On the Beach Ch. 10

I'd seen most of his body already. Around rental houses the uniform is usually a pair of swim trunks. His erection glows palely in the blue light of the pool. I can't say much about his cock. He's too far away. It looks to me like I've seen some that are bigger but more that are smaller. I don't see anything to disappoint.

Meg turns and jumps in the pool. She doesn't dive. She jumps. Ben jerks and turns and looks at my house. I remain still. He only glances for a second before turning away. I don't believe he saw me. If he had, he'd still be looking.

I hear his "sshh" as easily as I hear Meg's "relax".

Ben stands for a moment looking at his wife. The water breaks into flickering blue and white tiles as Meg swirls it with her hands. Ben has a thoroughly nice looking ass. He reaches down and rests one hand on the edge of the pool and hops in. He goes straight to Meg who jumps into his arms. I see her legs go around his waist and then their heads bend toward each other.

They kiss. His hands go around her waist and lifts her. One of her hands disappears between their bodies. He lowers her slowly. In my mind's eye I can see his cock disappear into her pussy. My own is flowing.

Their bodies move. The water becomes agitated. As the two of them begin to move toward the end of the pool, my fingers find my cunt. I rub them up and down my slit and feel my palm fill with fluid. My fingers began to dance over my throbbing clit.

Down in the pool, Ben and Meg near the stairs. Ben spares a hand for the railing as he begins to walk out of the pool, Meg wrapped around his waist. He reaches the top of stairs and sits her down. They stand close, kissing. Ben's arms urge his wife to turn. She does and leans over, resting her hands atop the railing. Ben is far enough behind her I can see his cock in the light of the pool before he moves closer.

Ben begins to move and Meg's sways over the railing. My fingers move faster.

Meg's face is turned toward the deck. She can't see me. It's impossible. Ben's face is turned upward. Impossible.

Hot fluid gushes over my hand as I cum.

"Jesus, fuck." It takes me a moment to realize I've spoken the words aloud.

Below me, Meg is adding her voice to the wind as Ben deposit his load on her back. I see his cum flash in the dim light before it is lost in the dark. I back away from the railing. I slide the door closed behind me. I fall asleep, the smell of my sex strong on my hand.

----

I wake to the sound of gentle raps against the glass patio door. I roll out of bed and push the hair away from my face. When I do, the smell on my fingers wakes the memory of last night. I look around for my house coat before remembering it lies in the laundry hamper down the hall. I walk around the bed and open the closet door. My hand is touching my bath robe before I stop.

It has to be Meg, or Ben. Who else would come through the backyard? I walk out of my bedroom naked. It's Meg. If she's surprised by my nudity she hides it well.

"It's open. Come on in," I call to her as I head toward the kitchen. I still use my old percolator. I set it up every morning after I clean it so it's ready for the next day. I like my coffee with a minimum of fuss in the morning. All I want to do is plug it in. I like the sound it makes. I don't like the hissing, dripping sound of those Mr. Coffee's and what-nots.

"Morning, Muriel."

"Meg," I yawn. "What time is it?"

"Almost 7:30," she chirps and I hate her perkiness, just a little bit, but it's there.

"What the hell, Meg? You got cows to milk or something? I gave up getting up early with everything else when I left the farm. Lord."

"You were watching last night weren't you? I don't know if Ben heard you but I did. You were watching."

"You didn't seem to be trying very hard to be quiet."

She giggles and I smile.

"Ben hasn't made love to me like that for years. I should be mad that he was probably thinking about you but at least he fucked me like he wanted to for a change."

"Meg," I say shaking my head. "Ben is nuts about you. He's not interested in fucking anyone but you."

"Bullshit," Meg snaps back. "He's a man. All men think about fucking someone beside their wives. It's the way they're built." She's quiet. The burble of the percolator fills the silence. "I don't think he's every cheated on me. On occasion he'll be out longer than usual, or home later than usual, and I'll wonder." She shakes her head. "I wonder but in the end I decide I'm being silly. What I'm not being silly about is he's not been as interested. Not since Bill came along and certainly not since Jill. I don't know how that happened. I was on the pill. I think maybe he imagines I got pregnant on purpose or something."

The coffee is ready. I pour her a cup, black and set it in front of her.

"Thanks," she whispers.

"You like French toast?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah but don't go to the trouble."

"No trouble. It's as easy to make it for two as it is for one. I got some bread that's getting a little stale and need to use it up."

