Shannon's Match

On Saturday morning, the family went to our daughter's soccer match, and Charlie was one of her biggest fans, cheering her on. Her team won, 3-2, and she was all smiles on the way home. We dropped them off at the house and Charlie and I headed to the range for some target practice. We'd barely pulled out of the driveway when he started.

"Oh, Chris, Gwenifer is tight, I tell you—"

"No, Charlie!" I said, interrupting him. "Don't start! I don't need to hear this."

"No, man, not like that! She's tight like fit, great musculature. She runs and does yoga and does those Kegel things."

"Maybe six seconds and you're right back to where I told you to stop," I complained.

"Sorry, but she deserves high praise, little brother. She's gorgeous, like I told you. Thirty-eight, I think she said, with a tight little pussy to die—"

I tried to tune him out for the rest of the trip, not needing, or wanting, to know the details of their sexual tryst, nor those on their second session. Despite his comment of the earlier afternoon, that great sense of foreboding, of how he was going to screw Miz Busybody and screw me over was always at the forefront, overshadowing any possible titillation I might have gotten from his tale if I'd wanted to hear it in the first place.

Fortunately, he had to shut up when we reached the range and got our lane, and, after that, I had my hearing protection on.

We had a great shoot that afternoon. After checking out each weapon and taking a couple of shots to refamiliarize himself with their sights, Charlie was pretty much consistently a better shot than me, usually beating me by one to five target points over ten rounds. However, that changed with my P365. It was a little small in his big hands, so I beat him by three ring points over ten rounds each with that, leading him to grumble a bit about that "damn little gun." I heard that even with my ears on; smiling, I marked and kept those two targets for my collection. It wasn't enough, though, and I handed him his twenty back as we walked out to the car.

Fortunately, as we made our way back home, our conversation turned to things not involving women and sex, and we Jones brothers had a great time, just like old times.

***

Charlie left early on Saturday evening to go pick up Arabella Bustamonte. She lived near the front of the subdivision just down from the clubhouse and pool, so they were going to walk, but he took my car to save the long walk from our house near the rear.

Shannon dressed in a new green bikini that practically matched her eyes and really set off her hair. It was very flattering while providing good coverage. She topped it with a short, off-white cover-up that showed enough but not too much once she felt she'd had enough.

"You going to wear these green high heels with that?" I dangled them in front of me, hanging from a finger by the strap.

"I'm dressing for a pool party, not a porno," she replied.

"I don't know, I think these would look awfully good."

Seeing I was teasing, she chucked and told me to put them back in the closet. Instead, she wore a sensible pair of light green flip flops I didn't even know she had.

"Six ninety-nine at Fran's Fashions," she said as she slipped her feet into them. "End of summer sale, half off."

I stepped up behind her and slipped my arms around her. "I'm looking forward to getting you home later and getting this all off." I nuzzled her neck appreciatively but my eyes widened when her hand landed on the front of my trunks.

"That goes both ways, Mister. Now, put on that shirt and let's go."

***

It looked as if most of the neighborhood showed up for the end-of-summer pool party on Saturday night. The parking lot was full and cars were parked on the side of the street for three blocks on the main drive. We parked on a side street to save a bit of walking on the hot September night but it wasn't much since a number of others had the same idea.

After checking in with the catering service that was handling the party in the clubhouse, we walked through and exited onto the pool deck.

It was almost like stepping onto a clothing-optional beach.

While some of the older ladies wore modest one-piece bathing suits, there was skin, lots and lots of skin, with many of the women wearing string bikinis, thongs, and tiny little g-strings. Some were even wearing just the strings. My eyes bugged out on seeing some; each of Mrs. Detmer's ample breasts were framed by three little strings forming a triangle with her nipple in the center and a large pink circle surrounding it all like a halo. My eyes widened at the sight, but then I saw her bikini bottom, more similar to the top than I believed possible short of a nudist resort. Shannon poked me when my glance threatened to become a stare.

"TeenyWeenySeeThroughBikini.com had some new models," whispered Shannon. "I'm talking about models of bikinis, on sale, though, I suspect, they may have some new models modeling their new bikinis after this, too. Remember, look, don't stare."

