Blame It On Rio De Janeiro

Incendiary Summer

It can get sad for a moment, because now is the last month of summer .. But let's not let this blues get our thoughts) Let's have a little more fun this summer! With pleasure

- Withheld by request

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Those aren't my words. Those came from a model on the Literotica 18+ Webcam site who asked that I withhold her stage name. I always do.

What a beautiful sentiment from a beautiful woman, but Sonya is my only webcam love and has cast a spell on me to try and cast this new woman out. The forces of nature are due to clash!

That's a story for another time. I must let Incendiary Summer be the passion burning through me tonight. Forgive me Sonya. Tonight's fantasy is about another woman. You know what won't happen. I am completely yours when it comes to that.

Fantasy time:

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Gerard "Gerry" Stevens was a rich man. A very rich man. He had started as an importer of tropical fruits and nuts and now sat atop one of the largest food store chains in the United States.

His partner, Ezekiel "Zeke" Evans, was a marketing genius. He liked to take credit for their success and kept reminding Gerry to try and present himself with a better appearance by doing things like printing business cards which had their commonly used names in quotes.

Zeke was a pain in the ass. Gerry hadn't gone by the name Gerard since his grandmother called him that in the eighties.

Gerry steered the van into the drive and parked near the entrance to the house. Four men rushed out to greet him and carried his supplies inside. Gerry liked to work with people. He liked to know a little bit about them and to get to know what motivates them. It was what made him such a great leader.

Zeke interpreted the whole thing to mean Gerry liked to get his hands dirty. To get down in the trenches and crush rock with the common worker. To be used.

But this was going too far.

Zeke had married a younger woman, his "trophy wife" as he called her, about 20 years ago. They had three children, all girls. His wife, Juanita, was having a midlife crisis at the ripe age of 40. She was convinced her body had gone to waste from the ravages of childbearing. She actually looked great. Her Latino heritage was well framed by her long legs and tight abdomen. Where the damage had occurred from having babies was unclear to Gerry. Maybe her large breasts fell to her knees when she undid her bra.

Gerry was a painter. A very good painter. He had picked it up as a hobby in youth and never did it for anything but his own pleasure. Many offers were given for his work, but he cherished them all and politely refused. Zeke had insisted that Gerry paint his wife's portrait. Multiple portraits, actually. They were all to be in various poses while wearing a variety of swimsuits. Then they would be mounted on an obnoxious wall that Zeke had ordered built around their gigantic pool.

Gerry thought it was the dumbest idea he had ever heard of. This was exactly the reason he never married. A woman could make an utter fool out of a man.

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Zeke was rambling on and on. The press was there and cameras were rolling. There was no shutting him up when that happened. He was showing off the pool and his ridiculous wall. His wife and children were introduced. A huge unveiling ensued where Juanita basically did a striptease on the 5 o'clock news, dropping her robe to show off her first bikini. The cameramen then started heading toward Gerry. He felt like he was going to vomit.

They stopped instead and introduced the famous Native American artist Reince Whitehorse. He was an icon here in Oklahoma where he was born and raised. Gerry had insisted that his name not be associated with this project. Zeke agreed, but only on the condition that Gerry pay for this entire affair, a sham press conference and Reince Whitehorse pretending to be the artist. Reince and Gerry went way back. Reince did the whole act for the cost of one bottle of Corona. Without any lime. Gerry had the feeling that cost had just gone up to 2 bottles after seeing the pomp and bombast unfolding before him.

Gerry mindlessly bumped into someone. It was Zeke's oldest daughter, Isabella. She had her two sisters Maria and Andrea with her. "My Dad is a black hole of idiocy!" Isabella bemoaned. She didn't comment on Gerry bumping her. It had been right into her left breast with his arm.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Sorry? You are the one who is going to paint her flabby body and stick them up all over the pool. My friends will never come over again." Gerry felt the impact of her words. She had a charmed life, regardless, but did Isabella actually suffer from her parents' public displays of stupidity? He was sure she would be fine. She was very popular and not because of her parents.