She doesn't say anything as I make the French toast. She sips her coffee. I know she's lost in her own thoughts. I don't know her well, not really, but I know her well enough to know if she wasn't thinking hard on something she'd have offered to help.

I set the syrup in a bowl of hot water to warm and start grilling. The smell rouses her.

"Muriel, I'm so sorry. What can I do to help?"

"Don't be silly. You can grab a couple plates and refill our cups if you want. Shall we eat outside?"

"That would be nice."

It is nice. The sky is clear and it's that moment in the day when it's not chilly but not yet hot. We eat quietly. I'm mulling Meg's words in my mind. Woman are usually right when they think their man is cheating on them. Ben's doesn't seem the type but then again, what is the type?

"I want to give you a massage."

Meg's voice startles me.

"What?"

"I know you can get one at any of your spas better than mine but I want to return the favor."

"Sweetie, you don't need to do that. I have a better idea. You trust me?"

"Yeah, I do," Meg says with wonder. "For someone I told myself I hated, I trust you." She takes my hand. "I'm so sorry about that. I was so sure..."

"Sweetie, hush about that. It's not important anymore. Go take a shower and meet me back here in a half an hour."

"Can we take one together?"

I stare at her, surprised again. She's smiling but I can't tell if she is joking or not.

"My shower is pretty small. Meet me here in a half an hour."

Her smiles dims but doesn't fade entirely. As she turns away I enjoy watching the way her butt moves. I already regret my decision. I start working on plan B.

------

"All of it? Oh, Muriel, I don't know. Are you sure?"

I turn to Steph. "Steph, honey, give me a minute with Meg would you, sweetie?"

"Oh course, Ms. Dyer."

As soon as the door closes, I turn back to Meg and open my robe. "Take a look yourself. No, you don't have to have it all taken off. You can do a little or a lot. It's about what you want." I look down at myself. "Keep in mind, I need a touch up myself. The problem with waxing is you need to have hair long enough for the wax to work."

Meg steps closer and bends slightly, looking at my pussy. I feel a familiar tingle beginning between my legs. My hands tremble, longing to grab her hair and pull her face to my pussy.

"Does it hurt?" she asks as she straightens.

"Some. Nothing you can't handle. Hell, you've had three kids."

"Can you do it for me?"

"Hon, I love to but I've stuck to massage. Steph's the best on the Outer Bank." Uncertainty shines in her eyes. I put my hand on her wrist, my robe still open. "You watch Steph wax me, then you decide what you want to do." I hug her, letting my naked breasts brush against her robe. "And remember," I remind her as I step away, "you don't have to do anything."

"Okay."

I bundle my robe close with one hand and open the door. Stephanie is standing a discrete distance away. I smile at her and she comes.

"Steph, would you mind if my friend Meg watches while you wax me? She's not sure she wants to do this. I understand it's an unusual request and if you don't feel right about it, say so. I won't think less of you for speaking your mind. You know that, right?"

"Yes, Ms. Dyer," she replies in an even tone. "It's your body, ma'am. If you don't mind I don't see why I should."

I pat her on the arm. "Thank you, Steph." I let my robe fall off my shoulders. Steph takes it and hangs it on one of the fabric wrapped hangers on the tastefully modern rack near the door. While she does that I sit down on the table and lie back.

"Meg, for now why don't you stand over here on my left."

She does as I suggest. Steph positions my right leg, reminds me to tell her if the wax is too hot and away we go. I chat with Meg, trying to make it clear the pain is minimal, but she ignores me. Her eyes follow every movement of Steph's hands. I feel my pussy getting wetter and wetter. I wonder what Steph makes of that. I always get a little wet. I can't help it. Touch my pussy or the inside of my leg and voila. Today, I'm not a little wet, no honey, I'm a lot wet. I can feel it running down my slit and soaking into the towel under my butt.

I try to catch Steph's eye but she's a pro. She focuses on her work and ignores the rest. She says a few words to Meg about what she's doing. Meg nods but is quiet as a church mouse. It occurs to me that I'm talking too much and shut my yapper and relax. What will be, will be.

Steph finishes the front and as far back as she can reach. She peers at my cunt through her lighted magnifying glass and rids me of any strays. She wipes away the wax and applies lotion.

"Okay, boss, you know the position," Steph tells me as she snaps off the light and moves it out of the way.

Meg looks confused as I roll over and rest on my elbows and knees.

