It’s the middle of November and I only have one exam left to do and then I’ve finished high school. Study day at my mate’s house turned into study lunch and three hours of playing handball in the driveway, talking over dates and figures for the exam. About four o’clock the heat has finally set in and the way-to-early taste summer has absolutely overstayed its welcome. I get on my bike and head for home.
I’m about halfway into a half-hour ride home, most of it along some pretty crummy road, and BANG! – a burst tyre. I don’t know how I manage not to go arse-over-head but somehow I wrestle the bike to the side of the road. Shit. I don’t want to walk the bike home like this – I’ll end up replacing the wheel as well as the tyre. My bearings come back to me though and I realise I’m not far from Gordon and Dina’s place.
Gordon and Dina are friends of my dad and live barely a street away, so I make my way there. The screen door is locked but the front door is clearly open; they must be around the back of the house. I move around the side of the house, making a ruckus as I come through the side gate. Gordon and Dina are out on the back deck sunbaking, Gordon looking like he’s in a coma and Dina is reading the latest Jackie Collins. She sees me and lifts her sunglasses up onto the top of her head.
“Hello, stranger,” she smiles, a big mouthful of bright Polynesian teeth like a flash of lightning in her deeply tanned, olive skin.
“Hi Di,” I say. “Bike crapped out on me. Mind if I use your phone?” (In a world before mobile phones…)
“Go right ahead,” she says. “Grab something cold from the fridge, while you’re at it.”
I lean the bike against the back of the house and climb the stairs to the deck. Gordon looks dead, despite the shallow breathing I see in the rise and fall of his slight paunch, still visible as he lies on his back. He’s a tall man, bit of a Chesty Bond type with blue eyes and blonde hair going white, ex-football player, but like many ex-sportsmen he’s gone to seed somewhat. Good for him he managed to get the love of a gorgeous woman and keep her. Dina is from New Zealand, an exotic Maori-Polynesian blend of beauty with beautiful dark olive skin, long curly black hair, deep brown eyes surrounded by smile-lines. She’s slender without being skinny, with generous hips that don’t leave her pear-shaped, small breasts that don’t leave her flat-chested by any means. I had already whacked off to her in the privacy of my bedroom many times and now it looked like I’d be doing it again in her family bathroom.
Lucky for me their kids, daughters Gray and Janey were away at boarding school, paid for by a compensation settlement provided to Gordon for something I never quite got the details about from my dad. Gordon and Dina both had part-time jobs, where they had to work very little to maintain what they had. Their house was actually smaller than ours but somehow felt more homely. I step into the living room, pick up the phone, and make the call.
“Hello? Is Bob Smith there, please?”
The voice seems a little distant on the phone but Anna, a coworker of my father, recognises my voice. “Your dad’s not here, honey,” she says warmly. “You remember what day it is, don’t you?”
Facepalm time. “Anniversary.” Dad was taking Mum up the coast for the weekend. I have the run of the house… or will, once I get home.
“You bet. He lit out of here early, maybe an hour ago? Said to tell you not to drink his booze but he left you some flash money in the microwave.” Anna chuckles. “Microwave, huh?”
Classic Smith family security there. “Yep.”
I can almost hear her shrug. “Whatever works, hon. You okay?”
“My bike cra…um, my bike had a tyre blowout. I was hoping for a lift home but I think I’ll be okay.”
Anna is unconvinced. “You’re sure? Katrina says she hates blowouts. You know she’s back for a break, don’t you?”
Katrina is Anna’s daughter and something of a competitive cyclist. She’s usually tooling around Europe but sometimes she heads home for a double-hit of summer. Since Anna’s husband died suddenly a few years ago, Katrina’s been making sure to come back home a bit more frequently, I think. Athletic, like her father. Stunning, like her mother.
“No, I didn’t know that.”
Anna sounds like she’s smiling. “You know we’re just down the highway a ways. I’ll drop in tomorrow and bring lunch and you can catch me and Katrina up on how things are going with your exams. Your dad tells us nothing here.” I tell him nothing. “Sound okay?”
Gorgeous woman on the deck outside, two gorgeous women bringing me lunch? What am I, am idiot?
“Anna that’s too much. Thanks. Maybe Katrina’ll save me down at the cyclery from being ripped off too much. I’m thinking about upgrading the bike…”
I can practically hear Anna clapping her hands. “It’s settled then. See you tomorrow.”
