Love Comes to the Pool Party

The first time I saw Kat, I got a lump in my throat. When you meet some people, you just know they’ll be in your life going forward.

When I greeted her at the door, she made me nervous. Her short blond hair complimented her round face, and large blue eyes. When we were introduced I actually felt nervous, her bright smile unexpectedly overwhelming my heart.

Out back she walked around in her swimsuit. I found myself following her around like a puppy-dog. I scolded myself for being so obvious.

Eventually I found myself in the pool with Dan. Our kids hit it off, playing behind us in the pool while I rested at the edge just enjoying the moment.

Dan and his wife Marie were originally friends of my wife Jackie. Jackie had dated him before she met me. Jackie passed away the summer before. We’d been married for 14 years.

Kat had only been in the area for six months or so. She was a friend of Dan’s sister. When he asked me if I’d mind if she’d come, I didn't think twice about it, not realizing they were trying to play matchmaker.

Until I spoke with Dan, I was relegated to sneaking glances at her. I winked at him, told him she was a real looker. He asked me if I was interested and I looked at him with raised eyebrows asking if he was serious.

It didn't occur to me until that moment as to why she’d been invited. I couldn't believe my luck.

I asked him if she was married, and he laughed. Nope, her son’s dad was long gone from the picture. He seemed like a nice enough kid, 11 years old and polite.

She sat on a towel on the grass talking to other guests. Her teal colored swimsuit was still wet from swimming. As she chatted with Marie, I think she was oblivious to her immodest position. Her legs were crossed and like any red-blooded man, I eyed her pubic area. The hollow of the inside of her thigh blonde with hair that escaped the soft fabric of her swimsuit. The cloth itself hugging the rest of her hair covered vulva.

She'd only admitted to me later that she treated me to that view on purpose.

I was aroused and didn't leave the pool until she’d shifted.

I’d grilled already, so food was laid out on a table in the house, people grabbing what they wanted. It was a wonderfully lazy June day. My only real duty was pouring wine and beer. The girls helpfully picked up after everybody.

I was able to chat with Kat over drinks and connected with her.

As darkness fell, we coaxed the children out of water and into the house. A movie played in the family room.

In the living room we continued our conversation. I was a little buzzed, and she caught me looking at her.

Her nipples showed through her bikini top. I snuck glances at her belly button and the way her slinky hips rocked back and forth. I stared at the fabric of her swimsuit hugging her waist. I studied a birthmark on her leg. I was ogling her like a fool.

At one point she asked me a question, and when I went to answer, she spread her legs. Then she said, "Hey, my face is up here."

I turned red and she laughed, touching my forearm.

"Hey," she asked gently, "you have a wonderful house. Feel like giving me a tour?"

I happily offered her the tour, and we both went upstairs while the remaining guests milled about downstairs. Marie winked at me as I passed her.

Kat stopped me by the family photos, and I pointed out my wife and children. They had been hung with care when life had a different plan.

In the master bedroom she asked me if she could take a shower.

In truth at that moment she could have asked me to crawl on broken glass for her. I know, it sounds stupid, but I trusted the judgement of my friends as well as my gut. Somehow I knew she was the one.

I offered to go get her bags downstairs which had a change of clothes. Returning I saw her swimsuit, kicked off on the carpet outside the closed bathroom door. I heard the shower running.

I stood there briefly considering picking up the bottoms. I’m not some creeper, but it was tempting. I heard her voice asking me something unintelligibly from behind the door. I cracked the door and asked her to repeat herself. She was inviting me to shower with her.

My heart leapt. The next minute seemed like an eternity. I peeled off my trunks, embarrassed as my hard cock stuck straight out. I looked up.

“Somebody looks happy,” she said. It struck me as odd, my wife would have never said something like that, at least not after she had the kids. I certainly didn't blame her, it's just the way life goes.

In the shower Kat stood in front of me, a blonde patch of curly hair between her legs. My mouth was dry.

Her body was more MILF than hardbody, but that was part of the attraction. Somehow I knew I could depend on her, hold her, be at ease with her. Her breasts hung down lazily, a mother’s bosom. Her wide pelvis and legs, enchanted me.

Hers was a woman’s body. She sported a tan that ended abruptly at her white bikini line. A nude pale shadow of her swimsuit on her breasts and waist contrasted with the skin that had been exposed to the sun. The water sprayed off her as she soaped herself down.

I stepped into the shower, embarrassed at my aroused state, inexorably moving forward toward our fate. I wanted to grab her but restrained myself, instead grabbing a bottle of shampoo in a lame attempt at dignity.

As I lathered up my hair she took the bottle and poured some into the palm of her hand, reached out, and lathered my cock and balls. I inhaled sharply at her soapy hands electric touch. I thanked her. I couldn't believe this was happening. She was careful not to use too much, and used the detachable shower nozzle to rinse it off.

She knelt down before me, gripping my erection as she put it in her mouth; licking, sucking.

I closed my eyes and looked at the ceiling. Was this really happening?

I warned her that I’d cum if she didn’t stop.

“Do it,” she said, “Cum. Cum for me.”

