A House Sitter's Adventure

A House Sitter's Adventure

There were no two ways about it, Julia thought, as she managed to park her bright yellow and sporty little car in front of the house that she was to mind for a week or so. What the agency had told her about Gerry Madeley's place was soon to be seen in every room that she peered into and as curiosity got the better of her. Any feminine touches, or ideas, would be found to be absent in the uber-modern décor that went so well in a mid-terrace property that was set in a desirable part of West London and with Kew Gardens only a short walk away. The River Thames was also close by.

The work was only too easy and she had fallen into doing it when she had decided to pursue life a little differently from the usual nine-to-five job that might pay the bills but became too much of a routine. This way she was open to surprises and the agency she was signed up with, and to which she paid a membership fee, had found her a fine house in a ragingly desirable location but where you, as an owner, never could take everything for granted. The house had to give the appearance of being lived in, even if the owner was away. They did not want to return and find that there had been a break-in, and the place ransacked for valuables before it was trashed.

For once, she was to look after the place of a single man and there were no pets to take care of, to groom and take for walks. She was willing to take on such duties, also, but preferred to keep things simple and this assignment certainly looked to be such a case.

With her things unloaded from the car and some favored foods put in the cavernous fridge of the kitchen -- it was all a part of an open-plan living and seating area with views out onto the garden -- she chose to take a tour of the place.

Her long-toed bare feet moved soundlessly over the coolness of the tiled floor, or they felt the softness of the scattered rugs before she saw a folded notecard perched on the island unit that separated the kitchen area from the rest of the room. Pictures and paintings adorned the glaringly white walls and she had spotted a group of four photos that were of the man of the house.

"I'll get to you in a moment," she murmured as the card was swept up in her slender-fingered hand and was read.

Hi Julia! I hope that you'll find the place as you hoped it would be. Please make yourself at home during your stay and I should be back on Friday at noon. I am expecting friends for the weekend so I hope we can agree that the place is left as you found it before then. Gerry Madeley

"It won't be a problem, Gerry," she murmured, tapping the card against her lips as she chose to step over to the framed photos of the man and looked at each one, closely, in turn. Self-obsessed, or vain, the man might be, but he was also rugged and well made, each picture showing a toned body that began with one of Gerry at ten, then twenty, then the last one at forty. Against each was also the written location where the photo had been taken. "You'd do for me, no mistake."

The last photo was of Gerry striding out of the surf in some tropical paradise, the sky an azure blue and the sea calm; his tanned body glistening and the water's surface scarcely covering the swell in his clinging beach shorts as he approaches the camera,

She'd sure like to have some of what the guy had brought to the taker of the picture, a woman she hoped. She thought of that as the stairs brought her to the first-floor landing that a glass dome, set in the ceiling high above her, lit with the brilliance of the afternoon sun outside.

Overcome by curiosity, she is amazed at the size of the master bedroom, by the luxurious fitting out of the en-suite shower room, both of them too much! She can't find the words to describe what she feels on seeing how the shower room has been equipped, with a glass screened shower area and mosaic tiled walls, large slabs for a floor; all of it set apart from a large bath that is set on a low plinth, the sides painted a royal blue to match closely the tiles of the shower area. She feels a rush of contentment. It's a spa and whirlpool bath where she can indulge herself.

She shakes her head in dismay as another door opens to reveal a dressing room with all of his suits and clothes neatly arranged in dustcovers, one wall lined with ash-fronted doors and drawer fronts. Gerry seems to have clothes for every occasion and a good-looking man, as she has seen from the photographs so carefully framed, lives well and goes out.

"You're quite out of my league," she murmurs as she catches her reflection in a full-height wall mirror. Her tousled blonde hair was in a pixie cut that gave a younger appearance to her lined, oval, face and straight lips, the soft pink lipstick barely noticeable, despite her tan. She looked after herself and dressed well in a somewhat rebellious style for a woman of her age, but she had long ago taken control and chosen a path in life that took in the work, or assignments, that she was now pursuing -- minding someone else's house.

