Desert Oasis Ch. 08: Really Hot

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Could an unintended visitor derail couple's erotic getaway?
3.1k words
4.39
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Part 8 of the 14 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 09/27/2013
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Tah-ta-ta-tah-tah—tah-tah.

Tah-ta-ta-tah-tah—tah-tah.

"Oh, shit! That's probably Jillian."

Roused from a deep sleep by the familiar door knock rhythm, we jolted from bed. While the room was still well lit, the sun was descending. We'd slept much of the day away, something far too easily committed in the desert, we discovered.

We quickly threw on what clothes we could find. "Just a minute!" Bee called.

"OK," came a sweet muffled reply from the other side of the door.

We hurriedly straightened up the living room. I lit a scented candle provided by the hotel, hoping the open patio door and the candle's labeled fragrance of Palm Frond would quickly dissipate the scent of pussy and cum and fucking that I was panickedly convinced still hung in the air. The reason Bee and I were there was certainly no secret, but there's no need parade it, I thought.

Bee trotted from the master suite, hastily tying a black scarf around her hair, hoping to reign it in. She opened the door.

"Bee!" Jillian said, beaming, her shoulders curved in and her arms extended in a V.

"Hey baby! I am so glad to see you!" The two embraced tightly. Jillian emitted a comforted, "Mmm," revealing something therapeutic in her friend's hug, something more than just it's-been-awhile.

"How was the drive?"

"Oh...fine," Jillian replied, her voice stained with exhaustion and melancholy, revealing something, but nothing more than she wanted to.

Jillian's a tall, cool woman who always looks fabulous. Of Japanese heritage, her body structure displays a few generations of Western diet. She must be five-foot-seven when not in heels (a rare occurrence for her) and skeletally large; she doesn't have that delicate build that most Asian women have. But her Japanese lineage is manifest in her long torso, her narrow hips, flat butt, petite breasts, and rich, raven black hair that is always perfect.

"Hey, Gazzie," she said, giving me a politely warm hug.

"Hey there, Jillian. Welcome."

"It's so nice of you guys to let me stop by," she said appreciatively.

"Yeah, no problem. Our pleasure. Please, please, come in," I said, offering the villa to her. She stepped into the room.

Jillian has long fascinated me. There's a sophisticated urbanity and elegance about her, with a Southern charm mixed in with it. Case in point, she's been driving for heaven-knows how long, overnighting in some garden spot hotel along the I-10, yet there's carefree fluidity in her step and in the swish of her hips. She's been sitting in her car for seemingly endless hours, driving the desert freeway in summer, yet the sundress she chose to wear for the trip, an outfit nicer than what I would have chosen were I making this journey, hung perfectly on her. She embodies the best, most gracious, and genuine elements of having grown up in a Southern city.

"This place is fabulous, guys!" She walked to the patio door and surveyed the pool. "You have your own pool?" She asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, yeah we do. Cool, huh?" I replied. "Hey, can I get you something? Something to drink? Eat?"

With poise, she turned from the full-length window. "A water would be great. Thanks." She and Beatrix sat on the couch, each at an end, quickly assuming the girl-chat pose: legs curled up beneath them, sitting askew of their feet, one arm elongated atop the back of the couch, the other adding animation and color to their conversation, infrequently coming to rest in their laps.

I delivered a couple of waters and I took a seat in one of the overstuffed ivory chairs, listening to tales of family, friends, work, art, movies, theater, driving, books, fashion, celebrities. I contributed sporadically, but most I drank in the engrossing dynamic of these two friends bantering back and fro, and served as host, refilling drinks, bringing over the platter of fruit from breakfast that, thankfully, hadn't withered.

As the sun waned closer to the mountains, Jillian gazed to the patio and, stretching with her arms extended above her head, her fingers entwined, elongating her body, said, "I think I want to jump in the pool."

"Yeah, yeah, please. Go for it," I said, accommodatingly.