Several women wore tiny little cloth triangles just covering their areolas—or at least most of them—but with sheer fabric allowing them to shine through in all their glory. Some of them had their pussy covered similarly, though at least one woman, Brenda Kenwood, was wearing a pretty, multi-colored band around her waist with a single strand of pearls running under, disappearing into her puffy lips and only emerging near the top of her ass crack. Shannon punched me as I studied that one in a bit too much detail.

Most of the guys wore swim trunks, but some wore Speedos again this year, and a few must have purchased their get-up from whatever the male counterpart of TeenyWeenySeeThroughBikini.com is. I felt like I needed to bleach my eyes after accidentally getting too much of a view of one of those.

Food and drinks were being served and people were mingling and talking, though a lot of guys seemed to be having particular issues with focusing above chest level.

"Hey, Chris, you sure you and Shannon don't want to come over after the party's over?" whispered Pete Edwards. "Patsy would make it well worth your while and I'd make sure Shannon wasn't left lacking either. We can take turns with the other couples, too, if you'd like."

I restrained my urge to take a swing at him. "Thanks, Pete, I'd say it's tempting, but it's not. When you have the best," I whispered, nodding toward Shannon, "why settle for second rate?"

His eyes darkened when my insult made it through his beer and I was ready for him to take the swing at me instead, but Shannon waved to me so I headed her way, not bothering to tell him goodbye. I chuckled as I thought of the headline I almost hoped would appear in the newspaper in coming days: "Local Subdivision Experiences Curious VD Epidemic After Summer Pool Party."

Then I saw them, Arabella and Charlie, arm-in-arm. She was smiling at him, he was sneaking smiles back at her, and they looked like they were practically newlyweds. Arabella, with her full-body tan, was dressed somewhat similarly to Shannon, with a fairly conservative yellow bikini outfit under a sheer white cover-up. The big difference was that she was wearing white high heels. While I'm not a fan of Miz Busty, I'd be among the first to admit she looked as sexy as hell in it.

Shannon and I joined them and found an empty table set up on the pool deck where we had a seat and drank our individual selections from the bar. The DJ turned the music up a bit about that time as the dance area lights started flashing, so we sat back and relaxed for a few moments before the first few couples took to the dance floor.

"Shan, may I have this dance, my love?'

She grinned at me and we made our way out to the dance floor for a couple of fast dances and then a slow one where we held each other close and swayed.

"They're really cute together," she whispered to me. "Over there—no! Don't stare, dummy!"

And, of course, she was right. Charlie and Arabella were doing the slow dance, up close and personal, as if they'd trained together, looking into each other's eyes. I'm not sure how my big brother was doing it, but he seemed to be avoiding staring at her cleavage like lots of our neighbors were doing with the various women at the party. They were having fun together, so I had to admit that Shannon's match was a success. Whether it would be as successful for me, or a flaming disaster of Biblical proportions, remained to be seen.

There were lots of people dancing by that time, and some of it looked fairly risque, with a number of women having removed their bikini tops. Several couples were in the pool, too, clutching each other tight, with, more often than not, the lady's legs wrapped around her man's waist. The internal pool lights were turned down low, so what may or may not have been going on in the water was left to the observer's imagination.

I heard some whispered grumbling sometime after ten o'clock, shortly before I had to take a restroom break. When I walked in, I found out what it was about; instead of the full stalls with the virtual chorus of moans of the previous year, they were mostly empty, probably due to the 'towel attendant' supplied by the catering company. Arabella had put an end to the unrestrained activity that many had expected by installing the equivalent of a hall monitor in the men's room!

I chuckled before doing my business at the urinal, and then spoke with young Tom (according to his nametag). "Having fun this evening, Tom?"

"Jeez, no, sir. We were told this is the end-of-summer pool party, but it's awfully hot in here. It's the stupidest, most boring job I've ever had, too. Handing out paper towels to guys after they've used the restroom and washed their hands? Can't they get their paper towel themselves? To tell the truth, I'm not sure what my boss was thinking when he told me to do this. And he had Rita, my girl, do it in the women's room. Believe me, it's going to be a long night."

"Listen, you may not know it," I chuckled, "but you're providing a very valuable service to our neighborhood. We had lots of problems in our bathrooms at last year's party, but looks like you've taken care of that this year and are keeping the room nice and clean, too. Keep up the great work, Tom."

