Blame It On Rio De Janeiro

And her poem sounded like she was crying out to do the same.

"Good morning my lady, if it pleases thee, I have a surprise for you."

She almost rolled her eyes, but then the sad, polite version came through. "Really Uncle Gerry? That sounds wonderful, but I really must get ready for Stanford. So much to get organized and lots to buy."

If that was the best she could do this would be easy.

"It involves painting. By the pool."

"I don't mean to sound rude, Uncle Gerry, but that was my Mom's thing." A twinge of anger showed on her face. Even that looked sexy as her lips drew slightly taut.

"Your Mother's ridiculous paintings are locked up gathering dust somewhere, and so is she down in Rio. You are free now, Isabella. There is so much creativity in you. It is aching to be expressed. Trust me, as an artist myself I can see it."

"You think I'm an artist? Based on a 4 line poem?" The brief moment of sarcasm in her eyes told him this was working.

No, based on seeing you. On seeing you this past month. On seeing you grow from a girl into a woman. On seeing you get "Uncle" Gerry so hot he dropped his beer when he saw you in a bikini."

That got a giggle. It was beautiful.

"So I can get a dirty old man so fired up he drops his beer. That makes me an artist?"

"No."

"No?" She raised an eyebrow. Did she just bop her head a few times?

"No. Not an artist. Art. You are art in its purest form. You emit art. You can't help it. When you speak, when you write -

When you bob your head and bite your lip like that."

"Uncle Gerry, shame on you. Are you trying to hit on me?"

"Only if you drop the Uncle and start giving me back those smiles, head bobs and wetting of your lips." She stuck out her tongue. He solidified completely.

She got a serious look again. "Gerry, I know you want me. For some reason I like you too. It would be scandalous, however, for us to have sex so soon after my father died and my mother abandoned me to your care. What would the newspapers say if we were caught?"

"Sex! Whose talking about sex? I'm talking about painting. And what's with the 'for some reason I like you too?'"

She licked her upper lip and he nearly fainted on the spot. "Well, you are old enough to be my grandfather."

She was back. The mopey Isabella had been put away for good.

"Your Grandfather? I believe there will have to be a spanking after this session." The head bob was back. She also had an impish glint in her eye.

"I think we better get this session started then, but my bikini is still locked up in probate."

"It won't be necessary."

------------------

Gerry had more particular tastes than his recently deceased partner Zeke. His house was architecturally sophisticated and had many terraces and pools surrounding a small but impressive garden. Oklahoma wasn't known for thick forests, but Gerry had found one in which he buried his entire estate. The large trees walled off his garden and pool area, giving him a place to relax in privacy and an almost surreal state of peacefulness.

Isabella was born to be in this garden. In his pool. In his paintings. The next few hours would be nothing short of glorious.

"Where do we start?" She asked, admiring the marble and granite pool. She had been to his house only a few times. Zeke and Juanita did all the entertaining.

"I think on that table next to the pool. It's quite comfortable and can be used for sunbathing or a massage." He didn't mention that it could hold his weight as well, even if they were in the throes of passion. One look from her and he realized that she already understood.

"I get to pick the music," she said, and began to walk over to the console.

Ugh.

"I don't think there is any Taylor Swift in my collection." He knew she could just add it, but was curious as to what would be her response.

"Tay Tay is much better than what you old Grandpas listen to, but I'm not sure I want to see the results of having me force it on you during your creative process. It might look like a paint by numbers disaster."

"Grandpa again? The spanking is going to really hurt."

She bit her lip and touched the screen of her phone. Samba Pa Ti, one of Santana's earliest instrumentals, filled the air.

The weight of his balls nearly doubled.

"Gather what you need then. Let me prepare." Her head didn't bob now. It flowed. Like Carlos did on the guitar.

He couldn't believe how she had already taken control of the situation, and he loved it. Her "preparation" consisted of stripping off all of her clothes and diving into the pool. Her body seemed to simply resist clothing. When others undid a pair of shorts or panties they had been wearing, the pattern was imprinted into their skin for at least a minute or two. Her clothes simply fell to the ground and her smooth skin started embracing the sun as if it was meant to be there. No imprints. No rough edges. No imperfections at all.

