Tanning

I was at my boyfriend's place. It was the first time I'd been there as this was a relatively new boyfriend. We'd only been out a few times and I'll admit I was still in the process of making up my mind about him.

Not that he wasn't a very nice guy. He was. Possibly a little too nice. Or maybe he was bending over backward to be nice to me because he was trying to fix my interest. Whatever the reason, I was still wavering on the idea of Peter as a proper steady boyfriend. I just got this sort of vibe that he was just a little too juvenile at times.

It was a hot summer day and I'd been out and about and came home worn out and sweating like a pig. When Peter rocked up I almost pissed him off there and then, but he mentioned the magic word -- pool.

The result was I'd grabbed my bathers and we'd shot over to his place and that lovely cold water. After that initial dip I'd settled on a deckchair, finally enjoying the sun for a while. Peter was still in the pool, and I knew why. He was hoping that the water would cool down his erection.

I knew perfectly well that he was going to make a pass at me at some stage and, while I might let him get away with a little petting, there was no way I was going to sleep with him at this point of our relationship. I think it was that touch of juvenile behaviour I sometimes saw that was holding me back.

I was amused to see that I was right about the erection. When Peter hopped out of the pool it was still very much in evidence. He was sauntering casually towards me when the back door of the house opened and a voice yelled for him. I was further amused to see how fast his erection died at that point. He excused himself and raced inside.

Peter came out a minute later looking distinctly cheesed off.

"Look, I'm sorry, Michelle, but I have to go down the street for my father. I won't be long. Please stick around until I get back."

I assured him that was fine, though I think his father was being a bit rough sending him out while he had company. He took off, and I settled down to enjoy the sun. Being by myself I took off my top. I'd have plenty of time to put it back on when I heard Peter returning.

Great idea in theory, but I hadn't realised how quietly Peter's father moved. I was laying back, boobs gleaming white in the sun, when this deep voice spoke to me. It was a honey of a voice, too. It sounded like deep rich treacle being slowly poured.

"Very nice," it said, "but do you really think this appropriate behaviour when you're at someone else's house?"

My eyes snapped open and my hands damn near snapped to cover my breasts. They wanted to, but I managed to keep them still. Standing next to me was a man, and I could see what Peter would look like in a few years. I assumed that it was Peter's father, but he could easily have been an older brother from the look of him.

He was big and beefy, and where Peter was still getting his growth this guy had it all, plus a bit more. He looked as though he'd been chiselled out of rock and to my consternation I could feel my nipples crinkling, wanting some attention.

Now I was at someone else's place so I was forced to be polite. That, and the fact that he was probably correct, put me at a bit of a disadvantage. Instead of saying fuck off, creep, I forced myself to smile and be civil.

"Good afternoon," I said, smiling until my teeth hurt. "I'm Michelle, a friend of Peter's."

"I know who you are," he said, and that voiced seemed to just reach out and touch me in some very sensitive spots. "I'm Andrew. Peter's father. Peter's been telling me all about you."

"Not much to tell at this stage," I pointed out. "We're still at the getting to know you stage."

"I can see," came the reply and my nipples gave a little twitch as he looked at them. "It appears that the relationship is coming along faster than I thought. How old are you?"

"Old enough," I snapped.

"So, eighteen," he said. "Don't you think Peter is a bit young for you?"

"Not really," I said airily, irritated that he'd put his finger on the one sour point in our friendship. But I wasn't having this man dictate who my friends would be.

"Well, I trust you're not going to be dressed like that when he gets back," said Andrew. "Rather an improper way to be around a kid his age."

A kid his age? This guy talked as though his son was still a child.

"In case you haven't noticed, Peter is growing fast," I snapped.

I've always had a quick temper, and don't always think things through. That's the only reason I can give for my next little stunt. Inappropriately dressed, was I? I calmly reached down and slipped my bikini bottom off.

"Would this be better?" I asked, lying back down.

I could feel Andrew inspecting me, and I could feel he was in a bit of a temper. Then I got a bit of a shock when he laughed. I blinked my eyes open and looked at him in surprise. He was no longer angry, but amused.

What the hell had happened that he thought so funny?

And why was I suddenly feeling a burning low on my tummy? It was that damned voice of his and the sound of his laugh. They bypassed my defences and poked me quite savagely in my sex. Heaven help me, if Peter's voice was like that he'd probably already have lured me to bed.

"You really don't know, do you?" Andrew said, a smirk on his face. "How old do you think Peter is?"

What the hell? He'd said nineteen, but I'd thought he was pushing it a bit. I thought a very new eighteen.

"Don't bother telling me," Andrew said before I could answer. "I'll tell you. He'll be sixteen in a couple of months. Big for his age, isn't he?"

Sixteen in a couple of months? That meant he was only. . .

