Roy's Conquests: Courtney

Courtney blushed, trying to come up with an excuse. "I don't know if that's—"

"Nonsense. It's too beautiful of a day to be a wall flower." I untied and discarded my 'Kiss the Cook' apron, and tossed it over a nearby lawn chair.

"Maybe later—" she continued to protest, but when I stepped around the grill, she cut herself off. The color came to her face ten-fold and she gasped.

I'm not a man who dresses modestly. Today was no exception. I was bare-chested. My hairless muscles tanned from the sun I soaked up. My pecks and arms rivaled any body builder. But that's not what drew her attention. I was wearing my blue swim suit— a Speedo. Most men frown upon such a choice in swim wear— with good reason. I'm exactly that guy who married men hate in such attire. Because coiled up in that bathing suit is my most prized possession. It was sound asleep... for now.

A second later, and Steve took notice too. His eyes also widened. Courtney averted her eyes after a second, but the cute redness remained. Steve knew that I saw them both look. Busted. He laughed, a bit uncomfortably. "There's one at every party." He commented. Courtney lightly smacked him with the back of her hand, in an attempt to shush him. "I don't blame you for showing off," Steve continued lightly. "To quote Ron White: 'If it was mine, I'd be holding a picture frame around it'."

"Steve," Courtney shot him a look. But I could tell that she was peeking at my manhood from the corner of her eye. Her tentative curiosity was really driving me wild.

I can only imagine what they thought of me— clean and groomed, in shape to an insane degree, and a crotch that was literally bursting at the seams to contain the slumbering anaconda in my Speedo. Combine that with an immaculate house and perfectly manicured yard. They might even assume I was into men. They would be wrong, but I wouldn't have discouraged that assumption— if it put Steve at ease when I'm around his lovely wife.

"Lets get you folks some drinks," I clapped my meaty hands together, and draped my heavy arms over each of their shoulders, steering them toward the house. They came willingly, though I could sense the nervous tension in Courtney now. She no longer saw me as the harmless old man. That was a good thing because now she was seeing me as a sexual object.

"So how do you know everyone?" Courtney asked. There was a tremble to her soft voice, and I could tell she was eager to take her mind off of my practically naked body.

"No idea. I just woke up this morning and these freeloaders were using my pool and drinking my beer. So I just figured 'what the hell? I'll join them.'" I laughed.

"Sounds like a good time," Steve said.

"Very funny, Roy," Courtney snickered.

I shrugged. "Let's just say, we're all sort of a singles group in our own way. And we'll leave it at that. In fact, the two of you are pretty much the only ones in the neighborhood who aren't divorced."

"Yet," Steve teased.

"Is there something in the water?" Courtney asked.

"No, nothing like that," I responded. "We're just a group who enjoys the benefits of being single and free."

"Here here," Steve declared.

Courtney shot him a scolding look as I guided them into the house. My arm stayed across Courtney's back, even as Steve whistled and inspected the kitchen. He didn't have a reason to feel threatened that I kept my arm on his wife's back, right in front of him, and she was too shy and polite to shrug me off. Deep down, I think we all instinctively knew our places, though years of evolution buried those thoughts of alphas, betas, and the spoils beneath mountains of consciousness.

The kitchen, like everything else, was spotless. The table and counters featured rows of food, dips, chips, and things to munch on.

"So you're not married?" Courtney asked.

"Divorced about ten years ago."

"Aw, I'm sorry," she said sympathetically.

"Don't be sorry," I bent over and rummaged through the refrigerator, coming up with a cold beer for a Steve and a wine cooler for Courtney. I leaned my butt casually against the counter and let my muscles naturally flex. I caught Courtney looking while appearing not to look. "We had... different priorities. See, I'm very open and like to share things with a lot of people. Especially when other people share things with me... and she wasn't as okay with that." I grinned, not taking my eyes off of Courtney. She looked uncertain, glancing away. I chased her with my eyes.

With my point made, I dialed it back a bit— asking a few questions about their marriage, how they met, how long they were together. When Courtney told me they were coming up on their six month wedding anniversary, I felt my cock throb, straining the tight fabric of my Speedo. Knowing that they were still in the honeymoon phase only made this that much more exciting for me. Steve's parents had money and got him a good job in IT, so their wedding loans were paid off. Courtney worked at the local high school as a library assistant. That explained a lot about her modest personality.

