The beautiful blonde in the red Nissan 350Z flashed Matt a big smile, a cheery "Good morning," and a fantastic view of succulent cleavage as she leaned toward him. Every morning, it was difficult to tear his eyes off of her friendly face and bust and take the dollar bills from her hand.
Difficult, yes, but the blonde was a bright spot in Matt's otherwise monotonous job. The sight of her never failed to warm him from his groin to his face. Every morning, she lit him up like stadium lights. For the millionth time, Matt fantasized about squeezing her delicious tits while drilling her. The location changed—from bed to beach to the driver's seat of her Nissan to even fucking while standing up in his cramped toll booth. Wherever they did the deed, there was always the heat of her vagina and the heavy weight of her plump melons filling his hands.
In reality, though, he only said, "Hey there," smiled, and took her money.
She winked. For the first time. There it was, clear as day.
Matt thought, Huh? What was that?
But before he could utter any words, the blonde drove away from the tollbooth.
Watching the Nissan zoom away, he shuddered with excitement. Was she flirting with me? Hell, it was just a wink. She could've had something in her eye.
"Hey buddy, wake up. I don't have all day."
The voice cleared Matt out of his daze. Here was a guy in a navy suit sitting in a dark green Pathfinder. He had a smirk on his face as he jabbed two bucks at Matt.
"Sorry," Matt muttered as he took the jerk's toll money, and added it to the bills in his hand.
The guy gave an exasperated snort as if to say that now he was late for the meeting that would've clinched the company merger deal and would've skyrocketed him to a six-figure salary and the corner office.
"Fuck you," Matt mumbled as the guy sped off.
Matt tapped the four dollar bills on the cash register. A little white card peeked out. He freed it and saw that it was a business card with an address printed on it .
"Excuse me? Sir?"
Here was a middle-aged woman with a short, sensible haircut in a beige minivan. She looked half-asleep. Steam rose from a coffee mug nestled in a holder next to a radio that squawked the morning's news.
"Sorry 'bout that," Matt said. He leaned out, gave her a sly wink, and took her toll money.
She frowned and shook her head before driving off.
Think about that all day, sweetie. Ask your co-workers what that wink meant.
Matt slipped the six dollar bills into the cash register and put the business card to the side. In between drivers, he glanced at the card. "Strathmore Club. 37 Freemason Drive."
Blondie must've grabbed it out of her wallet by mistake.
Then he turned it over. On the back was a handwritten note: "Saturday 11 a.m. Hope you can show up. Vivian."
Can't be a mistake. This and her wink? No mistake. Nope. What is this place? Country club? Is she gonna take me golfing?
The mental image of him wearing ridiculous green plaid pants and a bright yellow shirt made him laugh out loud. The drivers going through his booth must've thought he was crazy. He didn't care. Another mental image flashed: Blondie on the greens of hole #1 wearing a tank top and short skit that matched the colors and patterns of his ridiculous shirt and pants. But they looked much better on her. Her tits looked huge in the clingy tank top. Her short skirt rustled in the breeze. It rose effortlessly when he bent her over and clenched her ass cheeks while plunging his raging hard-on into her hot slit.
Those fantasies—and others—entertained Matt in the tedious hours until quitting time. For the millionth time, he was thankful that Blondie didn't have one of those devices on her car that automatically deducted tolls so she could zip through the special lanes. And she picked his tollbooth out of all the dorks taking money. It was laughingly easy to decide to visit Strathmore Club on Saturday.
Now Blondie had a name. Vivian. And she had invited him to a what seemed to be a date. His brain whirled as to what she had in store for him. He hoped it would include a tight tank top and short skirt that rose easily.
Strathmore Club. The place sounded classy, so Matt had dressed in khaki pants and a white button-down shirt. At the address was a tall red-brick wall with an even taller green hedge showing above it. Clearly, the club's members didn't want any riffraff getting in or spying on them. Matt pulled up to the guard booth and handed the card to a beefy guy wearing dark shades.
Beefy guy read the card, made a quick call, then said, "You're good to go."
The electronic gate swung open and Matt drove through, finding a parking lot completely surrounded by the tall hedge. He parked next to a silver Beamer. Glaringly obvious was how his rusty Ford F150 stood out among the Mercedes, Jaguars, and Range Rovers. But no red Nissan 350Zs. Vivian's car.
