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The Boy at the Beach House

Category: Mature
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Jenni Adams parked her rusted pickup behind the Harper house and killed the engine, sat at the wheel as an east wind brought rain over the steep shingle roof and drove it hard against the windshield. The surf would be big today and she anticipated a fight getting through the waves. She wanted this moment to last, sitting perfectly still, letting the urge to swim build inside, the anticipation almost sexual. For Jenni, a lot of things were almost sexual.

She was considering her life, her future, and whether a place existed for the couple staying in the beach house next door. She needed to decide two things — hell, at least two, but let’s get those nailed down to begin with, she thought.

The first was a biggie. She believed the time had come for her to give serious thought to leaving her husband.

By comparison, the second was easy. Which of the two people staying in the beach house did she want to make love with most? And then, with a shiver: why not both? Together?

Neither came with any easy answer. She had been here before, nagging away at what to do about her marriage, like a tongue probing a sore tooth, with pretty much the same result. Leave well alone; worrying only makes the pain worse. Except now the marriage, like an ignored tooth, had reached a point where she had to do something. As for the couple next door, the couple with the baby? Well, she guessed that was mostly wishful thinking.

Jenni had come to the beach to swim, same as she did nearly every day of the year, summer or winter. September came and the Harpers returned home, letting Jenni know the house was hers to use whenever she wanted. She would drive over the spine of the island from town and park on the rough sand and grass strip behind the house, change into her swimwear, then use the electric shower indoors when she returned from the ocean. Even though Kate and Tim were good friends, even though they said use the place whenever she liked, some faint guilt touched her each time because this was their house. She felt like an intruder; although less of one now than she had, after what happened two years before.


It had been a warmer day back then when Jenni arrived early at the row of beach houses, as she did every Saturday during summer. Late July, the height of the vacation season, with all six of the houses occupied. At a quarter before seven the sand stretched clean and empty, washed by last night’s tide, not yet disturbed by kids with spades and buckets, dry bathers with sun loungers, teenagers making scratch games of beach volleyball scuffing up the surface or a hundred footprints from people wandering with nowhere particular to be. The sun struggled to clear the fog which still blanketed the edge of the ocean, overhead the sky cloudless. Jenni knew this would change in the afternoon as heat built over the land and cumulus began popping. She sniffed, tasting the air. No rain today.

Jenni parked her pickup behind the last but one house. Kate and Tim Harper had owned it for as long as she remembered. At one time the house had been filled with kids and laughter, the smell of sun oil, drying swimwear and toast — someone was always making toast.

Now the kids had grown and some had kids of their own. Kate and Tim continued to arrive each summer, retired now and with time on their hands. They asked Jenni to use the place out of season, from early September on, their offer mostly but not completely altruistic because Jenni kept the place aired and clean. The houses were let until the end of November, a couple of them all year for those hardy souls craving wild winds and gray skies who didn’t mind freezing their butts off for the sake of fresh air, exercise and deserted sand.

September through March was quiet, the beach undisturbed, and Jenni came down to change in the house, as a base to swim for an hour or more a day and a chance to escape her home life. When the sea grew too cold to swim in her bikini — the one created from visitor cast offs, the top skimpy black nylon too small for her breasts, the bottom mismatched gray lycra in a different style, cut square like boy shorts — she wears the even older wetsuit someone was about to throw out. The wetsuit had a rip on one shoulder, the seams starting to part, but the application of gaffer tape worked wonders, keeping her warm enough to continue swimming right through winter. The Gulf Stream helped as well.

Today the Harper’s were in residence. When Kate heard Jenni’s pickup still its noisy rattle she came out on the porch and waved.

“Coffee’s fresh if you want some, Jen.”

Jenni started dragging the first of the laundry bags from the back of the pickup, checked blue and white nylon, each containing fresh sheets and towels for one of the houses. She tugged the Harper’s bag off the back of the truck and let it drop to the ground, dragged it around to the steps leading to the porch.

“I’ll take you up on the coffee,” Jenni said, putting her back into pulling the bag up the three wide steps between beach and porch.

“Hang on, Jen, I’ll get Paul to help you.”


“I can manage,” Jenni said.

“I know you can, but you don’t have to. Come up here.”

Jenni stopped struggling and stepped up onto the porch, tall and lean, the morning sun catching her sun bleached brown hair, casting light into her dark steel gray eyes. Kate Harper pulled the screen door open and called inside. “Paul, come out here and bring our laundry up.”

A muffled reply came back and a moment later a boy came out. Jenni stared at him, appreciating his perfect young beauty. Dressed only in swim shorts his flat stomach rippled with underlying muscle. No hair showed on his chest, his chin clean shaven, hair straw blond and not far from the same texture, thick and unruly. His blue eyes twinkled as he smiled at Kate Harper, the smile stopping short when he caught sight of Jenni and he flushed.

“This is Jenni Adams,” Kate said, making introductions. “She works the houses along this stretch, but I prefer to think of her as my friend.” Kate slipped her arm around Jenni’s waist and gave a hug.

Jenni smiled, unable to stop herself. She had known Kate so long she felt the same way.

“This is Paul,” Kate said. “My grandson. Barbara’s eldest. You remember Barbara, don’t you?”

