by Vivian Wood
As if he did not hear me at all, he continues, "You know, I thought you would want to wear something comfortable for our steaks tonight, but you surpassed my expectations with that number you have on. Take that towel down and let me see you shimmy out of that suit."
He sips a beverage that appears to have been made with orange juice, probably a screwdriver. I love screwdrivers and after today's work, I could sorely use the cool juice sliding down my throat. Telling myself to come back to my senses, I squeeze my towel against myself and inform him, "I am very comfortable in this towel, thank you, and if you don't mind, I need to get in the water." Shuffling away, I reach the lake in almost a dead run. Sneaking a look over my shoulder, I see that he is still watching me with his drink in hand. Great, he is going to watch me swim now.
"Go ahead," he yells, "have a nice swim, but don't forget about the deck. I gave you fair warning."
He is obviously enjoying himself, making me squirm, and I do not feel like being his entertainment. Assertive, I remind myself, I just need to lay down some limits with him, and then we can share the lake for the next two weeks until I go home.
An unpleasant thought crosses my mind. What if he is at his lake house every time I come to visit Grandpa's cabin? Deciding to cross that bridge when I get to it, I pull the towel up around my chest and walk straight back from the water's edge and onto his back deck. The aroma of grilled steak invades my senses, and my mouth moistens at the tantalizing scent of spiced meat.
"Look, Sir, I understand you have a right to be in this house on this lake, and thank you for helping with my bags before. I think it will be nice to be friends, but you are not going to get what you want from me. I am not into casual- err- whatever it is you want to do here, so if you don't mind, I am going to swim in the lake because I'm sweaty and need to clean off. You can wave and say "hi" to me from your property if you like, but that will be the extent of our relationship. Do I make myself clear?" I press. Hoping that I did not just sound like a colossal bitch, but instead like I'm just getting my point across.
Pushing himself off his posh throne, he leans toward me and brushes my temple with his lips. Frozen in place again by his touch, I wonder why my body can't seem to be properly outraged by his outrageous attentions.
"I will make you one of these while you shower. The bathroom is just up the stairs where you saw me this morning. You remember what I mean, right? I was almost naked and my prick was rock hard under my towel from looking at your sexy cleavage with those breasts pressed together," he says.
"I am getting hard again thinking about what you look like in the swim suit, you can take off your towel, and I promise I won't bite to leave marks."
He pulls my towel loose from my hands and drags it across my body. I let him, eager for him to see me almost naked, and too far gone to think to resist.
Pointing into the house, he gently nudges my arm and steps behind me to direct me into his home. Memories of the cool air in his living room have me moving toward the door, seeking relief from the hot weather. Deciding to take him up on his offer, I let him lead me into the lion's den.
Cool Showers
"There are clothes in the bathroom for you and towels under the sink," he informs me.
"Thank you," I reply as reprieve from the harsh day sooths my heated skin. Registering his last words in confusion, "How do you have clothes for me in the bathroom?" I ask, a thought occurring to me maybe he has a girlfriend.
Surprised by unmistakable jealousy, I convince myself it is none of my business whether he has a girlfriend or not. I am going to shower then go straight home in the morning since I need a plumber in the cabin before I can use it.
"I took the liberty of grabbing a tank top and shorts from your bag this morning, just in case I end up ripping yours off tonight. Fortunately, you came over in only your swim suit."
"Wait," stopping in my tracks, I turn around to face him, "you took my clothes from my bag this morning?"
"Yes, I just told you that. Try to keep up. I thought you would need an extra set here and I was right. Now go wash up. Dinner's almost ready," he instructs, pointing toward the bathroom door.
Too tired and hungry to resist his offer, I head up the stairs and step inside the magnificent bathroom. Of course, a man straight out of my wildest fantasy would have to have a dreamy bathroom as well.
Everything looks so pristine and elegant. A black marble countertop with a transparent basin stands next to a walk-in shower and multi-jet bathing tub. I guess there will be no privation in using this bathroom. Locking the door in an attempt to regain some sense of control, I turn on the numerous shower heads and step into paradise.
