tagNovels and NovellasA Summer in the Flesh Ch. 04

A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 04

byC.C. Rider©

This is a chapter in a fifteen-chapter novella, and each chapter is dependent on the one that precedes it. It is best to read them in order.

*****

I decided on a quick shower before my dinner with Tom and Charlie, and I remember purposefully scrubbing myself especially clean – my nice spot and my naughty spot – not knowing what the night would hold. Had I stopped to think about it at the time, I would have found that new attention to detail a little strange, but I didn't stop to think about it – good for me. After the shower I spent some time agonizing over what to wear. It had to be light. I debated for a while over a pastel blue sundress. Too cutesy, I thought. I toyed with the idea of wearing a clingy, stretch-knit spaghetti strap dress I bought on a lark. Too skimpy and tight, I thought. When I bought it, I visualized it with some kind of top or wrap. It was too hot for any cover, and I didn't feel like I had the guts to wear it all by itself. I put it on anyway, just to see what it looked like.

It was canary yellow, and the color set off my green eyes and now amber, sun-streaked hair. My breasts looked surprisingly robust and shapely under the dress' bodice. My skin was radiant from the midday sun (and midday fun, I suppose). The freckles on my nose and shoulders stood out. I put on just a touch of makeup and brushed out my hair.

I stood in front of the mirror again, and now I was transfixed. I didn't recognize myself. The girl in the mirror was absolutely gorgeous. She was healthy and natural, and sexy and confident. She looked so relaxed and calm. Her hair sparkled. Her eyes held a secret. Her smile grew into a laugh. I'm going to wear it, I thought. I started to get some panties, and then I thought what the hell – no panties, no panty lines, it's just one night. I put on white sandals and went downstairs.

I found Tom and Charlie in the living room. I remember the song on the radio vividly, if only because I thought it was too funny and too ironic. "Roxanne, you don't have to wear that dress tonight, those days are over, you don't have to sell your body to the night." The Police. Fuck you, Sting, I thought! I laughed.

I can't say for sure, but I believe I took Charlie's and Tom's breath away.

"Annie, you look..." Tom seemed at a loss for words.

"You look great, Annie." Charlie stood up from the couch, and then looked confused, like he wasn't used to standing up when a woman entered a room and didn't know what to do next.

"Hey, wow, um... so, do you want a beer?" Tom actually looked nervous.

I was enjoying this. I nodded yes.

"You really do, um... goddam, you look great, Annie." He was still staring at me, and then he shivered, remembering the beer. "Oh, just a second."

I tugged down on my dress and sat down on the window seat, crossing my legs. Charlie sat back down, but didn't take his eyes off of me. Okay, I thought, maybe this was too much. By the time Tom handed me my beer, however, they both seemed relatively back to normal. He turned down the stereo and sat down in the wingback chair.

"So where do you want to go, Annie?" Charlie asked. "Any place at all." This was sweet, I thought.

I picked The Willow Tree and the men agreed and went to change. I looked at myself in the dressing mirror. I tested my skirt to make sure it wouldn't pull up on me when I walked. I stood with my back to the mirror, checking the length of my dress, and then I did something silly. I mooned myself, and admired my sexy ass. No panties – I liked the idea more and more. I pulled my dress down and laughed – what had become of me?

After Tom and Charlie had changed, we chatted for a while in the living room. Tom wore his khaki shorts and a weathered blue polo shirt. Charlie wore navy shorts and Hawaiian shirt with a green and cream-colored floral pattern. They looked nice. At one point we stood up and clinked our beer bottles in tribute to my final undergraduate class. I told them about some details of my graduate school in California. They seemed genuinely impressed. A breeze had picked up, cooling the air from miserable to sultry. We decided to walk to dinner and I was constantly tugging at my dress, reminding myself of my scandalous, pantiless condition.

The Willow Tree was a nice place, real tablecloths, soft lights, but inexpensive. I had rarely been there for fear of being perpetually underdressed, but I knew the place was more casual than I gave it credit for. Dinner was a treat. Charlie held my chair when we sat down. Tom gave my knee an occasional squeeze under the table. I could tell our waitress was jealous. I basked in their attention.

The night air felt wonderful on the walk home. Tom offered to treat for a few drinks at a club, but I thought it would be too smoky and hot. I said I would prefer just to go home, smoke a joint, and take it easy for the rest of the night. I wondered aloud whether we had any wine, and Tom insisted on stopping at the party store on the way home for a cold bottle of Chablis.