As she stood, she gently summoned Bee over and conferenced in hushed tones. At its conclusion, Jillian let out a quiet but exuberant, "Yay!" and jumped up and clapped, a surprisingly girlie reaction for her. She bounded into the powder room on the balls of her feet. Bee rounded the corner into the master suite and, with her left hand on the doorjamb, looked at me slyly before vanishing.

Bee emerged first, fully nude. She strode to me. I could see the dried artifacts of our morning's dalliances. Standing by my chair, she drew her right hand up my right cheek, before bending to kiss me fully, profoundly on the lips. My cock began to swell. I placed my hand on her belly, covering her navel. Her skin was cool and powdery smooth. I stroked my thumb across her, feeling the downy fine hair that mantles her abdomen. We heard the powder room door click. Bee broke from me, righted herself and, without turning, peered over her right shoulder. Jillian exited in equal undress, her sundress perfectly folded. She walked insouciantly to the entryway and carefully placed her dress on top of her bag, displaying more concern for her garment than her nakedness.

I, however, was staggered. Striving for nonchalance, I guzzled what I could of her before tipping into lecherous, discomfiting gawking. Her skin was a sumptuously lovely shade of condensed milk, marked by the deep umeboshi of her nipples and the long, stiff, rich glossy black blades of her pubic hair, which, in the way they stood out, coupled with the noticeable lack of reddened channels along her upper thighs and hips, made me wonder if she had worn any undergarments beneath her frock at all, which further elicited the thought, is that how she usually dresses, or was this special? And if special, is it something she did of her own accord, or was it a plan hatched earlier today on the phone, and perhaps more importantly, why? Her belly was smooth, contoured by gentle curves of her waist and abdominal muscles.

She walked briskly toward Bee, who smiled warmly. Jillian caught Bee's left arm with her right, and together marched to the pool. I sat, baffled, attempting to recatch my breath and restart my heart. I breathed deeply through my nose and exhaled steadily through my mouth, meditating on the nudist's code: act no differently in the nude than you would clothed; no physical display of arousal. I breathed deeply again, and with a resolved slap on both armrests, I rose. I poured a trio of wines and, cradling the stemware in my left hand, strode out to the patio. Stepping over the threshold, what a site to behold. Both ladies were waist deep in the water in the shallow end, leaning back on their elbows on the pool's edge. The body contrast was captivating, Bee's heavy mocha breasts poured vixenly off her chest, while Jillian's dainty breasts sat high and pert.

"Ladies...," I said as I approached, setting the wine glasses by them. Both turned and looked up.

"Thank you," said Jillian demurely.

"Aw, thanks, baby," Bee said. "Why don't you join us?"

"Nah, I'm good. I'll let you ladies chat."

"Oh, come on," Bee retorted.

"You sure?" I asked hesitantly, and as if on cue, both widened their eyes and nodded affirmatively, conveying that it's OK and that I'm being foolish.

"OK. I'll be back." I returned to the master and stripped. I looked down and, relieved, I was not erect. But I also discovered that just enough blood had poured into my cock to lengthen and thicken it appreciatively, which gave me a faint charge. While I doubt this will lead to anything, I thought, I'd like for her to be impressed.

I returned, walking straight for the pool steps. Both ladies tracked my return. In my periphery, I caught Jillian lingering on my genitals as I immersed myself. Submerged to my ribs, I turned, pushed off the bottom step and swam on my back to the opposite end. Touching the wall, I spun and dove, swimming the length of the pool underwater. I opened my eyes so as not to scrape the bottom or slam my head into the wall. As a bonus, however, I was privileged to a wondrous, albeit blurred, view of both women's lower halves: Bee's cinnamon brown curls framed by her zaftig hips, and Jillian's lissome hips with a calligrapher's brushstroke of pubic hair at the focus. I surfaced and, wiping the water from my face, paddled to the perpendicular wall near them. Watching them talk, their chests rising and falling with their breath, Jillian's breasts joggling when she's animated and laughs, the bottom of Bee's breasts kissed by the water as it laps up against her, caused my cock to grow. I could feel my cock swelling below the water's surface. The fear that they might ask me to get out of the pool to get them something only made my cock harder, defying and mocking me as I struggled to maintain decorum. Soon, I was involved in their conversation, and as the spirited discussions sufficiently filled my mind, my cock slackened.

