All Wet
Ben and Carleena were once close friends, but circumstance and life in general made them grow apart. Now, after a disasterous end to her once successful career, Carleena has returned home and discovers she's not the only one who has changed.
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Chapter One
Damn, she looked better than ever--which shouldn't have been possible. Had it really been seven years since the class reunion, since he'd seen her walk in on the arm of what's-his-name, that real estate agent or web mogul?
Ben didn't want to remember her date. He wanted to remember the good times at the reunion, the moments he'd sat with a bottle of beer as his date and watched Carleena Benningfield laugh and joke with their old friends. She hadn't acknowledged him, hadn't even seen him. Looking back, the reunion was a lot like high school--everyone's actions fueled by the past. Right then and there he should have given up hopes for a future.
But this wasn't the reunion and she wasn't the successful party planner she'd been seven years ago. Now she was just another person, a thirty-six-year old woman who looked damn good in a two-piece swimsuit.
The air conditioning kicked on and waves of cool air tickled the hairs on his legs. He watched her through the gossamer curtains of her old bedroom where they'd once sat on the rug and talked about dragons and all the other dorky things that had made them outcasts in middle school. She'd been his escape from a hellish home life and nightmares about the police coming and taking him and his two little sisters away.
No one would be able to tell she'd loved to talk about what powers her elven princess needed to defeat the all-knowing wizard. He doubted she'd ever known he'd sneaked peeks at her underwear drawer when she left the room and masturbated for days when he found her panties and bras. He'd grown out of that now. Sort of.
Rather than raid her panty drawer, he watched her and felt his cock ache with the start of an erection. She kicked off her flip-flops beneath a lounger and took her hair out of its clip. Dark, tousled hair streamed down her shoulders, some spilling over her breasts. It was wrong to want to jerk off while he watched her, but goddamn he didn't care. She'd never know--and if their past was any indication, she'd never care.
He slid his zipper down, fumbled with the button to his fly that came between him and satisfaction. She sauntered toward the outdoor shower and pulled the cord, wincing as the stream of water that always came out cold hit her back. She rubbed water over her arms and legs, skimmed her palm over the front of her suit and her breasts.
Ben cupped his own testicles, felt his cock thicken, harden as he imagined suckling those beautiful, full breasts. He'd seen them once at a party when they were fifteen and a senior girl dared Carleena to show her tits to the quarterback. A few too many wine coolers sent her bra flying and her shirt up.
He'd never seen naked breasts up close before and his fantasy was to stroke and flick her nipples. They'd stood up, hard and dark pink, slightly pebbled, and a magnet to any straight teenage boy.
The image fueled his desire and he pumped himself harder from tip to root until his dick stood on its own. Cool air from the vent swirled up his legs and he imagined Carleena on her knees, blowing on his thighs and hips, her mouth positioned to take his cock in deep and suck him until he came.
Carleena stepped into the water and wadded in the shallow end, legs and hips disappearing through the gentle waves. She closed her eyes, skimmed her fingers along the water's surface. Just watching her when she had no idea he was there made him horny. He could imagine her pulling her bathing suit aside, spreading her legs, and pleasuring herself while he watched, but any private moment, not just a sexual moment, made him hard.
She pushed off the wall, floated first on her stomach, then turned over until her face, hands, and perfect breasts surfaced. Her legs opened and closed, propelled her through the pool as she floated in the middle of the in-ground pool, her hair fanning around her face like Medusa in a two-piece. Each time she gave him a glimpse of her crotch he pulled harder, rubbed the head of his sensitive cock until he groaned and grimaced with the overwhelming stimulation.
"Carleena," he murmured.
He wanted to pound her, fuck her senseless in the pool or in her bedroom. She still had the same brass bed, still had the girly pastel pink walls he'd found accompanied all of his fantasies. Somewhere between junior high and adulthood she'd grown out of frills, but he wanted what he could never have.
But here he was in the house he'd considered his second home, watching her as he'd always done. The image of her after all this time, his affection for her as strong as ever, tightened his balls, made him ache with relief.
The air smelled of her, light and fresh and overwhelming. He needed her, as much as he could have of her, which would never be much. Stroke for stroke he imagined her meeting him, needing him to fill her as he wanted to be deep inside of her. He wanted to suckle her breasts, taste her inside and out.
The curtain fell around him, the air conditioner kicking off as relief washed over him, his seed caught in a tissue he'd taken from her dresser. A groan escaped him which he tried to stifle, as though he feared she or her mother would hear him.
He watched her a moment longer as she did the backstroke, her slender feet kicking through the water.
Getting off to her at a distance was as close as he'd ever be to holding her in his arms...
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