By the BeachbyRjThoughts©
I needed to get away, needed a change of scenery. Though it's small, Beverwyck still had its distractions and annoying noises. Moreover, it was too close to the malls and cafes that would take my precious time away from finishing my latest novel, an action/adventure tale starring my most favorite character, Thierry Prud'homme IV.
I called an aunt and asked her about the availability of her summer home for the next month. She didn't hesitate or ask questions. She told me it was mine to use for as long as I needed. She told me it was just cleaned but needed food and other supplies. She added she could rush up and do it for me. I thanked her, but told her I could handle the food and liquids. She laughed and told me she'd drop off a set of keys. I wanted to tell her I would stop by, but she had already ended the call.
I assembled what tools I would need: My laptop and accessories, batteries for my wireless mouse, my iPod and power cords, my cell phone charger, and my folio filled with loose-leaf paper and extra fine point pens. I grabbed a piece of paper from the printer and made a list of what supplies I would need. I was almost finished when the doorbell rang.
I opened the door for my aunt. Instead of coming in for chitchat, she tossed me a set of keys and quickly left the porch. I couldn't ask her where she was off in such a hurry. She was back in her car and down the street quickly.
I returned to my list then to pack clothing.
I left at 4:30 the next morning and the 90-minute drive was peaceful, since no one else other than a few state troopers and some long distance truckers. I pulled into the private gravel and dirt dead end road as the first few rays of dawn bathed the ash, birch, spruce, and pine tree forest that enveloped her property.
Aunt Genevieve had never married. None of us kids knew the reason why, or if my sisters did, they never told me. She was my mom's youngest sibling, born ten years after. She was only 13 years older than I was, so she was more like my cousin than my aunt was.
In 1972, she was in a terrible accident, one that her left her with major pelvic injuries and took the life of her best friend. Because the accident additionally left her unable to bare children, Aunt Gen won several lawsuits; the total was in the millions. The second purchase she made -- after the house in which she still lives -- was to purchase land surrounding a small pristine and unspoiled lake. She had a medium sized house built, with five bedrooms and three baths, that would be a summer home or later, as a retreat for me when I needed to get some writing done with limited distraction.
I parked my car and grabbed my laptop bag. I walked onto the porch, keys in hand. I noticed the note on the door and sighed.
"I brought up fresh linens, stocked the outdoor fridge with your diet drinks, extras in the pantry, and fruit in the kitchen fridge. Love Gen." I could only shake my head and unlock the door. I took the note off the door; it had the Wi-Fi password on it. For some reason, as I stepped into the home, I felt tired. I quickly unpacked the car, put the perishables into the refrigerator, threw my luggage onto the couch, and took off my sneakers. I walked into the master bedroom, put my glasses on a nightstand and fell onto the bed.
A soft rapping on the front door awoke me from a dreamless sleep. I don't know for how long I had been out, but the sun shone brilliantly through the window. I grabbed my glasses and made my way out of the bedroom.
The person on the other side knocked again. "I'm coming," I responded. "Give me a few." I made it to the door and looked out the small window to see who broke my slumber. I saw the forehead of a woman.
"Yes," I said opening the door. I looked into the sweet dark brown eyes of a mousy brown-haired woman who looked a few years older than Aunt Gen was. She was shorter, standing about 5 feet, 2 inches. She was smiling at me, making it almost impossible for me to speak.
"Can I help you?" I mumbled out. I didn't think she understood me, but she answered.
"You must be Gen's nephew," she said. Her voice was sultry, making her sound like a 1930s Noir ingénue. She had a red plaid flannel shirt open, underneath was a black camisole stretched by her bra trying to hold her large breasts. She had on a pair of loose fitting khakis. I couldn't see her feet: the camisole distracted me.
I nodded. "Yes, that's me." She put out her hand. I gently took it.
"I'm Lisbeth Timmons. My family and I have the property next to your aunt." She released my hand and took a step back. I took that as an invitation to join her on the porch. "She called me yesterday to tell me that someone was going to be using the house for a bit, and I should introduce myself."
I shook my head. "That's Aunt Gen for you."
"She also told me who you are." There was mischievousness to her expression. She leaned forward and put her hand on my chest. "You're secret's safe with me."
"I won't bother to ask what you're working on," she said, taking away her hand from my body. We stood in the sun for a long silent moment before asking, "Would it be okay if my daughters and I use the beach sometime? We don't have access this year to the Reservoir."
I remembered that the state was doing some beach reconstruction on certain beaches that lined the reservoir. I guess her beach was one of them. "Sure," I told her.
"Thank you," she told me before reaching up and kissing my cheek. "Bye," she waved.
I watched as she drove away. I turned and went back in. I finally looked at my watch. It was 10. It was time to start writing. I went into the kitchen, grabbed a bowl for the cabinet, milk from the fridge, and a box of cereal from the pantry.
I can't write on an empty stomach.
