“Instatiable.” It’s all the comment you can muster, and you roll
your eyes for added effect. You must be tired. Ah well, at least
your body is still fully functional. I look to the open sundeck
door, and I hear the voices of people out in the commons. You see
the look on my face.
“No. If you want it, the door and the curtains stay open.” Your
voice is stern. My lust has overcome any inhibitions, so I impudently
agree.
“And you said I was the wicked one! Fine. Have it your way.”
Besides. It’s not like I know anyone here. My face meets yours and
our tongues entwine in a lingering kiss. Our sticky-sweet lips
continue to meld, as I slide myself slowly down on your fully erect
cock. My hard nipples brush your chest through the satin shift.
With one hand, I guide you into me, with the other, I pull your head
to mine, so as not to break the kiss. My fingers are get lost in your
thick, dark hair. As I slide that last bit down to the base of your
shaft, you gasp.

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You grab my wrist with one hand, extract the book with the other, and
pull me down on top of you. I happily comply.
“You. Are a wicked thing. You think you are going to get more out
of me after last night and this morning?!” Your words are
admonishing, but the look in your eyes says something entirely
different.
I laugh, and mock an Oliver Twist accent, “Please suh, can I have some
mo-ah?”
Your long fingers probe the wetness between my legs.

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Finally, our hunger is sated, and we recline back on the bed. You,
with your head on the pillows, me, laying the other way, with my toes
tickling your arm pit. I lick off sticky fingers, put a pillow on
your feet, and reach beside the bed to pull up a book I have
purchased, just for this occasion. It is a collection of erotic
stories. As you sip on your coffee and eye that last cracker, I
begin reading aloud to you. The story has the desired revitalizing
effect.

Your cock begins to stir, to stiffen as the words roll
languidly off my tongue. I softly move my free hand to your groin, and
begin drawing circles on and around your balls. I stroke the
lengthening shaft gently, my touch getting more firm as the story
heats up. You move the plates off the bed, and on to the night
table. The story is almost done, but you don’t wait for the finish.

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When I return, you are looking more awake, though somewhat rumpled.
I suppose I must look about the same. Your eyes light up hungrily
when you spot the plates of food. It’s almost the same look you
gave me last night, when I put on that short jungle-print sundress,
and flashed my bare rear-end at you. The same look you wore, when
you later removed that dress, rather roughly, from my body…. I put
the plates on the bed, and we begin to feast. Until that moment, I
didn’t realize how ravenous I was.
“Wow. This is wonderful. I’m starved.” I am delighted by your
obvious enjoyment, since I love to give pleasure in many ways. You
lick your fingers seductively, and brush your hand over my breast as
you reach for another laden cracker. The grapes and strawberries
are tart, tangy, – a delicious offset to the sweetness of the
preserves and the smooth creaminess of the cheeses. The slices of
apple are crisp, the melon and mango, juicy and quenching.

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You smile and sit up in bed. “Mmmmmm. Thank-you. I *thought*
something smelled wonderful, though it was slightly different from
your usual musky aroma…” I chuckle and take a sip of my coffee.
Then I put it back on the night table.
“I’ll be right back. I have something more.” Your relaxed but
puzzled expression follows me as I leave the room, and make my way
down to the kitchen.

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I place the cups on the bedside table, and tear open the curtains,
gasping when I realize the sliding door to the deck has been open all
night. And all morning. If there are any people in the adjacent
condos, I am now too embarassed to meet them…. I look out at the
sparkling lake below. There is a special beach on the other side,
that I am anxious to show you. But that can wait till later.

Turning to your still dozing form, I pull back the single sheet
covering your delicously hairy, naked body. You grunt and roll onto
your side, away from me. A hand half-heartedly gropes ineffectually
for the sheet. I start nibbling on your ear, working my way down
your neck, down your side, to your ticklish spots. With my hand, I
pinch your bare backside gently, teasingly. You begin to stir,
growl, and reach across lazily to grab me, your arm still sluggish
and heavy from sleep. I dodge it easily, as your eyelids finally
open, and I place a coffee in your open hand.


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I put the coffee maker on and go to work slicing some apple, melon,
and mango. These, plus strawberries and grapes, I place on a plate
with some assorted cheeses – brie, camembert, grueyere. I top this
plate off with small dark and milk chocolates. I unbox the crackers
and spread herbed cream havarti on them. Then I add a smear of
salmon pate to some, plum and rum preserve on others. I slice
grueyere onto some more crackers, topping them with Cabernet
Sauvignon jelly. I arrange the dressed crackers on another plate,
leaving some plain on the side. The jar of jelly, complete with
spoon, gets placed in the middle of the plate. The coffee is now
ready, so I prepare two cups and take them upstairs.
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C I awake to the hazy morning light creeping in through a crack in the
curtains. I feel the warmth of your body still pressed close to
mine, in exhausted slumber. Sleeping the sleep of the dead, as it
were, or at least, in our case, freshly killed…. I gently remove
your arm from my waist and pad off to the bathroom. On the way
there, I pick up my satin shift, and slip it on. It feels
deliciously cool in the morning heat. The cloying scent of the
pines outside the window tells me it will be another hot and humid
day. After a bit of freshening up, I recover my watch from a pile of
hastily removed clothing. It’s nearly noon. Last night was
delightful, as was this morning, but we didn’t get more than 3 hours
sleep at a stretch, in between periods of play. I leave you
sleeping, and quietly make my way downstairs to the kitchen. I knew
this would happen, so I have some treats waiting in the fridge.

My shirt comes to just below my butt, so I had him reach for
it and we took a walk over to a nearby grove of willows. You can
imagine the rest. After we were through, it was getting to be
late afternoon and I let him go–I don’t think he ever learned my
name, and I don’t know his last name. But that beach’ll never be
the same, and the willows are now named the “Mr. Bill Memorial
Grove”–at least by me.

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I opened my eyes and the other couples were not watching us
at all. I had Bill push up for a moment and I rolled over to
take him into my arms. He kissed me gently and I used my lips to
nibble his. My legs were together but his cock felt just fine,
resting just above my clit, very clearly a situation we both
wanted to do something about.

After awhile he
sat across the top of my things and began to work my back again,
but this time very clearly he was reaching around to my front to
my nipples. Then he simply lay down on my back and I could feel
his very hard cock nestled into my crack; it felt fine!

The sunscreen makes me glisten, though I was already
beginning to do so just from the sun’s heat. I spread it all
over, being sure to let him see how I tucked it under my top and
massaged my inner thighs. I lifted first one leg and then the
other (a little Jane Fonda workout, here!) as I did the backs of
the calves.

Just as I was finishing my front, my audience got up from
his chair and walked over–a bit stiffly, as he was trying to
hide a nice erection. His buns hardly wiggled as he walked–a
real nice ass. He offered to put the oil on my back (men are SO
predictable!). Well, I thought I’d let that one linger a bit as
I opened a Calistoga and gave it a nice suck, and then found out
his name was Bill, that he had gone to the same JC as I, and that
he was indeed a few years younger than me. I handed him the oil
and flipped over onto my stomach. I reached behind and undid the
knot at my back and asked him to go ahead.