He perked up on hearing my mini-review of his efforts without actually understanding the underlying issue and thanked me before I went outside. The Piccolos, groping each other and giggling like teenagers, were about to go in, but I told Pete he'd better take a peek inside. They peeked in together, he nodded a thanks to me as she giggled, and then he whispered rather loudly that they'd better be heading home to take care of her little itch.

"Pete, you might want to find your wife's bikini top before you go, too," I said, getting a good look at the surgically enhanced wonders that they were.

He looked down at her bare breasts and nodded before cupping her and giving a little squeeze. She giggled again and they were off to look for her top.

With them leaving, I went to the bar, bought a couple of ice cold Heinikens, and took one back to the bathroom for Tom.

"Thanks, man! So cool! I appreciate it. This is turning out to not be such a bad gig after all. That lady with that guy a minute ago didn't have a top on! I've never seen such great tits."

"Wonder of wonders," I agreed before wishing him goodnight. I found Shannon and had her deliver the other beer to Rita in the women's room.

Charlie and Miz Bizzy-B were nowhere to be seen by then, so Shannon and I did a few more dances before calling it an evening. We went home, just the two of us, and made slow, passionate love, each professing our love and treating the other as the most precious person in the world.

I held out as long as I possibly could and was relieved when Shannon tipped over the edge, allowing me to explode into her. Having come together so well, we clenched each other, giving hugs and kisses, and I was sure it was the end of a wonderful night.

We held each other for a while as we rested, enjoying that feeling of the much loved, and I was about to suggest we go clean up before I felt Shannon's hand beginning to wander, showing she had another idea altogether.

"You didn't think you were done, did you?"

"Welllll, sort of."

"Think you can go for one more round?" she asked as she stroked me to bring me back to life.

"Yeah, I think that can be arranged," I said before kissing her again. "What do you have in mind?"

She rolled over and gave me the little soldier a few kisses and some more gentle strokes to bring him back to full hardness before she rose to her hands and knees, pointing her well-loved pussy at me like a gun.

"Get a little lube, slide back in, and then bang the fuck out of me like there's no tomorrow."

Hard and fast, that's what Shan wanted, and that's just what I gave her. She laughingly called it "Earthquake Mode," since it tended to shake the bed (and probably the house to a small degree), but more importantly, because it tended to shake her world with a series of orgasms. I pounded her, slamming against her so hard it was all she could do to hold on. Her arms collapsed then and it was just her butt sticking up in the air as I crashed into her, withdrew, and crashed once more.

Shannon cried out, repeatedly over the next few minutes, while I tried to never let up. Eventually though, my buildup couldn't be resisted and I groaned as I filled her for the second time of the evening. Then I collapsed, falling down over her back and sliding my arms around her.

The problem with Shannon's "Earthquake Mode," and the reason we don't do it often, is that it leaves me completely exhausted and unable to continue the evening's activities. I rolled off to the side after holding her for a bit, and closed my eyes.

I awoke a short time later to Shannon's little kisses. "Wow, just wow! That was the best," she whispered. "I forgot all about Charlie being here, though. God, I hope he's still at Arabella's. If he heard that, he'll never let us live it down."

"Well I hope he's not at Busty's and that he did hear it; it'll give him something to strive for."

Shannon laughed and I went to the restroom before going back to bed. I was about to get in when I wondered if Charlie was actually home, so I padded out and next door only to find his bed empty. Shan was asleep when I crawled back into bed, so I lay there, for a while, listening, but I never heard him come home.

***

Charlie finally came in at 10 on Sunday morning. Wearing his t-shirt and swim trunks from the night before, he looked the same except his hair was disheveled. Shannon and I looked at him in surprise, thinking he'd snuck into his bedroom during the night and was still there asleep.

"Morning," he said with a yawn as he dropped my car keys on the counter. "Thanks. I'm going to get a shower and take a nap before we have to head to the airport."

He went upstairs without another word and Shannon and I looked at each other. My heart was racing with all of my fears being realized; Charlie had spent the night with Busty Bustamonte and my life was about to enter the HOA twilight zone.

"Chris, stay calm. It will be okay," whispered Shannon.

