Anna Maria Island

by O'Donnell, Jennifer

  Chapter 4

  My husband couldn't come down that Friday night. He called on Thursday and broke the news that he had to work on Saturday. I had thought more of our “king” and “courtesan” fantasy and wanted to somehow surprise him. We had phone sex, but both of us lacked real excitement. I guess I was too disappointed and thought he was discouraged, too. We talked about me driving back, but he thought it was too much for the short time we would be together. I reluctantly agreed. I spent most of Friday thinking what we might do. I knew it would have to wait until the following weekend.

  Since I was alone for weekend, I painted the second bedroom. It went more smoothly since I knew how to do it this time. I painted it while nude. I also took pics by setting the camera on the dresser and taking various shots. The pics showed me rolling the walls, painting the trim, climbing a ladder to edge along the ceiling. My breasts and ass were prominently featured, but the star of the shoot was definitely my pussy – “my cunt” as I was coming to prefer. The beads were inside me, and some shots showed the small cord and ring dangling between very wet and luscious lips.

  When I was done, I went to get the yellow sundress that I wore when the college kid came in to help. I set the camera on the ladder and took several photos of me in the poses that he saw me, such as on the floor slipping coasters under the legs. They revealed that he certainly got a nice look at the swell between my breasts and my nipples. The dress fell quite open as I knelt and leaned forward. He certainly saw my thighs - fairly high - but not much above as I squatted on the floor.

  I sat on the bed and fantasized again about him watching as I pulled down the straps and cups exposing my breasts. I pulled up the hem and uncovered my pussy. I set the camera to take pics of my poses for my hot fantasy. When I saw them, I could not imagine him not hitting on that.

  I changed into another outfit - a thin white tank top with spaghetti straps and a very short pleated blue skirt. I tried the same poses. My top covered my breasts, but the thin fabric did little to hide my hard dark nipples. The top hugged every curve and dimple. My “pokies” were like dark morsels atop my tanned tits. The skirt was another matter. On my knees to slip a coaster under furniture revealed most of my ass. Any parting of my legs revealed the swollen bulge of my lips and tender pink slit. On the bed, lying back, legs spread revealed my eager cunt. I rolled over on my stomach and pushed my ass up as I pulled my knees forward. The camera snapped pics.

  When I was done, I rushed to the computer and downloaded the pics. The camera took a quick burst of three for each shot. Then I'd have to reset the timer. I pulled up the pics and viewed them as a slide show. The quick impression was that I was a tanned, sexy, fit and attractive woman. Some pics were blurred or showed awkward poses. Some were quite good. Some were so nasty. A burst of three close-ups of my wet cunt with the string protruding was truly pornographic.

  Maybe the hottest was a pic of me, virtually nude, lying on my stomach on the bed. The shot was taken from above and several feet back from my legs. My hair was thick and fell to one side. My face was turned to the side and my expression was seductive. You could see that my eye was cast downward and my mouth open. The white top was pulled high, almost like a collar around my neck. The blue skirt was bunched up in a crumpled belt around my waist. My tan was even and total. My ass cheeks were rounded as I lifted my hips slightly off the bed. My legs were spread maybe six inches apart. The light was such that my pink slit was glowing between two tanned wet mounds. My labia looked like the halves of a tender peach. Also perfectly visible was my anus. A pink puckered spot, almost delicate in design, was winking at the camera. I was totally bald between my legs. The thin patch of hair above my clit was pressed to the bed and hidden. Dare I show this to anyone? The thought of it sent a hot flash between my legs. I was dwelling on thoughts that I had never let linger during my marriage.

  I played as I sat on the office chair at the computer. I exploded as the pent up passion flowed from my core. A tide was turning, and I wondered where it would take me.

  My husband called late on Saturday night. He was out at a bar with friends. I wanted so much to have phone sex. He was laughing and a bit drunk. I heard the voice of women laughing. The thought of an erotic call evaporated. He promised to call on Sunday. He didn't.

