In Leanne’s garden

I learned yesterday that shared manual labor can build some serious sexual tension. My friend Leanne asked me to help her build a few raised beds in her garden, and the two of us worked all day in her balmy backyard. Prior to yesterday, she and I had only flirted and shared one sloppy drunk kiss after a night at the bar, but after six hours of sweaty, dirty work, we both wanted more.

I arrived at about 10am to find her dressed in busted-ass jeans and a sweatshirt, making herself a smoothie for breakfast.

“Thanks so much for coming over, dude,” she said in her slow North Carolina drawl. “I’ll show you the garden.”

We walked to the backyard. She had her long brunette hair tied up in a messy bun on top of her head, and I watched the stray strands wisp behind her in the morning sun. She’s one of those beautiful girls that looks sexy no matter what she’s wearing. It’s effortless, and it shines through sweatshirts and sundresses alike.

We talked about the plan for her garden, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off her lively, animated mouth. Her almond-shaped deep brown eyes laughed along with her lips as we joked. I pretty much missed the plan.

She finished her smoothie and we set to it. The work was simple enough; we’d build three raised beds for veggies and fill them with soil and compost.

As noon approached, the sun crept into her backyard and started to warm things up. It had rained hard the night before (that’s March in the NW for you) and the air quickly became balmy. The two of us toiled in the mossy, leafy enclosure of her garden, shovelling heavy dirt to the side. A thin film of sweat and smeared dirt covered our bodies.

Leanne wiped her forehead and disappeared into the house. She emerged a minute later with two mason jars filled with cold water. It was so good I almost didn’t notice that she’d taken off her sweatshirt, and was now wearing only a thin gray deep-v tshirt.

“Drink up,” she said. “I don’t want you collapsing out here.” Her breasts stood out impressively from her torso under the thin cotton. They looked so firm and buoyant for their size, and as she bent to set down her jar, I was allowed a look through her swaying cleavage to her smooth stomach.

Leanne is a curvy girl, without being the least bit pudgy. Her hips are wide, her butt is big, and her stomach has a smooth graceful curve to it. Her skin is taut and firm. When she stretches into one of her ambiguously suggestive yoga poses, her back arches like a cat. I’ve never seen another girl quite like her, and I find her body both beautiful and beguiling.

Things on display

It was the end of July, and the southern California heat was proving to be too much for Will. Since the semester ended, he had stayed in touch with a girl from his Psych class named Angie who he’d messed around with a few times. She lived in Portland, and extended an open invitation to come stay with her family for a weekend over the summer. He decided to take her up on the offer.

Will arrived at the Amtrak station to find Angie waiting with her mother. From across the station, Angie’s mother looked like a taller replica of her daughter. They were both brunette and athletic, toned yet curvaceous. He found himself attracted to Angie’s mother in the same way he was attracted to Angie, as if they were the same person. Angie hugged Will and introduced him to her mom, Karen. They all piled into a new-looking Volvo and drove off.

Back at Angie’s house, she introduced Will to her father, Tom. They shook hands. The house was big for three people, cleverly decorated, and furnished in 60s mod. Strange town, Will thought.

“Tomorrow we can go to the beach with my family,” Angie said, after dinner. “I think you’ll like it.”

From the moment Will had seen Angie that afternoon he wanted her. He remembered clearly what her body looked like naked, and he wanted to feel her hands wrapped around his erection again, he wanted to take her rosy nipples into his mouth, and he wanted to watch her sweet face look up at him as she sucked him. He was also turned on by how much Karen looked like her daughter. Their voices even sounded the same.

That night, after Angie playfully denied his quiet advancements in her bedroom, Will snuck into the bathroom and silently masturbated to the thought of Angie’s soft mouth and her mother’s watching eyes. He imagined the two of them nude, side by side, mirroring one another’s movements as they caressed their soft breasts and twirled their matching nipples. As he came, he imaged them both cooing soft words in unison.

A word of encouragement

“Take off your clothes,” she said after letting me in. We’d never met, but for the last week we had been discussing plans for today over email.

I did as I was told, as I had agreed to do, and she watched. She watched as I pulled my shirt up over my head, and as I stepped out of my jeans.

“Now the rest,” she said, pointing to my boxers. Something stirred in there as she pointed, but I didn’t begin to harden. I was still a bit nervous for that. Nonetheless, I tossed off my boxers and stood before her completely nude. I watched the way she looked me up and down like I was a statue that brought her pleasure. “Now go sit on the couch.”

