The Pool Party

Clara tried not to look as Roddy and his friends fooled around by the pool, each of them showing off their washboard abs and tight, sexy asses. She hadn't realised tiny swim suits had come back in for the boys, and tried not to think what it said about her that the sight of her stepson's friends in their pool gear fuelled her fantasies on those long afternoons she spent playing with Jessica rabbit and her friends. Not Roddy, obviously - she wasn't some kind of pervert. Roddy was her stepson, and to her he would always be the geeky 13 year old she had coaxed from his grief after the passing of his mom. But some of the others - James, for example, or Andreas -well, they were fine enough to fuel anyone’s fantasy. Andreas took that moment to heave himself out of the pool, water streaming over his muscular chest and biceps. His Greek heritage gave him skin that turned the colour of molten caramel as soon as the sun came out, his thick dark hair slicked down the nape of his neck - longer than was fashionable, but the perfect length to run your nails through, to tug on… Clara had a recurring fantasy, using the hair to steer that sexy mouth, those pouty lips exactly where she wanted them … 

"Hey Mrs S," Clara jumped, realising once again she'd been gazing out at the scene in front of her, lost in fantasies that had dampened her panties and sent her pulse racing. Now Andreas was paused, framed in the open doorway like a Greek god, sending one of those sexy, toe curling smiles her way. 

"You need a hand with that?" He asked, looking at the heavy tray she carried.

"Oh! Oh no, Andreas, thank you," she realised she was stammering like a school girl. The tray - piled with cookies and glasses of lemonade - rattled slightly as though to give away the lie. "I was just bringing this out to you boys," she added, forcing her legs into motion, heading in his direction. 

"You're the best, Mrs S," he stepped to one side, allowing her a clear path to the low table by the pool. She might have imagined it, but for a split second his eyes seemed to flicker, as though he were appraising her body, encased in the grey lycra of her favourite yoga outfit. Setting the tray down, she couldn't help but glance back, to find him openly checking out her ass as she bent over. It sent another rush of heat to her core. Jessica rabbit would be getting a second workout today. 

She tore her eyes away from the hungry look on his face and straightened up slowly. 

"Boys! Snacks!" She called to the tangle of limbs horseplaying in the shallow end. A range of "thanks!" And "thanks Mrs S!"s came from them, and she waved her welcomes. Turning, she noticed with a jump that Andreas had moved several feet closer, and that his previously tightly packed trunks appeared to have swollen further. Her mouth dried instantly, her mind presenting her with an image of the two of them, slammed against a wall, tongues tangling frantically. It was all she could do to keep steady as she walked past him into the house. 

"Looking good, Mrs S," was all he said, lips curling in that slow, sexy smile. 

***

Unable to wait, Clara took one of her toys into the shower with her, the small waterproof ears nuzzling into her clit as she searched for release. She kept her eyes closed, locked in fantasy, and let herself be vocal, enjoying the way her cries of pleasure echoed off the marble shower room as the hot water cascaded over her sensitive skin. But the climax eluded her, and she knew why. She ached to be filled. Despite what her regularly scheduled playtime might suggest, Clara loved her husband. He was kind, considerate, loving - a great father to Roddy - even a generous lover. But sex with him left her unsatisfied. From her earliest boyfriends, Clara had been trained to take - and now to want - generously proportioned men. The feeling of a fat cock sliding into her from behind, the pressure as they filled her, overfull even - was something she associated with intense pleasure. Rod snr - despite his name - simply didn’t measure up. But now, as she showered with her toy, her climax eluded her, and that was why. She thought longingly of her 10 inch dildo, wrapped in her bedside drawer. Giving voice to one more moan - half pleasure, half frustration - she flicked off her vibe, and was startled to hear an answering moan roll around the room. More curious than scared, she opened her eyes and turned. 

