Afternoon Footsie

Claire came out of the bathroom as I completed that thought. She checked her bag one more time then walked to the front door.

"Walk me to my car," she requested politely.

We walked out to her little blue Volvo and she opened the door. She tossed her bag into the passenger seat then turned to face me. I let the front door of the house close behind me.

"Are you locked out?" she asked.

"No, I can go back to the pool and into the house through the yard," I answered

"Thanks for having me over today," she said gratefully. "I didn't want to deal with the crowds at the beach."

"Did you have fun?" I asked.

"Yeah," she replied.

"Great. Do you think you got enough sun?"

"Just about. How do I look?" she asked.

"You look like the most beautiful woman in the world," I replied, stroking her feminine vanity.

"Thank-you." Thank was the first expression of true gratitude that I think I had received all day.

"You're welcome."

"Come here," she said as she held out her arms.

Claire hugged me in the driveway. It felt good. It felt very good.

"Okay, that's enough," she said and kissed me quickly on my neck then pushed me backwards. "Time to go."

She sat in the car, closed the door, started the engine, and rolled down the window.

"I'll call you this week, okay."

"Alright," I answered.

"Bye-bye," she waved and backed out of the driveway.

"Bye," I gave her a little salute in parting as she drove into the street and out of sight.

I went back to the pool through the yard, but I neglected to latch the gate. I dragged the Adirondack lounger a few feet farther into the full sun. There was still one corner of the yard that would get sun for about a half-hour longer. Now I wanted to lie there aimlessly and relax.

I was so damn horny.

I pulled my swimming trunks down to my knees, and grabbed my hardened penis. The poor guy had been straining for hours with very little in the way of attention, and nothing in the way of relief. I would have loved to have pulled him out and given him a proper introduction to the woman who had been responsible for so many encounters between him and my palm, but the moment just never seemed right. That is to say she would probably have given him an introduction to my spleen when she kicked me in the groin for being so vulgar.

I began to pump myself slowly while replaying the events of the day in my mind. All of the foot kissing and toe sucking now seemed quite an erotic inspiration. I desperately wished that I could have seduced Claire properly and made love to her in the pool, on the raft, on the lounger – anywhere. At that moment I was just desperate to be with her. I pumped my manhood thinking about all the attention I had given to her feet. Not being a foot fetishist in the classic sense, I was aroused more by the minor physical contact that she granted me, and less by an attraction to her feet.

I pumped myself faster as I imagined Claire giving in and letting me caress her body. I stroked harder and harder changing the scenes in my mind. I thought about her beautiful body, and a tryst between her and me: our first together. I imagined her wrapping her legs around my body as the buoyancy of the water supported her; Claire embracing me with both arms and legs as we kissed.

Here I would slide into her. I wanted to feel the heat from her body against mine as we embraced in the cool water. I wanted to feel the soft crush of her breasts against my flesh. I imagined her nipples riding up and down my bare chest as we made love rhythmically, alternately kissing and looking into each other's eyes. She has such a lovely face.

I was closing in on a climax. I could feel the pressure building.

"By careful you don't pull it off," I heard a female voice say.

"What?" I cried as I jumped from my repose and twisted around to a seated position and covered myself with my arms.

Claire walked across the deck to the spot where she had originally begun sunning herself. I was mortified at being caught masturbating. I buckled over in my seat and watched her as she picked up something from the table, and then crossed the deck again. I was not able to pull my trunks up without exposing myself to her again. As I sat there I had to contract every muscle in my groin to prevent myself from ejaculating. That would have been humiliating.

"I forgot my Ray-Bans; wouldn't want to lose them. Good thing the gate was unlocked, huh."

She put on her sunglasses as she walked across the pool deck to exit the yard. She took deliberate strides in her wedge sandals, like a fashion model treading down the runway. It was very sexy. She looked directly at me on her way out of the yard. I thought she was trying to muffle a laugh.

"Enjoy yourself, dumb-dumb. Bye-bye."

She wiggled her fingers at me and walked out of the yard smiling.

Well, what's a guy to do? I pulled up my trunks, ran around to the corner of the house, and watched her pull out of the driveway again. This time I made sure the latch to the pool yard was locked before returning to the lounger. I did not want to run the risk of playing Judge Reinhold to Claire's Phoebe Cates a second time.Doesn't anybody knock?

I pulled my trunks down and finished myself off. It did not take long for me to explode in a satisfying climax. It was quite a gooey mess that I got all over my abdominals. The momentary embarrassment of my being caught in mid-stroke by Claire may have added a little extra boost to the blast. It was as if all of the tension that had wound up inside me that day received one final priming that led to the eventual release. I took my time lying on the lounger before getting up to clean myself. The sun passed over me while I idly drew circles and random patterns in the fluid on my body still contemplating Claire and the upper hand she was now going to have over me. After the shade completely overtook me, and the rest of the yard, I got up and just dove into the deep end of the pool naked.

Later that night I masturbated a second time. This time I thought about Claire catching me, and of that look she had on her face, as she must have realized that I was fantasizing about her. Maybe she was amused. Maybe she felt a rush of power. I did not know what she experienced, but I knew that reliving those events excited me. At least I shared my embarrassment with a close friend.

So there you have it. That rope I mentioned earlier is fitting quite snugly around my neck. I often feel like I am dancing a jig at the end of that rope whenever Claire and I get together. I feel the tension, but I still do not know what she is thinking. It is worse when we are alone than when we are with other friends; having people around seems to diffuse any tension I feel in her presence. I do not think she has told anyone about that day; at least no one has ever teased me with the knowledge of that afternoon. To that extent she has kept that intimacy confidential. I crossed the Rubicon that afternoon, and Claire knows it; I am sure of that. Now she is basically in control of where the relationship is going; she is piloting the ship, and I am left as a passenger looking out the porthole hoping for a pleasant view.