Chapter One -- Writer's Delight
My aunt had an old office desk, one used by one of her uncles while he was in General Electric management, brought to the home right after he passed away. I used it often when I was younger, writing my short stories on it before I'd hit the water and play with my sisters. It's still there, though I no longer use paper and pens to do tell my stories. I set up my laptop, mouse pad, and wireless mouse on top after removing the new blotter pad she had. I opened the computer and after swiping my finger, pulled up my latest piece.
I opened a cold bottle of Mr. Pibb and looked blankly at the screen. I had an idea of what to write, but I lost it quickly. I knew there wasn't going to be anything written, so I turned off the computer, took my soda, and walked out the house.
I took a seat in one of my aunt's Adirondack chairs and looked around the lake. I saw that the spruces and pines were bigger, the ashes and birches were fuller. I saw that she hadn't sold any more land. There was no new construction but I saw that she had the beach expanded, going about 100 yards in each direction. She also had her beach brought closer to the house. It looked as if she was planning to have more people use the lake.
I finished my drink and was ready to get another one when my cell vibrated. I removed it from my front pocket and checked who was calling. It was my agent. I let it go to voice mail: I wasn't in the mood to listen to her pep talk. I walked back into the house and straight to the kitchen. There was a knock at the door.
I opened the door and saw Lisbeth had returned. Gone were the flannel and camisole, replaced by an oversized yellow t-shirt. I could see that she was wearing flip-flops.
"Hi, Sebastian," she said. "I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time."
"No, you didn't," I began. I stepped back and invited her in. She thanked me and walked inside. "What can I do for you?" I watched as she walked past me, her ass swaying. I smiled and felt a little tightness in my shorts. I shook my head as she went to the desk.
"Is this where the magic happens?" she quipped.
I chuckled. "Normally, I would say yes, but I haven't thought of anything." I was honest: Why would I lie?
She looked at me with genuine concern. "Having a case of writer's block?" She came closer and touched my elbow. Her touch was gentle.
"I don't think I have a block. I think I'm just stuck." I offered her some coffee. She declined, but asked if I had bottled spring water, she could use one. I walked to the fridge and pulled one out.
She opened it and took a big gulp. "Any way, you're wondering why I'm here."
"I was going to ask that." I smiled as she wiggled by again, taking a seat on the couch.
"I was going to ask if I could use your aunt's beach in a while." She placed the bottle on the coffee table and slowly crossed her legs.
"Don't you mean you and your family?"
"No, it's just me." She uncrossed her legs and smiled. "My daughters left to go meet some friends at Great Escape." She didn't seem upset. Matter of fact, she seemed rather joyful.
"You can use it anytime you want." I sat in the easy chair next to the couch. "You don't need to ask, don't need to come to the door. You can just walk onto it."
She smiled and stood. "Thank you," she said, her arms open. I stood and held out mine. Lisbeth fit herself nicely into my arms, her head gently resting on my chest. She squeezed me tightly. I reciprocated.
After a moment of niceties, she broke the embrace. "I have my towel in the car. I'll be right back." She turned and walked away.
I watched as her ass shook away.
I heard her close the door to her car. I went to the back door and watched as she walked quickly to the sand. She was carrying a large pink beach bag, a pink blanket overflowing from it. She found a spot close to the shoreline and put down the bag. She removed the blanket and spread it out, putting the bag on it. She kicked off her flip-flops and removed her t-shirt.
I expected to see the back of her swimsuit, more than likely a one piece. No, I saw a bare back. I had to look again, to make sure. She was wearing a pair of short gray cotton shorts. I could see her ass cheeks hanging. I slipped onto the porch to get a better look. I sat in a chair, trying to do so quietly. I sat back and the porch and chair both groaned, loudly. Lisbeth heard it and turned. She did not attempt to hide her nudity.
"Hi Sebastian," she said, waving. Her breasts swung low as she moved her arm. I saw that her areolae were small and light pink. Her nipples were dark pink, erect and large. My mouth dropped when I saw her quickly shuck off the shorts and put them on the blanket.
She was a mother, had stretch marks and showed other signs of childbirth, but that made her all the sexier. She smiled again before walking to the water.
I watched as she made down the sand, her feet digging in ever so slightly, her ass moving back and forth. When she hit the damp black sand, Lisbeth stopped and with trepidation, stuck a toe in the water.
She ran back to her blanket screaming, "God, that's cold."
"It's a spring fed lake," I called out.
"Why didn't you warn me?" she asked from her blanket. She sat and rummaged through her bag, not appearing again until she found what she was looking for: A magazine. She pulled out reading glasses from a side pocket and began to read. I took that as a cue to return to the house and try to write.
I turned the laptop on and for the first time in several weeks, I had a good idea of what to write.
Chapter 2 -- It Happens
I looked at the time: An hour had passed. I noticed that I had written a thousand words and could do more. My mini block, or whatever I was I had suffered from, was seemingly over. I could thank Lisbeth for that; her magnificence of nudity seemed to spark my imagination. She could be a muse, my muse, but I wasn't too sure of it. I saved my work and walked to get another soda.
"I hope I didn't shock you too much," Lisbeth said sitting on a towel at the desk. She was still naked.
