(this is an entry in the “Summer Lovin'” story contest for 2013. It takes a bit before the “good stuff,” but I hope you’ll enjoy it if you stick with it until the end. Thanks!)
If you didn’t know her, your first impression of Sonya would be that she’d descended from a long and particularly prestigious line of varsity cheerleaders. Tanned, blonde, and sporty—she struck that perfect balance between fit and curvy. But she didn’t get her figure from shaking pom-poms at some football game, no sir. She got it from fencing. From stabbing people, competitively. She had a gift for it.
That’s how we first met, actually—she joined the university fencing team with me during our second year of college after transferring from overseas. The guys and the girls competed separately but trained together, and I’m happy to say that I fell in love the very first time Sonya jabbed her foil into my breastbone. She beat me without giving up a single point, then tore off her mask and shook out her long, wavy hair.
“You’re really good,” she said, further charming me with her adorable Australian accent.
I was still trying to figure out how I’d been so thoroughly bested by an opponent six inches shorter than me. “I know I’m good. You’re just much, much better.”
Sonya scrunched up her face into a guilty smile.
“I’m Michael,” I said, extending my hand. But instead of accepting the handshake, Sonya raised her blade, taunting me:
“You wanna try again? Who knows, you might get lucky.”
I DID get lucky. Not in the next match, mind you (she kicked my ass again, just as thoroughly as she had before), no, I got lucky later that night, after she invited me back to her dorm room to watch the big swordfight from Scaramouche.
We hit it off so well, we wound up hardly paying any attention to the movie. I couldn’t believe how compatible we were. We could practically finish each other’s sentences.
She was like a wild, glowing ball of light. Feisty and earnest. Bouncy, flouncy fun. Filled to the brim with art and ideas and an endless supply of energy. And for whatever reason, she was every bit as smitten with me as I was with her. I had never been so happy to lose a fencing match.
By two in the morning, Sonya and I were busy practicing a very different type of thrusting. She was moaning incoherently while I plunged into her from behind, sheathing myself to the hilt inside her warm body. I scooped up those deliciously soft tits in my hands and squeezed…
Sonya cried out in sharp ecstasy—her voice so fucking sexy—that boiling hot body, trembling in my arms—
I pulled out, roaring like an animal as I erupted all over her perfectly formed ass.
When Sonya and I both drifted back down to earth, we turned and saw her roommate standing awkwardly in the doorway, still clutching her keys. Eyes wide open…
At that moment, something snapped inside of us. Suddenly, having somebody else to watch became the biggest aphrodisiac imaginable. The following evening, right after fencing practice, Sonya dragged me into the girls’ shower room, plopped me down on the bench inside, and promptly straddled my cock with her beautiful, naked body. Not a second later, all the other girls on the team strolled innocently inside and found Sonya riding me. Most of them ran off, giggling and shrieking, but two of the girls got such a kick out of our little exhibitionist display, they actually stayed to watch us finish.
After that, our little “shows” became commonplace around campus. We became minor celebrities at school, even had a few jokes written about us in the school newspaper.
Sonya was the love of my life, and we were inseparable for the remainder of our college years. We studied together, we ate together, we even tried to survive that awful P90X workout thing together—so it went without saying that we were gonna move in together after graduating.
But then, at the last minute, the school randomly changed its mind and determined that two of Sonya’s transfer credits would no longer count towards her degree. Apparently “Semantic Linguistics” wasn’t “real” science. Try taking THAT awesome little piece of irony out for a test drive.
We were kind of fucked. The news came so late in the semester, Sonya and I had already signed the year-long lease on our new apartment—across the country in CALIFORNIA. I had a job there, waiting for me to start in a matter of weeks.
So, much as it sucked, our only option was to date long-distance for the summer. Actually, it wasn’t even the whole summer, just eight weeks. It was far from ideal, but we’d survive. How hard could it be?
Very, as it turns out. VERY hard. Like, throbbing, engorged, non-stop Viagra-type hard. I found that out on my very first day on the job.
CHAPTER 1 — MY VERY FIRST DAY ON THE JOB
They called me the “Inter-Departmental Liaison,” but really, my responsibilities were basically limited to hauling shit up and down the stairs and driving it back and forth across town, because the two guys who owned the company refused to work in the same building as one another.
