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Sandy Boom-Bots 💋

By Frank Weber

Copyright ©2024


Sandy was a good Italian girl. Well, she was a full-grown Italian woman, but her roots and traditions and a sense of obligation kept her very much a girl. After her mother passed away, she continued to live at home with her father.


She cooked and cleaned for him and took good care of him. She kept her father’s house as though it were her own.

In fact, one day, it would be her own. Her father told her long ago that one day, she would inherit all that he had. That included the house.


It was a cozy, little home, but it was stuck smack-dab in the center of a not-so-good neighborhood. It used to be a good neighborhood – an Italian neighborhood – but not so much anymore.


To top it all off, they lived directly across the street from a seedy, little hole-in-the-wall dive bar.

Once in a while, her father would venture across the street to the bar and have a few drinks with the other old dagos from the neighborhood. They drank and they smoked and they reminisced about the ‘old days’ back when the neighborhood was its own ‘little Italy’.

It made him – and all of them – feel a little better when they went back home for the night and had to listen to bar fights and screams and the occasional gun shots.


Sandy ventured into the bar quite a bit more often than did her father, but she always made sure that he was home first…and had his dinner first…and that all of her expected ‘chores’ had been done first.


But she was lonely. She was thirty-eight years old and she was lonely. The traditional Italian-girl thing was wearing thin on her.


She felt like the world was passing her by further and farther with each day she lived there.

She loved her family and she loved her home and they both needed her.

Still, she felt empty inside and she wanted more. She needed something, too.

She knew there was more for her. There had to be.

So whenever she left the house, she kept her eyes open for it…whatever it might be.

She was not afraid to take it when she found what she wanted.


Then one dark and stormy autumn evening, she wandered across the street and into the bar and there she met Frank.


He was only twenty-two years old, but he looked like he was in his late thirties. That’s all she needed to know. Maybe it was because she was so lonely, but she couldn’t resist the urge.

She wanted ‘some’ And so did he.


He was playing pool with a couple of the other guys in the bar, but she only saw him.

Soon, she put her name up on the board and before she knew it, she was playing pool with him.

It was a little awkward at first, but after a couple racks, they were talking and playing and laughing and drinking like they’d known each other for years.


When she heard the bartender yell, “Last call for alcohol!”, she panicked. She didn’t want this night to ever end. At least not until she got what she wanted first.


Frank could see the look on her face and he comforted her with a hug and kiss on her forehead.

“We don’t have to go home yet. Maybe we can go somewhere else…some place more quiet and private?

She couldn’t control her happiness when she heard those words. Her smile for him was brighter than he had ever seen before. As excited as she was – as so unbelievably turned-on as she was – she could only say, “Ok”


Even though he only just formally met her a few hours ago, Frank already knew her story.

He knew her place was out of the question and a motel in the middle of the night didn’t sound all that safe, so he took her back to his place.


They shook off the rain and the chill and she sat on edge of his couch.

Sandy nervously lit a cigarette to calm herself, but she just could not calm herself.


He put on five “Sounds of the 70’s” CD’s and ran them on shuffle and repeat.

He left one small table lamp on and lit a few candles and a couple sticks of incense.

He held out his hand to her. She girlishly, bashfully smiled at him and took his hand.


He pulled her up to him and held her tight against his body, and they danced.

Slow dances. Slow rhythmic dances. Even slower grinding dances.

He could feel the heat between her legs as she wrapped her legs around his.

She leaned into his kiss and filled his mouth with hers. They swayed and they held each other and they kissed.


He could taste the cigarettes on her tongue, but he didn’t care…her kisses were so deep and so delicious.

He loved the warmth of her breath on his cheek as she ran her tongue over his lips and back into his mouth. He could taste the perfume on the skin of her neck and the scent of her hair intoxicated him.


He pulled her clothes away as they danced, and she let him touch and take whatever he wanted. She wanted him. She wanted to please him.


He led her to his bed and laid her down on her back beneath him.

He laid down with her, half on top of her and he kissed and nibbled on her body and his fingers wandered. She gently grabbed his hair in her fingers and pushed his head down.

He went willingly. He wanted to please her.


She was an old-world woman and she was thicker with hair than he was used to, but she was still so delicious on his tongue. He pushed three fingers inside her as he sucked her and then his little finger slid into her ass. It startled her at first, but she didn’t stop him…she gave into the feeling. She began to wiggle and sway her ass on his fingers and the moans got louder.

Her lust for him intensified.

She cried out, half-delirious, “Turn me over and put it in me! I want you to take me like I’m yours!” He helped her turn over onto her hands and knees. She arched her back and lifted her ass up for him, and he took hold of her hips.


His hands held her hips firmly in front of him, but his penetration was slow and gentle.

A long, slow thrust inside of her.

A long, slow pull out of her, but he never pulled completely out. And again. And again.

He kept their rhythm in a darkened, hazy pulse.

Her body rocked back and forth with his and her nails clawed at the sheets and she bit into his pillow. And her lust for him intensified far beyond control.


She turned around and over from underneath him and pulled him on top of her.

She opened her big, delicate dark brown eyes and said, “I want to look into your eyes when you cum!” He pushed back inside her and he looked down into her eyes, and they never broke their stare. Even when he came, he forced his eyes to stay open so she could see them, and then he filled her body with all he could give her. He looked down on her smiling, blissful face and her eyes were closed, but he could see tears streaming down her cheeks.

She let her emotions run free and wild and she no longer cared what he saw.


