Surprise! Surprise!

Life can get lonely when your husband is away. All characters are over 18.

I woke late and had had my breakfast. I'm Cindy Roamer and I was toweling off after my shower when I heard steps outside. It's already twenty past ten, but I'm surprised that Barney would get here so early. He isn't due until ten thirty and is rarely punctual.

It's a Sunday morning in mid-March and last night the clocks had sprung forward one hour. Perhaps that has kick-started Barney's internal clock although it's hard to imagine. I pick up the suntan lotion and then put it down again. Walking into the bedroom I take a bikini from my closet and slip into it. Here in Southern Florida mid-March is bikini weather. I pull on a terry towel robe and go back to the bathroom to collect the suntan lotion. As I go down the stairs, I can hear the mower going in the front yard.

Barney is in his sixties, and he claims to be retired although he works mornings at the local Walmart as a greeter. Every second Sunday he comes to us to do some light gardening for a couple of hours. Although I'm just thirty-two I like to flirt a little with Barney when my husband Daniel isn't here. I'm a born American but I became a Canadian when I married Daniel. We met at McGill University where I went to study. We dated, fell in love, and married shortly after graduating.

My parents live in Washington where I grew up, and last year I inherited this small house from my grandfather. Daniel and I live in Montreal but it's now our plan to winter here in future and return to Montreal in the spring. We can both work remotely, but Daniel needs to market his skills in person whereas my work finds me. As soon as the fierce cold was about to end, he was off to start networking on his home turf. That was fifteen days ago and I'm missing him.

Putting on my sunglasses and picking up a towel and my book I go out through the sliding doors. I cross the patio to the poolside, lie down on a lounger and begin to read. I hear the sound on the side-gate and the mower being pushed along the path. When Barney reaches me, I will ask him to put lotion on my back. We've done this before, and I always undo my bikini strap while lying face down on the lounger. It gives us both a little sense of naughtiness and we trust each other that it will go no further.

This time I lay my sunglasses and book aside, undo the strap and balance the lotion on the small of my back before burying my face in the towel on my lounger. There is only a thin strip of lawn here in the back and moments later I hear the mower stop.

"Would you be a dear and come and do my back?"

I hear his faint tread and then the shock of the cold lotion on my back before his hands spread it with a caressing motion across my shoulder blades up to my neck and shoulders and down to the top of my bikini bottoms. He starts again a little more firmly releasing knots in my neck and shoulders. I let my arms hang and he picks up the left one and gently massages more lotion into my biceps and triceps and on down my forearm to my hand. He massages the palm and the base of my thumb and then pulls on each finger in turn before releasing my hand.

He moves to my other side lifts my arm and repeats the process. I sense him shift and feel lotion on my right calf. This is new but quite welcome. Barney is also quite an accomplished artist. He understands the bone and muscle structure of the human body well. I have seen his paintings of the nude figure, both male and female mostly but not exclusively, of his late wife. These thoughts are in my mind as his hands move to massage my feet and ankles. A little thrill runs through my groin as he massages the area on the back of my ankle just above the heal.

"What Is the connection there?" I wonder. I have noticed it when I've had therapeutic massages. "It must be a reflexology thing, weird!"

Leaving my feet he works from the backs of my knees up the backs of my thighs, and I start to feel a tingle of anticipation. He stops at my upper thighs, and I feel lotion on my hips as his hands slide up my sides and around the sides of my breasts that are pressed firmly in the towel.

"Is this really Barney?" the question enters my head, "It's definitely more than he has ever done before. But if not, then who? It's surely not Daniel. I spoke to him in Toronto only yesterday. There's really no one else it could be."

With his thought I relax. I trust him and I'm intrigued to see where he will stop, especially as I find myself discretely pulling on the side ties on my bikini bottoms. I wonder if he will notice. He has. His lotion covered palms of his hands start very slowly inching down my butt, his fingers moving the material ahead of the lotion until I feel it fall on my thighs. Instinctively I part them, obviously so that no residue of the lotion will get on the material.

He massages my glutes, which are firm. I keep my body in good shape. I am aware I am now lying fully exposed before him. It's scary and exciting, especially as he moves my buttocks apart and he must see my anus if not my pussy.

His hands move again to my ankles, the insides this time, and up the insides of my calves. My legs creep slightly wider with a mind of their own as he moves past my knees to my inner thighs. I muffle a sigh as my anticipation builds. This is not Barney, but I push the thought aside. As his hands make gentle feathering movements up my inner thighs I can hardly keep still. I can feel I am wet and leaking moisture into the towel. He must sense my arousal. His fingers lightly brush up beside, but scarcely touch, my vagina. I flinch.

I hear a rustle of clothing being removed and the sound of a zipper being pulled down.

"What the heck?" I experience very confused emotions as shoes are kicked off and there is a loud splash.

I feel spray from the pool hit me, I rise on my arms and dropping my legs off the lounger I swivel to face the pool. Imagine my shock and surprise when I find someone I don't know is in my pool.

"Wait a moment," I think, "the face is familiar."

"Ben?"

"Good morning, Mrs. Roamer."

"My God! It's Barney's son, Ben. Ben is still in his twenties. His mother is Barney's second wife."

