Sweet Little Thing

[Miltone]

Imagine that your life is going along more or less acceptably, maybe not the way you would like it, but you can’t complain. You’re comfortable with who you are and with whom you hang with, you know what you like and of what you are capable. But then, beyond your control, something comes along that throws you off this anointed path and suddenly your life is changed, you aren’t the same person and will never look at the world in the same way again. Please read along as Original Cyn 2 and Yours Truly spin a tale of sexual discovery.

Frankie Joe Galway

OOC: By all outward appearances, Frankie Joe is an average guy. He’s on the tall side and athletic with brown hair and hazel eyes and a great tan from working outside with his landscaping business. Otherwise, he blends in with the crowd. His moment of stardom came when he played football in high school and his high school team made it to the state championship quarterfinals. But then he blew his knee out his freshman year in college, and ended up taking a degree in agricultural sciences. Now in his mid-thirties, Frankie has settled into a comfortable enough life. While not spectacular, Frankie can’t complain about the way things have turned out. He has his own successful business, a close group of good friends, and a cute little girlfriend. What more can he expect?

IC:

“Damn! Damn! Damn! I’m gonna miss that old tree!” Frankie Joe muttered as he stood out on his sunny patio, sunny for the first time in his memory now that the towering ash tree in his back yard had been taken down. There was just a small stump left and the scattering of sawdust on the ground. He rubbed his chin, grizzled from the whiskers of his goatee. “I had a lot of great times in that old tree!” he groused.

Ever since he was a kid, this back yard had always been a cool shady place, but now that the tree was gone—his favorite tree—the Saturday morning sun filled the yard with a warm brilliant light. The huge ash tree had grown tall and had stood over all around it for maybe 100 years, reaching 40 or 50 feet, its branches arching up and out, shading his yard and those surrounding. He had built a tree house in it where he spent endless hours and days with his childhood friends, hid from his parents in it on a bad report card day or two, and had even stolen his first kisses sitting on a branch with Mary Jo Hunsaker back in Junior High. But the emerald ash borer, a nasty pest inadvertently imported from China, had stricken the tree, leaving it scarred and barren of leaves.

The house had once belonged to his parents and Frankie had spent his childhood living there up until he went away to college. When his parents decided to retire to Florida a couple years back, his landscaping and tree service business was doing well enough that he offered to buy the place and moved back in. He had spent the past couple of years going through the house room by room, redoing his mother’s dated décor to suit his own taste, with a little help from his girlfriend Becky. Frankie had become satisfied with the way things were looking, but he hadn’t planned or expected this turn of events. He took one last drag from his cigarette and ground it out under his foot.

The day before, Frankie had stood out on the patio and sadly watched as his tree removal crew took the ash down. The sound of the chainsaw ripping through the trunks might as well have been ripping through his heart. By winter the wood now stacked so orderly up by the house would be aged enough for the fireplace and he knew that each log would remind him of this great old tree. At least he would have the resulting heart to assuage his sentimental sorrow.

Frankie looked around the yard. There was a pair of pear trees in one corner and a small maple in the other. The space in between was lined with lilac bushes and some other shrubs and flowerbeds that his mother had planted years before. He decided to take a good look at what was growing there now and maybe do something else to screen off the apartment building that lurked beyond the fence. Shit! That apartment building! Ever since it had been built several years before, he knew of the brown brick building lurking over the back fence, but was aware of it mostly in the winter after the leaves had fallen. But this was the first time he remembered ever seeing it in bright sunlight. Funny how something can be right next to you but escape your attention. Sure, he had heard the sound of car doors occasionally, or the boom of a resident tossing a bag of garbage into an empty dumpster, but he had never been all that aware of the place. Oh, well, he thought. Just one more thing to get used to.

Frankie moved down toward the back fence, ruminating over changes he might want to make on the landscaping now that the ash was gone. It was his business after all. Maybe some of the shrubs along the fence, stunted from years of shade from the ash tree could be taken out and replaced by something that would screen off the apartment. Maybe some arborvitaes or cedars could be set in and in a few years would block off most of the neighboring building.

As he moved along the fence, rustling his way through the shrubs, imagining how it might look after some changes, Frankie glanced up. It was then that he saw her for the first time, a girl, a blonde girl step out onto her second floor balcony, her short nightshirt reaching barely down to her hips. “Whew!” Frankie muttered. “What a great looking girl!” From his vantage point below her and maybe sixty feet away she was all legs and curves and flowing blonde hair. But then, as she leaned casually onto the railing, perhaps as she had ever since moving in, her nightshirt rode up revealing a shadowy glimpse of her Y. Frankie took a closer look and nearly choked. She was beautiful. Her long blonde hair trailing in the breeze, her full breasts were naked under the shirt and strained at the thin material, and then there was that damned shadow at the top of her legs. He felt himself twitch. The modest part of his personality knew that he should turn away, but the leering part said to go ahead and look. And he did.

At first she seemed to have her eyes closed, deeply breathing in the morning air, her breasts surging against her shirt with each breath. And when her eyes opened, she seemed to be looking both ways along her side of the fence, everywhere but at him. Maybe she couldn’t see him buried in the shrubs along the fence. He chuckled … that was the way it normally went with him and pretty women, always there but never noticed. The girl stood back from the railing and reached her arms up to stretch. Her shirt was pulled tight against the pointed globes of her breasts, showing off her pert erect nipples and lifting the bottom edge of her shirt up far enough for him to clearly see the shaven cleft of her pussy.

“Oh, Fuck!” Frankie blurted out as he stumbled in the shrubs and felt a deep throb between his legs. “Jesus! What a sweet little thing!” He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the magnetic draw of the girl’s appearance. But as he stood there mesmerized, the girl sighed, shrugged, spun around and disappeared into her apartment. The bottom of her ass cheeks seemed to wink goodbye to him. Damn! Frankie chuckled to himself and then turned back to the shrubs along the fence. But the rest of the morning, as he developed a landscaping for his back fence, he couldn’t avoid thinking of the striking young woman he’d seen on the apartment balcony. Even when Becky, his girl friend, stopped by in the afternoon, he kept seeing the image of the blonde girl in his mind, stretching up to greet the morning, her innocent nakedness tantalizing him.

