Anna Maria Island (5 page)

turn.

I fall back to the bed, my dress
now bunched up like a broad belt around my waist.

He stands there, watching, almost
in shock. I lie back and slowly pull the beads from my vagina. He can't believe
what he is seeing. He moves onto the bed over me.

 "My cunt is so ready," I
moan. "Fuck it, fuck it like you wanted to when you first saw me."

He enters me and thrusts deep and
hard. I squeeze my cunt. He fucks me furiously, fucks my brains out. I tell him
to treat me like the hot married cunt that he dreams about. He bangs harder. I
explode, and an orgasm wracks my body. I push him off and spring between his
legs gorging on his cock - taking him deep, almost gagging. Taking him deeper,
trying to deep throat. Taking him deeper than any other cock I've sucked. I
crave to feel his come, first in my mouth, then in my cunt. I want to drip with
his cream....

Mmmm... I drifted back to reality.
The vibe slipped from my vagina. My strong muscles squeezed it out. The hot
waves of my orgasm radiated from my cunt. "My cunt," I said aloud,
hearing myself actually say it for the first time. It sounded nasty, dirty,
something said in sleazy hotels or alleys behind bars. It felt oddly
provocative to think I wanted to be considered a cunt. I tasted the vibe. It
was creamy. I slipped it back in my cunt, then again to my mouth wondering how
deep it could go. Not far enough. The tip made me gag as it neared the back of
my throat. I'd need to practice.

I lay on the bed lost in my
thoughts. My cravings for the college guy surprised me by their intensity. My
little fantasy was so real. Reading the erotica had spurred my imagination. The
idea of seducing the college kid was crazy. I knew that, but the fantasy was so
erotic. The temptation was so strong. Something was building in me, and I was
letting it happen. A little guilt tugged me back, but the guilt was fading.

I brought the vibe and beads to the
bathroom and washed them. I went back to the deck and cleaned up. I got his
towel, the glasses, and the camera and brought them inside. I checked the pics
that I had taken on the deck on the camera's view screen. I looked sexy in a
fairly wholesome way - a nude tanned woman lying in the sun with a faint look
of mischief. I'd need to transfer them to the computer to view full screen. I
knew as soon as I saw them that I'd explore more explicit photos.

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.

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."