Jenni grinned, nodding. “Of course I do.” Paul had inherited his mother’s blonde hair, although as Jenni recalled Babs’ hair had been fine and silky. Barbara had been Jenni’s first crush, twelve years old, hormones starting to kick in and Barbara had been nice to her. Nice, and she had a killer figure. “Great to meet you, Paul.” Jenni offered her hand and after a moment’s hesitation Paul took four steps across the porch and shook her hand, pulling his away almost as soon as their fingers met, as though her touch had transferred an electric shock. His blush deepened and he nodded stiffly. Young men, Jenni thought — you just gotta love ’em.

“Pleased to meet you too.” Paul spoke without looking in her direction. “Is this the stuff you want fetching up, Gram?” He took the steps in one long jump and gripped the carry handles on the laundry bag, relieved to take the offered escape.

“In the back room please, Paul.”

He lifted the bag easily and Jenni let herself admire the way muscle bunched in his back and shoulders, how his thighs popped hard as he lifted. He slung the bag over his shoulder and pushed through the door.

“Take the weight off, Jen,” Kate poured a large mug of coffee, pushed cream and sugar across the faded wooden table. Jenni added both and sat in a pale chair and sipped, enjoying the aroma and taste. Kate made the best coffee on the island.

“I can’t believe he’s all grown, Kate. Last time I saw Babs she was what, twenty-four, twenty-five and he must have been two, three years old?” Jenni pulled up an image of Kate’s pretty daughter, long blonde hair and good figure, and a small round boy on stocky legs marching up and down the beach with buckets of water holding crabs, which his Mom made him take right back.

“I guess,” Kate said, “You can’t have been much more than twelve yourself.”

Jenni laughed. “No, I guess not. Where does the time go, Kate?”

Kate returned the laugh. “Tell me. Just wait until you get to my age.”

The screen door opened and her husband came out on the porch.

“Hey, Jen,” he said, stretching. Tim Harper was still lean at seventy, with a full head of hair now turned completely white. The first time Jenni met him his hair had been dark brown and he wore a mustache; but that was the late eighties for you, and Jenni had been about five, accompanying her mother who had done this job before her.

“How’s it hanging, Tim?” Jenni asked, and he laughed at the usual greeting, laughed as he did every time.

“Same as ever,” he said, “though a little less every year.”

“Tim!” Kate said, but she smiled as she always did, accustomed to the innocent flirting between Jenni and her husband.

As if emboldened by the presence of his grandfather Paul returned to the porch, the screen door slapping back against the wall once more. He leaned against the railing on the far side of the table, trying for casual but succeeding only in looking sexy as all hell. Or so Jenni thought.

“You swimming later?” Tim asked her.

“What do you think, old timer?”

He laughed. “I guess you are. God, I wish I was still young enough to keep up with you, Jen.”

“You still could, I reckon,” she said.

“Maybe, maybe not.”

Jenni tried to remember the exact time they had started playing these little games. Probably there had been no first time, only a slow shift in their relationship. She would be horrified if she thought Tim really meant anything, but the game was fun, nothing more, Kate playing along as much as her husband, giving them all satisfaction.

“Paul swims,” Kate said. “He swims for his school.”

“Not anymore, Gram,” Paul said, his first words since coming back out, though he still refused to look across at Jenni.

“No, of course not. I forgot. He’s going to college in the Fall, Jen.”

“Where?” Jenni asked, interested. She liked to hear about people bettering themselves. She might have wanted that for herself, but too late now. Twenty-seven and settled into a miserable marriage with a loser husband and no obvious way out. Still, she enjoyed other people’s success, other people’s escape.

“Cal Tech,” he said, staring at the beach as though something important lay on the sand, something only he could see.

“That’s a long way from home,” Jenni said.

“No, Jen. Barbara lives in San Jose now. I’m sure I told you.”

Jenni laughed. “You probably did, Kate, but you know I can never remember anything like that. So how good are you, Paul?”

“Good?” he asked, finally glancing in her direction.

“In the water,” Jenni said. “Think you can beat me?”

She caught him suppressing a smile. “Guess so,” he said. He didn’t seem impressed.

Tim Harper laughed and slapped his grandson on the shoulder. “Don’t make promises you can’t deliver on, boy. You’ve not seen Jen in the water.”

“I reckon I can still beat her,” Paul said, straightening up and turning his head to glance at Jenni. He was tall and lean in the way swimmers are, and Jenni tried and failed to stop her glance skittering down to the respectable bulge in his swim shorts. She hoped he didn’t catch where her eyes went, because if he did it would be her turn to blush.

“A challenge, I think, don’t you Jen?” Tim asked.

“A definite challenge.”

“Race–race–race,” Tim chanted.

“Grampa!” Paul protested.

“Not till I’ve finished work,” Jenni said.

Paul had worked his courage up and looked directly at her. He was so damn beautiful, so sexy, Jenni hoped the tingle stiffening her nipples did not betray her lust.

“You really want to race?” Paul asked.

Jenni nodded. “Sure. I’ll be done by two, three at the latest.”

Tim Harper laughed. “You’ve gone and done it now, boy. Done it good.”

Paul looked at his grandfather, the affection obvious in his glance. “We’ll see.”

Jenni finished her coffee and allowed Paul to drag the bag containing the dirty laundry round to her truck. He hoisted the bag up with the same easy pull of his shoulders as before and Jenni glanced away, knowing the thoughts bubbling in her mind about this youth were entirely inappropriate. How old was he anyway? Too young for the thoughts filling her head. Seventeen if he was just out of high school. God, how could she even think about him that way?

She knew what was wrong, the same thing as always. She possessed a vast sex drive with nowhere to express it. Her husband, only ever moderately ardent, took marriage as a signal to stop trying altogether. A week after the church service what little libido he may once have possessed melted to nothing.

