The Green Door

This week, we're diving back into the world of fiction.  The following is an excerpt from my forthcoming novel. 

Melanie and James have been dating for a few months, and he has been challenging her to push the boundaries of her comfort zone.  They have been to the Green Door (a Las Vegas swingers/sex club) once before, but they only watched other couples play. The following is their second trip. 

                                              *          *          *

Before they got out of the car, she took a deep pull on James’ whiskey flask and cringed.

“Ok, let’s do this,” she said. She smiled at James, trying to convey a confident sexiness she did not yet possess, but she was hopeful.

She stood to the side and pretended to check her phone for messages while James paid the cashier.

“You ready?” he asked, opening the door.

She winked at him, then passed through the door and headed up the stairs. She wore a sun dress that came to her mid thigh, and she could feel his eyes on her backside.

When they got to the main room, a couple was already on display. The man was about Melanie’s age, with a thin build and very little body hair, but the woman looked to be in her twenties. The two were side by side on the bed, making out and warming each other up; he kissed her breasts while she stroked his penis, which was already erect.

The woman sat up on the bed and straddled the man, grabbing his erection and easing herself down on it. Her dark hair was beautiful against her pale skin, and her full breasts would’ve looked fake if they were any higher.

As she eased her weight onto him, there was a hush in the room. Melanie looked around at the figures standing in the shadows and snuggled into the couches lining the walls. There were probably thirty people watching, and there was a reverence to the scene. As the woman raised and lowered herself on the man’s erection, her audience was motionless, silent, afraid to break the spell. The woman’s pleasure was contagious, and when she tilted her head back, arching and grinding as she quickened her rhythm, Melanie could feel her own walls tighten deliciously.

When the woman slowed and bent to rest against the man’s chest, he wrapped his arms around her and rolled her onto her back.

Round two, Melanie thought.

“I want you.” James whispered. She closed her eyes and hummed her assent.

“I forgot the condoms,” he whispered, so as not to disturb the couples watching the show. “Will you be ok here? I’ll be right back. They sell them downstairs.”

She watched as the man inserted himself and the woman wrapped her legs around his thighs.

“I’ll be fine,” she said.

James squeezed her behind and left her with a smile on her face. The sexiness was creeping in, and with any luck, the confidence would follow.

 ...                                       

Melanie could see a dim band of light at the bottom of the blindfold, but that was all. She could feel the wall against her cheek and her palms. James was behind her with his hands on her hips whispering into her ear.

“Can you see?”

“No.”

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“A little scared. A little turned on too.”

“That’s my girl.”

He sucked on her ear, her neck. Then he turned her toward him and pulled the straps of her dress down, kissed her shoulders, her cleavage. He tugged the dress down to the floor and she held his shoulders as she stepped out of it. She felt the leather of his gloves on her back and held her breath as he undid her bra and slid it off. She pulled him toward her to cover herself. He kissed her for a moment, then pulled away again. He hooked his thumbs into the sides of her panties, and those came off too.

She could hear people, but she couldn’t see anything. She heard the shuffling of feet, whispering, but no one was speaking loud enough for her to discern the words. There was an aura of reverence, like what she’d seen in the main room. And now all eyes were on her.

She was naked. And blind. And wet.

He turned her around and ran his gloved hands up and down her back, over her backside, between her legs. He removed his hand and she heard him moan with approval.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she admitted.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

He parted the strings of beads that surrounded the bed and bent her over so that her hands were on the bed and her feet on the floor. He pressed his chest against her back, kissed her cheek and neck, slid his gloved hands over her nipples. His crotch was pressed against her backside and she could tell he was ready too.

“I want you to really enjoy this,” he whispered into her ear. “I want you to pay attention to your senses, to the sensations. Once I’m inside you, I’m not going to say a word. I recommend you don’t either. Can you do that?”

“I’ll try.”

“Good girl.”

“I want you inside me. Now.”

He swatted her butt and she moaned, wiggling her behind. “Be patient,” he said.

