it was
a distorted image with her face elongated and her mouth unidentifiable, she
still could see the walls of the house that jailed her clearly. Each side
was a whitish hue mixed with a peach tone. However, through a window on her
right, a vibrant, sunny day bled through. The sky was blue. It was as blue
as the walls of Ren's room.

"Math, huh? Because I could hear you two studying. In fact the whole
neighborhood could hear you two studying, because Ren's window was completely
open."

"Well, Mrs. Stevens, it got really hot in that room. Very, very sweaty."

"Oh I can tell, is that a new look for you?" Mrs. Stevens said with a hand on
her watermelon hips, and her burning red hair shooting out of her scalp.

"Just something I did spur of the moment."

"Yes, ah, Ruby, does this mean you won't be joining us for dinner?"

"I would, Mrs. Stevens, but I have another dinner engagement."

"That's funny, because I could have sworn you just ate."

"Mrs. Stevens, I... I... I..."

"Ruby, before-meal snacks are forbidden in this house. That includes cookies,
potato chips, and if you so happen to miss the dish and get the carpet, that
too is not allowed."

"Mrs. Stevens, look, it's not what you think. You see Ren needed help with a
gift for Bobby, whose been getting hit on by this other girl, and I told her
I'd help anyway I cou..."

"I'm a very public person, Ruby. There are certain things that I cannot
permit to occur to my family. Their reputations are my reputation. And,
your personal life too, will be known, if a camera just so happens to be
positioned outside a carelessly opened window by some paparazzi."

"Mrs. Stevens, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to jeopardize your career."

"Ruby, I'm trying to scare you so you'll listen. I'm not doing this just
for me, but for Ren and you too. You're young, and you're trying different
things. That's not what I'm worried about. It's the consequences I'm worried
about."

"I understand, Mrs. Stevens," Ruby answered, as she sunk her chin to her
chest, and puffed out her bottom lip.

"Oh, don't be like that. You were always like the second daughter I never
had. You know that. Give me a hug," Mrs. Stevens said, stretching her arms
apart and finally removing her hand from the door.

Mrs. Stevens' arms wrapped around Ruby's body. Even though the previous
discussion had kept Ruby on her feet, those same feet would soon ascend off
the floor. Mrs. Stevens' enlarged belly punctured and pressed up against
Ruby's slender frame. Ruby moved her arms around the woman's back, as she
felt the mother's sweater prance upon her fingertips. However, while Ruby's
hands stayed above the midsection, Mrs. Stevens' grip lowered to Ruby's
skirt. As with any proper hug, the two pushed together. As with any improper
touch, Mrs. Stevens squeezed Ruby's behind as if it was made of Charmin
toilet paper.

It was a thorough enough touch for Ruby to determine that it was performed
to detect an undergarment. And from cheek to cheek, the search came up empty.
The blonde thought about telling Mrs. Stevens to quit, but if it didn't stop
all those people from feeling toilet paper, it wouldn't stop an aggressive
woman (who had countless pounds on her) from feeling-up a teenager.

The touch of those palms stayed with Ruby even after she unequipped Mrs.
Stevens, left the house, and was sitting on the first floor of the Sacramento
mall. Even with her ass on a feathery booth cushion and sitting opposite her
friend Monique, she kept looking below her just in case another pair of hands
would creep up on her round assets.

"You know, Ruby, you never told me why you look like that," Monique asked, as
she showered her lightly-browned toast with sugar. "I thought you said you
came from Ren's house, not a sauna."

"Monique, Ren's room is like a sauna. It's sweltering," Ruby shouted, trying
to be heard over the crowd in the mall which was filtering in to Your Toast.

"Well, next time, I wouldn't ask for Stevie Wonder to be the be the one to
perform your celebrity makeover."

"Hey don't be mad, Ms. Thang, that I can do this to myself and still look
better than you."

"Oh, is that certain?"

"That's certain," Ruby said with a smile, singling an end to the
psuedo-argument, and welcoming a pair of giggles from both girls.

As soon as they were about to return to their hearty dinner of
sugar-encrusted bread and the syrup which flowed off the edges of the crust,
Ruby lost her appetite. A man with black-rim, coke-bottle glasses, a line of
a mustache, and hair so greasy that it could boil fries waltzed up to the
booth and focused his attention on the blonde. Ruby's Choco-Chocolate Crunch
Toast suddenly had no affect on her grumbling stomach.

"Well, hello, Nor-man," Ruby said, rolling her eyes and stretching out her
jaw.

"That's Mr. Squirelli to you, Ruby Men-del," he squeaked, looking
uncomfortable in beige overalls.

"I'm not on duty, Norman. But if you don't find Norman acceptable, I have a
few other names for you," Ruby explained, raising an eyelash and crossing her
arms.

"To be fair, you working looks so similar to when you're not working that I
couldn't possibly be expected to know the difference."

