Spellbound, I did as I was told. The view from the pavilion was spectacular. I perched on a wooden bench and watched a pair of hawks circle and dip above the marsh against the clear blue sky. This place was heaven on earth. I felt sure I could stage the most magnificent affairs here.
Albert returned with a couple of patterned wool blankets, a leather backpack, and a large paper sack. I started to stand but he ordered, “Set there, Marnie. I’ll pull yer boots off and then we can set here on these blankets and talk business. It’ll be more comfortable than those wooden benches.” After he set his cargo on the ground, he stepped toward me and went down on one knee. He reached for my left foot, grabbed hold of the boot, and pulled it off slowly while staring into my eyes. He repeated the gesture with my other foot. Once both boots were off, he tugged at my borrowed socks until my feet were bare.
“Now, don’t that feel better?” he asked, rubbing my feet with his warm strong hands.
“It does, it surely does,” I nodded as I answered, feeling the warmth radiate up my calves.
From his backpack Albert took a bottle of water. He poured it over my feet and rubbed them together, and dried them with a corner of one of the blankets. I let my head fall onto the back of the bench enjoying the ticklish yet inflaming, provocative sensation of a man massaging and warming my feet. Then he really surprised me. Holding each foot by the ankle, he kissed the tip of each of my toes, then the inside of my ankles. It felt so intimate, yet I hardly knew this 30-something gorgeous gaucho.
His strong hands roamed up the sides of my legs, caressed my knees, and traveled down again to my ankles. Over and over he roamed my legs, squeezing muscle and skin, until he reached further, above my knees, and pushed my skirt up toward the big-V between my legs. He brushed my pubic hairs lightly with both thumbs as his hands passed, returning toward my feet by way of the backs of my thighs.
Despite the cool air, rivulets of perspiration poured down my back and between my breasts. My center of bliss was ready for just about anything. On his next pass up my legs, instead of just brushing my love mound, he placed the flat of his palms on my pelvis and slid both thumbs into my wet waiting pussy. He moved his thumbs together, in and out, incredibly slowly, while watching me writhe on the wooden bench, dizzy with pleasure.
I hardly realized it when both of Albert’s hands slid down my thighs and reached under my skirt, to my naked, damp bottom. He lifted my hips to his lips and kissed my clitoris lightly, almost chastely, then flicked his tongue under its hood. I arched my back and moaned aloud. Albert’s intimate treatment of the body parts usually ignored by most men sent my senses into overdrive.
I grabbed his hair and guided his face into my pussy. He chuckled and raised his eyes and eyebrows to me, as if asking me if what he was doing was okay. I smiled broadly and he resumed licking.
The horses’ whinny broke us both from our focus. Albert wiped his chin on my thigh and stood. His obvious erection strained his jeans.
“Marnie? You got any more apples?”
I handed him my purse. “Here, right on top. Three left.”
“On top is good. Keep that thought. I’ll be right back.” He grabbed the paper sack and walked down the hill to the horses. He unrolled the top of the bag, which, I now realized, contained feed. After handing an apple to each horse, he set the feedbag on the ground between them. Squinting back up at me, he smiled.
“You okay up there?”
“Lonely, but fine. Horses all right?”
Albert headed back toward me and laid the blankets out on the ground, one on top of the other. He took my hand, led me to his nest and I lay down on my back. Albert arranged himself next to me, propped up on his elbow, and put his other hand back under my skirt. I was dripping wet and panting. Without another word, he unzipped his jeans, dropped them to his knees, and rolled his hard cowboy body over mine. His thick hot staff probed my garden of pleasure until it gained entry and plunged to the depths of my being.
We established a slow rhythmic pumping during which we kissed with probing tongues and nibbling lips. Albert became more insistent as his surge toward orgasm intensified. Prominent veins protruded on his forehead as he rode me, clearing enjoying his sweet agony. I threw my arms over my head as my hips vaulted back toward his, driving him deeper. Showing amazing self-control, Albert pulled himself out, pumped his organ twice with his right hand, and exploded onto my now-exposed belly. He rolled off me onto his right side, caressing my breasts with his left hand. Other than our own pants and moans, the only audible sounds were the contented munching of the horses and the chirping birds.