Jenni had no outlet for her needs, not on an island as small as this where everyone knew everyone else. She had enjoyed a few liaisons in the past, all vacation people. A forty year old husband showed interest, and Jenni experienced no guilt when she let him fuck her senseless, lying out on the dunes the night before he vacated his rental. But Jenni drew the line at an underage conquest, however beautiful.

Paul pushed the tailgate closed, squealing its usual protest.

“Grampa said I should come and help you with the rest,” he said, staring down at his feet. “I told him you probably wouldn’t want me tagging along.” He glanced up, caught her looking at him and his eyes darted away. “Do you?”

“I could do with the help,” Jenni said, amused. Maybe she couldn’t jump his bones, but that didn’t prevent her appreciating his beauty. She would enjoy teasing him some too. That might be fun. “Only if you haven’t got anything else planned. There are some kids your age in the Bradley place this week. Have you met them?”

“They’re only sixteen,” Paul said dismissively.

“Ah, of course.” Jenni tried to keep the smile from her face. “Come on then, if you’re going to help climb aboard.” She pulled herself up behind the wheel and turned the clunky engine over. Paul came round and sat across from her.

“I’m eighteen Tuesday,” he said, trying to make his voice casual.

“You are?” Jenni turned in the seat, peering through the mottled rear window as she backed out, knowing the movement was pushing her breasts tight against the t-shirt, knowing Paul’s eyes would be on her tits. She suppressed that smile again. It felt good to tease him, even if she didn’t plan on going further. “You having a party?”

She bullied the gearshift into first, crawled the pickup around the house and along the beach to the next a hundred yards further on. Later she would work her way back, after everyone had either left for the ferry ride to the mainland or gone out for the day, cleaning each house in turn.

“Mom threw me a big party back home before I flew out,” Paul said. “Gramps said we might have a small one Tuesday, just the three of us, as it’ll be my real birthday.”

“No girls from, you know…” Jenni nodded toward the Bradley house on the end of the row.

“They’re a bit immature.” Paul stared out the window as though the surf was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen.

Jenni laughed. “Yeah, I guess they might seem that way to an almost eighteen year old.”

He saw Paul glance at her, not sure if she was making fun of him or not. His look sent a thrill all the way along her spine. No, she thought, not making fun of him… not making fun of him at all…


The day was edging toward a close as Jenni walked from the sea in her mismatched bikini. Her body tingled from expended energy, the pleasure heightened by the drubbing she had given Paul. He might be a good swimmer, but Jenni swam at least an hour every day of the year and only someone outstanding was going to beat her, particularly on the long half mile route she had set. She heard Paul trailing along behind, his breathing still coming fast. She twirled back and laughed.

“Don’t sweat it, honey; no-one’s ever beaten me yet.”

He grinned and she liked there was no rancor in him. “Next year,” he said.

“You coming back next year? Think you can handle more humiliation?”

“I’m coming back so I can beat you.” His grin widened, eyes meeting Jenni’s, not as afraid of her as he had been.

At Kate’s house Jenni used the cold shower out back to wash the salt off before changing in the lean-to shed. She heard the shower running indoors, right next to the wall the shed was built against. Her mind projected the few feet through the shingles to imagine Paul standing under the shower, water cascading over his lean body. She wondered if his cock hardened in the same way as her nipples had, wondered if he was rubbing himself and for a moment lust filled her body, making it weak. She had dried but not dressed, stood with one hand against the wall while the other crept down, touched her belly and slid lower. Jenni adjusted her stance, opening her legs to admit her fingers and touched herself, cold from the sea, but as she pushed her fingers inside they met warmth and smooth slickness.

She gasped, aroused, and her eyes fluttered shut. Through the wall she sensed, or imagined she sensed, the faint vibration made by the shower. The sound stopped. Jenni stood alone, fingers thrust inside herself, ashamed of the thoughts in her head. Paul might be about to turn eighteen, but still so young. She withdrew her fingers and dressed, hoping to cover her arousal.

When she emerged carrying the two mismatched parts of her wet bikini in her hand it was Jenni who avoided Paul’s gaze as he came on the porch, dressed in blue jeans and a sweatshirt, toweling his hair dry.

“Are you swimming tomorrow?” Paul asked. His eyes locked on hers and a thrill coursed through Jenni. He had become more adventurous, bolder.

“I swim every day.”

“I’ll probably catch you then, if you don’t mind company.”

Jenni drove back over the island to town. As she came down the hill a ferry was docking, bringing more visitors, ready to return day-trippers to the mainland. The ferry, regular as any clock, said a few minutes after five and Mark would be home by six wanting his evening meal, would likely be out again by seven drinking with his buddies. At least it meant he wouldn’t be home. Jenni preferred it when she had the house to herself ever since Mark had started taking his frustration at life out on her. Nothing much to begin with, words and shouting at the start, then a year ago the physical stuff began, a light slap, a punch to the ribs. What worried her was the escalation. Sometimes Mark didn’t seem aware just how hard he hit her.

Had she allowed herself to imagine an escape, had some feasible option existed, she was starting to think she might take it, wondering how long it was going to be before any other option was better than the one she had accepted.


Sunday Jenni beat Paul, same again on Monday but he was catching on to her style and getting closer. Or perhaps she was letting him get closer. Her resolution of Saturday not to think about him that way had blown to the winds; she couldn’t stop thinking about him, conjuring fantasies of his tight young body, picturing him naked, picturing what she wanted to do with him.