"Meg, don't you dare snicker. If you can think of an easier way for Steph to get to my rear end you tell me, otherwise, not a peep."

"She does your rear end?"

"It's all got to go darling, else it ain't a Brazilian. Men call it the 'back, crack, and sack' wax."

"Men do this?" Meg's voice is horrified.

"Sure do, some anyway." I look at her over my shoulder. "You thinking about getting Ben down here?"

She gapes in shock and I laugh. "One step at a time, honey, don't fret it."

I let my head hang between my arms. When Steph gently spreads my cheeks, I can feel how wet they are. I resist the urge to giggle at the image my bare ass, pussy-slicked asshole and hanging boobs must present to the world. I wonder what Steph would do if I ask her to finger fuck my ass while I get myself off. I'd never do that. I do not mix business and pleasure. I hadn't been tossing off idle compliments early. Stephanie is the best waxer on the Outer Banks. She's hot as August asphalt but I'd not risk hurting my business for a piece of ass, not even one as scrumptious as I imagine hers to be.

I shiver, I can't help it, when the warm wax touches my asshole. There's the pressure of her fingers and then the sudden zing when she pulls the cloth, the wax, and the hair away. I swear I hear the sound before I feel the pain. It doesn't take long before she's finished.

I face Meg, a flush faced Meg, as Steph eases my robe back on.

"So, what do you think? Ready to give it a try?"

Meg hesitates and then abruptly nods her head yes.

"Let's do it."

"Atta girl, Meg." I turn to Steph. "Honey, I know you're booked today. Let me get Meg ready for you. That'll save you a little time won't it?"

"Sure, Mrs. Dyer. You remember the settings? Not to close?"

I give the girl a hug. "Don't worry about a thing. Give us," I shrug my shoulders, "20-25 minutes. Will that give you enough time to get your next client done."

"It's only eyebrows. Twenty-five minutes is plenty. I had a cancelation earlier. I'll be fine."

"Of that I have no doubts, hon. Twenty-five minutes then."

Steph leaves the room and shuts the door gently.

I haven't belted my robe. It hangs open as I hold out my hand. "I'll hang that up for you, Meg."

She only hesitates a moment before shrugging out of the robe and handing it to me. Lord, she's got a nice body. As I hang up the robe, Meg climbs up on the table. Steph had changed the linen while we had chatted.

"You want a sheet for your top? You cold?"

She shakes her head. My eyes dart over Stephanie's work station and I spot her clippers. They're small, almost dainty. I check to be sure the right guard is in place and turn to Meg.

"You don't want the hair too long anymore than you want it too short. I'm going to trim your hair to get you ready for the wax. Are we doing the works, sweetie, or just a little touch up?"

"The works."

"Alright then." I let my hand rest on one knee. "Let your leg fall outward."

As she does, I wonder for the thousandth time if there is any way to make a doctor's exam table with its stirrups look inviting. Probably not, but it'd be a damn sight more convenient. Meg jumps a little when I click the trimmer on.

"This will tickle a little but I promise I won't hurt you. If I do, dinner is on me."

"I thought dinner was already on you?"

"Hush. You a lawyer and a momma?"

I start at the top, trimming and then brushing the small clumps of hair away. I don't need to do the inside of her legs. She'd shaved there already. I wonder how well the wax will work there. As I very carefully trim the hair from her pussy lips, I see that she is wet, not as wet as I am but wet enough. I take great care around her clit. I'm finished but I turn the clipper over, blade up, and touch the back of it to her clit. In this position it's nothing more than a vibrator.

She gasps.

"I told you it tickles."

"Uh-huh," my new friend gasps.

"Should I stop?"

"God, no, please don't."

I move the buzzing little beast over her nub and she begins to squirm. I want to put in inside her but that's impossible. One, it's not really a vibrator, one side of it has a cutting blade. Two, it's Stephanie's. The head is disposable but not the handle. I'm not sure she wants her tool used as a dildo.

Her pussy is really wet now. I switch hands, reaching above and around her right knee to hold the clipper with my left hand. The fingers of my right hand touch her pussy lips. I stroke. She sighs. I probe. She nods. I put two fingers inside her pussy and begin to massage the front of her pussy. Her pussy clenches around my fingers. She begins to bounce her butt up and down. She puts the side of her left hand in her mouth and cums without a sound.

