tagErotic CouplingsA Summer Idyll

A Summer Idyll

byJulia K©

It had been a year since I had last spoken to my friend Hillary. Yet despite the fact that we really hadn't seen much of each other since I'd moved west five years earlier, we remained close. She called at the beginning of last summer, and, since it had been so long, was glad to hear from her. Much of our conversation revolved around her son, Jim, who at the young age of twenty-four was experiencing the end of his first serious relationship.

Hillary is a bit older than I am, consequently I'm just six years older than her son. Hillary said that Jim had taken being dumped by his girlfriend pretty hard and that she was worried about him. He had opted for a year off from his studies, and, according to her, seemed to lack direction. She also mentioned that he was desperate for a change of scenery. It was then that I offered to let Jim come and stay with me on the west coast to give them a break from each other. I told her that he could be by himself and do some potentially productive reflecting on what he wanted to do with himself. She was genuinely touched by the offer, but was reluctant to accept, thinking it too much of a burden on me. I assured her that it wouldn't be. Besides, I remembered Jim as a sweet and gentle boy. He could stay a month if he liked; I had plenty of room.

It was married life that had brought me to the west coast. And though my husband is a very wealthy man, our marriage had been little more than a facade for several years. As an art dealer, he travels most of the year, often leaving me alone in our huge oceanfront property for months at a time. As a visual arts instructor at the nearby university, I am kept busy most of the year teaching. But summer was approaching, and though as an artist in my own right, I had my painting to occupy much of my free time, my husband and most of my friends were off on their summer excursions; exploring Europe or South America. Whether or not it was my subconscious that prompted me to invite Hillary's son to stay with me, it didn't matter - I knew I couldn't take another summer alone.

Jim would have his own corner of the house, access to a workout room, pool, sauna, Jacuzzi, even one of our cars if he wished. We could see as much or as little of each other as he wanted, it would be up to him.

I picked Jim up at the airport in my silver Mercedes convertible. I realized immediately that I could no longer refer to him as a 'boy'. In the years since I had seen him last, he had developed into a very handsome young man; more than six feet tall, with the kind of dreamy blue eyes and wavy black locks that girls are drawn to like magnets. We chatted amicably on the way home, getting re-acquainted with stories of when he was a boy and we all lived back east. I could see that he was still the same charmingly sweet and gentle person I had known in the past. He was a delight to talk to and though he seemed somewhat innocent, exuded a kind of quiet confidence and a level of maturity beyond his years. As we drove along the ocean highway with the top down, the wind began to push the hem of my miniskirt up above the top of my silk stockings and the snaps of my garter-belt.

As I turned to say something to Jim, I noticed that he was staring at my exposed thighs. At the time I pretended not to notice, but in retrospect I realize that I found it quite exciting. At thirty-two, I work hard to maintain my looks and slim figure. As a younger woman I had once had ambitions of a modeling career; but standing just 5'4" and being extremely busty, I realized early on that, although I was fairly attractive, modeling jobs would likely by few and far between. Since marrying my husband, and perhaps in lieu of any kind of physical relationship together, I have compensated by indulging myself in the classic vice of the 'kept' woman; namely, all manner of beauty and body worship - private fitness trainer, manicures, pedicures, mud baths, massages, bikini waxes, facials, etc. As a result, I could still easily pass for a twenty-something. Being so top-heavy, I have always been fanatical about wearing a bra and consequently my breasts, along with my derriere remain quite firm. Sex with my husband, even when we did make love on a regular basis had - truth be told - always been a little routine and far too infrequent for my arguably highly-sexed tastes. So perhaps it was the prolonged period of involuntary abstinence that had caused my heart to go pitter-patter in reaction to Jim's attentive eyes.

My handsome young charge was amazed at the size of the house as we pulled up the front entranceway; lush and expansive, the property sits atop a cliff overlooking the Pacific and a private stretch of white

sandy beach. The house itself is a modern structure with tall, white walls and clean lines. Enormous panes of glass make the inside feel perpetually airy and bright. I showed Jim to his room and toured him about the house. As it was late, I said goodnight and welcomed him to my home - reaffirming my pledge that he was welcome to stay as long as he liked. He thanked me with such touching sincerity that I couldn't resist standing on my tiptoes and planting a kiss on his cheek.