What she pursued as a distraction from these ordered ways of it was kept for her 'down-time' when no work came in or it took time to secure it. That uncertainty made her live a downscaled life, to not live to any excess. All the more reason, then, to enjoy where she was and to think of the man who owned the place she was to look after while he was away.

She fusses over her hair for a moment, smiles at her reflection, and knows she should do more of that. It changes her features, lessens the severity of her face, and along with the rebellious cut of her hair, the chunky earrings, and a gold woven chain necklace that is tight on her slender neck would hold a man's look upon her a whole lot longer.

There's no such guy in her life at the moment.

♥

Settled into the room that Gerry assigned to her for the stay, she skips downstairs and pours out a generous measure of Rosé wine. It goes well with the easy-to-prepare light supper that she decides to eat early. She can spoil herself in a place like this and, so, after another glass of wine is poured she decides to take it upstairs and run that wonderfully inviting bath.

"Spoil yourself, girl," she says certainly as her clothes are stripped off and she glances at her naked body for an instant. A week out in the blaze of a Spanish resort's sun has given her broad-hipped, saggy-breasted, body a nice overall tan with no bikini marks to be seen on her skin, and her hair is still strikingly blonde thanks to that sun. She'd had some 'no strings' fun, while out there, and made up for months of denial. It's been a couple since she was there.

The house sound system streams some music she likes and she sways to the beat, watching herself in the mirror. She looks more than okay, her bum cheeks still taut, a neat tummy and shaven pussy stroked admiringly for a moment. Yeah, looked at like this, she was still so sexy, just as the guys at that beach party had told her and a couple had followed through on.

Like the words of the sung she listened to, as she stepped into the bath, even girls as old as her like to have fun.

She settles slowly into the water, somewhat hotter than she wants, and it relaxes her as she lies back and rests her head on the rounded rim of the bath. Her wine glass is in easy reach. What self-indulgent pleasure she soon feels coursing through her body! There's relaxing warmth, a drink, and she can breathe in the soft aroma of the bath oil that she had found on the high window shelf above her head before she stepped in.

All that's missing is a bathing companion, but she can imagine him as the image of Gerry floats hazily before her fluttering eyelids as she relaxes, and strokes her skin out of reflex, splashes water over the curves of her half-submerged breasts before her hands trail down over them, over her belly and to then linger and gently pull on her navel piercing before one finger slips past her pussy's lips and press on her clit.

She's into it now and forgets about her drink. One hand works her stiffening nipples as the other teases and caresses her clit, dipping into her warmth as she forgets that she's in a whirlpool bath but she has yet to turn it on and surrender to that pleasure.

Her wine is gulped down.

"Go for it, you're on your own so spoil yourself," she mutters.

She reaches for the control panel and marvels at the choices and how she can set the force of the water jets. She starts slow and settles back, feeling two outlets spurting water over her breasts and arousing little tingles in her nipples that the jets of water, and her fingers, arouse to an aching hardness. She groans as her pussy's lips receive caresses from another spout of water, her response being to lift her hips off the bottom of the bath and submit to the probing spurt of water that soon tease her clit, her body performing a ragged dance over this intrusion that is only to be stopped by switching off the pump.

"No way," she gasps in pleasure, "will I do that."

The jets of burbling water, and her fingers, spoil her body. She mimics the act and finger fucks her slit as the water jets are met. She loves these ways of spoiling herself and she wonders how it would feel to have the water jets turned up a notch or two.

"Oh yes, that sure feels a lot better."

She's ready for the onslaught, now, and she feels hornier than ever, the sensations of the water jetting against her pussy and onto her clit provoking her to twist and jerk, to turn on her side and put one leg on the side of the bath and to have one jet find her. No guy's got the energy to go at her like this without any reprieve or chances to catch her breath.

Her groans deepen and shorten, her hips rock and circle, and she also rises and falls. How wonderful and new the sensations the water jet brings to her are. She opens her legs further so that the jet has all of her pussy to caress. It becomes like a ballet performed by that jet of water and her agile fingers.

She knows that her movements are becoming jerkier and quicker; her feelings of pleasure are more intense for the novelty of what is being pursued. She takes snatches of her breath and lets the water, and her fingers, work their magic. She knows now what to do.

