by Baron Sord
When I got closer, I finally saw the house. It had a refined Japanese modern style. Stained woods and straight lines and very high end. Between the house and her new Mustang GT, Stazia was doing quite well for herself.
Yes, people who worked in sales always made more money than the schlubs who worked in QA testing the product the beautiful salespeople sold. And the world kept on turning.
One of the wooden double front doors opened as I stepped onto the low wood porch.
“Heeeeeey, you,” Stazia drawled.
I was speechless.
She stood there barefoot in a skimpy black bikini, tan from head to toe. Her body was better than I had ever imagined. Her long blonde hair was tied up in a loose bun on top of her head and she wore less makeup than at work — just some eye liner — but she was still stunning. She almost looked better without makeup, if that was even possible.
I couldn’t help but stare at her body. Good thing I wore baggy khaki pants and an XXL T-shirt hanging over my waist because I was instantly raging.
She said, “I was just catching some rays. Wanna join me?” She held a glass of wine in her hand and pointed behind her into the house.
“Oh, uh, I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” I muttered dumbly.
“Nobody can see into my yard,” she said coyly.
Unless I was reading her wrong, that was clearly code for, “Take your clothes off as soon as you get inside.”
When Stazia turned around and walked into the house, I saw that her bikini bottom was the thinnest thong ever made.
Her ass was perfect.
How had I gotten so lucky?
—: o o o :—
“Can I get you something to drink?” Stazia offered as we walked through the house.
“Water sounds good,” I said. The sugar in alcohol would likely intensify the distress calls. That was the last thing I wanted.
“How about ice water?”
“Sure.”
The kitchen was as refined as the outside of the house. Everything about it was custom built and the interior designer knew what they were doing. Yeah, every aspect of the house was soothing… except Stazia. She was the diametric opposite of soothing. She was 100% pure sexual excitement.
Stazia took a glass pitcher of ice water from the fridge. An assortment of fruit slices floated in it. She poured me a tall glass and offered it with a friendly smile, “Here ya go.”
“Thanks,” I said, drinking half of it in one swallow.
“Drink all you want,” she winked. “There’s more where that came from.” It was clearly a flirt.
I couldn’t keep my eyes off her and her black thong bikini.
“Mmm,” she grinned and sipped her wine with a knowing smile.
Oddly, although I could literally read Stazia’s mind, her thoughts were again a jumble, a collection of random sentence fragments and scattered emotions that raced by. I couldn’t get a read on them.
But I could get a read on her.
Her emerald eyes glimmered with desire. She said, “It looks like you’re over the flu.”
“Oh, yeah. I feel great. But it was pretty hairy there for a few days,” I lied. “I’m all good now.”
“I can tell,” she said, licking her top teeth with her pink tongue when she said her LLs.
LL.
No, I was not going to think about her now. She’d made her disinterest perfectly clear.
Stazia said, “Shall we get some sun?”
“Love to,” I said.
She led me to her backyard. It was caged in by tropical plants on all sides. No view of anything except greenery. And fricking Stunning Stazia Wilcox.
Several wooden lounge chairs with cushions were arranged around an impressive fountain and koi pond located at the back of the yard. Two adjacent loungers were covered by long white beach towels.
“Take your shirt off,” Stazia said casually as she sat on one toweled lounger.
I wasn’t going to say no. I peeled my T-shirt over my head and draped it over the back of the other toweled lounger.
Stazia shook her head and rolled her eyes, “How many days a week do you work out?”
I chuckled, “Too many.” I wasn’t going to say I never worked out since getting my powers, but I couldn’t tell her that. Not with a body like mine. She’d never believe me.
“It shows,” she grinned.
Still wearing my khaki pants and boots, I sat down on the toweled lounger next to hers. With all the distress calls I handled, I tended to wear boots whenever I went any distance from home out of habit. And no, I had not thought any of this through. I just came here as fast as I could for obvious reasons.
