I didn’t quite know what to expect the next morning. After all, we’d crossed a line, one that couldn’t be recrossed again, and I found myself consumed with a million little worries when I woke. Nothing to do about it, at least not until Summer arose too. I decided that we’d sit down and have a long talk and work this out…
As usual, though, Summer was… Summer, meaning things just sort of worked themselves out. Or maybe they didn’t. At least not how I expected.
I heard her stirring. Or rather, I heard her door open, her footsteps in the hall, the bathroom door, the shower starting. I got up, put on some pants and a t-shirt, meaning to get the coffee started. The bathroom door was open. Of course it was, so I peeked in. She was showering. I could see her silhouette through the curtain. Lovely and perfect. I knew, without being able to actually see, that her nipples were hard as she was obviously playing with herself, one hand between her thighs, the other on her breasts. I watched, and listened, as she sighed, her sigh turning to a moan. I was growing hard. Surprise surprise. I stood there, transfixed, thinking that I should give her some privacy or something. Instead, I kept watching in silence, not even realizing I’d undone my jeans and pulled my cock out so that I could stroke it.
She grew louder…
“Fuck, yes. Oh god.”
So erotic. I was tempted to just walk in, pull the curtain aside, and… Fuck.
Instead, I just watched, heart pounding, pulse racing until she came, her soft cries echoing in the bathroom. I was close, too. So close, but… I stopped myself. We were going to talk. That’s what I’d decided. I needed to keep that in mind. Carefully putting my almost painfully hard cock away, I slipped out of the bathroom and made my way to the kitchen and started the coffee, trying hard not to glance down the hallway and catch her coming out of the bathroom naked. In the end, I couldn’t help myself.
“Smells good,” she said when she finally joined me, pouring herself a cup of coffee.
I’d decided on scrambled eggs and fried potatoes this morning. Summer looked good. In fact, she looked delicious. Fresh scrubbed, her hair still damp, her nails freshly painted. She’d chosen a soft pink this time.
“Like them? They’re new,” she announced, striking a playful pose.
Panties and a bra.
“They’re pretty,” I told her. They were, too. Pastel green lace with a little white bow. Both cute and sexy. They fit her perfectly.
“Put out the plates so we can eat.”
Yes, we were the perfect picture of domesticity.
“I want to write today. And you should paint,” she decided. When, I wondered briefly, had she taken over my life?
“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied with a chuckle that made her giggle.
“If you want, I mean. Maybe we could watch a movie tonight? Not here, I mean. At the theater?”
“Even better. I’ll see if I can get tickets to a play.”
We ate. It was nice. Pleasant. My worries faded and the idea of having a heart to heart talk seemed to be less and less important. Afterward, she vanished into her room to write leaving me to work on my craft, the memory of last night still with me as I painted her standing in the pond by which we’d fucked or made love or… whatever it was that had happened.
She came out once. For lunch. She’d put a blouse on, but other than that was dressed only in her underwear. She seemed distracted, though I assumed she had her mind on whatever it was she was working on. I was distracted too for the same reason and neither of us said much as we ate, sitting across from each other, her bare foot resting on mine, occasionally running her toes over it, her smile shy was she caught my eye. Again, I pictured her up against the wall while I fucked her from behind, buried in her tight wet cunt, her tits mashed against the plaster as she writhed and moaned and…
“Don’t forget about the play tonight,” she reminded me, laughing as she caught me lost in my erotic daydream, although there was no way she could possibly know what it was about.
“No. Promise. Take care of it right now.”
“Okay.”
And then she was gone again, into the sanctuary of what had once been my storage room and was now ‘Summer’s bedroom’. Not that I minded. Quite the opposite, in fact.
I got online and found something I thought she’d enjoy. A bawdy comedy. She had a delightful laugh and I looked forward to hearing more of it. I bought tickets. Decent seats, too. It wasn’t sold out and it was a small theater. I figured we’d catch a bite at the café next door first and then, maybe, go out for drinks after the show before returning home and… seeing what happened, I guess. I know what I wanted to happen. What I didn’t know was what Summer would want…
I dressed up a little. It was a play, after all. Black trousers. Black dress shirt. Black boots.
“You look menacing,” she told me with a giggle, following it up with, “You look nice.”
So did she, a black sweater that clung to her like a second skin over a short lavender skirt that showed off her legs. This time, instead of her usual sneaker, she was wearing a pair of black stiletto-heeled pumps (one of her purchases). Damn, she looked good. She’d put on some simple makeup, too, turning her eyes dark and her lips a soft red. She’d done something fancy with her hair, too, although I wasn’t sure what, only that it looked different and made me want to run my fingers through it while I kissed her…
“You look… amazing.”
“Yeah?”
“Most definitely yeah.”
She gave me a huge smile, as if that was the nicest thing I could have said.
Dinner was nice. We talked, mostly about other plays we’d seen. Her mom, I recalled, loved to get dressed up and go out to whatever was trending in LA at the time and, of course, she’d taken Summer with her.
