Copyright © Nicole Austin, 2017
All Rights Reserved
Note: Nicole Austin’s Books are intended for those readers 18 years old or older.
With a deep breath of the salty air, my tension eased. Miles of clear blue sky kissing tropical green waters replenished my weary soul. Being outside at two o’clock in the afternoon on a workday stripped down to my lacy underwear had nothing to do with trying to catch the hot young guys next door in the act of nude sunbathing.
Lord knows I’d tried to get a look at what brought on the nightly serenade of moans, grunts and slapping flesh emanating from their deck. I never caught sight of pale butt cheeks in the moonlight, so they had to be out sunning themselves, naked, during the day. Solid deductive reasoning, right?
And what I wouldn’t give to see that after too many nights alone in bed listening to them fuck. My active mind had no trouble filling in the blanks, supplying wicked visions of glorious toned and tanned male flesh as I listened to the sounds of passion. My body ached, longing to join them, but until now, I’d remained safely tucked away in my house to avoid humiliation. They wouldn’t want an older woman. Not a tired, stressed-out one who’d spent her life following intellectual pursuits.
What a marvelous fantasy though. Peeping Jane and the three studs.
“Fuck me harder.”
The masculine groan sent a shaft of white-hot desire straight from my scalp to my toes, which curled against the hard tile. They were outside, the three sex gods, and they weren’t saving the fun and games for the cover of darkness. And if I could just squeeze my ass an inch farther into the damn corner and lean out over the edge a little more, I’d get to do more than listen. Almost there.
Rough stucco scraped against a swollen nipple and bolts of pleasure-pain zinged through my abdomen to pulse along my erect clit. The sounds they made alone were enough to get me wet and ready. The idea of actually watching them fuck drove me to desperation. Hence the high-elevation contortionists act, all in an attempt to witness their activities.
“That’s it. Fuck me good.”
Yes, please. Fuck him good and let me see, damn it!
Not wanting to be overanxious, I forced my gaze to glide over the coast and allowed anticipation to build before settling my attention on the wooden deck below with a sharp inhalation.
Holy shit! The view was much different than my fantasies.
Slapping a trembling hand over my mouth to prevent any further exclamations of joy from escaping, I stared in awe. Wouldn’t do to call attention to myself. Not when they were finally revealed in all their glory. If they heard me and moved the fun indoors it would be a crying damn shame.
There were no women joining the guys for sex, at least not right then. Nope, just lots of naked male flesh. My starved eyes feasted on the three hot men who’d abandoned themselves to a wild afternoon of fucking.
Praise the Lord and pass the gravy. The Hallelujah Chorus echoed in my head as I looked down on them. What a heathen. I’m going to Hell on the express train. There’s a first-class ticket for the front row with my name engraved on it in bold red letters just waiting for me to show up. Considering that line of reasoning, I figured that I might as well have fun and enjoy the trip.
My imagination had not come close to doing justice to their hedonistic display, which took my breath away. Blood pounded through my veins. My body temperature rose and a surge of cream dampened my panties. I brought my hands to my breasts, rubbed my palms over my tightly puckered nipples. Within seconds, I was on fire, burning up with sexual energy. The heat hit me so hard that sweat trickled down my spine. My clit swelled, throbbed, begged for stimulation. Not one to deny my own pleasure, after shifting my butt up against the railing, I slid a hand over my flat tummy and beneath the elastic edge of my panties.
Fuck, the guys got me so hot! In mere seconds they took me from tingles of arousal to volcanic meltdown.
The blond’s body glistened with sweat. Golden skin rippled with the flex and play of powerful muscles along more than six feet of gorgeous, primal, dominant male in rut. His firm ass cheeks constricted in the most delightful way as he drilled into the body caged beneath him. And I’d been right. There wasn’t one tan line to be seen on his perfect bod.
The choir in my head launched into a full-out Baptist revival, clapping and shouting praise for the bountiful feast laid out at my feet. A-amen, aw-men…thank the gods for men!
What would I have to do to get some of that?