Chapter 5

Lillian awoke in the master bedroom, stretching languidly, relishing the sensation of the warm, sweet-smelling sheets against her nude body. Sunbeams slanted in through the partially drawn blinds over the window, falling across her eyes, and she raised one arm to shield out the bright light. She’d been home for almost six months now, and things had improved with each passing day. Lillian and Art’s relationship, strong as it had been before her move to New York, had undergone a remarkable transformation as they had begun consciously to reveal their most intimate selves to each other in a mutual effort to recover what they had lost.

Lillian put on her robe and slippers and padded down to the kitchen. The aroma of frying bacon and coffee greeted her as she walked into the kitchen. Paul was at the table reading the sports page and Art was standing at the stove, humming softly to himself as he tended to a pair of skillets. He turned when he heard her enter, put down the spatula, and came to her, his eyes shining.

“Good morning, darling,” he said, and kissed her, folding her into his strong arms. She returned his kiss, pressing against him for a moment, then stepped away, smiling.

“Did you sleep well?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

Art laughed. “Very well!”

“I slept marvelously myself,” she said.

Paul looked up at them from his paper and shook his head.

“Do you know what tomorrow is?” Art said.

“The fourth?” Lillian replied.

“Well, that too. But tomorrow is also our six-month anniversary!”

Lillian laughed. “Is that like a half-birthday?”

“Yup,” said Art. His eyes softened as he looked at her lovely form. “And every one of those days has been wonderful.”

Paul rolled his eyes.

In that time, Art’s patient, persistent efforts to introduce Lillian to new realms of sexual pleasure had yielded significant results. Lillian now fully accepted that oral sex — both to and by her — was a regular part of their sex life. Art’s lessons on fellatio had begun with hand stimulation, using a lubricant, showing Lillian what parts of the penis to concentrate on, how much pressure to apply, and how to combine sensations to achieve maximum results. He had taught her how to use her mouth — her lips and tongue — to apply the same forms of stimulation, how and when to vary the pace, the pressure. And Lillian had proved a quick study, developing an intuitive feel for what worked and didn’t, even getting to the stage where she regularly went beyond what he had taught her, venturing new techniques and combinations. The result, much to Art’s joy and benefit, was that Lillian had already attained a level of skill that few women would ever achieve.

As they ate together at the table, Art asked about their plans to visit the State University.

“Well, I think we’re just going to spend the morning there today — it’s the weekend, so many of the facilities aren’t open, but we’ll wander around the campus and tour the library, bookstore and so forth. Then we’ll come back just swim and laze by the pool, I’m guessing.”

“Well, that sounds like a great plan.” Art smiled. “I have some work to catch up on; otherwise I might horn in.”

“Oh, honey, you’d be welcome of course!”

“I’ll let the two of you go,” he said with a smile. “I’ll join you on the next tour.”

______________________________________________________________________________ After Paul and Lillian left, Art worked for a couple of hours, his mind straying every now and then to relive last night’s sensational sex. Lillian had been as shy and reluctant as ever to try something new — mutual oral sex. But once he had gotten her past the critical threshold, once she allowed her body to assume control rather than her mind, she was electric! He felt himself growing hard at the memory of gazing up at those gorgeous buttocks, tasting her honey-salt essence, feeling her body react to the movements of his lips and tongue while her sliding mouth simultaneously sent blazes of pleasure through his lower body.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. He went down to see who it was.

It was Jennifer Rowland.

She stood in her usual provocative pose on the flagstone porch, wearing a short skirt and a thin white blouse, smiling seductively at him. He felt his neck redden, and the same faintly flustered feeling in his stomach he always seemed to get when around her. He moistened his lips.

“Hello, Jennifer,” he said, managing a small smile.

“Hi, Art,” she cooed in reply, her gaze caressing his face now. “Is Paul back yet?”

“No, he isn’t. They aren’t going to be back till this afternoon.”

“Well, do you mind if I wait for him – it’s almost eleven. It’s pretty hot out and I was looking forward to jumping in the pool.”

Art swallowed into a suddenly dry throat, noticing that she carried a rolled towel under her arm.

“Well, you’re welcome to use the pool until Paul gets home, of course.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Jennifer said. “I mean, if Mrs. Jameson is here and she’s swimming or something.”

“No, she’s not here either. They went together to see the college.”

“Then you’re all alone?” Something in the tone made his stomach flutter again.

“Yes, I am, Jennifer. I’m in the middle of a project. Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” she said, smiling. “Is it still okay if I use your pool?”

“Sure. You can change in the cabana.”

“I know, I’ve been here before.”

“So you have.”

“Well, thanks again, Art, I’ll just go on around back.”

“All right.” Art watched his nephew’s young girlfriend walk toward the rear of the house, his eyes drawn to the swinging buttocks under the thin material of her skirt, the tanned, exquisitely tapered thighs.

Damn! What was it about that little vixen that affected him so much? But he knew what it was: she had an aura of uninhibited sexuality that drew him like a magnet.