Still, I couldn’t complain. The pay was absurdly high for what I was doing, and for a guy just out of college it was a great entry-level opportunity to learn the business; meet the vendors, get the lay of the land, and get a sense for how things worked in the real world.
Like I said, I had two bosses, in two different offices, on opposite sides of town. My boss at Site A was Jerry—an older guy who actually made the effort to personally introduce me to everybody. Most of them acknowledged me with little more than a meager, monotone, “Hey.” I wasn’t particularly taken with any of them.
At least, that’s how I felt until Jerry introduced me to—
“Mike, this is Claire, my assistant. She’ll be your primary contact here at Site A.”
I tried to play it cool as the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life rose from her desk to greet me. She swept back a few strands of short, copper-colored hair and smiled thinly, giving me a quick once-over with her piercing, ice-blue eyes. Maybe five or six years older than me, Claire had a cool sophistication that would have looked right at home on the cover of a Paris fashion magazine.
“Nice to meet you, Michael.”
There was something cold about the way she smiled at me. Sure, it was polite—but it felt deliberately polite. As if she wanted me to know that it required actual effort for her to be nice to me.
Regardless of her frosty personality, there was no denying that the woman was a knockout. Tall, slim, immaculately dressed in a tight pencil skirt that showed off long, exquisitely toned legs. And—because Claire had apparently won the proverbial Puberty Super Lotto—she was top-heavy as well, filling out her designer blouse with a set of big, succulent tits, wholly undeserved on such an otherwise slender body.
The more I thought about it, I decided maybe it was a good thing Claire wasn’t warmer towards me. Given that my girlfriend would be out of town for the next two months, the last thing I needed was some gorgeous woman flirting with me for four hours a day.
Which, of course, is exactly what I got with Tami.
She was my contact across town at Site B.
Having grown up in Seattle, Tami brought with her a fun-loving, rock and roll sense of style. She was about 22 years old and at least partially Japanese-American, but she was about as far from the cliché “demure, petite Asian flower” as you could possibly imagine: wild, friendly, and incorrigibly flirtatious.
She also had curves like you wouldn’t believe. A soft, voluptuous body with a nicely plump ass and—
Her tits were huge. Like, same-size-as-her-entire-head huge. Tami had the sort of breasts that invited comparisons to the largest available items at your local produce department.
I silently reminded myself not to drool.
She jumped up from her desk and bounced across the room to meet me. I extended a hand to greet her, but Tami just swatted it aside and instead gave me a full-on hug—crushing the entirety of those unbearably soft tits against my body.
As she hugged me, Tami whispered, “I can’t tell you how great it is to finally meet you! There are NO people my age at Site B, they’re all like fifty or sixty. I have nobody to talk to. Imagine how stoked I was when I found out the new IDL was gonna be some cute, young guy!”
Aw crap. Did she really just say “cute?”
By the time I got home from that first day of work, I knew I was in trouble. My muscles ached from carrying boxes up stairs all day, and yet I was still sporting an erection that wouldn’t go away. I couldn’t believe my situation. Eight hours of each day—half my waking life—I was gonna be working alongside the two sexiest women I had ever laid eyes on.
And here I was, without my girlfriend for another TWO MONTHS. The sexual frustration was gonna be intolerable.
As I staggered up to my front door and fumbled to get my key in the lock, I consoled myself with the knowledge that I would only have to deal with Tami and Claire while I was at work. At least once I was off the clock, I wouldn’t have to—
It was Tami’s voice. I looked up to see her and Claire standing in the hall, three doors down from my apartment.
“What are you guys doing here?” I asked.
“We live here,” Claire curtly replied. “We’re roommates.”
Tami shook her head in disbelief, laughing, “Is that really your apartment?”
“Yeah, I moved in last night…”
“I can’t believe it! What are the odds? We’re gonna be neighbors!”
An hour later, I finally reconnected with Sonya via webcam, and even over the computer she could see how flustered I was.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
“I just… I just REALLY wish you were here.”
She grinned and told me how sweet I was. God, she was beautiful. I reminded myself that I really was a lucky bastard to have a woman like her in my life.
Then the building’s electricity went out.