She said, “Don’t you want to take your boots off and get comfortable?”
“I guess so.” I leaned over and unlaced them. Set them and my socks aside. Kicked my legs up onto the lounger and laced my fingers behind my head.
Felt the hot sun wash over me and listened to the water splashing in the fountain.
Stazia sat there staring at me while squirting suntan lotion into her hand from a bottle and massaging it all over her chest, shoulders, arms, and stomach.
Her breasts bounced hypnotically the entire time.
All I could do was watch them bounce from the corner of my eye.
She frequently smiled at me out the corner of her eye. Bent over to lotion her legs, which showed off her cleavage to full effect.
“Do you need any lotion?” she asked when finished.
“I’m good,” I said. Ever since getting sun at Heph’s airport, I had discovered I couldn’t get a sunburn.
“You are pretty tan. Let me know if you need any.” She set the bottle down and stretched out on her lounger like a lioness. With her blonde mane of hair and tan skin, she certainly had the coloring down.
I desperately wanted to tear her bikini off and get down to business, but I didn’t. I had to figure out how to cross the bridge between me and her and the sex she obviously wanted as badly as I did.
A minute later, she glanced over at me and said, “Don’t you want to take your pants off?
“Ahhh…” I chuckled. “I sort of have a hard on.”
“Oh my God, Doug!” she laughed. “I can’t believe you said that!”
“Me neither,” I grinned. “It’s your fault, in case you were wondering.”
“My fault?” she snickered.
“Look at you,” I smiled.
“Look at me? Look at you! You’re the body builder model. Haven’t I seen you on the cover of Men’s Fitness?”
“No,” I chuckled.
“You should be. Have you ever done any modeling?”
“No.” Because this body was brand new to me, and I wasn’t entirely sure how long it would last. There was no guarantee my powers or my looks were permanent.
“I know a guy in LA who can hook you up with an agent if you ever want to do any.”
“Modeling? I don’t think it’s my thing. I don’t like having my picture taken.” Because there was a warrant out for my arrest.
She rolled over onto her stomach, crossing her arms on the lounger. She rested her cheek on wrist and grinned at me, “You sure are a strange one.”
“Blame the comic books.”
“Mmm. Can you get my back for me?”
“What?”
“My back. I don’t want it to burn.” She reached behind her back and untied the bikini strings and let them fall to the lounger. Her large natural breasts swelled impressively to the sides of her slender ribcage.
“Oh, uh…” I knew exactly what she wanted.
Putting lotion on her back would include putting lotion on her ass, which was not covered by her thong even a little bit.
This situation had now officially become every man’s fantasy, including mine. I suspected this was also Stunning Stazia Wilcox’s fantasy, and I was the object of her desire.
I’ve said it before and I will say it again: how had I ever gotten so damn lucky?
—: Chapter 38 :
—
“Ooooh my Gaaaaawd, that feels soooo goood. Mmm, hmm,” Stazia moaned. “Just like that.”
I was sitting on the edge of her lounger, still wearing my khaki pants while giving her a neck massage. I had already worked the lotion into her shoulders, but now I was distracted with giving her an actual massage. Since she wasn’t complaining, I wasn’t stopping.
“You’re sure good with your hands,” she said, eyes closed. After a few more minutes of enjoying my massage, she opened one eye in a thin slit and peered at me seductively. “Don’t forget the rest of me.”
“Wouldn’t want that,” I chuckled. Picked up the bottle of lotion and spurted more into my hands before smearing the lotion down her back.
I couldn’t stop looking at the little dimples just above her thong.
Stazia had an amazing ass.
The best I’d ever seen.
And now…
I ran both hands forcefully down her back, hips, then pressed firmly against her ass with the heels of my hands.
…the best ass I’d ever touched.
“Mmm, hmm,” Stazia moaned.
I was dying to pop out of my pants. Twitching to the point of release, but I couldn’t quite get there.