The rapid movements of her hips on that jet of water bring her close to an orgasm. She has nothing to hold onto and to stop the power of that water machine and to reduce the flow is not what she's at; she's enjoying this departure from all known ways too much. Her orgasm has to be delayed and to prolong this deviant water torture, is to make it more intense.

Her clit's become so darned sensitive, but she presses fingers to it and groans out of deviant pleasure as she 'rides' the pressure of that water jet and as the anticipation of surrender heightens. She really can't hold out for much longer but she turns the control a notch higher, still, her hand trembling in time with the juddering of her body, the buck of her hips, and she feels the cramps of her orgasm rise and overwhelm any remaining control.

"You should see what your bath does for me...has done for me, Gerry!" she cries out, her body wracked by an orgasm that grips her in cramping waves and that the water jet prolongs. She reaches out to turn off that pump and she relaxes, lets her body slide down under the turmoil of the water's surface, her hands sliding caresses over her breasts and belly, then down over her shaven mound as the last of her shivers of pleasure slowly ease away. "That was so good!"

She repeats it as her face breaks the surface of the water and squeals in surprise on seeing him standing in the doorway, the object of her bathtub fantasies made ragingly real.

"Gerry! You...you," she stammers, "you saw all of that?"

♥

He's been aroused beyond imagining by the sight of her in the bath; by the contortions of the ragingly sexy woman's broad-hipped body, and the soft gasps that escaped over her lips; by the sight of her touching her nipples and pinching them, tugging and letting go as she pleasured herself with the imaginative use of the water jets. He'd have to remember that the next time she might be asked to mind the house and bring to him so much more than what he had paid the house-sitting agency for.

A quite different woman is before him now and he wants her.

"Yes, I've been here a while," he smiles and gives her an approving look.

She has no idea of how long he has been back home. She had heard nothing and sensed even less, given what she had been pursuing, on her own That look of his upon her reveals what is now on his mind. The twinkle in his eyes and the slow lick of his tongue tip over his lips suggest enough. He's seen rolling up his shirt sleeves, the suit jacket she imagined him wearing for work or to go on his weeks' break cast aside over the landing rail beyond the bathroom.

"The music I had on kept me from hearing you...." she says, making no attempt to cover herself.

"Yes, that's so, or I'd have missed what you were doing." He leans against the doorpost as he says it, licks his lips, and smiles again so winningly. "Did you enjoy your bath?"

"Of course. A bathroom like yours makes anyone enjoy being there..."

"You know what I mean..."

"Yes, that too," she answers with a challenging smile. She scarcely knows him but she wants Gerry just as much as he seems to want her, or the woman he's seen playing in his bath.

"Let me see you...all of you," he asks and holds out a towel to her.

She stands up and senses his closeness, Gerry's unwillingness to step away. His touch, from her throat down over her breasts and belly, to the moist warmth between her legs feels so different from the jetting stream, but she shivers, nonetheless. She shivers under the caress of his agile fingers.

"I'll stop, for now," Gerry says and looks down to where he has touched her. "I didn't expect any of this."

"Me neither. Did you forget something?" she teases as the towel wraps around her body after she has stepped out of the bath. She fingers out her hair as his stare is met and held. "I don't behave like this in every place I go to look after."

"I'm not bothered about that, but by you," he retorts. "Yes, I did forget something and now I'm in no rush to leave, though perhaps I should."

She doesn't know where to go with this. Usually, owners don't come back to their place within a couple of hours of her showing up. And now, a ragingly handsome and horny guy has her emotions all tied up in knots.

" You've got a great place," she mutters, thinking quickly of something to say.

"Thank you. As you will have seen, I rattle about in it."

She meets his gaze as he stands in front of her and they gaze at each other's reflection in the tall wall mirror. She is all but naked to his sight and wants to tear away that close-fitting shirt and see the toned body of the man in the photograph; the stud in his clinging swimming briefs and what she did not need to imagine lay underneath.

Gerry's strong hand reaches out and tugs on the light cord with a snap. Only the dull light of early evening now enters the bathroom and still enables them to see each other, but not to touch.