I ease my fingers out. I would lick them but there are small hairs stuck to them. I wipe them on the towel beneath her butt. I remove the used head from the clipper, toss it and lay the clippers down. I use a small towel to clean all the hair I can off her pussy and thighs. I motion for her to stand, toss the sheet and towel into the hamper, and re-drape the table. She stands, watching, clutching her arms across her chest.

My robe is still open. She's naked. When I open my arms she comes to me. Her kisses taste as sweet as she looks.

There's a knock at the door. I pull away, brush her hair back and call over my shoulder, "One minute, Steph, almost ready for you."

I help Meg to the table, drape a sheet over her body, and bend for a quick kiss before I open the door and let Steph in. The smell of pussy has to be strong but she doesn't say a word.

---

I hold Meg's hand the whole time. She does fine. She jumps at first, when the cloth is pulled away, but then settles down. My eyes switch back and forth, from the taut nipples, easily seen under the thin sheet, to her pussy. By the time Steph gets her in position for the crack wax, Meg's cunt is as wet as mine.

While she dresses, I slip the hundred dollar bill I'd secreted in the pocket of my robe to Stephanie. She starts to protest but I stop her with a quick kiss on the cheek and a squeeze of her upper arm.

"Nope, no refusals. Take it. It's the least I could do for your patience and willingness to help me out."

She hugs me, harder than I expected. Hmm? She gives me a quick peek on the cheek and is gone.

I dress quickly.

"You hungry? That French toast was hours ago."

"Only if you let me pay."

I start to protest but Meg cuts me off.

"Then, we go home. You took care of this. You saved us money last night on the wine."

"Fair enough, I'd be honored."

I take her to a small sandwich shop far enough from the beach that it's not inundated with tourists. They have the best chicken salad and bake their own bread. We split a sandwich and each have a beer.

Back home, Ben's car is gone.

"I wonder where he's run off too?" Meg asks, more to herself than me.

I turn toward my house but Meg tugs on my hand.

"Come on. Let's have another beer."

I nod and follow her. She opens me a beer. We forgo glasses and go out onto the deck. It's hot. Without thinking about it too much, I slip my clothes off and sit with my legs curled up on one of the lounge chairs in the shade. Meg does the same.

I don't try to hide my stares.

"Do you always get wet like that? When you get waxed I mean."

I take a drink of beer. "I know what you meant. No, not like that. I get a little wet anytime someone touches my cunt but not like today."

I see her flinch at the word. That's a silly thing to do over a word. I don't use it as an insult. I love cunts.

"Why did you get so wet today then?"

"Because," I tell her, looking her straight in the eye, "you were looking at my cunt. You made me wet."

"Really?"

"Yes, Meg. Really."

"Wow."

"Why 'wow'? You're a beautiful woman. Why wouldn't I get wet?"

"I didn't know you were a lesbian, that's all."

"I'm not. I'm bi. I love sex with men and I love sex with women. Not that lesbians wouldn't get in knife fights over those gorgeous tits of yours."

Her blush makes her more beautiful.

"My turn. Why did you get so wet?"

Meg snorts. "Gee, I don't know. You think you finger fucking me had anything to do with it?"

I shrug and drain my beer. I stand up and offer her my hand. She takes it.

"Come on," I whisper. She doesn't resist.

I know this house as well as she does. I know the master has a two-headed shower. I'd had it re-modeled myself. We won't need both shower heads but the extra room will be nice.

She lets me adjust the water. I walk her backwards under the spray. She tilts her head back, wetting her hair, water flows over her face. I put my hands behind her head and tilt her face toward me as I step into her arms. Our breasts press together as our mouths search for each other.

Women kiss different than men. I don't know why or even how, not completely. I know I kiss a woman different than I kiss a man. I guess I'll leave it at that.

I taste beer on Meg's tongue. I nip at it and her lower lip and her hands tighten on my waist. She pushes her tongue forward and I let her into my mouth, my fingers massaging her neck.

She pulls her mouth from mine. Her lips find a nipple. Women also treat each other's breasts different than men. In my experience, women, surprisingly, are a little more aggressive. I've always assumed it's because we have a better idea of how much tugging and nipping a nipple can take. Or maybe I gravitate to aggressive women. Or maybe I'm full of shit. At the moment I don't care. Meg is doing marvelous little tricks with her mouth and tongue.

She rolls her tongue around my nipple as if she were cleaning off the drippy ice cream cone. I've never had children. I've never lactated. As she laps at my nipple I have a vision of Ben doing this to her as Meg's milk leaks over his face and tongue.