Not that I was in a hurry.
I was in ass heaven.
Yeah, I could massage Stazia’s flawless tanned ass for hours and not get bored. I couldn’t get over the incredible smoothness of her skin. Like satin or something.
Once I’d massaged enough suntan lotion into her ass to block the rays of a nearby supernova, I massaged lotion into her legs and finished with her feet.
“Ohhhh, yesss,” she purred. “Definitely the feet. Men have no idea what I put them through wearing my heels.”
“I can imagine,” I chuckled. “Don’t worry. When I’m done with them, they’ll feel like butter.”
“Mmm, hmm,” she moaned with languid ease. “I like the sound of that.”
I liked the sounds she was making.
In a word, orgasmic.
I’d known for years how much women liked getting foot massages. Although my ex Sleazy Gigi hadn’t been good for my ego, I had honed my massage skills on her feet. If being betrayed by her in college was the price I had to pay to be able to skillfully massage Stazia’s stunning feet now, it was worth every moment of frustration and pain I had endured way back when. As always, Gigi could bite me.
I hid a grin while continuing to caress Stunning Stazia’s beautiful feet. No surprise, her delicate toes had immaculate French nails to match her fingers.
Some time later, I finally finished with her feet, leaving me nothing left to massage on her back side.
“How’s that?” I asked.
“Oh my God, Doug. I think I’m ready for a nap.”
“That’s cool. Do you want me to go?”
“Are you kidding?” She giggled. “I want you to stay.”
“Oh.”
She turned over on the lounger, holding her untied bikini top to her breasts with her arm so it didn’t slip away. But she didn’t bother to tie it.
I could see side-boob for days.
“That was fabulous,” Stazia moaned.
She slowly stretched her arms luxuriantly above her head and arched her back, which brought full attention to her breasts. “Mmm, mmm, mmm.”
My eyes were pinned on the bikini top, waiting for it to slip off.
It did not.
The strap behind her neck was still tied.
Stazia relaxed back against the lounger and looked at me for a moment. “What about my girls?”
“Your what?” Did she have daughters? She’d told me two weeks ago she wasn’t married and didn’t have a boyfriend, but that didn’t exclude the possibility of her having kids.
“My girls.” Stazia reached behind her neck and pulled on the neck straps, stretching them out with exquisite slowness. Let them drop. Reached back behind her neck with slender fingers and finished untying the bow. Then, with one hand, she casually tossed her top aside.
Her eyes flicked down to her breasts where her nipples were tight knots pointing skyward.
She purred, “My girls need some love too.”
“Oh,” I chuckled. “Those girls. You want me to, uh, massage them?”
“For starters…” She raised one hand and curled her index finger in a “come hither” gesture.
I planted my arms on either side of her and lowered my lips to hers.
This kiss was ten times better than the day we’d met. Not as hurried or jarring. It was deep, slow, sensual, and sexual. I never wanted it to end.
“Mmmmmm,” Stazia moaned in my mouth.
I was throbbing to be inside this woman.
…Stop it! Let me go! Help! Stop! Don’t!
Oh no.
Not now.
…Shut your fucking mouth, bitch! Or I will fucking kill you!
I suddenly tensed.
…No don’t! Please don’t do this! Please let me go! I won’t tell anyone! I swear! Please!
…I’ll fucking kill you if you do!
…Please stop! Please! Ple-e-e-e-e-ase!
The distorted echoey words broke down into hitching sobs. Obviously female.
The other voice was distinctly male. Angry, hateful, and afraid.
I’d never heard a distress call like this before, not one with two voices clearly worried about two very different things, but clearly intertwined.
She was afraid of getting raped and he was afraid of getting caught.
Based on the intensity of both of them, this distress situation was going to happen fairly soon.
“Doug?” Stazia said. “Is something wrong?”
“I…” pulled my lips away from hers and squeezed my eyes shut tight. There was no possible way I could explain this to Stazia. Not in the time I had to take action to prevent a rape.
