All That She Desires: The Stranger (5 page)

"That's nice," she would say, smiling up
at him, and then taking it in her mouth.

Fiona realized that she was rubbing herself through
the front of her bikini bottoms, massaging her pussy, and getting herself wet.
She closed her eyes and let the sun shine on her face as she continued her
fantasy, imagining Mike picking her up and carrying her inside the cottage and
making love to her on the big bed in the bedroom.

She opened her eyes and looked around. There were
cottages on both side of hers, but they were separated by trees. Nothing could
be seen through the thick green foliage. Nothing could be seen from below, and
there were no cottages across the lake where weirdo’s with telephoto lenses
might be watching her. There wasn't even a canoe on the lake. Except for Mike,
she had her privacy.

The sun was warm on her skin, and she was warm from
her fantasizing. She lifted one foot up to rest on the edge of the deck chair,
and spreading her legs apart a little, she stopped rubbing herself through the
front of her bikini, and slipped her down the front to touch herself directly.
Adjusting her posture to allow herself better access, she began to tease
herself, rolling a finger around her clitoris with little circular motions,
thinking about the work Mike had done for her the night before. He had licked
well, and when he sucked on her clit, she came so hard... it was sweet relief
from all the darkness she'd been putting herself through. She'd felt so alone
for so long. It was a definite relief to get some personal attention like that.

Her vagina was getting wetter and wetter. She slid a
finger down into her folds to lubricate it, and then moved the slick fingertip
back and forth around her clit. She was getting really worked up, lying out in
the sun in her sexy little bikini. "Masturbating," she whispered to
herself, "masturbating." Why did just saying the word get her so hot?

Enough was enough. She slipped her hand out and got
out of the chair. Mike was still at the side of the cottage, finishing up the
walkway and moving on to the front deck. She went through the cottage and came
out the front.

"Mike," she said. "It's hotter than
hell. Come in and grab a drink. Get out of the sun for a minute."

Mike wiped his forehead with the back of his arm.
"Sure," he said. "Thanks."

He followed her into the kitchen and immediately
washed his hands in the sink. Fiona took a bottle of water out of the fridge.
"I don't have any beer," she said. "Just water and vodka, I'm
afraid. Unless you want a glass of milk."

"The water's good, thanks," he said,
taking the bottle.

"Good," she said. "I need the milk
for cereal anyway. You've been at it for hours. Isn't it hard work?"

He leaned against the counter. "Not really.
It's repetitive, so you get a bit stiff, but it's no big deal."

"Stiff, huh? Like your shoulders and back and
stuff?" She leaned against the counter as well, thrusting out a bare hip.

He nodded, drinking the water.

"You need to relax your stiff muscles. I can
help with that if you want." Without waiting for a reply, she stepped
close to him and kissed him on the mouth. His lips were cool from the water.
She put her hands on him, touching his stomach, and sliding one hand down to
handle the package at the front of his shorts.

He smiled. "You really go for it, don't
you?"

"If you don't like it, tell me to stop,"
she said. He replied by putting his hands on her waist and kissing her.

Fiona slid down to her knees. His shorts had no fly,
so she gripped them firmly by the pantlegs and tugged them down. He was wearing
blue jockeys underneath, and she smiled up at him while she pulled them down as
well.

"Oh, wow," he said. "You're really
incredible, you know that?"

His penis was free now, and she took it in her hand.
"I bet you say that to all the girls who pull your pants down," she
said, and she put a kiss on the head of his cock. He was stiff, and she took
the head in her mouth, sucking gently at it, massaging it with her lips.

Mike braced himself against the counter, leaning
back and groaning as he watched her. She looked up at him with the head in her
mouth. She knew guys liked that. She licked up and down the shaft, and then
took the head into her mouth again, taking his cock as deeply as she could,
until the head reached her throat. She backed off before she gagged, and took
him in again, sliding her hard shaft in and out, making love to him with her
lips.

He moaned as she worked on him, and when he made a
grunting sound, she stopped. "Not yet," she said. "Not too
soon."

Fiona stood up and leaned against the counter next
to him, presenting her gold-wrapped posterior, swaying it back and forth. Mike
didn't hesitate. He dropped to his knees and grabbing the waistband of the
bikini bottom, pulled it down and off of her, revealing her small round ass. He
put his hands on her ankles and directed her to stand with her feet wide apart,
giving him full access to her ass and vagina.

He kissed around the top of the backs of her thighs,
and around her buttocks. She giggled and arched her back, opening herself even
more for him, and he responded by moving his mouth into her crevasse, pushing
his tongue out to lick at her perineum, tracing a line from the bottom of her
vagina to her tightening rear end.

Mike got lower down and licked at her pussy. She
reached down and pulled the hood of her clit forward, exposing the little bud
so he could lick it, and she smiled and moaned. She reached behind her back and
untied her bikini top, letting it fall onto the counter. "Oh, fuck
painting the cottage," she groaned. "I need you with me."

He broke off what he was doing. He rose up, and she
felt him grip her hips to position himself behind her. The head of his cock
rubbed along her wetness, and she pushed back, taking him right in. She was
fully, absolutely ready. Her slick pussy took his length after only a few short
thrusts, and in moments he was sliding in and out as she bent over the kitchen
counter.