"Stay," is all she says in response to that look of his upon her.

Like two magnets in the other's forcefield they are drawn together, two strangers with only one purpose; to consummate their lustful intentions that the sight, and now touch, of the other have aroused.

Their hungering mouths crash together and their tongues soon swirl in a dance of pure intent. One hand tugs loose the towel and she shifts to let it fall from her body, her hands trailing up to embrace his neck as Gerry caresses downwards and cups her mound, his agile fingers passing slowly and expertly over parted lips. His other hand trails through her wet hair and then tugs gently to make her look at him before he again kisses her. It joins his other hand but gropes her buttocks and draws her onto his fingers.

"Bring it to me!" she demands through their kisses as she manages to find him and feels how hard and full that bulge can be, the one she has seen in that beach photo. His fingers are in her and he presses against her clit and she collapses against him, tugging feebly at his shirt so that her hands can caress his skin.

"You were so darned sexy and hot in that little show you put on just now. Thinking of me, were you?" he whispers in her ear, his breaths arousing little shudders of longing to course through her body. She wants him for real and now, nods in reply to his teasing smile. He's seen it all, from start to finish, has he, but so what?

"It was only the prelude," she retorts, brazenly sure, and bites her lip suggestively before licking her lips. She looks at him with pleading eyes. "Undress for me so that I can see you."

Holding her look upon him Gerry slowly unbuttoned his shirt and loosened the cufflinks, each movement revealing more of his toned body to her sight until the shirt dropped at his feet. She trails wondering caresses over his skin and tugs on his belt, fumbles along with him to loosen the waistband buckle before her hands are on him.

"Oops! The house sitter wants the owner of the place!" she gasps as what he brings is held and caressed, Gerry's hands on her arms offering no restraint to her claims on him.

He tries to embrace her, to still the claims she's now making on him but she slips away in the direction of his bedroom. "Catch me...doing something else!"

"I will!" he laughs and pursues her.

"Come on!" she urges dismayed to see that stiff pole of flesh arcing out from his toned belly, the mat of hair dense and the domed tip glistening. "Gerry!"

Her cry of dismay fills the room, or so it seems, as she falls back on the bed and his strong hands grip her ankles and pull her towards him as he kneels on the edge, bending over to kiss her lustfully and does not prevent her reaching out to take his prick and to slick that domed tip over her slit, her urging caresses and tugs making him enter and trail circling caresses over her slit and seeking to go deep and fully enter her body. The slower he moves, opening the way to full penetration, her breaths hitch and her hands clamp his warm skin.

"I want you...want you to fuck me!" she gasps out of wanton longing, the combined effect of what the bath has aroused in her, and the sight of him, too much to withstand.

" I know," he smiles, his approving eyes so full of lust and admiration for the body he kisses and trails kisses over. His grip on her legs is fearsome and she is coaxed to lift her hips off the bed to meet his sinuous thrust into her slicked heat. "How does that feel, better than that water jet?"

A deep groan is the only answer that he gets as she moves to meet his thrusting rhythm, the tempo of the music on the house's sound system so appropriate. The beat has been slow, to begin with, but increases with almost every beat and he takes her now to the sound pounding in her ears and their hips crashing to the rhythm. Only their pursuit of pleasure provokes an intense beat of their bodies against the other; the sounds of pleasure and calls of encouragement make their union deeper and frenetic, their breaths quick and sharp.

"My house sitter belongs here with me!" he gasps as she expertly and energetically works him with her body; her hands and legs joining the pursuit of a tumultuous union of free spirits. Gerry feels he can't hold on much longer, the gnaw of his impending release impossible to ignore although he hears from her sharper intakes of breath, and feels how she clings to him, that Julia is near, perhaps closer to losing it.

"Hey!" she yells as he pulls out. "Don't say,' no condom'...I'm ready for it all!"

He keeps pushing and withdrawing into and out of her. Finally, he pulls and stays right out. He looks deeply into her eyes as he resumes caressing her pussy and clit with his fingers and as she reclaims his penis with the insistent grip and tug of her hand on it. She works him and yanks him off as her thumb razes his bulbous tip that's slicked with her juices.