"No, Shan, he's really screwed me over this time. Bitchy will have it in for me forever now."

I went down to the basement, not wanting to say another word, not wanting to take my anger toward Charlie out on Shannon for setting them up in the first place. I'd calmed myself by noon, having made out a list of things that I'd need to do before we put the house on the market. Maybe Mrs. Carstairs, our realtor, would be able to help us find another one that would be almost as perfect as this, but without the crazy HOA representative.

The kids were home when Charlie was ready to head to the airport, so he told them bye, gave Shannon a hug and kiss on her cheek, and then hefted his backpack and roll-on to head to the car.

"Chris, just stay calm. Remember, everything's going to be fine," said Shannon, before giving me a kiss that curled my toes.

There was silence in the car for the first half of the trip to the airport before I finally forced it out.

"So...you gonna tell me what happened with Miz, ah, Arabella, or just leave me twisting in the wind?"

Charlie was looking down at the floorboard. "Nothing happened, Chris. She's a beautiful, sweet woman and nothing happened."

"Charlie, you came in at 10! AM! Yeah, right! You spent the evening, no, the whole night, at her house and nothing happened?"

"We kissed a little and fell asleep holding each other. That's it. A gentleman doesn't make up tales."

"That's probably true, too, Charlie, but the saying is 'a gentleman doesn't tell.' Trouble is, you're no gentleman! What about all that 'blood is thicker than water,' 'brothers always tell' shit you were giving me?"

"Not this time little brother. Nothing to tell. I'm sorry. She's just, wow, and I was hoping, but nada, zilch, so I can't tell you how sorry I am for me, either."

A sense of relief, a calm, one that I hadn't felt since before Charlie's arrival, flooded over me. On one hand, I felt sorry for my big brother, the veritable pussy hound, who came up short for a change, but I breathed that great sigh of relief that he didn't fuck her—or fuck her over—so her anger might carry over toward me in her HOA duties.

We gave each other a big hug at the airport as I dropped him off, feeling happy to have spent time with him and sorry to see him leaving.

"Thanks, bro," he said. "I love you, Chris. Take care of your sweet wife. Don't know what she sees in you sometimes, but she's a keeper."

"Love you, too, Charlie, as much as it pains me sometimes. Safe travels, bro."

On the way home, I rolled down the windows, opened the sunroof, and turned the music up, relaxing to some great old tunes as the wind whipped through my hair. As much as I'd doubted it, Shannon's match had been successful and I'd escaped my precarious situation without a scratch. I was a happy, happy man.

Shannon gave me a kiss and raised an eyebrow, when I got home, but we couldn't talk since the kids were around. There was a lot to do before our family returned to work and school the next day, so Shannon and I had to put off our private conversation until that evening after the kids were in bed. We were snuggled up in our bed just minutes later.

"Chris, guess who called this afternoon."

"Your sister?"

"Yes, and no. She calls almost every day. Guess who called who doesn't usually call."

"Shan, I have no idea. Who?"

"Arabella."

I was surprised, to say the least, but I was calm, too, far calmer than I'd expected to be before my brother exhibited an altruistic streak I had no idea he possessed. I sighed, letting out so much of the frustration I'd experienced in the days leading up to the party. "At least she doesn't have any complaints about my big brother screwing her over."

"Nope, no complaints at all about it. She said, and I think this is a direct quote, "It's the best I've been fucked since college, and that includes through all 22 years of marriage."

"What?" I exclaimed, suddenly being crushed under the weight that had seemed to leave me earlier in the day. "Charlie...he swore to me that nothing happened!"

"Well, it may have been nothing to him, but Arabella said he rang her bell six or seven times over several sessions—and that's not counting when he, ahem, and I quote, 'titty fucked' her."

"God, Shannon, you've got to be kidding me. He didn't! Surely! Please tell me you're teasing. Please?"

"No, Chris, I'm not kidding, at least not according to Arabella."

"No! No, this can't be happening! I'll be in the HOA doghouse forever!"

"Chris, wait! I actually think this was just what Arabella needed. She's been so reluctant to put herself 'back on the market,' as she calls it, since her divorce, and Charlie showed her how good it could be. I hoped that might be the case, so that's why I tried to match them up in the first place."