(Part 1 - EDITED)
We'd known each other for many years, getting together about once a month.
Kate had been cutting my unruly head of hair for more than a decade. When we first met, she was in her twenties: sharp, lively, full of questions and ideas. Often, as she worked, we'd talk about everything under the sun: travel, politics, cooking, music. At other times, we said very little, preoccupied with our separate lives and problems. But every time we saw each other, we
connected
.
Occasionally, Kate would let her guard down, and speak about the more intimate parts of her life: who she was seeing, how her relationships were unfolding, her joys and frustrations.
Usually, I chalked these moments of candor up to her youth and enthusiasm. But I wasn't always sure. I couldn't figure out if she simply saw me as an older man that she could safely confide in, or as a more intimate friend, whose company she enjoyed.
She was very attractive: 5'6", lean and fit, with blue eyes and long, brown hair that curled down around her shoulders. Always well dressed in an understated way, she was impeccably put together. Every time I saw her, I arrived intrigued, and left stimulated.
Beneath our easy familiarity, though, was another presence: a tension that sometimes sparked through our conversations, particularly when we talked about our past lives and loves.
Sometimes, late at night, I wondered if we could have been an item in a different life. I was very attracted to her, but always shied away from saying anything that might make her uncomfortable.
More that once, she asked about my property in the country. As tempting as it was to invite her for a visit, my floundering marriage quickly ruled that out. At least, it did until the marriage finally ended.
Newly single, I finally screwed up the courage to ask Kate if she'd like to come for dinner and a swim. She was always welcome to use the guest room, if she wanted to stay over.
To my surprise, she didn't hesitate for a moment, and readily accepted. She seemed genuinely pleased by the invitation, and we agreed to get together the following weekend.
_________________________
Her car drove through the woods and up the winding the driveway at 4:00 PM.
It was a warm June day: blue skies, a light breeze - good weather for sitting outside.
She gracefully stepped out of the car. I was surprised by how she was dressed, compared to how she looked at the salon.
Instead of heels, a fashionable dress, and perfectly styled hair, she looked far more casual: leather sandals, a short skirt that showed off her slender legs, a loose, partly unbuttoned blouse, her hair gathered up off her neck.
She waved, called out "Hi!" and walked to the house, smiling.
"Hey!" I said. "So glad you could finally make it."
She stopped, turned a slow 360, and looked at the tall white pines surrounding the house.
"This is fabulous!" she commented. "So green and private."
She walked to the front deck, stepped up to me, and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. "I'm glad I could make it too."
She pulled back, looked around again, dropped her overnight bag on the deck and asked: "A quick tour?"
We walked around the outside of the house, looking at the gardens, the sunken hot tub, and the pool. She seemed pleased.
Stepping inside, I toured her through the downstairs. Walking behind her, I admired how well put together she looked: tanned, fit, and self-assured.
I also noticed, as she bent over to drop her bag in the guest room, that she wasn't wearing a bra. Leaning down, her blouse billowed out, giving a brief, revealing view of her small but lovely breasts. As she straightened up and glanced at me, I could have sworn her nipples were hard. My cock twitched ever so slightly. I smiled awkwardly, not sure if she'd seen me peeking, and turned away towards the kitchen.
"Something to drink?" I asked.
_________________________
Settling into the Adirondack chairs outside, we sipped our wine, and enjoyed the sunshine. We made small talk: the gardens, the property, how I liked living so far out in the country.
"The hot tub," Kate asked. "Do you use it often?"
"Almost daily," I replied.
"Nice," she said. "No neighbours around?"
"Not for half a mile or so."
"Fabulous," she said. "So you don't have to worry about prying eyes".
"Exactly - same goes for the pool."
"Lovely. Could I use them later?"
"Sure!"
"Great," she said, but looked a bit perplexed.
"Question?" I asked.
"No. Well, yes... I forgot that you had a pool. I didn't bring anything to wear for swimming."
"Ah," I replied. In my minds eye, I imagined her diving buck-naked into the water. As if. "I have some shorts that might fit, and a T-shirt you could use".
"Terrific!" she responded, smiling at me. "That would work."
_________________________
After a light meal on the screen porch, we cleared away the dishes, and she asked, "So, swim time?"
"Absolutely," I responded. "I'll just run upstairs for the shorts and shirt."
I returned with the clothing, and she headed off to the guest room to change. The thought of her climbing out of the pool, braless, in a clinging wet T-shirt, suddenly popped into my head. Once again, my prick tingled.
Down, boy
I thought to myself.
"Ready?" she called out from the back of the house.
"Coming," I replied.
I walked out to the pool, and found her standing by the stairs. I was shocked. She was wearing the T-shirt tied tightly up under her breasts, showing off her toned, flat stomach. Even more surprising: she was wearing a pair of thin lace panties - not my shorts.
"Sorry," she apologized. "The shorts were just too big. They probably would have come off on the first dive. Do you mind?"
"No. No... not at all," I quickly replied. I glanced down at her thighs. I thought I could see the tiniest damp spot forming in the cleft between her legs.
Quickly flicking my eyes back to her face, I saw her smiling slightly. I took a deep breath, gestured towards the pool, and said, "Feel free."
She turned, and walked gracefully around the pool to the deep end. I stood silently, admiring her beautifully shaped ass as she walked away from me. This woman was amazing.
At the deep end, she turned and looked at me. Stretching up on her toes, she reached her hands above her head and arched her body back slightly. Her nipples poked against the T-shirt. Her panties - the moist patch now clearly visible even from the other end of the pool - clung to her like gauze.
She bent forward, breathed out, and dove. It was a lovely sight. She cut gracefully into the water, and swam towards me.
"Ahhhh!" she cried out as she reached the pool steps. "Wonderful!"
She stood up in the shallow end, the water up to her waist and the T-shirt now almost see-through. Her breasts were outlined through the wet fabric; aureoles and nipples clearly defined. My cock was stiffening against my will. I hoped she didn't notice the growing bulge in my jeans.
"Coming in?" she asked.
I stood, transfixed.
"Everything OK?" she asked.
I shook my head slightly. "Uh - I'll have to go look for a suit," I replied.
"Do you wear one when you're here on your own?" she quickly asked.
"Not - not usually. No neighbours around."
"So don't!"
My throat tightened.
"You sure?"
"Sure! Like you said, feel free!" She giggled at her double entendre.
Thoughts raced through my head. I desperately wanted to join her in the pool, but my cock was now up well past half-mast, and I didn't want her to see me that way.
After a few moments, unable to come up with a good reason not to dive in, I walked slowly around the pool to the deep end.
