My Opposite Day

I've had all sorts of days, but never one like this. It must have been Opposite Day. I was so unlike myself, a total opposite! Maybe I got thrown off when my friend who promised me she would come with me to this party bailed at the last second. I was five minutes away from their house when she called and said she couldn't come. We didn't know these people, having only recently moved here for both of our jobs. She had met them somewhere or other and they had invited her to come to a party they were having Sunday afternoon. They kindly said she could bring me too. Without her, the wonderfully extroverted friend who my shy self sometimes needed for support, I wanted to turn around and go home.

But I was almost there. Something in me said, "Well, just go." So I went. It was supposed to be a pool party. I had on a bathing suit and cover-up, and had brought a towel, big floppy straw hat, sandals, and sunglasses. I rang the doorbell, and the hostess welcomed me warmly. When I explained about my friend, she put me right at ease, "Oh, that's perfectly alright," and with a friendly wave of her hand, gestured for me to follow her. She led me through the house to the back, then out to the pool. Not just a pool--a beautifully designed landscaped outdoor pleasure palace. It had everything: lawns, flowers, trees, saltwater pool, deep blue Jacuzzi, giant barbecue grill, bar, wine cooler, and all kinds of seating arrangements-- some in the sun, some in the shade under trees or under umbrellas. She introduced me to a group of seven people near the shallow end of the pool, and I soon learned that the social connection was the tennis club. This was good news for me because now I knew we had something in common to talk about.

I appeared to be the only one dressed for swimming. The guys were in shorts, loafers, sandals, polo shirts and the women wore casual summer skirts and dresses. I felt a bit out of place but there I was. Anyway, they were so nice and I did want to meet new friends in my new town. I put down my bag and towel and sat in the one empty chair. Everyone was drinking so I accepted a glass of wine.

And right there was the beginning of my Opposite Day. I don't usually drink at all, and never more than one, and never before evening. Why did I accept this glass of wine? I don't know. But there I was, sipping Chardonnay in the afternoon. A nice guy started talking with me. Very pleasant, obviously bright, and he knew how to help a stranger feel comfortable. I started to relax as we talked and I sipped more wine. I admitted to him that I was a bit embarrassed that I had misunderstood this to be a pool party. I was the only one wearing a bathing suit. He assured me it was nothing to worry about.

It was a hot day. After talking about tennis for a while I told him I had always loved swimming too; I asked if he thought it would be OK if I hopped in the pool. Absolutely, he said. Surprised to see that my glass of wine had just a sip left, I quaffed the last bit before I got up.

This was not me! Here I was among people I had just met, drinking wine in the afternoon, the only one in a bathing suit, nonetheless taking off my cover-up in front of this man, in front of them all, and walking with my towel in hand for a dip. I was in my brand-new white bathing suit and had forgotten that white might become almost transparent when it gets wet. As if that wasn't enough, as I walked away I felt it creep up between my cheeks.

Well! Should I have tested this bathing suit before I wore it in public, especially among new acquaintances? Everyday me had neglected to do so and Opposite Day me didn't care! Somehow, today, those concerns seemed silly, and disappeared from my thoughts.

I stood at the shallow end where there were steps going down into the water. All around the deep end was a special ledge so you could sit comfortably in the water about up to your chest. I dropped my towel on the terrace, walked down the steps into the pool, and it happened again. I always did a dozen laps first thing whenever I got in a pool. Always. Except today. Opposite Day me pushed off from the last step and surfaced on my back. Just that, no laps, I just relaxed. What a delightful pool! Salt water made it so easy to float and the temperature was perfect. I floated around the deep end, eyes closed, enjoying this little bit of heaven in the sun-dappled shade, gently paddling and feeling the water slip through my fingers and toes.

After a few minutes, floating on my back, I opened my eyes. There, just arriving with a smile, was the nice guy I'd been talking to, in his madras shorts. He held a drink and a glass of wine. I smiled back and said hello, then turned over and swam a stroke and a half to sit on the ledge in the corner of the pool. I reached up for the glass of wine he was handing down to me. He grabbed a nearby chair and set it down close to the pool. "Do you mind if I sit here and chat?" he asked. This was so nice, so nice of him. I replied genuinely that I would be happy to have his company. I was liking this guy more and more. He really knew how to make someone feel welcome. He leaned forward in his chair toward me, holding his scotch with both hands, his elbows resting on his knees.

I thanked him for the wine and took a sip, then another. A perfect summer day, the sunshine streaming through the treetops... and suddenly everything glowed. His hair was a golden halo. He was talking but I didn't hear; now I noticed his muscular calves, nicely defined knees and athletic thighs disappearing into his shorts, just at eye level for me. As we talked I tried to keep my focus on his face which was just as compelling as his body. Fine features, laughing eyes, strong demeanor but not overly macho, nothing exaggerated, just refined and inviting. The more he spoke the more attractive he became. I liked him. I sat there on the little ledge in the corner of the pool, the water lapping my chest. Ordinarily I would have been relieved to be mostly covered by the water because it would have helped to hide what this wet bathing suit revealed.