She sat across the room from me on a wooden chair, legs crossed, eyebrow cocked. I took the opportunity to look her — my boss for the time being — up and down as well. She was older than me by quite a bit, tall and voluptuous. She wore an airy lavender skirt and a creamy light blouse, unbuttoned enough to give me lovely glimpses of her deep cleavage as she shifted.

“Now,” she said, as if she had to ponder what to say next, as if we hadn’t already decided that. “Let’s see you get all nice and hard.”

I sat back on the couch and tried to relax, tried to calm my heart by telling myself this was what I wanted, what I had asked for (indeed, it was), so I looked at her as I took my soft penis in my hand and began to stroke its surface. I caressed my balls with the other hand. Although I enjoyed the sensations, and was very aroused by her presence, I got no reaction from my penis.

A few minutes of this and she cleared her throat. “Maybe you need a little help,” she said, not at all as a question. She unbuttoned the remaining buttons of her blouse and parted the fabric, revealing to me her large breasts cupped rather nobly in an impressive push-up bra.

“That helps,” I said quietly as I resumed stroking my now growing penis. As she squeezed and jiggled her confined breasts for me I continued to grow, until at last I sat proudly before her with a solid erection. The smirk crossing her lips told me she liked what she saw.

“Now let’s see you jerk that thing off.”

Her vengeful hands

The cafe had closed twenty minutes ago and M was nearly done cleaning up. He was alone in the darkened shop, thinking about the day’s events. One of his coworkers, a girl about five years older, had been especially flirtatious, and M found himself starting to stiffen thinking about her as he cleaned the espresso machine.

She had touched him at every opportunity it seemed, and had at one point rubbed her breasts against his shoulders as she squeezed past him. He was imagining the feeling of her breasts against his body — he could remember each individually — which made him continue to stiffen under his apron. The situation presented only one problem: M shared a small studio apartment with a friend, and knew that once he got home there would be no privacy. He really needed to get himself off though. Glancing toward the bathroom, he decided quickly to masturbate before leaving work.

Once he finished his work, M stepped into the men’s bathroom and closed the door behind him. As he unzipped and pulled down his pants, his erection sprung out readily. Soon, he was working into a steady rhythm, thinking about the girl and her firm, generously pert tits. It felt good to rub his cock after a long day of sexual frustration. He grunted and closed his eyes, his coworker dancing topless against his eyelids.

Just as the first thoughts of orgasm entered his mind, the door sprung open, and M found himself face to face with Irma, the generously kind, attractive woman who cleaned the floors and linens at night.

Crimson and clover

My new housemate is a bohemian by her own admission. And you all know how I feel about bohemians. She sunbathes in our backyard naked. That kind of bohemian.

Since I moved in, Bri’s taken me to two hot springs and a nude beach, so we’ve grown accustomed to being naked around each other. Her level of comfort with her body is contagious, it seems. Some curvy girls spend their days pining for a different shape, but Bri treats her hips like bragging rights and her tits like prizes hard-won.

A few days ago I came home from work to Bri wrestling with a bottle of wine, trying to get it open. Between the two of us, we managed to uncork the thing, and she insisted that I have a glass with her. Bri spends many an evening watching movies, drinking red wine, and every time I walk in on her we talk about sharing a bottle sometime. Tonight’s the night, she said.

I followed her into the living room, watching her skirt pitch and buck as her ass jiggled. Her ass makes me think of pears. We sat on the couch and let the spicy crimson wine push us down into the cushions. Bri looked relaxed, reclining on the couch, her chin nearly tucked in her soft cleavage.

“I’ve been so horny today,” she said, giggling self consciously after she said it. “I don’t even know why.”

“I’d take it as a sign if I were you,” I said. “A subtle signal from you body that it’s time to get off.”

“Yeah, and wine just makes me hornier. The warmth keeps going after it reaches my stomach and ends up in my pussy. I feel warm and horny and good.”

Beautiful bohemian, part two

Surely you remember Renee? Yes, of course you do.

Well, she called me last week and told me to drop by after work. So I did. I could read her tone clearly over the phone, and I knew she wanted sex, so I wasn’t quite surprised when she pulled me through the door of her apartment and whispered in my ear, “Let’s get each other off.”