"Then why don't you fire me, Norman?"

"Oh, Mendel, why don't you tell me about all the time you devote to
smooching and not to working? People say you put on quite the show with the
male customers during your breaks."

"You know, Norman, you're on thin ice with the management. I'd hate for
harassment to be added to the list of offenses."

"I got my eye on you, Ms. Mendel," Mr. Squirelli threatened, as he tensed up
and waddled out of the view of the booth, pushing customers out of the way
and hollering for his new trainee to do something demeaning.

"Lover's quarrel?" Monique asked, as her dark skin captured the above lights,
and gave an extra accessory to her outfit of jeans and tugging white top.

"He wishes. That's my boss. If I didn't get such a discount, I sure wouldn't
eat here."

"He seems a little, how you say, like he has a stick up his you-know-what."

"He's a little perv. Just last week, Ren tripped and dropped a tray full of
condiments. So, she's bent over, getting it all wiped up and so forth. I'm
helping her pick up all this junk, when I look up and Norman's just staring
at Ren's rear with his mouth opened and drooling. He runs off to his office,
and five minutes later he returns with his trousers on backwards."

"What a sad fellow. You should give him a kiss, you know a break, or
something."

"Well, not when I'm working. I'm the one who'd have to wipe it up."

"So is the curse of working part-time. Well, we better leave soon if we
want to catch the sale at W.E.R. Expensive. I think it's only running for
anotherfifteen minutes."

"Oh, that's right, should we leave now?"

"I have to make a stop at the little girl's room, I think it'd be in your
best interest to join me."

"Monique, there ain't enough in our bags to help me out."

"Well, suit yourself," Monique said as she scooted out of the booth. "I'll
be back in a few shakes of a lamb's tail."

"Have fun," Ruby suggested as she watched Monique head towards the bathrooms
until she lost sight of her and the perky girl became just another face in
the crowd.

With a few more bites remaining in her toast, Ruby sought out the syrup
again. As she squished the squeezeable container, the fluid inside was too
thick to pour out of the v-shaped hole. She shook it, and eventually patted
the bottom of the purple plastic. In what was becoming the theme of the day,
Ruby smeared another substance on herself, as the syrup shot out of the
container and landed in the middle of her skirt.

Ruby grabbed a few napkins from the dispenser, sighed, and tried to flick the
remaining residue from her clothing. But, as the wiping grew in pressure, and
the frustration of the day mounted in each swipe, the act slowly turned more
aggressive. Though there had been a little release over at Ren's house, Ruby
had gathered enough excitement through the mailman, Ren, and Ren's mother for
her to feel an orgasm lodged in her body. Just the tinkering of her vagina
through her clothes caused her to raise both legs up on the booth and tease
herself with the thought of masturbating.

She looked up, and glanced from one corner of the diner to the next. Though
there was a bit of hesitation originating from the danger of what she was
attempting, most of the customers seemed too consumed with their own
conversations to worry about any one else. When a woman dropped her bag, and
a group of compact discs rattled across the floor, no one bothered to help
the woman pick them up, and some even stepped on the contents. 'If that
could be overlooked by the public, then no one will even look my way,' Ruby
thought. So before inserting the object, Ruby took a deep breath, and
wondered how touching herself here would be any different than when her skirt
flapped in the air an hour before. It wasn't like it was anything new.

Her fingers, usually suitable for similar activities, were inadequate when
compared to the larger object that her fingers were clutching. Ruby licked
her lips, found them dry, and then lunged forward to the straw poking out
of her soda. As she sucked the diet cola into her mouth, and forgot about
swallowing, Ruby moved the plastic syrup container under the table to the
space beneath her skirt. The round object ran along the edges of her pussy
lips, and combed the peach fuzz.

She rested her head on the back of the booth, as the commotion of the
fast-food joint evaporated into a mumble. There were people around her, in
clear view, who only needed to shoot a quick glance under the table to see
what was happening. The group of rowdy high-school basketball players had
the opportunity. A single mother around the age of twenty-five with her
six-year old son snacking for supper would be forced to issue the "talk"
if they glanced towards her. And Mr. Squirelli, with all the times he
"borrowed" the surveillance video of Ruby and Ren working, wouldn't have to
imagine anymore if only he'd look away from the cash register.

However, they all took a back-seat to the sound of Ren ringing in Ruby's
orgasm. It was those brown eyes of Ren's that Ruby could see when she closed
her own eyes. Those hazel peepers were transfixed on her own, as if Ruby was
being pulled forward without an escape. Her first word while being stuck in
the desire-induced haze was one syllable and three letters: "Ren." It fell
quickly off her lips, but was repeated time and time again.