“Missing that tree really makes a difference,” Becky noted as she stood at the kitchen sink looking out into the back yard while she washed the dishes, helping Frankie clean up around the house.

“Huh?” Frankie said distractedly drying the plates and putting them up into the cabinet.

“I said that cutting down that tree really makes a difference,” Becky said. “It’s so much brighter out there.”

“Yeah, it does I guess,” Frankie remarked slowly, still caught up in the fog of his thoughts.

“Wow, you can see those apartments really well now,” Becky said cheerfully with a little laugh. “Maybe you’ll make some new friends.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Frankie said, feeling just a trace of guilt as the image of the blonde girl popped into his head again.

“Nothing,” Becky remarked, shutting off the water and starting to wipe down around the sink. “Just that, who knows, you might just make some new friends.”

“Nah, I doubt it,” Frankie said dismissing her comment as he put the last of the dried dishes away. He hung up the damp towel and glanced sideways at Becky. She was a cute girl, long brown hair, big dark eyes, and always a sweet smile. Her snug pink top clung to the very modest curves of her breasts. He stepped up behind her and snaked his hands around under her arms to cup her firm little breasts.

“Frankie!” Becky exclaimed as she tried to finish cleaning up around the sink while Frankie persisted in playing with her tits.

“What, Becky Baby?” he asked, nuzzling his face near her ear and gently pinching her taut little nipples underneath her clothes.

“Your goatee tickles,” she squealed.

“Oh, yeah?” Frankie growled, as he ground his thickening cock up against the plush chubby curves of her ass. “Does this tickle?”

“Noooo,” Becky giggled as Frankie continued to grind himself against her ass and then sent his hands wandering up underneath her top. “Frankie! What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing, Becky Baby,” he replied, reaching up to push her bra away from her small breasts and then cupping them firmly with both hands. As he pressed Becky against the sink counter and roughly fondled her little tits, he imagined that it was the blonde girl’s full curvy breasts that he was feeling and her tight bare ass that he was grinding his cock against. “Nothing at all.”

“Oh, Frankie!” Becky moaned as his hand dropped down between her legs to rub eagerly against the mound of her sex. “Frankie … no … not now … Frankie … I just had a shower … Frankie!”

 

[Original_Cyn2]

Tania

Tania opened her eyes slowly, stretching sleepy limbs with a languor that belied her satisfaction. As the events of the previous day flood her mind she shook off the languor with an impatient shake of her head. Bounding up with an energy fueled by pure glee, the duvet skittering halfway across the room, she scampered through her Spartan bedroom to an equally austere living room.

Except this morning, the rich fabrics in swatches that adorned every surface made it seem an exotic palace, rich with satins and brocades. Heaps of authentic Brussels lace lay scattered across the carpet and half finished designs, scribbled in the heat of some artistic moment lay like confetti everywhere, mute testament to a triumphant yesterday.

She’d done it…she’d pulled in the position she’d always dreamed of. Her feet jogged in place, a happy dance, as she threw her head back and giggled. Tania Hardesty, the next costume designer for the Historical Renaissance Theatre. She fell to her knees, her t-shirt riding high on unclad hips, pulling the abundance of lush material to her body, reveling in their textures, her imagination scurrying from one design to another like a chaotic butterfly from one exotic bloom to the next.

Her moment of indulgence turned from delight, briefly to annoyance and then just plain curiosity as she became conscious of the deep-throated mechanical growl coming from just beyond her balcony.

‘How sad,’ she thought to herself, as her curiosity led her outside to take in the magnificent ash tree now lying in segments beyond the fence that shielded the neighbors from their complex. Its vibrant green leaves were already beginning to wilt, their colors fading like the life breath of the glorious old tree. She felt the surge of tears to her eyes and tossed her head back, chiding herself silently for her silliness.

The heat of the early morning sun touched her face, illuminating brilliant golden tresses like a halo around her head. She paused for a moment, glorying in its physical caress. Leaning into the railing, Tania perused the change and caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of her eye. Trying not to be obvious, she tracked the movement, startled to find a rather tall and appealingly muscular man staring back at her. Slowly, she continued to peruse the fence line, the soft morning breeze playing about her thighs bringing a bit of mischief to her posture.

Appealing, indeed, she mused, wondering who he was. Was he distressed, as she was, by the removal of the majestic behemoth? Again, she shook herself, smiling at her whimsy. He was, undoubtedly, the tree trimmer, making his living off the clock and interested only in getting the job done. Tania felt the warm surge of intrigue in the hardening buds of nipples against the sheer linen of her nightshirt.

Giving in to the impulse she tossed her head back, an offering, of sorts, lifting her arms to the sun in a slow, provocative stretch that bordered on the illicit. She could feel the heat of his stare from where she stood, kindling a similar heat that licked through her belly. The contrast of heat and cool air, stroking the more intimate parts of her anatomy brought her back to reality with a sigh. With one last swift glance at his tempting features she turned and disappeared back inside her apartment.

Spending the balance of the morning in lazy diffidence, she indulged herself in the last of the palatable coffee in her cupboards, whiling away several hours with her sketchbook and pencil. When, with a start, she realized that the sketch in front of her did not resemble the Renaissance period dress she’d been thinking of, but instead was a very good likeness of the young man that had graced her neighbors back yard…well…that and the fact that her other hand had slipped between her thighs leaving her edgy and…distracted, she set down the tools.

‘Time to accomplish something,’ she thought, stepping out of the shower, binding her hair back in a simple pony tail. Perusing her closet, she chose a sheer white skirt and top, stepping in to them absently. Glancing in the mirror, she smiled in satisfaction, taking in the soft lines of the outfit draping her lithe body in a style that mimicked the Romans, teasing the eye with her curves and hollows. The white leather sandals, set with mock gold and gemstones, tying up the ankle made just the impression she’d been unconsciously looking for.

Time to shop, she thought with a grimace – she hated shopping and did everything she could to get out of it. Inevitably, by the time she gave in to necessity, it was a day long affair.