Tuesday morning when Mark left for work Jenni showered and after she dried stood naked in front of the tall bathroom mirror. She leaned forward to wipe the steam stippled surface, stared as her distorted body appeared slowly as the air cooled and the mirror cleared.

She turned sideways, put her hand on her flat belly, looking at herself. Like many women Jenni managed that dichotomy of thought more common than each individual realized. In private she considered herself hot, in public believing her looks less than average. Perhaps because of the way people treated her. Looking at herself, her high breasts self supporting despite their size, her lean belly and long legs, the neat tuft of hair covering her sex, she considered she looked pretty good. Jenni knew in company her confidence would leach away, eroded by Mark’s words and actions. For now she resolved to dismiss all doubts, dismiss the years of verbal abuse which had grown so endemic she hardly noticed the constant denigration. Looking at herself in the mirror she allowed herself to believe in her beauty.

Jenni turned again, twisting to stare over her shoulder, noticing the way skin tightened along her side, outlining the lower ribs. Good ass, she thought, round and tight, narrow hips and slim thighs. A horizontal ledge showed between her legs and she leaned forward, putting her palms flat on the floor, shocked at the wave of arousal crashing through her and stared back between her legs at full pussy lips, shivering at the sight and knowing she was not doing herself any favors.

Turning herself on was going to get her exactly nowhere other than back on the bed with her hand between her legs. Temptation pulled at her, and on any other day she might have given in. She frequently resorted to pleasuring herself, at least every other day. Mark seemed not to care about sex anymore, and when he did the act was always short and brutish, often as not accompanied by minor violence.

Today was different and Jenni knew the reason why. Today was Paul’s birthday. Today he turned eighteen, and although Jenni acknowledged her thoughts were foolish she couldn’t help wondering if she might have something to offer him. Foolish, because absolutely nothing — nothing — was going to happen. The hopeless fantasy warmed her, making her wet between the legs, and she nourished that warmth, allowing the arousal to seep through her body, stiffening her nipples and bringing a flush to her neck.

Tuesday through Friday were good days, quiet days when she would go to the beach and check everyone had what they needed, nothing was broken or damaged, ask if anyone needed help or advice. Dressed in cut off denims and a tank top, her mismatched bikini worn beneath, a change of underclothes in the pickup, she parked behind the Harper house at eleven. As she came around the side she found them all on the porch. Paul had his long legs up on the railing, binoculars to his face. Kate and Tim drank coffee, working their way slowly through a pile of fresh chocolate brownies.

“Hey, Jen, come and have a birthday brownie.”

She laughed. “I don’t want to spoil the party.”

“Since when could you ever spoil anything,” Kate said. “Come up here. Paul, get Jenni a coffee.”

Paul dropped his legs off the rail and went inside. He came back a minute later with a plain white mug steaming good fresh coffee aroma. The smell hit Jenni and she had no choice but to sit and savor.

“How’s the swimming,” she said to Paul. “Think you can beat me now you’re an adult?” She held his gaze, trying to communicate something even though she wasn’t sure what exact message she was trying to send.

“Oh yeah, I’m so much older than when you beat me yesterday,” he said.

“You’re going to try though?” Jenni asked.

“What do you think?”

She sipped her coffee and nodded. “I think you are.”

“Are you going swimming now?” Kate asked. “Because Tim and I need to go to town after lunch, so if you’re going to stay for the birthday lunch as well, Jen, you’d better swim now.”

“We can always do both, Grams,” Paul said. “Before and after lunch. Once Jenni’s tired I might stand a chance.”

“In your dreams, young ‘un,” Jenni laughed. She saw Paul smile, a secret inner smile and it sent a shiver through her.

“I think they’ve forgotten to buy me anything for my birthday,” Paul said, “so they’ve got to go into town and find something quick.”

“You won’t be quick if you’re looking for a present in town,” Jenni said. “Or maybe you will, because there’s not much!”

“We have something we need to do,” Tim said, his face pleasant but closed.

“Let’s go humiliate you then,” Jenni said. “Again.”

Paul grinned and stood up, stretching his muscles. Jenni went round the back and stripped her denims and tank top off and walked back to the bottom of the porch.

“Why don’t you let me give you one of my old suits, Jen?” Kate asked. “I don’t use them now, and I’m sure they would fit you.”

Jenni shook her head, long tresses brushing her shoulders. “This is my lucky outfit, Kate. If I change now Paul might beat me.”

“We can’t have that,” Kate said.

They walked down to the line of surf. Families, kids, teenagers and old folks dotted the sand, sun loungers arrayed, balls bounced, romances sparked. Jenni glimpsed the sixteen year old girls staying in the Bradley house talking with two boys their own age. Jenni guessed Paul had missed his chance, despite his protests he wasn’t interested. The girls were cute in tiny bathing suits, white zinc on their pretty noses.

When their swim was over and they returned from the water the sun said midday, Paul laughing because Jenni had beaten him again, but only by twenty yards.

“I’ll get you after lunch,” he said. “You are staying for my birthday lunch, aren’t you?”

“I’m not sure I should, Paul. You ought to be spending your birthday with family.”

“I am,” he said. “But I’d like if you stayed as well.” He slowed and when Jenni turned her head it was to see him staring hard at her, staring into her eyes as they met his, and the flutter started up in her belly and she wondered if Paul noticed her nipples suddenly peaking against her top.

“I’ll think about it,” she said, knowing the argument, if one ever existed, was already lost.

