Courting at Orchard Court

Brad Nyler balanced his groceries and fumbled with the deadlock. As he stepped inside he trod on the envelope, picked it up, closed the door with his foot and proceeded to the kitchen.

Notes usually meant trouble and expense. Someone's sink was dripping, their lights flickering, or their air conditioning broken down. He tossed the dreaded message on the counter and ignored it while he put the groceries away, then cracked himself a beer and took the envelope along to the balcony. Sitting in his favourite deck chair, he took a couple of stiff swigs from the can before opening the envelope.

***

Dear Brad,

I have a fantasy about a tradesman catching me naked. He leaves his work and approaches me. He's gentle, but he wants me and means to get what he wants. I let him seduce me.

That's my fantasy, but if it really happened I don't know how I would react. I think I'm too afraid of rejection.

I watch you working around this place, and sometimes I daydream that it's you who catches me naked. But I've never let you do it. Then I counted the women in this motel. There are twenty-three of us, so I can write you this letter and you never have to know who I am. Since you don't know who I am, you can't really reject me. All you can do is accept or reject an idea.

So here's the deal. If you would like to help me live out my fantasy just tie a piece of cloth to your balcony railing tonight . Then just wait because I'll make the next move.

If you help me live out my fantasy, I'll do the same for you, with any fantasy you have. Love,

Daydreamer

***

He read the note four times. Its content was clear the first time, but it took three more tries before his ego was satisfied. Women had hit on him before, but never this blatantly. He was about as flattered as he could get.

Brad Nyler owned Orchard Court, a thirty unit log motel in Bantam, California. Ten years earlier he'd been told about a recreational theme park planned for the area. He put a down payment on the place and got a mortgage. The theme park opened three years later, but was so big it had it's own hotels, campsites and shops. Local motels like Orchard Court gained little from its presence except increased property taxes.

After that shock Brad decided he needed more revenue to service his mortgage, so he converted the motel into long term rentals. He rented mainly to single women because they were more reliable at paying their rent. He'd had a few flings with tenants since then, but never experienced anything like this anonymous letter.

At sunset that night Nyler walked onto his balcony again, with an old motel towel, and tied it to the iron railing where it was visible from every unit in Orchard Court.

***

The next few days Brad went quietly about his business but heard nothing from the anonymous fantasy lover. By the fourth day he was wondering if she had gotten cold feet, but discovered otherwise at sundown.

It was a Thursday evening, and as part of his regular Thursday routine, he carried his household rubbish to the dumpster. After tossing the sacks he turned to look straight into unit nineteen, where a very naked Jennifer Wetzel was drying her hair.

Nyler was mesmerized by her beauty. Miss Wetzel was a young teacher, who had moved in two months ago, after landing her first teaching contract at Bantam Primary School. She was a stunner no matter what she wore, but in her birthday suit she was a living work of fine art. Every contour was chiseled precisely, from her seductive face to her delicate ankles. Her breasts were soft and large, swaying enticingly with every move she made. Although her tummy was concave, the bush of blonde hair at her crotch grew on an accentuated mound that stood like a drawbridge to her vagina. This was all supported on the kind of slim but athletic legs that belong in ads for opera hose.

She stopped drying her hair for a moment, feeling it with her fingers to assess its dampness, and that's when their eyes met. She pulled the towel quickly to her front, using it like a barely adequate curtain to cover her breasts and abdomen. It was a smooth action, providing an appearance of modesty while leaving plenty of skin on display. Brad wondered how often she had rehearsed it, and that thought made him smile. For a moment she gazed at him apprehensively, then a naughty smile took over. Her eyes widened and she extended her fingers to open her clenched fists, allowing the towel to fall to the floor.

Brad exhaled a breath he had been holding since he first laid eyes upon her. Jennifer Wetzel had left him breathless. She walked to the sliding glass door of her patio area, flipped its latch and slid it ajar. Then with an even broader smile verging on laughter, she turned and walked to her kitchenette.

As Brad Nyler opened the door and stepped inside, she was taking two glasses from a cupboard and placing them on the counter.

"I always keep a bottle of Heinkel Trokken for..." she paused, "special occasions. Do you like it?"

"Champagne isn't?"

