Taking Mazi

Tim Cousins came home to the sprawling house in the mountains north of Los Angeles late at night. The winding road to the remote canyon was desolate and quiet. When he made this drive Tim often thought of Los Angeles with its thriving millions no more than 10 miles away. It always amazed him that a simple drive up a twisting road would transport him into another world.

He inherited the ramshackle house years ago from a distant uncle he had never known. There was a small trust fund to take care of the expenses and taxes and the single stipulation - he could never sell the house. As a successful construction project manager with a thriving firm in the basin below that was fine with Tim, the old house was the perfect retreat.

Here in the mountains the neighbors came and went. Over the years Los Angeles had found the remote canyon and successive waves of postmodern settlers had laid down roots. Some were successful - the Parker family half mile further up the road was thriving. The Davis widow across the canyon seemed to have flowered in this remote and harsh terrain.

Others were less successful. The house immediately below Tim's place had traded hands half a dozen times in as many years. The ideal of living in the remote canyons above Los Angeles often slammed into the reality. For many people the remoteness, the isolation, and the lack of services beyond basic electricity and water were too much to bear.

Tim gave the downstairs neighbors a couple of more months. He was some sort of music producer, given to expensive suits and a flashy car. She was, apparently, his ingénue. Tim smiled as he thought of her. He had met them shortly after they moved in. He had stopped by to introduce himself and they had been pleasant enough.

The producer was filled with that restless energy that drives the truly ambitious and his conversation had been disingenuous and distracted. She had been, frankly, drunk and bored out of her mind. She had flirted with him as a matter of form because that was what was expected of her in the world she inhabited.

Since then he had occasionally seen them from his back patio and exchanged waves and shouted hellos but that was about it. Tonight, as he drove past their house, it appeared dark and unoccupied. One of the telltale signs of their return to Los Angeles had been the increasing frequency of absence. Tim didn't mind. One of the things he loved about the canyon was the quiet. His working day was long and chaotic; sometimes he just spent the night in the city below, sometimes for days on end. When he was here he surrendered to the simplicity and silence.

He swung his car into the garage, turned it off and then simply abandoned it. It was the custom, here in the mountains, to leave your keys in the ignition. There were two reasons for it. First, if there was an emergency and the neighbor needed the car they were welcome to it. Second, in the unlikely event that crime crept up from the city below, it would be better for them to simply take the car than to come into the house in search of the keys.

Tim strode into the empty and dark kitchen, paused long enough to grab a beer from the humming refrigerator, and then slid the accordion glass doors wide open and went out onto the patio. He drug one of the wooden chairs to the railing at the edge overlooking the wild canyon and sat down. At times like this the simplicity of life was an almost unbearable pleasure. Tim sat there, in silence, savoring the moment.

In the still and quiet evening the sound of a sliding door from the downstairs house was fairly loud. A moment later a light came on in the pool area. It was the ingénue. She was wearing a black string bikini top and a pair of stylishly ragged blue jeans. She was barefoot and her curly black hair was damp and tousled. She had a brown beer bottle in one hand and she was obviously looking for something.

Tim watched as she turned over one cushion after another. Whatever her talent was or was not she possessed a sensual beauty that revealed itself in her movements, an inherent femininity and an unconscious grace. She was also, obviously, slightly tipsy. In the clear night air Tim could hear her cursing softly as whatever she was searching for eluded her.

It was somewhere in her search that she happened to look up and notice Tim sitting there. She smiled and waved at him. Tim smiled back and lifted his beer in her return.

"Oh thank God!" She exclaimed, "Please tell me you are not drinking beer with a twist off top!"

Tim laughed, "Not likely."

"Stay right there." she commanded. "I'll be up in a moment." She vanished into the house.

Tim took another sip of beer and waited patiently. Several minutes passed and he heard the scrape of her sandals as she came around the side of the house and onto the patio carrying a six pack of beer in both hands.

A moment later she was sitting next to him and he was handing her a freshly opened beer. She took a long drink and pointed with her bottle at the opener fastened to the rail with a piece of cord and a staple.