No lights, no computer, and no way to charge my cell phone’s dead battery. But worst of all? No air-conditioning. It was the middle of summer, and the temperature in my apartment quickly rose to over 100 degrees.
Luckily—or unluckily, depending on how you look at it—our apartment complex had a pool. My swim trunks were still packed away god knows where, but I figured the black boxer-briefs I had on were modest enough to go out in public. So I stripped to my undies, headed down to the pool, and dove into the cool blue water as fast as I could.
It wasn’t as crowded as you’d think, given the insane heat. All told, there were only six other people in the water when I went down there. There were two little kids wearing floaties, their parents, an eighty-year-old woman in a mumu who just wanted to get her feet wet, and some creepy-looking older guy with a burgundy speedo and a big gold chain around his neck.
I tried my best not to think about the contributions those two little kids were making to the chemical composition of the water as I floated on my back, enjoying the sensation of weightlessness. At last, a bit of relaxation after a long day of carrying heavy shit up and down flights of stairs.
One by one, the others got up and left the pool area, until only me and the old woman remained. Unbidden, my mind started conjuring up some predictably racy thoughts about my two beautiful coworkers/neighbors. Tami and Claire… I idly wondered what Sonya would think of the pair of them when she finally moved out here in a couple months. Would she be weirded-out when she realized I’d been in such close, constant proximity to two world-class specimens of sexy? Or even jealous?
No, that would be silly. Sonya wasn’t the jealous type, anyway, and it’s not like she expected me to spend the rest of my life with blinders on, not even noticing when another attractive women crossed my path. Hell, there’s no crime in just LOOKING at the two of them, is there? Course not! Just so long as looking was all I did, and nothing else.
No matter how badly I wanted to.
Clang! The pool gate slammed shut. I lazily spun my head to see who was joining me at the pool—
And there they were, strolling towards me. My two gorgeous tormentors, their delicious bodies wrapped up in beach towels. I threw them a friendly smile and a casual wave of my hand, trying to play it cool and not let on that my heart was already doing somersaults in my chest in anticipation of what I was going to see when those towels came off.
Please be bikinis, please be bikinis, please be bikinis…
Don’t be weird, brain.
“How’s the water?” Claire asked politely.
“Wet,” I grinned.
“Works for me!” Tami cheered, and she promptly dropped her towel.
Her suit wasn’t a bikini, but I wasn’t gonna complain about the view. Hot damn, those curves of hers were fantastic. She had on a blinding white one-piece that stretched across her luscious body like a second skin.
She took a running leap into the water, and my cock was already granite hard by the time she popped up for air and swiped the long, wet strands of hair off her smiling face.
“Whoo!” Tami cheered, then spun to face her still-dry friend. “Get in, it feels great!”
But Claire just circled along the edge of the pool, over to the shallow end, and dipped in her toe to test the temperature.
Tami turned to me with a conspiring grin, “She’s kind of a chicken.”
“I am not a chicken,” Claire huffed impatiently. “I just don’t like diving into ice cold water without checking the temperature first.”
Tami burst out laughing, “How could the water be ice cold, girl? It’s a million bajillion degrees in the shade. We’re lucky this pool isn’t boiling our pretty asses like lobsters.”
Claire ignored her and went to strip off her beach towel—but she stopped at the last second, quickly giving me an appraising glance. From the look in her eyes, it was obvious why she was hesitant: Claire was wondering if it would make things awkward at work if I saw her in whatever skimpy outfit she had decided to wear to the pool.
I decided to make things easy on her and looked away, diving for fun down to the bottom of the pool and paddling around, hoping the exercise might do something to bring down my outrageous erection. No luck.
As I popped back up to the surface, I saw Claire’s towel strewn across the side of the pool, and reflexively spun to catch a quick glimpse of her glorious, fair-skinned body as it slipped gracefully beneath the water.
Unlike Tami, Claire had decided to wear a two-piece; an itty-bitty little nothing of a suit. The top was gold, just a bit of string and a pair of positively immodest triangles to support the soft flesh of her tits. I didn’t get a great look at the bottoms, but they were pink and pearlescent, and the way they were cut really did a great job of showing off Claire’s incredibly tight ass and long, lithe legs.
