The Housesitter

Beth had become a cliché, and she knew it, and she hated herself for it. It was a tale as old as time- girl falls for boy older than her, gives him her virginity, boy graduates and goes off to college, leaving his high school girlfriend in the dust. It had been a pretty shitty way to celebrate her eighteenth birthday. Every party she had gone to since the breakup left her feeling pittied and judged. She wasn't sure which was worse. What she did know for certain was that she needed to get out of her small town to reset before school started back up. She had sixteen days before then, and she planned to use every one to clear her head before heading back to school for the first time without being on the arm of, Mr. Perfect, Mark Stephenson.

She tried to convince her best friend to take a road trip with her, but Erin's mom had nixed that on the spot. Beth's parents were swamped with work. No chance their either. Getting out of Wadsworth for a while seemed hopeless. But then her phone rang on a Tuesday night and salvation came with the ringtone. Her aunt/godmother- the catholic type, not fairy- offered to fly Beth down to house and pet sit her home while Aunt Leslie and Uncle Steve spent two weeks in Europe. Beth would have jumped through the phone to hug her if she could.

Thirty-six hours later, Beth's uber dropped her off at 1547 Hazel Ct. She paused for a moment looking at the sign. There were two numbers on wooden ovals stacked on the same signpost, and, given how long it had been since she'd been here, she wasn't certain which was her destination and which was 1545 Hazel Ct. She pulled out her phone to text her aunt when she saw the mini flag of the university where her aunt and uncle had met. That settled that problem.

Beth had forgotten just how peaceful the place was. She wandered past the white marble counter tops and the immaculate appliances and the luxurious furniture toward the master bedroom. Every time she'd ever been here she'd slept in the double bed down the hall and had been forced to share a bathroom with her younger sister. Not this time, though. These fourteen days would be spent in her godmother's massive four-poster bed, showering in the glow of the heating light on the marble walls of the wide-open shower, and relaxing in the absurdly sized tub. A satisfied smile washed over her face. This was what she needed.

The piece de resistance was the out back. Out the door you passed through a covered area with lush outdoor furniture, a bar area, and two widescreen TVs. No more than twenty steps from the door was the kidney shaped pool lined with lounge chairs where Beth planned to spend the vast majority of her sta. Privacy was key for a teenager staying alone, and this compound offer plenty. A stained privacy fence lined the east and north sides of the yard, and an enormous manicured hedge blocked the view from the only neighboring home to the west.

Three days of peace and quiet, reading, and the occasional dip into her aunt's extensive wine collection had been restorative. It had been everything she'd needed. But...by the fourth day...she was bored. Texting her friends back home, cranking through every book she'd brought along, and watching sappy movies on cable had become stale. Three days of solitude was healing, but she thought a fourth might constitute wallowing. Beth needed to venture out. After all, what was the point of her aunt leaving her the blank check of a credit card if she didn't treat herself to the café near the water followed by a bit of shopping? She showered, threw on a pair of jean shorts and tank top over a mint green swimsuit, and headed out- stopping only to pick up the book resting on her aunt's bedside table. She was going to a restaurant by herself after all. She'd need something to do.

Five pages into the book she blushed for the second time. Her aunt certainly wasn't reading Gone With The Wind. This was pure smut. Beth lowered the book into her lap below the table so that no one would be able to see the cover. She was hooked, and had no interest in stopping reading now, but her Midwestern sensibilities had no interest in being caught reading something so scandalous in a public place.

"More water?" the waitress asked, breaking her concentration.

"Huh. Er. Oh. Yes please."

"Sorry to spook you," the blonde said with a warm smile, "I know how engrossing the Sapphire books can be. Wait til you get to the second one. It'll melt your...well, everything." The waitress winked and headed back to the kitchen.

So much for being secretive, Beth chastised herself. Thirty pages later she was glad she had failed in her attempts. The second book was somehow steamier than this? Good lord. She paid her tab and asked the same waitress in her most uninterested tone, "Where is the best bookstore in town?" The woman grinned widely and sent her in the right direction. Forty-five minutes later, Beth strode onto the beach three blocks from her house with Sapphire books one, two, and three in the bookstore bag she carried.

