Stroke

byFrankLee090©

*Note* All characters are at least 18. I hope you'll enjoy this little interlude. Your feedback and comments are always welcome.

*****

Just at the sweat dripping apex of Ryan's morning workout, Marina came out through the back of the house next door wearing the kind of bikini he'd only seen in pictures. It fit her like a bikini that didn't fit her. The network of neon blue cords and bow knots rode the dance of her heavy body in a way that made him feel drugged. He forgot himself and stopped, paralyzed by the way she moved through her yard, casually inspecting and primping her flower beds.

She was almost double his age, and double the size of the girls who usually wrenched his neck, but she had a way of wearing her pneumatically exaggerated features like a badge of honor. Her breasts were heavy and careless, while her ass was thicker and rounder than he ever imagined being packed into an outfit like hers.

Everything about Marina was breezy and brash. It wasn't that she was really all that big, but somehow just a little bigger than life. She had deep brown, Mediterranean skin that always seemed to be shining, and the finest, darkest hair he'd ever seen. Even her accent took wide, luxurious curves around the syllables when she spoke. And although she seemed petite for her size, she carried herself as tall as any woman he knew. Ryan had always been taught to admire girls like Kayla, his girlfriend; slender girls with hard, miserly curves that could knock a man's heart out of its natural rhythm.

He couldn't think of a woman from home even close to Miranda's body type having the audacity to wear anything as skimpy, but she moved with such bold confidence -- perfectly at home in her skin - it put all the imaginary barriers in their place.

The whole planet was full of shit, and Ryan's heart clenched like a fist full of stolen jewels.

She didn't say hello or wave like she usually did, taking the time to be friendly and flash her bright, toothy smile. She barely even seemed to notice he was there, lifting weights until his taut, hairless body was shimmering with sweat in the sun. Her eyes, dark and smoky, scanned the area as if he weren't even part of it, surveying the barbered grounds a professional crew had worked on the day before.

Ryan was only wearing dark blue bike shorts, and as he followed the proud jut of Miranda's half saddled breasts, it felt like the air was shifting gears. He took a moment to pour water down his throat from the bottle beside his mat. He angled it over his head and doused himself, hoping the cool trickle would take the edge off his spiking body heat. Then he started lifting again, afraid this unexpected view of his temporary neighbor would cause his young cock to rise beyond his control.

It was bad enough being banished here for the summer, pressured to train for the university talent scouts in the fall. The last thing Ryan needed was to alienate the only neighbor who'd spoken to him in weeks -- the only neighbor even within eyeshot. There were precious few people to talk to as it was. His father had chosen the area for its sparse population. The backyard of the house he'd rented for Ryan's summer training ran straight to the edge of a small lake, and the local roads were excellent for running, being mostly shaded by tall hardwoods and lightly traveled at best.

Ryan had been there long enough to learn abject boredom could be a powerful motivation to spend hours working diligently to reach his father's goal. As for his own goals, Ryan just wanted to spend the summer hanging with his friends, spending aimless days and nights with Kayla.

He felt sluggish at first, as he went back to dragging the weights toward his chest in desultory bicep curls. It felt like punishment. This whole, perfect place was nothing but a glossy prison, but he kept his eye on Marina, watching her move like something he was planning to dream later on. The speed of his curls slowly increased, until he was sputtering out breath with each exertion. It felt like he was punishing himself even more than his father was by sending him here, more than the unforgiving meat grinder of the university athletic system waiting to swallow him alive.

He pumped and grunted against the weight until all the muscles in his arms and shoulders were singing. Sweat poured down his face while the corner of his eye was trained on Marina. The neon turquoise of her scant bikini stood against the creamy almond brown of her skin in bright, triangular patches that never seemed to catch up with the movement of her body.

In the slender strips of her bikini, her breasts seemed to strut with an air of mesmerizing prominence, with nipple erections that demanded attention.

Ryan noticed everything. He noticed the way the little hollows formed in her ass muscles when she moved a particular way. He noticed the way everything about her seemed to glisten, as if she were made of something partly liquid. He noticed the way the sun played across the bunch and sway of her damp breasts, and the way her body turned in a kind of dance with her plants and flowers.