She showered and changed, pulling clean underwear over her still damp body and when she knocked on the door and went in the table was laid with fish, mango salsa, fruit, bottles of wine beaded with moisture, and a small chocolate birthday cake decorated with eighteen unlit candles. As soon as they had finished eating Tim put a match against each candle and placed the cake in the center of the table.

“All at once,” he said. “Then you get to make a wish.”

Paul leaned over the table and blew. He blew long and hard until every candle was extinguished. He closed his eyes and kept them shut for half a minute.

“Some wish!” Tim said.

Paul opened his eyes, blushing, glancing shyly at Jenni. “Might as well make it worthwhile. I’m only going to be eighteen once, even if this is my second party.”

“Ah, youth,” Tim sighed.

“Okay,” Kate said. “Let’s clear up then we really have to scoot.”

“We’ll do this, Grams,” Paul glanced at Jenni. “If that’s okay with you?”

“Do you mind, Jen?” Kate asked. “It doesn’t seem right asking you to a party and then letting you and the birthday boy clean up, but we could use the extra time in town.”

“Sure,” Jenni said. Something had loosened inside her over lunch. Perhaps two glasses of wine had something to do with it, perhaps something else, but her skin tingled with anticipation. She was, she reminded herself, only seven years older than this young man. Okay, eight years older; but eight years was nothing.

As his grandparents drove off Jenni helped Paul stack dishes in the machine, knowing she could not prevent herself instigating the next step. What happened after that was up to Paul.


Through the kitchen window the beach was quiet. While they had eaten low gray clouds had scudded in, discouraging all but the most adventurous. Leaning towards her while Jenni passed the plates Paul asked, “You want another swim later?”

“In a while, maybe,” Jenni said. “I need to let some of that wine work out of my system first.”

“Yeah, probably a good idea. What do you want to do then?”

Fuck your brains out, she thought, but what she said was, “Oh, I’m easy. It’s your birthday.”

“I don’t mind.” He finished with the last plate and rose on his toes to stack it in the high cabinet, his body lithe and powerful. He half turned, close now, and Jenni became instantly aroused as his scent enveloped her. Salt and sun oil and something deeply masculine underlying everything.

“I thought I might give you a present,” she said, her words soft.

“You don’t need to do that.” Somehow, although neither of them had moved, the space between had shrunk.

“I want to,” Jenni said.

“It doesn’t seem right,” Paul said. “I hope you didn’t spend much.”

Jenni smiled. “I didn’t spend a thing.”

“Oh… okay. What have you got me?”

Jenni took a pace toward him, placed her hands against his chest and said, “This.”

She lifted on her toes and pressed her lips against his. For a moment he was stunned, or afraid, or shocked, she couldn’t tell which and a flare of panic filled her because she was doing the wrong thing. Paul’s sudden gasp drew air from her lungs. His firm young body trembled beneath her hands and Jenni stopped worrying she had stepped over the line. His lips parted in response. She had not meant things to go so fast, intending the kiss as a promise for the future, but before she could prevent herself she pressed hard against his chest, her mouth opening, tongue probing. Paul’s hand pressed into the curve of her back, pulling her closer, pulling her against his instant arousal pressing her stomach.

The kiss went on and on, changing, Paul pushing past her tongue and between her lips. Jenni dropped her hand to his waist, the slim tightness of muscle along his flank beneath her fingers. She wanted to move her hand lower but hesitated, because this was going fast, maybe too fast. How long did they have? How long could she wait? She knew the answer in an instant. She could not wait at all.

Jenni pulled back, breathing hard. Paul stood as though stunned, the long hard ridge inside his jeans obvious.

Jenni darted back and kissed him again, a fleeting peck this time.

“Happy birthday,” she said, and took his hand.

“Uhm,” Paul said.

“Come on,” Jenni said, “there’s more, if you want.” She had moved beyond restraint. Pent-up lust boiled inside her, scorching away any doubts she had. How long, she wondered, as she led Paul through to the living room, how long before his grandparents returned? She had the impression they might be gone a while. Perhaps they had planned it this way.

Jenni led Paul by the hand, his features slack with disbelief, a dream state on his handsome face. Jenni drew him to the sofa and pushed him back on the cushions, straddled him and kissed him again, her hands holding his face and after a moment his hands slid along her back and clasped her. She ground her hips against him, the hardness inside his jeans pressing back, offering a promise she intended to fulfill. Her cut-off denims allowed the nakedness of her thighs to rest against Paul’s jeans, filling her with a sensual longing. She wanted to feel his skin against hers.

Jenni dropped her hands, pulling at the buttons on his shirt, opening them and slipping her fingers inside, her fingertips experiencing his beautiful smoothness. She kissed his neck, put her hands on her own tank top and drew it up. Jenni watched Paul’s eyes widen as she revealed her breasts cupped inside a small white bra, their nipples hard, peaking against the lace.

“Touch me,” she said, her voice a whisper. When Paul failed to respond she took his hands and lifted them to her breasts, gasping as his palms closed on them. “Like this, touch me like this.”

She returned to his buttons until his shirt gaped wide, leaned and kissed his neck, moved lower and nipped at his nipple with her teeth. Men were sensitive and got hard there too, and she licked and sucked at him as he jerked between her lips.

His hands grew bolder against her breasts, probing, pushing down inside the cup of her bra, searching for and finding her nipples. Jenni reached behind and flicked a clasp and the bra fell away, granting Paul’s hands full access. She arched her back, presenting herself to him, rewarded when his mouth closed around her nipple. His tongue caressed the stiff nub and sensation arced through her, a direct line drawn from her nipple to her clitoris. Paul, she decided, still had too many clothes on.