‘Let’s see…’ mumbling to herself as she let herself out of the apartment, ‘the butcher, the baker…the candle stick maker.’ A wry smile lit her face as she thought of the new shop she’d seen just the other day. Candles…candles would be fun. Now, if she put that after the drycleaners, and lunch after…no, lunch first, then the mall. Dinner at the Brazilian Grill…yes, that would be fun…perhaps she could call Lucille to join her…and then at seven o’clock, that fun little opening at the gallery…that might put her at the grocery store pretty late…but…” she shrugged, hating the grocery store the most…it would do.

“Hello Mrs. Bartholomew,” she caroled to a neighbor, her plans set in her mind as she headed out onto the street. After all, a girl had to have some fun!

 

[Miltone]

Frankie Joe Galway

Becky leaned forward, resting her elbows on the countertop, her firm little breasts crushed against the cool granite. Her shirt and bra lay in a crumpled heap on the counter, her jeans pooled around her left foot, the remains of her panties ripped from her hips and tossed aside. Drops of sweat from their heated bodies had pooled on the countertop and hot sticky cum dripped from her pussy and ran down her thigh. She looked over her shoulder at Frankie Joe who stood by the open refrigerator pulling out the last two beers.

”Want one?” he asked her, holding one toward her.

“Yeah … I guess,” she said, standing up and brushing her hair back from her face. “Frankie?”

“What, babe?” Frankie replied, kicking the fridge door closed and facing her, his spent manhood still partially erect.

“Just what was that all about?” she asked softly and hesitantly as she took the offered beer from him. “Normally you’re always so gentle and loving … but that was … was … was …”

“Was what?” he asked, reaching his hand over to pat her cheek.

“Kind of … rough,” Becky said meekly. “It kind of scared me.”

“But you got off didn’t you?” Frankie asked. Becky didn’t answer. The faint traces of a grin curled the corners of her mouth and set dimples into her flushed cheeks. “Didn’t you?”

“Well …” Becky hesitated. “Well …”

“You did, didn’t you?” he said, dropping his hand down to cup her wet dripping sex. “Didn’t you?”

“Y-yes,” she admitted sheepishly. She flinched when his fingers probed her entrance and his thumb brushed against her clit. “But I … I’m not sure that I like it that way … so hard and rough … it makes me think that you don’t love me … that you’re just using me.”

“Huh … really,” Frankie replied. He had to admit that he did feel a bit more aroused and inspired than usual, but then their lovemaking was usually pretty dull and routine, only in the evening, only in the bed, usually with the lights out. He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t the image of the sexy neighbor he had seen earlier in the day that had inspired him, but he couldn’t deny that her image was lingering in his mind. “You know what I feel about you, babe. Besides, I thought you said that you wanted me to be more passionate.”

“I do,” Becky answered. “I was reading this article in Cosmo about 10 ways to improve your sex life and thought maybe you could read it and get some ideas.”

“Sure, I guess I can take a look at it.”

Becky took a long pull on her beer and began to pull her clothes back together. Frankie watched as she slipped on her bra and fastened it in place. He didn’t make a move to get himself dressed.

“Why do you wear this?” he asked, reaching over to finger the strap of the soft cotton bra. “You have such pretty little tits … you should show them off more often.”

“Frankie!” she protested. “I’m not that big and need all the help I can get.”

“But they’re beautiful … you’re beautiful,” he said, moving his hand over her cotton-clad breast to cup it.

“Frankie!”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Becky Babe. You’re a hot chick and you just don’t know it.”

Becky held up her torn panties, unwearable now that they were rent apart. She frowned and ran her hand over her dripping sex.

“Look at me! Eww, what a mess!” She wiped her hand over her dripping pussy. “I really need to shower again!”

Barely dressed, Becky pulled up her jeans, hurried out of the kitchen, and up the stairs. A minute or two later Frankie Joe heard the water running in the shower. He pulled on his shorts and stepped out onto the patio. The remnants of the ash tree were still scattered about the yard, the trunk sliced up where it had fallen, the branches removed and stacked by the fence. He’d have to make sure his buddy Big Ray would come by with his splitter. At least he’d have a nice supply of firewood for the winter.

Then his eyes lifted up to the apartment building, centering on the balcony of the blonde girl he had seen that morning. The windows were dark. She was probably gone for the day. Classy chicks like her usually spent most of their time someplace else, not sitting around a cramped apartment waiting for guys like him to screw up the courage to knock on her door. Frankie pictured her out on a boat with some rich handsome guy, or with a cute girlfriend at an art fair browsing through the acrylics and watercolors, or maybe at an afternoon society fundraiser, flitting from guest to guest, flirting with them and sweetly cajoling them into donating to such a worthy cause.

Yeah, he liked the sound of that. But remembering the subtle way the shadow and light played between her legs and how her shirt was pulled tightly against the swell of her breasts when she stretched and arched her back sent another tingle down his spine, straight to his groin. Frankie Joe could feel his manhood grow underneath the cotton of his shorts. He thought of Becky upstairs in the shower and for a moment entertained the notion of joining her for a little round two action. Nah, she’d only make a fuss about her hair or needing another shower or some other raggy complaint, he thought. The blonde chick in the apartment wouldn’t complain; hell, if she didn’t initiate it, she’d probably beg for it.

* * *

Becky stayed the rest of the day and they went to dinner at the Border Cantina and after to the movies. Frankie Joe had wanted to see Transporter 2 but Becky held out for Just Like Heaven. It was hard for Frankie to stay awake and afterward when Becky asked if he wanted to do anything else, he yawned and shrugged and ended up driving home alone following a brief little clinch of lukewarm parting passion.

Driving up Center Street Frankie Joe remembered that there wasn’t any beer left in the fridge at home and the lights of the Qwicky Mart/Pharmacy caught his eye. A quick stop for a 12 pack and he’d be set for the night. Surprisingly for the late hour, the store wasn’t empty. A couple frumpy housewives and a confused soccer dad wandered around looking for whatever. He quickly strode down the greeting card aisle and headed toward the cooler section in the far corner. He didn’t bother shooting a quick glance down the makeup aisle cause there would be no hot chicks on a Saturday night. He frowned. Not even a hot mom in sight.