Standing on the other side of the glass screen was Andreas, hand fisted around the base of his cock, jutting proudly from his tiny swimtrunks. An intense heat rose in her as she scanned him - his eyes foggy with lust, his pecs hard, the ladder of his abs running down and then … even with his fist around the base of it, it protruded thick and solid from his hand for another four or five inches. And the girth! Her mouth was practically watering at the sight of it. Unable to resist, she took a step towards the shower screen, one hand sliding to the spot between her legs which was clamouring for attention. His gaze followed that hand, she saw him swallow, and pump his fist, just once. A pearlescent bead appeared on the tip of his mighty cock, and she felt her legs tremble. She met his eyes, and licked her lips in invitation. He took it, crossing the room and entering the shower stall, filling the space with the scent of his desire. Unable to resist, Clara dropped to her knees, licking that delectable blob of pre-cum from the tip of him, then swirling her tongue around the head as she sucked it into her mouth. She heard the grunt, and felt him stumble, then his hands reached her shoulders as though to steady himself. As she took his cock deeper into her throat, those hands gripped her, and a deep moan ripped out of him. The sound sent another flood of heat through her, pooling in her most sensitive areas. Tugging the swim suit to one side she explored him, gripping the base of him, caressing his swollen sac, which was smooth and hair free. She eyed it, curiously, transferring her tongue's attention to his balls, tonguing and then sucking at them, until he whimpered with the pressure of it. Then she returned her attention to his cock, lathering it with long strokes of her tongue, teasing out more droplets of precum, lapping them up. 

“Fuck,” he gasped, gripping her head and tugging her away from him. “I - you-” he was panting. He tugged her to her feet, and, apparently unable to find the words, pulled her into a hard, frantic kiss. His lips were as plump and sensual as she’d imagined, his tongue probing deep into her mouth, exploring, tangling. She reached again for his cock, wanting to feel it’s silky length, but he captured her hands, pinning them above her head as he pressed her to the cold hard tiles of the shower. In retaliation she caught his plump lower lip between her teeth, moaning as he pressed the length of himself against her. She bucked her hips, desperate for him, but he pulled away. Instead he trailed kisses, hot and heavy down her neck and the slopes of her small breasts, to where her nipples rose, begging for his attention. He teased, tongue swirling but not quite approaching the aching nubs and she arched her back, tugging gently on the hand that pinned her arms above her head, holding her there, needy and exposed. His only response was a wicked, knowing smile that only fanned the flames. His teeth grazed one nipple, then his tongue swept over it, sending a lightning bolt of sensation through her. Then he was on his knees, guiding her to perch on the tiled shelf that ran the width of the shower room so he could spread her legs, exposing her to him fully. She shivered at the sight of him, where she had so often fantasised, kneeling before her, his hunger hot and heavy in his eyes. She couldn’t resist running her fingers through his thick dark hair, gripping it, guiding him to where she needed him. Even so, he teased, dropping kisses on the sensitive skin on the stop of her thighs, letting his stubble scrape and following up with soothing kisses, licks of his expressive tongue. She was whimpering as he hooked her legs over his shoulders, allowing her to feel his hot breath on the core of her, yet still refusing to make a move. 

“Tell me what you want,” he spoke roughly, his eyes pinning her with his own need. 

“You,” she gasped, acutely aware of his fingertip tracing the edges of her labia, circling, teasing, refusing to give her what she needed. 

“Me, how?” he cocked his head, blowing cool air across her clit and she whimpered again. But he remained stock still, staring at her. Your move. It was sexy as all hell. 

“Your mouth.” She told him, trying to rein in the part of her that just wanted to jump him and fuck his brains out on the shower floor. When he didn’t move, she threaded her fingers through his hair and tugged him closer to her aching mound. “Lick me.” Something dark flashed in his eyes as he murmured “yes ma’am” - and proceeded to ravage her. His tongue was a revelation. Sliding through her slick folds, it sent sensations coursing through her body. She felt herself levitate as he sucked on her clit, body arching involuntarily as pleasure rushed though her. She could only gasp as the pleasure intensified, her moans rolling around the tiled room. 