Jenni allowed him to suck on her nipples, as a reward, and also because his lips were so good against her breast, then she pulled away, slipping down to the floor between his legs. She put her hands on the brass clip of his jeans and looked up at him, asking the question without forming words, and Paul gave the merest nod. Jenni twisted the clasp, slowly popping each brass button along his fly, her eyes devouring the sight revealed. When all the buttons were loose she tugged at his jeans and Paul lifted his hips, allowing her to pull them down. His shorts caught and came with them, not all the way, only as far as the base of his pubic hair, the root of his hard cock showing.

Jenni kissed his hip, his belly, placed her hand directly over the long shape formed by his cock and Paul gasped.

“Oh Jesus, I’m going to have an accident if you do that.”

“Not an accident,” Jenni said, her voice hoarse. She tugged at his shorts, wanting to see all of him, wanting to taste him. He lifted again and his cock worked free, slapping back hard against his belly. Jenni grasped him, impressed at the length and thickness of his cock, impressed at the hard smoothness. She stroked him once and saw him twitch. Oh yes, accident on the way, a delicious accident. She had no idea how this felt for him but she could guess. He would be on a hair trigger now, trying to hold himself back and about to fail. Jenni determined to make him fail.

She leaned forward and put her mouth against the side of his cock, licked the smooth hot skin and he twitched again.

“No, no,” he gasped, but Jenni was relentless. She shifted upward and her lips found the head of his cock and closed around his glans, pulling him inside her mouth. The taste of his cock was sweet against her tongue, the head slick with pre-cum. Paul tried to hold her head and pull her away but she knocked his hands aside.

“I want to do this,” she said, freeing her mouth only long enough to say the words.

“You’re gonna make me come,” he cried, anguish in his voice.



“It’s okay, honey, I want you to. I want you to come in my mouth.”

Jenni took him back between her lips, deeper this time, she had always given good head, had a reputation at one time she hated, but now she knew she gave good head, wished her husband wanted her to do this to him but knowing that was a lost cause. Instead she would enjoy the pleasure of this afternoon. This beautiful boy with his long, thick cock was all hers.

“Ahh!” Paul cried out, and Jenni pressed down, his cock touching the top of her throat and pressing down again so he filled her. She pulled back at the moment he tipped over, unable to prevent himself, his hips jerking upward and the first explosion of sweet slickness filled her mouth and she accepted his offering, swallowing what she could but he jerked too much and pulled free of her lips, spurting enormous arcing jets of semen which caught in her hair, splashed against her face, splattered across her breasts and he came again and again and again, the fecundity of his youth covering Jenni in his cum.

She grabbed his cock and drew him back against her tongue, ignoring his gasp. Still rock hard, still rigid, still ready. She played with his glans, explored the tip of his cock with her tongue, moved up and kissed his belly, his chest, coming finally to his mouth and kissing him, her bare breasts smearing semen against his chest.

“Oh God, I’m sorry,” he said, speaking against her mouth.

“Sorry for what?”

“Coming like that.”


“I should have lasted longer.”

“Why?” she asked again. She rolled to lie beside him, circling his cock with her fingers. “You’re still hard.”

He turned to her. “Do you want to…” he stopped, shy.

“I want to do everything you want, Paul.” Jenni kissed a point on his neck below the ear.

“I want to make you come now,” he said, avoiding her eyes.


He nodded, before realizing she was teasing, smiled. “I do.”

“I guess I could let you, if you really want to,” Jenni said.

His eyes widened, as though he had not expected that answer. “How… what… can I…” He shook his head, lost for words.

“Anything,” Jenni said. “Everything.”

“I don’t know what…”

“Paul, have you ever done this before? With a woman? A girl?”

He both nodded and shook his head at the same time, his head making a crazy circle. “Yeah. Kind of. Once. Sort of.”

“Good. Tell me, what did you do?” Jenni drew close to him, fascinated by his skin, his lean strength. She caressed his cock, stroked his balls, round and so full of potential. She wanted all of him. She dipped down and sucked his cock into her mouth again, but only for a moment. “Has anyone ever done this to you before?”

He nodded. “Once. But she didn’t want me to do anything… in her mouth.”

“Did you do the same for her?”

He shook his head. “She didn’t want me to… ”

“Mm. Silly girl.” Jenni took him back inside, but only to tease, to keep him on edge. She had other plans. “You taste so good.”

“I do?”

Jenni rolled along his body and kissed his mouth. “You do. Can’t you taste yourself on my mouth?” She kissed him again.

Paul nodded. “I think I can.”

“You can,” Jenni said. “Have you had sex? Have you fucked a girl?”

Paul shook his head.

“Hand job?”

He nodded.

“What else?” Jenni was turning herself on even more asking him questions, turned on by his innocence and need.

“Boobs,” he said.

“You fucked her boobs?” Jenni said, delighted.

Paul nodded.

“You splashed on them?”

He nodded again, looking away.

“You want to try it again?” she asked.

He looked down at her breasts, full and soft, and nodded.

“I want you to do something else too.”

“What kind of thing?”

Jenni rolled on her back and unclipped her denims, pushed them down, displaying skimpy white panties, the front showing evidence of her arousal.

“You can fuck me, Paul, if you want. No — I want you to fuck me. You have to fuck me. But only after you’ve done something else first.”

“Anything,” he said, staring at the mound her pussy made in her panties, at the stray curls of pubic hair working free around the sides.