  Chapter 5

  Sunday and Monday passed by as usual. My husband called Monday night, and he sensed I was distant. But we warmed and got excited about the coming weekend. I told him about painting the second bedroom. I told him I did it in the nude. I didn't tell him about the pics. Something about his voice made me hold back. The tone troubled me. I tried not to obsess, but the concern lingered.

  Tuesday I shopped. I found a local bicycle shop and stopped in to see what they had. An old bicycle was in the garage at the house. It was my aunt's and had seen better years. Its tires were flat, and the chain looked rusty. The guy in the shop offered to see if it could be fixed up. I went back to the house and got it into the trunk of my car. Back at the shop, the guy examined it and was not optimistic. It might cost more to fix than it was probably worth.

  He showed me some suitable bikes in his shop. Some were way out of my price range. Some looked okay for what I wanted. I told him I'd think about it and brought my aunt's bike back to the garage and went for walk on the beach. I thought about needing something more to do with my time and decided to buy a decent bicycle. I used to cycle when I was younger and had one in college. I liked the idea of exploring the beach roads and town by bike.

  Wednesday was another hot day. I dressed for the heat and went back to the bike store. This time the owner was there. He was an athletic and lean guy. I guessed mid-thirties. We talked, and he selected a few bikes for me to test. I took them for a brief ride and picked one that felt best. It turned out he would fit the bike to me by adjusting the seat and handlebars. I watched as he put the bike in a stand. He told me to hop on and cycle a bit. I was wearing shorts and a sleeveless top. I climbed onto the bike and started to peddle. He said to warm up and went back into his shop.

  He reappeared and watched me intently. I cycled and felt oddly uneasy as he watched my ass, my arms, and my legs. He asked me to hop off and he adjusted the height of the seat and the bars. I realized he was taking this quite seriously. I smiled thinking he had been checking out my figure and realized he had to in order to fit the bike. He adjusted things, and I was surprised to admit that it felt better. He strongly advised me to buy a helmet, which I did. I explained I hadn't cycled in awhile. He then mentioned that local riders gathered several times weekly and rode as a group around town and the beaches. He invited me to join them since the “intro” group would help me get started. He gave me their schedule. I paid, and he helped me fit the bike in my car. I brought it home and brought it into the kitchen.

  I undressed to lie on the deck. I spent several hours nude, tanning, and used the afternoon to read. After dinner, I dressed in shorts and a tee and rode the bike along the shore. I did not go far. After a few miles, I went back to the house. The bike felt much faster and smoother that the ones I had owned before. I liked it but knew I'd need to practice. I could tell it would be great exercise for my legs. Crunches on an exercise ball and light weights were toning my abs and upper body. The bike was a great addition.

  Back at the house, I made a drink and undressed. I gathered my book, the vibe, some oil and went to the couch. I read more of the short stories. I spread a beach towel on the couch and stretched comfortably on the cushions. Soon, I put the book down and started to fantasize.

  I was by the pool at some resort and wearing a bikini one only wears on vacation – a tiny top and thong bottom. I'm reading some trashy novel and notice a guy checking me out. I retreat to my room that looks onto the pool and watch him from a sliding door. He looks sexy, and I feel cravings rise up in me. I stand more in view and am certain he sees me. He glances over, then returns to chatting with someone. But I know he saw my form standing back from the glass door. I touch between my legs. I
'm swollen and wet. As he chats with a girl, I untie a string at my hip. The thong slips to the floor. I wear sexy sandals and kick the damp thong away. I untie the top. Letting it fall to the floor I stand back. He can see everything. As he watches, I wet my fingers and touch my nipples. I step back and sit on the bed. Legs spread wide, I rub gently. He moves closer still, walking away from his chat. I know he can see me. I rub harder and come. I imagine I'll see him later, maybe at the bar.

  I continued to lie on the towel with oil smeared on my breasts. My bare cunt was slippery. My fingers tasted like cherries and me. I caught my breath and read more of a story. When I finished, I took a warm shower and rinsed the lingering traces of my fantasy from my body.