Art went back into his study and tried to get back into his work. Minutes later he heard a “whap!” Alarmed, he rushed to the window and looked out. One of the floats — the absurdly named “Lagoon Lounger” — was in the pool. Jennifer had obviously just thrown it in. His eyes focused on her provocative body, encased, unsurprisingly, in the wispiest of bikinis. As Art watched, she padded to the diving board, her body glistening in the sun, her hips swaying alluringly, causing Art’s throat to go dry once again and blood to gather in his groin.

Jennifer climbed up on the diving board. As she was poised there for a moment, Art’s eyes ran over the breasts straining against her halter top, her hardened nipples clearly evident, and the swell and valley of her vaginal mound contoured by the tight bikini bottoms. Art realized he was sweating, recognized the direction his thoughts were taking, and turned abruptly from the window as Jennifer dove in a graceful swan dive into the cool water.

Art went back to his desk and once again tried to work. But visions of the sexy teenage girl outside kept intruding on his thoughts and, again, he couldn’t concentrate.

His phone rang. He glanced at it and smiled. It was Lillian.

“Hi, darling. I just wanted to let you know we’re heading back and we’ll be there in a little over an hour,” she said.

“Lovely. See you soon.”

But he couldn’t seem to concentrate at all now, and after ten futile minutes he closed the program, scraped back his chair, and prowled into the kitchen. He opened a beer and sipped it. After some thought, he decided to go out and tell Jennifer they would be back in an hour. He also wanted to ask her about the University of Chicago and medical school.

But as he walked toward the pool, he saw no sign of Jennifer; the pool was deserted. Had she left? He decided to take a quick look in the cabana. He stepped up to the entrance and knocked lightly. There was no response. He opened the door, taking a step forward to peer inside. He heard the sound of the shower spray and then suddenly froze in shocked immobility at the sight that greeted his eyes. The bathroom door was wide open and, in the full-length mirror on the side of the room, he could clearly see the reflection of the dark-haired teenager’s nude body inside the open shower stall.

Her back was to him and parts of her lushly curved form were covered in a soapy film from the bar she held in one slim hand, rubbing herself briskly, humming softly. He gazed at her sumptuous, nude buttocks, their whiteness contrasting sharply with the rest of her tanned skin. Her legs parted slightly and she bent forward, sliding the bar of soap up and down along her soft, inner thighs, her vulva clearly visible to Art from where he stood.

Delicious excitement coursed through Art’s body as he stared at Jennifer’s sheer voluptuousness. He told himself he had to turn around, walk away from there, get out before he completely lost control of himself -- but he couldn’t move, he could only stand rooted to the spot with the pleasure growing stronger in his lower belly now, his cock rising to full erection and his balls aching dully. God, her body was so lush and sensual!! The lovely teenager stepped under the full force of the shower spray now, and Art watched the soap film disappear, leaving her in full nakedness for his fevered gaze. His mouth was bone dry as he watched Jennifer rub soap over her rear end and into the cleft between her buttocks. Art stifled a low groan of frustration, shame and mounting lust.

Then, Jennifer rinsed off her rear end, turned off the spray and reached for her towel, her naked breasts coming into view for the first time. Art watched the nubile young girl begin to dry herself with the towel, rubbing her face and hair, lowering the towel to her belly, rubbing between her legs. Art gaped at her breasts, swaying and jiggling as she worked, his testicles aching with desire.

Then the towel came up and she was drying her breasts, sliding the towel under them, lifting the creamy orbs, squeezing them together. She kept this up for what seemed to Art like an eternity, and he could feel his cock begin to secrete droplets of seminal fluid in his wild arousal. He stood transfixed, barely able to breathe as the lovely dark-haired teenager seemed to make slow, tormenting love to every part of her body with the towel, between her legs, between her buttocks, over and under her breasts...

Finally, Jennifer lowered the towel, stood motionless for a moment, and then tossed it over the top of the stall side.

Art moved back, gently pulling the door toward him.

Then he almost jumped out of his skin as he heard his name.

“Art,” Jennifer exclaimed. “Don’t go!” She had turned and was looking directly at him.

He opened his mouth but couldn’t form words, his brain paralyzed by shock.

Jennifer’s lips curved into a provocative smile and she said in a low-toned voice, “You were watching me in there, weren’t you, Art?” she said. “You saw me drying myself, didn’t you? I could see you out of the corner of my eye in the mirror.”

“Oh God, Jennifer, I ... I’m so sorry, I was just coming to tell you, they’re heading back. Be here in an hour” he mumbled.

Jennifer’s eyes traveled in that slow, insolent way over his body, stopping at the jutting front of his shorts, and her smile widened.

“Mmmm, you look like you enjoyed the view!” she said, eyes fixed on the contours of his erection.

“N-no,” Art stuttered.

“Oh, you can’t fool me! I can see how hard you are. Hey, don’t be embarrassed. You’re telling me you’re liking what you see.”

Ohh God help me! Art thought miserably. I’ve got to get out of here.

She walked toward him, breasts bouncing slightly as she moved.