"It would be if it was French instead of German," she replied.

"Sounds fine to me."

"I have some Grand Marnier if you'd prefer?"

"Champagne will be fine."

Jennifer opened the fridge and bent over to get the wine from a lower shelf. Like everything else about her body, her aft was made as much for art as love. Her feminine shoulder blades crowned an elegantly arched back, ending with cute pelvic dimples, which in turn crowned buttocks that rivaled her breasts in their full, round loveliness. She turned back to the counter, placed the bottle next to the glasses and began tearing away the cover, to gain access to its wire clamp.

"I love drinking Champagne in the nude, but it's more fun if the man I'm sharing it with is naked too."

Brad needed no coaxing. It was her fantasy and he wanted her to guide him through it. She watched with amusement as he quickly undressed, leaving his clothes on the floor next to her abandoned towel. The plastic stopper popped and bounced off the ceiling. She poured the bubbly into the flutes as he removed his last items of clothing, .

Miss Wetzel walked over to him, handed him a glass, then stared for a long moment at his organ. It was pointing at some high mark on the wall, close to the ceiling. She moved her hand slowly toward it, a serious expression of longing covering her features. Wrapping his manhood in her palm, she turned her attention back to his eyes. The irresistible bad girl's smile returned. She slid her hand along the length of his hard organ. At its tip she almost let go, but not quite. Instead she clasped his glans between her fingers and squeezed them just hard enough to make him draw back. Then she laughed, turned and walked into the bedroom.

***

Pleasing women had never been a problem for Brad Nyler. In fact, his partners often had five or six orgasms before he would ejaculate. Brad was one of the twenty-percent of men in the USA who are uncircumcised. This meant fewer orgasms for Brad but made him popular with the ladies, so he didn't mind at all.

Jennifer Wetzel had never had an uncircumcised lover before so she was eager to try it out - every which way. Before they fell asleep at about three AM, Brad's pecker had been in Jennifer's mouth five times; in her pussy three times plus once in her anus; she'd given him two orgasms with her hands; tried it with her feet to no avail; also tried and failed between her tits, but was delighted to see him shoot his load across her torso from her left armpit.

Brad couldn't remember ever meeting a woman more adventurous in bed. When she wasn't playing with his dick, she was dreaming up new ways for him to enjoy her own body. Sexual taboos were not permitted in Miss Wetzel's bedroom. At one point, she even had him blindfold her and tie her feet and hands to the bead head, then had him perform oral sex across the full length of her crotch. If there had been an Olympiad for sex, Jennifer Wetzel would have been its star athlete.

When he awoke in the morning she was already wide eyed and waiting. After good morning kisses, her tongue weaved its way down his neck, across his chest and stomach, and all around the circumference of his morning erection. Once she had him stiff and wet enough to meet her standards, she straddled him and rubbed the tip of his member against her clitoris until they both came with loud delirious moans. After that they showered together, ate a quick breakfast and headed off to start their workdays. Although he was determined never to admit it to anyone, especially to the lovely Jennifer Wetzel, Brad had to stumble exhausted back to his suite and sleep for an extra four hours to recover from her outstanding feminine favours.

***

Nyler didn't get much work done around the property that Friday. He spent most of the day nursing his body back to its full sexual vigor. Realising he had a sensual tigress on his hands, Brad decided to pay a visit to the local sex emporium. He bought two bottles of flavoured massage oil, one peppermint the other orange. Then he dropped into a supermarket and got a few bottles of Heinkel Trokken.

Jennifer returned at five-thirty that afternoon. Brad waited about fifteen minutes for her to get settled in before phoning her.

"I've been thinking about you all day," he told her. "I'm no Don Juan, but you are easily the most satisfying lover I've ever known. I must see you again, and I've got a fantasy of my own to share with you."

"You mean we left something out last night? That's hard to believe, unless it's so unhealthy it doesn't bear thinking about."

"My imagination is healthy enough," he stated.

Jennifer was silent for some time before she finally invited him over.

"I'm not sure if this is very smart of me, but I guess you'd better come over. Make it about seven thirty."

She sounded a little domineering, but he drove that idea from his mind.