My hard-on was already fading.
There was no possible way I could ignore the distress call of a woman being raped simply so I could have sex with Stazia.
I would never forgive myself if I did.
I sat up on the lounger and grit my teeth, “Stazia, I have to go.” I stood up slowly.
“What’s wrong?! Doug?! What is it?! You look… What’s going on?!” She sat up, her face strained with concern.
“I’m sorry, I have to go.” I grabbed my boots, socks, and T-shirt and walked quickly through her house, holding my clothes without stopping to put anything on.
“Doug?! Where are you going?! Doug?!” Stazia trotted up behind me and grabbed my wrist. “Doug! Tell me what’s wrong!”
I almost ripped my arm free from her grasp, but I didn’t want to accidentally hurt her. I stopped and turned and said in a calm, cool voice, “Stazia, I have to do something very important right now. That’s all I can say. Please let go of my wrist.”
She frowned in total confusion, shaking her head in disbelief.
“Stazia. Please let go.”
“Okay,” she hissed, throwing my wrist away from her like it was on fire.
I spun around and ran out of her house, scowling to myself.
—: Chapter 39 :—
Loud music blared from the house as I drove past it in Arnold’s Prius. I was heading slowly down a suburban street in College East, which was the neighborhood located just east of San Diego State University.
The driveway of the loud house had four cars parked in it. The bottom two blocked the sidewalk. More cars were crammed together on both sides of the street as far as I could see in both directions.
Sounded like a house party.
I saw the Greek letters mounted on the garage door.
Correction.
It was a frat party.
I drove to the end of the street, turned twice, and found parking several blocks away. Pulled on my ninja mask and ran back to the house at 30mph, not caring who might see me.
…Stop it! Let me go! Help! Stop! Don’t!
…Shut your fucking mouth, bitch! Or I will fu
cking kill you!
The distress calls were vibrant and clear.
I knew I was running late. Although traffic had been light and I’d gone 50-60mph the entire way here, the drive from Encinitas was almost 30 miles. To speed things along, I had been constantly changing lanes trying to go around slower cars — even driven in the emergency lane a few times — but it hadn’t made any difference. Getting out and running wouldn’t have helped either because I still couldn’t run faster than about 50mph full out. In short, I couldn’t have made it here any faster without a helicopter. Perhaps Arnold’s suggestion that I get a helicopter pilot’s license was not as ridiculous as I had first thought. The only problem would be landing. I certainly couldn’t land a helicopter here in this suburban neighborhood.
At any rate, I knew I had minutes or less until the rape happened.
When I got to the front door of the frat house, I twisted the knob and it opened.
Music exploded in my face.
A dozen college-age faces in the entry hall turned to look at me. All of them held blue or gold plastic SOLO cups, no doubt full of beer. Behind them, the living room was packed with another hundred kids. Dozens more spilled out into different hallways and the back yard. Half of them wore SDSU T-shirts, shorts, or hats.
The eyes of the kids in the entry hall practically popped out of their heads when they saw me.
Huge guy in a ninja mask — me — crashes your party?
Not a good sign.
Three big guys who looked like football players and wore SDSU Aztecs T-shirts saw me immediately and stepped toward me when I entered the entry hall.
I pushed past them and headed for the stairs.
“Yo, yo, yo!” One of the footballers shouted. “You can’t come in here!”
His baller buddies were right behind him. Altogether, probably 700 pounds worth of college athlete charged me.
As always, time slowed down for me but not them. I dodged the first footballer as he flew at me. He went flying out the front door. Second baller came in low. I grabbed him by the back of the head and threw him down to the linoleum floor of the entryway. He crashed into it with a hollow boom. Third baller came in high. I was already low, so I planted my hand and forearm under his chest, hooked my other arm between his legs, spun, and body-slammed him behind me. He landed on the second baller and I was on the move again.