She was the spitting image of Carly Foulkes, the super hot model that put T-Mobile's commercials on the map by zooming around in pink and black on her motorcycle. She had just turned 18 and was making men act like fools with a quick twitch of her pert little nose or a pout of those puffy lips. Those lips gave Gerry a reason to want to stick around and talk. He had never noticed how sensual they really were. A subtle lick here and there or even sticking out her tongue could get a man hard as a rock. He was 43 years old and this 18 year old sizzling beauty was about to make his temperature rise to a dangerously high level. She knew she was beautiful and kept moving her head around like Carlos Santana was playing in her head.

"Who am I kidding." he thought, "more like Taylor Swift."

Isabella's slate colored eyes came from her father. Thank God the rest came from her mother. The jet black hair. The insolent look. The long legs. He hadn't seen her body, but in this heat it was likely to happen. He would be spending the rest of the day around the pool painting her mother.

"STOP", he scolded himself, "that is enough!" He was acting like a dirty old man. Forget that she was half his age. She was his partner's daughter! Zeke would probably kill him if something ever happened. He talked as if he knew men that did that sort of thing.

"I will need to catch up with you later, Isabella. With your leave." She hated when he did that, especially the bow, but he couldn't help himself. The whole family acted like nobility, why not play the part?

She gave him a coy smile and continued to bop her head around as if listening to music. "You don't know yet, do you?"

"Know what?"

The youngest, Andrea, gave him that cute five year old look of hers and said, "We are all going to be in the pictures Uncle Gerry! Mommy said so." Isabella stopped moving her head and bit her thumbnail while smiling at him.

The look almost gave him an arrhythmia.

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It was bad enough that Covid was ravaging the country. Now the heat was as well. Oklahoma had no beaches, so lakes and swimming pools were the only outdoor relief offering water. This was going to be a hot and miserable day for all.

Everyone was ready except for Isabella. The 18 year old was always late, of course. Gerry wasn't about to make them all sit out in the heat while he composed his paintings. He would take photos of them in all of the various group settings, and then paint them in individual sittings. If the heat was bad enough, he might even have to do that by photograph.

She had arrived.

In the beginning of the Clint Eastwood movie High Plains Drifter, a man appears out of the desert as if coming out of nowhere. The heat rising off of the sand made it difficult to tell whether you had missed his approach, or he had simply appeared out of thin air.

The heat was rising off the walkway towards the pool. Isabella was walking towards the group. Whether she appeared out of thin air or not, it didn't matter. She was composed of the heat, and the hazy effect it had on the senses.

He first noticed her legs. Long and perfectly shaped. Her stride was that of a panther. Strong, agile and dangerous. Her face came into view and his willpower began to fade. She was getting into his head. Her bikini was blue with black patterns and nearly made him drop his jaw to the floor. Her breasts were slightly smaller than her mom's. There was no way they would sag if released from their top. The tightness of her abdomen and slight sway of her breasts as she walked had completely taken over his focus and concentration.

He dropped his beer.

Zeke hadn't noticed, but Juanita did. Gerry begged her with his eyes not to say anything, and she thankfully complied. Her look was piercing, however. He knew this was going to be a rough weekend. He hated Zeke now even more than he thought possible. He had been forced to miss a barbecue at his playboy friend Steve's house to do this painting catastrophe. A spicy hot woman at that pool party would have meant incredible sex, not menacing looks from her mother and the risk of getting caught by her father. He really hoped Zeke didn't really have mafia hit man friends.

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The group photos went smoother than he anticipated. Zeke kept trying to mess everything up and the heat was getting unbearable, but they were done by early afternoon. Gerry wanted to start with the younger girls but genuinely cared about their skin. The afternoon rays are the most dangerous thing the Sun gives to this Earth. Juanita was not hearing a bit of it, however. She was the star of the show, and stated that if he didn't want to do the children that she would go first. It was clear from her look that Isabella was included when she said, "children."

The area cleared. The girls had to be happy to get out of the heat. Isabella looked like she could care less, walking off with her head still bobbing back and forth to what was probably Taylor Swift's "Wildest Dreams." Her ass swaying back and forth made him have a few wild dreams of his own.

