I first spotted him out the back of the house, extending the deck.

He was bare from the waist up, had biceps well worth breaking laws for, a chest that glistened with sweat, and as I found out later, a gorgeously innocent, naive smile.

It took me three days to convince him his conscientious half-naked body would be comfortable in the pool. I talked him from there to inside the house much more quickly. The pink bikini top I shoved down the front of his shorts might have helped. That or the promise that he could check whether or not I was a natural redhead.

The final target was to get him inside me, and we both knew it was going to happen.

He had to be talked into it first, though. I let him run through his arguments. "Listen Ainsley, what if your father comes home? I need this job."

"I told you, no one will be coming home for hours. Relax. You want a drink?"

"I ... God. I could have a beer, I guess. You understand, right? I have a girlfriend?"

I turned to the fridge. "Yeah, so? I don't want her. I like men. Uh, beer ... beer ... Oh, here we go."

He took the beer, and sat on the sofa, staring at my bare breasts, and the remainder of my bikini. We both knew he was committed, no matter what he said. "Yeah, but ... well, there's no way I can have a relationship with you."

"I don't want a relationship. Well, except right now, with that bulge in your shorts. Or is that my bikini, Samuel?"

"No, no, that's me. Okay, I'm confused, but I'm beyond arguing. You goddam better not change your mind!"

"Fat chance."

He put the beer down on the coffee table, and looked at me. I swung myself around until I was crouching astride his solid thighs, my knees outside his legs. He stopped hesitating then, and took me in his arms.

I loved the feel of his chest against mine, and the position meant that I was able to lift myself to his height. I pressed my lips to his, and as our bodies undulated I explored his mouth.

Our hands were all over the place. His solid fingers found their way to my hard nipples, and tweaked carefully. When I let out a sigh, he applied more pressure. I groaned, and the wetness spread between my parted legs. I repositioned myself carefully until my bikini covered mound was pressed against his very obvious bulge, and started to move against it.

That sufficed for a while, until Samuel's fingers found their way to my buttocks. The bikini didn't offer much resistance, and his fingers slid down the inside, his touch electric on my skin. He seemed to know exactly how to take me over, and when his fingertips lightly slid over the puckered opening I didn't even jump. I just pressed my ass hard against them, alternating between that and pushing myself hard against his solid cock.

After a few minutes, I couldn't stand it any more. I lifted my mouth from his and put it close to his ear. Without stopping the undulation of our bodies, I whispered to him.

"Samuel, honey?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you mind?"

"Mind what, sweetie?"

"Mind if I come?"

"God, no!"

"Well then, just keep ... doing that."

"You like ... this?"

"I like all of it, but oh, yes, that's ... That's very ... Now?"

"Now? Oh. You horny thing. Yes. Now."

I wasn't able to speak any more then. I pressed myself back against his fingers, welcoming a little more pressure, a little more invasion. I got it. He pressed the tip of one finger more precisely, spread the pucker just a little, and I screamed as I orgasmed, my thighs clenching hard around his, my ass doing its best to crush his invading finger.

As soon as I regained some control over my muscles I wrapped my arms behind his back, and pulled his solid muscles towards me again. It was a signal, and he didn't miss it.

His hands were still cupping the cheeks of my ass, and he lifted me, as he stood from the sofa. I put my arms over his shoulders and let him take me wherever he wanted. It turned out he was heading down the hallway, and expected some help.

"Where's your room, honey?"

"Oh, yeah, ah ... take a left. Here."

"That's the laundry."

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Next one. You've distracted me."

He carried me into the room, across to the bed, and threw me down on my back. "Strange looking room for a girl," he said, looking around.

"Oh, yeah, well I'm a strange girl, right?"

"You sure are. Lift your ass." I did as I was told. He pulled the damp pink triangles from my hips, and then I lifted my feet from the bed so he could pull them off. He threw them to the floor, and then reached into his shorts and pulled out the bikini top. "There you go. Back together."

"Oh," I said to him with a smile. "I'm pleased to see you weren't lying."

"Lying? About what?"

"That bulge."

"Oh." He blushed a little then, and it looked good on him. He looked at me, grinned briefly, and unbuttoned his shorts. Unzipping himself slowly, he let his hand slide down the front between his shorts and his now obvious black briefs. "You know, you are a bad influence." His hand was sliding slowly up and down in his shorts as he spoke.

"Oh, why is that, Samuel?"

"The last three nights, the first thing I did after I got home was to strip down and stroke myself like this, thinking about you."

"Oh, I like being that kind of influence."

"And last night, I even had sex with my girlfriend, and then jerked off later. I haven't done that since ... well, probably since I was your age."

"I'm still not ashamed. You like me watching, don't you?"

"Yeah, for some reason, I do. I don't normally. See what I mean?"

"Yeah. You better not waste that, though."

"I won't. I want to come inside you, Ainsley. Not that you deserve it."

"You don't deserve it either, Samuel, but let's do it anyway. Now pull the shorts off."

"Say please."

"Please, Samuel, pull down the shorts, take off your briefs, and show me how you stroke it." That did it. He didn't speak any more. Just did what he was told. "That's better. God, it's bigger than I thought."

He stood there for a moment with his cock in his hand, his fingers slowly sliding up and down, until I beckoned to him. He took his hand off it then, and walked slowly towards me. I retreated a little up the bed, and lay back with my knees parted. He was never going to get a more blatant invitation, and he knew it.