The Beach House Ch. 01

Chapter 1: Gabriella

A few years after we got married, my wife and I came into some money unexpectedly, and were able to buy a country house. It was the classic American beach house: bikes in the garage, an outdoor shower, a sunny vegetable patch, and all of it a pleasant walk from the delightful sandy beach where we spent afternoons with our children. For 27 years we've spent weekends there, plus as much of each summer as possible. So it was with mixed feelings that we finally decided to sell the place this year, in preparation for buying a home for our retirement.

Preparing to sell the place has brought back a flood of memories, none tastier than the private recollections of all the girls I've had here. Some were during the year when my wife and I were separated; most were right under her nose. Naturally I feel guilty about the philandering which I've carefully kept from her for nearly three decades, but I still thrill to the thought of each tasty young thing who I've had in our beach house. In the garage, in the outdoor shower, in the garden, in the bedroom. Let me tell you about some of them.

1. Gabriella

After our third child was born, my wife suggested the unthinkable: hiring an au pair to come and live with us. Au pairs were the stuff of legend, like stewardesses and French maids -- the words alone conjured an image of a busty Swedish girl in a pink angora sweater, and the thought of having one in the house was indescribably arousing. I couldn't wait!

Of the three girls we interviewed, Gabriella was the one my wife hired, during a week when I was travelling on business. I prepared myself for the inevitable disappointment of seeing the woman who wasn't my fantasy made flesh, but was shocked to be introduced to the sexy thing my wife had hired: Gabriella, 5'8" of Milanese beauty, with a killer figure and a sense of style to match. I couldn't stop staring at her lips during our first meeting, those wide, succulent lips painted to the most alluring shade of dark red, perfectly set off by a dark maroon dress that flattered her in all the right places. My fantasies began immediately.

Three months had passed when we all set out for the beach house. By this time I'd built an elaborate fiction in my mind involving me and Gabriella, urged on by the thousand little things she'd said, and the thousand little moments we'd shared, all of which I vainly interpreted as flirting. We'd find our hands touching as we absently reached for something at the table, and when I'd look at her I'd find her eyes fixed directly on mine. Her imperfect English would produce the occasional saucy remark that I'd think about for days. I thought about her when I made love to my wife, and I fucked her hardest on the nights I thought about Gabriella.

Our last weekend of the summer, Gabriella and I were at home with the baby while my wife took our two older kids on an errand. We were divvying up a variety of errands (she washed the kids clothes, I cleaned the rain gutters) when the washing machine gave out. She came up from the basement to tell me the news, and from my perch on the ladder I listened vaguely as my eyes traced the outline of her breasts against her damp t-shirt. We spent some time in the basement together trying to remedy the problem -- I turned various knobs behind the machine, while getting a good look down Gabriella's top -- before we decided to call it quits. Together we hauled the soaking laundry upstairs, and proceeded to finish washing it together in the kitchen sink.

We had a lot of fun that afternoon, all laughs and soapy hands, and the times her hands accidentally caressed my arms in the warm water were only topped by my frequent reaching for paper towels, which brought our bodies closer and closer together. I found myself getting more presumptuous: my arm would casually graze her breasts, a hand would steady her shoulder, once I stroked an errant soap bubble off her nose, and she smiled. I thought I felt her coming on to me, though I couldn't tell for sure; I certainly hoped she was. At one point, I'd just snapped off my rubber gloves, and was standing behind her (conspicuously close, my cock fully erect), when she gently leaned back against me. If my cock could have gotten any harder, it did: the sight of this sexy young girl's soft ass, encased in an unbelievably tight pair of khaki shorts, pressing back against me -- she arched her back, leaning back into me, and my hands instinctively came up to cup her breasts. She kissed me tenderly on the cheek, smiled into my eyes, and sighed as I moved to kiss her lips, then her mouth, deeply, then more deeply, and then she was turned around with her hands behind my neck and her breasts against my body and her knee sidling up my thigh -- when my wife pulled into the driveway. Gabriella quickly turned around and splashed about with the laundry (it was the only time I ever saw her blush), and I raced into the bathroom to deal with my hardon.

Before my wife had even made it to the door I could hear her arguing with the kids about something, and that was enough to end my arousal. I walked out into the kitchen to relieve her of some grocery bags, when she announced that we'd be taking the kids to the beach -- I took this to be the negotiated peace of some long argument in the car. She went upstairs to change, and I went outside to get our beach towels off the line. My head pounded with the thought of the unfinished moment I'd almost had.

The kids were still screaming at each other when I headed back to the house with the stack of towels, and ran into Gabriella walking toward me. She was in a bathing suit I'd never seen -- jet black, high on the hips, with a scoop neck that flattered her awesome bustline. Her nipples were loudly erect, and her lips were moist -- she was walking sex. We passed each other in front of the outdoor shower, when a finger casually caught my shirt -- I turned, and she hooked me into the outdoor shower. Kids and wife had taken the screaming to the next level when Gabriella kissed me deeply, closing the door behind us, and reviving my hardon in an instant. She was kissing me, and kissing me, and then I was sitting down on the shower's teak seat, lifejackets and canoe paddles to one side, bottles of shampoo and waterwings to the other, and in the middle of this domestic tableau this sexy young girl was pulling down my trunks, running her fingers down the length of my cock, and then smiling as she kissed the head, kissing it gently, then kneeling before me, and with a greater hunger closing her eyes and taking my head into her mouth, and then going down on me HARD. My eyes were transfixed by the greatest sight of my entire life, this beautiful young girl with her mouth full of my cock, hungrily taking me deeper and deeper into herself. The upstairs screaming escalated even further as Gabriella's tight lips drew away from my cock, pausing by the tip as she gave me a conspiratorial smile, and then, pressing their softness to the head of my cock, engulfing me once more with a warmth and wetness that made my entire body tingle. Her middle finger gently traced the bottom of my cock as she went down on me all the way, and with every passing moment I wondered if I was going to erupt -- I'd never come from a blowjob before, but I knew I was going to today. She sucked me, licked me, she gently ran her teeth across my pulsing skin, and she took me all the way into her mouth.

Suddenly my wife was hollering down for me, and as I yelled back a response my cock involuntarily flexed -- Gabriella giggled around my cock, and made a loud slurp. When my wife yelled, "how much longer are you going to be?" Gabriella made a stifled laugh, and then she answered the question for us both: looking me in the eye, her mouth still half full of my stiff cock, she crossed her arms before her, reached up, and with her thumbs casually undid the straps of her swimsuit. The full view of her perfect young breasts was all it took: I saw her tiny pink aureolas, her achingly stiff nipples, and the tautness of her twenty year old breasts. My hand reached for the back of her head involuntarily, and I came in her mouth. Hard.

Time stood still. In the distance I'm sure there were conversations about lost toys and swimtrunks; for me, there was only this sexy young thing, her lips glistening with my come, giving me the kindest smile I have ever received. I reached down to wipe her lips with my thumb, and she took my hand in both of her own, closing her eyes as she sucked my thumb as she had my cock. Releasing my hand, she squeezed my cock lovingly, and another drop of come came to the surface -- she licked this up, gobbling it, really -- and smiled at me once again. She stood up, adjusted her swimsuit, wiped her mouth with her fingers, and left the shower. Within thirty minutes she was playing with our kids at the beach, as my wife leafed through a magazine. Within a week, she was gone.

Next time, I'll tell you about Helen.