Our talk paused. Jillian took a couple of steps and dove into the water. Fleetingly, the glorious curves of her ass surfaced and just as quickly disappeared. She returned to the surface and swam a relaxed crawl to the far end. As she swam, I drifted over to Bee.

"So, have I made it up to you?" She asked smugly.

"Yes, I have to admit, this is very cool."

"Does sir enjoy having an attractive Asian woman hanging around naked?"

"Yeah, I thought having her around would ruin our time, but this," gesturing toward her friend, "this is delightful," I said gleefully.

"Mmm, just don't forget why we're here," she said balefully, reaching underwater and grabbing my cock in her hand, giving me a cautionary squeeze.

I raised my hands imparting that no foul would be committed.

A few moments later Jillian returned and stood, wiping her hands over her head to wick the water out of her hair. I stared transfixed at her breasts.

"Hello," she said to me snarkily. I was caught.

"Sorry," I apologized sheepishly.

"It's OK," and, looking at Bee, they both giggled.

The sky was awash in a great palate of pastels; light blue, orange, green, some violet. Dinnertime was upon us.

"Hey, is anybody hungry?" I asked, the change of subject getting me off the hook.

There was a consensus.

"Do we want to go out, or should we get room service?" The latter won unanimously, so I hopped from the pool, grabbed a towel and padded inside to place the order. I hung inside, letting the ladies have some time to themselves, as I waited for the food.

Within the hour, there was a knock at the door. A perfunctory, "Room Service," came from the other side.

"Yep, just a minute," I said as I sprang up. I popped my head out to the patio: "Ladies, the food's here." There was another, harder knock on the door. "Yeah, yeah, hang on." The ladies scampered from the pool, which was in view of the front door, to the sundeck shower, which was obscured. Bee clasped her breasts as she ran. Jillian's legs revealed more tone than I had expected, giving her ass a little more shape. The ladies safe from view, I turned, donned a robe and answered the door.

Signing the bill and bidding the bellboy a good evening, I stepped back outside. Finding them soaping up in the desert dusk, I asked, "Do we want to eat inside or out?"

"Oh, I don't care."

"Makes no difference."

"How about outside, then?" I proposed. "It's a lovely night."

I set the plates on the patio table, brought out place settings, a pitcher of water, the bottle of wine we corked earlier, and a couple of candles. I stepped just inside to flick on the pool lights, preferring their ambient glow to the patio sconces' harshness. I walked to the pool's edge to retrieve our wine glasses, and heard the water shut off. In near synchronicity, Bee and Jillian patted themselves off and turbinned their hair in towels. Both walked over, confidently tall, and, each grabbing a chair, sat nude at the table. We ate, drank, and continued our lively conversations. I soon shed the robe, finding the heavy, absorbent terry too warm outside.

At the meal's end, we sat back, digesting, our discussions mellowing. Jillian excused herself. Turning her body toward me as she stood, I snatched an inspiring view of her body. My gaze trailed, focused on her ass, her silhouette, as she stepped into the villa.

She returned with a bottle of private label bourbon. "This is my dad's friend's company. He runs a really small distillery just outside Memphis. It's more a hobby than a business, I think, 'cause he gives most of it away to his friends. But anyway...my dad gave me a couple of bottles. I don't really like whiskey, but this stuff is really good."

"I'll get some ice and glasses," I said, taking the opportunity to face Jillian as I stood. I got a deviously playful smirk from Bee that said, "You're not so slick, buck-o."

I set three lowballs with ice on the table. Somewhere between brazen exhibitionism and when-in-Rome, I stood by Jillian, unsealed the bourbon and poured. She and Bee were fully engaged in conversation, so it's doubtful that Jillian paid me any attention. But the thought that my cock was pendent less than a couple of feet away from her exhilarated me. I distributed the glasses and, retaking my seat, proposed a toast. "Jillian! Welcome. Glad you made it here safely. ¡Salud!"