She’d said these words to me before, and I knew they meant exactly what one would think they meant. We’d get each other off.

She was playing a Beach House record on her vintage stereo, and the bending hazy tones sounded as warm as Renee’s breath against my neck. She stepped back from me and gave me a smile sexy enough to convince me to do anything. The apartment was dark, but her hair was lit up from behind by the window. “I’m so glad you came over,” she said low and sultry, unbuttoning the top two buttons of her thin flowery dress. I could see down into her deep soft cleavage as she pulled the fabric back slightly.

When I took a step towards her, she snared me around the waist and pulled my body against hers. Our mouths met in the familiar hungry way they do, and she pressed her breasts against my chest, knowing how much that turns me on. The honey evening sun drizzled through the window on our cheeks and through her hair as our tongues entwined wetly. Renee has real strength when she’s horny (you should feel her thrash when she cums), and she squeezed my arm so hard it hurt. I like when she gets that way, though.

“Take off my clothes and we’ll make out,” she said. There was no arguing, so I fumbled with the buttons down the front of her dress. She counted them as I went. The dress slid off her shoulders down to the floor and she pushed me back onto her couch, where she straddled me. Her full breasts were spilling out the top of her black pushup bra, and she wore a pair of thin black tights over her panties. I admired the way the tights rode up higher than her panties, covering her stomach and creating a small fold where the thin tight elastic band encircled her.

A generous older woman

Blessed are those warm, friendly older women who generously use their bodies to comfort young men. Who have outgrown modesty and bashfulness and use their ample endowments for the betterment of young manhood. Selfless, they are.

B fell under the graces of such a woman once. She helped him through a hard time, her gentle hands holding him, her billowing warm bosom resting on his chest. She watched him satisfy himself the way a young man sometimes must, and she did not protest when he reached a resolution to his problems all over her clean linens.

It was late fall and B was in the middle of his third semester of college. The weather was gray and damp and B found himself getting depressed. His good friend and classmate Josh lived with his family in a town nearby, and B asked if he could stay there for a weekend. Josh’s mother was always very kind to B, and her warmth made him feel good inside.

When B showed up at their door with his duffel filled with clothes, Josh’s mother, Evelyn, answered and hugged him tight. She was a good looking woman, her body toned from religiously performed pilates, her breasts large and pendulous. She pressed her breasts against B’s chest and squeezed him. “Josh told me you were having a rough week,” she said. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you feeling better.

After a hot dinner and a conversation around the fireplace, B tucked himself into the big, pillow top guest bed. He slept better than he had in weeks. He awoke in the golden autumn morning light to the creaking of his door. Evelyn peeked around the door, and seeing that he was awake , shut is softly behind her and padded across the wood floor and sat on the edge of the bed. She was wearing her pilates outfit — thin brown sweatpants and a long sleeved white t-shirt — and to B she looked beautiful and inviting.

“How did you sleep?” She asked, smiling down at him in the sun. He told her he slept better than he had in weeks. “That’s wonderful,” she said softly, stroking his cheek. “Do you want me to rub your back before you get up?” B said that would be nice and rolled over onto his stomach as Evelyn pulled down the warm blankets and clean white sheets. He slept only in a pair of boxers, but something about Evelyn’s warmth made him not worry about it.

Beautiful bohemian, or Renee in a thin white blouse and a homemade skirt

I rang the buzzer at Renee’s apartment and she let me in. I knew she’d be home working, and I wanted to see her. I rang the bell with every intention of interrupting her work. She buzzed me in and opened the door to her place on the third floor. “What a nice surprise,” she said, giving me the dozy smile I think about sometimes while I masturbate. “What brings you to this neighborhood?”

“Just wanted to see if I could make you a pot of tea,” I said. This wasn’t a secret euphemism for anything, but I thought it was appropriately coy. She laughed and pulled me through the door.

I did make her a pot of tea, but we didn’t drink it. Per our occasional routine we raised our eyebrows at each other and scooted closer together on her couch, pretending to be shy. I pretended to be shy to hide that I was a little shy; Renee is exceedingly beautiful, and even though we’ve slept together sporadically for a long time, and have known each other for longer, her general gorgeousness intimidates me.