But today was different; I didn't feel like hiding. I was aware, and he might have seen through the water and fabric that I was responding to him. My nipples were erect. I couldn't help it. My suit was modestly cut but that didn't help because there was no pattern on it to camouflage what was underneath. Rather than feeling embarrassed about my nipples' public display, it was stimulating.

This strange day! The wine made me feel good, and modesty was not my concern.

Soon, while we talked about mixed-doubles tennis, it was clear that his body and mine were having their own conversation. He shifted a bit in his chair, sat back, crossed his legs, uncrossed them, then shifted again. I knew exactly what was happening to him. The everyday me would have politely ignored this. But the Opposite Day me stopped watching his face, and for a long moment I stared at his lap, long enough so I knew he saw me staring, and then looked up into in his eyes and gave him a slight smile.

"Would you like to go re-join the others?" I asked a bit teasingly.

"Oh no no," he said, "no, not at all. I'm very happy here." He blushed and re-settled his elbows on his knees, legs spread, seemingly trying to position his hands on his drink in a way to block my view of the inside of his thigh. But he could not hide something looking out at me, trapped between his shorts and his thigh. I decided to do what I could to free him from the self-consciousness he clearly felt.

I pulled myself up out of the pool and sat on the terrace to face him. He scooted his chair back so there was room for my legs to stretch out. I leaned back on my arms, letting my breasts push forward. It was impossible for him not to see my alert nipples pushing against my clinging pale suit. I glanced down at myself and then back at him. "Oh, my," I confessed, "I think I'm enjoying your company. My body doesn't know her manners." And to take it one step further I let my knees fall open just enough for him to take a peek. He couldn't help glancing, and then he hesitated.

"Well, my buddy clearly has no manners either," he said in a good-humored way but I saw he was little nervous, worried that his comment had gone too far. He looked at me with eyebrows raised, his mouth in a half smile, his head slightly tilted, waiting for my reply. And I was ready to help him again.

"To hell with manners," I said. "Where we can go for a little privacy?" He let out his breath.

"Any minute now," he said, "they'll be going inside. I bet if we just wait here they won't notice if we join them a little bit late, and I've got an idea to save time. Would you like to get your towel and come back? I'd bring it for you but in this condition I'd better not stand up."

Throwing all modesty to the wind I stood and walked to the shallow end of the pool where I had left my towel near the cocktail group. As I approached they were getting up to move inside, gathering their drinks. The men fell silent when they saw me and couldn't stop themselves from staring. I smiled, bent down to grab my towel and walked away from them with the back of my bathing suit now securely tucked in between my cheeks.

They had all gone inside by the time I got back to my friend. He pulled me onto his lap. I sat in my wet bathing suit crossways in his lap, one arm casually wrapped around his shoulders, and wiggled my derriere to stimulate him. We both happily knew that soon enough we would be released from our tension. His eyes became devilishly gleeful. No more half smile. He broke into a full grin as I flicked my tongue at him and spread my legs apart a bit as I wiggled, so I could move more closely against him through my suit. I was getting wet in a different way.

"How about putting that big towel around your shoulders," he said.

As I stood up and arranged the towel around my neck, draping it down behind me like a long cape with the front open, he quickly unzipped his shorts, arched up a bit off the chair and let them fall. He sat down again and now I could see from the tip of his erection a little drip giving me a twinkling smile. I stepped close to him, pulled my bathing suit to the side between my legs, and spread-fingered my lips wide open so he could see me while I eagerly stared at his raging display of desire, his surprisingly substantial erection. I stood there another long moment so we could see what we were about to feel; then he pulled down the top of my bathing suit to greedily suck my breasts.

There was no time to linger. The longer we were absent from the group the more likely we'd be discovered. This made it dangerously exciting. I straddled him, rhythmically moving my hips to stimulate him even more as I watched him massage and suck my breasts; I wondered whether one of the guests might see us through the kitchen window and notice something going on behind the towel. I got wetter and breathed faster.

"Let's do it," I urged, almost unbearably aroused and needing release. I grasped his cock and looking into his eyes I gave him one, two, three long slow caressing strokes with my hand before easing myself down and around him, all of him, in one motion, all the way until my slick elastic skin stretched around his base and sealed him in tight. I was on, he was in. Time to begin. He brought his hands down to squeeze my hips and his thumbs stretched down my front tickling and stroking as he began to thrust up. I pumped forward and back, swinging my hips, raising myself up and down while my towel started to slide down my back--but I didn't care about the towel, carried away now by our urgent need for ecstatic surrender. I was desperate and he was desperate and we were both ready to explode, moving together.

He grabbed both my cheeks and pulled them up and apart as he rammed himself in harder, gasping. He was strong. My towel fell completely off now so anyone in the kitchen could see me from behind, see us pumping up and down, see him splitting me in half, see my tight quim swallowing his shaft again and again and again as his balls danced and...we came, together. We came hard, so hard, so good, so stripped down and raw there was no way I could stop now. And he so nicely obliged, kneading my breasts and kissing my neck as I kept moving, hugging him inside me for more orgasms, my hungry hips writhing, rotating, flexing, as I rubbed and squeezed and crushed myself against him to release another spasm, and another, and--barely--one more, and then we held each other tight in the warm golden afternoon sun.

Was that really me? What will I tell my friend? I don't know and don't care. I want another Opposite Day, the sooner the better.