We clink our bottles and drink. Dustin, sour-faced, is still in his same expensive-looking sweater and ill-fitting khakis, but Beth now has on a black T-shirt featuring the album cover of Miles Davis’ “Kind of Blue” tucked into her jeans. Her body is incredible. I wink at her in recognition of the cool shirt, and she hides her smile behind another sip from the bottle. Dustin, busy guzzling his beer, doesn’t notice.
I show them around the rest of the house quickly, offering explanations of my favorite pieces of art and furniture. It doesn’t take too long; the house is large for one person, but not decadent.
At one point during the tour Dustin points his thumb at a closed door I didn’t explain. “Does this lead down to the basement where you keep the mutilated corpses of all the stranded travelers you take in?”
I can tell he’s trying to be an ass, but I laugh anyway. It’s pretty good. Beth isn’t as pleased.
“Shut it Dustin. Don’t be rude.”
She walks ahead, reading the spines of the books on a nearby shelf. I slap Dustin on the back to show there are no hard feelings, then grip his shoulder and pull him next to me until his body is touching mine. I keep it natural, but I tower over him, and I’m sure he can feel the muscle on my torso where his shoulder is wedged against it. He tries to extricate himself but I hold him close for another second or two before freeing him.
We end the tour in the living room, which is adjacent to the kitchen and has a door to the back patio. It’s almost pitch black through the glass, but I flip on the exterior lights to reveal the backyard: a grill, a glass table with the umbrella stowed, the beginning of a lawn that disappears into the murk. Before I flick the light off, Beth somehow spies the hot tub, even though it’s partially hidden around the corner of the house and hard to discern in the night with its dark cover. Nevertheless, she insists we turn it on and go for a dip.
“I haven’t been in one in forever, and it sounds perfect after our horrible day.”
Dustin looks mildly panicked and shuffles his weight on his feet. He talks quickly, searching for an excuse that will fit. “Oh, uh, are you sure? I don’t think I packed a bathing suit. There are probably bugs outside anyway. Also, I’m pretty hungry, shouldn’t we start thinking about dinner?”
I’m also getting hungry, but there’s no way I’m going to pass up an opportunity to see Beth in a bathing suit.
“No worries champ, I have some extra trunks.” I glance at his crotch and remember the small pecker he’s hiding in there. “Though they might not fit you quite right.”
He doesn’t respond, just tightens up his face and averts his eyes. The guy is riddled with self-confidence issues and insecurity. I would feel bad for him if he wasn’t dragging a beautiful, interesting woman like Beth down like an anchor. I make a decision.
“Tell you what, you get started on dinner and I will take Beth for a dip.” I keep my tone casual as I feel out this unknown threshold.
Dustin stares at me in disbelief. I want to look at Beth to see her reaction, but I know I can’t take my eyes from Dustin. This is a pivotal moment. I have been slowly eroding his control over the situation all evening, and he makes one last scramble for purchase.
“Oh, actually, um, I guess I will borrow a bathing suit if that’s —”
“No,” I say, cutting him off, “I think you making dinner sounds like a good plan. I’ll show you where everything is while Beth gets changed.” There’s nothing in my tone or cadence that suggests this is up for debate. It is a statement of fact.
He looks at his girlfriend with thinly veiled desperation. “Beth …”
She looks back and forth between us in surprised silence, but makes no effort to come to his aid. She seems to be really seeing Dustin for the first time, for the boy he still is underneath the bluster and the fancy clothes. Then she turns to me and all I see is a warm smile.
“Be right back.” Dustin’s mouth literally falls open in shock as he watches her walk toward to the guest room.
Arousal is coursing through my body. I’ve never done anything like this in my life. I’ve always been an assertive and confident person, but these are deep waters unknown to me. This first taste of control — of domination — over Dustin is hitting buttons I didn’t know I had. Aside from my deep sexual and intellectual attraction to his girlfriend, there is something in this dynamic between him and me that is exhilarating. Standing here, in my tall, muscular body with my large cock hanging between my legs, I look at him in his weakness and feel strong, powerful, unstoppable.
But I don’t want to overthink it and blow it. Before he can react I take him by the shoulder and lead him to the kitchen. I open the fridge, pull out ingredients for a salad and a rudimentary pasta dish and tell him where he can find the knives, cutting boards, pots and pans. I don’t care what he makes; food is now the last thing on my mind. I leave him there, holding a box of baby spinach in stunned silence.
I dart into my room and change into a bathing suit. Something short and tight. My body is still tingling in anticipation when I dip outside to turn on the hot tub. The air is chilly.
Beth enters just as I return into the living room. Any fantasies of her body I’d had time to concoct are incomparable to the real thing. Her breasts are tantalizing beyond description in her light blue bikini, filling the cups with the essence of feminine allure. Her stomach is flat with a just hint of softness above long shapely legs that look smooth to the touch.
Seeing my desire, she glances nervously around the room and does a quick twirl. I get a glimpse of her partially clothed ass, which seems somehow both soft and hard, round and tight. I toss her a towel, then put my hands on my hips so she can get a look at my body. I know she’s curious, and I let her get a good look.
I watch her looking at me. A momentary timidness is overcome when she sees my bulge, which has only grown with my arousal. I think about Dustin’s dumpy body and small cock. They’d been together for seven years. There’s no way that dunce can fuck her right. She must be thirsty. I want to feel her soft skin, slide my fingers under the fabric of her bikini top —
Dustin wanders back in the room. He’s about to ask me something about the kitchen when he sees his ravishing girlfriend drinking me in. He stops dead.
Before he can say anything, I move to block his view of Beth. I let him get a good look at my body though; his eyes dart for my tight bathing suit faster than hers did. Smiling, I again grab his shoulder and gently spin him back toward the kitchen. Speaking warmly but firmly I say, “Dustin, pour us two glasses of wine. I have some good bottles in the rack at the end of the counter. Any red will do. I have a feeling Beth here hasn’t had something really good to drink in a long time.”
I lay that ” really good” on so thick you could put a pat of butter on it and call it French toast. I realize I might be pressing my luck — am I really trying to steal this guy’s girlfriend from him right under his nose? Can that possibly work? — but I find that I can’t help it. It’s not insulting him that turns me on so much; it’s the way he just takes it, accepting my domination with quiet obedience, that sends the blood coursing through my body.