Passing by the paper products aisle he caught sight of a blur in white. Whoa! Frankie Joe stopped and backed up a step to sneak a peak along the shelves filled with Kleenex, paper towels, and toilet paper. Blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail swishing from side to side, a sheer white top and a matching skirt swirling about a pert pair of buns set atop long, long legs. Yah, hey! This is more like it! The blonde was browsing along the aisle walking away from him, the sway of her hips and the swish of her skirt drawing his attention. The boost from her heeled white sandals added to the sexy curve of her legs.

Damn! He didn’t remember needing any ass wipe but gave the thought quick consideration. Hmm, the next aisle over was hair care. Maybe if he turned down that aisle she would be coming the other way and he could get a closer less obvious look at her. Frankie Joe spent several minutes looking over the various brands and types of shampoo and conditioner, trying to assume the look of an approachable bachelor, part confusion, part concern, but not entirely clueless. Too bad he really didn’t need anything since they had a sale on volumnizing conditioner. What could be taking her so long, he thought. With a grunt Frankie Joe gave up his little rouse and walked down to the main cross aisle. Looking both ways he didn’t see the girl, so he shrugged and walked over to the beer cooler two aisles away.

Retrieving a 12 pack of Labatt’s Blue, Frankie Joe walked back down the main aisle taking surreptitious glances down each aisle looking for that sweet vision in white, but finding no sight of her anywhere. A great looking girl just doesn’t disappear without a trace, he thought. Oh, well! That’s my usual luck!

When he strode toward the checkout he saw a blonde ponytail and a white outfit. He stepped up his pace and beat out the hockey dad with a loaded cart to take the next place in line behind her. Mmm, nice perfume! Trimly delicate shoulders, a narrow waist, firm round ass cheeks, all displayed nicely beneath a translucent white fabric. It wasn’t until she turned around toward him and gave him that infamous quick polite little “hello, and now go away smile” that he had seen countless times before that he realized she was the girl from the apartment. Her smile faded quickly and she turned back toward the checkout. She sighed deeply as the older woman at the counter was having trouble with the credit-debit card pass-through.

Frankie stood nonchalant and dispassionate, just another tall single guy dressed in blue jeans and a sport shirt. He unobtrusively took a quick inventory of the items in her plastic Qwicky Mart/Pharmacy hand basket. There were the usual mundane toiletries and expected feminine items that no woman could leave the place without. But he couldn’t help noticing a bottle of scented massage oil, a large container of FemGlide, a box of Trojan extra sensitive condoms, and an extra-large package of batteries, among some other items he couldn’t see.

When the older lady finally cleared the checkout, the girl moved forward. Frankie couldn’t take his eyes off the sumptuous curves of her ass, jiggling enticingly underneath the skirt. She has to be wearing a thong, he thought. When he lifted his eyes up along the subtle curve of her back he couldn’t see the telltale signs of a bra. What if she isn’t wearing anything underneath, he thought. He felt that old familiar twinge between the legs as his maleness said, “Hello, Baby!”

“Does this really work?” the clerk asked the girl holding up a small box as she scanned the items the girl had set onto the counter.

“Oh, yeah,” the girl said with an engaging laugh. “Really well. Believe me!”

It almost looked like the girl glanced back at Frankie for a second. She was smiling and her cheeks were flushed.

“And your guy will really like it too,” the girl added. Then she leaned forward and said something to the clerk that Frankie couldn’t quite make out. The clerk laughed and her face quickly flushed also as she placed the small box into a plastic shopping bag.

When the girl glanced back again, Frankie tried to maintain his nonchalant stance and was glad that the 12 pack of beer covered the erection that was bulging inside his blue jeans. He eyed the miscellaneous niffy-naffs on the racks by the checkout, trying to find something to take his mind off the beguiling young woman standing at the counter. When he looked back again, the girl had cleared the checkout, gathered her bags and was trotting out the door.

“Next, please,” the clerk called out insistently.

“Oh, yeah,” Frankie said absently, his eyes glued to the backside of the gorgeous girl whose heels were clicking out toward the parking lot. “Sorry.”

The clerk checked his beer through quickly and Frankie Joe hustled out to his car. A yellow sports car with the top down was zipping out onto the street from the parking lot, a blonde ponytail trailing in the late summer breeze. Damn! All the way back home, he felt a tingle rumbling deep in his belly and thighs making his cock throb. God damn!

When he got home, Frankie changed into a more comfortable pair of baggy shorts and pounded a beer. He couldn’t get the image of that girl out of his mind, the short white skirt that barely covered her fine firm little ass, the sheer top that showed off the perfect curves of her breasts, the flickering smile, the eyes—they were blue, weren’t they? He grabbed a second beer and sat outside on the patio. Looking up at the sky he could see the waning moon rising in the east. To the north stood the apartment building. There was a light on in her patio door showing through the drapes now drawn closed. He saw a shadow, the profile of the girl pulling her top off and stepping out of her skirt. Frankie Joe leaned forward trying to see better, but then she was gone. Another light was turned on and the one by the patio door was extinguished.

Shit! Frankie remained out on the patio until long after his beer was finished, but the girl’s apartment was still. He finally convinced himself to go inside. Stripping naked for bed he stroked his rampant erection. He pulled back the covers and climbed onto the bed. He replayed every image he had caught of the girl; he imagined her in his bedroom, undressing for him, her lithe naked body moving toward him, curves bouncing and swaying with her every movement as she crawled onto his bed; he touched himself picturing her hands touching him, her lips kissing him, her mouth closing around his fully erect member.

No! I’m not going to do this! Frankie let go of himself. As much as his aroused body craved relief, he couldn’t imagine these things. He knew what happened every time he jerked off to a real woman: nothing ever happened—ever! It didn’t make sense, he knew, but he had this overwhelming feeling that if he masturbated thinking of a girl he had met that nothing would ever happen between them. Sure this girl was something else, maybe above and beyond his class. Hell, with his luck he would probably never run into her again! But tonight with his body resonating with a supremely titillated provocation, he didn’t want to give up that remotely slim possibility. His throbbing cock plopped down onto his naked belly. Frankie Joe rolled over onto his side and wrapped his arms around the large bulky pillows. Tonight, he would have to be content with seeing her in his dreams. That will have to do!