Just as promised, when finished with my shower, I find my clothes folded neatly in the top drawer of the wooden cabinet near the tub. As I step out of the shower and towel dry, I slip in to my shirt and denim shorts noticing he suspiciously neglected to grab one of my tank tops with a built-in bra.
Deciding he may need some of his own medicine, I leave my swim suit in the bathroom, letting my perky full breasts stretch against the material of the shirt. Now we will see who ends up drooling after whom tonight.
Making my way into the living room, I enjoy the cool air-conditioning and then climb into the overstuffed sofa, closing my eyes in pure bliss. Hearing stirrings in the kitchen, my eyes open to see Mr. Brawny Butt walking toward me, two drinks in hand. He sits next to me, offering the refreshing drink, and I take it eagerly.
"Thank you," I sigh, and sip the sweet drink. The aroma of grilled steak has grown stronger and now permeates the entire house. The bar connecting the kitchen to the great room is set for dinner. The small quaint space has two place settings adjacent to one another. On each plate, a huge steak, cucumber and tomato salad, and baked potatoes are arranged, inviting me to come and enjoy.
"Oh, my God, it looks delicious - thank you for dinner." Upon seeing the food, I decided dinner with him will not be such a difficulty after all. Looking back toward my neighbor, I see that my efforts to tease him have been successful as he gazes at my chest. Wonderful.
Too quickly, he looks back to my eyes, "I decided it was too hot for you to eat outside tonight. You need to be in the cool air. Is there an air-conditioner in the cabin?"
"There was when I was a kid, but that old window unit has long since retired. It feels like heaven in here," I say honestly.
We enjoy dinner sitting close to one another, easily carrying conversation. He takes great effort to savor each bite as he looks into my eyes and chews. He rubs my leg with his under the table, and when he grabs my knee with his hand while telling me stories about my grandpa, I let him.
It was the most delicious dinner that I've had in a long time. Afterward, I help him clean up, and then taking my hand in his, he leads me back to his sofa in the main area of the great room.
Sitting next to him, I slide away just enough to give me some much-needed distance. He has not made any over-the-top advances like he did this morning, but my body is just as hungry for him as the moment I saw him walk out onto his balcony. He has only touched me subtly and flashed me that sexy smile during dinner, and I find that I kind of miss super-dominating, sexually-aggressive stranger; However, I decide that normal, but sexy, neighborly, flirty stranger is just as breathtaking.
Before I can put very much distance between us on the couch, he reaches down and grabs my ankle, pulling it onto his lap. I'm forced to turn sideways reclining backward against the arm of the of the sofa. Never one to refuse a free foot rub, I place my feet on his lap and close my eyes to the sensation of his hands on my receptive skin as he begins to knead my sore soles.
"You grandpa used to take father and me to a great little pub nearby," he says.
"They bought me my first beer there."
Vaguely aware that he is still sharing stories, my body slips into a state of tranquil delight. His voice trails off, and as his touch moves up toward my ankles after attending to my feet, his hands settle on my calves, and I have
no inclination whatsoever to rebuff him. My entire body relaxes as I lie back, my head extended across the arm of the sofa, eyes closed as I focus on the feel of his ministrations.
"You know, Ash," he tells me, adopting the nickname Grandpa used for me, "the night I watched you touch yourself, I was hard for hours." His voice is soft, soothing, caressing me as his fingers work magic rubbing the backs of my knees. Tingles of pleasure pucker my nipples and make my juices flow from my steadily heating core.
I moan in need as his fingers trail up my thighs. Grinding my hips, I see a flash of him fisting his cock while watching me finger myself.
"I had to take my cock in my hand because of your little show, Ash," he says, "and I fucked my hand so hard I had a blister for a week! I knew then that someday I would have you, just like you are now, Darlin'." He smiles as I moan in pleasure, his finger tips grazing my thighs.
I separate my knees as his fingers delve between my thighs and his fingers draw a line up toward my warm pussy. Rotating my hips to grind against my pants, I rub my clit against the fabric, trying to find relief from the pressure building up inside of me. The sensation of his finger tips leave me for a moment, and I hear the snap of my jeans pop open even before I feel his hand on my stomach.