Her body was as perfect as he had ever seen, and that was saying a lot. He had closets full of paintings he had made of women in various states of undress. No one even came close to matching the vision that had just been flashed before his eyes. Her long slender legs were capped by an ass so beautiful it made your hands involuntarily start to make squeezing motions even though you were across the pool. Her abdomen was flat but not interrupted by overly buff muscles. Instead she had one of those deep looking navels that completely captured your gaze and brought on visions of paintings adorning pirate captain's quarters in the South Seas.

Her breasts were completely unlike her mother's. She had smaller nipples but not small enough to hide the pinkness of the areola and the stiff rosebud shape of her tip. The shape of her breasts were exactly what women ask for when they visit a plastic surgeon (unless they wanted ridiculous balloons glued to their chest). No surgeon could match the look completely. It was better to be born with the original. Isabella was the original.

She had a small, neatly trimmed stripe of pubic hair -

"Gerry?" She broke the vision to garner his attention. She had taken a swift lap and then exited the pool to lie facedown on the table. A quick flip of her hair was all the preparation she needed.

"I'm sorry."

"Good thing you weren't holding a beer," she giggled. "Is it OK that I'm wet?"

His jaw refused to move.

"Don't look at me that way you dirty old man. I mean will the water affect any of the lighting or tones?."

He had no saliva in his mouth whatsoever. The nearby Corona was his only savior. Taking a huge gulp finally allowed him to speak. "No, it seems to add to your aura. You were born for the sun."

"You are joking. I have incredibly light skin. My mother can be out in the sun all day and never so much as get a little pink."

"Let's leave your mother out of this. Today is a new beginning for you, but thanks for the warning. You have used sunscreen?"

"Of course."

"How about rolling on to your side facing away from me. Let your legs lie comfortably with your knees slightly bent to bring out the tightness of your ass even better. That's it. Now bring your left arm up in an arc and run it through your hair while you bring your right shoulder back to look straight at me. Perfect. Can you hold that for a while?"

"Yes. But this pose? Seriously? You are such a classic. This better look like a Monet, and not a Picasso."

"A Manet, actually. Maybe we do need to use a towel behind your ears. It seems a bit wet as far as your knowledge of painting history is concerned."

"Oh gramps, I think it is time for some Kanye West!"

"I did have an erection. Thanks for killing it."

He proceeded to lay down his initial strokes and decided he could get to like Isabella for more than just her body. She had a wit about her that he enjoyed. They could carry on a fantastic conversation. Two months ago he could count the number of words he had said to her with a single hand. Now he was being spurred to a new level of artistic creation and was possibly - no - falling in love with her?

"Gerry?"

"Why thank you for calling me that! Yes?"

"I think I'm getting a cramp."

"Oh let me help!" He immediately put down his brush and rushed over to her. She wasn't overly distressed but didn't look too good. She was spacing out her words like she was falling into a dream state. He lifted her up and gave her fresh water. She drank greedily. He noticed that even in this state, she licked the rim enticingly before handing the bottle back. "She must not realize she is doing it," he thought.

"I think you better rub it," she groaned. She must really be hurting. He felt guilty, looking at the sun and realizing how long it had been for her holding the same pose.

"Where is it?" He asked.

She dropped onto her back causing her breasts to jiggle and her nipples to stare him in the face. He could not wait to immortalize them in paint, but more pressing matters were at hand.

"Give me your hand." He held it out and she wrapped it in hers. I'm sorry. I should have told you earlier. The cramp started a while ago."

"That's OK. Let's just take care of it now."

"That's what I was thinking too." She parted her legs and rested his hand on her open pussy, rubbing it around slightly to let him feel how sopping wet she was. He should have been stunned. He was simply consumed.

"Oh you she-devil. You got me." He started working his fingers inside. Her clit arched up for attention but her wetness made him think it might be best to avoid it. She might climax before he had a chance to be inside her. That was now his only goal. It consumed his mind and his body.

Gerry dropped his clothing and climbed up to kneel between her legs. She watched his every move. "I'm sorry to call you Grandpa," she said, "you are a handsome man with a fine body. Your cock is huge. Please be gentle."

He looked at her eyes and realized she was serious. He seriously doubted she was a virgin. Maybe high school boys didn't come well equipped anymore.

"Of course, Isabella. You guide me in. I would never hurt you."