With a detreating smile and a sparkle in her eye, she raised her glass. "Thanks, you guys."

We sat, sipped, relaxed and talked. I drank in these beautiful women as much as I could, their busts just visible above the tabletop. Jillian soon repositioned herself, curling her left leg under her, bring her right knee to her chest. Her breast kissed her thigh. I was transfixed. My mind wandered to the morning distractions, when, in the chair I was sitting in, Bee lifted her legs, her boldly revealed womanhood entreating me. But the heat and the spirits were taking their toll. Suddenly cloaked in fatigue's heavy vest, I threw back the last of my bourbon and, excusing myself, said, "Ladies, feel free to keep on talking, but I'm about to pass out. I'm going to shower and go to bed." I walked to Bee. "Good night. I'll see you inside," I said before kissing her and unconsciously cupped her left breast as I did. I turned to Jillian. "Make yourself at home. And," addressing both of them, "sleep well and I'll see you both in the morning."

"OK, good night."

"Good night."

I took a quick shower, wanting to get the chlorine off of me and out of my hair, but all I wanted to do was get horizontal. I inattentively dried myself, lurched toward the bed, fell on it, and, hugging a pillow, passed out.

I woke about half an hour later, judging by the time on the clock, and heard Jillian and Bee still chatting it up outside. I rolled onto my right side, and tumbled into unconsciousness again.

I woke again and found Bee cuddled up next to me, her back to me, her ass nuzzled against my hip. I rolled to spoon up behind her. As I draped my right arm over her, I felt something smooth, soft and cool. Startled, I rose up on my left arm. Just past Bee I found Jillian stretched long on the bed, her arms above her head, bent at the elbows, one leg straight, the other crooked at the knee like a mathematical symbol. In the warm glow of the property lights, I could make out her mahogany nipples, her oval navel, the thick black patch of her pubic hair, and the alluring lines of her legs.

Bee woke, sensing my movement. "Shhh," she whispered. I furrowed my brow and lifted my shoulders and right hand, silently querying, "What's she doing here?"

Bee whispered, "Neither of us felt like unfolding the sofa bed in the living room, so I told her she could sleep with us. I didn't think you'd mind." My cock swelled rapidly, uncurling and pressing into her thigh. "Thought so."

I lay back down, quietly kissing her shoulders. I slid my right hand up her body, under her arm, finding her right breast and giving it a squeeze as I pressed it into her ribs, and in doing so, pressed her to me. She let out a muffled, breathy "Ahh." I shifted my hips, my cock settling between the globes of her ass. I toyed her tautening nipple with my thumb, feeling it harden. I kissed her neck. I extended my tongue, faintly tasting her saltiness. She reached between us and grabbed my cock, angling it between her legs. The swollen head pressed against her heated vulva. Lifting her right leg slightly, she reached down and pressed my cock between her lips, slipping just the head inside her.

An awkward angle and not wanting to wake our guest, we couldn't really move. Lying still, we flexed our muscles, her entry's ring gripping me yearningly, my cock surging, bloating and jerking between her lips.

She whispered, "Does sir like having two naked women in his bed?" In concert, I tensed my cock hard and pinched her nipple in reply, prompting a sharp but stifled "Mhhhh!" We continued flexing our muscles. Her cunt was milking the head of my cock. At my command, my turgid cock pulsed rhythmically between her lips. She reached up behind her and ran her fingers through my hair. I pressed my hips to her ass and dug my fingers into her right breast. She released my head and grabbed my ass, pressing her to me. The electricity of her touch on my ass and the illicit thrill of her cunt around my cock as her friend slept soundly next to us tripped me. I came, my cock convulsing, shuddering just inside her. In succession, I felt her cunt pulse and quiver around the head of my cock, signaling that she orgasmed too.

We sank into the bed, unwinding, trying to control our breathing. Jillian stirred, and we froze. Shifting on the bed, she brought her right hand to rest atop her mound, saying groggily, "You guys are really hot together," and summarily fell back asleep.

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