As I tried to start a conversation with them, I silently wondered what they thought of me thus far. I consider myself a decently good-looking guy, and between the fencing team and my fairly active lifestyle, I’ve always kept in pretty good shape. Still, I didn’t begin to approach these girls on the hotness scale, and I seriously doubted they’d been fantasizing about me all day the way I’d been fantasizing about them.
Still, what if one of them was interested in me? Okay, yeah, Claire definitely wasn’t, with her icy smile and curt handshake—but what about Tami? She had called me “cute” at the office, and there was no mistaking all that flirting (and no way in hell was that girl unaware of the effect her “friendly” hugs had on me, rubbing those great big titties of hers all over my chest).
Maybe she was just a tease, but I figured it would probably be a good idea if I found a way to subtly drop the fact that I was in a serious relationship sooner rather than later. Who knows? It might even make Claire loosen up around me. Yeah. I should definitely slip my girlfriend’s existence into the conversation.
“Does the power go out here often?” I asked instead.
“Oh my god, lately it’s been happening all the time!” Tami answered.
Claire added, “Too many people running their air conditioners at once, we think. But we’ve only got one building manager who can fix stuff and he’s only here in the morning.”
Tami caught me checking her out, and shot me a naughty smile. “Good thing we have this pool to keep cool in the heat. I bet we’ll be bumping into you down here a lot this summer.”
She emphasized “bumping into” by literally bumping her body against mine.
Yeah, okay, she’s definitely hitting on you, Mike. Better mention your girlfriend.
Tami continued treading water beside me, and I did my best to ignore the way her breasts were swaying beneath the water.
Her name’s Sonya, remember? You’ve been dating for three years. Love of your life? Tell these girls you’re off the market!
Was it just me, or had Tami’s swimsuit turned just a touch more transparent than it had been before, when it was dry? In retrospect, I really wasn’t doing a very good job of maintaining eye-contact.
Actually, I thought to myself, what’s the hurry? So this girl is flirting with you, there’s no harm in that. She’s super hot and it’s not every day a girl who looks like this makes a pass at you. Maybe you should just leave it be, for the moment. Tami’s having fun, why put a damper on it? And Sonya’s not even in the same state as you, she wouldn’t get hurt if you flirted back a little, would she? It’s not like you’re gonna let anything ACTUALLY happen here.
You’re not gonna ACTUALLY bring Tami back to your apartment and strip that wet bathing suit off of her body with your teeth. You’re not gonna ACTUALLY slip a finger between her legs just so you can hear her moan while you spend hours licking and sucking on her heaving breasts. You’re not gonna ACTUALLY fuck her senseless, in every possible position and on every available surface in your home.
Sure, you probably COULD do all that. If you really wanted to. I mean, she is clearly hitting on you…
“My girlfriend’s gonna be so pissed when she finds out about these power outages,” I hurriedly blurted out. The words sounded more forced and desperate than they probably should have. “She and I already signed a year lease.”
Tami kept smiling, but I saw a bit of the wind go out of her sails. She quietly let herself drift a few feet further from me in the pool, for propriety’s sake.
Claire, on the other hand, suddenly looked like a completely different person. She hadn’t shown me a genuine smile even once, all day—but as soon as she heard me say the words “my girlfriend,” she instantly relaxed. She started acting friendly—even silly. It made me wonder if her whole icy persona wasn’t just some sort of subconscious defense mechanism she’d evolved to defend against constantly getting hit on at work.
The girls insisted I tell them about Sonya—she was going to be their neighbor too, after all—and so I laid out the facts of our whole frustrating, long-distance situation.
“Eight weeks without seeing each other? That’s awful!” Tami said.
“Tell me about it.”
“Do you even know anybody else out here?” Claire asked, frowning. “Or are you all by yourself until then?”
“Well, I don’t exactly plan to spend the summer holed-up in my apartment with the curtains drawn—but no, I don’t really know anybody out here. Not yet, anyway. Haven’t quite figured out what I’m gonna do for a social life now that I’m officially a Californian.”
My eyes travelled back and forth between the two women in the pool with me: Tami—short, curvy, and cute. Claire—tall, slender, and striking. Each of them ridiculously, impossibly beautiful in her own way.
I laughed, “Although, I suppose I could have had a worse first night here than meeting the two of you.”