Time ceased to exist. She was transported into this world of femininity and power and lust. Cecilia, the main character of the series, had a group of men under her thumb and all they seemed to be able to do was to beg for more her attention and more of her body. She'd never heard of a "reverse harem" before today, but suddenly the concept was the center of her universe. Beth burned through book one in an unsettling amount of time, almost skimming the plot in places, so that she could reach the prophesized fire waiting in book two.

Cecilia's second adventure did not disappoint. By page eleven she was splayed on a chaise lounge being serviced by three men simultaneously. There were hands and tongues and teeth in places Beth had never even considered. She made her way into the water trying to ease the fire building inside her, but it was no use. The only thing the trip to the water managed to accomplish was to make her skin all the more covered in sand. Two more pages was all she could take. The mint colored bikini would have been damp with or without a trip to the shoreline, but at least the salt water hid one indication of her arousal. Her shorts and tank laid where she'd left them as she walked away. Her mind was in fifty places at once. All of them revolved in some way around a chaise lounge. Sand grated between her ample thighs as she scurried home, but, despite the discomfort, she never considered stopping at the public showers to wash some of it away. There was no time for that. Pain, nor shame, nor oncoming traffic could keep her from her need at that point- release.

Beth began peeling off her swimsuit the moment the front door closed behind her. She left a trail of flip-flops, shopping bags, bikini top and bottom from the door, up the stairs, and into her room. Her mother would have been mortified by the sand caked to her daughter's frame as she climbed into her elder sister's bed, but, given her mother's puritanical repression, that was hardly what she would have objected to most.

The high school athlete laid sideways across the bed- book two in her right hand, her left buried between her thighs. "Fuuuuck," she moaned at the euphoria of finally being able to address the ache she'd been trying to suppress for hours. There was no suppression now, though. She read aloud as she grinded into her hand. "Brandon's tongue danced on my clit as his cousin's shaft stiffened against the relentless hunger of my tongue and lips," she read, in a raspy, erratic tone. Page after page she read aloud, her arousal climbing steadily until, finally, as the main character came she did the same. Beth's body went limp at the release. Less than ninety seconds later she drifted into a blissful sleep.

When Beth finally awoke, it was to darkness. The only light that shone in the room was moonlight and the faint glow of the nightlight in the adjoining bathroom. She rummaged through the tangled sheets in search of her phone. Her eye's bulged when she found it and saw the time. 10:17. Good lord, she thought, how could I have possibly slept for that long? No wonder I'm starving. She laughed at the absurdity of a nap so long as she rolled over and scrolled through her phone until something on her food delivery app. Forty-five minutes?, she cursed, Ugghh. Then spotted her book lying beside her. If she was going to have to wait that long, at least she could pass the time with Cecilia and the boys.

Two pit stops were required before she could dive back into her book. The first was at the bathroom sink where she splashed a few handfuls of water on her face in hopes that it would shake the cobwebs out of her head. Next was the refrigerator. Beth knew she couldn't last forty five minutes with nothing in her already rumbling stomach. The light when she opened the fridge was blinding. It was the first light to hit her eyes, aside from the glow of her phone, since she had fallen asleep hours before. Once her eyes had adjusted, she settled on raw carrots. They were delicious until she bit down on something gritty. Sand. Swirling patterns of sand still covered portions of her body. The light beige of the sand still stood out against her pale skin- particularly her thighs, which had the look of a bowl of cream with the slightest amount of coffee not yet mixed in. Enough was enough, she decided. She couldn't stand the gritty, sweaty sensation a moment longer.

The sliding glass door to the backyard was wide open. Beth cursed her carelessness as she strode through the opening and slid into the still water, dark water of the pool and let the cool water wash away her discomfort. She hadn't bothered to turn on the pool lights, so the stars shined like candle-lit crystal in the sky above.