  The next day ,I rode my bike to the local school where the group gathered for a ride. About thirty people were assembling. Some brought their bikes on their cars; some rode them like me. The owner of the store, Jack, was clearly the leader. He led the “fast” group that would go out for 25 miles. The “intro” group was led by a woman, Terri, from the local hospital. She was a little older than I, very fit, and seemed to know how to organize the crowd. It was announced that everyone was invited to a local pub after the ride.

  The fast group set off and disappeared down the shore road. They looked like serious athletes. I learned later than some were ex-college racers, and some were preparing for a triathlon. The intro group was larger and more diverse. I tagged onto the rear of the pack for a 10-mile jaunt. The ride was fun and the pace was quick, but I kept up. We rode without stopping, and I realized this was great exercise. We returned to the start, and I felt a sense of accomplishment. This was not easy, and I surprised myself by staying with the group. Later I'd learn that they slowed for me and a few others, and "no one gets dropped from the intro group."

  At the pub I got acquainted with the group. People were friendly and open. I immediately liked them. All were reasonably fit; some were top-level athletes and extremely fit. The hospital sponsored the ride as part of a wellness program. My group leader was a physical therapist. People had beers and food. I noticed no one overate or got drunk. This crowd was clearly into getting or staying fit.

  I chatted with the physical therapist. She asked how I felt after my first group ride. I explained that I felt challenged but did okay. We talked some about fitness training and how I could get better fast. I admitted it was all good but.... my butt hurt. She laughed and offered that she was not surprised. I was wearing shorts; everyone else was wearing padded cycling shorts. She said she did not have the heart to tell me that at the start. She knew I'd learn the hard way. "Go back to the shop and pick up some padded lycra shorts, a jersey or two, and padded gloves. They'll really make a difference."

  I laughed. "I will. The guys at the shop didn't try to up sell me." She smiled and shared that the shop owner knew I'd be back if I really got into cycling. It seems many people buy bikes that only sit in the garage. I told her that I thought I'd be persistent. The group rides seemed like a great idea. We sipped our beers, and I felt at ease with the scene. We surveyed the crowd that milled around the pub, and she gave a quick description of their backgrounds. All were local people who lived at the shore year round. People were swapping stories, comparing mileage, and making plans for future rides. I liked how they welcomed me.

  "We have been doing this for years," she explained. She and the shop owner had formed the club to bring the racers in touch with the local residents. It had been good for both. As we chatted, she counseled me farther. "One more thing, don't wear anything under the cycling shorts."

  I looked at her quizzically. She laughed and advised, "The seams in your underwear will feel as bad as your shorts did today. The guys at the shop probably won't tell you that."

  I laughed and thanked her for all the advice. Secretly, I chuckled since I had not worn under garments all summer. I chose not to tell her or the guys at the shop that little secret.

  It was getting late, and the crowd started to break up. I bid everyone thanks and got my bike from the ones stowed at the door and rode home as the sun set. My butt hurt again, and I felt the seams of my shorts chafe the tender bare folds between my legs. At home, I took a hot shower and watched TV before bed.

  Chapter 6

  The next day was Friday, and my husband arrived late that night. We made love as soon as he arrived. To be blunt, I fucked his brains out. My pent up horniness exploded, and the courtesan attacked her king. My fears that he was somehow losing interest were nonexistent. We collapsed and slept soundly. The wet spots on the sheets, and there were several, did not interfere with our slumber.

  In the morning I arose first. He was deep asleep. I admired his fit body; he looked like one of the “fast” group. He was sprawled on the bed. I liked how his soft cock and empty balls draped on his hip. I did not wake the sleeping monarch and slipped silently from the bedroom. I showered and washed crusty splotches from my hair, breasts, and thighs. I checked myself in the bathroom mirror. My tan was uniform. My hair was lighter from so much sun. My arms, abs and legs looked toned. I must have lost a little weight; my body was tighter and firm. I liked how I looked. My taut body and bare pussy made me look years younger. I'd need to be careful with the sun, though. My tan was all over and plenty dark.