Guess I'm early. She'll probably be fashionably late.
He laughed at himself when he locked his truck. Like anybody's going to break into this piece of shit.
An opening in the hedge was flanked by palm trees. The palms also lined a sidewalk leading away from the parking lot and toward a white stucco building with a Spanish-tiled roof. Typical for South Florida. A wide expanse of pampered green grass stretched around the building. Beyond rolled the gentle hills of a golf course.
Matt turned his head toward the chirpy voice. A brunette woman sat with her legs crossed in the shade provided by an overhang on the front of the building.
Who's this? Is that some weird bikini that matches her skin?
Huh? How does she know my name?
She uncrossed her legs and stood up, revealing a sight that no bikini bottom could replicate.
Holy fuck. That's pussy, man.
As she strode toward him on long, lean legs, her ponytail bounced and her perky breasts jiggled. No bathing suit. No shirt. No shorts. Two nipples and a thin landing strip of pubic hair were deliciously visible to the world. The only things she wore were sunglasses, sandals, and a wide smile of glossy pink lips. His dick stirred.
Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Holy fuck.
"Matt? Are you okay?"
Jesus. Stop staring, man. Get your shit together. His head snapped up to make eye contact through her sunglasses.
"Uh, um, yeah," he managed to say.
"Ah, the statue speaks." Her smile spread wider, as if to say she fully understood his situation. She extended her right hand. "I'm Trisha. Welcome to Strathmore. Vivian is going to meet up with you later. So I'll be your official welcoming committee."
On autopilot, Matt looked down to locate her hand. But in doing so, he got another eyeful of tits and trimmed bush. He quickly shook her hand and shot his head back up, saying, "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean—"
"Yeah you did." Her smile never left. Not a hint of being bashful. "And so what? Go ahead, soak it in." She took a step back and spread her arms wide. "I've worked hard on this body. Too hard to hide it."
Matt accepted her invitation, taking in every inch of her as she slowly turned in a circle. Usually, he had to drive to a strip club, guzzle a minimum of two drinks, and drop a stack of dollar bills to get this. Her hard body begged for eyes to stare and hands to wish they could stroke it.
Jesus, what I could do to that sweet body. His hardening cock pushed against his pants, yearning to be set free.
"Very sweet," he said. "You're gorgeous. Seriously."
She beamed with pride. "Thank you."
Finally, his brain's gears started to click. "So…um…is this a nudist camp or something?"
"Yup. Clothing's optional. More stuff, too. But we'll get to that later. I'll show you around the place. I just know you're gonna love it here. But first, you've gotta hit the showers." She pointed to the front door of the white stucco building. "Locker room's in there. Stow your clothes and take a shower. Don't worry about locking anything up. It'll be safe. Make sure you bring sandals and a towel when you come back out. You'll find 'em in there."
Matt's brain had gone from frozen to whirling full speed ahead. A nudist camp. Jesus. Fuck golf, man. What did she mean by more stuff? Who cares? She's naked. And she's got to have friends. They'll be naked, too. Just like her. You just need to walk around in your birthday suit. Can you handle that? Fuck yeah, man.
"Gotcha," he said and smiled back at Trisha before stealing another glance at her bush, then heading for the entrance.
He was almost at the door when Trisha called out, "Don't forget to scrub everywhere! I mean it—everywhere!"
"Gotcha," he called back and walked through the doorway.
In the hallway, Matt went opened the door marked "MEN." The locker room was immaculately clean with lots of ritzy details: lockers and floors of what looked like bamboo, granite countertops, expensive-looking tiles, and luxurious multi-head showers.
The place was empty of people. Nobody who could've helped him out by answering the many questions that bounded inside his head. A guy would've given Matt some straight answers. But with no straight answers, he had to follow Trisha around and stare at her hot ass.
The hot shower felt wonderful. The liquid body soap smelled expensive. Matt considered jerking off to calm his hard-on. A limp dick might have been less embarrassing than walking around the Strathmore Club with a big stiffy swinging about. Maybe even more polite. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. But when you're in a nudist camp, what do you do?
He decided against masturbating. Fuck it. Let everyone see his excitement. This could've been his only visit at the club, so why not live it up? Why hide his joy of being here? He followed Trisha's advice to scrub thoroughly. His dick had softened a bit, but he knew it would leap back to attention the moment he saw Trisha again.