My eyes spring open, and he is staring at my face. Tearing my eyes away from him, I look down my body past my hard nipples to his wide hand spread out over my opened pants. He shifts the material away from my skin and slides his hand inside to touch my needy flesh.
"I just need to touch you," he soothes as my eyes widen with alarm. His hand continues to rub gently between my legs. Listening to his soothing voice, I relax as the realization that his hands are all over me sets in.
Nibbling on my lower lip, I let out a sigh of surrender. He raises his eyebrow and runs his fingers through my folds. It seems a bit too convenient that he neglected to steal panties from my bag with my clothes, and at this point, I am sorely grateful.
His finger fills my sheath as his other hand slides under my shirt to caress my tingly nipples. My inner muscles accept the intrusion as they clench around his digit. A shot of pain and then intense pleasure begins at my nipple as he pinches the bud and stretches my slit by inserting another finger.
"Ooooh," I moan as the pressure inside me increases, and my urge to orgasm intensifies. His thick fingers thrust inside me, causing my inner muscles to clench, and I am on the verge of exploding on his couch. My hips pump with his rhythm as I pant and squeeze the cushions with my hands.
"That's it," he coos.
"Come for me. Come hard like you did that night," he gently commands. His quick thrusts become too much for my body to take and my back jerks up off the arm of the couch as I grab his wrist and ride out an explosive climax, my body jerking as the waves continue. Deeply embedded inside me, his fingers soaked in my juices press my flesh, prolonging my waves of pleasure until I fall back to the couch, spent.
The pressure eases and an emptiness settles inside my pussy as he slowly removes his fingers. Placing each one between his lips, he sucks off my juices while staring at my face.
"Beautiful," he says as he and licks his fingers clean. He eases out from under my legs and stands next to the couch, proudly displaying a huge bulge for me. Hungry for his hardness and desperately wanting to explore his body, I reach toward his swollen cock with my eager fingers.
Grabbing both of my hands in his strong grip, he intertwines our fingers and pulls me up from the couch, leading me outside. I wonder if he would like to take me on the deck as he described this morning, and my insides quiver in anticipation. Kissing the backs of both of my hands, he leads me to my cabin's front porch.
My brow furrowed, I try to ask why we are here when he slams his lips against mine in a passion-filled kiss. My lips respond by parting as he plunges his tongue into my mouth. Panting and lost to the slick sensation of his tongue plundering my mouth, I press my nipples to his chest sure he can feel the taut peaks through our clothing. His breath is warm, and his mouth wet as he trails a wet line along my jaw, behind my ear, and down my neck. Panting and ready to come again almost to the point of begging, I grab both of his shoulders to keep him pressed against my body.
Anticipating his need to dominate our embrace, I accept his molestation eagerly as he runs his hands and mouth over me. On the brink of exploding, I know I cannot take anymore. His hands relax and slide down my arms to hold both of my hands. His mouth comes back to me as he presses his lips against mine and takes a step back.
Feelings of emptiness engulf me as I mourn the loss of his body against me, "Good night, Ash," he says. He swiftly makes his way across the grass and back into his house as I stand on my porch, watching his escape, feeling utterly mystified.
Big Boats
The bright sun shining in my window the next morning, illuminating my bedroom was most unwelcome. The long, muscular body lying next to me and fresh aroma of coffee calling from the cup in his hand, however, was not. In the bright light, it is easy to see the exquisiteness of his eyes, golden flakes subtlety hidden in an iris of dark mocha. He has a strong jaw, and I can make out his dimples when he smiles. If not for the acute need for coffee this particular morning, I would stop resisting the temptation to crawl on top of him and rub myself against his body.
"Good morning, Beautiful," he whispers, before his lips graze my temple.
The effects of the most restless night I have had in a long time are clearly displayed on my face as I eagerly accept the cup of coffee from my neighbor. Tossing and turning all night without even a fan to cool off the room, I discredit immediately whoever it was that penned the term cool of the night.
Not only was it sticky and hot, but the lack of any discernible breeze ensured I would find no rest at all. Fantasizing about the man next door added to my irritability, and I spent all night craving him in spite of his mercurial behavior.