And then the gloves were gone. His erection pressing through his slacks against her rear end was gone. His breath on her neck was gone. And she felt even more naked than she was, as if he had peeled away her skin. Anyone on any side of her had an unobstructed view. Each eye on her was a needle she couldn’t see, pricking her skin and making her shiver. She couldn’t guess how many there were, but it felt like thousands. As though she was in the center of the Roman Coliseum itself, a hushed crowd looking on in anticipation. She was the center of lustful attention. And she liked it.

 

                                                   *          *          *

 

 

James left Melanie watching the couple in the main room and went back downstairs to where the club sold novelties. There was a guy at the counter buying condoms, and as James walked through the store, another guy came in, grabbed some condoms and went to the register. James assumed a friendly tone, clasped his hands behind his back and approached them.

 

“Hey, either of you guys wanna get laid?”

They both eyed him warily. The one at the counter paying said, “I don’t swing that way, man,” and turned away.

“No, not me,” said James with a polite laugh. “My girlfriend. She’s upstairs. She’s horny and she’s hot.”

“So why don’t you do her?” the one at the counter asked. He was about two inches shorter than James and his skepticism was going to be a roadblock James didn’t have time for. But he could use it.

He turned to the taller of the two men, who happened to be about James’ own height. “It’s her fantasy to be fucked by a stranger and never see his face. Interested?”

The shorter guy spoke first, “I’m in.”

“No offense, but mind if I ask what you’re packing? She likes a certain size.”

“Seven,” he said.

James turned to the taller of the two, who still hadn’t spoken a word.

“Eight,” he said.

James shrugged at the first guy. “Sorry, man. Eight is what she likes.”

The shorter man took his condoms and profaned his way back upstairs.

James floated around the store, picking up what he needed. He went back to the guy he’d chosen and said, “All you have to do is wear a condom and gloves and not say a word. Can you do that?”

“No problem.”

“Can you fuck and come without making any sound?”

“I lived in the dorms in college.”

James nodded. “Good enough.”

He took the condoms from the guy and paid for them along with the rest of his paraphernalia. He knew if he didn’t pull this off there would be hell to pay, the depths of which he hadn’t had the time or inclination to consider fully. He hadn’t thought about what she might do, and it occurred to him that this poor bastard he’d chosen could get hurt if she freaked out on him. Then again, even if this guy knew the risk, James imagined he’d be willing to take that chance. And if it went off without a hitch—if she never suspected that it wasn’t James having sex with her—this, he knew, would be immensely gratifying.

                                                   *          *          *

 

Thanks for reading.  Please comment below.  And don't forget to follow me on Twitter @sexyvegasta for fun, sexy tweets. Until next week...

Stay Sexy!

— T. A.

 

Park & Ride

This week's post is by guest writer, Flirtive Pervert. He enjoys making pancakes from scratch, long walks on the beach, and temporarily freeing bitches from confining kennels. He would never use a choke chain on dog, but he has a special one picked out for you. Follow him on Twitter @flirtivepervert.

 Park & Ride

One problem with infidelity is finding an appropriate place to play.

T's husband, “The Captain,” owns a Chevy Avalanche, which is a superior platform for vehicular lovemaking. The expansive back seat allows for all manner of positions, and the dry cleaning handle is perfectly situated for securing T's hands. The back seats fold down and the entire bed is encased by a protective top. With foam pads and blankets, “The Captain’s” Avalanche becomes the ultimate carnal nest.

He is out of town and his truck is unavailable, and unfortunately her slacker brother occupies a bedroom in her house. We have to settle on her Cadillac CTS. The expensive luxury sedan makes a suitable substitute to get our freak on.

It is not the first, second or even third time we have fooled around in her car. Four nights earlier she sucked me to a hat-trick worth of climaxes in fifteen minutes. She wrapped her lips around the base of my member and her mouth and tongue got me off with back-to-back-to-back money shots. No teasing, no edging, no delay because I knew the perils of parking lot promiscuity.

Inhibitions, insecurities and interruptions are an ever-present hazard when one is engaging in impromptu public intercourse.

