Please read Chapters 1, 2, and 3 prior to reading this one. It will add greatly to your enjoyment. And please remember to rate and comment! Merci, Petitmort
Paul was driving along Opal Cliff Drive, with a step ladder and other painting gear piled in the back, on his way to do some handyman work for one of Maddie's fellow book club members, Briana Carroll.
He marveled at the fancy houses perched on the cliff overlooking the Pacific. Sleek, contemporary designs with meticulous landscaping and late model luxury cars parked in cobblestoned driveways.
This was a world he knew very little about.
Briana had texted him saying she needed the exterior wall next to her deck repainted. She told him "whenever it's convenient" but he could tell she wanted him to come over as soon as possible.
Brianna Carroll was a different kind of Pleasure Pointer. She wasn't a full-time resident like Maddie and Ally. She lived over the hill in Silicon Valley and came to the coast on weekends to stay at her beach house.
She worked in management at one of the big tech companies in the Valley. Her husband was also a hi-tech exec but the two had separated recently.
A beautiful, stylish brunette, she had a woman-of-the-world quality and the means to keep herself in good shape and fine clothing.
She and her estranged husband alternated weekends at Opal Cliffs. This was her weekend.
Paul had told her his rate was $50/hour, $15 an hour more than he usually charged, and he didn't bring up the notion of his "college fund" at all. He figured he'd mention that after they'd gotten to know each other better.
He had showered and shaved, put on his best shorts, a nice Hawaiian shirt, and flip-flops.
He was there to work, but he wanted to look good too.
He rang the doorbell, a high tech one that doubled as a camera.
A moment later, she opened the door. It was the first time he really got a good look at her.
She looked amazing.
She had a beautiful face, with shoulder length brown hair. Her eyes were sharp yet friendly, intelligent but soulful too.
She was wearing a short, loose-fitting beach cover-up, with bare feet, and her hair down. She had shapely, toned legs, a slender body, and what looked like really nice breasts.
"Hi," he smiled as she opened the door.
"Oh, hi Paul. Come on in."
"Shoes on or off?" he asked, hesitating in the doorway.
"Either way. Very casual here. Clothing optional."
He kicked off his flip-flops.
The inside was decorated in high-end beach modern. High ceilings, hardwood floors, a white L-shaped couch and an arc light, ocean-themed watercolors on the walls.
Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the back wall.
Unlike Ally and Maddie's cottages which were setback from the ocean, this was a full-fledged house directly overlooking the water. Outside, he could see a large deck, a hot tub, and the vast Pacific Ocean.
Not bad for a vacation house, he thought.
The waves were breaking on boulders fifty feet below the house.
"Amazing view," he said. "I surf right there. That's my favorite break."
"I like to watch the surfers from the deck," she said. "Maybe I've watched you from afar."
"It's easy to spot me. I'm a goofy footer."
She looked puzzled.
"Left foot forward. Not that common."
She nodded.
"Can I get you something to drink? Water? Soda?"
"I'm good. Maybe later."
"Come. I'll show you the deck," she said.
The work she had for him was pretty straightforward. The exterior wall facing the sun was peeling and weathered looking and needed to be repainted.
"It's all the sun and salt air," he said. "They really thrash these outside walls. Pretty common problem. They call it the sea tax."
After checking it out, he started to bring his supplies from his car. She had left over paint he was going to use stored in the garage. Next to her Tesla Model S.
He set up the ladder on the deck, spread his drop cloth, and started the process of scraping the peeling paint.
As he worked, he could see Briana through the window, moving about her house. The way she moved, graceful and efficient, he could tell she kept herself in good shape.
As the day wore on, he moved from scraping to painting. He didn't want to get paint on his Hawaiian shirt so he took it off and draped it over a lounge chair.
He climbed back on the stepladder, wearing nothing but a pair of skimpy shorts.
He could see her facing him on the other side of the window straightening the pillows on the couch.
She seemed to spend a long time getting them just right.
He could tell she was looking at him. His strong arms reaching up high, his bare legs flexing to support him. His muscular chest and washboard abs.
She was being discreet about it, but he could definitely feel her eyes on him.
The shorts he was wearing were very short and tight-fitting, not like his usual board shorts. Ally had bought them for him for a photo shoot. They hugged his tight ass and showed off his bulge.
It seemed to make sense to wear them for this job.
Knowing she was looking at him was a real turn on. He could feel his cock filling with blood.
His hardening cock was pressing against the fabric of his shorts.
He climbed a rung higher on the ladder to give her an even better view. He reached up high, holding the eave with one hand, knowing this would cause his muscles to flex.
His cock felt like it would bust a hole right through his shorts.
Not surprisingly, a few moments later, she was out on the deck checking on his progress.
She stood behind him. Watching him. In the window's reflection, he could see her eyes trained on his ass.
"How's it going?" she asked, a bit breathlessly.
"Good. I didn't want to get paint on my shirt so I took it off. Hope you don't mind."
"I don't mind at all. Make yourself comfortable."
He was wearing the cheap, latex gloves favored by house painters, a brush in one hand and a drip rag in the other.
"I kinda wish I'd worn my gym shorts" he added. "These shorts are brand new and I don't want to get paint on 'em."
She looked at the shorts in question, and at his tight ass underneath.
"Well, you can take them off too. I don't mind."
He turned to her, holding up his gloved hands.
"I'd like to, but I'm already gloved up. It's a hassle."
She looked at his hands, and at his shorts.
"I could help. If you want..."
There was a pause.
"If you don't mind. Sure."
"Why would I mind? It's no trouble."
He put down the brush and rag, climbed down the ladder, and faced her.
He stood with his palms up, as if to say "here you go, I'm all yours."
She moved closer to him.
"So, should I just..." she asked.
"Yeah, just ... unbutton them."
She stood close to him, her two hands reaching for the waist band of his shorts.
His bare chest seemed so powerful. His abdomen so rippled. His bulge so big.
She unbuttoned his shorts, and slowly unzipped the zipper.
Then, she started to slowly slide them over his ass.
Because they were tight-fitting, it took a bit of effort to slip them over his luscious butt and hips.
It felt like it was all happening in slow motion.
As she peeled off his shorts, she saw he was wearing a black thong.
Ally had picked this out for him too.
She bent over to slide his shorts down his thighs. That put her face right next to his crotch.
His cock was swelling and his bulge looked huge.
She gasped.
She couldn't keep her eyes off his bulge. His cock looked so big. So powerful. Like it might burst through the thin fabric at any moment.
She slipped his shorts down his calves and off his feet, one at a time, her face inches from his hardening cock.
She took her time, as if she wanted to spend a few extra seconds with her face right next to his cock.
Which just made him get harder.