"I hope you enjoyed the massage. Dad's sick and sends his apologies. He mentioned you liked help with your suntan coverage but didn't suggest that it would be full body massage."

"No, he wouldn't, he doesn't. He usually just releases the tension in my neck and shoulders. Why are you in the pool?

"Well, this is embarrassing, but I was getting rather...I needed to cool off."

"I think I might need to cool off too," and I stand up, undoing the tie round my neck. My bikini top falls on the lounger on top of the bottoms. I am of course at this point totally naked, and I guessed from seeing his underwear inside his dropped jeans that Ben was also. I probably could have exercised better judgement but cooling off sounds right and I execute a shallow dive into the pool. I open my eyes in time to confirm that Ben is indeed naked as I swim past him. Two things are immediately obvious: he's still semi-erect, and he is large, larger than Daniel.

I surface rubbing my eyes as I try not to process what I have just seen. Instead, I swim around trying to keep the conversation general, while internally my hormones are raging. Ben is not only naked he's pretty hot.

"Are you working?" I ask. It seems a neutral question.

"Yes, I graduated Art School last summer and was lucky to get a good job in Boca Raton as a graphic artist." Did I already know that? Had Barney told me?

"Is that satisfying?"

"It's a good company, the work is interesting, and the pay is fairly good. I'd like to be a full-time artist, but not a starving one. I'm building a portfolio of my oils and watercolours that I'm planning to take to some galleries. I'll also look for commissions and see if I can build a reputation."

"What do you paint?"

"Landscapes, animals, you name it. Would you believe there's quite a lot of money to be had doing portraits of people's pets."

"I can Imagine, but you also paint people?"

"Absolutely. Posed groups or do you mean portraits?"

"I suppose I do. Would you paint me?" (Why did I say that?)

"I'd love to, Mrs. Roamer. Face or full figure, clothed, of course?"

"Why? Is there something wrong with my body? By the way you can call me Cindy." (Is my mouth still connected to my brain?)

"No, of course not. I just didn't think you..."

"Well, maybe not... but it could be a surprise for my husband."

We swim around in silence. I don't know what he's thinking but I can't get the idea of being painted in the nude out of my head.

"I'm getting out, I just needed to cool off," I say sliding my butt up on the side and standing up. I stand facing him, then turn and take a couple of steps before bending over the lounger. Through my parted legs I can see his unwavering gaze. Even though I'm wet I could slip my bikini back on, but I choose just to pick up my towel. Straightening up, I turn back towards him with the towel held over my forearm as I face him full frontal. His eyes are riveted to my body. "Are you coming out?"

He hesitates, but then he too lifts his butt onto the concrete. When he stands up, he clearly still has plenty to be embarrassed about if he really feels he has to.

"Sorry," he says indicating his hardness.

"Looks like something to be proud of, not sorry about," I say, "Why don't we share the towel?" as I gesture to it. (I must have taken leave of my senses, but I'm in awe of his nicely muscled body and boyish grin...and Daniel has been gone almost three weeks. Truth is, I'm incredibly horny. None of which is of course an excuse.)"

Ben looks a little stunned, but he is walking towards me. When he's two feet away, I step forward and envelop us both in the towel with my body pressed against his. There is really only one way this is going to go as he pulls me tighter.

"You are surprising and amazing," he says, "I'd love to paint you."

"Right now, just fuck me!" (There, I've said it, I've crossed a line I never thought I would cross.) You probably think I'm a brazen whore, but the truth is I'd only had sex a handful of times when I met Daniel and those were awkward rather than memorable. I just wasn't good at relationships. With Daniel all that changed, I found I enjoyed sex. In fact, I craved it, and we were good together, but now somewhere in my primitive brain I'm responding to the visceral appeal of a well-endowed, athletic body.

As I spoke, we were, through some unspoken understanding, already moving towards the strip of lawn. I sink to the ground and lie back. A moment later I raise my legs and part them as he kneels and positions himself between them. I don't think either of us is thinking beyond our shared and immediate need.

I notice a bead on precum oozing from the tip as he pulls back his foreskin and rubs his glistening crimson head against the wetness of my vagina. He rubs his thumb up and down my clitoris as he begins to push into me. I gasp as I feel myself being stretched. Daniel had always just seemed to fit in comfortably, but this feels almost as though I were a virgin again. I find myself quickly accommodating to his length however until he hits my cervix, and I give a little cry. He pulls back then seems to ease past it: under it over it? I have no idea.

Once he's fully in, he lifts my feet to his shoulders causing my bum to move until I can feel the hairiness of his balls against me. Then he starts to move, gently at first but with increasing vigor.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh Lord, fuck me hard!" Is that me talking?

The increase in his pace is agonizingly gradual. He must be exercising great self-control, savouring the experience until finally he's pounding into me.

"Don't stop, harder! Oh fuck, that's good!"

I feel the excitement mounting through my groin and gut. It's building like a great wave; I want to hold it but before I can the violent spasms of my orgasm overwhelm me. I'm vaguely aware of the sound of the screen door opening as Ben spills his load inside me. I may have momentarily passed out because the next thing I am aware of is Ben and Daniel both talking to me anxiously, concern on both their faces.

All I can think about in that instant is that I have not been wearing my IUD.

THE END (well probably not)

Copyright: © Dawn Ramble 2023