There's nothing single minded about her, Brad thought, other than her concentrated sexual energy. Jennifer Wetzel is a free spirit. She wouldn't have any obsessions or hang-ups. She's not the type.

In any case, Brad Nyler was so hungry for her, he would willingly have endured hot wax, bondage and flagellation in return for a repeat of their previous evening together.

***

At seven-thirty Brad was at the door of number nineteen Orchard Court, carrying a bag containing the flavoured body oils and a well chilled bottle of German champagne.

Jennifer looked different. Her hair was held up with barrettes. She was heavily made-up with dark eye shadow, brilliant red lipstick and brightly rouged cheeks. Her top was a cropped corset shirt trimmed with lace, which tied down the front with a silk lanyard. Its low neckline and parted front revealed that she was braless. Below her bare midriff she wore a tight half length red leather skirt with a silver belt, and a pair of suede elfin type boots that just covered her ankles. It was not what Brad had expected, and his surprise must have shown on his face.

"My new outfit, I bought it today. The fifties beatnik look. Do you like it?"

Although her attire looked aggressively seductive, the naughty smile had been replaced by a sweeter version that softened her intentionally hard appearance. It made him feel more at ease as he entered her suite.

"You look great. Funny, though, I figured you for the kind of girl who makes her own clothes."

"Not a chance. Do-it-yourself is not my style. I like full service, or didn't you notice?"

"Oh, I noticed," he grinned.

"What's in the bag?"

Brad placed the bottle of Heinkel Trokken on her coffee table, then took out the flavoured body oils.

"This is yours," he said handing her the bottles. "I've got two similar ones. Guess what we're going to do with them."

"Is this the fantasy you mentioned?"

"Part of it."

Jennifer eyed him suspiciously. She looked him up and down as though she was a banker and he had just asked her for a major loan. He thought he had better reveal his whole plan, in case she really thought he had something terribly sick in mind.

"First we get full body massages with the oil. You get a massage with peppermint oil because I like peppermint. Since you drink Grand Marnier I got orange too. We can play any games you want then, provided we lick it all off before we fall asleep."

She thought about it for a moment; studied the bottles in her hands; eyed him hawkishly again, then a look came over her as though she had an idea.

"Any games I want. Did you say any games I want?"

"You name it. After last night, I'll follow you anywhere."

Her gorgeous trademark smirk came back. She carried it into every sensual adventure like a calling card. That smile was the nuclear warhead in Miss Wetzel's arsenal of seduction. It was more than naughty. It was so full of black magical lust it verged on criminal. In another time, any woman who smiled that way would have been called a witch.

"Get your clothes off," she said, " the glasses are in the top left cupboard."

While he undressed, Jennifer closed drapes, dimmed lights and turned some music on. From the bedroom closet she fetched a bed sheet and a box of sex toys. Then she moved the coffee table aside creating a large open floor area. Finally, she released the belt and waist buttons of her skirt and stepped out of it. Underneath she had knickers that matched her corset top: a dark paisley pattern with a silky white drawstring, and a large round oval missing at the crotch, revealing yet another surprise for Brad. Her blonde pubic hair was gone. Her pussy was as bald as a baby's bum.

She took another glass of wine from him and then pointed at his own. "Drain that," she said, "you won't be having another for a while."

With a slight twinge of uncertainty he decided to keep doing everything she asked. Hours before this woman had treated him to a most incredible night of love. He knew the extent of her powers, and was ready to let her lead him into whatever sensual realm she felt was appropriate. As Brad struggled to quickly drain the glass of gaseous wine, Jennifer spread the sheet over the floor like a large throw rug. When he had finished the drink she told him to lay on his back, then she gave the massage oil a shake, and went to work on him.

Jennifer straddled him backwards, with her buttocks pointed toward his face. She bent forward, poured some oil along his shins, and began rubbing in a smooth rowing motion. As she worked her way up his body she shifted backwards until her posterior was suspended over his stomach. He reached for her, wanting to pull off the panties, and touch her fascinating bottom, but she reached back and slapped his hands away.

"It's coming, be patient," she directed.

