Sunning By the Pool


It was a hot day and I was bored. I was also broke which put paid to any idea of going someplace. I was stuck at home and daytime TV is the pits. I just mooched around the house, feeling irritable and wondering what I could do to ease my boredom.

I did consider going out into the back yard and doing some tanning. I’d just bought a new bikini in a beautiful teal colour that suited me admirably. OK, it was a little on the brief side, but I had a figure that wasn’t hurt by wearing a very brief bikini. It would probably give my father a heart attack if he saw it, but it did cover the essential parts. I could just hear him saying ‘as long as you don’t sneeze’. He’s quite a master of sarcasm. Still, I’m nineteen and can please myself as to what I wear. (Not that I’d say that to him. He’d have his sarcasm-whip out and start beating me with it.)

The trouble with sun-bathing, apart from the potential of a fatherly heart-attack, was that it was just a bit too hot. There wasn’t any breeze to take the edge off the heat. What I really needed was my own swimming pool.

The thought of a pool brought an idea to my mind, fully grown and ready to be acted on. I’d been speaking to Martin yesterday. He’s the boy next door. He told me that his family were going down to their holiday house out by the lake for the weekend. I’d actually seen them drive off. That meant that there was no-one home and their very nice in-ground pool was being totally unused. It didn’t seem fair to me that such a nice pool should be so unused on such a hot day.

I knew that the Martens wouldn’t object to me having a dip, especially if they didn’t know about it. (Yeah, yeah, I know. The son’s name was Martin Marten. There should be a law about the names people give their children.)

I hopped over the fence, stripped down to my bikini, put on a bit of sunscreen, and laid down to enjoy the sunshine. Any time I got too hot I could just take a quick dip and cool off again.

I’d just had my first quick dip and was getting out again when I dislodged my top slightly. Not enough to flash anyone, but enough for me to see the faintest trace of a tan line. Now I have to admit that any tan lines I got from sunning myself in that bikini would be inconsequential. There was just no way anyone was going to notice them, apart from the one caused by the neck strap of the bikini. Even that would only leave the thinnest of white lines.

I was going to ignore the potential tan lines but the thought of them irritated me for some reason. It occurred to me that I had complete privacy and I could easily go nude with no-one noticing. I’d already noticed that the side gate was closed and locked so no-one would come barging in without me hearing them. You’d be surprised at how fast I’d be able to cover up if I heard someone coming. On second thoughts, if you’re a girl you won’t be surprised in the least.

I stripped off my bikini and lay down on the deck chair, not forgetting to rub some sunscreen into certain strategic areas. I tanned some more and when I got a little too warm I had another dip. Then it was back to the deck chair and some more lovely sunshine.

“I’m glad to see you’re enjoying yourself, Melanie.”

Those words were the first hint I had that I wasn’t alone. Seeing Mr Marten was standing at the foot of the deck chair and I was lying down flat on my back with my legs slightly parted it was way, way, too late to worry about grabbing my bikini. I did swing my legs off the deck chair and sit up, though.

“You’re down at the lake in your holiday home,” I said indignantly. “I saw you drive off.”

He just smiled while I tried to figure out what went wrong. I mean, Mrs Marten had been in the front passenger’s seat and Martin had been in the back.

“Oh. Jeff was driving, wasn’t he,” I mumbled, finally remembering his older son.

He graciously inclined his head, acknowledging the correct guess.

“I suppose you want me to go home now,” I said with a sigh.

“Now why would I suggest anything as silly as that?” he asked me, his eyes blatantly wandering over my body and taking in my charms.

I blushed. It was funny but apart from that first ‘oh my god I’m naked’ reaction I’d completely forgotten that little fact. Feeling his eyes running over me brought it sharply back to mind but there was no way I was going to show embarrassment by trying to cover up.

“Yes, well if you’ll excuse me,” I mumbled, looking around for my bikini and clothes, “I’ll get dressed and out of your güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri way.”

“Don’t leave on my account,” he said, his amusement plain. “I quite enjoy seeing you here.”

“I’ll just bet you do,” I mumbled.

“I’ve already seen everything you have to show and very nice it is, too. By all means, just lie back down and relax again.”

“Yeah,” I grumbled, “with you standing there enjoying the sights.”

“Don’t be silly. I have already enjoyed the sights. If you decide to say I’m going to enjoy the taste and touch.”

Mr Marten was about forty and a big solid man. Would he make a grab at me if I tried to leave, I wondered nervously? I decided that he wouldn’t. For all that he was looking me over and teasing me he was a nice man. He wouldn’t grab me against my will.

While I was thinking this I was also giving him a quick look over. I got a distinct chill down my spine when I noticed the bulge at his groin. Quite a significant bulge it was.

“What do you mean?” I asked, still just a trifle nervous.

“You have a lovely body,” he calmly told me. “If you stay here I’m going to taste you all over, touch you all over, and then get in some healthy exercise with your assistance.”

Well, I couldn’t say I wasn’t being told. I could jump up, dressed, and bolt for home, or I stay where I was and get fucked. I was trying to persuade myself that he wouldn’t really do that but I was lying and I knew it. He most certainly would.