I was wild. Played by a kid. No wonder I'd thought he was so juvenile at times. I'd been putting it down to typical male behaviour. They're notoriously slow to grow up, after all. I wanted to scream and shout and if Peter had been here I'd have hit him.

As it was, it suddenly dawned on me that I was lying naked in front of a strange man who thought I might have been having an affair with his underage son.

"You're kidding," I said rather feebly, knowing he wasn't, and casting an eye around for my bathers. I suddenly really wanted them back on.

"No," drawled Andrew. "You seem a bit perturbed. I thought you were still only getting to know him?"

"I was," I snapped, "but I've just decided I now know him well enough."

Where the hell had I dropped those damned bikini pieces. They should have been right there next to me.

"Oh, dear. Poor Peter. He won't be pleased with dear old dad for spilling the beans," murmured the monster. As if he cared.

"You seem to be looking for something," Andrew commented. "Feeling a little naked are we?"

No. I was feeling a whole lot naked. My whole body seemed to be yelling hey, I'm naked and there's an attractive man checking me out.

I threw a furious look at Andrew and sat up to get a better look. Peering over the side of the deckchair I could see the edge of some material. How the hell did the damned things end up under there?

I looked up at Andrew and it twigged. The brute had deliberately kicked them there. I hadn't noticed because I'd been lying back with my eyes shut, showing my indifference to what he thought.

"And now you have to make a decision," came that warm syrupy voice. "Do you make yourself look silly, scrambling into your bikini after you so bravely discarded it, or do you lie back and pretend it doesn't matter."

Andrew paused for a moment, but then continued before I could come up with a witty comeback. The way I felt right then, he could probably have waited all day without my finding a witty comeback. It's hard to think of witty comebacks when what you're feeling is terribly, terribly naked.

"As far as I can see, it doesn't really matter if you put the bikini back on or not. I'm still going to lay you on the grass and ravish your lovely little body. And if you're worried about Peter returning, don't be. I sent him to my brother's place and my brother is going to keep him occupied for about an hour."

Worried about Peter? Why would I worry about Peter when I've just been told I'm going to get ravished? Especially when my body is sitting up, taking notice, and saying yes, please.

It suddenly dawned on me that Andrew had probably planned this from the start. That's why he'd sent Peter off on a stupid errand. Bastard.

"You planned this," I yelled at Andrew. "You deliberately sent Peter away so you could get me alone. Do you think I'm going to just let you grab me? You can bloody think again."

The swine had the gall to laugh at me.

"Don't let your paranoia get away," he said, still laughing. "The only reason I wanted a quiet word with you was to let you know Peter's age. I thought he might have inflated it a bit. Like I said, he's a big boy for his age. The idea of seducing you never even crossed my mind.

Until I saw those lovely breasts and your nipples kind of waved to me.

And when you dropped your pants and showed me you're old enough to shave, I did wonder what it would feel like to run my thumbs over that nice smooth mons. Will I feel any prickly stubble, do you think?

And of course you have the right to say no. If you do, I might even listen."

He stood there, smiling down at me. A voice like his should be outlawed. It just oozed past my defences and he probably knew it. Naturally I was going to say no. I mean, I didn't even know the man. This was the first time we'd even met. How could he think otherwise?

I was still determined to say no, even while I felt his hand on my elbow, encouraging me to rise. I opened my mouth several time to say it as he walked me over to the lawn.

Just who did I think I was kidding? I'd been hot for this man as soon as he'd spoken to me. By the time we reached the grass I was breathing hard, wondering just when he was going to start touching me, worrying in case I didn't match up to his expectations.

Once we were on the grass, Andrew pulled me hard against him and kissed me. God, I almost came on the spot. This man was hot and he was pushing all my buttons without even trying. By the time he finished kissing me I wasn't too surprised to find myself lying on the grass with him kneeling beside me.

I watched as he stripped, eyes intent, especially when he took his trousers off. As soon as I saw what he was offering I wanted to reach for it, but he put me off for a while.

Andrew leaned over me and started on my breasts, teasing them, sucking on them, laving my nipples, rolling them with his tongue. His hand settled onto my mound and squeezed it. Then he started tormenting me.

He massaged my mound, kneading the soft flesh. He stroked me, running a fingernail lightly along the length of my slit, sending little vibrations along my lips. His hand slowly trailed up across my mons and over my lower tummy, and I could feel my flesh curling under his touch.

I was wet, almost gushing, and he hadn't so much as pushed a fingertip inside me. All the touches were superficial. They should have been nice, making me feel sexy and wanted and ready for further adventures. They shouldn't have been doing what they were doing, and that was having me writhing under his touch, pleading with him to do something, anything, because I needed him to.

When he rolled on top of me, his erection pointing at me, I almost died. I didn't want to wait any longer. I was pushing up, reaching for him, needing fulfilment. Then he crashed down against me and I screamed, wrapped my legs around him and pulled him into me with all my strength.

