Chapter 4

The heat lapped at their sun-soaked skin as the trio sat most of the morning on the patio, sipping cool drinks and occasionally diving into the refreshing pool.

Gwen lay in the chaise lounge, her hair spilled over her shoulders, her eyes shaded with sunglasses, the cool, perspiring bottom of the glass forming a wet ring on her slim tummy, one knee cocked up.

Music from the intercom wafted out into the warm afternoon air, disappearing through the breaths of hot air that exhaled on them from the south

"Good Lord, look at the time," Sybil exclaimed standing and looking at her watch.

"What is it?" Gwen blinked and set her glass on the table.

"I almost forgot. I have an appointment at five with some of my fund-raising friends. Look, why don't you and Bob just relax here. I'll be back in no time. The catering service is bringing everything for the party about seven. I'll be back no sooner than then. So don't you fuss around, Gwen. Leave everything to them, that's what they get paid for. You just relax in the sun."

She smiled and waved her dark red fingernails at Gwen. "Don't get up. Just soak in the sun."

"Bye," Bob waved at Sybil as the woman slid into the house, her ass-cheeks flicking up and down as she moved gracefully, her back straight, her breasts aiming ahead, proud, full ripe.

"You're lucky," Gwen said as she saw Sybil pass through the living room toward the front door, dressed in a smart suit with white gloves and complementing jewelry clinging to her vivacious body

"I know," he answered, putting the magazine down and stretching. "We enjoy life together. I guess that's the most important part of any relationship, enjoying it."

He stood and stretched again, sucking in a deep breath of air and puffing out his chest as he flexed his well-defined muscles.

He groaned and rubbed his shoulder. "Ouch, my back aches." He grimaced and bent over, touching his toes and swiveling his torso in wide arcs.

"Cramp?" Gwen asked, sitting up and studying the man's youthful body. Black, curly hair covered his chest, narrowing into a trough that plunged into his bathing suit and, she assumed, spread out to cover his testicles and pubic area.

"Yeah. Too much swimming. Guess I need a back rub."

Awkwardly, he reached around and rubbed his shoulder, grabbing a handful of flesh and kneading it.

"Can... can... I help?" Gwen offered timidly, her voice unsure.

"Hey, I'd appreciate that."

She stood, the loose top of the oversized bikini sagging and revealing the pink tops of her breasts where the sun had reddened them.

"Let's go inside, on the rug. More comfortable, Bob grunted, grimacing and walking ahead of her toward the house.

Gwen's heart pattered against her chest as she followed the man inside. The blood seemed to push out against her face, making her cheeks red and a warm glow stalk over her.

"Here's good," he said, flopping down on the rug and stretching his arms at his sides.

Timorously, Gwen knelt beside him and placed her small hands on his back. The contact with his firm, warm flesh sent shivers through her. Her hands didn't move for a moment, they just lay there resting, afraid.

"Up a bit, around the neck," he said softly, tucking his chin against his shoulder.

She let her hands slide up around his neck and squeezed, balling the flesh in her hands and pressing down against him with her fingers as she moved the skin around in a circle. Bob groaned and shifted his weight, raising his hips slightly and moaning as her hands worked faster and faster over the flesh and her breath came in short bursts.

She swallowed, trying to control the electric sensations that charged through her body. Her breasts swayed loosely in the halter as she rocked forward, pressing her palms as hard as she could against his knotted shoulder muscles. Again he squirmed, raising his hips and grinding them slightly so that his side touched her leg and pressed against her.

Her mouth was dry and she licked at her lips. A loud ringing filled her ears and the blood pumped against her temples like cymbals.

"Oh, that's so good, Gwen," he moaned, pushing his shoulders up against her hands and shifting his weight so that his side rubbed against her thigh.

"Harder, Gwen. Harder and faster."

His hips were moving as she rocked forward with all her weight and massaged the dark flesh around his shoulder.

"Dig deeper. Harder. Make it hurt." He murmured the words huskily, groaning and moaning as he had the night before into the intercom. Gwen's heart fluttered and her hands ached as she moved them deeper into his flesh, dragging the tips of her fingers across the small circle of skin and then flattening it out with the palm of her hand.

"Oh, God, Gwen. You're so good. Good."

She thought she couldn't breathe.

"B-better?" she managed, swallowing hard and hissing the words out.

"Lower. Lower." He commanded the words and Gwen complied, letting her hands work down to the center of his back.

"Is that good?"

"Lower."

She moved her hands down to the small of his back and rubbed near the top of his trunks. She thought about last night, the noises he had made with Sybil, what he had said about thinking about her, about the way he had talked to his wife in the security of his bedroom.

"M-my hands are tired," she choked, wanting to pull them away and dive into the pool to cool off.

"It still hurts, Gwen. A little more."

She couldn't say no. They had been so nice to her. She had to fight it. She was acting silly. Like a schoolgirl. She was a woman. She was married. She was...

"Down my legs, Gwen. Rub the backs of my thighs. That feels so good."

She lifted her hands off his back and looked at the hairy thighs with their muscles taut and tapering down to his bulging calves and leathery feet.

"All right," she whispered, her voice shaking, her hands jittery. She placed her palms on the meaty back of his thigh and began rubbing. Her breasts swung against her arms as she bent over him, pressing her weight down to help her soften the muscles. The nipples felt hard and hot and a wetness formed in the crotch of her bottoms. She had an urge to wrap her arms around his thighs and bury her face into his flesh, to kiss and lick him as she had heard Sybil do the night before, to please him as fully as she might Allen.

Slowly, he spread his legs and she could see the head of his hardening penis sticking out the bottom of his boxer trunks. She gasped and held her breath, looking around the room, trying to take her mind off the acorn-shaped instrument that grew a deep purple color as he shifted his hips again and again.