I smiled and said, "You shocked me, but not too much." I asked if she wanted water. She nodded. I reached and grabbed one.
"Sebastian," she began. "Why weren't you too shocked?"
"I've seen naked women here before." I explained that my aunt was a former hippie, or rather, someone that was a free spirit. She was into nudism for a while, and this place was where she exercised her passion.
"And that didn't seem weird to you, seeing your aunt naked?"
"No, I didn't. I found it rather exciting."
She chucked. "You're a man, alright." She looked at what I was writing and read some. "Have you ever written erotica?"
"My publisher has broached the subject." I lied to her. I had been writing erotic romance and erotica under the pen name "Andrea Marsh" for the better half of the last 12 years, ever since my agent, Katherine Fuller, thought it would be a good change of pace and another moneymaker for the two of us.
"I like it," Lisbeth said. "I wish, though, there were better writers, like you, that would write novels."
"Who are your favorite erotica writers?" I asked.
"Jacqueline Evers, Hilary Smyth-Collins, and Andrea Marsh are the three I read most."
"What about them set them about from others?"
She thought for a moment. "Well, for one, they all have characters which are believable. They also have plots that interest me right away. Third, they excite me."
Before I could ask another question, Lisbeth stood. "I think I've taken too much of your time. I'm going back outside. I hope you can join me." She turned and walked out.
I stood motionless for a moment. My heart was racing. I had a fan, albeit an unknowing one, in my presence. She was a fan that might be sexually excited in my words. I didn't know what to do, didn't know to join her on the beach or to stay inside and write more. I didn't know if I went outside, should I be naked like her or wear my bathing suit.
Returning, Lisbeth answered the latter. "I hope you leave the suit in the house." She smiled devilishly and turned. I watched her ass cheeks jiggle out the door. I quickly took off my t-shirt; let my shorts fall to the floor. I left my clothes where they fell. I went to the linen closet, grabbed a beach towel, and found a blanket of my own. Aunt Gen was prepared.
"Oh nice," she said seeing me walk nude down the porch steps. My cock wasn't big, but it wasn't small either. It swung with each step, an action that seemed to have mesmerized her. I saw her eyes glaze over, as if in a trance.
"I'd thought it would be good to join you in nudity," I said. I spread my green blanket next to hers and put my towel down. "I bet the lake would affect me worse than you," I quipped.
The joke had its intended result. "I bet it will," she giggled. She took a moment and looked me up and down. "I hope it doesn't make them shrink too much," she said taking my balls in her hand.
My cock responded by growing. I went to apologize for it, but she just smiled and rubbed my balls softly.
"I love when a man loves my touch." She leaned in and kissed my cock head. "It looks so pretty," were the words she spoke before taking my hardness into her mouth.
I inhaled deeply at the surprise. Her mouth was warm and wet, her lips so soft. She expertly sucked and swallowed simultaneously. She released my cock before taking it into her mouth again. She moved back to allow my cock to be released from her mouth.
"Fuck my mouth," Lisbeth said in her seductive voice, "Fuck it like you'd fuck a whore's cunt."
I grabbed her hair and prepared to thrust. I felt her relax her throat to accept my hardness. As I plunged into her, she moaned, the vibration made my knees want to buckle. I caught myself and continued to fuck her mouth.
She reached up and put her hand on my cock, gently touching it as it worked its way in an out of her. The added sensation was all that I needed. "I'm going to cum," I told her. She responded by moving her head up and down my cock.
Two, three, four thrusts and I spilled my seed down her throat. Lisbeth gagged initially, but recovered to swallow most of it. Spent, I fell to my knees. I watched Lisbeth clean up the spilled cum with her fingers and put it in her mouth.
"You taste utterly fantastic," she said. I lay back onto my blanket and watched her reach into her bag. She pulled some hard candy out and offered me a piece. I declined. She popped one into her mouth and sucked for a few moments before smiling at me.
"I bet you're wondering why I gave you, a perfect stranger, a blowjob." I nodded. "Well, I always said that if I ever met my favorite author I'd lick her for as long as she wanted. Then Genevieve told me you write and let slip that you use the nom de plume Andrea Marsh, so I had to amend my actions."
She leaned over and kissed my cheek. "Thank you for writing such intense novels. They've helped me relax when I've had so much bullshit in my life."
With that, she rolled up her towel into a pillow, laid her head on it, and closed her eyes. I just stared blankly at her, my mouth ajar.
I spent a few hours on the beach, eventually getting into the cold lake. Once I was used to it, the water was fine. I convinced Lisbeth to come in with me, and she did join me. We had fun splashing and swimming, acting like teenagers.
She left a few hours later, telling me that she would come back the next day, which she did, earlier. It was then that she told me why she was naked on the beach. Free spirited parents raised Lisbeth. They raised her to not be ashamed of her body and whenever possible to discard the use of clothing.
I asked her if she raised her daughters the same way. She smiled and nodded her head. Lisbeth told me they would be coming to use the lake at noon, and if I chose, I could use them the same way as I used her. A smile came to my face.