Fiona cried out and leaned far over the counter,
arching her ass out toward him, pushing back as he rode rhythmically against
her. The position was perfect, and the head of his cock was bumping against her
g-spot with every stroke. It wasn't long before she was locking up and gasping,
clenching her fists as Mike continued to work.

He could feel her vagina tighten as he continued to
slide in and out of her, and he slowed his pace as her orgasm subsided. She
looked back over her shoulder at him, her eyes half-closed in orgasmic
afterglow. Mike leaned forward to kiss her as he continued to pump. Fiona
lifted her left leg up to the side so her knee was resting on the countertop,
giving him easy and open access to her. He held her by the waist and cried out,
grunting and pumping his hips as he came inside her.

Mike rested his head against her shoulder. They were
both slick with sweat. Fiona giggled. "Did you like that?" she asked.

"Oh God," he moaned. "Where did you
come from? You're like, from another planet or something. I've never met anyone
like you."

"Yeah," she said. "I'm different, all
right." She wiggled her hips and he slid out of her, allowing her to turn
around and wrap her arms around his neck. She kissed him on the mouth, sliding
her tongue against his, kissing deeply like a desperate lover.

They went into the bathroom and crammed themselves
into the little shower stall. Fiona had her shower gel in there, and she soaped
him down, running her hands over his chest and down his stomach, and then
stroking his softened penis as she washed him. She poured some gel into his
hand and turned her back to him, letting him soap up her back and down to her
ass, sliding his hand between her cheeks. He ran his hands all over her,
reaching around to massage her soapy breasts, and down to her pubic area. They
kissed, rinsed, and finally got out.

Mike got his clothes back on and stood in the
kitchen, looking out toward the partly painted front deck.

"Don't even think about going back out there to
paint," Fiona said. She was tying her bikini back in place.

He smiled. "Right. Okay."

"Why are you in such a rush about it anyway?
Have you got other jobs to go do? Do you paint cottages all summer?" She
went to the fridge and opened the door, looking in at her options.

"I told you, I'm not a professional
housepainter," he said. "Steve is paying me as though the job will
take three days. If it takes more than three days, then I'm kind of wasting
time and money. If I take five or six days, then I'm wasting those extra days
that I could be using to work on my own paintings."

"Right," she said. She pulled a bottle of
vodka and a bottle of orange juice out of the fridge, took them over to the
counter, and mixed two tall drinks, light on the vodka, and added lots of ice.
She pulled a bag of chips from the cupboard. "Come on," she said.
"Hang out for a while. I'll let you paint later."

They sat out on the deck and looked out over the
lake. They relaxed and ate chips. Fiona asked him about his life, and got the
full story on his career, his marriage, and now his divorce.

He broke it down pretty simply for her: the way he
saw it, he'd spent four years going to college studying art. After graduating,
he'd picked up a part-time job to pay the bills while he worked on developing
his career as a painter. After a few years he was making some sales from his
art, but hadn't broken through in a major way. His wife, meanwhile, was getting
impatient with what she viewed as a stalled career, and was pressuring him to
start looking for a proper job, something that would give him a real career.

"We ended up having the same fight about my
career every few weeks for a couple of years," he explained. "Pretty
soon the bitterness from those fights just infected everything else, and it all
went sour."

"So she was telling you to give up your dreams
of being an artist and do what? Work in an office or something?"

"That's a simple version, yeah," he said.
"And I can see her side of things. She doesn't want to be poor. And she's
working on her own career, but from her point of view, she's got this husband
who just sits around all the time working on paintings that don't make money.
Not real money."

Fiona held his hand. "She doesn't sound very
supportive. Maybe you're better off."

He shrugged. "Well, she made some good points.
She kept saying that I didn't care about making money, that all I cared about
was art, and that I would be happy being poor my entire life as long as got to
paint. And I think she's probably right. I don't need very much. All I really
care about is being able to create."

Fiona leaned back in her chair. "I am actually
intensely jealous of you," she said. "I mean, you're broke, which
must suck or something, but you actually care about what you're doing, and
that's awesome. Your situation is the exact opposite of mine. I make a whole
bunch of money, but there's absolutely no art in what I do. There's no
creativity. That's why I hate it so much."

Fiona's bag of weed was there, and Mike started
preparing a joint. "I think it's silly to say this, because I know a lot
of people who wish they were in your situation, but can't you quit? Or change
what you're doing somehow? Don't you have any control over your situation at
all?"

"I don't know," she said. "I feel
like I'm an employee in a big corporation. The Fiona Luxe company. But I don't
really run it. I do a lot of work, but so do a lot of other people. The Fiona
Luxe company pays a lot of people. A lot of people make money off me being
Fiona Luxe."

"Do you know what it sounds like to me,"
he said, pausing to light the joint, "It sounds like you fired your
parents as your managers, but you kept the same pattern. Nothing really changed
on your end, except that your mom and dad aren't there. But you still work for
other people, doing what they tell you. You still have no control. Your
management team, or your label, or whatever, is now doing what your parents
used to do."