Pleasant Street
Copyright© 2026 by D.C. Roi
Chapter 11: Summer Getaway
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 11: Summer Getaway - In a quiet suburban neighborhood, ordinary residents secretly indulge in steamy affairs, forbidden seductions, and passionate encounters with neighbors, older women, and old flames.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Mult Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Vignettes Cheating Sharing Wife Watching Incest Brother Sister Light Bond Rough Group Sex Swinging Cream Pie Exhibitionism Facial Oral Sex Petting Voyeurism Babysitter Big Breasts Clergy Foot Fetish Public Sex Teacher/Student Nudism
Sometimes you have to get away from the craziness of everyday life. Things get hectic, you can’t concentrate, and you’re feeling uptight. That’s why vacations were invented. Nothing calms you like getting away to a quiet cabin on a hidden lake in the mountains. There you can be alone, enjoy the peace and quiet, and if you have to get some work done.
Lots of people do just that every year. It works for them. On the other hand, even remote cabins sometimes have neighbors. One problem, especially for city people who go to the country, is the isolation. In situations like that, vacation neighbors sometimes get together. What if the neighbors happen to be of the opposite sex?
Fran Martin lives on Pleasant Street. Concerned that her daughter, Amy, was becoming too sexually active, Fran took the girl to a cabin she and her husband own in the mountains for the summer. She hoped she’d get her daughter away from temptation, maybe get her to settle down a little. Now you have to understand, both Fran and her daughter are knockouts, two very gorgeous, desirable women.
Unfortunately for Fran - or fortunately, depending on how you look at it - a writer was vacationing on the same lake and things didn’t go exactly the way she expected them to.
The writer in question just happens to be a friend of mine. He told me what happened there on that lake in the mountains. It seems the people on Pleasant Street act the same as always, even if they’re not actually on Pleasant Street.
Here’s the story of that summer, as my friend told it to me.
The cabin I rented for the summer sat at the end of a narrow dirt road in the middle of lush, green forest. I got my suitcase and portable computer out of my car and walked toward what was to be my summer retreat. It certainly looked rustic enough; cedar shake siding, small windows facing the rear, and a large screen porch across the side that faced the sparkling blue water of the little lake.
The interior was cozy, but sparsely furnished. A kitchen-living area, a bedroom and a bathroom were all there was. I looked in the bedroom. There was a king-sized bed in it. The owner of the place apparently believed in fun. If any stray women happened along, I had the perfect place to show them a good time. Of course, that was exactly what I didn’t want. I was here to work, and had chosen this place because of its isolation.
I put my things down and decided to explore the property. From the screened porch, I could see another cabin on the lake, but nothing else. A dock, similar to the one in front of my cabin, jutted into the water about a quarter-mile away. Unless I was mistaken, there was a person sunbathing on that dock. A female person, from what I could tell, although I was a bit far away to be sure.
A path ran through the brush along the shoreline in the direction of the other dock. I could tell more about my sun-worshipping neighbor if I followed it. I left the cabin, walked across the shady lawn and onto the path, through the thick brush.
The going wasn’t hard and I moved quietly on my Adidas. Before long I could peer through the leaves and see the dock and the form on it. My heart rate increased. The form on the dock was definitely feminine. Gloriously feminine. It was, in fact, a young woman in her late teens or early twenties; blonde, about five feet tall, and nude. Apparently she felt she was in an isolated enough location so it was safe to sunbathe that way. My penis stiffened in my snug jeans as I stood looking at her. There I was, a voyeur hidden by thick brush, enjoying a very interesting view.
She was a natural blonde. That was obvious because she was lying on her back. Although she was short, her body was full and curved in all the right places, promising pleasure and delight. Her breasts - surprisingly large for how small she was - rose magnificently toward the sun and were capped by rosy circles in the middle of which were soft nipples. Her slim waist flared into full hips and that wondrous body tapered again into two finely shaped legs.
She lay there, unaware of my avid attentions, looking innocent, helpless, and incredibly desirable. The vision before my eyes stirred me deeply and I had to adjust my swelling cock to make myself more comfortable. My jeans were too tight for this shit!
I wasn’t sure what to do next. Walking out and catching the young woman naked, nice as that might be, wouldn’t get our relationship off to a very good start. I took a few careful steps back along the path, then began to move through the bush, making quite a bit of noise as I went. When I came out into the open area at the end of the dock, the object of my secret attention had donned a bikini and was sitting up, a slight flush making her attractive, almost cherubic face even prettier.
“Hello,” I said and smiled at her.
“Hi,” the girl replied. Her reply was shy, her voice soft and feminine. “I-I, ah, didn’t know there was anyone else around.”
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” I said. “I’m renting the cabin over there.” I gestured in the direction of my place. “I just got here and decided to take a walk and get the lay of the land.”
“The Johnson place,” the girl said. She relaxed a little. “Mom said they were going to Alaska for the summer, but she didn’t tell me they rented their place.”
“Yeah, I’m here until Labor Day,” I told her. “By the way, my name’s Bud, Bud Connery.”
“Amy...” she said and smiled wonderfully. “Amy Martin. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Connery.”
“Bud, please,” I said. “Mr. Connery is my father.”
Amy smiled again. “OK, Bud,” she said. “I guess we’ll be neighbors for the next couple of months.”