I relaxed and released into her mouth. I felt almost sorry for her, but she seemed to enjoy it. She enjoyed the power, the control she had over me. She use the warm shower spray to rinse her mouth and joked with me at how much there was.

“Kiss me,” I said. She looked at me oddly because she’d just blown me, but I repeated, “Kiss me, I don’t care.”

She stood up and I planted gentle kisses on her lips, gradually becoming more forceful. I pushed her against the shower wall, driving my body into hers, pinning her.

The blood flowing back to my nether regions as I tasted her mouth, her tongue. The subtle aftertaste from her oral service crossed my lips.

I reached down and trailed my fingers through her blonde muff, the pads of my finger gently combing the tangles of her pubic area until I felt the soft fleshy rolls of her labia. I held back, caressing the outsides of her folds.

Water continued to spray on us. She ground her pelvis and groin into my hand. I pressed her into the wall, taking control.

Slipping my middle finger inside Kat, she gasped. She raised a leg in an attempt to give me deeper access. Her entrance was slick, but the temperature surprised me. Heat enveloped my finger and she seemed loose and slick.

I decided to also slide my ring finger into her, making a “come hither” motion as I searched out her G Spot. With my other hand I caressed her supple ass and those hips I’d longed to touch.

She begged me not to stop, so I continued until my wrist and arm ached. She’d been kissing my neck, when suddenly she gripped me hard, sucking on my shoulder, half biting, half moaning.

Eventually her grip loosened, and she tried to apologize.

I told her she’d have to make it up to me.

Wondering if I would get this chance again, I resolved to make love to her. I grabbed a towel and patted her dry, taking my time to stroke her legs, her back, her ass. I bent down and she laughed as I sucked on her mom nipples.

"I’m sorry," I grinned, "I just had to try."

"You can keep doing it," she answered softly, caressing my head.

“I have to have you,” I whispered in her ear. Was it a request or a command? It was a little of both.

I dried off and and saw her leaning against the bed looking at me quizzically. I smiled and kissed her, gently pushing her down. She slid into a missionary position and I grabbed her ankles, spreading her legs apart. She grinned naughtily, enjoying it.

I pressed the helmet of my penis against her slit and pushed. I thrust into her, my full weight on top of her, trapping her. As I kissed her, my chest pressed against her breasts.

I grabbed Kat’s hands and held them behind her. If by some strange reason she changed her mind, wanted me to stop, she would have been unable to. It was assault with a friendly weapon and she loved it, her moans increasing as her body jiggled back and forth.

I pulled out gently then thrust hard into her. She told me to keep doing that. As she cried out, I genuinely worried the rest of the house might hear.

I decided to take a little risk. I asked Kat if she was feeling adventurous and she nodded.

I led her to an ottoman at the foot of a leather reading chair I used for quiet time.

The ottoman had been a favorite of my wife’s. This method allowing both of us perhaps the easiest fuck both of us would have. It held precious memories for me that cruelly faded with time. I longed to use it again.

I instructed Kat to lean over it for support. She bent over, the fabric supporting her breasts and stomach. Her head hung down and she looked backward through the hollow bottom crying out in astonishment because I’d placed it in front of my mirrored sliding closet door.

Kat had never seen herself like this. I’d describe it as almost like she was able to watch a film of herself, her pert labia and clit exposed, vulnerable and all mine. Her freshly fucked hole was gaped. It shocked and excited her, as it had my wife when we stumbled on this method.

I mounted Kat, my cock and hairy balls pressing into her. The view was primal, savage.

She reached back and grabbed my shaft, pressing it to the folds of her labia. I knew where to put it in, her gaping pussy now obvious, but I let her guide it out of respect. I think she enjoyed watching it in the mirror. It fascinated her. Hell, it fascinated me.

I filled her, my cock gently sliding in, finding the path. The ottoman easily supported both of us. With my strong arms I could hold myself up, hovering over her in the perfect position as I pumped into her.

Again she moaned, telling me how great it felt. This kind of sex was remarkable in the lack of effort. There were no weird angles. I didn’t have to lean into her for support. Her body could rest as she enjoyed my hard cock railing her pussy, skin to skin. She gazed back at my shaft disappearing inside her, my hairy balls swinging to the beat of our fuck.

Because my strong arms supported me, the ottoman gently rocked back and forth. In this manner we copulated until I felt the tingle start, deep in my groin and along the bottom of my shaft. I picked up my pace as she bit her lip, trying not to scream. The tingle enveloped my entire hard penis.

My testicles spasmed and I finally hunched over her, forcing my cock deep into her as I squirted, then did it again as each squeeze became less potent.

I didn’t care if she got pregnant. I knew she was the one.

Afterward I helped wipe her off. We returned to the shower, laughing and wondering if we were too loud.

We descended the stairs, nobody acknowledging us, or giving us clues that they knew what we had done. I went into the kitchen and made her a cup of coffee and we talked the rest of the night. She and her son were the last guests to leave. We had to work the next day.

That evening, after I’d cleaned the place up, I sat in the leather chair contemplating the day. I closed my eyes and tried to picture her face. I stared at the ottoman and said a silent prayer, asking my dead wife for forgiveness.

That night I slept soundly, haunting memories of the past year abandoned. I’d like to think the prayer was answered.