While the weight seemed to double, Ryan's rippling arms only seemed to pump faster and harder. Every glistening muscle in his finely tuned body stood tensely defined as his form seemed to move and strain in a single, flowing continuum of sinew, flesh and bone. His grunting gasps for air grew deeper and louder as ripe blood rushed through the meat of his sleek arms and legs, rushing to thicken his tingling cock with heat.

Marina sank to her knees on her perfectly manicured lawn, leaning down on one hand to pull at a few, stray weeds among her flowers. Ryan grunted aloud when he saw the bright thong pull tightly along the smooth cleft delineating the spheres of her ass. Even at a distance, her pussy looked puffed and swollen against the snugly pasted gusset, and Ryan's straining crescendoed to a pitch, until he lifted the barbells one last time and thrust them away from his body, heaving them into the grass with a muted thud.

Marina turned her head part way, casting an offhand glance toward the sound of the fallen barbells but not at Ryan. He was wearing nothing under his bike shorts to stem the rising bulge of his eager cock, and he quickly turned away. Even though she was purposefully ignoring him, he knew a badly timed hard on would be hopelessly obvious.

Every muscle in his body was singing as he stood in the middle of the yard wondering which way to turn. Marina's stout ass and thighs faced him in raw invitation, swaying and rocking as she reached into the flowerbed with a scratching tool. His tense body felt like there was nothing but heat and steam inside. He suddenly wondered what kind of sound his hand would make swatting her ass. It was a strangely foreign thought, but the image made his pulse throb.

Irrational urgency filtered through Ryan's body as cravings and visions that never occurred to him before flashed through his mind. It seemed wherever his hands hung or his feet hit the matt was wrong. Marina's body lurched forward - frozen tableau in mid-crawl -- scratching up fertile soil. Ryan's blood felt like didn't fit inside his body.

A fresh pulse pounded in his temples while the prickling hot coil of meat between his thighs started to thicken and seep into his clinging shorts. In the position Miranda lurched into, he couldn't imagine the particular constellation of contours formed by her substantial ass and thighs existing anywhere else in nature. The glistening sheen across her extravagant flesh was coming on like neon -- a mesmerizing blend of lotion and sweat.

Ryan's heart jacked as he dreamt of blazing a wet lick-trail up the insides of her thick, hunkering thighs. A spear of hunger for anything that dripped off or out of her pierced him through the center. The world turned with the swivel of a woman's hips.

The bright thong disappeared between the full cheeks of Miranda's ass as she stretched, but the glaring flash of turquoise pasted over the puff of her squeezed pussy beamed at Ryan until his throat went dry. She was facing the other way. His right hand slid over the looming bulge of his cock, fingers sliding over the shaft as he blossomed into hardness.

Fuck it.

As much as Ryan knew he was being unmercifully taunted, it still felt wrong to stand there staring dumbstruck. It was all so out of the blue. Even though Miranda had been as friendly a neighbor as Ryan could imagine, he could barely wrap his mind around the way she was acting.

His cock was rippling with heat and punching against the slick fabric of his bike shorts. He could feel the damp stain spreading into them from the oozing dome of his cock as he rolled the pad of his finger around the gooey slick.

The moment she reared back, Miranda's pussy strained against the pastel gusset of her thong, ripe and puffy. She hovered in position a few seconds before sitting back on her haunches and stretching her body.

Ryan wanted to turn his back and hide the prominent hardness stretching his tight shorts, but he couldn't bring himself to take his eyes off his neighbor. He drew a hard rush of breath, feeling the play of taut, blood engorged muscles down the front of his body.

Miranda turned her head to the side, half looking toward him. Under the glaring sun, Ryan's cock pulsed and burst into flame while unrelenting dribbles of precum soaked a bigger stain in his shorts.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath.

Miranda bent forward and pressed her hands into the grass. She pushed herself up, rising to her feet with a paralyzing swivel of her durable hips.

"Fuck."

She walked toward the back door of her house, ignoring Ryan until she was only a few paces from the step. Without breaking stride, she tossed her dark, flowing hair and cast a fleeting glance at him. She flashed her ever-present smile, and even at the distance between them Ryan felt the brush of her eyes over his cobbled body and pulsing cock.