His intentions became clearer by the second as he was calmly stripping off. He’d already taken off his shirt and singlet and was now undoing his belt. I just sat there, blushing and feeling heat rising in my groin, while he started pushing his trousers and jocks down.

When that bulge broke loose from his clothes I could feel the heat inside me turn itself up a notch. The man had ample man-meat available with which to carry out his intentions.

I said something deep and meaningful along the lines of, “ah, urg,” while gesturing vaguely in the direct of his erection. He apparently understood what I meant, which was more than I did.

“Don’t worry,” he told me. “I’m sure you’re quite capable of handling little things like that with no problems.”

If he considered that little I definitely didn’t want to meet one that he called big. He knelt down next to me, one large hand resting on my breasts, and pressing me slightly, facilitating my lying flat my back again. He also helped lift my legs so I was lying down properly, legs nicely parted.

He started with the taste test right off. He gave me a very sweet kiss and then his lips started drifting. He tasted his way along the line of my chin, down the side of my neck, over my shoulder, and settled on my breast. It turned out that he needed to make a very detailed examination of my breasts, his mouth drifting from one to the other and back again, teasing each nipple in turn, gently suckling on them.

When he’d finished with my breasts (although I had no doubt he’d return to them) him mouth travelled on. Across my tummy, over my mons, forcing my legs a little wider while he tasted my lips. Then he continued on, tasting the insides of my thighs, moving slowly down until he finished up at my ankles. The thing that I found odd was that the entire time he was tasting me he didn’t touch me with anything but his mouth.

That changed when he started back up. While his mouth was on one leg his hand was on the other, stroking and rubbing. Back up my legs he went, mouth finally closing upon my mound again, his tongue darting about, sliding between my lips and building on the arousal that he’d so deftly started.

When his mouth moved on a hand remained, continuing to rub me intimately. As I guessed he returned to my breasts, his free hand closing over one while his mouth teased the other. Then it was back up, moving towards my mouth, while his hand stayed behind, rubbing my breasts.

He finally released me, moving back a little. I was a mess of quivering nerves, knowing what was coming and just wishing he’d start before I died of frustration. He slid a hand under my bottom and one under my back and lifted me up away from the deckchair, a quick kick pushing it out from under me. That done he lowered me onto the grass.

“That silly chair would collapse if I joined you on it,” he said and I have to admit he probably had a point.

He reached out a foot and slid it between my ankles, encouraging my legs to spread wider, considerably güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri wider. Then he was rolling over, moving into position between my thighs, his cock looking enormous as it hovered above me.

Until I saw his cock poised above me I hadn’t even realised that there’d been something missing. It has been my experience that a boy’s first move is to whip out his cock and practically thrust it into your hand so you could treasure it. Mr Marten hadn’t bothered. He’d just concentrated on touching me, apparently confident that his cock would be ready and primed for action when he wanted it.

I found myself hitching myself up onto my elbows, wanting to see what he was doing. His fingers spread my lips apart and the tip of his cock pressed against me. I could see and feel it butting against my softness and when he moved his hand away I could see my lips closing over him, holding him.

He leaned more heavily against me, his cock sinking slowly deeper, with me watching as it slowly disappeared inside me. I could feel it, deep inside me, stretching me, making itself at home. I had no intention of pushing to meet it. Something that size could take its own sweet time, getting comfortable without an assist from me. My time would come.

He gave one last push and slapped home, lowering himself to lie on top of me at the same time, his hands coming up to claim my breasts. If I’d stopped to think about it I would have thought that he’d be heavy, lying on me like that, but it just felt right and I was happy to take his weight.

He started moving, slow short movements to start with, with me finally getting my turn and pushing to meet him. His strokes got longer and faster and I kept pace with him, relishing the feel of him inside me. He was quiet as he took me, breathing a little harder but driving in firmly with a slight smile on his face. I’d like to say I was just as quiet, taking him in the same way, but I would be lying.

Right from his first full stroke I was, “Oh, oh, oh, wow, wow, wow, ah, ah, ah,” giving voice loudly as I was carried away by the feelings he was stirring up inside me.

Mr Marten kept banging into me and I kept sounding off. I have to admit I wouldn’t dream of saying some of the words I used in the normal course of events. He seemed to find my language amusing.

I was all ready to scream my fool head off when he finally stepped up the pace. It only took a couple more thrusts and I climaxed and yes, I did scream. From the way Mr Marten was bouncing on me I’d have to say he was having his own climax.

I lay there exhausted and found out that yes, Mr Marten was heavy when he was lying on me. I gave him a feeble push and he laughed and rolled to one side, still breathing deeply.

After a few minutes recovering he got up onto one knee. His hand slid under my bottom and back and he rose to his feet, lifting me with him. (He was a lot stronger that I’d have ever guessed.) Holding me like that he took a couple of steps and then the rotten swine threw me. I gave a shriek and landed in the water, closely followed by him joining me.