Albert smiled mischievously as he moved his face back toward my love mound. If there was a heaven on earth, I’m sure I found it that afternoon.
The Lake House
Seven steps led me down to a putting-green-perfect spit of lawn above the dock. Five more steps toward the water and I was on the dock itself, headed for the teak lounger. Anticipating another lazy crimson sunset and a little snooze (I was tipsy from my second gin and grapefruit), the only sounds I recognized were a motor boat across the lake and a cackling Great Blue Heron on the bank.
“Just like the noise machine at Joey’s studio. This’ll work,” I informed the bird as I set my third drink onto the folding teak side table. Easing my lazy body onto the cushion I relaxed, remembering the last time Joey had his hands on my body. As the best massage therapist in town, I took advantage of his talents at least once a month. He knew my body better than any man with whom I’ve spent more than a few intimate weeks. Joey is gay, so he doesn’t know my secret parts, but he and his almond lotion make love to my every muscle and tendon for a luscious eighty minutes.
“Not too bad. Not my house, but I could get used to this. How’s the fishing?” I asked my aviatric friend. Great Blues always reminded me of wizened old men, and I couldn’t very well call them geriatric -- hence the newfound adjective. English is an evolving language and occasionally I added to it in my own way.
I was housesitting a two-story cedar-sided storm-weathered structure on Lake Lee in middle Georgia. My friends Charles and Andrew bought it from their cousins who had been co-owners under the 80-year-old family trust.
Charles and Andrew are brothers, born in Savannah, and the only remaining family members of a multi-generational ownership arrangement that had served the extended family well. With the sale, they became the sole proprietors and intended to spend a lot more time here than in years past. But the house needed extensive updating, especially the ancient wiring.
While Charles and Andrew were in Italy with their families, I agreed to stay at the house to allow the contractors uninterrupted access. I needed some time off, and besides, I wanted to check out some of the larger homes on the lake as well as the marina for possible wedding sites. As it turned out, it was a working vacation with benefits.
On my third afternoon at the lake, I was thrilled to discover the espresso machine behind a small sliding door on the kitchen counter. Preoccupied with preparing my beloved caffeine jolt, I was startled by a clearing throat noise just above my head. I bumped my head on the edge of the upper cabinet.
“Yow!”
“Oh, are you okay? Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you jump.”
“You – what? Oh, are you Eric? You’re two days late,” I growled. Not only had my anticipated coffee bliss been interrupted but my head was pounding.
Rubbing my growing lump, I glared into blue-gray eyes which belonged to this stranger who was reaching out to touch the crown of my head. He was so gentle and obviously concerned I just dropped my arm to my side and let him caress my scalp. Goosebumps fluttered down the back on my neck and onto my shoulders. He was about four inches taller than me, biceps bulging out of his blue polo shirt. I closed my eyes. He had strong fingers.
“I know. Something came up. I left a message for Andrew; guess he didn’t let you know. I’m the electrician--” he stopped rubbing.
“Right. Well, I guess you better get started. I’m go
ing for a swim to get some cool water on my sore head.” I ducked under his outstretched arm and headed through the archway.
“Don’t you want your coffee?” Eric shouted after me. I twirled to face him.
“Um, yes. Do you know how to work this thing?”
“Yeah. I gave it to Charles and Andrew as a welcome gift.”
“Are you gay?” I blurted, doubt and disappointment surely showing in my squinted eyes and pinched brows. His quick wide smile exposed perfect white jewels between thick smooth lips. One adorable dimple dented his left cheek.
“Why would you ask that?” he said placing his hands on his hips.
I tried to laugh off my obvious error. “Oh, well, you know, just stereotyping I guess. That was wrong of me. I mean, the gift is sweet and thoughtful and useful and expensive and something, well, that I think a gay guy would give to another gay guy. I don’t know how close you are to my friends, but Charles and Andrew are definitely NOT gay.”