I gave Courtney my undivided attention while keeping a watchful eye on our alcohol consumption throughout the conversation. By the time she was halfway through her second drink, it was time to give these youngsters a little nudge.

"Are we going swimming, or what?" I asked.

"I'm game!" Steve was eager.

"That's what I like to hear." I clapped him on the back and threw a questioning look to Courtney. She sighed, but the alcohol had loosened her up a little.

"Okay, fine." She said, but then held up her finger. "But only if you have a bathing suit I can borrow. I'm not going in naked!"

Steve and I laughed. "No, no, of course not. I have a perfect string bikini and thong combo for you." I joked.

"Yeah! Just slut her up a little!" Steve declared.

"Steve!" She blushed.

"I'll do my best," I winked and asked him to check the grill before he cannon balls into the pool. Then I took Courtney by the hand and led her down the hall. I let my fingers trail softly over her knuckles.

Along the way, one of my many "friends" emerged from the bathroom. She looked sultry in her bikini, pearls, and heels, even for a forty-five year old. She gave me a smile as we passed, letting her eyes linger. "Caught another one, did you?" She clucked her tongue and gave a slow shake of her head. Her voice was dripping with sexual desire. Then she inspected Courtney. "She's cute. Must be her first time. You're in for a treat, honey. Trust me." She gave Courtney a wink, and reached her hand down and gave the bulge in my Speedo a playful squeeze.

Courtney's eyes widened. She stiffened a bit. "It's not like that. Just giving her a quick tour." I replied with an easy smile and a laugh.

"Don't be too quick about it." She leaned in and gave me a gentle peck on the lips, eyeing up the young housewife by my side as she did so. When she pulled away, she commented "I better get back to my husband before he starts doing cannonballs." She laughed and sauntered away, popping her hips a bit for my attention as she went.

Courtney looked stunned. Her expression full of questions.

I only smiled. "I'm sorry that you had to see that. We share a lot of things at these parties."

Her eyes darted from the departing woman and back to me. She legitimately wasn't sure what that meant.

Her innocence drove me nuts. I wanted her right then, but this was about the long game. "Courtney, in case there's any question in your mind, I'm a swinger." I said proudly.

"A swinger?" She blinked, digesting it. "Like from the 70's?"

"I like to think I'm not that archaic. I enjoy sex with different partners. Including the married ones." I deliberately let the silence linger.

"The married ones?" She was shocked. "What about their husbands?"

"Sometimes they know and they're completely okay with it, and everyone has a good time."

"Sometimes?"

I shrugged modestly, "Sometimes, what they don't know won't hurt them."

Her face was a mask of different thoughts and emotions. Of course she was familiar with the concept of swinging, but by the look on her face, it seemed foreign— impossible to ever know someone who actively engaged in such acts. The kind of thing that over the top fictional adult movies were made of. For the briefest moment, I saw her eyes drop to my perfectly chiseled body, and the enormous bulge, neatly packaged up in my swim suit.

"Is it starting to make more sense now?" I stepped closer to Courtney. She froze like a deer in headlights as I came dangerously close to leaning in. I knew that look. She legitimately thought I was going to kiss her, or make a move. I reached my hand up behind her, my movements deliberately slow. I let the heavy bulge press against her hip. Then I snapped off the light in the bathroom that my guest had left on.

"Some people have no concept of the electricity that they waste," I smiled at her, and turned away, continuing on. Her posture became relaxed again, but her expression remained bewildered.

"I apologize if that's a lot to digest right away," I explained as I walked with her. "I know we just met. But I figured I'd let you know, to save you the speculation. We're going to be sharing a property line. You might see a lot of different women coming and going. You might notice a party or two going on in the back yard— one that you weren't invited to. And if that's the case, I don't want you to be offended."

This seemed to ease the tension. She let out a nervous laugh. "Well I'm glad you told me. I'll shut the blinds and keep Steve away from the windows."

"I thought I'd save you the trouble of speculating with your husband what my deal is. Now you can both stop wondering about me."

