My wife is a brunette. Weâve been married sixteen months on the seventh. Itâs just amazing how time has flown by. Someone once said to me that youâre not truly married until your wife yells at you. Well, if thatâs the case, then I guess I havenât experienced the real thing yet. Thatâs just the kind of relationship we have â perfect. We never fight and we absolutely love to be with each other. Weâre both extremely religious and come from rather conservative backgrounds. I wonât specify which religion, but I will say that we were both virgins on our wedding day. In fact, we wore the âvirginâ title a couple days into the honeymoon.
Iâm guessing that you probably want a detailed description at this point, and I sure wish that I could throw a picture or two in here. I mean, I can describe things, but sometimes words just donât cut it. I know thatâs the case where my wife is concerned.
Have you ever met a woman, or a man for that matter, who had no idea as to how perfectly model-like they were? That would describe my âJewelâ. Her real name is Julia, Julia Katherine. But, I like the way that Jewel flows off the tongue. Anyway, Jewel has never really known why the guys stare at her. In fact, if it werenât for me pointing it out, sheâd never have been clued in to the idea that sheâs stunning. Sheâs rather petite at 5â2â, but proportioned to perfection, as though an artist had sketched her into existence. Her breasts arenât that big if you go by the bra size, but because of her small frame, they definitely grab your attention.
Do you like Italians? Well, Jewel isnât Italian, but youâd never know. In fact, her genes are divided evenly between Syrian and Caucasian. The result is olive colored skin, dark brunette hair, and the deepest blue eyes imaginable. Iâm telling you that writing it out just doesnât come close to the mark, but I hope that you at least have an idea.
As for myself, I have short blond hair, blue-green eyes, and an athletic build. But hey, Iâm not the focus of this story. You go ahead and imagine what you want.
The story begins in the month of May. A time of year thatâs approaching unbearable here in Phoenix, Arizona. My wife and I have often asked ourselves, âWhy do we live here?â The answer, of course, is âfree rentâ. My parents recently pursued their dream of better weather and beautiful trees by moving to Washington. They are in the process of selling their six-bedroom, two-bath, 3,000 square-foot monster. In the meantime, they live in Washington, and we get out of the way of the real estate agent and her prospective buyers.
The house is big, but we donât mind, as the free rent allows us to save for our own home. Weâve recently had another bit of good fortune that has sweetened the deal of house sitting for my parents. On the other side of our driveway is a rather spacious addition. It used to be a shop for all of my fatherâs power tools, as he had his own cabinetry business. But, after retirement it was converted into an apartment, complete with a bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, and small sitting room. Itâs really quite cozy, and I guess my aunt was particularly impressed with its potential, considering the call that I received from my mother.
âYes, you heard me right. Stacy is going to be living with you two for the rest of the summer. Iâve made arrangements with her mother that she can rent the apartment for $250 a month. Youâll get half of that as youâll be giving up some of your privacy.â
Well, that was a bit of a surprise. My wife and I were very much getting used to the idea of wandering around the house nude, and basically doing just about anything we wanted, wherever we wanted. Stacy is a younger cousin that I hadnât seen for over four years. We used to be really close when we were younger, but I had gone out of the country for school, and then she had moved away to be with her father. She was going to be starting college in the fall and wanted to experience life on her own before moving to New York. Her mother, my aunt Loraine, thought it was a wonderful and âsafeâ idea to have her live next to us.