“Amy! Amy! It’s time for lunch!” The new voice came from behind me. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know there was anyone here. I’m Fran Martin.”
“Bud Connery,” I replied. I looked the new arrival over and liked what I saw. “Call me Bud, please. I’ve rented the cabin next door.”
Amy’s mother was an older, fuller, but no less attractive version of her daughter. If I had to guess, I’d have said she was maybe 35, 40 at the oldest. She stood about five-three and weighed maybe one-thirty. Twenty pounds too heavy, possibly, but judging from the way her body filled her tight jeans and snug T-shirt, the weight was well distributed. It was obvious where Amy got her looks.
Suddenly, my summer in the mountains took on a whole new perspective. Being alone in the woods with these two lovelies next door filled the next few months with promise.
“Would you like to join us for lunch, Mr. Con ... Bud?” Fran asked. “It’s nothing fancy, but we’d love to have you.”
“I’d love to,” I said. “I just got here, and I don’t have any groceries yet.” I was glad for the invitation, and not just because I was hungry, either.
The meal was light, but good. The Martin cabin was a duplicate of mine but had an additional bedroom, probably where Amy slept.
“What do you do for a living, Bud?” Fran asked as we ate.
“I’m a writer,” I said. “I’m supposed to be finishing a novel I’ve promised. That’s why I’m here for the summer, to get away from distractions and write.”
“That sounds exciting,” Fran commented.
“What kind of books do you write?” Amy inquired, licking her lips invitingly. Or was that my imagination?
“Right now I’m doing a detective novel, formula stuff, part of a series,” I explained. “I also do westerns for the same publishing company.”
“Yuk,” Amy said and made a face. “I like love stories better.”
“I’ve written them, too,” I said as I pushed myself away from the table. “Lunch was wonderful, but have to get going. I need to get into town and lay in provisions, as they say out here in the wilderness. And I doubt the stores in that little town down there stay open very late.”
“Why don’t you join us for dinner on Saturday?” Fran said. “My husband comes up some weekends, and I’m sure he’d love to meet you. He’s a real detective story buff.”
“I’d love to,” I said. I turned and left. After I got back to my cabin, I got in my car, drove into the small town nearby and got groceries.
Later, with my provisions all stowed, I sat on the cabin’s porch, my laptop computer on the table in front of me, trying to write. I was having a problem with that, though. Instead of being able to concentrate on the detective story, all I could think of were the two lovely blondes in the cabin a short distance away.
Amy was really something, beautiful and obviously ready and willing for sex. But I had to be careful about her. If she was too young, I’d get in trouble, big trouble. Although Amy didn’t look underage, these days you couldn’t be sure. Thirteen-year old girls look like twenty-five year-olds used to when I was that age.
Fran was nothing to throw rocks at, either, every bit as lovely as her daughter, and probably lonely. I wondered how her marriage was.
“What kind of man...” I thought out loud, “lets a beautiful woman like her alone for weeks at a time?”
I sat there, speculating what Fran would look like without the snug T-shirt and jeans. Her breasts were big, but were nicely shaped and looked firm. As she’d moved around the kitchen serving lunch I hadn’t seen the outline of a bra.
I got up and began to pace. Randiness was interfering with my ability to write. This was exactly what I’d come up to the mountains to get away from. Finally I walked out to the dock. A canoe lay in the bushes. I picked it up and slid it into the water, grabbed a paddle, and got in. Silently, I glided out onto the lake, enjoying the tranquility.
As I glided over the calm water, I looked toward the Martin cabin. Amy was back on the dock, this time wearing her bikini. She waved to me and I waved back. I stayed on the lake a long time, enjoying the peace and quiet. When it began to get dark, I went in, pulled the canoe out of the water, and went back to my cabin.
I wrote a little, but not the story I was supposed to be working on. Instead, I began a short story about a man who has a torrid affair with two women - a mother and daughter - he meets while vacationing in the mountains. I’d left the city to avoid distractions and here I was, distracted. I shut off the computer, went into my bedroom, and laid down.
The sun shining through my window awakened me. I sat up, stretched, then I got up and took a shower. As hot water pelted me, my thoughts drifted to the two women in the cabin next door, and I felt congestion growing in my groin. If I didn’t do something to relieve tension soon, I’d be walking bow-legged for the rest of the summer.
I got out of the shower, dried off, slid into a pair of cutoffs, and made breakfast. I was surprised to discover it was eleven o’clock. I’m not normally a late sleeper.
I pulled on my Adidas and walked down to the lake. Amy was again out on the dock and it looked like she’d decided to work on a tan with no swimsuit lines.
“What the hell?” I said to myself. Silently I made my way to the spot where I had observed her the previous day. Once again a vista of feminine loveliness greeted my rather heated gaze. Apparently Amy felt not having a bikini line was worth the risk of being seen. She was on her belly today and the view the equal of what I’d seen the day before. Her lovely bottom swelled gracefully up from the curve of her back, the globes of her ass were wondrously shaped, the cleft between them inviting.
Amy turned toward me. I started to duck, then I froze. I’m not much of an outdoorsman, but I remembered from research I’d done for a book I wrote that if I moved, it would give me away. I stood there, still, and those lovely blue eyes seemed to look right into mine. I had a hard-on stiff enough to knock down trees. Maybe I was a dirty old man, but I didn’t care. This was too damn nice to ignore.