This evening we are in an isolated commercial complex. After business hours, the place is deserted. We had parked in a different section on a previous occasion in the Avalanche. The illicit session of screwing was disrupted when a pair of guys collecting scrap metal in a pickup caught us mid-coitus. They drove by wide-eyed and slack-jawed as T rode me.

Tonight we have chosen a location away from the main entrance. The back seat and dark tint of the CTS's windows provide us with privacy. She's had a medley of orgasms already, but I have been edging for close to an hour. Despite throat-gagging fellatio, and intercourse in a variety of positions, I refuse to come.

Confident in the security of our location and having not ejaculated since our last tryst, I have held out on spilling my seed. She's tried to make me climax, but I've backed away from the edge every time.

I'm holding out to give an epic facial.

She leans back, legs splayed open while my face occupies a position between them. I finger, lick and slurp while she pulls at the back of my head, her hips bucking.

She moans, “Uhh, uhh, uhhh, uhhhhh — a cop car just drove in the entrance.”

The abrupt interruption does not faze me. “It's dark. That's a long way away, are you sure it was a cop car?” My lips, face and fingers are covered in her vaginal liquids. I'm in the zone and don't want to quit now.

“There were lights on top and it said 'Metro' on the side of it.”

Whoops.

“It's all right. The windows are tinted. Hard to see into the car in the dark. Besides he might not even come by here.” My cool logic and continued ministrations mollify her and she allows me to bring her to one more head-clamping climax.

We switch positions, I lay back against the door with my legs spread.

“I don't know about this. What about that cop car?” she asks, hesitating. I hold my stiffened penis by the base and point with maximum extension. The sight of my swollen cock is too much and she takes it into her mouth and maneuvers herself onto the seat next to me so I can finger her while she blows me. With my left hand, I reach out and start teasing and fingering her ass. She moans around me as I grab her head with my right. Holding her hair by the extempore topknot formed with a hair tie, I moan with delight as she gags on my penis. I can feel the come welling up as I prepare to deliver that epic facial.

That's when I see them.

It is dark, the Cadillac's windows are tinted and the figures are a good distance away. Still, I know immediately what I am seeing. I volunteer in animal rescue and walk and train dogs almost every day. It's how I met T.

Two Metro K-9 officers in green jumpsuits are walking toward the car. One is holding a long leash while a German Shepherd patrols, sniffing. I know how keen the large ears are at sensing even the faintest of sounds. It is impossible to sneak up on them because of their keen sense of hearing. Every year at the Orleans casino they hold demonstration trials for working dogs. I've seen the shepherds track the paths that their quarry have taken and find dropped items with their keen noses. They've been bred and trained to detect the presence of humans through scent and sound. And now this canine human detector is walking toward our car.

She feels me stiffen and knows instinctively that it's not because I’m going to come. She removes my dick from her mouth and says, “What?”

I put my finger up to my lips and hold my breath as I watch the police officers approach. Heart thumping in my chest, my mind races as I try to think of what we are going to say when the dog alerts on the vehicle and the officers come over to investigate.

Oh, the adulterous shame.

I mentally practice the speech I will make when they drag us out of the Cadillac.

Please officer, my wife cannot find out!

Miraculously, the dog pays no attention to us, and the cops walk by without noticing our back seat bacchanalia.

T moves out from between my legs and starts putting her pants back on.

“Wait a minute,” I say. “What about me? I haven't come yet.”

“That sounds like a personal problem. You had plenty of chances.”

I use my rock-hard penis as bait to attract her mouth again but the near run-in with the law has killed any chance of T continuing.

“Please? They've already gone by.”

“No way. We need to get out of here, stat.”

I exit the Cadillac and get back into my own vehicle. Before she can drive away, I take a picture of my engorged penis and send her a text, “C'mon babe. We can meet at the other spot. You are so hawt!”

“headed home,” comes her curt reply.

“plz, No one will be around,” I beg.

She responds with a picture of her own. In it, she's licking her fingers. I inhale the musky smell of her womanhood still clinging to my hands and beard.

The smell makes my swollen penis ache.

---------------------------------

Thanks for reading, and if you have a sexy story you'd like to share, email me at SexyVegasTA@aol.com.  You can follow me on Twitter @SexyVegasTA. 