She laid there, her head swimming, just relishing the sensation of a steady streaming of droplets running down through her inner thighs. Relishing every thought she could muster of him together with her. She saw an entire life together in those moments in his bed.


He laid with his head on her belly, caressing and gently squeezing her thighs, kissing her soft skin. She ran her fingers through his hair and lovingly stroked his head with her fingertips. Maybe it was the old-world girl in her soul, but she felt herself already beginning to crush on him…maybe even beginning to fall for him.


She smoked a cigarette and then they laid there together with the music playing through the rest of the night, drifting in and out of sleep and consciousness, never moving from the embrace.


When she woke up, she was embarrassed at first, but he did his best to comfort and assure her, and she settled back down into his arms.


It was still dark when Sandy got up and got dressed. She had a coffee and a cigarette and she kept very quiet. But the lovesick, girlish smile never left her face. She held his face in her hand and she tenderly kissed his lips, and said, “Good bye”


She drove back home to cook breakfast for her father before he woke up. She didn’t want to have to explain this to her father…Not yet, anyway. She figured she would explain it on the day she brought Frank home to meet him.


She sang the same sweet love songs from the night before as she cooked and cleaned the house. Her eyes were glazed and she floated when she walked.

Her father knew something was different that morning, but he didn’t ask her about it – he didn’t really want to know. Better to pretend there’s nothing different.


The next night, Sandy was so overly anxious to go out, she could barely contain herself. It was unusual that she would go across the street two nights in a row, but her father didn’t question or protest. He just had a feeling about it.


She was done-up more than she ever had been before. She was leaving nothing to chance. She set out to impress him in every possible way. She wanted Frank to be with her.

Maybe if she was with Frank, she could finally break free from her father. Maybe she could be happy in her own life. Maybe…


Frank was there. He was playing the video bowling game by himself in the corner, drinking down beer after beer, shot after shot, smoking cigar after cigar. He was content to be by himself.

She walked in the door and saw him there alone and her whole body flushed with a wonderful warmth and excitement.

It was a perfect situation, and it was playing out exactly as she had fantasized.

She wanted time alone with him. She wanted to talk with him and learn all about him.

But more than anything, she wanted to make sure that she went home him again that night.


She hugged Frank from behind and stood there resting her face in the center of his back, breathing in his scents of smoke and cologne.


He turned around and held her tight. She held him back tighter. She was so close on him that he couldn’t see anything or anyone around them. He could only see her face and her smile.

He could see her lips purse as she leaned forward to kiss him. He could see her tongue as she licked his lips.


He was hers on this night, too.


They drank and smoked the night away. They danced around the pool table to the jukebox music. After ‘last call’, he took her back to his house.


This night had a different feel to it. They could both sense it. He undressed her and gently laid her back in his bed, and they made love. The intensity grew to a new level for Sandy. Every thought and every word and every touch was still wild and sexual, but now it was all more loving somehow.


He laid there on top of her. He was still inside of her. She looked up into his eyes and she began to cry.


“What’s wrong, Sandy? What did I do?”


“You didn’t do anything, sweetheart. I am just so happy to be with you.”


He wiped away the tears from her cheek and tenderly kissed her closed eyes.


She whispered, “You can do anything you want to do. I’ll do anything you want me to do. Anything.”


Frank didn’t take advantage of her, although at that point, he probably could have.

They made love once more. It was an emotional moment for both of them.


And then she wanted to know more about him.


“I don’t even know your age. I’m thirty-eight and my birthday’s next week. How old are you?”


“I’m twenty-two.”


Sandy froze solid in place. Her face told the story. She was in shock over that one answer. Everything drained out of her in that second. Frank was really confused now.


She screamed out, “Oh my God, I robbed the cradle! You’re just a baby!”


He assured her that he was not a baby, but she wouldn’t listen. Her walls went up in an instant and all of her feelings toward him dissipated just as fast.


“I have to go. I have to get out of here. Oh, my God! What was I thinking? What’s wrong with me? Oh, my God! This is so wrong!”


Frank laid there in his bed watching her frantically dress in front of him. Now she was shaking and sobbing, but nothing he did could console her. It was over. As fast as it began, it was over.


Frank never saw her in the bar again. He never saw her again anywhere.

She always seemed to know when he was around and she stayed away.

He gave up trying and he gave up looking for her. Life moved forward.

He moved to a new apartment and a new neighborhood and he never set foot in the bar again.

A few years later, the bar was closed and remodeled into apartments.

It was all gone.




I never saw her again after that last night together.


Over the years, I heard stories about ‘Sandy Boom-Bots’. She ended up pregnant and with a guy even younger than I was and they even got married – mainly because of her father. The guy was a bum and had no place to live except with her.

She finally had the family she wanted, but she never left her father’s house.

They were all forced to live together.


From time to time, I think about those drunken nights in the bar across the street from her father’s house, and our couple drunken nights together in my bed.


More than twenty years had passed when I heard that Sandy Boom-Bots had “finally given up and died”.


I didn’t know what that meant, but after all that time, I didn’t want to know.

I just had a feeling about it.


Save one slow dance for me, Sandy Boom-Bots.

About Frank Weber:  

Frank Weber is a freelance writer from Erie, Pennsylvania. He has been published in several print and digital magazines, local interest books and advertising campaigns as both writer and model. His work encompasses a firm conviction, a simple honesty in written word and enough of a raw edge to make people feel what they read. Website:

Twitter: @frankietatts_

Instagram: @frankietatts

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