It was heavenly. Andrew filled me completely with a single hard drive, my body ready and waiting. And now that he was in me Andrew didn't muck about. He started taking me, pulling back and driving back in hard, while I groaned and squealed and pushed myself hard up against him, determined that I should get as much of him as possible.

He didn't take me too fast. You've probably met the type. They jump on you and then go hell for leather as if they're in a race, generally finishing long before you do. Not Andrew. If he was in a race it was a marathon, pacing himself to last the distance.

He went on and on, and I was almost beside myself with excitement and sexual expectation. I was going to climax, I just knew it, and I have to admit it worried me slightly as I was sure Andrew wasn't ready.

Then he stopped. Just like that! He bloody stopped.

I'm all ah, ooh, what, ANDREWWW, while he calmly pulls out, his erection looking enormous, and lies on his back. Then he pulls me over on top of him and practically sits me on him, straddling him. I'm frantically grabbing at his erection, trying to position it so I could take it again, while he's telling me to take it easy. It wasn't going anywhere. Oh, yes, it bloody was, just as soon as I could manage it.

Then I'm sinking down onto him, a groan of relief breaking past my lips, and I started bobbing up and down, riding his cock. There was a reason for what he'd done of course. I'd gone off the boil while having to remount, and now I had to hurry up to build up my head of steam before I could climax.

I did it. You can bet your arse I did it. I bounced on his cock, lifting myself up the full length of it and then forcing myself to slide back down until I could feel his hairy groin rubbing against my mons.

I managed to prolong out encounter, drawing it out, enjoying myself and quite sure that Andrew was enjoying my servicing him. His hands reached up and teased my breasts as I bounced. One of these days, I decided, I was going to go from start to finish in this position and see how he liked it.

I was having so much fun that it was almost too soon when I felt my climax building again. My breath shortened and I was panting, and I could feel my eyes glazing over, and the son-of-a-bitch lifted me up and off him.

I'd had trouble articulating my feelings the first time, but now I was speechless. I could feel my hard-earned climax fading away again, and I was wild. Then Andrew rolled me onto my tummy and hoisted my bottom into the air. I tensed, knowing what was coming, and his cock came slamming home again.

Andrew's hands reached around in front of me and clasped my breasts, and then he started. Forget the marathon. He'd apparently decided it was time for the hundred metre sprint. He came pounding in like nobody's business.

His cock pounded into me, chousing me along, pushing me urgently towards my climax, and I reached for it eagerly. Andrew thrust in, hard and deep, and I took him and begged for more, which he happily supplied. Harder and faster was the order of the day, my bottom bobbing up and down, nodding its assent to what was happening and then Andrew was spraying me and my climax hit me and everything came apart around me.

I surfaced slowly, trying to come to terms with the fact that I had been soundly ravished. While the possibility of sex had crossed my mind when I came to Peter's place I'd been able to dismiss it quite easily. Peter and I just hadn't been on those terms yet. (Or ever, now. Fifteen? Really.)

What I hadn't considered was Andrew deciding to take me and boy, had I been taken. I still felt all gooey just thinking about it. And then reality reached over and slapped me in the face.

"Oh, my god!" I yelped. "How could you?"

Andrew seemed quite startled, the cad.

"How could I what?" he asked lazily.

"Leap on me and ravish me like that," I said dramatically. "What would your poor wife say if she knew?"

"Probably that's it's about time," Andrew drawled. "She's been dead for about five years. Stop worrying. You haven't cheated anyone."

I must say that was a relief. I didn't really see myself in the role of home-wrecker. I relaxed again.

"You might want to think about getting your bathers on," observed Andrew. "Peter will be home sooner or later, and I won't be pleased to have him catching you like that, no matter how much it might delight him."

I obediently reached for my bikini and, upon my asking, Andrew showed me where the bathroom was. By the time Peter arrived home I was back on the deckchair, sunning myself.

He came bouncing out, all smiles, but the smiles stopped when he saw the look on my face.

"Fifteen?" I said.

He blushed, and really looked fifteen. How the hell had he managed to fool me?

"Dad, told you," he said.

I nodded.

"Although I knew something wasn't quite right. You let the act slip a couple of times. I just couldn't put my finger on what was wrong," I said.

The young terror grinned at me, then his face straightened and got harder. He squared himself away, seeming to put on bulk as he did so. When he spoke, his voice was deeper and I could hear a beguiling touch of honey in his tones.

"Hi," he said. "I'm Peter. I'm eighteen and between girlfriends. And you are?"

I cast my eyes to the sky. OK. I could see how he fooled me. Even knowing he was fifteen, I found it hard to believe.

"I assume," he said in a normal voice, "that we won't be going on a date tonight?"

"You assume correctly," I said. "Go chase someone your own age and keep your fly zipped. You're still too young. And I already have a date for tonight."

The kid was fast, I'll give him that.

"Frigging dad," he said disgustedly. "I'm never going to get laid with him around."