Stay Sexy!

— T.A.

Bodyscapes by Allan Teger

A recent trip to First Friday in the Downtown Arts District turned up a gem of a find.  At the Sin City Gallery inside The Arts Factory, a showing titled “Bodyscapes” demanded to be included in our catalog of Sexy Vegas discoveries.

 

Using the naked human body as landscape, backdrop or setting is what makes Allan Teger’s work unique, titillating and just a joy to look at.  Some are simply fun, such as the mountain climbers hoisting themselves up a perky breast.  Others are more subtle and thought-provoking, such as the side-by-side models’ torsos simulating the undulating rises and valleys of the countryside.

 

Teger says he wanted to show two realities at the same time.  “I did not initially have any interest in shooting nudes,” he says.  “The use of the human body was a way of making the point that we could see things in different ways.  It’s really all about the ‘flip’ in our heads when we realize that the landscape is really a body.”

And the body a landscape, for that matter.

Teger’s themes include farming, cowboys, travel, the beach, fishing, and even golf.  One of Teger’s more memorable golf scenes portrays a golf ball precariously perched on a pert nipple, driver at the ready.  Teger says he’s not a golfer at all, but his erotic portrayal of a woman’s curves as the rolling hills of a golf course makes that hard to believe.  Even a cart-rider will want to grab a bag of sticks and walk this course.

The models in Teger’s scenes have undeniably beautiful bodies, with perky butts, flat stomachs and naturally lovely breasts.  They are not, however, professionals.  He has a few that he uses regularly, as well as some who have asked to model simply because they love his work.  Some are just his friends.  (It’s good to have friends like this, no?)

Teger simply uses tiny toys or miniatures on the models’ bodies to get his shots; he does not combine images or use computers or Photoshop.  The Bodyscape photographs are shot on film and printed in a darkroom using fiber-based silver gelatin paper, a technique rarely used these days.  Teger says this is “the old, original paper, similar to what Ansel Adams used.”  This quality of workmanship shows when one is able to appreciate the lighting and texture of one of his prints up close. 

 

Originally from Easton, PA, Teger now lives in Vero Beach, FL.  As a psychology professor he taught for 12 years at the University of Pennsylvania and Boston University, then left to pursue art full time.  He has been featured on the Playboy Network and his work has shown in galleries all over the country.  His second book of Bodyscapes images has recently been published by Schiffer Publishing.

 

The Sin City Gallery is a great fit for him, as its “gallerist,” Dr. Laura Henkel, is also a psychologist, and both are fascinated with the psychology of erotic art.  The gallery is located inside The Arts Factory at 107 E. Charleston Blvd., suite 100.  They are open for viewings Tuesday through Saturday from 1 to 7 p.m., as well as for First Friday on May 3^rd, which runs until 11 p.m. 

Stop by to see more of this fun, flirty art, and tell them T.A. from Sexy Vegas sent you.

Stay Sexy!
—T.A.

Pooling - Part 3

(read parts 1 and 2 here.)

James whispered, “We’re being watched.”

“What?”  Melanie tried to lift her head to look around but James tightened his fist in her hair and held her where she was with her cheek against the towel.  She squirmed under him but he was still holding her arm and she couldn’t get free. He slowed his stroke even more.

“Who’s watching?” she whispered loudly.

“It’s ok.  Just relax.  I’m not letting you go until you come.” 

She wasn’t fighting him, but she wasn’t sure she could relax with someone watching.  The urge to come was ebbing and flowing, and her mind was racing.

“Who is it?” she asked again.  If it was her creepy next door neighbor she’d pretty much have to move.  The thought of him masturbating to an actual memory of her was too nauseating to bear. 

“I’m not sure, but I think it’s the pool boy.”

Melanie tried to turn her head toward the gate where the pool boy always let himself in, but James held her firmly.  She closed her eyes and groaned.  At least he was young and attractive.  The thought of him seeing her—and liking what he saw—didn’t seem completely offensive.  She tried not to think about it and just concentrated on her orgasm.  She knew the sooner she came the sooner this would be over, and she knew better than to try and fake it; James’ ego would be crushed if he even suspected.

