“I’ve got what you’re looking for,” reads the note I’ve found taped to my mailbox. There’s an address, and a little smiley face, too. Whoever wrote it is referring, I assume, to my mailbox key, which has gone missing.
The address belongs to a house half a block away. I stroll over there, taking it easy in the fierce heat. It’s nearly 100 degrees already, though it’s just noon. The sun glares relentlessly from a cloudless blue sky.
I knock on the front door. “Just a minute,” comes a woman’s voice. After a lengthy wait the door opens, and I forget all about the mailbox key.
She is blonde, pretty, and very wet. Water glistens all over her sun-kissed skin, a lot of which is showing. The red bikini that clings to her curves barely hides the essentials. A beach towel dangles from her hand like an afterthought. She makes no attempt to dry herself or shield her exuberant near-nakedness from my gaze.
“Yes?” There’s a teasing gleam in her hazel eyes. I sense something that I’ve always been highly attuned to: the bi-curiosity of a not-quite-straight girl.
I am captivated.
“Dios mio,” I mutter under my breath. “Estas buena.”
“I was in the pool, cooling off,” she says, standing there in her hot-as-hell bikini and her deep golden tan. She looks me over, the cheeky girl, and her flirty smile widens.
That’s when it dawns on me that she’s the cute femme with the bouncy blonde ponytail whom I’ve seen around lately, jogging or riding her bike in tight shorts and midriff-baring tops. She always waves when she sees me and offers a grin that seems a bit sly.
Right now, she’s enjoying the way I’m looking at her. What’s a queer Latina to do? As the electricity crackles between us, I remember the note and hold it up. “You, uh — you have my key?”
Her eyes flick to the note. “Yup. Come on in. I’m Jodie.”
She turns away from the door, revealing her ass in a thong bottom, and I follow her inside. Her perky butt sways back and forth as she strides into her kitchen. Jesucristo, it’s only been two minutes and I’m all hot for this girl.
She points to my key on the counter, then says, “I didn’t get your name.”
She smiles. “Well, Sofia, since you’re here, I wonder if you’d do me a favor.”
I try to play it cool. “One good deed deserves another.”
“I’ve been outside all morning. I could use some after-sun lotion on my back.”
“Well then,” I declare, “let’s take care of that.”
She bites her lower lip like a teasing coquette and goes to the sliding glass door that leads to her backyard. I follow her outside.
The pool is small but inviting, framed by agave plants and a couple of palms. Jodie struts through this private oasis to a chaise longue near the pool’s edge. She lowers the backrest so it’s flat, spreads her towel on it, and lays face down. There’s a bottle of aloe vera lotion within her reach; she hands it to me.
“Thanks for lending a hand,” she says, pulling her flaxen hair aside to expose the bikini strings knotted at her neck. “Untie me?”
I sit on the edge of the chaise, pull the knot loose, and let the strings fall away, revealing a faint white tan line. Interesting. My fingertips move lower and brush the strings that cross the middle of her slender, golden back.
I untie the strings and lay them aside, exposing another, starker tan line. It’s sharply defined and quite eye-catching. “Damn, girl. Your skin is almost as dark as mine,” I hear myself say.
Jodie laughs. “I’ve worked hard on this tan.”
I squirt a stream of cool lotion between her shoulder blades and begin massaging it into her sun-browned flesh. As my hands move lower, making her whole back shiny, I can feel her body responding to my touch. When my fingers brush the top of her thong, her tremors of excitement spike. If I keep moving south, there’s no telling what might happen.
“Well, I think we’ve taken care of your back,” I say. My gaze shifts to Jodie’s ass.
She supplies an answer to my unspoken question. “You can keep going. I mean, if you want.”
My hands shake a little as I spread the gooey stuff on the supple, tanned globes of her posterior.
Jodie reaches for the bikini strings at her right hip. “Might as well get these out of the way, too. I mean” — she titters girlishly — “it’s not like this swimsuit is really covering anything.” Her fingers pull the strings loose, and I’m staring at another well-defined tan line, this one arcing beautifully over her hip.
“I’ll do this one for you,” I say, reaching for the knot at her left hip. When that one is undone too, Jodie lifts her butt off the towel and the thong drops from her body. The ghost of the sexy garment is imprinted on her ass like a pale tattoo.
“Cool tan lines,” is all I can think to say. But that doesn’t do them justice.
She lies prostrate again, but not before the lips of her sex, smooth as butter, flash briefly in the sunlight. The evidence of her arousal gleams wetly between her labia.
My well-lubed hands knead her fleshy cheeks and coat them with lotion. Jodie quivers when she feels my fingertips graze the shadowy area in between, close to her most sensitive spots. I don’t linger there, not yet. Instead I rub small circles into her creamy upper thighs, then slide my greased palms down the smoothness of her legs. The tension builds toward a breaking point when I move upward again. I can feel the tremors of Jodie’s unmistakable desire.