“Can you guess what I want?” Jenni asked.

He continued to stare at her panties, nodding slowly. “I think so.”

“Have you ever gone down on a girl, Paul?” Jenni was arousing herself with the words she spoke to him, stimulated by her boldness.

He shook his head.

“Girls love it when you do that.”

“They never said anything.”

“They’re not as forward as me. Will you do it for me now, Paul, please?”

He nodded again and slipped to the floor. Jenni parted her knees, his body sliding between to press against her legs. Paul had come fast, but Jenni knew she was going to match him, delight building inside. Paul ran his hand along her thigh, his fingers shying away from her pussy. She grabbed his hand and moved his fingers back where she wanted, pressing herself directly onto them.

“Take my panties off, honey,” she said.

He tugged the skimpy cotton, a wave of heat rising against his face as he revealed her sex. Jenni lifted one leg, freeing the panties on one side, letting them hang from her knee on the other.

She put her fingers against her labia and opened her pussy. “Here, babe… I want you right here.”

Paul glanced up at her, eyes wide, followed her directions. His breath fluttered warm on her bush. His lips touched her on one side, kissed her like he had kissed her mouth.

“Use your tongue.”

Ben pushed between her slit, extending his tongue inside. He was clumsy, unsure what to do, but it was okay because his inexperience excited Jenni and when the tremble started she tried to hold back, not wanting to come yet, wanting to make this last.

“Here,” she said, pushing her fingers down beside his face. She pressed against her clitoris, showing him how hard and fat it protruded from beneath its hood. “Kiss me here, Paul. Girls really like being kissed here.”

He moved his attention to the new target, pulled her clitoris between his lips, added his tongue.

“Oh yes, honey… are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

“Nn-uhn,” he grunted, and Jenni smiled.

“Well, you’re gonna make some girls real happy real soon, babe. Real happy.”

He pulled her clit deep into his mouth, his fingers joining the mix, pushing a little roughly between her thighs, two fingers entering her and Jenni felt the time arrive when she was incapable of holding back any longer.

“Yeah, go on honey, do me now,” she gasped. It had been years since anyone had done this for her. Mark considered the act to be filthy, said more than once he couldn’t understand why a man would want to do something as perverted and gross. Paul was doing great though, so good for his first time, so, so good…

Jenni pushed up against his face, pushing hard and fast, riding against his mouth, making his fingers slip and move inside her. She reached down and grabbed his free hand, placed it on her breast, pulled at her other nipple herself as the peak started deep inside and grew fast.

“Oh, yes!” she gasped, and Paul sucked her clitoris harder and faster as she rode against him, for a moment the world spinning away from her, spinning far away before coming back with a bang and she cried out, riding the wave until sated.

Her body went slack, still tremored with twitches and shivers. Jenni grabbed Paul’s hair, tugging him up, not caring if she hurt him, pulling him up to kiss her.

“Thanks, honey,” she said into his mouth.

“Thank you,” he said, the perfect gentleman. “That was… something else.”

“It surely was,” Jenni said, planting kisses on his lips and cheeks, “and we ain’t done yet.”

He looked at her. “Are we going to?”

She nodded.

“What about… uh, precautions?”

“All taken care of,” she said. After her swim Jenni had taken her cap, the one she rarely used, and inserted the device inside herself.

Paul looked down at her. Jenni reached for his beautiful cock and circled his thick shaft.

“I think I can last a little longer this time,” Paul said, and his sudden seriousness made her break up.

“Oh God, honey, I like the sound of that. Come on, I’m ready.” She wrapped her legs around his narrow waist, her hand still on his cock, guiding him to the moistness of her entrance. The thick head of his cock touched her, resting against the engorged lips of her pussy and she pushed against him. Paul wasn’t experienced enough to tease, and she didn’t want to draw this out. As he entered her Jenni clasped her heels against his back and pulled him deep inside.

She examined his face as he sank into her, watched the way his pupils bloomed. He stared back at her, the shy boy gone, the start of a confident man growing and Jenni experienced a huge wave of affection for him, so glad she could do this for him. Do this for herself as well… probably, she thought, if I’m being honest, mostly for myself.

“Go on,” she said. “Hard. I want you to fuck me hard.” The coarseness of her words excited them both.

Paul moved against her, working solidly, his cock extending so deep inside she wondered where it reached but still trying to impale herself even harder onto him. Already the urge had blossomed from a pinpoint inside and Jenni knew this was going to be fast again. The pinprick grew as Paul pounded into her. Sweat gathered on his chin and dripped to her breasts. His fists dug into the sofa either side of her waist and she loved the concentration on his face, loved the fact he was close to coming, the idea exciting her even more.

“Fuck me,” she whispered, drawing her lips up to his ear. “I want you to fuck me, honey.”

She didn’t think he could move any faster but somehow he managed and his cock became a constant thrum inside her, touching every nerve ending she had, trembling hard as the joy cascaded through her body.

“Yes,” she gasped. “Do me, babe, do me like that…”

He grunted, Jenni ready too, the first spasm erupting and becoming a flood deep inside, tipping her beyond pleasure and into chaos, crying out and gripping his shoulders, biting his arm, jerking and trembling against him, his entire naked body pressed against her and she still couldn’t get enough of him.

When he finally brought her back to reality by drawing away Jenni glanced down to find his cock still hard.

“Do we have time?” he asked.

Jenni rolled over, leaning her arms on the sofa and lifting her ass high into the air.