"I am immensely pleased by your lack of a sleeping attire, I must admit," he teases as the sheet draped over my shoulders drifts slightly while I sit up to drink the heavenly brew. I remember stripping down to cool off last night, but have no recollection of pulling a sheet over my body.
Surmising that he must have draped me before lying in bed next to me, I ponder which man will I get today, Mr. Gentleman or Mr. Sexually Aggressive Asshole. Both have their merits, I determine, wanting them both. My desire for my neighbor is growing by leaps and bounds the more time I spend in his presence.
"Get dressed. We are going out. As much as I liked your one piece yesterday, today I will see you in a bikini or nothing at all. This red number will suffice," he explains, holding up yet another garment of mine he has pilfered while rummaging through my personal belongings. Instead of feeling my privacy invaded, a wave of relief that my sexy, demanding neighbor has not gone into hibernation washes over me at his pompous demands.
"Where are we going?" I ask, immediately accepting his offer to accompany him. As if I didn't even speak at all, he rolls over on top of me, and I am forced to place my coffee on the nightstand as his teeth bite the edge of the sheet, pulling it away from my breasts, both of my nipples puckering. His knee slides between my thighs as his mouth envelops my nipple. Pressing his hardon against my leg, he pumps his hips, rubbing his clothed cock against my naked pussy.
As I squeeze his head while he devours my nipples, I discover his hair feels moist like he has just showered. Too soon, he pulls back from me and places a warm kiss against my cheek as he rolls away, leaving me a smoldering mess.
"I'm pulling the car around so hurry up," he demands, leaving my bedroom. He is trying to mock me, I figure, scrambling to put on my bikini. Covering my bikini with a tank top, one of the ones with a built in bra that he rejected, I pair it with my best, most-enticing daisy dukes. Who am I kidding, I wonder. He is exceedingly better than I am at playing the tease game, but a girl must try.
Thirty minutes later, we are swerving down the highway in what, I assume, is a very expensive fire-engine-red Porsche. The
seats are leather, and it is the most extravagant car I have seen in person. Afraid I have offended him by not giving the car its proper due, I try my best to be appropriately impressed.
"So this is a foreign sports car?" I ask, mentally searching for the right questions to ask about cars.
He glances at me with a big grin, "Yes, Darlin'. It is." Releasing the gearshift, he places his hand on my knee and leaves it there until we exit the highway, heading toward the ocean.
Salty brine tickles my nose as the Pacific Ocean comes into view. Blue water as far reaching as the sky extends from the edge of the water closest to the narrow road we are driving down. Men in polo shirts and smart haircuts and women with large designer purses and wearing little else stroll hand in hand along the docks and walk ways.
The Porsche pulls into a parking garage marked as private, and we head toward the docks which house rows upon rows of boats on each side. A grey-haired man with crow's feet and kind eyes greets us from a few boats down. He looks to be preparing to climb into a beautiful yacht, and he waves to us and calls out, "Good morning, Blake, see you at Charlie's later today?" He then becomes preoccupied with preparing his boat to sail.
"Absolutely, I will definitely stop by, Paul," he calls back.
"Ma'am," he tips his baseball cap to me as we pass by him. Smiling, I give him a friendly wave. Apparently, Blake is too focused on walking down his dock to give more than a friendly greeting to his comrade. Paul doesn't seem to mind, either, as he hurriedly unties the ropes. So his name is Blake. It bothers me that I only discovered that information now.
"Nice to meet you, Blake," I throw at him.
"Nice to know you care that I have a name, Ash," he throws back. Realization dawns on me; I never asked him his name. Feeling embarrassed, I follow him down the dock toward a particularly lovely vessel.
Stopping in front of a luxurious yacht, I guess to be at least forty-five feet long, he spares me the explanation of the specifics of the vessel, guessing correctly that I know as much about yachts as I do Porsches. He lets me know that there is a master bedroom and media room down below, and he will show me the entire boat after we have set sail. He helps me over the railing, and I find myself standing on the deck of an amazing ocean-ready yacht fully prepared to ride the waves.