A Summer’s Day by europeanbob
It got to be lunchtime, and I decided I was ill. I told the boss I had a really bad headache, and he was sympathetic. It was the middle of summer, working in a stupidly hot warehouse, and I’d had enough. My new girlfriend had come to visit and was waiting for me at home, and I couldn’t stand working anymore.
I was twenty, home from university working for the summer. My parents had gone on holiday for a week, I had the house to myself, so Kris, who was 21 then, decided it might be a good idea to come and check out where I lived.
I was sweating badly walking up the hill from work to home. I comforted myself on the trek back thinking of the cold shower I’d have when I got there, then maybe I’d take Kris for a drink in the pub garden across the road.
Kris was not a country girl, so I didn’t know what she’d make of that idea. She was used to a speedier lifestyle; one of the first times we went out together, after an hour she thought we ought to get in a taxi and tell the driver to drive around while we fucked. Out of shyness I declined, gracefully.
I really thought she was too good for me back then. I’d met her on my degree course, and as soon as I saw her told myself this was the girl I wanted to marry. She was tall, about the same height as me, slim, with long dark hair, and big blue eyes. At lectures she always wore jeans and cardigans, disguising an amazing figure; her breasts were perfect, neither noticeably small nor large (the crude description would be ‘a handful.’) Her legs were long and beautifully formed, and her hips protruded just enough to give her a gorgeous shapely butt.
When I arrived at the front door of my house I was red faced and sweaty from the August sun, and out of breath from the walk. I paused on the step for a minute composing myself, and then let myself. “Hello?” I called. “Kris, I’m back.”
A moment passed and her head appeared around the top of my stairs. She looked surprised for a second, then regained her composure and ran down the stairs to greet me. “What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you for hours!”
“I was worried about you, here on your own.”
She walked straight past me, grabbing my shoulder on the way and pulling me into the front room behind her before sitting down heavily on the sofa. I sat down next to her.
“Have you had a nice morning?” she said, clutching my hand in hers. She drew it into her lap, and my eyes were drawn to her white legs and the bottom of her thighs. She was wearing a short, tight lilac skirt and a white vest. I looked into her brown eyes, staring at me attentively as I responded, while she made massaging gestures on my palm.
“Okay, about average. What have you been up to?”
She drew breath deeply and sank down on the sofa, letting go of my hands and raising her arms above her head. “Not much, not much.” She slipped down further, shutting her eyes. My own eyes flicked down, and saw she’d made her skirt ride up; she had no underwear on and her bush was well, there.
“Oh,” I said, leaning in to kiss her. She reciprocated passionately as my hand travelled up from her knee, teasing along her milky legs. As our mouhes played together and our tongues gently wet each others lips, her arms calm down over my head, and she pulled my head in closer. My index finger traced around the very top of her thighs, up around the pubic hair above her clitoris, then down to skip across her buttocks.
As we continued to kiss my finger broadly circled her pussy, very slowly edging closer to her slit. After a minute or so she leant hard against me, pushing me back, and I put the full pressure of my digit against her vaginal opening. It was extremely wet and with very little pressure I eased an inch of my finger into her usually tight cunt, before pulling it out sliding the mucosa up along her clit.
I pulled away from the kiss. “Why are you so wet?” Her eyes were still firmly closed, and she was panting as she seized my hand and guided it back to her quim. Without thinking I extended my index finger, and it sank in to her welcoming hole. She gasped, and my digit started making beckoning motions. “Why are you so wet?”
Her lips fell to mine again, and her tongue delved into me. Her hand was suddenly at my crotch, feeling my cock through my paint-splattered, and there with the eager encouragement of her hand and my finger three inches inside of her, I felt I was going to come straight away. “Wait.” I retracted my head and shifted my crotch back, trying to dissuade her hand, and I whipped my finger out of her.
She groaned, and I couldn’t tell if it was from pleasure or the pain of sudden withdrawal. “What?” she demanded, looking angry.
“I’m just worried the neighbours’ll see us. They’re home all day and the curtains are open.”
“OK,” she sighed, “let’s go upstairs.” She rose to her feet, the skirt still caught up around her waist. “Follow me.” She left the room with me close behind, trying to obscure her bare, heart-shaped bottom should the neighbours look.
At the bottom of the stairs she turned to me. “Make sure the front door’s locked.” Then she carried on up the stairs. The door was right by us, but I quickly checked it and turned to follow, relishing the sight of Kris’ behind ahead of me, enjoying the way she was rolling her buttocks, showing off as she climbed up to the first floor.
I jogged the last few steps, catching up behind her as she entered my room. She turned to face me and quickly began undoing my shirt buttons. I reached down between her legs and she spread them, allowing me to cup her moist pudenda in one hand. With the other I firmly pressed on her left breast, and slid my hand down pulling the vest material tight, accentuating the shape of her curve there, and the erect nipple beneath.
Once my shirt was removed I pulled her top over her head, then span her around, clutching her tits and rubbing my cock, still in the denim confines of my trousers, between her cheeks.
I slid one of my hands down across her belly and to her soft pubic hair, stroking it for a moment before continuing to slide down to her pussy.
“Let’s take a shower,” she gasped.
We left the bathroom door open, and in the time it took me to remove my trousers and boxers she had already taken off the thin belt her skirt had become and was under the warm jet of the shower. The cold surface of the wall gave my back a shock as I slid in behind her; she was leaning under the spray of water wetting her hair. My cock nestled comfortably into the crevice of her ass and, still seemingly concentrating on thoroughly watering her hair, she pushed up against me. I looked down to see my foreskin ebbing and flowing with Kris’ movements, aided by the gyrations of my hips.
I grabbed a bottle of moisturising shower gel off the shower shelf and aimed it at our point of contact, for the first time thinking of penetrating Kris’ asshole. Actually, perhaps that’s not true; at times when we had made love in the past, I had lain back as she sat facing away from me, giving me a clear glimpse of her puckered hole, and my fingers had gently caressed around there. She had never seemed to dislike the sensation, but had never spoken about it and I’d never dared venture any further.