She looked in his eyes and the cold grey was nearly blue. "I want to make love with you Gerry. I want to make love and when I cum, we both cum together. I have wanted that for some time." He began to worry it might be him that came too fast. That was the most arousing thing he had ever heard.

She reached down and lightly stroked his shaft. Even her touch felt like an art form. Guiding him towards her opening, she used the tip of his penis to part her lips and then rubbed it around slowly. With each circle she was working it in slowly, and getting wetter. Finally the tip was inside, but she still held onto his shaft. She was pulling him in slowly.

"I don't want to be treated like a child anymore, Gerry. You were always the one who I've looked to for some form of sanity. If you weren't around, I think my parents would have turned me into a some sort of drug addict or psycho killer. It doesn't help that your body drives me nuts. I've only wanted you. I've known it ever since the night at the clinic."

He knew exactly the night she was talking about. She had been dating a freshman in college, and he had hit her. She was afraid her father would kill him, so she called Gerry. He nearly killed the boy anyway. They took him to the clinic for stitches, letting his parents know loud and clear that he was never to come near her again.

When they later stopped in her father's driveway, she took his hand and thanked him. They looked in each other's eyes and something came over them. They were within inches of each other and about to kiss when she pulled back and said goodnight.

"I thought it was just me that night. You pulled away."

"I saw my mother watching through the kitchen window. I had to stop it."

He was overcome with passion and started kissing her. Lightly at first, but then hard and deep. His cock was doing the same thing inside her pussy. The table by the pool started creaking as they were filling the air with moans of pleasure.

"Oh God I can't last any longer. Cum with me Isabella. Cum."

They pulled at each other's buttocks and he felt her pussy start to contract even tighter around his cock. She was quivering and started to pull him in even deeper. They both came.

"Oh my God Isabella. I love you!" His cock exploded just as her pussy went into spasms. They were like a concert, coming together in waves and then radiating it back out to their fans. The crowd was going nuts. Carlos just started "Black Magic Woman" and - who was that? - Taylor Swift was singing. More beautiful music has never been made.

At the peak, Gerry suddenly had a vision. It was as if he was on an airplane and broke through the clouds. Then he was in a palace. He was looking at two infants who were playing in a small garden by a Gazebo. One had a dandelion whose spores were floating off in the breeze. The other was trying to catch them by clapping at them as infants do. They were both laughing and rolling around on their naked rumps in the summer sun.

"Hold me," Isabella begged as she couldn't stop trembling. She shed no tears, but it had obviously been a deeply emotional experience for her. It had been for him as well. It was by far the most intense orgasm he ever had. They held each other tightly. Did he really say that he loved her?

She had stopped trembling and was looking in his eyes. "I'm sorry I said that," he said softly. "That was just so beautiful."

"Oh, you will be definitely sorry." She sounded a bit hoarse.

"How's that?"

"Because I will forever hold you to it. Gerry, our age doesn't matter. We are kindred spirits. As artists we both understand how important that can be."

"Won't you get sick of calling me old?"

"Not at all. You really stink at catching dandelions, by the way."

That decided it. For him. For her. The summer had won again.

-----------

"The small town in Oklahoma had never been rocked by such a scandal as it found itself in during the Summer of 2021. The largest grocery chain in the country lost one of its co-founders, Ezekiel Evans, in a tragic accident. The man's wife soon left the country to return to Rio De Janeiro, where she was unsuccessful in her bid to buy out the largest portion of the inheritance from her 18 year old daughter Isabella.

Within days of the settlement, Isabella married her father's partner, Gerard Stevens, 25 years her senior. Mr. Stevens had never previously married and was a notorious playboy, often seen on yachts and at extravagant parties with a woman on each arm-"

"Now stop right there. Who told you that last part?"

Andrea wanted to become a famous reporter. Her first assignment had been to write a feature on her sister and older husband's story. Juanita reluctantly agreed.

"I can't reveal my sources Uncle Gerry."

He looked over his glasses. Isabella had a wry smile. "He's not your Uncle anymore, Andrea. He is your Brother-in-law."

"But I always call him Uncle Gerry."

"I know sweetie." Isabella walked over and gave Andrea a hug. It had been nearly seven years since she had seen her. "But he is starting to get upset when anyone reminds him he is old."

"Don't I still owe you a spanking?"

"I don't think you are up to it anymore, Gramps."

Lucia rolled her eyes. "Stop! I'm about to vomit you two."