“And-and-” she couldn’t manage his name as he slid one, then two fingers inside her, caressing the most secret part of her. She was lost on a sea of sensation, only aware of the twin epicentres building around her clit where his tongue and lips were causing maximum damage, and deep in the core of her, where his fingers were stoking the fires internally. The orgasm was intense and sudden, she felt herself implode, hot liquid gushing from her as her muscles spasmed, until she was a bridge, braced only with her legs on his shoulders and her shoulders against the tiled wall. As her throat locked, her moans subsided and she heard his grunts of pleasure as he continued to lap at her, devouring her with his mouth. He braced her with one hand as she relaxed, panting, quivering from the feeling of his tongue, his mouth, on parts that were still swollen with pleasure. She couldn’t help the whimper that escaped as he withdrew his fingers, using them to brace her legs apart as he licked and sucked. Pausing for breath, he looked up at her, eyes shining with desire. 

“That. was the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he panted along with her. She managed a smile. 

“It was pretty good from up here, too,” He surged upwards on his knees, tugging her to him in another hard, hungry kiss. She could taste her own juices on his mouth, the taste triggering something primitive in her as she slid from the shelf to straddle him on the shower room floor. Roughly, she pushed him back, until she was lying on top of him, tongue battling with his, his erection pressed roughly against her pubic bone - a threat and a promise. Peeling her lips away from his she rose, until she was straddling him, just below his shaft. His cock shot directly upwards, her pussy leaking its excitement all over the base of his shaft and his smooth balls. Holding eye contact, she dipped her fingers into her own dampness, then slid wet fingers over his shaft. The moan that slid from his lips was gratifying. Again, and again she used her own moisture to caress him. 

“Fuck - please,” he gasped, bucking beneath her. She felt a wicked smile creep over her face, enjoying the torture, the power. This time, when she dipped her fingers into her own honey pot, she stretched forward, offering them to his lips. He closed his eyes, sucking on them, sending toe-curling desire into a core already molten from orgasm. Unable to resist, she shifted position, taking the first few inches of his cock inside her. His eyes flew open and he half rose, only to meet her hand, pushing him down, hard. 

“You do as I say,” she commanded, feeling the pleasure as body stretched and accommodated the girth of him. The sense of power was thrilling, but she was also beginning to realise that Andreas might be the biggest she’d ever had - in which case, over enthusiastic love-making could cause an injury. So she held him at bay as she slid down the length of him, feeling her channel softening, widening, stretching to take him. Gently, ever so gently, she rocked on each new inch of him, eyes half closed and head thrown back, lost in the pleasure of real fullness. Finally, with him fully seated inside her, she opened her eyes, to find him gazing at her in dumb supplication. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. 

“You feel so good,” he whimpered. “I can’t -” there was almost panic in his eyes and she smiled as she rocked gently back and forth. “No - I,” she shh’d him, feeling the swelling in the length of him that told him he was ready to come. Still rocking, she slid a hand between them, gripping the base of his cock. His eyes glazed over and she felt the tension slide away as his orgasm approached, firming her grip on his cock as he began to tremble all over. Deep inside, something pulsed in answer to his throbbing and she felt the need - briefly extinguished by her orgasm - begin to tingle. As his body stilled beneath her, she increased the rocking, wanting to feel him moving inside her. 

“What the-?” dark eyes fluttered open, but she pressed her fingers to his lips, before bracing herself on his shoulders. She wanted to ride him. He was rock hard, his orgasm having been abated by her compression of him, and she rode him with the kind of abandon she had dreamed of, filling the room with the sounds of her own pleasure mingled with his moans. She dropped low, pressing her belly and breasts against him, enjoying the friction of skin on skin, especially where they joined, her clit lighting up, adding to the tsunami that was building in her core. 