 

[Original_Cyn2]

Tania

Tania flushed with the force of her frustration. Again the sun, bright and hot, caressed her golden skin as she perched, one hip canted, against the rail of the balcony. She was oblivious to its heat, the force of her own hunger an erotic blaze in her belly making nature’s work seem pallid by comparison.

Her mind roamed over the images that had frolicked through her dreams, an erotic abandon the night before, her face turning reflexively toward the neighboring fence line as if the sheer force of imagination could produce him.

The feel of his hands, hard, a little rough, gripping her wrists…or plunging themselves deep into the tangled mane of her hair, their decisive grip anchoring firmly as he pulled her toward him…the brush of her breasts against his torso and the immediate lick of flame that had coiled within her from the simple touch…

Slowly, her fingers ran over the sun-warmed silk that covered her to mid thigh, hesitating briefly over her belly, reveling in the heat below her touch before wandering lightly upward. The peaks of her breasts, sensitive to begin with, rose hungrily with her touch, tender and responsive.

Or God…the moment he’d parted her thighs with those large, insistent hands, his fingers splayed firmly over her warm flesh. His gaze, blue green and vivid with intensity, perused her expression, gleaming with satisfaction as she’d whimpered, thrusting her hips upward without volition.

She could still feel the force of the satisfaction that had resonated from him like a low hum. And later, the feel of him, rampant and demanding against her palms, against the eager caress of her lips…and later yet, against….

With a low growl of disgust, Tania pulled herself out of her daydreams, blushing but unsurprised to pull her hand from between her thighs, slicked with the sweet ardor that had been a constant companion through the night. With a shake of her head, she tried to dismiss her own ringing pleas for more…much more…that had shattered the dream and awakened her.

She wasn’t even sure that had been him, at the check-out line. Recognition was not, by any means, her forte. Names and faces blurred for her, one into the other, the finer details disappearing from her inner canvas leaving a general sense of the person she’d seen or met. The man behind her had been, probably, only similar. But he’d fueled her libido to prodigious heights, she admitted, coloring again at the sheer force of her reaction to him…real and fantasy.

Her mind wandered back to her reaction, real time, in the small market and she snorted with disgust. She’d never been coy, or shy, or even reasonably reserved on the subject of sex and yet….she couldn’t dismiss her reaction last evening.

She’d turned to glance at a magazine on the rack, taking in the hockey dad and his groaning cart with a grin before the blur of movement behind him froze her in her tracks. She recognized the landscaper before swinging back toward the cashier, her heart pounding. And if she’d ever been more aware of anyone in her life…she couldn’t remember when. Then the agonizing moment as she’d looked into her basket. In response, her smile had been frigid with embarrassment, coming across unfriendly and cold. She couldn’t get out of there soon enough.

She couldn’t get him out of her mind either, she admitted with a sigh. Glancing down into the parking lot, she took in the dusty sheen coating the yellow paint of her car. A perfect task to get her mind off things, her imagination insisted with an evil little chuckle. It certainly wasn’t intentional that her apartment faced the neighbors yard…up until yesterday it hadn't ever been an issue. Her eyes off the stack of logs still lying in that yard.

Wandering into her bedroom, she brushed her hair back into another ponytail and slipped into a brief pair of ragged shorts and a white t-shirt sans bra. “Be quiet!” she demanded of her conscience, stamping her foot lightly. She gave her skimpy bikini a quick glance and felt herself vindicated as she walked out of the bedroom in her shorts. Gathering buckets and bottles she proceeded down to the parking lot. It needed a good wash…and doing it herself....that would have to do.

 

[Miltone]

Frankie Joe Galway

It was a beer-fueled haze that Frankie awoke to, coupled with an insistent pounding in his head that rolled him over onto his back with a groan. Damn! I shouldn’t have had that last beer last night! His eyes were barely opened, just enough to capture the warm morning light. He stretched his arms above his head, knocking a pillow to the floor. When he reached for it, he became aware of the monster between his legs, a raw resolute erection that sent vivid vibrations resonating through his body. He often awoke with morning wood, but rarely with something so spectacular.

Shit! That’s right! I didn’t jerk off last night! And his proudly protruding manhood was virtually begging for it. As his fingers and palm brushed against it, the engorged sensitive head, the thick veined shaft, hard as steel, he remembered the girl, the girl from the neighboring apartment. Sure, he thought of her but didn’t want to. He didn’t want to jinx himself; he couldn’t touch himself and have her in his thoughts. He wouldn’t. Yet when he began to imagine Becky, his sweet girlfriend Becky, the intensity suddenly began to fade, instantly overcome no doubt by the need to relieve his bladder, and that killed any further erotic notions.

Afterwards, Frankie Joe stood in the bathroom, naked, washed his hands and brushed his hair and teeth. He glanced out the window at the morning light, the sun was hot already, a gray haze lining the horizon. Then he gazed over toward the apartment and caught a streak of blue contrasting with the muted brown brick of the building. Was that her leaning against the railing again, a silken nightshirt clinging to her lovely curves? And was that her hand, gliding down over her flat belly then up over her breast, the fine sharp points emerging through the luxurious silk?

Frankie Joe felt it again and didn’t need to look down. His hand found it fully erect and throbbing urgently. He took a deep breath ordered himself to stop. This was too fucking weird! Stroking off while spying on a neighbor! Jesus! How low have I sunk? He shook it off, slipped on a pair of shorts and a tank top and headed down to breakfast.

From the kitchen window he could see that she was gone from her balcony. Probably off to something fun and exciting. Girls like her lived in a world different from him, a whirlwind of activity and excitement that Frankie Joe could only dream of. He knew what his day held forth: he needed to get the logs from the ash tree rolled over to where his buddy, Dale, could bring in his log splitter. And the overgrown maple in the corner of the yard that he had rarely noticed until the huge old ash tree came down needed some serious pruning. He felt like he needed to get out into the fresh air. A little yard work on a sunny Sunday afternoon would be perfect, sun, fresh air, some exercise; all the right things he needed to get that sweet little thing off his mind. So he cooked himself a big breakfast and ate it out on the patio.