Tracing my hand up from her knee, over her thin homemade skirt, I crossed her pleasantly round tummy to her breasts. They’re good breasts, medium and firm, enshrouded today only in a loose white blouse. Renee’s a bit of a bohemian, and I like that. We kissed, softly at first, and then she started to push back in the hungry way she does. “Oh my god,” she mumbled through kisses. “You just reminded me that this is exactly what I needed today.” She climbed on top of me.

While we devoured each other’s lips, I continued to explore her breasts through her thin shirt. Her nipples were hard now and I pinched them softly. She responded by thrusting her hips toward me, rubbing the inside of her thigh against my growing erection. When she reached down and wrapped her fingers around the stiffness through my jeans, she took in a breath through her teeth and closed her eyes. I love when she does that. She let out the breath as a deep groan.

“You want my cock?” I asked in her ear. With her usual confidence, she kneeled down in front of the couch, stood me up, and whipped off my belt. Once she had me naked from the waist down she gripped my cock and spit on it.

“Who’s gonna stroke for us?”

Bree

B went to his friend John’s house for a sleepover with a few other guys. They were about to graduate from highschool, and John’s house was the best place to drink. Besides, John’s sister and her friends would be back from college this weekend. All the boys agreed that they were unbelievably sexy.

The boys started drinking beers on the basement couch, watching television. John produced a porn DVD, which he popped in. Everyone found this to be an agreeable way to start the evening. The film started, and the five of them watched the big tits bounce around the screen and the long cocks slide in and out of the pussies. After the first cumshot, two of the guys had visible erections.

As John and B began to discuss the relative merits of the stars’ blowjob techniques, they heard footsteps on the stairs. John lunged toward the television, but turned it off too late; the interloper had already guessed at the genre of the video. She was tall, brunette, clothed in Penn State sweatpants and a pink tshirt, and hot as all hell. Her name was Bree and she was home from college with John’s sister, Lisa.

“Are you boys watching porno?” She said sweetly, narrowing her eyes and smirking at the mortified and horny group. She put her hands on her generous hips and pursed her lips into a waiting smirk.

“We were just…” started John weakly.

“Yeah, we’re watching porno,” said Brett with forced confidence. “You wanna watch?”

“I’m not into porno,” Bree said. “But I’ll have a beer.”

Bree sat on the coffee table facing the boys and cracked a beer. “Let’s play a game,” she said. B stared at her, in awe of her confidence, her sexiness, her fantastic college body. He traced the lines of her bra over her big breasts, counted the firm folds in her tummy through her shirt, sized up her thighs.

Hard cocks at the nude beach

Over the summer I made a few trips via ferry out to Gunnison Beach in Jersey. The dunes and wide beaches were a welcome diversion from the sticky hot city. As were the crowds of naked New Yorkers.

My first visit was with a group of friends — which was a great, sunny, nude day — but what I really want to tell you about is my second visit, when I went alone. It was a Saturday and the beach was packed with shiny naked people. People swimming, people sleeping, people kissing, people showing off their bodies, people gazing at others’ bodies. I stripped down right away and took a walk along the beach, to survey the scene.

My end of the beach was a pretty even mix of men and women, and I stopped to watch a group of college girls splash around in the waves. I had to be careful not to watch their bodies too closely, not to notice the way their firm little breasts bounced as they jumped. I didn’t want to get a hardon right there in front of them, a hundred yards away from my clothes, with no way of hiding it. I moved on.

As I moved down the beach the number of men increased, especially the number of groups of men. I started to notice men here and there staring at me, checking me out. They glanced down at my dick and back up at me, smiling. I didn’t mind, so I just kept on walking, my cock and balls swaying softly from side to side.

At some point, the guarded beach ended and the people thinned out. There were only people like me left, strolling. I walked quite a distance down the beach, enjoying the sun and the breeze on my naked body. Enjoying the small thrill of passing people and thinking, I’m naked right now. They’re naked. We just saw each other naked. I thought of what it would be like to pass the same people on the street sometime, and to remember what their bodies looked like without their clothes.

And then I came upon two guys swimming near the shore. They were laughing. One of them stood up and I saw that he had a full erection. I smiled at him and kept walking. I wanted to turn back and watch them. Something about his hardon and the other guy’s presumed hardon was so fascinating to me. It was the juxtaposition of the public beach, the nudity and the arousal I think that got me so curious. I turned around, pretending to look back at something else, and the standing guy called to me, “Hey, you wanna take a swim?”