(Author's note: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, places, and/or things is coincidental.)
*
Gwen was up early, a repeat of the previous morning's activities out of the question as preparations for Sunday dinner were begun in earnest. An already spotless house was cleaned again in anticipation of their guests' arrival. It was not the size of the crowd—only four others besides she and Tim—but two of the attendees who made her triple-check her work. The visits from Gwen's mother and father, Norman and Irene Curran, always put her into high alert, wanting to make sure everything was perfect in their eyes, that no fault could be found. Occasionally, she succeeded.
Gwen and Tim's oldest daughter and her husband, Alison and Jason, would be there also, and she took some comfort in that. Ali provided a buffer of sorts, and Irene would generally spend her time doting on her granddaughter while Norman regaled Jason with tales from the world of corporate law.
Tim arose shortly after his wife, softly padding into the living room to find her bent over the coffee table, arranging magazines and photo albums. He briefly considered flipping her robe up over her back to see if she had dressed before leaving their room, but instead chuckled to himself at the thought of his incredibly ill-advised idea and headed to the kitchen for coffee. Of course she was dressed. She was always dressed, last night notwithstanding.
"Oh—good morning!" Gwen said as she hurried in behind him. "You can take care of the outside, right? I've got some more cleaning to do, and dinner to start."
"I always take care of the outside," he said with a patient smile. "And I can't see where any more cleaning has to be done."
"That's because you're a man," she replied as she kissed his cheek. "My mother will find what I missed."
Tim grunted. You won't have missed it, he thought to himself, but she'll pretend to find it anyways.
The couple worked steadily throughout the morning, only pausing long enough to take showers shortly before their guests arrived. Dinner went off without a hitch, Gwen's parents arriving exactly when they had said they would, and leaving precisely one hour after coffee had been served. Ali and Jason pitched into to help clean up before Gwen and her daughter retreated to the stables for a ride up the hill. Tim and Jason changed into swim trunks and, beer bottles in hand, made their way to the pool to await the return of their wives.
The riders reappeared almost two hours later, caring for their mounts before making their way to the house to change into pool attire. Tim was disappointed to find Gwen had chosen her more modest black single piece suit, but said nothing. The mental image of last evening's bikini lingered.
It was nearly dark when Alison and Jason said their goodbyes. Gwen and Tim spent a few precious moments together in front the TV, relaxing after their exhausting day off, neither saying much, just enjoying each other's presence. The stress and pace of the day as enough to send them off to bed by 9, Tim doing the final walk around the house while Gwen headed for the bedroom. He followed her in shortly after, his wife already under the covers, eyes closed, where he joined her soon after. The light was turned out, Tim noting with satisfaction she was wearing the t-shirt from the night before. Gwen rolled over and wrapped herself around her husband. Both knew it was not a night for sex; the exhaustion of the day was rapidly catching up with them. Still, Tim could not resist taking a small chance.
"How come you didn't wear your other bathing suit tonight?"
He could feel his wife tense ever so slightly beside him. "A little small to be wearing around my daughter and son-in-law, don't you think? Ali would have been horrified."
"It was no smaller than what she was wearing."
"Yes, but I'm sure Jason has seen her in less." The thought of her handsome young son-in-law, also wearing less than what she had seen today, enflamed her as the Slut flung up the picture on the projector screen in her mind, but she quickly dismissed it as perverted.
"Then he probably has a good idea of what you look like." Tim hugged her, and said no more. Despite her fatigue, sleep came slowly, the Slut always pushing mental images of Gwen in her daughter's place, a naked and erect Jason hovering over her while the Lady fought to take them down with further threats of mental illness
The dream returned that night. She was again chain and bound, her admirers in their positions, stroking their massive erections. It was not lost on her that their bulbous heads were turning the same bright red Tim's had the night before, their slits opening impossibly wide as they fisted their lengths.
Gwen jerked against her restraints as the first jet of pearl-white gel erupted from the cock of the younger man, traveling the many feet to her in a heartbeat to land squarely between her breasts. His next blast hit her squarely on the nipple as the platform turned and she struggled to get out of the line of fire, and a third struck her on the side of the breast. She awoke with a start, sweaty and breathing hard. 4am, she thought as she looked at the clock.
"You OK?" Tim's sleepy voice came from beside her. "it felt like you were fighting something."
"I'm fine," she assured, "just a dream." Gwen reached to turn back the covers, found that she had already kicked them off, and rose. "Go back to sleep." She reached for her bathrobe before deciding against the extra heat it would generate, her only cover the damp t-shirt she wore as she padded down the hallway.
Gwen sat and sipped coffee as she reviewed the dream. It was still vivid, and she could still feel the force with which the man's orgasm had hit her. She was not even aware of her hand moving under the t-shirt and towards her panty-covered crotch, finger gently stroking a line dangerously close to the junction of her thigh and pelvis...
The sound of her husband's footsteps in the hall broke her reverie, hand jerking away from the heat between her legs and returning to her coffee cup.
Tim kissed the top of her head and moved to the coffeemaker. "Seemed like a bad dream. Want to talk about it? Anything I can do to help?"
No," she lied, knowing what she really wanted was for him to take her back to bed, spread her legs and ride her until she climaxed. But to ask for that would mean that her dream was not a nightmare, but something else altogether. "I'll be fine."