“I know they’re not. But they’re still great people. “ Another smile. “I’m thankful they’ve trusted me. I’ve done work for them in their Savannah and Tybee Island homes and they recommended me to a bunch of their friends. I was just grateful, that’s all. And it’s a cool machine, right? I have one just like it. Old Faithful, I call it. I’ll show you how it works,” he offered, as he expertly tamped the grounds, slid them into the machine, then flipped a switch on the side. All I had managed to do was fill the water reservoir.
This guy was too much: gorgeous, sensitive, talented, articulate, and appreciated excellent coffee. With a dimple. He appeared rock solid, too. I was about to ask him what else he had that was so darned faithful. My panties were suddenly damp.
“Ha-ha. Old Faithful. Cute. “ I muttered as I poured my espresso into a tiny molded mug. “Well, guess you’d better get to work. I’ll be down, um, down there. On the dock.” I nodded over my shoulder in the general direction of the water. This guy had me flustered.
“Right. See ya later. What was your name again?” Eric asked me.
“Marnie. I’ll be here for a couple weeks.”
“Ok, then, hope to see you again. Marnie.” He smiled and did a little bowing thing with his head that was quite endearing. I held onto my espresso, grabbed the bag of Fritos from the counter, and walked out onto the deck. I was perspiring and my face felt hot even though we had been inside where the air conditioner was working just fine.
The next morning Eric let himself into the house before the sun rose. I didn’t hear him come in, but I woke to him standing in the master bedroom doorway.
“What are you doing there?”
“Watching you. Did you know you talk in your sleep?”
Uh-oh. I hoped I didn’t say anything too embarrassing. I had rubbed my nub until I came last night before I fell asleep and now awakened, I noticed my hand was still between my legs. This local electrician man-boy had aroused me and here he was, gaping at me. Did he know I was naked under the covers?
“No, I didn’t know that I talked in my sleep. What did you hear?”
“Mumbling. Maybe moaning. I don’t know you that well to tell the difference.”
“Mmmm. Well, I better get up.” I pointed beyond Eric, out the door. “Do you mind? I don’t wear pajamas.”
“Yes, I think I do mind. Can I watch?” He was grinning and I was still horny. Or maybe it was renewed arousal, I wasn’t sure. I pulled the blanket over my head and fell back on the pillow.
“Whatever. I don’t really have anything I have to do right now. I’ll wait.”
Silence.
When I peeked above the cotton sheet, Eric was standing next to the bed. His too-long blond hair was curling around his ears and he hadn’t shaved, but he looked adorable. How did he get so close so quickly?
“Need help in there?” he asked.
“Do you always move like a superhero? I wanna take a shower.”
“I’ve learned a lot about stealth from my cats. Was that an invitation?”
Wow. He wanted to shower with me and I hadn’t even brushed my teeth yet. I loved morning sex, especially right after a warm shower. I appraised him all over, glancing first at his clear eyes but not missing his bulging zipper.
“Give me a minute in the bathroom. If you hear the shower running and you’re still interested, get naked and come on in.”
Eric actually blushed. When he spoke his voice was hoarse. “You’re kidding right?”
“No. I gotta pee.”
Throwing the covers off like caution to the wind, I slid from the middle of the bed to the edge, sat up and stretched my arms above my head.
“You have beautiful breasts.”
Breasts. He actually said breasts, and not tits or boobs or hooters or some other crass euphemism. I was really starting to like this guy. All I could manage was “thanks” as I walked past him into the bathroom. He spoke to the back of my head.
“And you look really strong. Nice upper arm definition. Where do you work out?”
I didn’t answer. He was too good to be true. Maybe I would have his children.
Morning ablutions completed and soaping in the steamy shower, I was surprised to find him against the tiled wall when I opened my eyes.
“Stealth. That’s what I’m changing your name to. Forget ‘Eric’, okay?”
Still smiling, he reached for the mesh scrubby-thing. I briefly wondered what those things were called. Not a loofah, not a sponge… a body pouf? Mmmmm, it didn’t matter. Eric squirted it with my lavender soap, put his other hand on my shoulder, and turned me around. My knees weakened as he gently massaged my back, rubbing in smaller then larger circles, definitely headed toward my round ass. When he reached my cheeks, he had both hands free and cupped me from behind. “You are … exquisite,” he said as I felt him grow hard against the small of my back. I leaned into him. His soapy hands roamed over my breasts. Warm water covered us both.