Serenity lasted only a moment, though, before giggling broke the silence and was followed by two loud splashes. Clearly there were now people in the pool next door. More giggling ensued before she heard a woman's voice say, "No! Stop. We can't, babe," with a tone somewhere between and whisper and a laugh.

"Of course we can," came a deep, baritone reply. "No one has been in that house all afternoon. They're obviously out of town. Look! There's not a single light on in the whole place. So...come to Papa," he chortled.

Beth had to stifle a giggle of her own. Are they really about to... ope...yep, sure are she said to herself silently in the darkness. The towering hedges gave sight line privacy between the two properties, but they did nothing for sound. After all, the near sides of each pool were only a couple dozen yards apart. Small splashes lip smacking, and intermittent moans left little to the teenage voyeur's imagination. The couple in the pool next door was making out and was moments away from fucking. Staying there, listening, was a massive invasion of privacy, and Beth knew it. It was wrong. So why wasn't she sneaking back inside as quietly as possible? Time to move, she told herself, but swimming to the side of the pool closest to the sound wasn't what she'd had in mind. It was like an out of body experience; like a taboo siren's call she could resist.

The woman urged her partner on with a series of "oh baby's" and "yesses." He praised her body time and again as though he was with Aphrodite herself. Beth, whose arms were now resting on the side of the pool, seemed to be frozen in time. It was a surreal scene, albeit a blind one. The more aroused the woman became, the more brazen her instructions flowed. Lick here. Grab this. Do that. And then, after a guttural moan, she let out a "yesssssss." Beth decided, correctly, that the man must have slipped inside his partner. The splashes became louder, but not so loud as to muffle the clear sound of the flesh of these two faceless lovers pounding against one another. "There. Fuck. Take me there," the woman moaned, "I want you there."

There? Where is there? Beth whispered to herself. If this couple was her siren, their call had just become even less resistible. As quietly as she could manage, she pressed her palms into the deck of the pool and lifted herself out of the water and toward the hedge. She found a gap in the foliage clear enough that she could ascertain where "there" was. The pool had no stairs. Instead it began with water only six inches deep at one side and steadily increased in depth. "There" was the shallowest portion. And "there" is where the woman came into Beth's view as the most erotic thing she'd ever witnessed.

Beth and Mark had only ever tried missionary or doggy style- she hated that term. She'd felt powerless in either as her boyfriend jackhammered into her wildly. There was nothing powerless about the stranger she was watching now, though. The woman in the next pool had both her hands in her flaming red locks as she rode her partner, who laid flat on his back- face barely about the water. The man held her pinup model hips and pistoned back into the woman again and again, causing shallow waves to crash against the side of the pool in a steady rhythm. She was gorgeous, and Beth couldn't help but admire her body, but the greatest admiration was for the power she wielded and the look in her eyes. They blazed like a fire as brilliant as her hair. She was, in that moment at least, a goddess come to earth. She'd never in her life wanted to trade places with anyone until that very moment. Beth stood, hands spreading the hedges, with her mouth agape.

And then the redhead spoke and Beth's body betrayed her. Her hand dove wantonly into her bikini bottoms, as the female stranger demanded more from her lover. "This is what you wanted, right? You wanted to fuck me in a stranger's pool?" The man nodded his assent. "Then fuck me!" she roared.

That challenge was all it took to swing the balance of power. The man rose from the baptismal waters a changed man. He bent at the waist and spun his buxom partner around one hundred eighty degrees on his massive member until her taught ass was directly in his face and her magnificent breasts and glamorous face thrust in Beth's direction. " I wasn't fucking you?" he asked through gritted teeth. "I'm not sure you can handle more, but we're about to find out." He replaced her hand in her mane with his own and twisted it mercilessly, pulling her toward him until her ear was millimeters from his lips. The woman's hands grasped her breasts wildly in response. Beth mimed the action unconsciously. In her mind, everything this god was doing to his goddess was actually being reigned down upon her. She couldn't make out what he'd whispered into the woman's ear, but the actions that followed made clear that it had been something primal.

