My oldest friend, Frank and his wife,Marci invited me to spend the week with them at a house they rented for the summer on the Jersey shore. I've known Frank for over forty years. He was teaching at the University of Pennsylvania while I taught English at a community college outside of Philadelphia. I was recently divorced and they thought it would be good for me to get away from the city. They were renting the house with another couple. At first, I didn't want to go because I thought I'd be the odd guy, being single and all that, but they insisted. Frank told me the other couple they rented the house with had a guest coming-- his wife's sister was coming in from California.
When I arrived around 4:00, Frank and his friend, George, were tossing horseshoes in their sandy backyard. Frank gave me a big bear hug and handed me a beer. He introduced me to George, who held up his beer bottle to me as a way of saying hello and said, "Glad to meet you, Peter. Welcome to Shangri Lai."
"This is a pretty big house you have here, Frank, right on the beach," I said, looking up at the wrap-around porch.
"George knew the owners who owed him a favor so we got a pretty good deal for the summer." We walked into the house which had old comfortable looking chairs and two couches that had been well sat in for many years. We walked past the stairway to the second floor and into a big kitchen with a round oak table in the middle. Marci got up and gave me a big hug and introduced me to George's wife, Sarah. Marci was a small woman with long blond hair. She was a painter and had developed a good reputation with shows in Philadelphia and New York. Marci, Frank and I had gone to college together.
"I'm glad you decided to come, Peter," Marci said. "We don't get to see enough of you."
"I'm not much of a keeper-upper with people," I said. "You know me. I live a pretty quiet life."
"Marci says you're a pretty good poet," Sarah said. She sat at the kitchen table and had one leg propped up on her chair with her chin on her knee. She had short black hair, cut like a page boy and had long dangling earrings. She had a pretty face with big brown eyes. She was tan and had sun glasses propped on the top of her head. She obviously liked lying in the sun.
"My sister is a poet," Sarah said. "You two should hit it off. She arrived from California this morning and is taking a nap."
"Jet-lag, I bet," I said, then turned to Marci. "So where am I staying? I think I'd like to get my stuff put away and freshen up"
"Your room is on the third floor next to the bathroom. You'll have a great view of the ocean." Marci said. "Just make yourself at home, Peter. By the way we're having a barbecue for dinner at six." I glanced up at the clock and saw it was almost five.
I walked down the narrow hall on the third floor and found my room. It was small but had a comfortable looking bed, a small bureau, a desk right next to the window. I looked out at the window at the ocean. I opened the window and took a deep breath of the salt air.
While I looked out the window, I heard the door across the hall open. I turned and could not believe me eyes. Standing in my doorway was a young woman wearing a green bikini top that could barely contain her tits. She had tight cut-off jeans and stood barefoot. She had long blond pig-tails.
"Hi, I'm Jenny, Sarah's sister. Who are you?"
"I'm Peter, an old friend of Frank and Marci's," I said. "I just arrived," I added, trying not to ogle at her body.
"I just arrived, too, from California. How long are you going to be here?" she asked, walking in and looking around the room.
"Just the weekend," I said. "How about you?"
"Not sure, a week or so," she said, standing next to me and looking out the window. "Nice view," she added. "I live near the ocean in California."
I couldn't take my eyes off her round ass in those tight cut-off jeans. She turned and sat on the window sill, stretching her long tan legs in front of her. Her tits were practically falling out of the top. She smiled at me, knowing I was trying not to look but enjoying teasing me. I could feel my cock getting hard and turned towards the bed and started unpacking.
"So what do you like to do in your spare time," Jenny asked.
"Lots of things," I said with my back to her. "I garden, read, write—mostly poetry," I added, remembering what Sarah had said.
"Oh, I write poetry, too," Jenny said. "I've written two books"
"Really, you're published," I said, turning to her. "I'd love to see your work."
"I'd like to see yours, too," she said. "Maybe we can have a private reading later," she added. "A poetry rendezvous." She smiled at me, looking seductively at my eyes.
"I think that could be arranged seeing that your room is just across the hall." I said, smiling back at her.
"Yes," she said. "I'd like that. I could sneak in your room while everyone is asleep and we could, ah, ....read to each other, you know, feed each other's... hunger," she paused and smiled, "for poetry, kind of like a midnight snack." The way she smiled and said, "hunger' was clearly a synonym for lust. I could not believe how this vacation was beginning.
She walked over to me at the bed and looked down at the bulge in my jeans and then into my eyes. She smiled but didn't say anything, except, "See you later, Peter." When she walked towards the door, I couldn't take my eyes off her round ass and the way her hips swayed as she walked. She turned back to me, still smiling and said, "You have a lean and hungry look." She looked at my eyes and then at the bulge in my pants. "I like that," she added, then left my room.