Tim and the crews had been gone an hour when Natalie pulled into the yard. Gwen, in a t-shirt and jeans, wryly thought how overdressed she was compared to her sister-in-law's short shorts and half t-shirt.
"Ready to go?" Natalie asked as she climbed the stairs to the back deck and hugged Gwen, hand vigorously rubbing the small of her back. "I don't feel a onesie under there—are you wearing a suit at all?" she asked with a mischievous smile.
"Of course," Gwen replied, blushing. "I didn't think there was any place at the reservoir to change."
"There's always the car, I've done that plenty of times," Natalie countered. "C'mon, let's go."
She soon had the SUV on the highway, and the two women talked of mundane matters—families, jobs, horses. The previous day's dinner was of particular interest to Natalie, and Gwen found herself confessing more of her worries and fears about the event than she ever had to anybody. Something about her sister-in-law just made Gwen trust her, something she had experienced with so few humans in her life.
To Gwen, it seemed like only minutes before they were pulling into the Power Company Reservoir Beach parking lot. The beach itself was a sandy strand upstream from a large utility hydro-electric station and was a favorite spot for families and bored teenagers. The two women selected a patch of sand near where the beach met the lot; Natalie pulled two lawn chairs and an umbrella from the back of her truck and together they toted it all down to their chosen spot.
Gwen sat in her chair and watched while Natalie pulled her t-shirt and shorts off to reveal a bright blue bikini, the top straining to hold her breasts in check while the bottoms revealed more of her cheeks than they covered. She unceremoniously plopped into her chair. "You're gonna get hot in those jeans," Natalie deadpanned from behind dark-lensed sunglasses.
Gwen scanned the crowd nervously, looking for anybody she might know. Couples and mothers dotted the beach, while children played at the water's edge or beyond. Several teen boys skulked about, standing together in water up to their knees. The moment of truth had arrived. A bikini is no better than underwear, the Lady chirped. With a deep breath, she stood and pulled the t-shirt over her head, exposing her bikini-covered breasts and pale midriff to anyone who might care to look. Nervously she looked around for any reaction from the other beachgoers. Finding none, she unbuttoned the jeans and pushed them down, quickly kicking them off and sitting back down, looking for signs of shock or disapproval. Legs together and towel close at hand, she reached for her sunglasses, put them on and continued her reconnaissance.
While Gwen could not say she was comfortable with being close to naked in a public place, she did begin to grow used to it, and eventually pulled a magazine out of her bag to read. Still, her posture was definitely intended to cover as much as possible while sitting in the low chair, continuing to scan the crowd in between turns of the pages. With each of her nervous sweeps, she found herself spending more time examining the college boys clustered in the water. They were handsome, no doubt, and seemed to exude a group self-confidence. Each time she returned to look at them, she wondered a little bit more what they might look like without those baggy shorts...the Lady clucked in disapproval at her discrete lust.
"I'm gonna take a swim—wanna come with me?" Natalie was already rising from her chair, looking down at her sister-in-law.
"No, thanks, I'll just stay here with the bags," Gwen demurred, unwilling to be seen walking around in next-to-nothing.
"C'mon," Natalie insisted, grabbing her by the elbow. "Just stand in the water with me." Again Gwen scanned the crowd as they walked to the lake's edge, looking for signs of disapproval from the other beachgoers.
The college boys seemed anything but disgusted as the pair approached the group. From behind her darkened lenses, she could see the young men examining her and her sister-in-law, and Gwen could just tell they were being mentally undressed. The lady howled in outrage at the perceived invasion of her modesty while the Slut was equally loud in her approval. Let 'em look—you still got it!
Gwen's cheeks burned as they passed the ogling males. Natalie stopped at the water's edge, bending at the waist to wet her lotion-slicked hands, pointing her barely-covered butt at the throng of young men. Gwen wondered if that was intentional.
Natalie calmly handed her sunglasses to Gwen, took a few more steps forward, submerged, and swam out to the buoyed rope boundary. Her sister-in-law contented herself with walking in up to her thighs, careful not to get the revealing bikini wet and perhaps show more than she intended. The woman emerging from the water before her had no such worries. Natalie's wet skin glistened as she walked back towards their chairs, her top now plastered against her breasts like a second skin, highlighting her erect nipples, the bottom hinting at the lips they covered. Without a word she retrieved her glasses from her sister-in-law and paraded past the young men, not giving them a second glance as she strode up the beach. Gwen could see that all the boys were focused on the vision of femininity walking past them, a twinge of jealousy paining her as she knew she had been temporarily forgotten. She hurried past the gawkers and back to her chair.
They sat for some time, exchanging small talk and occasionally reading, napping, or people watching. "Don't look, but I think you've got an admirer," Natalie said softly as Gwen was intently studied a chicken stew recipe in her magazine. She did resist the urge to bring her head up, but her eyes darted about behind her sunglasses, looking for Natalie's point of interest. The group of boys had thinned down by the water's edge, but one young man in particular, a bronze-skinned muscular youth with close-cropped black hair was unashamedly looking up the beach to where the two women sat. Gwen blushed and attempted to discretely cover herself without acknowledging his attention.
"He's looking at you," she muttered, recipe now forgotten. "I'm just part of the background."