A week later, we had both settled into a happy state of cohabitation. We became fast friends and Jim proved to be wonderful company. We rarely ever talked about his broken heart, but I sensed it was never very far from his thoughts. Jim had free access to the Mercedes, and while I spent the afternoons painting in my studio, would often go for walks or drives on his own. He loved the open ocean road and the feeling of freedom he got driving it with the top down and the sea breeze blowing in his hair.

One night though, I was standing in the living room sipping a glass of wine, staring at the waves and feeling pretty melancholy. The audio system that pumps music throughout the house began to play Bryan Ferry's "Slave to Love" - a sentimental favorite of mine when my husband and I had been happier. As I stood there listening, I felt a tear run down my cheek. Looking up into the window's reflection. I noticed that Jim was standing at the foot of the stairs watching me. I turned to face him.

"Are you alright?" he asked sweetly, perhaps noticing my tears.

I assured him that I was and then explained the significance of the song. Then, seizing a sudden impulse, I set my wine glass down and extended my hand to him.

"Why don't you come and dance with me?" I asked.

Without saying a thing, he approached, took my hand and put his arm around my waist. I pressed my body against his and rested my head against his chest. It felt so good to be held in a man's strong arms again.

"You seem so lonely, Mrs. Elliot," he said timidly as I looked up into his expressive eyes.

"Please call me Olivia," I said. "Mrs. Elliot sounds so old."

My blouse was partially unbuttoned at the time, exposing the top of my black lace bra and a great deal of cleavage, and I noticed that this time Jim was doing his best to be tactful and not stare at my breasts - albeit somewhat unsuccessfully. I also felt a swelling in the front of his pants as I stood pressed against him, and although I couldn't see it, it felt very large. Believing that I was the cause of his arousal I felt another pang of excitement the likes of which I hadn't felt in awhile. But this was crazy! I was a married woman lusting after the son of my closest friend - a young man almost a decade my junior! We danced slowly and close until the song ended.

The next morning, while taking a break from my studio, I suggested that, as the weather was quickly getting hotter, he should take advantage of the huge marble in the back. Jim confessed that he didn't own a swimsuit, to which I responded incredulously that you couldn't spend the summer on the west coast without owning at least one! That said, I told him that I was going to take him shopping to my favorite swimwear boutique and buy him one that very morning. He smiled and we set off for town soon after.

We arrived at the store - a very upscale boutique in a posh area of town - and found it empty except for a lone saleswoman; a pretty girl in her early twenties. I decided that, as long as I was there I might as well look for something new for myself as well and started looking through the bikinis. The young woman soon approached the two of us and asked if she could be of assistance. I had spotted a skimpy Italian design in a beautiful shade of mauve and asked if they carried it in my size.

"I'm sure we do," she answered. "May I ask your bra size, madam?" Jim seemed to blush at the question.

"Thirty-four, double G," I responded.

"Thirty-four? But you're so ... busty," Jim blurted out before he realized what he'd said. "I'm sorry," he added bashfully.

The saleswoman and I shared a good laugh. I could see that she was quite taken with my good-looking male companion and his sexy behind.

"Never you mind, young man," I said as a teasing reproach. "If you must know, it's the cup size that tells the story."

"You're rather petite, otherwise," said the woman. "Let's just match a size four bottom with a full-figured size top. That should be just right. Why don't you try these on?"

I headed for the dressing rooms, stripped down and slipped on the bikini. It was very racy and I was glad I'd recently had a bikini waxing. The top gave my breasts plenty of support but created mountains of cleavage, and both the top and bottom pieces were like a second skin. Although I thought it fit and looked good on me, I decided that I wanted a man's opinion. I sent for Jim and waited for him to approach the entranceway to the dressing rooms before I opened the door to my stall.

"What do you think?" I asked as I emerged; my big boobs swaying to and fro as I twirled around for his appraisal. Jim looked slightly dumfounded, and was desperately trying to avoid staring at my scantily-clad body. Happily, his red-blooded voyeuristic impulses soon overtook his bashfulness and he proceeded to check me out rather thoroughly. I had to admit that I enjoyed toying with his healthy young libido.