There was nothing wrong with that, she thought, glancing down at the snaking head compulsively. It's a normal reaction in men. She tried to look away, but her fascination with the appendage drew her eyes back to its dry, glazed, slitted head.

"Gwen?"

"Yes?" Her hands stopped and she shook.

"Rub me?"

"Where?" The word came out of nowhere. Her hands clutched the inside of his thigh.

"Up. Where it hurts, Gwen. God, it hurts."

"I... I..."

"Please, Gwen. Please?" His voice was husky and commanding.

She closed her eyes and slid her hand up toward the head of his cock. The back of her hand touched it and she froze, sucking in a deep breath and holding it. He hunched down and raised his arm, cupping her breast in his palm and squeezing, his head still tucked against his shoulder.

Gwen felt like fainting, but her hand opened and her fingers laced around the staff of his penis gently at first and then harder as her breath came in rapid pants.

The cock-head grew in her palm and she pulled it down slowly, feeling the hard flesh grow turgid and the sticky drops of clear fluid drip wetly into her hand.

He rubbed her breast, his fingers pulling the top of the bikini down. His hand was hot as it touched her enflamed nipple and pulled at it.

"Bob," she mumbled, pushing the cock against the side of his thigh.

His fingers tweaked the nipple and rolled it between his fingers. She looked at his back and his head lying flat on the rug. Take me, she begged in her mind, take me quickly Bob. Take me as you did Sybil last night.

He jumped up suddenly and Gwen jerked her hand away. He stared at her a moment and then ran out into the patio and dived into the pool. Gwen sat on the floor, her hands empty, her jaw hanging down against her chest, her halter baring one of her breasts.

She felt ashamed, embarrassed, alone sitting there in another woman's house with the thought of what she had almost done weighting her mind.

"Gwen? Gwen?"

She heard Bob's voice calling to her and stood, her heart beating excitedly.

"Come in. Come in the pool."

Slowly, she stood and adjusted the halter before walking out on the patio. Her eyes were cast down as she saw Bob's arm thrashing at the water and his powerful strokes drawing him closer toward the deep end of the pool. He pulled himself up on the hot concrete side and smiled.

"I'm sorry, Gwen. You see, you're a very attractive woman and..."

"I'm going to leave," Gwen said, nervously pulling at her fingers.

"No, don't." Bob pulled himself out of the water and grabbed her arms firmly. "Look. There's nothing wrong. I just got excited. I like you Gwen. Sybil likes you. Forget what happened. Nothing happened anyway. Look, I don't want to take advantage of you. I know how it is for you, your husband's away, you're a passionate woman. Nature is that way. Look. Dive in. Wash off. Laugh. We're going to have a good time tonight."

"All right," she said, her lower lip sticking out, her eyes still downcast. He tilted her chin up and kissed her lightly on the lips.

"Friends?"

"Friends," she answered, shivering at the touch of his wet lips on hers.

"Come on then. Let's get a quick dip before Sybil comes back. We're going to have a great time tonight. A great time."

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into the water with him.

"Sybil, I couldn't."

"Yes, and you will. I bought it because it was made for you. Now put it on Gwen, and let's not hear another word about it."

Gwen held up the lounging outfit and felt the rich, heavy material slide under her fingers.

"It's beautiful. Beautiful!"

"Glad you like it. Now, put it on and paint on a fresh face. Our guests will be here in a few minutes."

"How can I thank you for what you've done for me," Gwen said, her eyes wide and wet with appreciation.

"I'll think of something terribly devilish," Sybil said, a smile on her full, red lips. "Don't you worry about it, dear."

She left the room and Gwen hurriedly slipped into the lounging outfit. It was a perfect fit. She kicked around the room, twirling with an imaginary partner to an imaginary tune and then seated herself before the vanity and began limping her eyes with make-up.

"The plot sickens," Bob said twirling the swizzle stick around the martini pitcher. "Win her heart and then her cunt." He laughed sarcastically and stabbed an olive with a toothpick.

"How was the afternoon? As expected?"

"Down to the last syllable. You really are a bitch, Sybil. I wanted that little cunt around my packer."

"You'll get it. But it has to be done right."

"You know what you're doing I guess," Bob said lifting the glass to his lips and tasting the freshness of the Beefeater's.

"Tonight you'll make hay," Sybil said, reaching between his legs and squeezing his limp penis. "Tonight."

Three martinis later Gwen was laughing and mingling with the guests as fluidly as though she were the hostess. Her hair was swirled atop her head and she flicked her eyelashes like Sybil, closing them slowly and squeezing them for a second before opening them and letting a mischievous smile creep across her face. It was a contagious sensation of mimicking Sybil, but Gwen had no control over her actions. She was infatuated with the woman, and tried to copy her every movement and gesture. It was like being in another person's body, acting as they acted and enjoying the freshness and allurement of the reactions she withdrew from her admirers.

"War. I hate it," she said, pursing her lips and sucking the olive off the toothpick. The couple she spoke with were both older. The man was graying at the sides and the woman wore too much makeup. The powder cracked when she smiled and the birdfeet wrinkles around her eyes couldn't be hidden from Gwen's scrutinizing view.

"That's understandable," Martin Sievers said, brushing a piece of dandruff from the shoulder of his jacket. "I suppose Betty would hate it too if I were over there."

"Oh, I don't know. There's quite a few eligible men around to keep me happy," she said, looking at her husband coyly over the rim of her glass.

"Don't count on it," Gwen said boldly, shifting a hip out and resting her hand on it. "I haven't been asked out since Allen left." She tossed her head back and laughed.

"Have you tried?" Betty Sievers arched an eyebrow and sniffed the aroma of the martini.