Miranda's screen door slapped shut and Ryan gripped his aching cock though the tight skin of his shorts with a groaning exhalation of breath. It was even more disorienting now that she was gone. He squeezed his shaft and moved his hand to cup his neatly tucked balls.

He wanted to follow her inside her house, but his feet refused to move. He wanted to go inside the small rental, his solitary home for the summer, and pump his raging prick until his brain exploded.

But his feet refused to move.

He thought of her moving through her house, the way her body would turn and quiver as she moved. He wondered if she could possibly be wet now, running her hands over the opulent curves of her gleaming body. Could she possibly be thinking of the flashing glimpse she had of his ravenously swollen cock straining for freedom?

She was there. Close enough to knock on her door and touch like an angel charged with the tender care of his sins.

She was untouchable, and yet his hands could feel the lotion soaked texture of her skin and hair already burned into his mind.

She was as far away as he could feel from a woman.

He needed to spin on his heels and run inside as fast he could, but instead he picked up the another water bottle and emptied it over his head just like he had with the first. The water cooled him for a moment, but in the sun it quickly steamed off his smooth, young skin.

He scanned the windows of her house, trying to bring the hazy visions in his mind into focus. He pushed his bike shorts off, letting his rigid cock snap free. The skin around his shaft and balls was shaved as smooth as the rest of his body. He had the kind of tan line that was beginning to darken, revealing how he sunbathed naked when he thought Miranda wasn't home.

Taking a few, careful steps closer to her yard, he knelt in the grass, facing the side of her house. His knees were spread wide, the weight of his balls dangling between muscular thighs while his stout shaft stood up against his abs. He leaned his weight backward onto the palm of his left hand while the right curled into a fist around his cock.

Sweat and sunlight felt like a pelt against his skin. His hand started moving up and down the fat girth of his shaft, slicking his heavily oozing precum over his flesh as his fingers slipped and slid over the ridge of his cock head.

"Today," he grunted at Miranda's strutting afterimage, "you make me want to fuck. Just fuck. You're like a fucking emergency my cock needs to be in the middle of."

His firm fist started to corkscrew as he pumped his steaming shaft. Whether she was hovering near a window or not, he imagined her watching. His breath deepened and his fist worked harder and faster. Lube oozed out of his knob like a piece of split fruit.

She had to be watching. Had to.

Ryan's hips arched upward into the gathering force and speed of his stroking hand. His spine curled and his muscles tensed. A feeling of scandal and freedom flushed through his body as he winced and felt her watching from the safety of her shady house.

She had to be pulling her expansive breasts free of the tiny triangles that barely held them. She had to be clawing at the heavy spheres of nut brown flesh, pulling and twisting her fat nipples. She had to be yanking that worthless fucking thong aside to shove her fingers up inside her shuddering, wet sheath.

She had to.

"Mmmmmotherfucker!" he growled. Huffing grunts took over his voice while his head fell back and his fist pounded the throbbing length of his starving cock shaft. He felt like he was spinning in backward circles while the feel and taste of Miranda's hot flesh invaded his senses.

He could fucking feel her. Taste and smell her.

Electric pulses started to jolt the length of his spuming cock. His balls drew up tightly into his retracting sac. His fist felt like a slam of spastic sensation -- pounding -- mauling the unyielding stone of his cock until he growled and arched his body into a hard, shuddering curl while cum burst through his stalk in a shower of wet sparks.

Ryan pumped his gushing cock until all the tension in his body suddenly gave way to a feeling of descending calm. Thick drabs of spunk cluttered his hand and lower abs. When he relaxed into a more comfortable sitting position, he could see the spatters of his cum in the grass.

His cock slowly relaxed. He still sat facing Miranda's house, but he couldn't bring himself to look toward her windows now. He didn't know how he could ever look her in the eye the way he had before, meeting in the yard or driveway the way amiable neighbors are supposed to. But then, maybe she was hiding in her house now because she felt shy about the way she'd strutted around in front of him. Maybe she wouldn't know how to cope with the way he'd look at her with abject longing.

He finally got to his feet and picked up his damp bike shorts, carrying them toward the house balled up in his cum soaked fist. He was already thinking how he'd let the shower run hot and then cool for a while. He knew it would help clear his mind. He and Miranda would have to be neighbors another two months.

He figured it wouldn't be long before they found a way to act like nothing ever happened.

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