James started thrusting faster again and her body continued to respond, despite her self-consciousness.  When she began moving back against him, he put his knees outside of hers so she could squeeze her legs together, and within moments they were both coming.  Melanie was able to turn her face enough to muffle her cries in the towel as her muscles convulsed hard and long.  James released her arm and hair.  He leaned back and moaned up toward the sky as he thrust into her slowly, once, twice, three times.

Before the twitching had subsided completely, Melanie slowly lifted her head and turned toward the gate.  There was no one there.

                                                      *       *       *                         

“It’s only 12:45.  Why would he come by that early?” 

Melanie was sitting on a deck chair with a towel wrapped tightly around her nakedness, despite the fact that no one besides James was around to see it. 

“Dunno.”  James sat in the water on the pool stairs and sipped his beer looking unreasonably happy. 

“How long was he standing there?”

“I told you he was there right after I noticed him.”

“Are you sure it was the pool boy?”

“How would I know?  I’ve never seen your pool boy.”

“What did he look like?” Melanie asked.

James shrugged.  “Young.  About my height I guess.  I barely glanced at him.  I didn’t want to scare him off.”

“Why not?”

“Because I wanted you to see what it felt like to have someone watch you enjoy yourself.  And you liked it.  Admit it.”

“Are you kidding?  I was completely freaked out.”

“I felt how hard you came.  You loved it.”

“If I came hard it was because of all the stuff you’d done before that.  Not because someone was watching me.”

“If you were turned off by it you wouldn’t have been able to come at all.”

Melanie sat quietly for a second.  Had the pool boy really been there?  Or was this some kind of game?

“Was someone really here?” she asked.

“Tell you what, what time is he supposed to come clean the pool?”

“Two.”

“When he gets here, ask him.”

“I’m not going to ask him.  I’m asking you.”

“And I already told you.”

Melanie gave up.  “I’m going in.”  She dragged the raft out of the pool and propped it against the wall.  “Grab the noodles and my bikini bottoms before you get out.”

“Will do,” he said cheerfully.

She picked up her bikini top from the pool deck and laid it across a lounge chair to dry.  The condom James had used was tied off and laying by the pool stairs.  She walked over to get it so she could flush it down the toilet, but before she could pick it up he grabbed it. 

“I got it,” he said. 

She held out her hand.  “Just give it to me and I’ll flush it.”

“It’s ok,” he said.  “I’ll do it.”

She hesitated.  Then she turned around and walked into the house.  She had learned long ago that men with something going for them would guard their sperm like Fort Knox, no matter how much they said they trusted a woman.  It was the ones who didn’t have anything going for them who would leave a condom overnight to dry up and shellac itself to the nightstand.

                                                   *       *       *

James remained in a great mood.  He squeezed her behind and kissed her deeply before he left to go home.  He even called ten minutes later to ask if he could see her that night, and she said yes. 

At a quarter past two, Melanie was folding laundry in the bedroom when she glanced out the window and saw the pool boy checking the chlorine level.  It was the first Saturday of the month, so she needed to pay him.  She considered leaving a check on the patio table and not even making eye contact with him, but if James had made everything up, that would be rude.

She went to her office and wrote out a check, including her usual tip.  As she opened the slider to the patio, she called out, “Hey Brian, how are things?”

He looked up from where he was working on the opposite side of the pool.  “Hey Miss Leon,” he called back.  “Things are good, thanks.”  Then he went back to work. 

Melanie thought she noticed a bit of redness in his cheeks, but then he worked on pools, so it was probably just sun, right?  She waited to see if he would offer any more conversation; he was usually a little chattier than this.  When he didn’t, she set the check down on the patio table. 

“I’ll just leave your check over here,” she said.  “Have a good weekend.”

“Ok, thanks Miss Leon,” he said without looking up.  “You too.”

Melanie picked up her bikini from the lounge chair and was about to head back inside when she noticed the bottoms were missing.  She turned around slowly, and there they were, hovering like a jellyfish near the bottom of the pool. 

She turned back around and went inside, shutting the slider behind her.

