I collapse onto a sofa and exhale heavily. Finally, some peace and quiet. Traveling is getting old, and I’m feeling every single one of my forty-nine years today.
Then I let out a snort. When did I get to be forty-nine? Fuck, that’s fucking ancient. I still feel like I’m twenty-five, but I guess the years creep up faster than you think.
Then again, my lifestyle is hard too. As a make-up artist to the rich and famous, I travel non-stop. My clients are celebrity jet-setters and socialites, and as a result, I need to be present for the Academy Awards, the Cannes Film Festival, as well as multiple fashion shows, sporting events, and various high-society affairs. Max Wyndham is the go-to man for hair, and my services are highly sought after.
But the non-stop traveling gets to you, so when my high school friend Maurice offered me use of his cottage earlier this month, I jumped at the opportunity. Obviously, I can afford fancy hotels, but there’s nothing quite like the anonymity of Mamaroneck. It’s a cozy suburb about thirty miles outside of New York City, and there isn’t a single celebrity in sight. Perfect, because that’s exactly what I need.
My luggage sits in a messy pile by the front door, but I don’t care. Right now, I need a stiff drink and I heave myself up to grab some liquor from the cabinet. But then, a movement from outside catches my eye and I stop. Who is that? A gardener?
But then my eyes widen because the person outside is definitely not the gardener. Certainly not any gardener I’ve ever seen.
The young woman lounging by the pool outside is clad in a bikini so tiny that it shouldn’t even be called a bikini. Instead, the scraps of pink fabric barely hide her nipples and pussy, and to make things worse, she’s actually pushed the fabric of the top down a bit so that she doesn’t get an unsightly tan. Plus, she’s got a figure like Jessica Rabbit because this woman is curvy everywhere. Her breasts are enormous and her hips look like they’d be more than capable of taking a fast and hard fuck. Damn, she’s gorgeous. The narrow curve of her waist is delectable, and I’d like to run my tongue over that dip at her tummy. I feel my cock growing in my shorts, and I reach down to adjust myself.
But who is this woman? And why is she sunning herself at my friend Maurice’s house like she has every right to be here? He told me the cottage was unused, so I thought it’d be empty. But now, it seems I have an unexpected guest.
I’m about to open the sliding glass door and introduce myself, when suddenly, everything changes. My mystery woman reaches behind her neck to untie the bow at the back of her neck before leaning forward and undoing the tie behind her back too. When the top slips from her body, I become rock hard. Oh shit. Those huge orbs are creamy and full with petal pink nipples that look utterly delectable.
But instead of sitting back and working on her tan once more, the beautiful woman looks around quickly and then smiles. Evidently assured that she’s alone, she cups her breasts with both hands and then runs her thumbs over her nipples until they jut out like stiff peaks. Her head falls back with pleasure, and a breathy moan greets my ears.
Holy fuck. Is this really happening? I stand totally still in the living room, unable to move. My hand reaches forward slightly to grip my stiffness, rubbing up and down in arousal because I never expected this to happen during my vacation. But it is, and clearly, I’ve hit the jackpot. Barely breathing, I watch as the gorgeous mystery woman stands up for a moment, and at first, I’m afraid I’m about to be outed. But she merely giggles before slipping off her pink bikini bottoms and then lying back on the lounger once more, fully nude this time.
Holy shit, is this really happening? Fuck fuck fuck! Like a voyeur, I watch avidly as the nude woman sighs and positions herself more comfortably on the lounger. She’s absolutely gorgeous with lush curves everywhere, and to my delight, she angles her legs slightly apart, her glistening pink slit coming into view. Oh shit, oh shit. I’m literally dripping from my tip now, she’s so beautiful.
But the woman is nowhere near done. Closing her eyes, one hand cups and squeezes her breasts as the other hand trails down her body and into the valley between her legs. Her thighs fall apart and even though I can’t see where her fingers disappear to, I know exactly what she’s doing. Her eyes drift closed and her breathing begins to quicken as her back arches off the lounge chair, tilting those enormous orbs into the air. I long to suck the pink tips but all I can do is squeeze my straining length in my palm. Oh fuck, oh fuck, this is going to be the death of me.
Meanwhile, the woman begins to moan melodiously as she touches herself. The movement of her hand becomes more rapid and as I watch, her thighs begin to quake. Her back arches almost spasmodically as those big breasts shake, and then suddenly, her eyes open as she lets out a long, “Mmmmmm! Oh YES!”
To my amazement, an arc of clear liquid erupts into the air from between her legs as she climaxes, and my eyes widen when I realize what I’ve seen. This woman is a squirter, and her release was just accompanied by the most beautiful gush of fluid. She moans again and again, her hand still moving as smaller arcs of liquid erupt, the most glorious female essence.
Meanwhile, my hand goes crazy too. I’m jerking myself frantically while staring at the gorgeous girl, and in less than a minute, my own climax comes. My hand fills with hot, virile seed as I let out a low grunt of satisfaction, still unable to tear my gaze away from my mystery guest. I look down at my sticky palm, and wet fluid covers my forearm all the way to my elbow before dripping a bit. Hot damn, this is one of the best moments I’ve ever had, and I didn’t even touch her.
By now, the woman’s lying back in the lounger, sated and flushed. Obviously, I can’t approach her at the moment, so instead, I move stealthily to the kitchen sink and wash my hands there. It’s only at this changed angle that I do a double take. Holy fuck, is that …? No way, it can’t be. The last time I saw her, she was just a gawky adolescent with pimples on her chin and a halo of frizzy brown hair.
But now, it seems that my buddy’s daughter has grown up. What was her name again? Angela? Raquel? No, Rachel. Unlike me, Maurice got married right after college, and he and Mina started their family almost immediately. They had a baby girl who was the cutest thing, and I’ve said hello to Rachel over the years. But I never paid much attention, because my energies were focused on the worlds of glamour and beauty and not some gawky, knobby-kneed child. But it seems that the beautiful Rachel Champion is all grown up now, and I’m just the man to show her what comes next.
After a half hour, Rachel sits up and stretches her arms above her head. Her entire body undulates with the movement and I see once again just how generous those curves are. Then, the gorgeous woman gathers her bathing suit and slips her arms through a see-through cover-up before making her way back to the cottage. Damn, that cover-up does almost nothing because I can still see the shadow of her nipples, as well as the dark triangle between her thighs.
But Rachel has no idea that I’m here, so she pulls the sliding glass door open with nary a care in the world. It’s only then that she sees me sitting on the couch, her eyes popping open with surprise.
“Uncle Max?” she squeals, immediately clutching the cover-up even closer.
I nod with a smile.
“Hi, Rachel. Long time no see. And you know you don’t have to call me Uncle Max anymore. We’re both adults now, so just Max is okay.”
Of course, it’s absolutely heinous that this sweet girl even called me “uncle,” but after what I’ve seen, she can call me anything she wants. After all, it seems that we’re both guests at the cottage, and I want to make the most of our joint vacation.