The bottles of cologne and packaged toothbrushes on the long sink counter helped him prepare for the club even more. He found his size among the sandals tucked into cubbyholes. He plucked a thick, fluffy towel from the stack and threw it over his shoulder.
It was strange to not put on any clothes in a public place. Home was completely different—he walked around naked with no discomfort. But here, his nudity carried an odd feeling. Still, he headed back outside, fully naked and ready for adventure.
Trisha sat in the shade of the building's overhang. She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and didn't hide her obvious survey of his body.
Fair's fair, baby. Get an eyeful.
Her gaze stopped at his dick and lingered. Matt turned slowly, just as she had done for him before he stepped into the locker room.
"Scrumptious," Trisha said when he faced her again, her eyes still resting on his package.
"Suddenly I'm in the mood for volleyball," he said.
No response. She vacantly stared at his cock that had finished rising again. A stiffy once more.
He repeated, "Volleyball? Isn't that what everybody plays in a nudist camp?"
"Um. Yeah. Uh." She shook her head slightly and raised it to look at his face again. Her smile returned. " Mmm." She cleared her throat. "Sorry 'bout that. Little distracted. Now, where were we?"
"Not yet, big fella. But you'll get your chance, don't worry. Now it's time for the rules." She bent and picked up a bright orange bottle from the ground. "At Strathmore, we protect our skin from the sun. Very important." She showed him the bottle of sunscreen lotion. "I'll do the honors."
"No argument here."
She popped the bottle's top and squeezed a glob of lotion on her palm. It reminded him of ejaculation. He was glad he didn't masturbate in the showers.
"Back first," she said and jumped behind him.
She pushed the towel off his shoulder. The lotion was cool on his shoulder blades. She massaged the lotion all over his back.
What's gonna happen when she gets there? He gazed down at himself. His cock was fully erect. Twitching, even. Maybe she'll skip it. Ask me to do it. But she had stared at it. I'll just suggest she take care of it. Put some lotion on it. See what she does.
"So…did you meet Vivian at the gym?" Trisha asked. Her hands rubbed his lower back.
He almost asked who she meant when the image of the written note on the business card popped in his mind. Blondie, you dummy. The reason you're here.
"Um, not really," he said. "I…uh…well, I work at a toll booth, and she gave it to me." He hated saying where he worked. Especially to a hottie.
"But I bet you didn't get this body working at a toll booth." Her hands moved to his butt, and they felt so nice.
"Nope. Not at all. I used to work in construction, but I injured my back a few years ago. Pretty badly. Took a while to recover."
Trisha still massaged lotion on his ass cheeks, even after covering them a couple of times.
Matt continued, "I tried construction again, but no go. Couldn't lift the heavy stuff. Not all day long. So"—he shrugged his shoulders—"I work in a toll booth."
Her hands moved to the backs of his legs. "Hey, there's nothing wrong with that. Somebody's got to do it, right?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
"Look at it this way. You got here, didn't you? If you were still doing construction, I bet you'd never step foot in this place. And now you've got a naked chick rubbing suntan lotion on you."
He laughed. "You've got a point."
Still crouching, Trisha slid around to Matt's front. Her hands massaged his thigh as she moved around.
"Whoa there," she said, staring at his full erection. She looked up at his blushing face. "You should be more careful. You could put someone's eye out with that thing."
"Don't act so surprised. You saw it when I came out of the locker room." Please, please, please touch it. Stroke it. Lick it.
"Did I ever. It looks even better close up." She resumed applying the lotion to his legs. She was careful to not touch any part of his trembling shaft. "You know, you're not gonna have any problems making friends here."
"I'd like to think I'm a friendly guy."
"And a body like this doesn't hurt."
Trisha stood, then spread lotion on his chest. She didn't seem to be bothered by his dick touching her hip. Her skin felt warm and smooth against his throbbing rod. The smell of the suntan lotion reminded him of beaches with hot sun, hot sand, and hot babes in bikinis. Her hands lingered on his stomach, taking more time than she needed.
"There," she said. "That oughta do it."
"Thanks," Matt replied and quickly kissed her on the cheek. It seemed a nice gesture. More polite than grabbing her tits that were so close and enticing.
She wasn't surprised at all. Nor mad at his move.