"You look ... so sexy, Mrs ... I mean, Olivia," he gushed.

"Do you like it?" I asked coyly.

"Very much - you have an incredible body!"

"Why thank you. Then it's settled - I'll take it."

After changing back into my clothes, I came out to find the saleswoman chatting with Jim in front of a row of men's boxer-style suits. I was going to have none of that!

"Oh, no young man! I'm paying for it so I get to choose the style!" I turned to the woman: "Do you have something skimpy and sexy for my friend here?" The two of us shared a conspiratorial female giggle.

She then led us over to the men's bikinis and thongs and selected a high-cut retro-style bikini in a stretchy white lycra. I thought it was perfect and couldn't wait to my good-looking houseguest fill it out in the flesh. It was sized to fit Jim's slim waist, so off he went to try it on. After a few minutes had passed, the saleswoman emerged from the dressing rooms and headed back to the racks. She was covering her mouth with her hand and seemed to be suppressing a schoolgirl case of the giggles. She quickly grabbed a few more of the same white suit in different sizes. I asked her if there was any problem.

"Apparently it's too ... snug in the front," she said with a smirk.

I let a few more minutes pass and then stood and waited at the entranceway to the stalls. Jim finally said he'd found one that fit well enough.

"Can I see?" I asked.

With the woman and I standing there together, he stepped out of the stall. The first thing I noticed was how beautiful and muscular his smooth, hairless body was. But as I looked down, my jaw nearly dropped when I got a look at the ridiculously large bulge in the front of his bikini swimsuit. The woman and I exchanged knowing smiles.

"Ooh, la la!" I purred. "I had no idea you were concealing such a dangerous weapon!"

"Or at least one with a very big barrel!" added the woman. The two of us shared another giggle and Jim blushed.

We left the store with our purchases in hand, and I confess that I was a little jealous when Jim mentioned that the saleswoman had given him her phone number. But by the time I reached the car he had disappeared. I looked around but there was no sign of him. All of a sudden I heard someone standing behind me. Turning, I saw that it was Jim, holding a half-dozen beautiful, long-stemmed yellow roses.

"These are for you," he said, offering them to me. I was incredibly touched.

"You're so sweet," I gushed.

"Thank you for having me, Olivia," he said. Then, acting purely on impulse, I reached up and kissed him on the lips, and this time it was no tentative peck, but rather a slow, deliberate and passionate kiss. Afterward, we stood there momentarily looking into each other's eyes, saying nothing.

"Thank you for the flowers," I said, finally breaking the silence.

We drove home saying very little, and it was then that I had to admit to myself that I had developed a schoolgirl crush on my sexy young companion. Still, I was so incredibly torn: I knew that it was wrong and that I would be betraying my husband and my best friend, Hillary if I ever let anything happen. Yet my feelings for Jim had made me feel like a living, breathing woman for the first time in what felt like ages. To be sure, there was a great deal of good old-fashioned horniness that was contributing to my wavering sense of ethics. Not only was Jim both handsome and charming, with the body of a male model, but the way he filled out his swimsuit had made it all too obvious that he was also unusually well-endowed. My husband was not the most well-appointed man I'd ever met, and although I'd never experienced a man with a large penis before, the truth was that I had always fantasized about what that would be like. Seeing Jim in his bikini had convinced me that he was sufficiently well equipped to satisfy any woman's desire.

That night, after a romantic, candlelit dinner, the two of us said good night to each other and retreated to our respective bedrooms. But I couldn't get him out of my mind. I kept thinking of our kiss by the car that afternoon. Finally, I could resist no longer. Although realizing that I wasn't exactly playing fair, I made my way to Jim's bedroom on the other side of the house wearing only my lacy, Victoria's Secret bra and panties and a semi-sheer, kimono-style negligee - which I purposely left open.

I knocked at his door and a moment later he stood before me looking very sexy in nothing but a pair of black pajama bottoms that accentuated his flat tummy and broad shoulders. A few of his thick black locks hung in his eyes, but not so many that I couldn't make out his reaction to my brazen state of semi-undress. He was paying special attention to my breasts - which were almost spilling out of my underwire bra - as we sat down together on his bed.