The Goddess lurched forward, on her knees, slamming both palms onto the pool floor while grinding against the cock of her god still buried to the hilt inside her sex. His hands kneaded at her ass and she moaned her approval. Without warning, he raised and contorted his right wrist before bringing it down on her left ass cheek with savage force. "There's my beast," Goddess growled, a wicked grin spreading across her freckled face. The God mirrored the action, bringing his left paw down on her right cheek with equal force. "More. Harder," the Goddess ordered defiantly. The God obliged. He rained down alternating blows upon her backside, and, with each, her smile only widened. The onslaught had to be painful, but you'd never have guessed it based on the Goddesses' reaction. She was in her own personal Valhalla.

Beth was in her own as well. Her right hand remained on her breasts, kneading them and tweaking her nipples, while her left, her dominant hand, slipped back between her thighs. The middle and index fingers of her left hand enveloped her slit as they repeatedly slid up and down, pressing on her clit at every opportunity. The ache inside her demanded more. She needed to feel some semblance of the euphoria that the Goddess was bathing in. One finger slipped inside her , followed moments later by a second when one proved insufficient. A third could have been accommodated easily given her wetness, despite the tightness of her sex, but she could barely stifle the cries of ecstasy elicited by the second digit. Her right hand briefly wandered to her ample right ass cheek and squeezed with the same fervor as the God, but that proved to be more than she could bear. She'd never been spanked- sexually or otherwise. The sensation was completely foreign, and the intensity pushed her over the edge.

An orgasm like she'd never imagined possible washed over her entire body. It would have taken the National Guard to pry her left hand away from inside her, but she did manage to summon her right hand to cup violently against her supple lips to muffle her screams of ecstasy. Beth's knees swayed and half-buckled beneath her, but she managed to stay upright. Her own release had no impact on her voyeurism. She needed to see the Goddess crest her own climax. Moments later, when the redhead bucked wildly in the throws of an orgasm, Beth watched before crumpling to the ground in exhaustion after the power of her second in as many minutes.

By the seventh day of her stay, Beth was bored, save for two things: the Cecilia books (she was now on book five), and the images of seared into her brain of the God and Goddess next door. The later were long gone, though. She'd seen them loading up their rental car and heading out the morning after the show they'd unknowingly put on. Their departure didn't remove the images of their lust seared into her brain, though. She'd remember them for the rest of her life.

Nothing on the menu at Murray's Café was particularly tasty. Yet, for the seventh day in a row, she found herself ordering from their menu. She no longer made any attempts to hide her book from Katie- her waitress- on anyone else. It was smut, but it was part of her life, at least for the short term, so she'd decided to stop caring what strangers she'd never see again thought about her reading choices. The same was true at the beach, where she went each day after lunch. Mothers and Grandmothers side-eyed her for reading the books out in the open, and it had made her self-conscious until she finally realized- if they know the book is smut by the innocuous cover it's because they've read it too. Fuck their hypocrisy.

A particularly judgmental glare on that particular afternoon made her want to fight the lumpy old housewife who gave it, but she kept her composure and simply left the beach instead. She cursed the old bitty under her breath as she made her way back to the house and into the bar area. Irish rage coursed through her veins, so she decided her self-control had earned her a vodka and lemonade. Once she'd mixed her drink from her uncle's supply she made her way through the open door. Shit, she thought, you did it AGAIN! She was still cursing herself when she looked up to see a group of men splayed across the furniture in her aunt's living room. She screamed at the top of her lungs. The unsuspecting men looked as confused and frightened as Beth.

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After some tense moments it became clear that this group had made the same error she'd almost made if not for the flag on the front porch. The dual numbers on the sign post had mixed them up. When their AirBnB instructions said that the boys would find the house key under the back mat, but it was nowhere to be found, they assumed they had guessed the wrong unit. When they went around back of 1547, assuming it was 1545, and found the back door wide open, they figured they'd found their spot. That is, until they'd been confronted with a scantily clad teenager screaming in terror.

A bearded man, at least six inches taller than her stood and motioned her, palms down, that all was well. "Tell me what's wrong," he offered.