Elliot warned me before he left for the summer. "My sister is totally gay, like lesbian." He only had a moment to chat over the three-foot-high chain link fence separating my yard from his parents' yard, the swimming pool behind him reflecting the sun. She'd just returned from a college exchange program in Paris, he explained, and intended to hang out by the pool for July while she pondered what to do now that she had her degree.
That was all he had time to say before he wheeled his suitcase out to the driveway to catch a ride from his parents to Bar Harbor. He'd unexpectedly landed a job on one of those big cruise ships that make their way from New York up the coast to Nova Scotia and back. Elliot would be gone all summer, which dashed our plans of making out over and over again in my basement. Since he considered himself "
75% straight
," I would put money down that a hot looking twink like him would get laid with both sexes all the way up and down the east coast. It was an awesome job for someone with only one year of collage left, a total party-work balance.
Since he and his parents knew I was gay, I was surprised that Elliot felt he needed to give me this warning about his older sister. I understood better later that afternoon when a splash in their pool caught my attention. I looked up from my computer and out my home-office window on the second floor of my house.
Wow! She climbed the ladder from the deep end, dripping and hot, in the smallest of bikinis. Like Elliot, she had very red hair, cropped boyishly short yet with a funky style, much shorter on one side than the other. Her breasts weren't big, but they were high and shapely, her cleavage deep and alluring. It's a good thing I'm gay, or I'd have found her very distracting, and I had a lot of work on my plate. Still, I admire female beauty like fine art.
Yet, over the next week, I found myself frequently drawn to that window. Like Elliot, she liked to spend a lot of time in the backyard wearing next to nothing on warm days. She even mowed the lawn in her bikini, although she wisely sported steel toed boots and hockey shin pads to protect her legs. While incongruous, she could pull the look off and still look hot.
Things really heated up after the weekend when her parents went away for two weeks for a summer vacation. I expected her to throw at least one party, but instead she read books or scrolled a tablet when she wasn't swimming or sunning. Monday afternoon, I looked up from work and drew in my breath. She was tanning face down on the flattened lounge chair, her back naked, no bikini top, her beautiful bum barely concealed by her bikini bottoms, which ventured dangerously close to a thong. I suddenly imagined rubbing sun tan lotion into those pale, firm buttocks, and I surprised myself by popping wood. Maybe I'm 25% hetero after all, but I'm definitely at least 75% gay.
I became suspicious about how much Elliot had told her about our adventures when a splash from the pool caught my attention after sunset while I scrubbed a pot. I looked through the kitchen window over my sink and again caught my breath. She was skinny dipping, swimming laps completely naked, her pale buttocks flexing as she kicked. Wait a minute! Like Elliot when he skinny dipped a few weeks ago, the pool lights and the patio lights were on, the backyard far from dark. When she rose up the ladder, she put me in mind of Botticelli's The Birth of Venus only with shorter hair, a real woman with curves. She looked straight at my kitchen window as she dried her hair, making no attempt to hide her nudity.
What. The. Fuck! Was she testing whether I was truly gay? She strolled lazily through her backyard to the house, casting a second glance at me, only two car lengths from my kitchen window. She even gave an impish wave before she slid open her patio door. I tipped the pot I had been washing the wrong way and sloshed hot water all over my legs and feet.
"Fuck!" I dropped the pot into the sink.
Her motivation puzzled me throughout the next day. Was she an exhibitionist? Did she want to see if she could hold a gay guy's attention, an ego thing? Worse, did she think she could fuck me straight? I've met women who think they can "
fix
" me, that if I just got properly laid with a woman, I'd stop being gay. That's as bad as a guy who thinks he can fuck a lesbian straight.
I decided to wash the dinner dishes late again, and sure enough I got the same show, her rising out of the pool, her bare breasts firm and dripping, even her pink nipples visible since she'd left on all the back yard lights. My kitchen light over the sink must definitely illuminate me, so she knew I watched. Yet, she strolled naked around the pool, sipping a beer and letting the warm summer air dry her off before she headed into her house.
While watching her, I got hard, which definitely confused me. I put it down to memories of gay sex with her brother, Elliot. Yet she intrigued me. I'd had straight sex before and it was okay, but I way preferred men.
Rain ended her backyard activities until Saturday afternoon when the clouds cleared and the heat dialed up. I took the opportunity to get out and weed my flower garden. I even shucked my shirt, going in just my shorts so that I could get a little sun on my back. While I pulled dandelions from the moist soil, the sliding patio door to her house opened and closed. Because I was on my knees with my back to her yard, I only caught a brief glimpse when I turned my head. Her bikini was so skimpy, her hips and breasts so nice, that again I popped wood, but concentrating on my garden took care of that, and I enjoyed my flowers.
My conscience did nag. I hadn't even introduced myself, which wasn't very neighborly, so when I stood, brushing the soil from my hands, I decided I should say a quick hello. After all, she knew I'd seen her naked. I turned, crossing my lawn toward the little chain link fence, but stopped in shock.