“Don’t stop,” he gasped, letting her know he was close. 

“Don’t you dare!” she admonished, rocking her hips to take him deep. She was so close, his cock buried deep inside her, the tingle as she scraped her clit over his skin, his hands gripping her ass as he helped her ride him. 

“Oh fuck” wordless moans slid from her lips as she felt the tremble of an approaching orgasm. After that, all she could do was make breathless keening sounds, as he rocked her back and forth, driving her higher and higher, closer and closer. Then she came, feeling her centre implode around his cock, squeezing, trembling. Distantly, she was aware of his shout, and the hot throbbing as he came inside her, her own orgasm milking him dry. But she was a supernova, exploding in some distant corner of the galaxy, pleasure taking her everywhere and nowhere all at once. 

The first thing she realised was that the hot water had run out, cold liquid now sluicing the right side of her body where she sprawled over him. The second was that something hot was dripping out of her, congealing where their bodies were still joined by his softening cock. Sitting up, she winced at the pain in her knees and braced herself to meet his eyes. He was watching her with undimmed admiration, a smug, satisfied smile on his face. She knew her face would look similar - aching joints aside, she felt like the cat that had got the cream. Reaching out a hand, she batted off the tap, turning off the deluge, then hauled herself to her feet, feeling more of their combined juices flowing down her leg. He ignored her outstretched hand, bounding to his feet and adjusting himself, unselfconsciously. She deliberately refused to let her gaze drop below his waist, sensing that to do so might be to set off a second round - and she wasn’t sure she could take it. Her nails had left track marks on his broad shoulders, and he had a bite mark on his neck. She glanced down at her own body, seeing more bite marks on her neck and breasts, stubble burn on her thighs. The worst was her knees - red and sore from riding him on the hard tiles. 

“Whoops,” he said softly, looking entirely unrepentant as he surveyed her, and then his own marks in the full length mirror. Turning, she could see his large hand outlined in red on her ass, where he had grabbed her. His tiny trunks lay on the floor between them and the mirror, and the first feeling of shame crept in. The marks on his body would be visible to everyone at the pool party. 

“What will you tell the others?”

“Well, I thought I’d tell Roddy his step-mom is smoking hot…” he joked. 

“Stop it!” She surveyed the damage, panic mounting at the sound of Roddy’s name. There was no way those marks could be taken as anything other than fingernails, she thought, thinking hard, no way they wouldn’t be spotted the moment he rejoined the others. No way that Roddy wouldn’t ask, wouldn’t wonder where his friend had been … 

“Hey, relax.” He gripped her forearms, and met her gaze. “I’m not an idiot. They think I headed off already.” He gestured to a bundle of clothes she hadn’t noticed, sitting on the laundry basket. Seeing her tense, he slid closer, sliding his arms around her waist and kissed her mouth, softly. Something inside her unfurled at the tenderness, but a kernel of fear remained. 

“You can’t - you mustn’t -” she began.

“I’ll not tell a soul,” he whispered, wrapping her in a tighter embrace. “It’ll be hard not to,” he added. “Because that was unforgettable.” He kissed her again, a longer, slower kiss that set her toes curling. “But I get it. You’re married. Roddy.” He gestured around the bathroom as though it stood in for ‘all this.’

“Thank you,” she whispered, astonished by the sensitivity in his dark brown eyes. “I guess I should …” she looked around at the mess, bottles knocked off the shelves, scattered into the corner of the shower room. 

“Sure,” he smiled one of those devastating smiles, then kissed her once more before exiting the shower. She couldn’t help but enjoy the view as he tugged on his jeans and t-shirt, going commando. He was at the door before she called his name, pointing to where his swimsuit sat, crumpled up on the floor. 

“Keep it,” he told her. “Gives me an excuse to come back.” Despite herself, she felt something stir inside as she wondered when Roddy might be up for giving another pool party.