"We'll count that as a fucking brilliant idea."

Cold beer in hand they settled into conversation and easy laughter. Mazi had just finished a trying couple of days in LA helping the producer ride shotgun on a new jazz act that he was trying to break. They had developed superstar attitude before they developed superstar talent. Their demands had been both entertaining and insane. When they had insisted on a foursome with Mazi before they lay down their next track she had enough. She stormed out in a righteous fury when the producer seemed to consider the idea for a moment.

Her intention had been to come to the house in the canyon, get some of her possessions, and then find a hotel with a spa to retreat into. But when she got here she realized that which she was really craving was the quiet of the canyon. Except, after a pair of strong vodka martinis and deciding to settle down with a beer or two on the patio and a dip in the pool, well, she had lost the bottle opener.

Suddenly Mazi jumped to her feet and walked to the far end of patio. Tim watched her go curiously. She reached the end and leaned out over the rail. A moment later she gestured for him to come join her. Tim stood up and strode across the patio. She smiled that award-winning smile at him and raised her hand and wiggled one figure back and forth as if she was scolding him.

"Did you know that you can see right into the master bedroom from this part of your patio?"

She extended her open hand to Tim and then pulled him closely up behind her as she leaned out over the rail on her tip toes.

"Look!"

Tim, curious, amused, and he had to admit aroused by her proximity leaned over to see. She was right, if the blinds were open from this position on the patio he would've had a perfect view into their bedroom.

She laughed and looked back over her shoulder at him.

"Naughty, naughty, naughty! Here I was all upset about a jazz trio thinking I would be the perfect inspirational treat and my own strong but silent neighbor has probably been watching me for the last couple of months!"

Tim's laugh was a quiet chuckle.

"I'm going to have to plead innocent on that one. Now, if I would have known that was the view then I most certainly would've watched at least a time or two."

Mazi glanced back over her shoulder and slowly sized him up with her dark eyes. In that moment something changed between them and what had been friendly and flirtatious transformed. A current of electricity ran between them.

Tim was suddenly aware of the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeper and longer. Mazi watched him as he slowly stepped forward and closed the distance between. She caught her breath when their bodies touched for the first time. Tim felt her then, tight, trembling and hot.

Tim leaned into her, pressing her against the rail. The sound she made was half whimper and half moan. It inflamed him. He felt the blood rush into his cock. In a few short seconds it was painfully bound by his pants and deliciously pressed against Mazi's ass. The look in her eyes was half fear and half lust. Tim leaned in and whispered in her ear.

"If I were to look down into the open window and see you, there, on the bed naked with three jazz musicians vying to sate themselves in your beautiful body I would undoubtedly be driven mad with lust."

He took his index finger and placed it just above her navel. She gasped. He slowly traced line up the center of her body, over the lean muscles of her abdomen, trailing across her brown skin until he reached the tiny gold chain that held the cups of her bikini together. With a twist he wrapped it around his finger.

"I think they would play you like an instrument. Can you imagine that? Can you imagine their hands lifting you, caressing you, pressing your thighs wide apart so that one after another they could lower their mouths to taste you?"

With his other hand Tim found the bow that tied the back of the bikini and pulled on the loose end of the string until the knot vanished. Mazi raised her hands to cover her breasts. Tim slowly pulled the bikini away from her body.

"Whatever modesty you held would be stripped away from you at the caress of their tongues on your cunt, on your clit. You would start to rise to meet them, thrusting your hips upward, trying to draw them deeper into you."

Tim slowly pulled her hands away from her breasts. They were small, almost delicate, but beautifully shaped. Her nipples were the color of almonds. Both were already erect, rigid from the trembling lust he could feel beneath him. He cupped her breasts the nipples pressing into his palms. He slowly caressed them, stroking them while he continued to whisper.

"Soon enough you would lose track of whose tongue was pressing its way between those sweet, wet, swollen lips. The waves of pleasure would ripple through you one after another, each rising higher and higher. When that first orgasm crashed over you would you cry out or shutter in trembling silence?"