  Later that morning he wandered into the kitchen. I was on the deck wearing his shirt and watching him. He peered into the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of OJ. He was scratching his balls as he looked for a glass. I laughed to myself as I entered the kitchen and bid my king "good morning." He looked at me with bleary eyes. His courtesan wore his white dress shirt, totally unbuttoned and open. The fabric draped outside my breasts and fell to my thighs. My flat belly led his eyes to a delicate crease.

  "Have a seat. Let me get you a coffee," I said as I poured him a cup.

  He sat at the table by the door to the deck. I brought him the cup and kissed his face. He reached up and cupped my breast.

  "Breakfast?" I asked. His hand reached to my back and ran down to cup my bare ass. "Did you like last night?" I whispered slyly as his hand inched between my thighs.

  "Unbelievable." He sighed as his hand withdrew and reached for his coffee.

  "Let me make you some eggs. You need your strength, my lord. Your kingdom awaits you." I danced away and made him a breakfast fit for a king. I sat with him as he ate. He talked about the week and his work. Then I pointed to the bike parked near the pantry. He checked out the bike and saw that this was a good one. I explained that I planned to ride routinely, and, while expensive, it was less than a health club membership. He liked my enthusiasm, and, if he questioned my resolve, he did not say it.

  We decided to spend the day at the beach and take a long walk. As he showered, I made a few sandwiches and put them and a few beers and sodas in a small cooler. I was in the bedroom putting on a bikini when he came in from his shower. He looked refreshed. He sat on the bed. I was wearing a white string bikini bottom. The top was tied around my chest but the cups fell below my bare breasts. I went to my king and kneeled and pressed my face to his warm cock. He smelled great.

  "I missed my majesty's member!" I exclaimed as I kissed the tip. "Every majestic inch!" He fit softly between my tanned tits.

  "You were incredible last night." He almost moaned with pained delight.

  I rose and fastened the cups to cradle my breasts. I turned for him as a model to show off my body. "How do I look?"

  He inspected his wife as he would a damsel from a conquered kingdom. My white bikini was the smallest of the few I had bought at a local shop. The triangles of the bottom and top could be expanded or shrunk by shifting them along the string ties. I shifted the bottom to become little more than a g-string. My full shave left no hints of my long-gone tuft. I shrunk one, then the other cup. The thin swath of white fabric almost covered my areola. My nipples hardened and pressed on the bunched fabric. His cock thickened, and I was tempted to dive back to my knees.

  He shifted on the bed. "You look gorgeous!" I
was pleased that my king approved of what he had invaded and conquered so forcefully during the night. He rose and found a bathing suit in the dresser.

  I rearranged my bikini to be presentable in public and covered myself with his dress shirt. We locked the house, walked down the driveway, crossed the shore road following the path to the beach. The crowd was farther down the shore where the public parking lot made access easy. Some had walked down to the beach in front of our house, but the people were spread out for more privacy. Families with kids preferred the beach near the lot since lifeguards were only on duty there.

  We spread out a large towel and rested. We dozed off. We awoke and swam to cool off. The surf was mild, and the water was refreshing. We sat on the towel and had lunch. We chatted about our unique summer arrangement. His work was demanding because a new project was underway. He described how he spent a lot of time at the office. He usually went out to dinner with friends, but he still found time to exercise some.

  I explained my routine. The painting, the reading, and relaxing that I enjoyed seemed luxurious in comparison. I suggested that maybe I should spend some time back at our place. We talked about that and wondered if my aunt would mind. My aunt wrote now and then and seemed to be enjoying travels with my uncle. I didn’t think she would mind. My husband offered that it was my call. He did mention that our weekends were probably so wild because of our separation during the week.

  I thought of all he was saying. If he wanted me back, I'd go. That he did not say that made me think he liked our arrangement. I thought it over and felt the same. Something bothered me, though. It seemed we needed to be more open about our feelings. I was changing somehow. One nagging thought was my simmering dissatisfaction with my job. I did not want to go back into the stress of teaching. The kids were great, mostly, but the administration was a source of stress. Some were jerks. The idea of losing my growing happiness, my sensuality, was lurking in my thoughts. My work sometimes drove me nuts. I wondered if we could move permanently to the shore. But I decided not to raise the issue.