. 01

WARNING:

The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or reading sex stories upset you, or you are offended by subjects of a sexual nature - do not read any further!

This story is for entertainment only. It contains adult oriented material. This is a work of fiction. The acts and characters contained within are figments of my imagination and have no basis in fact. I do not practice, advocate, condone or encourage acts portrayed here. The characters in the story are entirely fictional. You need to believe that all of the characters are over the age of eighteen.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached.

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Previous: Mr. Marcus's boss's niece accompanies Marcus on a trip downstate to deliver bad news to a customer. Reese gave the customer a blowjob, and was about to demand a fuck from Marcus when Inga showed up. Marcus got just the top of his dick into Inga before she multiple orgasmed. She left, humiliated, while Reese finished the job. Harriett disclosed that her new boss, a woman named Rianne (pronounced Ryan), touched her in inappropriate ways, and pleaded for Mr. Marcus to accompany her on a trip to Nashville and set Rianne straight.

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After the company car was repaired, Reese and I completed our trip back to Chicago. I got a warm kiss goodbye in the company garage before Reese left. "Now that I'm working here, we can see - and do - each other regular."

I'd never given any serious thought to an ongoing affair. The random and frequent one-offs with Annie's friends, affectionate neighbors and willing strangers had kept me sexually satisfied. Did I really want that kind of relationship with Reese, especially given that she was Tashun's niece?

I used the company car to get home, since Harriett had taken our only working vehicle from the company lot. I wondered if the insurance agent had decided between "fix or don't fix" yet. There was one call on the answering machine at home, not from our insurance guy but from Clara across the street. She said she wanted to "introduce me" to one of nieces, coming in to visit the following week, and what day might I be available. "Introduce" was Clara's codeword for "fuck." I erased the message. How many nieces did Clara have, anyway?

The primary purpose for me making the trip to Nashville was to confront Harriett's new boss Ryan (I learned it was spelled Rianne by reading Harriett's notes, scattered on the dining room table) about her sexual approach to my wife. Basically, Harriett wanted me to stop what she considered harassment without getting her fired. Harriett tried to spin it positive for me. "You can get away from the drudgery and put some color in your cheeks." Ah yes, the dull and petty existence of having sex with young women, where the color in my cheeks comes from pumping into their tight pussies until I'm exhausted.

Because of the delay from downstate, packing for Nashville was an immediate priority. I checked the Internet for a weather forecast. Bright and sunny, unseasonably warm. Harriett said we'd be at a waterfront resort. I didn't know of any lakes near Nashville, but took Harriett at her word. To the best of my knowledge, she'd never lied to me. I packed accordingly, including a pair of baggy swim trunks. The tight ones always failed to conceal my dick, especially when I'd get an erection. Around a beach with bikinis and scantily clad women, getting a hard-on was a certainty.

On the plane, I finally read the itinerary Harriett had prepared. Although she and Rianne were meeting in downtown Nashville, family members were directed to Nashville Dunes, a brand new resort built on a man-made lake about an hour out of town. Sitting alone, I began to fantasize about Harriett's old boss Ed and his daughter Erica. I'd fucked her, not only with his permission but with his pleading. The only question remaining was, had he? Erica had been determined and must have gotten him in a compromising position by now. Confronting him just as he got out of the shower? Spilling a quart of milk down the front of his pajamas and then wiping it up with a nearby dishtowel? My mind swam at the possibilities. Too bad they were down in Florida. She would have been a terrific distraction.

After I landed, I shared a shuttle bus with other resort-goers. The landscape was rolling and gorgeous. Just around one of the hills, we arrived at Nashville Dunes. My mind couldn't comprehend how much it must have cost to build the hotel, a massive curving structure, let alone excavate and construct a lake and import sand.

When I tried to check in, the desk clerk told me that I'd have to wait until our entire party arrived. In the meantime, I was offered the use of a room to change clothes and enjoy the facilities as compensation for my inconvenience. While Rianne and Harriett were at their client meeting, I took advantage, changed into my bathing trucks (no, not the octopus ones from Clara!) and perused the pool. Several women looked tempting, but they were all with gentlemen, or at least, male companions.