Mazi whimpered and reached back to grasp Tim by the cock through his pants.

"Oh, my God!"

Tim's moan answered her exclamation. Deep, rumbling, it came from the pit of his stomach, from the root of his cock and Mazi felt the moan cut through her to her core.

She barely felt his hands on the buttons of her jeans. A moment and he had stripped them from her and she stood before him naked. He stepped back and stripped his own pants. His cock, free from the confining fabric, leapt upward, a hard and curved testament to his desire. Mazi, her eyes wide, gripped the wooden rail as he stepped to her.

"After that first orgasm, when your sweet little pussy was dripping, they would drag you on to your hands and knees. One of them would kneel in front of you, his long fingers curling in your hair as she pulled that sweet mouth toward his cock."

Tim leaned in and kissed Mazi the first time. She surrendered, melting into his body, losing herself in his heat. The kiss lingered long enough to consume her and then Tim leaned back, took her slender waist into his hands and twisted her back around to press her over the rail.

"Oh, oh, oh fuck." She whimpered.

Tim lifted her slightly, so that she was standing on her tip toes, pinned against the rail, leaning precariously over. He felt her hot slick lips as he bent his knees slightly and maneuvered the thick head of his cock just inside of her.

"There would be that first moment, when you felt one of them at the entrance to your cunt and you would know that whatever you had planned had slipped completely out of your control. You would know that they were going to fuck you until they were through with you. Then, they would cum, on you and in you, coating you, filling you, drenching you. You would know that despite all of your protestations of innocence, of outrage, that was why you left. Because you are afraid of what would happen if you said yes."

Tim plunged into Mazi. She rose to her tip toes and screamed; her voice a wild beast lost in the echoless night. Tim's cock filled her completely. Pain from the sudden penetration vanished into the wave of pleasure that followed as he pinned her against the rail and drove his cock in and out with long fast strokes, the slow dance of their seduction gone in the instant. They descended into the purity of a rough punishing fuck.

His hands roamed her body just as his cock flowed within the inner walls of her cunt. She felt him pinch her nipples, the brief fiery pain seeming to cascade down a cord that connected to her swollen clit. She twisted and turned and tried simultaneously to pull away and to plunge him deeper into her. Her voice kept crying out, incoherent words, gasps of pleasure, cries for mercy, commands of faster, harder, deeper.

Tim heard her voice somewhere distant, the entirety of his being focused on the sensation of the hot walls rippling down the shaft of his cock. His hands, at times rough, at times tender, roamed over her slender brown body.

At one point he realized he had a fist clenched in her dark curls, her head pulled back, her eyes closed, her mouth open, gasping. In his other hand he had one of her almond nipples, pinched tightly between the thumb and finger, stretched painfully outward. Her cries spoke of her pain but the way she slammed her ass back into his thighs, the way her cunt clenched at his cock, revealed she was trapped in that world were pleasure and pain intermingle into a greater whole.

It was too much for Tim. He buried himself inside of her and came. He roared, no more than a beast himself, as he thrust so hard he lifted her off her feet and held her dangling half over the rail. He shook as he pumped her full of thick white cum. Each thrust deep into her was accompanied by a jet of cum until finally he was exhausted.

He eased her down off the rail and she stood on trembling legs her hands clinging desperately to keep her upright. He stepped back and felt his cock slip out. He looked down to watch the thick rivulets of white cum slide down her soft brown inner thighs.

Somewhere in that sight the beast vanished and the man returned. On shaky legs of his own he scooped her up in his arms and carried her back into the house. She lay curled against his chest, resting her head upon his shoulder, her lips softly kissing his throat as she murmured quietly. He carried her into the master bedroom and laid her gently onto the white comforter that covered the king bed. He stood over her for a moment, looking down at her slender brown form, drenched in sweat, cum slick thighs glistening.

She reached up, extending a hand, and he took it and slipped onto the bed, stretching out beside her. She curled against him, her head upon his chest, her hot body pressed against his side, one brown thigh draped over his abdomen. Their breath mingled, rose and fell in tandem, as the swift sleep of the satiated overtook them.