“It was fun. Huge productions and all that wow factor. But I started going by myself a lot to see smaller plays. Sometimes just community theatre productions. Maybe not as good, but more… real. And I liked the intimacy of sitting in a small audience. Cozier, I guess?”
“You’ll enjoy this, then. I think it only holds a hundred or so?”
“Sounds perfect.”
And it was. The play was actually quite funny and a bit risqué. A tale of mistaken identities that owed a lot to Shakespeare. So many, in fact, that I began to lose track which was, I think, the whole point and made it all the funnier. Summer thoroughly enjoyed it too. Afterwards, we left holding hands as we talked about bits and pieces we’d found particularly amusing or clever, laughing over poorly remembered lines as we walked along the street looking, I am sure, like lovers.
We stopped for drinks. A drink. Not enough to get tipsy on, just something to keep the night going. I was having such a wonderful time and I didn’t want it to end. I think she was too. Afterwards, instead of going home, we walked some more, somewhat aimlessly, though in the general direction of where I’d left the truck.
“I’ll miss this,” she said, staring up at the sky overhead.
“Miss it?” I wondered.
“I can’t stay here forever. It’s just a pause in my story. There’s still Italy. I need to see Tuscany and Rome. Venice. And then Zurich and Madrid and Barcelona…”
Her words sounded wistful, though I couldn’t tell if that was at the idea of moving on or at the need to see more.
“How much longer do I have you for?” I tried to keep my voice from mirroring what I felt at the thought of her leaving.
“Don’t sound so sad!” she said, laughing and shaking her head. “You have me tonight. Don’t worry about tomorrow until it’s here. Now, what should we do now?”
“Go home?”
“Is that what you want to do?”
I shrugged, joining her in looking up at the sky as if seeing it for the very first time, my heart racing as I thought about what I really wanted to do….
“I want to kiss you.”
“Then kiss me,” she said, her voice shy.
So I did. Softly. Tenderly, succumbing to temptation and running my hands slowly through her hair as she kissed me back, her lips soft and warm, her breath scented with wine. It went on for a while, both of us lost in each other. I was vaguely aware that we weren’t alone. It wasn’t a busy street, but there were still the occasional pedestrian out and about. Not that I cared. I was too lost in her.
“Tell me what else you want,” she whispered, breathlessly, pausing as my hands wandered lower, stroking over her slim shoulder, down along her arms, her hands resting on my hips.
My thoughts from earlier rose up and, despite my better judgment, I shared them, unable to hold back.
“I want to push you up against a wall and take you from behind. I want to make you scream with passion. I want to feel you tremble against me while I bury myself in you from behind. I want to…”
“So do it,” she said, her voice so soft, so quiet, that I could barely hear her.
“Here?”
“There.”
She turned her head and pointed with her chin and her eyes. A shadowed alleyway, dark enough to hide anyone entering more than a few yards…
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” So much impatience. Lust. Need, all contained in that one simple word. She led, I followed, or maybe I led, and she followed… I couldn’t really tell. Either way, we ended up in the shadows, fifteen or twenty feet away from the sidewalk, from the light hidden, barely able to see each other. It was clean, thankfully, not that it would have stopped me, us, if it hadn’t been. My hands moved to her breasts... her tits, groping them, squeezing. She let out a shuddering breath, her hands at my waist, fumbling with my belt, my zipper, freeing my cock, seeming completely uninterested in foreplay. I spun her, she turned, somehow she ended up pressed against the wall, face turned to the side, her cheek against the bricks, tits mashed flat, her back arched, her ass stuck out, presenting it. I didn’t waste any time. I simply pulled her skirt up, exposing her panty clad bottom. I needed her too much, needed my cock in her tight wet hungry pussy too much to be gentle. I meant to push her panties aside. I think I tore them. She didn’t protest. Instead, she let out a throaty moan.
“Fuck me. Hard. Make me scream.”
That was all I needed to hear. I pushed into her, my cock engorged and throbbing, sliding into her slick hole easily, my balls bumping into her ass as I held onto her waist and started thrusting into her, pushing her into the wall harder and harder, savagely fucking her…
I didn’t last long. Neither did she. I came first, though. Hard and with a loud groan, the feeling so intense I actually checked out for a moment or two. She wasn’t far behind, pushing back against me, shaking as she cried out loud enough that I was sure we’d be caught, her words a jumble and unintelligible. Like a supernova, we’d burned white-hot and were spent, me leaning into her, my cock still semi-hard inside her, her pussy still clenching and unclenching as if she wasn’t done with me yet, although I doubted I had the stamina to do anything about that right then and there…
“Fuck,” she breathed, giggling a little, her skirt still up over her ass. I couldn’t have agreed more. Deciding that discretion might be in order, I pulled out of her and she started giggling again.
“Tickles,” she explained. “leaking down the insides of my thighs.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
She tried to fix her panties, giving up quickly. I helped her take them off, stuffing them into my pocket after zipping myself up, my cock tucked back into my trousers before we made our way out of the alleyway, red-faced with embarrassment and laughter as we tried to pretend nothing had happened. When we finally made it back to the car she broke out in peals of laughter and soon, I joined her.