I opened the gate to the beach, which crawled with locals peddling their cheap merchandise. Evidently, the resort had shared access to the lake itself, which allowed undesired peddlers to hawk their goods legally. As I left the confines of the resort and stepped out onto the sand, a bent gentleman with dreadlocks handed me a coupon. GOOD FOR ONE JETSKI RIDE. I thanked him and sauntered along the beach. Fancy watches for $10 or less, designer bags for $15. Further down the beach was a pier, for the water adventures. Parasailing? No thanks; I'm afraid of heights. Fishing? Boring.

I showed the jet ski pass to several proprietors, but all I got were negative headshakes. Seems the pass was good for a weekend ride, and it was Thursday. Just my luck.

It was the sign that caught my eye, followed immediately by the attire of the owner/operator. PARK N' RIDE, BEST F##KIN' JETSKI RIDE ON THE PIER. She wore an abbreviated park ranger outfit: The hat seemed authentic, from which blonde hair flowed. Her top was a standard off-green shirt, sleeves removed, tied under her breasts, which filled out the shirt nicely. Instead of pants, a short skirt of matching color completed the outfit. No boots or shoes of any kind on nicely shaped legs. She was built well enough to be the lead model in a Playboy feature, "Women of the Park Service." Except, she was only pretending. Mirrored sunglasses hid her eyes from mine. Was she checking out my package?

"What makes your ride so special?" I knew from her sign, but I wanted her to say the obscured word, out loud.

Her head nodded a bit, as if she was scanning me from head to toe. If she checked out my crotch, even the baggy one I wore, she would have seen that I had an erection. Her smile made me suspect she appreciated my physiological response to her exhibition.

"My jet ski is a custom job. No seat. We ride standing up."

The handlebars were mounted higher on her vehicle than the others nearby. There were two places on the floor with straps. One, for the operator, at the far edges of the board. Which meant that she would have her legs spread. The other straps were for the passenger, closer together and immediately behind where the operator would stand. A perfect arrangement for doggie style. How could she get away with such a blatantly suggestive offer? I showed her my free pass.

"That's no good anywhere." She lifted her mirrored sunglasses and took an obvious look at my crotch. I pushed my hips forward as I straightened my posture. She swallowed hard. "Except here. Climb on, Oscar."

So I was getting a complimentary ride because of my Wiener? I could live with that. I hoped she could.

Blondie tossed her hat. It spun around on one of the pier pilings before settling. Two points! She extended her hand. I didn't know if it was for shaking or helping me aboard. "Names Falen."

She turned her back and planted her feet in the outer stirrups. "Your turn. Don't rock the boat."

It wasn't a boat, it was a jet ski, but I understood. I wedged my feet in the rear ones, putting me behind her. Close enough that with no effort at all, our bodies were touching.

"Ready to ride? Hang on."

There were no grips for the passenger. I reached for the only part of the jet ski available - the handlebars, or whatever they're called.

Falen slapped at my hand. "I'm the driver, you're the passenger. Got it? Here we go." She revved the engine, and we took off, perpendicular to the pier, straight out into the lake. I threw my arms around Falen's waist. That made my arms a shelf for her tits and stuck my dick against her ass. With every bump, I either rubbed or poked her with my prick.

"Enjoying the ride?" she asked over her shoulder. "I am."

Sure, just like every other woman who'd sampled my sausage. I looked back towards the pier and shoreline. The sun worshipers were like ants. I couldn't see them, so they couldn't see us. Okay, good a time as any for the promised fucking. I slid one hand down, between her thighs and cupped her mound.

"What are you doing?" She slapped my hand, which remained in place.

What a tease. She knew perfectly well. "Taking advantage of your unique service." I reached under her skirt, slipping my fingers into her panties. On the next wave, I slid my hand down the outside of her thigh, taking her panties with them.

"Hey! Stop that!"

Was she used to pulling her panties aside for her fucking clients? I found that inconvenient and chafing. As Falen steadied our course, I slid my trunks to my ankles. My erection rebounded under her skirt. The uneven movement poked my erection at the junction of her thighs.

"What's wrong with you? Are you some kind of pervert?"

"I'm getting us ready for that fucking-good ride you promised." I glanced over her shoulder. My dick was sticking out between her thighs. I rocked back and forth.