Eating outside helped make the segue from breakfast to work nearly seamless. Moving the sections of the old tree trunk was a nice warm up and Frankie Joe pulled off his tank top to mop his brow. Next step was retrieving the ladder and saws from his truck to get after the maple. He trimmed down a few low hanging branches then laid the ladder up against the trunk. Hand saw in tow, Frankie Joe climbed up into the halo of branches and began to survey what needed to come down.

From his vantage point on the ladder, he could see over the back fence into the parking lot of the apartment building. There were mostly small nondescript colorless Asian sedans and a smattering of SUVs in neutral safe colors. Frankie Joe shrugged and went to turn back to taking inventory of doomed tree limbs. Then he saw it. A yellow sportscar, the black cloth top folded up, and a girl bent over the hood with a soapy sponge. It was the girl, the sweet little thing, no doubt! He watched as she ran the sponge over the curves of the hood and front fenders, almost as if her hands were caressing the vehicle. Lucky Mustang! When she stood up to inspect her handiwork, he nearly dropped his handsaw. The front of her white t-shirt was damp and transparent, clinging to the swell of her breasts and revealing the rosy puckered circles of her nipples.

Unmindful of his gaze, the girl bent over to dip her sponge in the bucket and moved around to the other side of the car, now with her back to him. He watched intently as she moved the sponge over the hood painstakingly, leaning forward to reach every inch of yellow paint with a sensual circular motion. The hem of her cut off shorts rose up as she leaned forward, revealing the lower curves of her firm little ass, the gusset of her homemade shorts barely covering that sweet little cleft in between. There was the cutest little wiggle to her ass as she worked her sponge back and forth.

He felt it again, like a bolt of electricity jolting through him, an urgent arousing wave of sensation that went straight to his loins. Underneath his loose-fitting khaki shorts, Frankie Joe felt his manhood respond and he had to reach down and redirect it to a more comfortable upward pointing position. He watched her move along the side of the car, working up and down the fenders and door and stooping down for the rocker panels. Working her way around the car, she seemed unmindful of his admiring gaze. She didn’t once look up toward where he stood on the ladder in the middle of the maple tree. Perhaps in the shadow of the branches he was shielded from her view. Then she squatted down at each wheel, taking a brush to the chromed wheels. Once satisfied, she dragged over a hose from the building and began to rinse the car off. She held the nozzle with one hand and ran her other hand over her forehead, brushing errant strands of blonde hair back from her eyes. The mist of the spray was drifting back toward her on the morning breeze and she seemed to step into it, closing her eyes and stretching her body toward the refreshing haze drifting over her.

There was something about the way she savored the mist, moving into the path of the spray, the same way she had stood in the morning sun, something sensuous and arousing. Although his body was responding in the most obvious ways, there was something being set off deep inside him. The way she stood, the way she moved, and the way she directed the spray to rinse off her car was triggering an unaccustomed reaction inside him. This wasn’t just sex, although that had something to do with it. It was something that he had never experienced before and he was entirely captivated.

Then her eyes opened and seemed to focus directly on Frankie Joe. For a brief eternal moment he was struck motionless. Her blue eyes—or were they green—looked straight at him. Was that a faint smile of amusement, he wondered, or a look of resignation? Maybe it was pretty creepy for him to be watching her, but he wasn’t deliberately peeping, he was trimming the goddamned tree. Frankie Joe looked away, up into the tree, lifted his handsaw, and began to saw feverishly at a nearby limb. Fortunately it was one that he had intended to prune away. With a crack it came down and Frankie pushed it away to the ground and looked around for the next limb. He tried not to look back to the girl, but couldn’t help stealing glances as she finished rinsing off the car and began to towel it dry. Yet when she bent over to dry off the hood there was a more exaggerated wiggle to her ass.

Jesus! Maybe she didn’t really see me, maybe she was just, you know, into the moment. Yeah, that’s it! All Frankie Joe had to do was ignore her, ignore his urge to look at her gorgeous body clad in a a wet t-shirt and damp shorts, and ignore the throbbing monster in his shorts. Frankie Joe looked away, desperately throwing himself into his pruning routine. He climbed up another rung of the ladder and sawed viciously at the next offending tree limb, working up a sweat that ran down his chest and back.

 

[Original_Cyn2]

Tania

Within moments Tania knew the shorts had been a mistake. She wasn’t prone to daydreams or even, for the most part, fantasies, but her imagination refused to let her forget the dreams and the man who’d haunted them.

With every movement she made the gentle pressure of the denim seam between her legs taunted her. The circular motion of the sponge over the hood of the car brought a sway to her hips, the traitorous fabric of her shorts rubbing against the apex of her sex.

His lips, the soft caress of his kisses as he’d trailed down her belly, pausing briefly, as if waiting for the greedy whimper that spilled from her lips. Moving down to the ardor slicked folds of her sex and parting them with his tongue, making her breath catch deep within. Tracing small circles around the swelling bloom of her clit, teasing her senses exquisitely.

“Oh God,” the exclamation, half moan, half demand brought her back to her surroundings and she flushed with embarrassment. She glanced up to catch the wide eyes of a neighbor – she couldn’t remember his name – smiling apologetically as he fumbled his keys, dropping them and retrieving them hastily. He smiled back at her, blushing, hastily turning toward his vehicle.

“Oh get a grip, girl,” she muttered, standing up straight, arching her back to relieve the ache that bending over had provoked. She felt her breasts brush tight against the wet fabric of her t-shirt, sending a shudder through her as she stretched.

The slow, unsated ardor of her daydreams accompanied her as she finished her task. She reached for the hose, one final rinse and the wind, as if in complicity with her wandering thoughts, blew a fine, cold mist back over her heated flesh. She reveled in the contrast, her body, hot and straining for relief, the mist, a cold caress that left her breathless. Closing her eyes, Tania reveled in the sensual contrast.

When she opened her eyes, he was there. For a moment, she believed it her imagination, the familiar figure on the ladder an apparition fashioned from her own greedy desire. A small, wistful smile fashioned itself on her lips. Then he turned from her, attacking the tree with a concentration that wounded her, his obvious disinterest a novelty that brought her up short. She bit her lip, applying her own concentration to drying the vehicle before her.