By the time her hands reached his groin, she had shifted so far back that on every backstroke of her rowing motion, her bare labia grazed his face smearing its wetness from his chin to forehead. He tried to catch her clitoris with this tongue each time it passed by, but was never sure he'd succeeded. Then her vagina was gone. She had left his groin, shifted further back to work the oil into his stomach and rib cage. Now her breasts brushed his face with each stroke, but they were still inside her paisley corset. He could only close his eyes and breathe deeply to inhale her glorious fragrance.

Jennifer stopped at his neck, and told him to roll over on his stomach. Brad obeyed and the massage began again, starting at the shoulders this time. Her fingernails dug into his back so roughly he worried she might draw blood, but he had no will to stop her. This mistress of seduction made even pain a pleasure. On his buttocks she literally slapped the oil into his skin. Then after a quick application to the back of his thighs, she asked him to stand up, which he did.

Miss Wetzel examined his glistening body like an artist contemplating a work in process. He noticed she had grabbed a latex rubber hood from the toy box. It was a foreboding looking thing. Then she looked into his eyes, and reached out to gently cup his head in her hand. The sweet smile returned, making her appear almost like an innocent maiden. Her eyes were soft and warm despite the heavy makeup.

"Do you trust me?" she asked. "I need total trust if we're both going to be satisfied."

He hesitated to answer, increasingly aware of a change in her since the night before, and more than a little worried about the latex mask. He wanted to ask questions, to clarify a few things, but then her little girl smile turned into a pout. She looked disappointed.

"You don't trust me. You think I want to hurt you."

"No I don't, but I've never done anything like this before."

As soon as the words left his lips he regretted saying them. He blushed like a schoolboy unexpectedly kissed in a crowded school yard. Her smile drifted back. She took his hands and held them against her breasts.

"I'm a teacher. It comes naturally to me, but I need your trust."

Brad felt too much of a sexual greenhorn to put up an argument. This woman had a way of boxing him in, so that logical considerations like fear all had to be turned over to her. She made it the most comfortable option. He sensed that resistance would mean losing her, a prospect worse by far than leaving himself in her sensuous hands.

"This is going to be fun, I promise," she said, just before she pulled the latex hood over his head.

The hood had two small air holes in the vicinity of his nostrils, plus a hole with a zipper for his mouth, and two more for his eyes. She left the eye holes open but closed the one for his mouth.

"I take it you have no use for my tongue right now," Brad remarked, finding it a little difficult to speak through the tight latex.

"Don't concern yourself with any of it. Leave it all to Miss Jenny," she said.

She allowed him to watch as she took implements from the box and applied them. His hands were cuffed behind his back, and his ankles shackled a few inches apart. A small leather belt the size of a cat's collar was tightened around his scrotum and the base of his penis causing the tackle to protrude in front of him like an absurd gargoyle. Then she closed his eye holes and told him to kneel down. There was a short pause. He heard a click behind him, then the zip at his mouth opened.

"Open wide."

He opened his mouth, expecting her to kiss him, but instead she quickly stuffed a rubber ball inside and closed the zipper again. The girl who yesterday left him breathless now had him speechless too, but Brad was not so thrilled this time.

She made him stand again, then he head a rope slide across a log beam overhead, and suddenly his arms shot up behind his back to a painful height. He wanted to shout, "What the hell! Stop that!" but could utter more than muffled grunts. He bent forward to reduce the pain in his shoulders. She wrapped something elastic, probably a Bungy Cord he thought, twice around his thighs just above the knees just tightly enough to hinder circulation. Stiff clips were attached to his nipples, and something that felt like a light bulb was plunged into his anus. It seemed there was scarcely a nerve in his body that wasn't pleading for relief. Yet all this only preceded the most terrifying development of all.

Nyler heard the sound of rope on the log beam again, then felt the rope around his neck. He tried to hobble away, but she was too quick. The attempt only encouraged her to pull the rope faster and taughter. The only way to evade choking was to stand upright, but when he did so, the pain increased in his shoulders as a result of his arms being suspended behind him. He screamed with agony as he forced himself to stand upright, choosing the shoulder pain over possible asphyxiation.

As he adjusted to the pain and his screams dissipated into laboured breathing and grunts, he felt her hand caress his chest. Then she was next to his ear, speaking softly and gently, but plainly and with a firmness he was learning not to ignore.