I leave my bag on the lounge and make my way down the hallway, swinging the bathroom door shut behind me. Anna’s voice, bahis firmaları Dina’s body – I feel like I’ve got an LAPD police flashlight in my pants. I flip up the seat on the toilet and lean over to my left, trying to catch a glimpse of Dina and Gordon on the deck. I can just see Dina through the gap between their banana lounges…
I roll up the front of my T-shirt underneath itself and undo my shorts and let them drop to my ankles. A tiny bit of pre-cum is drooling out of the tip of my dick and I roll it over the glans with a fingertip as I begin to stroke gently but firmly.
I’m not quite lost in what I’m doing when I hear a noise in the hallway. I just manage to position myself in front of the toilet as Gordon blearily blunders in.
“Oh, hey – ” he starts, “Hi, sorry, Dina said you were here but – sorry.”
“Cheers, Gordon, yeah won’t be a moment.”
He turns to the hallway, waving a hand behind him. “Take your time, son, I’ll take care of it by the lemon tree…”
I take a deep breath but the moment’s gone.
I wait for a few more breaths until I’m actually able to use the toilet, then flush and wash up.
As I walk into the kitchen to get a drink, Dina passes close by me heading back into the house. I lean close against the door jamb on my side, Dina does the same on hers, a little too close, but I’m already heading into the kitchen and barely register that the tie at the side of her bikini has come undone.
She turns and asks how my dad is.
“On his anniversary weekend away,” I reply, chuckling. “I was going to ask if you or Gordon could give me a lift home?”
“Sure, no problem,” Dina smiles, re-tying the side of her bikini without even looking at what she’s doing. “You might have to stay for dinner though. It’ll be a few hours, I think, before either of us are fit to drive.”
We look out the back door at where Gordon is standing against the lemon tree by the back fence. It’s hard to know by his lean if he’s asleep again.
“It might have to be me who gives you the ride tonight,” Dina says.
“That’s OK,” I reply, “I’m easy.” Dina nods and turns to head back down the hallway.
I open the fridge and there it is, the golden nectar that is Bundaberg Ginger Beer. With a speed I could only have learned from watching mine and my friends’ parents opening old-fashioned beer cans, I have the top off in no time and I’m enjoying the first mouthful. I lean on the sink and look out the kitchen window, watching Gordon come up the steps at the far end of the deck and bend over to root around in the ice at the bottom of the Esky. He slaps himself with handfuls of the cold water, shivering like he’s having a fit, then he reaches down again and pulls out a large water bottle. In a fit of prescience, perhaps he’s trying to sober up a bit.
Drawing a large swig from the bottle he sets it down beside his banana chair, lies back down on it and looks very much like he’s going back to sleep. His faded blue boards shorts show dark splashes where either the water he’s been throwing around – or that he was expelling earlier – have left their mark. I shake my head and turn around, leaning back against the sink, when I hear a clatter and Dina cursing.
I put the glass bottle down on the breakfast table in the eating nook to my left, then head right, into the hallway and move quickly toward the noise. I can hear Dina moving on the carpet of the master bedroom – these old houses were all made off barely a dozen plans. I could navigate this house blindfolded.
“Are you OK?” I ask.
“No,” she calls, “can you help me up?”
I step into Dina and Gordon’s bedroom and it looks like she’s stepped back down off a stool in front of her wardrobe, and tripped somehow. I step over to where she’s lying on the floor, limbs akimbo. “Let me help you up – cross your arms for me?”
She crosses her arms under her breasts and kneeling by her head I reach under her shoulders and lift her up by her elbows, cradling her upper arms in mine. She tries to stand but ends up bringing us both crashing down on the bed.
I look up to see where we’ve landed and I’m sprawled on my back, one arm under Dina, who’s half sprawled on top of me, one arm out to stop herself rolling off the bed away from me and the other splayed up above us both. Her face is close and I can feel her breath in my face.
“My hero,” she smiles, and she rolls over and plants a kiss on my lips. Her skin is soft against my arm and she smells like coconut and she’s still kissing me…
Dina reaches over and holds onto my shoulder, leaning in closer, her lips moving gently against mine. I can feel her tongue trying to gain access to my mouth and the shock finally passes and I’m kissing her back. She gives in to a small moan and pulls back just a bit; our eyes meet and she smiles that huge smile of hers.