Again, the motion of her body over the hood derailed her, hunger flaming through her, the damp warmth between her thighs bringing aching awareness of the figure behind her. She straightened her shoulders, tossing the damp cloth to the ground. Biting her lip at her own audacity, she walked toward the fence line, her eyes on the man that held her a sensual prisoner.

“Excuse me…” steeling herself for stunning defeat, her voice rang huskily between them. Throwing modesty to the wind, she was determined to introduce herself. With no notion of what else to say, she froze as he turned toward her…

 

[Miltone]

Frankie Joe Galway

One limb then the next fell away, the sawdust pluming down along Frankie Joe’s arm and spilling onto his shoulders, sticking to his sweat-streaked skin. He wiped at his dripping brow and glanced up toward the crown of the maple tree. There wasn’t anything else left to prune away, the remaining limbs green and healthy. Then he heard a voice, deep and dusky, a purring feminine voice that drew out the vowels enticingly.

“Excuse me.”

Frankie Joe almost looked up toward his house but knew it wasn’t Becky. Her voice was thin and chirpy and squeaky and this one was … well, quite something else. He felt a shiver rattle down along his spine as the words bounded over the back fence. He looked in that direction and saw her—the girl—now standing just over the fence, one hand resting lightly on her hip, the other sort of hanging on the breeze as her forearm waved idly back and forth. A lump formed in his throat and his heart pounded as Frankie Joe looked down at the girl. Her breasts rose up proudly against her nearly transparent t-shirt, her lips parted, her light eyes gazing up at him expectantly.

“Oh, hi,” Frankie Joe said, surprised by the encounter and forcing a quick smile. He didn’t know exactly what to say and simply blurted out, “You, uh … look wet.”

The girl looked down at herself and laughed. She nodded and looked back up directly at him, her face clearly flushed and her lips curled into a full smile.

“Yeah, the hose sort of got away on me,” she said. A slight giggle stirred her words. “Say, you’re the guy from the Qwiky Mart, aren’t you? Remember? Last night?”

Frankie Joe’s reticent lack of a quick response had prompted her last little questions.

“Oh, yeah. That’s right,” he smiled sheepishly. “Late night beer run.”

All Frankie Joe could think of was that she looked incredibly sexy, her dampened clothes clinging to her very womanly curves, her skin clear and pink from exposure to the sun, her blonde hair framing her pretty face with damp tendrils, but he couldn’t say that, not when just meeting her. He should … he should introduce himself.

“I’m Frankie. Frankie Galway.”

“Nice to meet you, Frankie. I’m Tania,” she said with a cute little wave.

Oh, what a name! Frankie Joe knew she had to have a name like that. She wasn’t a Sally or a Mary or a Susan. It had to be exotic and sensual, fitting the provocative way she wore her sexuality as if it were a diaphanous gown, revealing, earthy, desirable. Shit! I can’t say that either! Must be polite … make a good impression …

“Nice to meet you, Tania,” he replied instead. Glancing down at her over the back fence from his place high up on the ladder, she looked delicate and vulnerable, her face upturned, her light eyes squinting slightly in the sunlight.

“Nice to see you again,” Tania said, her lips curling into a deeper smile.

Frankie Joe was aware of her eyes raking over him. She must like what she sees, he thought, pleasantly surprised. All the hours working outside during the summer, shirtless, had bronzed his muscular shoulders and chest, now glistening with sweat. When he felt the heat of her gaze settle below the damp waistband of his khaki shorts, he realized something else. Given his position up on the ladder above her, his rampant, bulging arousal, and the baggy legs of his shorts, she must be getting quite a view. He suddenly felt his face grow flushed as his heartbeat pounded loudly in his chest. He felt … exposed.

Tania stuck her thumbs through the belt loops of her shorts, tugging them lower on her hips, clearly revealing the dimpled nuance of her navel and the supple curves of her belly. Her hips swayed back and forth enough to send a delightful jiggle to her breasts, still visible through the translucence of her dampened t-shirt. Frankie Joe looked away. Time for small talk.

“Until I had to take down that old ash tree,” Frankie Joe said, “I wasn’t really aware that I had neighbors over there.” He tried to shift his position on the ladder but his movement was limited and shifting his legs only left his throbbing manhood even more exposed. He glanced back at her.

Tania continued to grin, the pink of her tongue darting out to lick at her lips suggestively. She was either deliberately teasing him, or she was the most innocently sexual girl he had ever seen. The wildly erotic dreams he had of her the night before had clearly affected him, and his every impression of her since first seeing her this morning had sent resurgent life to his raging hard-on. But it wasn’t only that. His entire body was trembling, vibrating with a piqued interest; his thoughts were streaming so quickly that he tried to latch onto something more than mere small talk. He needed to seize something real.

“So, um … in the interest of being neighborly and all … would you want to do something … sometime?” Frankie Joe asked. He rarely met someone like this. Hell, I never meet girls like this! Oh, there had been a couple in recent memory, a pretty daughter or two of a rich client of his landscaping business who had flashed him a flirtatious eye, but they were obviously unattainable. He wasn’t the rich smart successful man that girls like this usually went for; he was average and plain speaking and hard working. But he could sense deep in his gut that he wanted to make something happen with this divinely seductive creature.

“What do you have in mind?” Tania asked.

Frankie Joe couldn’t discern her mood or her motive, in fact, he had been fumbling around in the dark ever since she had approached him, but he grabbed for the next sensible thought that flew through his mind.

“Um, maybe … maybe meet for coffee sometime?”

Tania pursed her lips and tilted her head slightly to one side, her thumbs still hooked into her shorts, her hip now jutting out to the side, the rosy shadows of her nipples winking at him tantalizingly as she arched her back and gazed up at him.

“The Tuscan Café in town makes one helluva latte,” Frankie Joe offered. “Or cappuccino … or whatever you like …”

Did I babble on too long? Say too much? Not say enough? He bit his lower lip, insulating himself against defeat. He sighed deeply. Even if she turned him down flat, he had tried, maybe not his best attempt, but at least he had given it a shot.