"So which pose do you like best, Gerry?"

Sometimes in life we make mistakes. Sometimes we make big mistakes. Gerry opened his mouth and made one of the biggest ones of his life. "Why are you doing this Juanita? You are one of the most beautiful women in town and don't need me putting your image up all around the pool just to prove it."

She looked at him and reached down for his beer, taking a long pull on it. She was looking him up and down like he was some sort of outfit on a mannequin. "Let's cool off a bit in the kitchen. It really is hot today." He agreed heartily. Some cool air conditioning and iced tea would really hit the spot. As they entered the house he sighed deeply as the cool air washed over him.

She grabbed him by the arm and started leading him into the changing room by the entrance. He was surprised it was empty. Wet swimsuits were everywhere. The rest of the family had just come through. His eyes widened with surprise as she locked the door. "Did you really mean that Gerry? Or were you just wanting to get over to your friend Steve's orgy disguised as a barbecue?

"Of course I meant it."

"How would you know what I'm going through if you haven't seen everything?" She reached behind her and undid her bikini top, letting it drop to the floor.

"Juanita!"

"Oh come on Jerry, we have known each other for years. Zeke refuses to even look at me anymore and my body is going to seed. My boobs are covered in stretch marks, look." She pulled up what looked like a perfect globe and he saw a few light ones on the side. Her nipple had nearly brushed across his face as she moved. Then she did the same thing for the other breast. There were even less marks on the other. In all her breasts were large, full and quite arousing.

"Juanita, those are barely noticeable. Zeke is an idiot if he is not paying you attention." Gerry knew he was having an affair. Zeke was leaving, in fact, that night for what he told Juanita was a business trip. It was actually a three day romp in the Florida Keys with a strumpet barely a year older than Isabella.

"You've never been married, have you, Gerry?"

Here it came. A topless woman, crying about her husband not paying attention, asking about you being single. Why did they always start with such an innocent question? Men are stupid, but not that stupid. Why not just say, "Would you fuck me now and make me feel like a woman again?" Gerry held off a sigh and knew he was stuck. He had no condoms. He was sure she would find some. But Juanita had a different plan.

"No, I haven't Juanita. But I know what you are thinking. If I give in now and make love to you, Zeke will have me killed."

She laughed. "You don't believe that whole hitman bullshit he always talks about, do you? Zeke is all talk and no meat to back it up. You, on the other hand, seem to have no problem with the latter."

His cock was completely erect. "Thanks pal," he thought. She reached down and lightly stroked it through his trunks, then worked her way up his abdomen towards his chest. "You stay in such great shape, Gerry. How do you do it? Zeke lifts weights all the time, but looks like a blob of dough."

"I work for a living." That made them both laugh. Her breasts jiggled and she pressed her nipples into his chest. Whatever chance he had to resist up to then was now gone. She reached up and pulled his mouth to hers, kissing him ever so lightly. "I've been told my tongue can do wonders, and not by Zeke. He has never even known the pleasure." Gerry was intrigued. They had been married 20 years. Apparently Zeke wasn't the only one whose interests had wandered. Maybe the weekend wouldn't be so bad after all.

She kissed him down his chest, stopping on his left side to lick the nipple. When she got to his trunks she didn't simply rip them down like most women would, she went slowly and alternated kisses and licks with each inch of skin exposed. She was good. Real good. His cock was already pushing up against the band as she went lower.

She didn't waste an inch of her fantastic body. As she moved his trunks lower down with one hand, her other had slid inside his shorts in the back and was working away on his ass. She used the same gentle, tantalizing style. Even tickling ever so lightly. Her breasts were pressed against his thighs and she had them working magic too. She had shorter nipples but they were as hard as bullets. Each thigh was treated to its own rubbing and poking.

His cock finally popped out and she let his shorts drop to the floor. Her deep, dark brown eyes looked up at him and he knew she was going to make this intense. They couldn't be gone too long, however, or someone would come looking for them. Most likely Zeke.

Or Isabella.