We got home around 11:00. The house was still hot, but we all set about opening every window we could find. It cooled off nicely. Tom poured me a large glass of wine with an ice cube in it, and we settled in to the living room to listen to some of Charlie's tapes. Charlie lit a few candles on the bar and the bookshelf, and turned off the lights.

Charlie liked three types of music. New wave (it was really new back then – ouch!), reggae, and old swing/jazz stuff like Louis Jordan and Louis Prima. Consequently, his tapes were always eclectic, but always enjoyable. A tape of his could go from the Talking Heads to Benny Goodman to Desmond Decker without any sense of incongruity. I admired his taste in music.

We smoked a couple joints, and my mood couldn't have been better. I poured another glass of wine and threw in a few more ice cubes. The wineglass was cold and wet in my hand, and I would sometimes touch it to the skin of my cheek or my thigh to enjoy the sensation. The wine tasted sharp and fruity against the back of my throat. I remember standing in front of the window looking into the backyard, sipping from the glass. The moon was bright, and the maple trees were bathed in a peaceful blue light. The night air brushed past me in the breezeway created by the open bay windows. I could see Tom's and Charlie's reflection in the glass. Tom spoke.

"You really were the most beautiful girl by far in the restaurant tonight." He could tell I was looking at his reflection, and he raised his beer to me.

"Awesome," Charlie agreed.

"You guys are just saying that," I said. To get laid, I thought.

I put a hand down against my hip to self-consciously smooth out my dress and realized again that I wasn't wearing any panties. Suddenly, the thought made me nervous. I closed my eyes and took a breath, and then the thought excited me. My skin had that familiar, sensitive glow I had come to associate with the marijuana. The bass from the music seemed to send tingles up from the floor and out from the walls, penetrating throughout my body.

"Thank you. Thanks for dinner. I've really enjoyed the evening," I said. I had the strange inclination to add, "so far," but I didn't. Was I in over my head? I didn't care. I wasn't sure what I wanted to happen or what was going to happen, but I wasn't going off to bed alone. Not this night, not with this fine buzz on, not with the sexual calmness I felt welling up inside me.

I was still rubbing my hand against my hip, long after my dress was smooth. I closed my eyes again and took another deep breath. I listened to the music. "I can't get me no... satisfaction..." Devo sang out in their droll, nasal monotone. The beat was fast and hard. I was rocking back and forth, tapping my hand on my hip to the beat. Again I looked at their reflection in the glass. It was as if they were sitting amongst the blue trees, like candle-lit ghosts. They were staring at me.

The music slowed dramatically, jazz with a melody, Ella Fitzgerald and Duke Ellington. They could see the front and the back of me. I could see the front of me in the reflection in the glass. Over my shoulder I could also see the back of me in the antique mirror that rested between them. It was like I had purposefully picked this spot without really knowing why. The reflection from the mirror looked like a doorway to a different place where another women existed – the voluptuous goddess whose gloriously white ass I had admired earlier in the evening.

Tom came up behind me and put a hand on my tummy. He stroked me and our eyes met in the reflection.

"I dare you to do whatever you want to do," he whispered in my ear. "You are safe with us."

His hand pulled away and I missed its warmth. He got two beers, gave one to Charlie, and sat back down. You bastard, I thought, this was going to be my idea.

I set down my wine. The woman in the mirror rubbed her hips with both hands. I wanted to see her ample, enticing ass again. I wanted to know if she was wearing anything under her tight, yellow dress. I swayed my hips to the music – heavy bass. The woman in the mirror swayed. I rubbed my hips more vigorously and my dress started to creep up. In the mirror, I could see the crease between her thighs and her cheeks. I bent over slightly, and I could see the faintest wisps of pubic hair between her legs. My pussy started to ache. That was the feeling I wanted. I pulled the dress up a little farther. There it was, just a peek. Slowly I pressed down on my hips, pushing my dress down, closing the curtain. I heard a moan from one of the men in the blue trees.

"Shhh," I hushed them.

I turned and looked into the mirror. Now I wanted to see her breasts. The men seated in front of me, between us, to either side of us, were inconsequential distractions. I ignored them.