"You took that literally? It's just a marketing slogan. We can't - oh God - you thought -" The motion of the jet ski humped us back and forth, sawing her pussy against my prick. "God, you're so big - I don't know if - We can't -"

"Sure we can. Your sign promised."

The action was under the cover of her skirt, but I felt naughty as our genitals toyed with each other. I squatted so the head of my dick was pointed up at her pussy.

"Are you serious?" she asked. "You're really going to -"

"No, we are." I reached around and slid one finger along the crease, parting her outer lips. One good bounce, and I'd penetrate.

"Oh shit!" Her thighs were naturally spread. Was she a willing participant in this mutual adventure? "Hang on!" she shouted. "Rough water ahead."

Pleasure boats had left churn in their wake. Falen had no choice but to attack choppy waves and drive through them, bouncing us. My dick, no longer in position for penetration, was pummeling her crotch. Did she want sex, or just repeated incidental contact? It was my turn to make a choice. I slid one hand from her waist down past her belly. I caught my prick poking past her cunt, bent lower, and nestled the head against her pussy so on the next bump, I'd be in. It was now Falen's choice.

"I can't believe it. We're really going to-"

On the next series of impacts, the jet ski rebounded. Our bodies jerked up. When we came down, my dick thrust up, pushing me into her pussy.

"Oh God. I've never had a ride like this!" she cried.

I agreed, although her skirt zipper was jabbing me. I slid the zipper down. Except the skirt unzipped completely and flew off into the water. With her groin exposed, I used one hand to play with her pussy from the front as I attacked from the rear. Falen's driving became erratic, jerking our direction from one random heading to the next.

Her breasts thumped against my arm, and they deserved attention as well. I untied the knot that held her shirt on and her breasts enclosed.

"What now?"

I thought the answer was obvious, as my hands groped her breasts. Holding her tits was so much better than holding her waist. Her shirt flapped against my face. She was reaching back, either to touch me or gather her shirt tales to retie her top. The jet ski changed direction again. We were heading towards shore, and getting mighty close. The people's faces were distinct, so if I could see them, they could see us. Falen's attempt to get her shirt closed backfired, as the shirt slipped off her arm. It fluttered from one shoulder, then plastered itself across my face.

I felt the jet ski swerve ninety degrees, which would have put us parallel with the shore. We must have gotten close, because I heard catcalls and whistles. People on the beach were cheering us on. I wondered how many dozens of bathers witnessed two adults, fucking on a jet ski? I did my best to hide her breasts with my hands, but my hands were only so big. They didn't see her nipples, except when I cupped her tits and raised them up for display.

With our feet in the stirrups, her undressed situation, and me still inside, Falen didn't have much control, except over the jet ski. She must have swung our transportation away from shore, because the shouts got softer. I pulled her shirt from my face. We rode behind a small motorboat for cover, but the boat's wake was an unending series of sharp waves that rocked our jet ski up and down, continuously. Which became the rhythm of our intercourse. Embarrassed or not, shouts of encouragement from the folks on the motorboat or not, Falen was enjoying the fucking, at least from her moans and downward thrusts each time I pushed into her.

"God, this is nasty!"

I pulled at her nipples as I made my final assault. Given no choice of alternatives, she got a cunt full of my sex juice. My worn-out cock shrunk and slipped from her pussy. I squatted and pulled up her bottoms and my trunks before she headed to her slip on the pier. She held one arm across her tits until I jumped off the jet ski and tossed her the ranger hat, which barely covered her chest. I pushed my way through the mob of onlookers, many waving cash for the next ride out. I was convinced she'd be busy for the rest of the season, and sexually satisfied as well. I hoped she appreciated the favor.

At the poolside bar, I opened a tab and charged a cold fruity drink. Guests on adjacent stools whispered about some couple who had sex on a jet ski in plain sight from shore.

Just as I choked on my blended concoction, Harriett walked up. "Terrific! You're going to meet Rianne and you're drunk."

"Nice to see you too. It's fruit juice. Want a taste?"

"Never mind. You look terrible. Here, take my key. Go clean yourself up and meet us at the bar in half an hour. Don't be late." She huffed and clacked off, heels on concrete.