“This way,” she said, and Paul lodged himself between her legs. His hands gripped her waist and confident now he guided himself home, pressing deep between her thighs, his cock once more filling her pussy.

This time they took their time, their movements gentler, more loving. The first times had been all wild lust and passion, this one was soft and filled with affection. Paul worked himself inside her, a fast learner, his belly slapping against her ass on each stroke, and Jenny reached back and pulled her cheeks apart, knowing she was displaying her asshole to him, wanting to display herself. He stroked her back, touching the valley running along her spine, held her ass, gripping her cheeks tight inside his hands. Jenni pushed back harder, wanting him to do something but not wanting to ask him, shy herself now at what she needed him to do. He leaned over and kissed her back, reached beneath and cradled her breast in his palm, so full she overflowed his hand. He gripped her hips again, working himself deeper. He ran a finger along her spine and down along the crack of her ass and Jenni reached back and parted herself again. His fingertip touched her budded asshole and she twitched.

Jenni felt Paul hesitate as he realized how sensitive this spot was for her. His finger returned and Jenni put her head down and grunted. “Yes, honey… touch me right there.” She said the words, spoke them aloud, allowing her need into the open.

Paul touched her again, and this time his finger returned slick with his saliva. He pressed, lightly at first, as though uncertain, but when she offered no resistance the pressure increased and his finger invaded her most taboo of places. As though a signal had been given their slow love making increased in pace. Paul pounded harder and faster. His finger probed deeper into her ass. Jenni pushed back against him, ready again, encouraging him on. She peaked, tipped over and still when she came back he had not come and she thrilled because it wasn’t finished, grunting at him, not words but her meaning clear and he pounded harder, his finger popping free of her ass so he could grip both hands on her hips, needing to work harder, deeper, and Jenni heard him breathing hoarsely, the tension in his body peaking and he cried out, emptying inside her again, so young, so much potential, filling her once more and his climax triggered her own and she pressed her curled up fists into the cushions and bit on her bottom lip.


It was gone five when Kate and Tim returned. The living room was tidy, all the plates and glasses dried and put away, but Jenni feared the house still stank of their lovemaking, would give them both away. Instead of coming inside they called Paul out.

Jenni joined them on the porch, hanging back, and Kate shot her a probing, questioning glance but Jenni kept her expression neutral.

“Happy birthday, Paul,” Tim said, and disappeared around the side of the house, appearing a moment later pulling a trolley of some kind. As more came into view a small sailing dinghy emerged, second hand but refurbished, the nylon sail furled tight, all the rigging ready to go.

“What?” Paul’s mouth hung open.

Jenni gazed at him, a warm glow tingling inside. This is some birthday, she thought. Her body ached, satisfied; maybe satisfied for another year or two.

“Grams, Grampa, what… this is too much…”

“Well, we thought you might be able to catch Jenni with this,” Tim said, and he cast the same questioning glance at her and she wondered if what they had done showed on their faces, in the way they held their bodies. She never did find out if they guessed what had gone on, not for sure.

Paul insisted she go sailing, and she went with him but made him bring her back in time to return home before Mark finished work. Paul stayed another twelve days before he had to fly west, and Jenni met him almost every single one of those days, going out on the water in his neat little dinghy, and each day they sailed far out, as far as Sedge island where they anchored and Jenni taught him other ways to please a woman, showed him what a woman can do for a man.

She feared tears when he left, from her as well as him, but he had matured over these few weeks, and Jenni liked to think she had helped. After he had gone the glow kindled inside by him lasted months. She was convinced Kate and Tim knew, but if they did nothing was ever mentioned, and she never once caught any hint of judgment.

Jenni expected Paul to return the year after, but he didn’t turn up. She asked Kate and Tim casually what he was doing, and discovered, over weeks, he had found a girlfriend and it was serious. They were engaged, planned to marry when they finished college. Jenni wasn’t sure how she felt about the news. Happy for Paul, but happiness tinged with an undercurrent of jealousy. Then, eventually, she laughed at herself. What had she expected anyway? He was going to come back like a love-turn puppy dog and follow her around forever? She wouldn’t have wanted that anyway, would have been scared if something like that happened.

That summer of two years earlier faded. The houses closed up one by one. Winter storms arrived and Jenni’s husband withdrew even further into himself. Jenni tried to be a good wife, tried to offer sympathy because she knew things were hard on Mark. He had taken over the small auto-repair business started by his father, and at first everything had gone well. Gradually, over time, Jenni picked up things were getting tougher. New cars needed new equipment to fix them. Mark complained that everything was controlled by computers these days. Foreign crap was forcing out good American cars. He could fix anything built before the turn of the century, but now people were taking their vehicles to the big outfits on the mainland. He was left with the old trucks and cars, Fords and Chryslers he knew all about. He kept his head above water changing tires, topping up oil and selling gas. But it was not clear he would be able to do that for ever. If Mark had confided in her, offered a little more response when she tried to help life might have been different. Instead he retreated into himself, into drink and his buddies, losers all of them but they shared his world view, a small world that encompassed little outside of the island.

Jenni knew another summer would come, perhaps bringing another chance to grasp at happiness. This was her life. This was the way it always had been, the way she believed it always would be, and she was learning how to make the best of it.

She had no intimation this summer that was almost over would be different. The young couple staying in the end house with their new baby fascinated her. The woman in particular was hot, something about her radiating sexual energy. Jenni had never experienced sex with another woman, not real sex. She had messed around in high school, everyone had, but something about this woman intrigued her, lighting a spark inside which took her thoughts in strange new directions.

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