"You missed a spot," he said.
"Oh really? Where?" She seemed amused.
"Right down there." Matt looked down at himself. "I'd rather not get a sunburn there."
She gave a little laugh. "Of course not." She wiped her hands on his towel. "That wouldn't be good." She rolled the towel into a tight cylinder. "Not good at all." She dropped the towel to the ground in front of him. "Poor baby would get hurt."
In slow motion, she stooped to her knees and swallowed his cock.
Matt sucked in a sharp breath and stared in amazement at her lips wrapped around his shaft. As those sweet lips inched closer to his body, his cock pushed further into her throat. Warm. Wet. Fucking wonderful. His knees shook.
"Oh God," he gasped. "Oh fuck."
Trisha's lips touched his pubic hairs. "Mmm-hmm. Mmm."
He steeled himself to not burst right then and there.
Slowly, ever so slowly, her head backed up until his purple knob left her mouth with a little pop. She wiped her lips with her forearm.
She looked up at him with a big grin. "Yummy. I like to start off with a bang." She ran one hand across his abdominal muscles, then down to his pubic hair, then slid a finger across the top of his cock. "Beautiful. Vivian, you sure can pick 'em."
Her tongue swirled around his cockhead, playful now, toying with him rather than swallowing him whole. Her tongue flicked the underside of his knob, then danced around his shaft. Then she reared back, pausing to let him take in the warm air on his saliva-moistened dick. Blood pounded in his skull. She placed her hands on his abs, rolling a bumpy journey over them before departing for his hips. She clutched each hip firmly. Her glossy pink lips rested against his cock's tip as if they couldn't make up their mind to just give a little peck on his dickhead or fully kiss it.
Somewhere a lawn mower started up, which must've been her starting gun, because her lips parted and took him in again. Her ponytail swayed as her head bounced up and down. Her mouth made wet, smacking noises as she sucked.
Too soon, his breathing quickened and his groans grew louder. She must've caught the clue, because she released his cock from the delicious warmth of her mouth.
Damn! Why can't I stay longer?
Trisha moved to the side, gripped his throbbing purple rod, and pumped it with a tender fist. Her saliva coating his cock made for great lubrication.
"Fuck!" He grunted and spurted.
Trisha stopped pumping and squeezed gently as load after white load flew in an arc, and then fell onto the grass. After the last drop of cum fell, she stood, and kissed his cheek
"Sorry for the hand," she said. "But I don't swallow for guys I just met. Even hot ones."
Matt felt dizzy. "Oh my God. That rocked."
She kissed his cheek again, but he swiftly turned his head to kiss her hard on the mouth. When their lips parted, Trisha stepped back, the grin still there.
"And a good kisser, too. The hummer's on the house. Since you're new." She winked. "But remember what you learned as a kid. When someone does something nice for you, you do something nice back. It's not exactly a rule here, but more like being polite. Women are going to do favors for you. Just pay 'em back. Got it?"
"You kidding? Of course I'd pay 'em back. I'll pay you back right here. Lie down on that grass and I'll pay you back plenty."
Trisha's grin grew wider. "That's so sweet. But like I said, the hummer's on the house. I'm the welcoming committee, and I wanted to welcome you properly. I really ought to show you around the place."
"Gotcha. Can't wait to see it."
She tossed him the towel, grabbed his hand, and they began walking on a path that went over a small hill toward a large building.
"I like your spirit, though," she said. "It's gonna help you make a lot of friends here." Her eyes twinkled. "Besides, when you come back again, I'm gonna make sure you pay me over and over."
Matt, still walking a little unsteady from the blowjob, froze at the sight before him.
They had followed the path to the building, which looked like a rich mansion in the same architectural style as the much smaller building containing the locker rooms. White stucco with a Spanish-tiled terra cotta roof. A large and impressive mansion similar those Matt had seen in a tour in Miami showing off the homes of movie stars and other celebrities. The grounds around this mansion were no less impressive. It was a posh resort, boasting palm trees, a shimmering pool surrounded by lounge chairs, and a tiki bar. Behind a covered patio dotted with tables and chairs, there was a building with large plate glass windows, through which people eating at restaurant tables could be seen. Reggae music wafted from hidden speakers. Just beyond the pool area was a sand volleyball court.
But the resort's trappings weren't what stopped Matt in his tracks.