“There,” she says, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?” A little dazed, I shake my head and, leaning steadily on her left side, kaçak iddaa she runs her hand down my arm, then reaching up to my should runs her fingertips across my chest and down my belly. The tent in my shorts reveals something *is* hard.
“Young men,” she murmurs. “Feels too long since I’ve had a young man… and I’ve been watching you for some time.” She chuckles throatily and says, “I suppose I don’t need to try to set you up with Gray now, do I, to get you to come over here…?”
I shake my head, grinning broadly. “Hell, no,” I murmur, “but what about Gordon?”
She lifts her head and looks over to the door. “I’m sure he’s fast asleep on the deck. Which gives us at least a while…” Dina starts to push up my T-shirt and audibly catches her breath as my belly and chest come into view. I’m not athletic by any means but I’m young and still fairly lean, enjoying my youthful, star-like metabolism. I’ll turn out like my dad, no doubt, but not yet, not soon.
Dina runs her fingernails teasingly down from under the collar of my shirt, which I take as a sign and crunch forward slightly, yanking – and trying not to rip – my T-shirt out from under my body. It ends up by the pillows above us at the top of the bed and Dina starts working the button at zip at the front of my pants.
It’s going to go all the way, I think to myself. Fuck me.
Yes, yes she will. Heheheh…
Dina is still lying across my right arm and I can feel with the tips of my fingers the ends of the ties to her bikini top. I try hard to discern the loops from the ends and finally, in a burst of confidence, pull one end smoothly out from the knot. I can see the edges of Dina’s eyes crinkle in a smile, even as I feel the weight of her released breasts on my chest. She stops trying to undo my shorts with one hand and swings her right leg over both of mine, sitting up straight and resting on my thighs.
“Very smoothly done, young man,” she grins. “Not the first time?”
I smile crookedly. “I figured it’d be more welcome now than it usually is with the girls at pool parties at school. Some of them, anyway…”
Dina raises an eyebrow, then pouts. “You mean I won’t your first?”
The look on my face clearly says it all, given how tied-up my tongue feels. “No – I mean yes! Absolutely! I’ve only got this far in my dreams…”
Dina smiles broadly and says, “Well, let’s make some of those dreams come true.”
The tiny triangles of her bikini top barely cover areolae as broad across as my pinkie finger and as she lifts the flimsy top over her head and shakes her messy hair out of the strings and fabric, her nipples are revealed to be as thick and long as the top of my pinkie finger too. She sighs and stretches her body like a cat, reaches jazz-hand fingers to the ceiling as I simply look up at her and take everything in. It’s hard to imagine in the moment that I might forget it but I still do my best to commit the situation to memory, whatever comes of it.
Dina reaches down and with both hands renews her attack on my shorts. Now with both hands free, I lean up a little and run them up both sides of Dina’s body, from her thighs, along her torso, to under her arms, then trace my fingers along the undersides of her arms and the tops of her forearms until four hands are resting on the buckle of my shorts. I can feel her hands shaking and I suddenly realise she might not be so confident in the situation as she appears.
I lace my fingers in hers and gently push her up and I lay back on the bed, until our arms are outstretched and she is leaning, her back curved, her hair dangling down behind her. She looks so beautiful in the dim half-light of the bedroom, the blinds down to keep out the heat of the day. I begin to pull her back down towards me, even as I sit up, until we loosen our fingers and embrace one another. The feel of her breasts crushed between us against my chest is like a hot-water bottle and our mouths find one another, until we are hungrily pashing like two thirteen-year-olds at a high school disco.
Her skin and hair smell like coconut and her mouth tastes like salt and wine. I can feel sweat beginning (finally!) to start trickling down my back from my hairline and I’m smearing just a few drops across her back, which feels warm, yet cooler than my own body feels. My body feels like it’s ashes in a barbecue, still hot from a fire and being brought back to life by the bellows action of a fantasy coming true.
Dina breaks off the kiss and leans back. “God you’re hot,” she says, running her hands down my arms until she’s holding my hands in hers. She gets up off the end of the bed and steps over to the bedroom door, poking her head through and looking like she’s listening to outside. I can hear nothing.
She steps back in and closes the door gently, then presses a switch by the door. It’s not the light but a ceiling fan I didn’t even realise was there. It starts up lazily but gradually is spinning at a good rate – not fast but creating a very kaçak bahis welcome breeze.