She lay on a lounge chair facing my yard, completely naked except for sunglasses and a black wide-brimmed hat, which was unnecessary since her body was shaded by a big umbrella, a good idea because her pale skin would fry in this sun. Her cute freckles spread from her shoulders down her chest, petering out above her breasts, her nipples pointy and prominent. Her reddish-orange bush stood out, exotic and enticing even though her legs were crossed. She hadn't moved, and with her sun glasses I couldn't tell if her eyes were closed or open. She had to be asleep. Otherwise, she couldn't miss me standing less than ten feet away on the other side of the flimsiest of fences.
I'm not a perv. While I froze for a moment, I decided I should tiptoe away and head back into my own house. I admit that I did linger, drinking in her beauty, just a little longer than necessary. She startled me when she spoke.
"I thought you were gay." She hadn't moved, as if asleep and enjoying the heat of the day. Only her lips moved. Was that the game she was playing, testing my gayness?
"I'm gay. I'm not dead. I can appreciate beauty."
"Like you appreciated my brother's beauty?"
My world shook. I had just assumed that Elliot had kept us on the down low since he was only "
25% gay
" as he claimed. "Wow! He told you about us?"
"My brother and I tell one another everything. He knew I was gay, like totally lesbian, a couple of years before I came out to my parents. I hear you popped his anal cherry."
Holy crap! They did tell one another everything.
"More like he popped it." Why did I sound defensive? "I was tied to the bed at the time. He impaled his ass on my cock." Yes, I deliberately tried to shock her, but she remained still and serene.
"Yeah, he told me every detail. It really turned me on that you gave up all control, let Elliot do things his way, in his time. Hey, you're not being fair here. I'm completely naked. Drop those shorts and let me see that fat head Elliot so loved."
Telling her to fuck off and heading into my house seemed like a good idea, but it turned me on that it was a command, not a request. My neighbors on the opposite side of my yard and at the back had thick cedar hedges as well as pine board fences. Her neighbor on the far side had a very well maintain cedar hedge too, and everyone on our dead-end street seemed to be away this week, so I decided what the hell. I dropped my shorts and shoved down my boxer briefs, allowing my erection to spring free and stand high. I kicked out of the boxers and walked to with a few feet of the little chain link fence. Since we were playing this game of show and tell, I could stare at her beautiful curves without blushing.
"Nice cock." She still hadn't moved, and if she weren't speaking, I'd think she was asleep.
"I thought you were a lesbian," I said.
"Oh, I am. Totally into girls, not guys, but like you said, I can admire beauty. You're in super good shape for thirty-one. Elliot says you're a runner and a swimmer, and it shows. Besides, I'm not into hairy men, and I love that you have a smooth chest."
"Thanks." My cheeks warmed. Was I blushing? I am pretty proud of my flat stomach, my abs, my lightly muscled shoulders. I'm too old to be considered a twink since I'm over thirty, but my efforts have certainly kept the twinkie aspects of my body firm. For a moment neither of us spoke, and it turned me on that we shamelessly drank in each other's naked forms in broad daylight. It was so naughty.
Finally, she sat up and took off her sun glasses so that I could see her brown eyes. "Jamie, right? I'm Madison, Elliot's older sister. He tells me you have quite the dungeon in your basement."
Again, my cheeks warmed. "Wow, You and Elliot are super close."
She stood, dropping her sunglasses onto her lounge along with her wide brimmed hat, and picked up a small pack from because the chair, slinging it over her right shoulder.
"I want to see it," she said. Without waiting for an invitation, she walked up to where the fence ended at the back of her house, opening the little gate that gave access to the strip of grass between our houses. She opened my complementary gate and let herself into my back yard.
Was my jaw hanging down? Anyone walking or driving by on the street who happened to look between our houses would have gotten quite an eyeful of her naked body. Daring!
"Come on, gay boy. Show me this dungeon." She put her hands on her hips, her feet slightly apart, like a military commander giving an order. It was so incongruous, this naked freckled woman, her breasts thrust shamelessly forward. She smirked at my discomfort.
"Okay, why not? Since you know all about it." I tried to sound casual, but my heart rate definitely picked up. I was a gay naked man with a solid erection, leading a naked lesbian into my basement dungeon. What did she have in mind? A dozen scenarios flashed: me in the pillory, my butt red from the flogger, her tied with her hands above her head, her bum and breasts red from my attention. I really didn't know what I wanted to happen, but I wanted something to happen.
I led the way downstairs, flipping on the pot-lights, turning and stepping aside to wave her into the dungeon. She stopped and whistled, giving me a sly glance before she continued deeper to inspect my half-finished basement full of toys.
"Elliot's right. You are a kinky fuck."
She headed for the pillory first, checking out the holes for the head and wrists. "Like the puritan punishment only for fucking. You ever fuck anyone who you've put in this contraption?"
If I wasn't already hard, I would've popped wood just from the memory. "Elliot fucked me when I was stuck in that, and he's not the first, but it was his first time fucking a guy."