 

[Original_Cyn2]

Tania

She had a tough time not licking her lips in response to the eye candy in front of her. Did he do it on purpose, she wondered and then laughed silently at herself. His hard, tanned body was a delight to watch, the muscles of his belly rippling as her eyes moved over it. For one brief moment, as her eyes dipped lower and took in his rampant arousal, she found herself stunned. By her own eager reaction as well as his. Yummm….

Delighted, she looped her thumbs through her shorts, tugging them lower on her hips and feeling his gaze like a caress, stroking a gentle ache that began at each eager nipple and descended, a warm flame, to her belly. She bit her lip gently, enjoying his antics on the ladder, a soft grin teasing the corners of her mouth irrepressibly as she listened to his small talk, nodding seriously as her imagination played other games.

“What did you have in mind?” She listened as he asked her out, her response surprising her at its meek tone. What she’d really wanted to do was climb that ladder, slowly, feeling each supple movement taunt the heat inside her. To press her lips to one thigh and feel the muscles quiver. To run her fingertip up beneath the shorts that gaped so relentlessly until she could feel the tension like a live wire within him. To ease her cheek up over that delicious bulge that beckoned… to hear him moan….

Reluctantly, she shook the daydream off in surprise as its focus came scampering down the ladder like a chipmunk, a rather harried look on his face, eyes wide. Without realizing it, she’d walked those three steps forward, her fingertips resting lightly on the ladder, one foot poised lightly upon it.

He’d come down practically in her arms, his feet slipping from the last rung, one knee slipping between hers, inches from the heat that throbbed between them. She bit back a gasp of pleasure, a wicked gleam in her eyes as she pressed closer, feeling her breasts slide lightly against a well muscled forearm with dazzling results.

“I think….”gazing up at him with an charming smile and a brief pause, reading his body’s response in the depths of his eyes and reveling in the tension filled pause, “I’d like that.”

 

[Miltone]

Frankie Joe Galway

Tania’s words played on Frankie Joe like an untamed feral melody, lighting a savage flame that leapt up from his loins and was fanned by the sultry presence of her body next to his. His pulse was racing far beyond the ability of his wits to keep up. As Tania had passed through the opening in the fence he had descended the ladder almost stumbling against her. She stood now beside the ladder, one long shapely leg raised up, her foot resting on the lowest rung. The throbbing of his arousal made Frankie Joe painfully aware of her nearness, of her lush body still revealed by the transparency of her dampened t-shirt. He was also aware of her eyes traveling over his naked torso, no doubt spying the fine sawdust of his tree-pruning clinging to his sweaty body. My, god! No wonder she's smiling, I must look like a filthy bum! Then her eyes lifted up to his, large and misty, a deep liquid green that drew him in to her.

“Um … that’s … that’s great,” he finally answered, feeling the excitement welling up inside him. “How about this afternoon? I’ve got just a little more to finish up here.”

“That’s all right,” she purred softly. “I’m in no hurry.”

“Yeah, right,” Frankie Joe replied hurriedly, but then paused for a moment, not wishing to appear too anxious or eager. “Neither am I. No hurries, no worries, right?”

“Something like that,” she replied. Her lips curled into a warm and amused smile as he body swayed gently side to side, the lush curves of her breasts bumping against his arm. “Besides, I can see that you need a good shower … and I have to get out of these wet things.”

Her hand reached out to him, gliding up gently and curiously over his stomach and chest. Startled by her forwardness, Frankie felt his body quiver at the light delicacy of her touch. Her fingertips found his nipples taut and erect as they combed through the damp sawdust clinging to his skin. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? Surely she could feel his raging pulse as her palm flattened against his chest. With every quick beat of his heart his manhood throbbed urgently. There was something incredibly erotic about her, the look of her, the scent of her, the warmth radiating from her body, and the caressing touch of her hand.

Had she been just another girl he had stumbled upon at O’Toole’s smoky pub on a late Friday night he would instantly know what to do. At this moment that part of his nature wanted to scoop Tania up and take her right there in the broad daylight of a Sunday afternoon. But this girl was completely different from the common barflies he normally encountered, so he took a deep breath and held onto his reserve.

“How … how’s four o’clock at the café sound?” Frankie Joe asked.

She nibbled on her bottom lip.

“Perfect.”

There was a flirty mischievous cant to her stance as her hand fell away from him and she backed up a step or two and turned to walk away. Frankie Joe’s eyes followed her closely as she walked back toward her apartment building. Was that a peek back at her freshly washed and sparkling yellow sportscar, or was that a glimpse to see if I was still checking her out? Was that the natural sway of her ass as she sauntered across the parking lot or was she doing that because she knew I was watching?

Frankie Joe fumbled with the ladder as he brought it down from the maple tree. His raging erection rubbed against the stiff khaki of his shorts. “For Christ’s sake!” he said out loud. “This is fucking ridiculous!” He had never felt so turned on, so attuned to the seductive nature of this girl. Was this a game, or is this the real thing? He glanced over to savor the last glimpse of Tania before she disappeared inside the apartment building.

As he began to work on trimming the shrubs along the back fence, Frankie Joe thought about the girl, replaying each glimpse of her and each word they exchanged. Pausing for a moment, he glanced up at her apartment building and saw Tania standing at her patio railing, looking off into the distance. Then she suddenly turned and stepped toward the open patio door. In a simple quick motion she whipped her t-shirt up and off over her head and darted inside her apartment.

Frankie Joe groaned. He attacked the hedges with a fury that later forced him later to spend some time reshaping the shrubs so that they matched up evenly. It was just after three when he put the last of his tools away and went inside to shower. He kicked off his shorts and tumbled into the bathroom to turn on the shower. He grinned sheepishly at the lingering evidence of his earlier arousal. As he stood under the blast of the showerhead washing his body, he couldn’t get the girl out of his mind. Just touching himself sent another wave of arousal through his body. He was seized by the thought of her sharing the shower with him, their naked bodies wet and needy, her back pressed against the tile wall, her arms around his shoulders, and her legs wrapped around his hips as he took her forcefully, completely.

Then he shook off the thought. Maybe this is all in my head. Maybe she isn’t that kind of girl. Maybe I should relax and not bring any expectations along. It’s just a date for coffee. Just a date … He kept replaying those words in his mind over and over. It’s just a date … just a date …