 

Thanks for reading!  Please comment below.  And if you have a sexy story to share, email me at SexyVegasTA@aol.com.  You can remain anonymous if you like.

Stay Sexy!

—T.A.

Pooling: Part 2

(Read Part 1 here.)

James increased the tempo and pressure until Melanie was on the edge of her orgasm, chasing it, pushing her hips back against his mouth.  And he stopped.

Melanie whined.  “Why’d you stop?”

“It’s just for a second,” he said.  “I’ll be right back.  No touching yourself.”

Melanie grunted and splashed water at him.

James got out of the pool and jogged to the slider and into the house, his member erect and bobbing.  He emerged a minute later with the package of condoms from the nightstand and two towels.  He put the towels at the top of the stairs, then tore one of the condom wrappers open with his teeth and rolled the condom on.  He came back to Melanie and resumed where he’d left off.

It only took a few minutes before Melanie was again ready to come, and once again, James stopped.

 “Come here,” he said.  He took her beer from her, pulled her from the raft and led her to the edge of the pool.  He positioned her on all fours with her knees in the water and her elbows resting on the towels he’d left on the deck.  He continued playing with her, running one hand over her slit as his other hand ran up and down her arched back.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly.

He put himself at her opening and waited.  The anticipation was too much for her and she pushed back.  James grunted with satisfaction.  He moved in long strokes so that the head escaped her completely on each stroke, and she whined each time it did. 

“You want me to stay in?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I want you to stay in.”

And with that, he grabbed her by the hips and thrust once, deep and hard, holding the head against her cervix.  She cried out, and then waited. 

“You look so beautiful in the sun,” he said.

Ten seconds went by.  James caressed her back and then returned his hands to her hips.  He thrust again.  This time Melanie moaned.  Eight seconds went by.  Again he thrust hard.  Six seconds.  Again.  Four seconds went by.  Again.  Two seconds.  Again.  And then he was giving it to her, the water around them churning as he pulled her into him, skin slapping wetly against skin.

Melanie moaned and lowered her head to the towel.  She could feel her knees starting to chafe against the step, but she was very close to coming.  She reached between her legs and before she could touch herself James grabbed her elbow and pulled her arm back—not to the point of hurting her, but close.

“Babe…” she whined.

“No touching yourself.  I’ll get you there.”

“Ok.  Let go of my arm.”

James didn’t say anything, and he didn’t let go of her arm.  His stroke slowed slightly.  Melanie started to push herself up so she could turn and look at him, but he pushed her head back down to the towel.

He leaned over her so that his chest was pressed against her back.  “Do you trust me?”

“I think so.  What are you doing?”

“Just trust me, ok?”

“Ok.”  Melanie had no intention of trusting him if this got out of hand.  But so far nothing had been painful except the chafing on her knees, so she gave him a little leeway.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asked.

Melanie hummed.

James started thrusting again and Melanie’s body started reacting.  It appeared she would be able to get there without touching herself, and she was beyond ready for it.

James wrapped her hair around his free hand and held it against the back of her head.  He was thrusting hard and strong and panting into her ear.  Melanie was moaning more with each stroke and trying not to be loud enough that the neighbors would hear if they were out in their yards. 

James whispered, “We’re being watched.”

 

                            *                           *                                  *

Tune in next week for the conclusion.  And don't forget to follow me on Twitter @SexyVegasTA.

Stay Sexy!

— T.A.

Pooling - Part 1

 This week's post is an exerpt from my forthcoming novel. Melanie is in her 30s, unmarried, without children, and she avoids risk in all its forms.  When those close to her challenge her to take a chance on love, she finds herself in a relationship that pushes her out of her comfort zone—sexually and otherwise—and in Las Vegas, that can be a perilous experience. 

 

Melanie slept in.   She slipped quietly out of bed at nine-thirty and worked her way through the house, cleaning up as she went.  She started a load of laundry, stacked the books and magazines, unloaded the dishwasher and took out the garbage.  By eleven a.m. she was in the pool swimming laps.  After doing thirty, she got out to grab some water.  That was when she saw James on the other side of the living room slider.  He stood there in his boxers, watching her, smiling, his bed head making him look like a child.  She motioned for him to come out.