I shook out my hair and pulled first one arm, and then the other arm from the straps of my dress. The dress clung to me. I watched now as the woman in the mirror held her hands to her chest, tugging the elastic top of her brilliant yellow dress, slowly rolling the fabric down. I wanted to see her breasts, I wanted to free my own. The fabric reached my nipples, and I pulled the fabric out and down, exposing myself to the mirror. They were beautiful, so soft and creamy. The nipples were tight, the areolas dimpled and swollen. The dress was rolled down to my waist, her waist. The hands smoothed the tummy, caressed the breasts, stroked the nipples. I looked into her eyes, so deep and green. I wanted to see more.

Slowly the dress descended over her ribs, then her tummy, the first glimpse of her hip. The descending dress paused at her satiny mound, caught at the widest point of her hips, accentuating them. Down farther still the dress went, to the middle of her thighs, and then the dress fell of its own accord to the floor. The goddess in the mirror stood there, perfectly still and straight, her long legs held together tightly, her hands resting on her hips, and I studied her.

In the candlelight, her hair was the color of a waning, distant fire. Her eyes were dark and large. Her shoulders were broad, as a goddess' should be. Her breasts cried out to be petted and suckled, the nipples taught, and yet the rest of her seemed perfectly relaxed, as if her breasts had different instincts than her mind. Her tummy protruded slightly from under her belly button, and this is what she reached for first. She petted her belly, and the flesh was smooth and doughy. Her waist narrowed, then her hips rolled out wide and round. Her hands explored the area where her hipbones pressed against her flesh. The little fingers reached down for the crease between her thighs and her mound. Her pubic hair glowed like embers, forming an arrowhead that seemed to direct the onlooker to the spot were the warmth and wetness pulsed within her. Her hand stroked her ember like hair.

"Whoa, baby, I think I am going to faint." A man's voice.

"Shhh!" She closed her eyes. I closed mine.

I wanted to see her ass. I wanted to see the small of her back, the little dimples above her round, fleshy cheeks. I turned and I opened my eyes, and again I could see her there in the mirror from the reflection in the window. Her fiery hair hung to the middle of her back. I pulled my hair in front of me, and now I could see the strong length of her back. Her muscles were visible as she moved her arms. Her back was hard and lean, in contrast to the pillowy softness of her fleshy bottom. She took her hands and pressed them against her lower back, her elbows angling outward. Slowly, she pushed her hands down over the small of her back, over her curvaceous, copious buttocks, kneading the flesh with her fingers as she went, massaging herself.

I felt like I was the one who was going to faint. The music stopped in mid song – the end of the tape. I looked in the reflection in the glass, and instead of the goddess in the mirror, I saw myself standing in the middle of the living room of the Blues House, buck-naked, my tits swinging loosely in front of me, my hands grabbing my ass, and two young men sitting on the edges of their seats, leering at me. Suddenly, I felt fat, pot-marked, and blotchy. I tried to fight the pull of reality. I wanted to become the goddess in the mirror. I straightened up, put my hands on my hips, closed my eyes and took a breath. If it had been just Tom, I would have let it go. I wanted to let it go. Now what, I thought.

There was the sound of polite clapping, followed by more vigorous clapping. I couldn't help but smile, and then laugh, embarrassed. My brow was damp with perspiration. I heard Tom's voice.

"Wow! Where were you? That was..."

"Awesome." Charlie chimed in.

"You can't stop now."

Tom stood up and walked up behind me. He put his hands on my shoulders. Charlie hopped up and changed the tape. Tom put one arm around my waist and slowly moved me around until I was facing the mirror again. The warmth from his hands, his closeness to me, made me feel better, more relaxed. He whispered in my ear.

"Put your hands up behind your head."

It was a little game we had played. I would stand with my hands behind or clasped on top of my head, and he would run his hands over my body, sometimes kissing or suckling me in various places. What I had always enjoyed before was the fact that my eyes were closed, and I would never know what to expect next. But know my eyes were open. I clasped my hands behind my head, pulling my hair out of the way as I did. "Look at the mirror," he said as his hands started at my belly, then traced up and down my sides.

The music came on and Charlie sat back down on the couch, just a few feet away from me. It was his "Classic Disco" tape, which I had once told him how much I enjoyed. I smiled at him and he nodded. Earth Wind and Fire, Wild Cherry, Kool and the Gang, Rick James, The Ohio Players: every song reminded me of high school, but in a good way, and now the songs seemed different. It was like the music was a part of me, and yet like I was hearing it for the first time.