I wondered how she'd gotten checked in. I fetched my bags from storage and went up to our room. The drapes were pulled back, so I went out onto the balcony. The view was magnificent, the lake, the surrounding countryside, and the next curved section of the hotel. I even saw Falen giving an intimate jet ski ride to an enthusiastic passenger.

A warm shower removed remnant sex juices and the lake water, which had an artificial smell. I put on a polo shirt that was void of any technology company logo and dress slacks. I'd need credibility to tell Rianne "hands off my wife."

The bar was mostly empty, so finding the two women was easy. Rianne stood when I approached the table. She was so squatty that it looked like she was still sitting. Her round body had uneven layers of fatty tissue. Perhaps she'd tried some diet or mechanism to lose weight, leaving her with inner tubes. Before I could say a word, she was talking. "Harvey, Harriett has told me so much about you."

I wondered what Harriett said but didn't ask. "Nice to meet you." I extended a hand for a shake.

Rianne ignored my gesture, and waved her hand to fetch either a cab or the waitress. "What would you like?'

Another jet ski ride with the stacked blonde? Stephanie's permission to make love to her daughter Inga? "Diet cola, please."

Harriett stood. "I have some calls to make. I'll leave you two alone, to get better acquainted. After all, that's why families were invited. Right?"

I'd never seen Harriett this nervous, except the first time she saw me with an erection. Now that was a shocker!

"So, Harvey," Rianne stirred her drink, a short wide glass that mirrored her physique, "Why in the world would Harriett run off and leave us alone?"

I cleared my throat. Just then, my drink arrived. I took a large gulp and gripped the glass with both hands. "Harriett told me you approached her in a sexual manner."

"Yesssssss?" It was a hiss more than a question. "One of the benefits of my position is the opportunity for extramarital sex."

Rianne was nothing if not blunt. "Harriett's not that kind of person. In fact, she's not very sexual at all." Too much information. Rianne had no right to our personal incompatibility.

"I'm just an abnormally needy woman in that way. However, I go both ways. If your wife won't come through, perhaps you will?"

I can find something attractive about most women. Something physical. Something emotional. Maybe, in a pinch, something intellectual. But so far, there was nothing attractive about Harriett's boss. "Me?"

"Yes, you. If you satisfy me, I'll keep Harriett on. Without the usual bonuses, but at least she'll retain her position."

I shook my head. "I have rule about getting involved with co-workers. Mine or my wife's."

"But not others, correct? I did my research on you, Harvey. You're quite the philanderer. I have details about two of your sexual liaisons, once of which resulted in an abortion. How many more have there been, hmmm? Men like you don't stop at two, do they?"

Harriett had been right. Rianne was dangerous. Not the individual or the time to admit anything. "I don't know where you got your information, but you're-"

"From reputable sources. In one case, from the horse's mouth herself." She sipped her dark drink in a room that seemed to be getting darker. "Don't worry your little head. I'm not going to tattle on you. And as for your wife, she's much too, well, shy. She'll have nothing to worry about from me, as far as an intimate relationship. I'll find a suitable replacement for my satisfaction."

Okay, so Harriett was safe from unwanted advances. But I was at risk. "Your silence doesn't come free, does it?"

"You should know, it never does." Rianne's hand was up again, this time for a refill of her glass. "You're quite clever, in a minimal sort of way."

"I still won't sleep with you, if that's what you have in mind." I didn't believe I was telling a woman we wouldn't fuck. And, that I said it out loud just as the waitress arrived at the table.

Rianne looked up at the server. "Reverse psychology."

The waitress made a quick retreat.

"No, dear boy, I have no such desire. When it comes to men, I want them young, muscular and energetic. You simply don't measure up."

Maybe Rianne didn't know as much about me as she thought. Like the size and talent of my cock, which was likely bigger and better than any of her musclemen. And my stamina, which I expected was better than her previous lovers, no matter their age. Her loss. "So what's the price, huh? We don't have much money. That's why Harriett is working."

'A much simpler fee, and more pleasurable for a man like you." She swigged the second drink down in one gulp. "You will make love to my daughter. And I will make it easy for you. You two will share a room. I'll share mine with Harriett. And I will honor my promise not to approach her in that way."