“Finished,” I say, wiping my hands dry on the edge of Jodie’s towel. It’s now or never, so I add: “Unless there’s anywhere else you’d like some attention.”
She raises her hips a little and widens the space between her knees. The invitation is obvious, but just in case, she reaches back for my hand and brings it to her pussy. “Here,” she purrs. “I need some attention here.”
My fingers dip into her syrupy groove.
“You’ve got me so turned on right now, I can hardly stand it,” she blurts. “Feel how wet I am?”
I slide a finger inside her. The velvety walls of her channel clasp my digit like a glove. I bring my thumb to bear on her clitoris and rub it lightly, making Jodie moan. She gives a little shriek of delight when I push a second finger inside her.
“Oh fuck, yes,” she cries. “Fuck fuck fuck!”
Her asshole looks so cute that I can’t resist pressing my thumb there. Jody reacts with a start and rises up onto her hands and knees. “I like that,” she says. “Put it inside.” She lowers her face and shoulders to the towel but keeps her ass up high.
Kneeling behind her, I work my thumb gently into her derriere and hear her sigh with satisfaction. Then I bend low, press my mouth to her slit and run my tongue up and down the crevasse. Soon I’m flicking my tongue aggressively across her clit.
“I’ve wanted you all summer,” Jodie announces, her voice tremulous between gasps of pleasure. “I’ve seen you around and I’ve fantasized about you…”
Her voice dissolves into a moan. I can feel her asshole gripping and releasing my thumb as her climax builds. When I suck her clit against my teeth, Jodie nearly comes unglued. Spasms of bliss shake her body and she cries out loudly. If any of her neighbors are around, they are certainly getting an earful.
“I’m coming!” she hisses, which is obvious, but a few seconds later she tenses up and comes even harder. The climax wracks her body and makes the chaise skitter an inch closer to the pool’s edge. I keep my mouth on her and she comes a third time before the rolling thunder finally subsides.
“Wow,” she mutters at last, catching her breath. I’m thinking the same thing. I’ve never been with a multi-orgasmic girl before.
Jodie sits up and faces me, letting her bikini top fall to the ground. Her unfettered breasts are buoyant and attractively marked with the tan lines of her bikini top’s twin triangles. My gaze wanders down her smooth brown belly to her navel, and below that, to the tiny patch of groomed pubes framed inside another triangle of pale-white skin.
She reaches for me; our lips meet. Her hands start to pull my shirt up. I help her take it off, and since I don’t wear a bra, Jodie’s hands are quickly on my breasts. She rubs her palms over my nipples, sparking tingles of sensation.
Breaking off the kiss, she looks at me with the most lascivious of intentions and pats the chaise longue. “Lie back,” she says.
I kick off my flip-flops and stretch out, eyes half-closed to the blazing sun. Jodie pulls my shorts and undies down over my feet and tosses them aside. Then she runs confident fingers through my dark bush, making me shiver despite the intense heat. Placing her hands on my knees, she pushes my legs apart and leans in to plant a kiss on my vagina. I’m ready to move past playful, but then I get what I crave as she darts her tongue inside me.
This is not, I surmise, a new experience for her. “You’ve done this before.”
“Only once,” she admits.
She turns her beautiful eyes up to my face, taking in my reaction as she sucks my clit. I am an open book; my excitement and lust are plain for her to see. The feeling of her lips on my labia and her tongue snaking its way inside is delicious; I moan and grab her hair.
She prods my swollen clit with lightning-quick flicks of her tongue, then sucks it between her lips. All the while I feel her breath down there like a sultry summer breeze. She breaks off suddenly and, with a saucy smile on her face, joins me on the chaise to interlock her legs with mine. The sensation of our two clefts kissing makes us both gasp. We begin to thrust against one another, rubbing and grinding with frantic urgency. Our moans grow louder, and the chaise longue speaks up too, creaking in protest at our strident shenanigans.
I sit up straighter. Jodie lifts her butt off the chaise to drive herself against me. My clit sparks hotly as we mash and grind together in a slippery collision of sensitive flesh. Reaching down, I spread my labia to put my clit in better contact with her. Immediately, the sublime sensations triple in intensity. Jodie’s eyes close; her moans rise in pitch. The feeling is almost too powerful, but neither of us can stop; we are caught in the throes of a savage lust that we never want to end.
She comes first, her lithe frame tightening and shuddering with the force of another chain of orgasms. She throws her head back and stares up at the sky, fingers digging into my arms. Her wild thrashes against my clit finally send me over the precipice, too. I clamp my thighs tightly against hers and lose myself in the most explosive release I’ve had in a long while.
At last we recline in each other’s arms. Jodie kisses me with a tenderness that surprises me.
“Thanks for coming over for your key,” she whispers in my ear.
When I leave her house a little while later, there is a new spring in my step. I don’t even notice the searing heat of the afternoon anymore. In fact, I’m about halfway home when I realize that I’ve left my mailbox key behind.
Oh well, I think, resuming my steps homeward. That just means I’ll be going back to her place soon.