Dina steps over to the bed and reaches down as if to undo the ties on the side of her bikini bottoms but I hold my hands up. “Please, don’t,” I say. “Let me.”
She smiles and stays where she’s standing, beckoning me over the bare three feet from the end of the bed. I wait a moment to memorise this vision too: Botticelli’s Venus, with glossy, curly black hair; darkly gleaming olive skin; generous handfuls of breasts; her final modesty covered by a string-tied bikini bottoms. I get up off the bed and step over to her.
I haven’t realised until now that I’m slightly taller than Dina. She stands maybe an inch, and inch and a half, shorter than me but we’ve never stood so close before – I’ve never noticed. I lean down and kiss her lightly in the mouth, her lower lip as she reflexively opens her mouth to mine, one side of her chin, then down her neck, my lips tracing a line down her collarbone and along the top of one breast, lightly flicking a nipple as I move my mouth to the other and do the same, and before she can put her hands behind my head to hold it there, my hands catch hers and pin them gently at the small of her back. I look up as I hear her breath catch in her throat and she half-steps backwards to lean against the wall, looking up to the ceiling and closing her eyes. I take a knee and continue my journey down one side of her belly, peppering the barely visibly stretch marks with baby kisses until that last triangle of fabric is inches from my face.
I rest my forehead on the bottom of her belly as I breathe in deeply, trying to remember this scent, to keep hold of it. My cock is uncomfortably hard and pressing against the flies of my boxers and my shorts, the buttons and the zip strangely painfully pleasurable. Oh, this is going to fuck me up…
Dina is breathing more heavily too and as I release her hands to free up my own for my next tasks, hers flutter down to my head, one resting on the top of my head, the other on her belly. I run my hands up Dina’s legs, cupping her calves until I reach the small of her knees, then splaying my fingers and gently pulling the flesh of the backs of her thighs outward until I reach the tops of her legs and each hand is cupping an arse-cheek. I breathe in deeply and exhale raggedly, causing Dina to shiver slightly and move both her hands to my head, pulling me harder against her.
I finally reach my hands to the ties at the sides of her bikini bottoms, now more certain of myself and being able to see with my peripheral vision some of the strings holding them up. Grasping the ends of the ties in each hand, I draw my hands smoothly out to the sides and the ties undo at the same time. My face is holding the front panel of her bottoms in place but I feel the miniscule weight of the back panel dropping down, so I lean up, gently pressing the top of my head into Dina’s belly and I watch close-up as her bikini bottoms tumble to the floor.
Dina gasps and pushes the back of my head down and all I can feel against my nose and my lips is the coarse wiry curls of her pubes. The aroma is much clearer now, salt again, and a kind of sweetness too and as I kiss the flat of her pussy I can feel under my lips the slippery slit open up, moisture all along its edges.
My tongue is reaching out before I know what I’m doing and I lap as far as it will stick out from the bottom of her cunt to the top. Dina’s breathing is more ragged and I feel one hand leave my head and her hips push forward harder into my face. I keep kissing and licking, practically Frenching Dina’s pussy and as I give another long lick, my tongue meets her fingers coming into her cunt from behind and underneath. She deftly touches my tongue with her fingertips before sinking them into the folds of her pussy, and I kneel down further to change the angle of my own attack.
As I do so, Dina takes both hands and pushes down hard on my shoulders. I’m not sure what she’s doing until I feel her getting her balance and lifting her right leg and resting it on my left shoulder. Her right hand is pressing up against the wall behind her, her left hand now gripping my right shoulder with vice-like strength, and I can hear her force her breathing to slower and become more measured. It’s hard to see, with the darkness of the room and the too-close proximity to my task, but I let the feeling under my tongue be my guide and it seems to direct me true. My own balance is a little off, though, and while on my knees I lean forward onto the wall with my left hand. I feel Dina adjust her leg on my shoulder and soon we are both solidly planted against wall and floor, leaning on one another, dissolving our attention into the pleasures of the moment.
With my right hand now free to roam, I reach up under Dina’s arse and squeeze her left cheek, massaging it gently and enjoying the feel of her now slightly sweat-slicked skin. She moans softly, breathing a little faster and I can imagine her eyes closed and mouth slightly open. Her left hand is no longer on my head and I can only assume, if pornography has taught me anything, that she is massaging her breasts and nipples as I continue my own ministrations.