"Brazilian Rhapsody" by EW&F started off. "Ba da ba da bum bum bum, ba da bum bum bum...." The rhythm was perfect, the melody trance like. I let my eyes close slightly, too a soft, moist focus. Tom's hands ran over my body with a random, gentle motion.

"Look at how beautiful you are." His lips pressed against my ear and his breath was warm.

I shivered, and my flesh seemed to ignite. Goosebumps rose everywhere on me, and Tom's hands seemed to bring more and more tingling bumps to the surface as he rubbed the tops of my thighs, my buttocks, and my hips. The blood was charging around inside of me like it didn't know where to go next. As he stroked my pubic hair, I began to sway, and I could feel his erection through his shorts as my ass moved back and forth against him. I opened my eyes, and the woman in the mirror swayed with me as the strong hands caressed her. Her flesh shimmered in the candlelight. I wanted to touch her. I knew I could touch her.

My nipples tightened. My pussy seemed to radiate heat throughout my body. I let go of my hair and reached for myself, for the flesh of the woman in the mirror, the goddess, so soft and full and warm. I stroked her breasts, and the supple tenderness of them astounded me. Tom stroked my shoulders. The strong hands stroked the goddesses' shoulders. I wanted to feel her tummy, her hips, her satiny mound. My hands meandered, and hands meandered on me.

All over, I touched her. I had to please her. I had to feel her wetness, her heat. I pressed my hands against her pubic hair and pushed my fingers between her legs. Hot, a pinkness exposed every so slightly to my eyes. I rubbed her, and I shuddered. I grasped her, as if to prevent myself from falling, and the sensation filled me. I closed my eyes, and I became the goddess. Or she became me.

I am beautiful, I thought. Sexy and powerful and hungry – I am a goddess. I pressed harder against myself, manipulating the folds of my labia, rolling my clit around teasingly. Tom's hands gripped my ass and squeezed, his chest pressed against my back to stabilize me. I shut my eyes so tightly I saw redness like fire against my eyelids. Then his chest, my support, was gone, and I swayed. I knew what was coming, like the time before, and almost buckled in anticipation.

With both hands, I pulled and then pressed against my pussy, unsheathing and then pinching my clitoris and it responded by filling me with a deep longing, a desire that sung from the center of my body. Tom's mouth pressed against my bottom, first one cheek, and then the other. His hands pulled at my thighs. And then I was surprised. I felt a mouth cup my nipple and large hands come to rest on my shoulders. Charlie had joined the frenzy of worship.

Yes, this was what I had wanted. More hands to caress me, more mouths to feed from me. From nipple to nipple he went, his lips lightly brushing each one, his warm hands politely pressing my shoulders together so that my breasts would extend further out, into his waiting mouth. I could have never imagined this, and yet it was as if I had orchestrated everything, as if I was in complete control. Tom's tongue flicked between my bum cheeks, the familiar pertness of its tip seeking to enflame me. I was massaging my swollen twat firmly, desperately wanting to rub at my clit, but patient, suspecting, even knowing what was next.

Charlie kissed under my breasts, down my tummy, flicking his tongue into my bellybutton just as Tom pressed his tongue against my anus. Come on Charlie, I thought.

"Come on Charlie," I groaned.

I pulled at myself, spreading the lips of my pussy wide, exposing my hot, live wire. I pressed my knees out, trying to balance myself perfectly between these two hungry, gorgeous mouths. Charlie steadied me by gripping my hips as he knelled in front of me. Tom pulled at my cheeks to expose more of me from behind. I felt like one of those Hindi princesses depicted in dance with my knees pointing out to my sides. Tom pressed the whole of his mouth over my tingling, receptive anus just as Charlie puckered his lips against my clit and drew it into his mouth.

I couldn't help myself. I opened my eyes and looked into the mirror to see if the woman I had left there was enjoying herself as much as I was. I couldn't believe my eyes. Was that really me, with two men kneeling at me as if in prayer? And was I naked and awkwardly posed, yet still commanding and confidant in my presence? I smiled at myself, and then I laughed out loud, and I had to let go of my pussy to steady myself.

I placed one hand behind me on Tom's curly head, and the other on Charlie's head, and I squealed with delight just to let them know that I appreciated their efforts. They went at me more vigorously, their chins almost touching between my legs. Even with the music flooding the room, I could hear the slurping and sucking clearly, and it made me feel wetter and the sound seemed to grow louder. I gripped both of them by the hair as I came. I shuddered and felt like collapsing, and instantly I came again.

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