Eric kissed my neck. I slid around to meet his mouth just as he raised his head. My left hand touched his dimpled cheek and the right one curled around the back of his head. He still had hold of my ass and pulled me against his stiff cock, thrusting his soft tongue past my lips, searching for more contact. We kissed for many minutes, squirming to get closer to each other, slick with suds.
The water turned abruptly cooler. Eric reached behind me and turned it off. He stepped out of the shower first, grabbed a towel and began patting my skin, starting with my face. He was dripping all over the travertine floor; neither of us cared. When I was dry, he stood and handed me the towel, motioning to my wet hair. I wrapped my head and stepped onto the bath mat. He was already dry when I looked up, desire gripping my pussy.
“Now what?” I asked.
With one motion, he picked me up and carried me back into the bedroom. “How about here?” he suggested, and bounced me onto the bed, face up. He lowered his lean body next to mine and propped on one elbow. With the other hand, he carefully traced my face outline, stopped at my chin, and bent in for a chaste kiss. Surely moaning, I was rolling into his embrace, kissing him back, harder and more insistent.
He pulled back, softly uttering, “Marnie, Marnie. Where did you come from?”
“Umm Hmmm, “I responded, sliding my hips toward his. “Why do you wanna know?” I kissed his emerging smile and ran my tongue over his teeth, rolling on top of him. He cupped my ass and slid two fingers into my wetness. He was as ready for me as I was for him, but I love finger fucking so I rolled my hips forward and down, hoping to encourage him to continue. A quick study, he thrust his fingers in and out with increasing speed and pressure, curving them to reach that elusive G-spot. He pushed his fingers in and slid them out, changing speed and intensity and alternately cupping my cheeks with one hand. Supported by both arms, I rocked my pelvis and rubbed my clitoris on his solid shaft. I knew he would make me come like this and I couldn’t wait. When I finally exploded, he held my ass and pressed me into his belly, moving his hips with my spasms.
Ha
ving caught my breath, I leaned into his lips and kissed him deeply.
“That was amazing,” I admitted. He looked serious as he rolled me onto my back and kneeled between my legs, stroking his raging cock with his right hand. “Okay, okay -- that looks amazing, too,” I said laughing. Still he said nothing. He leaned over the side of the bed to snag a condom from his leans pocket and tore it open.
“So you’re a superhero AND a Boy Scout?” I asked.
As he unrolled the latex onto his purple penis, he finally spoke. “I am gonna fuck you now, Marnie, no matter what you call me.”
Speechless, I succumbed to his insistent hardness. Eric lowered his hips to mine. I wrapped both hands around him and guided him into my dripping twat.
“Beautiful,” he said to my eyes. “Perfect fit.”
As we moved together on the bed, I felt compelled to warn him. “You’re not gonna get much electrical work done today.”
“Tonight, either,” he added.
Swinging Vines
Arm answered his own phone.
“Yeah. Arm.”
I stifled a giggle.
“Oh, hello, is this Arm Gleeson? My name is Marnie and I’m a wedding planner in Savannah. I’m a fan of your work in the Atlanta paper. And I’ve seen your magazine articles. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in being a travel consultant for some of my clients.”
“Where do they wanna go?” It seemed like the oddest of inquiries, but I played along.
“Oh, some go to Cabo, some to the Caribbean, but I’m mostly interested in trips that don’t make a big ecological footprint, if you know what I mean. Romantic places within driving distance that combine romance and adventure with natural beauty and healthy, delicious food.”
Silence. Arm was either thinking or asleep.
“You still there, Arm?”
“Yeah, yeah. Sure. Hey -- this could be a piece for me.” Arm seemed most agreeable. I heard him snap his fingers as he added, “I mean, I could write about it. Change the names and all, but it might be an interesting thread to follow for a regular column.”
Discovering Desires:Erotic Adventures Page 4