Courtney considered this. "If it's all the same to you, I don't think I'm going to mention this to my husband."

"Oh?"

"It's not our business anyway," she admitted. "But I don't want him freaking out. He'll either get giggly and start trying to peep over the fence like he's five, or he'll freak out and try to lock me away from you. Neither one will be good."

"Our little secret then. He sounds like a smart man. We put on quite the show. And if you ever felt compelled to join us... well... I think there'd be some fist fights over who got you."

Her face turned bright red and she averted her eyes, although I noticed the curious way she stole another glance at my crotch. Despite her expression, a very flattered smile lingered. "Shut up," she said and gave me a little shove.

"I'm serious. I'd have to kick everyone out of my house so I could get you all to myself," I responded, keeping my voice an ambiguous tone of teasing. It could have been a harmless comment from a flirtatious old man... or it could have been an invitation.

She finally managed control her blushing as we reached the stairs. "You have a really nice home," she admired as we went.

"I run a tight ship," I replied as I took her upstairs to the bedroom.

We paused outside of the master. She looked a little worried to be venturing in.

I couldn't resist laughing. "Is this how it's always going to be now? I confided something about myself, and now my bedroom is the lion's den?"

"It might very well be," she joked back.

I brushed past her. "I only play with those who consent. If you're not, then you have nothing to fear." I smiled.

"I suppose you're right." She followed me in and took in my bedroom with a shake of her head. She couldn't resist laughing.

"What?" I asked.

"I feel like I stepped into Austin Powers' bedroom," her girlish giggle turned into full blown laughter.

"Groovy baby," I replied. I knew what she meant. My bedroom looks as you'd expect from a womanizing manwhore. It was painted shades of striking dark gray. The furniture was stylish, done in shades of bold colors. My bed spread was tiger-print (a joke gift from one of my friends). The lighting was low and moody. And yes, I had some shelves of lotions and sex toys. Most of it was for conversation pieces— to get whatever guest I was entertaining to reveal what she was into.

"What is that for?" She asked, pointing to the video camera on a tripod in the corner of the room.

I smiled. "Well it's not for documenting a video blog, if that's what you're asking."

She reddened. I was very unabashed about my lifestyle. A complete open book— unashamed and vocal. I don't think she was prepared for someone to be so conversational about their sexual activities.

She glanced out the bedroom window. It overlooked her back yard and the window of her bedroom. "Oh gosh, I suppose I should invest in some good window shades after all."

"I agree," I replied. "All it takes is for you to get careless once after a shower, and they'll have to cart me out after you give me a heart attack."

I was rewarded again with another blush. "Hush, you." She said modestly.

I rummaged through a few drawers until I was able to produce a bathing suit for her. It was a black one-piece. "This is the most modest I can offer you. It's brand new. So you don't have to worry about who it might have belonged to." It still had the tags and I explained I kept a few on hand for guests who were shy.

Courtney was relieved that it really wasn't something slutty or titillating. That wasn't her style. ...baby steps...

"You can change in here," I told her. "I better get back to the grill. There's towels in the bathroom closet."

She pointed to the camera. "That better not be on," she joked.

"You'll just have to trust me," I replied playfully.

Courtney smiled, and collected one of the throw blankets from the end of the bed, and tossed it over the camera.

"I don't," she laughed lightly.

I looked her dead in the eyes. My smile not faltering but becoming completely serious. "A stunner like you... you shouldn't." And I turned and left her to her privacy.

I returned to the grill, confident that I'd planted the seed of her curiosity. Now it just needed time to grow. I don't want to get ahead of myself, or the story, but I later found out what Courtney did while she had free roam of my bedroom (she admitted it).

Alone, curiosity did get the best of her. She wandered from the window to the shelf of sex toys. Courtney examined them, wondering just what kind of man I am. The notion that I have sex with multiple different partners was foreign to her. She had been with Steve since high school, and though he had many personality quirks that she found childish, she had never entertained the idea of exploring other possibilities. For her to have sex with someone else, she and Steve would need to break up. And since they never broke up, Steve was the only man she'd go to bed with. She always assumed that people who had multiple partners— especially married ones— were shameful and stayed hidden. I, on the other hand, was so open and proud of it. There was a bold confidence to the way I spoke of it, like not only was I proud, but it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Maybe for you," she muttered to the shelf full of lotions, oils, and 'massagers'. She walked over to the drawers, knowing it was wrong, but with a trembling hand, she cracked the top drawer. Clothing, nothing more sinister. But a few drawers down, she found a collection of more sex toys. Handcuffs, dildos— large and small and of different colors, blindfolds, and even a riding crop. She gasped and quickly shut it. Her face was red. When she slowed her pounding heart, she let out a little laugh. "Creepy old man." She commented.

