This story was inspired by the profile of a Literotica site member. If you recognise yourself β let me know!
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You know, when my wife told me she'd let our 'granny flat' to a student she'd met at the beauty salon I was annoyed. I like my privacy, and we didn't need the money. Things didn't improve when you arrived either. You acted like you owned the place β noisy, untidy β I felt as if my territory had been invaded and I resented it. There is no way I thought we would end up fucking. Let's face it, you're a scruffy dresser, and you didn't do much to make me pay attention. One thing I did notice early on though was that you had that hypnotic way of swaying your arse as you walked, like you just walked in from Copacabana beach. Oh, and you had a way of smiling that was somewhere between an invitation and a challenge. Well, okay, if I'm honest, I guess I did start to fantasize about you pretty early on.
The day it all started was so hot, wasn't it? My wife had gone up to London for the day and I had work to do, but in the heavy, humid air it was hard to settle to it. After an hour or so I glanced out the window of my first-floor study, just as you walked into the garden in a tiny bikini. You spread a towel and started to oil yourself with sun-tan lotion. I thought I might as well watch and get some compensation for having you around. Okay, now I know you were playing me like a fish on a line β but I swear I didn't realise it then.
Do you remember how you took so long over the sun tan lotion? You covered your arms, legs and neck, smoothing the oil in with long, caressing movements of your hands. I couldn't take my eyes off you, stiffening in my pants as I watched the way you massaged the oil into your thighs and stomach. It looked like your hand was slipping under the edges of your bikini bottoms on some of the strokes. You were touching the edges of your pussy, weren't you, but I tried to tell myself that perhaps you were just making sure you didn't burn if the material moved a little. I broke away and tried to resume my work, but I couldn't settle and kept glancing out. You seemed restless too in the remorseless heat, tossing and turning on the sunbed. Ten minutes on I gave up. It was far too hot to think straight, and opportunities like this one don't come often. A guy has to try.
I pulled on a pair of bathing trunks and a loose shirt, grabbed two beers, and walked out to you, asking if you needed to cool down. As you sat up, your breasts wobbled heavily inside the flimsy top. You gave me that smile as you caught me glancing down. There was already a sheen of sweat on you from the heat. I passed you the can and watched as you swallowed, letting a few drops spill over your chin, then held the cold can between your breasts. The condensation dripped down in a tiny rivulet, across your taut oily skin.