"I had a wonderful time today," I said, to which he responded in kind. I suggested that we go swimming the next day and he agreed that it would be fun - we could both try out our new swimsuits. As I stood up to go, Jim's gaze shifted momentarily to the crotch of my panties and I felt an immediate dampness between my legs. Jim stood up with me as I motioned to go, and as he did, it became quickly apparent that he had developed a partial erection; the length of his penis was pressed against the pant leg of his pajama bottom. It looked impossibly big, but before I could get a good look he had sat down again in obvious embarrassment. I quickly sat back down with him and, sitting close, put my hand on his knee.

"Don't be embarrassed, sweetheart," I said softly, stroking his hair with my fingers. "Women find that incredibly flattering. Besides, it's the most natural thing in the world for a strong young man like you. I should have covered myself up more."

I paused, then added teasingly, "I hope it's a sign that you think I'm attractive."

"I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever met," he said, almost causing me to swoon. "I was pretty upset about breaking up with my girlfriend, but ... spending time with you has changed all that."

It was all I could do to tear myself away from him at that moment. I had to resist an overwhelming urge to make love to him right then and there. Instead, a part of my conscience forced me to face the realities of my situation. So rather than taking his hand and placing it on my breast as I wanted to do, I kissed him quickly on the cheek and dashed off to bed. I had an active dream-life that night; a series of erotic episodes images of well-endowed men inhabiting my sleep.

I awoke to find my hand nestled between my legs; my pussy still damp as a result of my lusty dreams from the night before. It was a beautiful day; sunny and hot. After lunch, Jim and I went to change into our new swimsuits. Feeling an extra tremor of excitement and anticipation that morning, I stood before the my full-length mirror, naked, tracing perfumed circles with my finger around the palm-size aureole of my huge breasts; drawing a line lengthwise along the neatly-cropped patch between my legs. I peeled on my racy Italian bikini, and, after a final visual assessment, headed for the pool - my tits heaving up and down almost comically as I skipped lightly down the stairs.

Jim was already poolside when I arrived, looking fantastic. His already tanned skin contrasted beautifully with his white suit. When I caught my first glimpse - in glorious profile - of the enormous wad in the front of his bikini, I knew it had been money well spent!

I'd brought two wine glasses and a bottle of chilled chardonnay with me. Since he was gracious enough to offer, I let him open the bottle while I knelt at the edge of the pool to gauge the temperature of the water. I could sense his staring eyes as I bent over and exposed my behind to him.

Together we stretched out under the hot midday sun on two of the cushioned deck recliners and toasted the good life. We covered ourselves in suntan lotion, did each other's back and supplicated ourselves beneath the sun god that sat high in the sky. Later, perhaps after having succumbed to the intoxicating effects of the wine and the sun's sensual caresses, I felt my inhibitions begin to melt away like the ice in my glass. Heedless of the risk I might be taking, and quickly losing ground to the powerful wave of lust that had been welling up inside me ever since Jim's arrival, I decided that I could no longer suppress the impulse to push our little summer idyll past the point of no return. I sat up and gazed upon his gorgeous body once more from behind the discreet safely of my dark sunglasses.

"Time for a swim," I said, making my way to the pool and slowly descending its marble steps before taking the plunge. Jim soon followed, diving in then swimming over to join me in the shallow end. The water beaded off our bodies. Jim looked positively smoldering with his dark hair slicked straight back. We playfully splashed each other like smitten teenagers; the air crackling with sexual tension. The water level only reached as high as his upper thighs and I could see that something awfully big was beginning to strain the thin, stretchy material of his suit. This time, however, rather than covering himself in embarrassment, he seemed to be quite at ease with providing me with such an unobstructed view of such an obvious sign of sexual arousal. I took it as my cue.

"Would you mind if I took off my top?" I asked. "I guess I spent too many summers in Europe where women all go topless at the beach."

He tried to act as non-plussed as he could but betrayed his boyish excitement nevertheless.

"Not at all," he answered with such affected nonchalance that I had to smile. "I think we have too many hang-ups when it comes to public nudity."

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byJulia K© 0 comments/ 153039 views/ 29 favorites

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