Juanita began at the base of his balls with her hands and his belly button with her tongue. The tip of his cock was right next to it, but she stuck her tongue deep inside his navel and started kissing at as well. Her other hand was holding his cock against her cheek. Some pre-cum started to ooze out. She pulled away from his navel and brought the tip of her tongue to the first drop of precum gliding down the side of his shaft. "I see you like this. Maybe there is some kernel of truth to all the compliments you gave me."

Suddenly, she went into overdrive. Grabbing his cock firmly at the base, she shoved it deep in her mouth and drove him wild as she went up and down on it. He was getting extremely hard. She looked up at him and begged with her eyes. "Cum in my mouth," she said, "you know you want to. I want to taste your cum and then have it spill out and down over my breasts."

How could you argue with a request like that? She took him back into her mouth and he exploded almost immediately. He started bucking and another blast of cum hit the back of her throat. True to her word, she closed off her throat and it started pouring down the sides of her mouth. Seeing it hit her large breasts nearly made him start having a second orgasm. He completely emptied his balls into her mouth and onto her breasts. He leaned back against the locker and tried to catch his breath. She wasn't kidding. She could do wonders with her tongue.

They cleaned up and he sprayed down with cold water to keep his erection from lingering. She somehow had managed to not get any cum on her outfit, so they could still do the painting in the same swimsuit everyone saw her in. Good job Juanita.

She reached down and gently cupped his balls. Then she gripped tighter. Then tighter still. What the hell?

"I really hope none of that passion was meant for my daughter Isabella. Zeke is talking bullshit when he says he has hitmen. I am not."

Oh shit. He was fucked if Isabella gave him even one more teasing look.

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Painting always came easy to Gerry. Juanita kept trying to move her crotch in such a way that it was the center of the painting. He easily avoided that and in the end was satisfied with his work. He had made her look young and trim.

The girls were a slam dunk. They both loved him when he came over and he could have painted their faces from memory. For the bodies they were glorified stick figures. He had them wrapped up by 5pm.

It was time for Isabella.

And her mother. It was clear Juanita intended to sit in on this session. Isabella was having nothing to do with that. Their bickering as they approached took nothing away from the sight of Isabella's young figure. Zeke and Juanita had contributed some to this girl's looks, but the rest seemed to come from some private reserve of genes granted to the ancient goddesses of lore. Forget "The Face That Launched a Thousand Ships". Isabella could easily put Jeff Bezos onto Mars in his blatantly phallic shaped spacecraft, rather than the next lot over.

"I'm staying and that is final," stated Juanita. That seemed to put things to an end. Until an aide arrived with a phone call.

Zeke had been hurt on the way to the airport and was undergoing surgery to save his life. The painting sessions ended immediately.

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Gerry had lost his friend and partner. The children had lost their father. Juanita had lost her husband, and her only reason to stay in the United States. After the funeral she immediately took the girls to their sprawling estate in Rio De Janeiro. Isabella flat out refused to go. She was old enough to decide on her own.

The estate was locked up in probate, leaving Isabella in need of a place to stay. Juanita refused to talk with her. She also tried to scare Gerry off from intervening with threats of thug assassins. It didn't work.

"Thank you again for letting me stay here, Uncle Gerry."

"Isabella please. Drop the Uncle part," he asked. She had taken the death of her father in stride, but the massive fight and estrangement from her mother had knocked her confidence down a bit. She rarely bobbed her head around anymore and was being so polite to everyone that he was beginning to wonder if the counseling she refused should be urged again. Gerry didn't use much hired help, but they were taken in by the poor girl and a few even sat with her for some tears and comfort.

He knew she would snap out of it. It was only a matter of time. Then he suddenly got an idea.

Isabella was up early that a.m. and drinking tea at the kitchen table with her school materials spread out before her. When she was accepted to Stanford last year everyone assumed she got in on the merits of her father's generous donations. The last few days had changed Gerry's opinion on that, however. She was incredibly bright and very creative. She had written him a poem about it being the last month of Summer and that while it was sad, they should have "a little more fun." The poem was titled, "Incendiary Summer."

The choice of those words got him going. He thought back on how she nearly brought him to his knees walking into the painting sessions in a bikini. He needed to see that again.