“Take a swim,” he told me. “Wash yourself down and cool off. I’ll turn on the pump when we get out so the pool will get cleaned.”

I grumbled and did as he said, but after a few minutes I scrambled back out. I still had some sunbathing to do.

I was going to set up the deckchair again but Mr Marten grabbed my hand, pulling me back over onto the grass. He laid down on his back, pulling me down onto my knees.

“Time for seconds,” he told me.

I looked rather pointedly at his non-erection and smirked.

“Ah, I’m capable of such a feat,” I said delicately, “but it appears that there may be a missing element.”

“True,” he agreed, “and we both know what that element is. Your mouth,” he added, to my shock.

He must have successfully read the stunned look on my face because he smiled and explained further.

“I’m sure someone with a mouth as sweet as yours can coax the fallen into standing again. Once that is done you’ll be able to climb aboard and entertain yourself.”

Now I had a problem. I’d always avoided doing that sort of thing and wasn’t really sure what to do. Yes, I knew in theory but there was always a difference between theory and practice. I could always say no and he’d probably accept it but he’d be laughing at me, I just knew it.

I just knew I was blushing like crazy as I took hold of his cock and bent over it. güvenilir bahis şirketleri To my surprise I was almost slapped in the face by it before I’d even opened my mouth. Just holding it in my hand seemed to give it a new lease of life. The trouble was I couldn’t be sure it would stay like that without a little extra encouragement.

I was as nervous as a kitten I took him into my mouth. He was big and hot and I wondered what would happen if I bit him. I couldn’t help it. The thought just crossed my mind and I wanted to laugh like crazy. Bit hard to when my mouth was so full.

I applied a gentle suction and it seemed to me that he grew even bigger. My head bobbed up and down a little, stroking the sides. (Only a little or I might have choked to death. We had to give her the Heimlich procedure because she was choking. No thank you.)

My tongue played with him and I could feel him tensing up for some reason. Curious, I grazed the head with my teeth and Mr Marten said a very rude word. I did it again and he said it again. It appeared that the head of his cock was very sensitive. Who knew? (Probably everyone but me but I was now part of the everyone.)

I spent what seemed like an age to me stoking the boiler, getting him in a fit condition to perform. It was probably only a minute or so but it seemed longer. When I pulled my head away to admire my work his cock looked enormous. Had it really been that big earlier? Probably. I had to remember that I was now looking at it from a much closer range.

Then the second part of his instructions kicked in. First coax and then climb aboard. It certainly looked coaxed enough to perform and I suspected that I’d have no problems climbing aboard. (That was something I’d done before, although not with him.)

I swung my leg over him, straddling him. One hand holding him I eased myself down onto him. As soon as I was starting to press down onto him I could feel him tensing to thrust up into me. I wasn’t having that.

“No,” I said quickly. “You said this was my turn. You’ll have to wait until I’m ready.”

He settled down and so did I, but where he just relaxed a little I took my time and slowly sank down onto his cock, taking it deep within me. It was fun. He’d been nice and considerate the first time, taking it slow so that I had a chance to adjust. I repaid him by also taking it nice and slow. Perhaps a little slower than he expected but that was the way things went. OK, I confess, I was a lot slower than he expected, but it was fun watching him grit his teeth as he fought to control his masculine urges to nail me to the ground and bounce on me until I screamed.

By the time I was fully impaled on his lance Mr Marten was giving me a very nasty look.

“If you’re quite sure you’re ready,” he said through gritted teeth, and I nodded, smiling happily. He might have been all over me the first time but this time I was doing just fine.

I started bouncing happily, sliding up and down his shaft with some gusto. I was, quite naturally, being helped out by Mr Marten, him thrusting upward in a most determined manner when I bounced.

I initially thought that he’d be so done up already that he wouldn’t be able to last long. I found out my error soon enough. He was so done up by the first encounter it was going to take him longer to be ready to fire, not shorter.

He was taking full advantage of the situation, too. I was all geed up from the first session and I was ready to climax real fast. That rotten swine was deliberately holding me back, stopping me from climaxing. Really, a man should be above such a petty vengeance.

I was bouncing and squirming and pleading and being driven out of my mind, my body a burning mass of need that he could assuage any time he wanted. He just didn’t want to. I was gasping and swearing and generally letting my feelings be known and he was laughing and helping me bounce too damn slowly.

I swear, by the time he was ready I was ready to commit murder. When he started thrusting home as though he meant it I lasted one bounce and then I exploded, this time with an even louder scream.

Afterwards I was slumped on top of him. No worries about weight in that situation. He just lay under me, stroking my bottom.

“Pool,” he finally said, and we both finished up in the water getting cleaned up again.

When we got out of the pool he told me to continue sunbathing. He had some things he had to do. I settled back down on the deckchair, too spent to do anything. Then I had a thought and I found I wasn’t too tired to scramble into my bikini. It wasn’t that I was expecting anyone to turn up but I hadn’t expected Mr Marten, had I?

Still, while I relaxed and tanned there was one tiny little thing running through my mind. Just what had he meant by saying until next time?