On top of the dresser, she spied a box of condoms. Magnum XL. "Of course you would be, Roy." She laughed a little easier, thinking of the bulge in my Speedo. It was difficult for her to admit out loud, but she wasn't used to a man with a body like mine. Steve had always been naturally pale and never in shape. Even in high school, he'd been a bit husky. There was no trace of muscle definition to him. "I'll take Steve's head on Roy's body," she joked to herself, finally comfortable enough to slip the straps from her dress and let it flutter to the floor. "Okay... maybe Zac Efron's head on Roy's body... with Steve's name," she giggled guiltily, her face flushing bright red. The alcohol had given her a pleasant flutter.

Although the thought of my cock both frightened and intrigued her. The bulge alone told a tale of a man who, even soft, was bigger than her husband hard. She knew it was wrong to have those thoughts— to compare a stranger to the man she loved. She should be happy with what Steve had. Everyone was different, and though her husband lacked in some departments, he fit her better in others... right?

But as she began to unhook her bra, she idly wondered if that was really the case. Or had she just played it safe and hopped on the first ship that looked comfortable enough? It was possible the ship wasn't sailing to where she wanted to go. She glanced at my bed, wondering how many women slept in it. I had been so casual about it, but so openly flirtatious that I found her attractive. She wondered if I'd really meant it. Did I really think she was hot? Would I really indulge her if she wanted to experiment outside of her marriage? She glanced down at her full breasts as her bra fell free. Though she never thought highly of herself, she knew that Steve loved her body... and she'd caught me looking too. Maybe it was expected... I was a creepy old man. Maybe I was just being flirty because that was my way. I could have any woman that I wanted— as evident by my lifestyle. But with that said, she was sure I'd be discreet and not tell a soul, even if she got carried away and immediately regretted it...

"Stop it," she told herself. "He's old enough to be your father." But as she peeled her panties down, she found that they were wet. She blushed, seeing first hand that she had been aroused. She thought again of my six pack abs and bulging Speedo. "Okay, he's definitely not build like your father." She forgave herself for the arousal.

Nude, standing in my bedroom, she reached for the swim suit, and found her eyes coming to rest on my video camera. She cocked her head, wondering what it would be like... being video taped. She plucked away the blanket that she'd draped over it. She didn't know much about photography, but saw that the light wasn't on. It was powered off. She glanced at the camera and bit her lip. "You like that?" She said in a mock sexy voice, putting her hand to her hip and giving a sexy spin. She faced her back to the camera and peered at it over her shoulder, flashing a coy smile.

She giggled to herself. For one crazy moment, she had the impulse to power it up and take a short video. She was positive I wouldn't mind (and I certainly wouldn't). And she knew that if she did, it would be a secret kept between us. But that would be crazy.

She finished putting the suit on, collected her towel, and hurried from the room.

Although it wasn't one of the wilder suits I could have offered her, she definitely turned some heads when she joined us on the patio. Her big round tits filled it out well, and gave me a much better sense of what I was working with. It was the type of suit that was slit down the middle to her naval. Her cleavage was ample and each breast threatened to make its appearance if she turned or bent wrong. Her stomach wasn't washboard, but it was pleasant, and her butt was more impressive than those frumpy mom-shorts were willing to reveal. And God Almighty, did she have legs.

She sensed the looks she was getting, especially from me behind the grill. "Close your jaw, you old pervert," she joked quietly as she passed me, heading for the pool. I was able to appreciate that she was comfortable (or buzzed) enough around me to shake off some of her initial bashfulness and make such remarks.

I shrugged. "Just memorizing this image, because I'm guessing your normal swim suit will look like a turn of the century 'bathing costume'."