A Perfect Tan
We
were heading back from the Hamptons after a weekend of sea and sun away from
the city, slowly pushing our way through the evening traffic. It was a typical late
August Sunday evening, and everybody was going back to the city. I was sitting
all alone in the back seat of the BMW 3 series convertible. Joe was driving
and Lyn, his girlfriend, was sitting next to him.
Lyn
took off her sandals and put her legs up with her feet hanging out in the
breeze. She was wearing a light blue sleeveless dress. She had the most
beautiful toes I have ever seen. She usually wears a toe ring, but she removed
it to get a perfect tan. All of her body had a uniform, beautiful bronze color
after three trips to the Hamptons. I never saw her swimming or even taking a
dip in the ocean. The only use of her bikini was to wear it when going to and
from the roof to sunbathe in the nude.
She
was five foot five and slim with a slightly round butt. I adored her medium-sized
breasts and almost always exposed cleavage. I used to watch her through my
window, climbing to the roof in the morning while I was still in bed, her dark
blond hair flying in the light breeze, covering her beautiful face, and raining
down her back. Each step she took caused her breasts to bounce slightly as she
climbed up the white ladder. It was a beautiful morning view.
Once
I went up to hang out with her and Joe, and I was surprised to see her lying down
on her stomach, in the nude. Joe was sitting beside her reading a book and
casually caressing her back with his finger. I immediately ducked and started
climbing down the ladder. I was about to escape unnoticed if it were not for
one of the three beer bottles slipping from me and breaking on the cement below.
Joe came rushing and he saw me picking up the broken glass off the patio. He
didn’t suspect that a few seconds earlier I was looking at his girlfriend’s
bare ass.
“Why
are we stopping?” Lyn said as Joe pulled over on the side of the road.
“I
wanna take a leak.”
“Where?
On the side of the road?”
“Relax.
I will go behind that rock. No one can see me.”
“I
gotta go too,” I said, as I climbed out of the car straight from the back seat.
“Careful,
man, you will scratch it,” Joe shouted at me.
“I
can see your cocks,” Lyn shouted.
“Take
a picture,” Joe replied.
The
whole trip from the East Hamptons to the West Village took us around two hours,
but we were already late. Lyn’s mom was coming in from Connecticut at around
six, and she didn’t have a key to Lyn’s place and it was already six thirty.
“My
mom is gonna kill me.” Lyn snapped, furious at Joe making us late.
“Richard,
can you hand me my bag, please?” Lyn said impatiently, reaching back to me. She
took the bag, opened it, and started looking inside it. “Damn, I can’t find my
key.”
“How
can you find anything inside that bag?” Joe asked sarcastically as he was taking
the last turn, one block away from her apartment.
“I
must have left it at your place. Can we go get it?” Lyn was not asking but
just telling Joe what he should do, as usual, and expecting that he would do it.
“Now
you are telling me that? I can’t make a right turn here. I have to go down three
blocks, and then turn right. It will take us fifteen minutes. Why didn’t you
fucking check before? Why do you keep things till the last minute? You always
do tha…” Joe was going to continue, but Lyn slammed his face with her bag and
told him to shut the fuck up.
We
pulled over next to Lyn’s building. It was a pre-war four-level townhouse,
converted into one bedroom apartments. It had a nice, well maintained, classical
look. In front of it, on the third step, sat Lyn’s mom, wearing a long white
summer dress. She looked beautiful. I only met her once, more than six months
ago during Vanessa’s funeral. We didn’t talk much back then. I guess we
We
were heading back from the Hamptons after a weekend of sea and sun away from
the city, slowly pushing our way through the evening traffic. It was a typical late
August Sunday evening, and everybody was going back to the city. I was sitting
all alone in the back seat of the BMW 3 series convertible. Joe was driving
and Lyn, his girlfriend, was sitting next to him.
Lyn
took off her sandals and put her legs up with her feet hanging out in the
breeze. She was wearing a light blue sleeveless dress. She had the most
beautiful toes I have ever seen. She usually wears a toe ring, but she removed
it to get a perfect tan. All of her body had a uniform, beautiful bronze color
after three trips to the Hamptons. I never saw her swimming or even taking a
dip in the ocean. The only use of her bikini was to wear it when going to and
from the roof to sunbathe in the nude.
She
was five foot five and slim with a slightly round butt. I adored her medium-sized
breasts and almost always exposed cleavage. I used to watch her through my
window, climbing to the roof in the morning while I was still in bed, her dark
blond hair flying in the light breeze, covering her beautiful face, and raining
down her back. Each step she took caused her breasts to bounce slightly as she
climbed up the white ladder. It was a beautiful morning view.
Once
I went up to hang out with her and Joe, and I was surprised to see her lying down
on her stomach, in the nude. Joe was sitting beside her reading a book and
casually caressing her back with his finger. I immediately ducked and started
climbing down the ladder. I was about to escape unnoticed if it were not for
one of the three beer bottles slipping from me and breaking on the cement below.
Joe came rushing and he saw me picking up the broken glass off the patio. He
didn’t suspect that a few seconds earlier I was looking at his girlfriend’s
bare ass.
“Why
are we stopping?” Lyn said as Joe pulled over on the side of the road.
“I
wanna take a leak.”
“Where?
On the side of the road?”
“Relax.
I will go behind that rock. No one can see me.”
“I
gotta go too,” I said, as I climbed out of the car straight from the back seat.
“Careful,
man, you will scratch it,” Joe shouted at me.
“I
can see your cocks,” Lyn shouted.
“Take
a picture,” Joe replied.
The
whole trip from the East Hamptons to the West Village took us around two hours,
but we were already late. Lyn’s mom was coming in from Connecticut at around
six, and she didn’t have a key to Lyn’s place and it was already six thirty.
“My
mom is gonna kill me.” Lyn snapped, furious at Joe making us late.
“Richard,
can you hand me my bag, please?” Lyn said impatiently, reaching back to me. She
took the bag, opened it, and started looking inside it. “Damn, I can’t find my
key.”
“How
can you find anything inside that bag?” Joe asked sarcastically as he was taking
the last turn, one block away from her apartment.
“I
must have left it at your place. Can we go get it?” Lyn was not asking but
just telling Joe what he should do, as usual, and expecting that he would do it.
“Now
you are telling me that? I can’t make a right turn here. I have to go down three
blocks, and then turn right. It will take us fifteen minutes. Why didn’t you
fucking check before? Why do you keep things till the last minute? You always
do tha…” Joe was going to continue, but Lyn slammed his face with her bag and
told him to shut the fuck up.
We
pulled over next to Lyn’s building. It was a pre-war four-level townhouse,
converted into one bedroom apartments. It had a nice, well maintained, classical
look. In front of it, on the third step, sat Lyn’s mom, wearing a long white
summer dress. She looked beautiful. I only met her once, more than six months
ago during Vanessa’s funeral. We didn’t talk much back then. I guess we
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