The syrup container pushed through the flash-petals between Ruby's legs. It
accommodated the size, pulling the lips apart and probing inside. The sweat
from her hands had moistened the plastic to such a point that it was slippery
enough to glide in. This did not hinder the vibration that was sent through
her system, as could be seen by her knee jerking up and hitting the table. A
few ripples were sent through her soda as a result.

The once-chilled cola inside of Ruby's mouth had mixed with her warm saliva.
Ruby's concoction of fluids splashed from one side to another, and sneaked
between each tooth. At this point, the majority of Ruby's moans had consisted
of closed-mouth "mmmmms" and swift "hmppps." Her cherry lips, smeared with
equally bright lipstick, never moved from their position. If there was one
thing Ruby knew from her rapid-fire dating techniques, it was that nothing
lasts forever. Even though Ruby received great happiness from swishing the
sweet calorie-reduced drink in her mouth, she still enjoyed the feeling of
it drizzling past her bottom lip and down her chin when the syrup container
reached a rather sensitive area and she had to open her mouth to verbally
express the pleasure.

That moan may have been the loudest shout by far, but it was still covered by
the blanket of sound reverberating through the crowded mall. The soda escaped
from the bottom of her chin, where it soaked into her shirt. Under the warm
lights, it would dry in the shape of a deformed heart.

Just below the heart stain was the bulge of her breasts. Ruby used her
unoccupied hand to journey beneath her shirt. Her skin felt as though it was
layered with suds from a bubble bath. The palm slipped to her belly button,
where she probed the hole with her pinkie. Sensitivity filled the center, and
Ruby gyrated off the seat and arched her back. Her fingers crawled north. She
sucked in her stomach, and as she did so, she could feel her ribcage push
forward, and tighten around her skin.

Her nipples were erect like centuries-old trees. Each time the fabric of her
white cotton bra would move slightly, it would rub on the mounds and just
make matters worse. She wanted to pull it off and tease them while her tongue
sunk into Ren's ass. But now, with Ruby dunking the syrup container into her
own honey pot, that want turned to a need, and by exploiting one of her own
unique talents, she loosened a strap and pulled her bra down with one hand
under her clothing. While the bra was still gathered in a clump under her
shirt, her objective had been met. Those nipples which pointed to the sky,
were no longer trapped and the pinching began.

A few tables in front of Ruby sat the group of basketball jocks, wearing
their team colors in letter jackets and scarfing down "nutrients" after
practice. Their diversion from a conversation about that year's defense
came suddenly. One of the boys peeked over to the far table, noticed a
girl with one hand under her shirt and another hand hidden under the table,
and motioned for the other guys to look along with him. A plate fell from
the hands of one of the teammates, broke, and ushered the owner to inspect
the destruction.

Mr. Squirelli departed quickly from yelling at one of the new recruits at
Your Toast to the crash. With his visor hat positioned backwards, and his
glasses at a slant, he cursed himself for the day he was having. 'If one
more baby screams, spits up, if one more guy makes fun of my uniform, or
I get threatened with sexual harassment one more time, I'm quitting! I
can't remember the last good thing to happen to me because of this horrible
job!'

He approached the table and threw his arms up at the sight of a Very Vanilla
Toast stack now a series of crumbs and unattached crusts. Because the vanilla
they used was a substance that was more like glue, it would need the bucket
of soap, and added scrubbing to get it clean. He shook his head, and was
about to scream for the rookie toaster to mop up the mess when he looked up
and followed the basketball star's attention.

And suddenly, Mr. Squirelli was happy that he never went to college and
decided instead to pursue a career in the food-service industry.

"Isn't that 49's girlfriend? He told me once that he always caught her
touching herself, and that she's not scared about going to the back seat.
What's her name? It's it's..." one of the guys stuttered.

"Ruby Mendel," Mr. Squirelli said in a hush, as he stared forward.

His hands shook. He couldn't think straight. Ruby Mendel was the one of the
girls he always harbored a crush for (which explained her promotions). He
was always hardest on Ruby because she was the type of girl who never paid
attention to him. And a date between the opposites was certainly out of the
question. How her eyes sparkled when she gossiped with her friends, and how
her laugh would fill the room were just outside observations by Mr.
Squirelli. Her laugh was never for Norman. Her smile was never for Norman.
She never included him.

Nonetheless, whether she knew it or not, Ruby was including Mr. Squirelli in
each thrust of the syrup container. Once he had tried to give Ruby flowers
(roses, in fact) but she came to work bragging about her new boyfriend, and
the flowers were thrown in the garbage. As usual, he yelled at her for not
being on time, and once again, their relationship remained uneasy and
separate.

As separate as their relationship had been, Norman and Ruby were now sharing
as intimate a moment as he could have ever realistically dreamt.

However, he was sharing it along with the basketball team and a six year-old
boy (whose mother was too busy jabbing on her cell-phone to notice otherwise).