“Hey, handsome.”

“Hey yourself, sexy.  What are you up to this fine day?”

“Just doing some laps.  I was gonna catch some rays for a bit.”

“Need some company?  My tan could use a boost.”

“Sure.”

James pulled off his boxers and threw them on the back of a lounge chair.

“Um, ok.”  Melanie laughed.  “The pool boy doesn’t come until two, so I guess you’re safe.”

James took a few running steps and cannon-balled into the deep end of the pool.  Melanie shook her head.  When he surfaced, she asked, “I’m going to grab some water.  Want anything?”

“Beer if you have it.”

“I have it.  Want me to grab the noodles for the pool?”

“Noodles?”

“You know, the foam things.”

“Afraid I don’t know the foam things.”

“I’ll grab ’em.”

Melanie came back with a bucket of beer on ice and two long, bendable foam sticks. 

“Oh, noodles,” said James.  “I get it.”

She handed him a beer and tossed the noodles in the pool.             

James tucked one of the noodles around his back and under his armpits and leaned back, sipping his beer.  “Nice.  Noodles and beer.”

“I call it pooling.”

“Pooling?” he asked.

“Yeah.  Pool, drinks, lounging.  It makes something lazy sound active.”

“I can think of other ways to make it active.”

Melanie winked at him.  “I bet you can.”

There was an inflatable lounger against the wall and she tossed that in the pool.  She grabbed a beer and asked James to hold it while she situated herself on the raft.

Once she was all settled, James handed her the beer.  She sighed and closed her eyes.  The rays felt good and the water was doing a fine job of keeping her cool.  She could hear James paddling lazily around the pool.  After about ten minutes of silence, he said, “You’re gonna get tan lines in that bikini.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him, smiling.  “As you’re aware, I already have tan lines from this bikini.”

“Haven’t you heard?  Tan lines are out.”

“Are they?  It’s so hard to keep up with these trends.”  She feigned exasperation and waved her hand dismissively.  “I gave up trying.”

“Well then I will take it as my job to prevent you from committing a fashion faux pas with your tan lines.  You can thank me later.”  He put his beer on the deck and paddled over to her at the deep end of the pool.

He swam up behind her raft and tugged at the string at her neck.  She glanced toward the fence on the left side of the yard.  Seeing no one, she sat up and giggled as he untied the string at her back and threw her bikini top on the deck.  She lay back down and he paddled around to the side of the raft.  

“Bottoms too,” he said.

“If you insist.”

She watched him pull her bikini bottoms off slowly.  He was staring at the spot where her legs met.  By the time the bottoms were over her feet he’d forgotten about them and let them slip from his hand and hang in the water.  She self-consciously closed her legs, and her eyes. 

James tucked the noodle around the front of his chest and leaned forward, letting the foam hold his weight up.  He wrapped both hands around one of Melanie’s feet and kneaded the sole with his thumbs.  She hummed with approval.

“Heaven,” she said.

After a few minutes James worked on the other foot, then started rubbing her calves, then her thighs.  By the time he reached her upper thighs her legs parted themselves.  She loved the way his touch felt.  And the combination of being caressed by the sun, the water, and James all at the same time was having a narcotic effect.

He touched her gently, running a finger up and down her slit until she moaned and spread her legs wider.  He spread her wetness around, and she could hear his breathing getting deeper, but when she pushed her hips against his hand, he wouldn’t put his fingers inside her.  Instead, he stopped touching her long enough to pull the raft toward the shallow end of the pool.  Once there, he was able to position his head between her legs and go to work.

 

The sensation was surreal, and Melanie couldn’t help thinking how lucky she was.  This was what she deserved: a lazy Saturday in the pool, soaking up rays, drinking a beer, being pleased by a man who adored her.  She imagined there were other things she’d been missing out on too—more important and profound things—but for now, this was all she wanted.

To be continued...
(read part 2 here)

If you have a kinky story to share, please email me at SexyVegasTA@aol.com.

 

Stay Sexy!

T.A.