She was clothed in a very brief bikini, one which she hadn't dared to wear to the beach — a mere two scraps of cloth around her generous breasts and hips, scarcely containing their bounty. She ran her oiled hand across the tops of her exposed breasts and shoulders, down the sleek curve of her belly and over her firm-fleshed thighs. The touch of her own hand made her sigh again, luxuriously, and she wished she could strip off the two tiny pieces of cloth and offer herself nude to the sun, like some pagan goddess. She laughed at the thought, wondering what her staid ex-husband or her present boyfriend would think if they came upon her naked in the back yard.
"Of course, it is very private," she mused, playing with the thought and then rejecting it as too dangerous. "Still, I could lower my straps." So thinking, she untied the suit at her neck and removed the straps, baring her chest to the sun, her breasts swelling upward, only the nipples covered. She ran her hand over her body again, admiringly, shivering at the sensations her lazy hand evoked. She squinted around the yard. It was as if she were completely alone in the world — the heat shimmered in the air, and no sound broke the stillness of the afternoon. She smiled to herself as her hand continued its journey over her body, spreading the oil in a thin film and massaging it deeply into her skin. She lay back and relaxed, emptying her mind of all but the sensations of her body. Her hand moved with a will of its own now, caressing her breasts lightly, rubbing her belly in rounded circles, touching her hips briefly in passing. One finger slipped under the tiny bit of cloth circling her hips and teasingly touched her pubic hair. Barbara gasped at the contact, but did not stop, only arching her hips slightly to give her hand freer rein. She masturbated quite frequently, trying to satisfy the urges of her healthy body, and had found that she could please herself far better than her ex-husband ever had.
Or anyone else, Barbara mused, her mind jumping away from the thought of her spouse and dwelling briefly on her present lover, who had not so far gotten up the nerve to do more than kiss her good night. Except one, her thoughts strayed unwillingly to the one perfect sexual encounter in her life, an experience that had left her weak and shaking with release. She tried to stop thinking about him, but the feelings evoked by her hand were too strong and her mind stayed stubbornly fixed on the image of her one-time lover.
Tanned, youthful, magnificent young Jim. Oh, why haven't you at least phoned me, Jim? Am I just an old prune that you found interesting for one lonely night? Is that all I meant to you? So you have your college coeds, you told me about them, remember? But don't you see? I love you, that's the difference. Those young girls can't be to you what I can be to you! Remember what you said, cuddled in my arms? That you really didn't know what you would do after you graduated? I can help you, Jim. Help you do anything you want.
Anything you want. Oh, don't you remember what you wanted to do to me that day? And did. I can never forget it.
Chapter Two
She remembered how his strong body pumped in even strokes to enter her roughly, making her writhe and heave under him as she soared to the pinnacles of desire.
Remembering, her finger slipped inside her bikini and dug at her pubes. She moaned and opened her legs, letting the finger slide into her moist canal. Oblivious to anything but her own recollections of lust and present need, she fingered herself brutally, hoping to giver herself the release she needed. Her finger slipped easily into her cunt, sliding back and forth, around and around, sending twinges of pleasure through her nerves. Barbara closed her eyes against the sun, feeling it press against her. It was almost like being fucked by the sun, she thought in a daze, as her body responded to her finger and her hips began to buck up and down in the movements of intercourse. Her lover's face swam before her eyes, behind closed eyelids. She could see his youthful face, contorted with lust, as he had plunged into her body, giving her joy that she hadn't known possible. She had left the next morning and had never seen him again. Barbara Anderson mourned her lost lover as she masturbated frantically in her back yard, her body quaking with remembered lust. She could feel her orgasm coiling in the pit of her stomach, ready to explode and flood her. She gritted her teeth and slid another finger into her bikini, searching for the extended nub of her clitoris. As she touched it, her body shivered and her cunt poured forth a quantity of pussy juices, drenching her fucking hand.
"Oh… fuck… fuck me, Jim… oh… God! Fuck meee…" She strummed her clitoris with her finger. Waves of heat engulfed her as her hand sank deeper into her cunt, probing the walls, scraping her insides and making her shudder with orgasm. She bucked against his hand, imagining it to be her young lover's prick, wishing with all her heart that it was. She needed a man inside her, a real man, not a drunken lout like her husband. She groaned in dismay, feeling her orgasm subside and dissipate leaving her strangely empty inside. She had cum, the physical motions had all been there, but something was missing.
I need a man, she thought to herself, lying in her back yard, her legs spread, her fingers still inserted in her cunt. She was exhausted, drained. With a great effort, she opened her eyes and squinted around, wondering dazedly what time it was. Her eyes passed over the husky young man standing in the doorway, then returned. She stared at him a minute in complete horror, a cold snake of fear hitting her vitals at the discovery. She wondered feverishly who he was. For a minute, she thought it was Jim, but it couldn't be, and he was staring at her so oddly.
God! she thought, he saw me jerking off, stood right there and watched. Suddenly realizing that her hand was still inside her pants, she jerked it out as if it burned her and hid it behind her, childishly.
"Who… what are you doing here? Who are you?" she managed to croak, wishing she could hide. It was bad enough to jerk off in your own yard remembering the past without people coming in to stare at you!
She looked at the man, trying to arrange her features in a mask of severity as she demanded for him to explain his presence. She drew herself up and tried to regain her dignity. Then she noticed that he wasn't paying any attention to what she was saying, he was just staring at her, a peculiar light in his eyes. Her mind flew back, he was looking at her in the exact same way her lover at the motel had, his eyes glued to her body. He started toward her.
"Hey! What are you doing?" she called out. She looked at the man in alarm, comparing him inadvertently to her other lover. They were both about the same age, but this one was larger, huskier, with broad shoulders that were bronzed from the sun. He had longish blond hair that curled around his face and blue eyes that were probably intelligent when not glazed with lust. For that was what gave them their strange sheen, there was no mistaking it.
Barbara drew back as the man approached, feeling a stab of excitement despite her fear. "I'll scream if you don't leave," she promised. The man didn't seem to notice. He walked over to her and stared down at her, his body casting a shadow over her. She squinted at him, trying to see his face against the sun. "What do you want?" she managed to croak, her hand going to her throat. God, she thought. I'm all alone. He'll probably rape me. She shifted her weight, trying to ignore the pang of lust that coursed through her at the lewd thought. One part of her urged her to let him, to open her thighs to this stranger, welcoming him to her recesses.