Ruby inadvertently kneed the table a second time, and caused her soda to
create a river that dispensed onto her skirt. Her hand grouped her left
breast, at first pinching and rolling the nipple between two fingers, and
then grabbing the entire half-circle when her hand took the initiative. She
hiked herself up by leaning against the back of the booth, which allowed
her skirt to move away from her ass. When she dropped back down, her warm
butt collided with the cold plastic covering.

"Ren! Oh, Ren," Ruby sang to herself. "I love it when you wear a strap-on!"

Her head banged against the booth, causing the entire row of seats to move
several inches backwards. In her mind, she could see Ren laying on top of
her. Their breasts rubbing up against each other, turning their respective
B-cups into a size that any bra would be unable to hold. Ren's hazel hair
would drop from behind her ear, and Ruby would tuck it back, grin a
contagious grin, and repeatedly whispered "I love you, Ren Stevens" until
the words came to be expected. Ren's thighs would smother her friend's, as
the strap-on shoved past the blonde fur and found its place between Ruby's
legs. By staring into her friend's glossy brown eyes, Ruby could see herself
in the reflection of Ren's pupil. Ruby's two rows of teeth clattered
together, and a tear trudged down her cheek.

All the boys she made out with in dark theaters were never enough. It was Ren
who she wanted to cup her breast, and suck on her maroon nipple. It was Ren
who she wanted to be leaned up against as intervals of moaning cheered them
on. She wanted Ren to mount her, and send the eight-inch fake cock into the
one gift that she would give Ren, regardless if she was born on that day
sixteen years before. And when Ren was ready, Ruby could float over to her
stomach for another gift exchange.

With the thought of Ren kissing her cheek to drink that loose tear, while
another thrust dug into her pussy, Ruby shoved the syrup container into
herself again and finally orgasmed. The previews that were presented in
Ren's room about a half-an-hour before came to fruition as she felt her
stomach tense up, and her pussy clamp around the container. Her left hand
tugged at her tits, while her right squeezed the container full of thick
raspberry fluid. It shot to the other side of the floor and to the seat
across from her. It stuck to what was vertical, and oozed down, leaving a
rash of fruit-flavor in its wake.

As the feeling subsided, Ruby sunk down the seat, and mouthed "thank you,
Ren." She pulled her hand from under her shirt and ran her fingers through
her hair. The other hand took the purple syrup container out of her personal
pink cavern. Its bottom was coated with her own sweet topping. Instead of
bothering to place it back on the table, she let it fell, where it rolled
down the floor to the feet of Mr. Squirelli. She reopened her eyes, gathered
herself and assessed her surroundings. Her breathing was uncontrollable, as
her lungs would not allow any deep breaths, but she couldn't survive on any
short ones. Even though she had just rode through a self-appointed release,
Ruby had said little above a whisper, and though it felt like an hour had
transpired, the entire incident lasted no more than two minutes.

While this kept most of the customers at Your Toast clueless, five pairs of
eyes could attest to the entire show. Ruby spotted the basketball players
first, and then saw the young child (who was pale in the face). Any regrets
for masturbating in public, Ruby thought, could never match introducing a boy
(who was the age of her nephew) to a biology class full of the workings of a
woman. But when she saw Mr. Squirelli with his mouth open, and the stillest
she ever saw him, Ruby knew she regretted showcasing her muff to him more
than to any little boy.

Monique pranced out of the bathroom, wearing a fresh coat of blush and her
night-sky hair pulled back. As she passed Mr. Squirelli, the basketball
team, and the young boy, she looked at them and scrunched her brow. When she
arrived back at the table to see Ruby even filthier and stickier than before,
she could only ask one question.

"Did I miss something?"

"Nothing to write home about," Ruby answered as she grabbed her backpack.
"Off to W.E.R. Expensive?"

"I'm not sure they'll let you in looking like that," Monique said as she
surveyed the diner, while wiggling her nose. "What smells so funky? It smells
like your bedroom in here."

"I don't smell anything, and besides, they'll let me in. After all, I got
my mother's credit card and I'm obviously in desperate need for some new
clothes. They'll eat me up in a place like that."

"I suppose so," Monique said. "Hey, you spilled your soda."

Ruby slid down the booth, and once able to stand, brushed herself off and
glowed as she smiled.

"Yeah, you're right. Hey Norman!" Ruby said as she began to walk towards Mr.
Squirelli. "Better clean that up."

As Ruby passed him, and her legs divided up the duty of walking out the
establishment, she patted him on the head. Though the grease stuck to her
hand, she left a little of her own juices in his hair.

The spilled soda, the female-cum spot left behind on the seat, and the syrup
drying on the floor were compliments of the girl laughing as she turned left
into the mall with her friend. While those were the clear examples of the
mess Ruby caused, the other one wasn't so easy to see.

And because of it, Mr. Squirelli wished he had brought a second pair of
underwear to work.

(To be continued in part four)

    

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