The doorbell rang and I rushed to pick up my bags. My girlfriend had arrived with her mom, and we were going to their beach house for the weekend. I had been excited for this trip for some time. I was eager to spend some quality time with my girlfriend Heather, whom I hardly ever got to see, between my football practices and her cheerleading, as well as our other social obligations. I also wasn't exactly disappointed that her mom would be there; Heather's mom was a knockout, even at age forty. She was divorced and god only knows why someone else hadn't moved in on her...
I opened the front door to find Heather waiting. She was looking as sexy as ever. Heather had shoulder length curly blond hair, pale blue eyes, and full lips. That day she wore a black spaghetti strap top and a white pleated skirt that – if she turned around – I am sure would barely cover her ass. Heather had small b-cup breasts, which I wasn't crazy about, but she more than made up for it with the rest of her body, which was flawless – especially her full, firm perfectly curved ass. That was a work of art.
Heather helped me out to the car with my bags after giving me an obligatory little kiss on the cheek. Then Heather and I climbed into the back seat together. Heather's mom turned around to say hello and smiled warmly at me. "Hello, Mrs. Daniels," I said.
"Please, Charlie" she said, smiling, "Call me Angie, or at least Angela." She looked very much like her daughter, but had larger d-cup breasts to match her perfect ass and legs. That day she was wearing a black dress, somewhat low-cut, which I could tell would barely cover her ass when she stood up. As it was, I caught a wonderful glimpse of her thighs when I leaned over the front seat-back to say hello. I knew then I was going to have a hell of a weekend.
The drive took an hour. I found myself constantly leering over at Heather's smooth, perfect sexy thighs. I was wishing I could slide my hands over her creamy skin and between her legs, but I didn't dare with Heather's mom in the front seat. Besides, Heather was such a prude 90% of the time; I probably wouldn't get anywhere if we had been alone.
The house, I found upon my arrival, was a very nice two-story affair. It wasn't huge, but it was large enough for a family. It had three bedrooms, one of which had been turned into a study, a living, family and dining area as well as a kitchen upstairs. There was a balcony spanning the entire upstairs of the house, looking over the beach. It was a place I wouldn't have minded living in.
When we arrived, I was automatically relegated to carrying all the luggage inside, since I was the lone man at the beach house. First I carried all of Heather's luggage into the downstairs room that she would be sleeping in (I was supposed to sleep on the couch, but I was hoping I could sneak into Heather's room at night). I lugged the bags inside and watched her as she unpacked, putting her clothes into dresser drawers. She bent over to put something inside the bottom drawer as I came in with the last bag. She bent at the waist and not the knees. Her skirt rode up to reveal fully half of her perfect, luscious ass. I could see the string of a thong disappearing between her perfectly rounded cheeks. I couldn't resist anymore. I walked over to her quietly and groped her ass full-on with both hands, squeezing it gently. Her soft creamy skin felt like heaven in my hands.
But it wasn't to be. Before I could even get started, she slapped my hands away in a huff. "Grow up, Charlie!" she barked at me. "Go and take my Mom's things upstairs and stop that!"
Dejected, I slunk out of the room and grabbed all the rest of the luggage from the car, lugging it up the stairs to the master bedroom. "Hey, Charlie, thanks for bringing all that up," Mrs. Daniels said. I still couldn't get used to the idea of calling her Angela, much less Angie.
Mrs. Daniels was taking the comforter off the bedspread and folding it up into quarters and eighths. "Could you do me a favor, Charlie? Could you take my clothes out of my suitcases and put it into those dresser drawers there?"
"Sure thing," I said, bending over to unzip the first case. I started putting her clothes away one drawer at a time. I put her pants into one – she had a few pairs of what looked to be tight-fitting jeans, and some Daisy Dukes. She had a couple pairs of sweat pants and sweat shorts for lounging around in. She had several more skirts, each of which was just as short as what she was wearing now, and a couple dresses which were more – but not much more – modest than the skirts. She also had numerous low-cut tops and baby tee-shirts.
"It's so hot here this weekend," she said, "I don't even know if I'll need to sleep with a sheet tonight!"
I gulped, imagining her perfect nude body spread out over the tops of her sheets, lithe and stretching, reaching for me. But who was I kidding? I'd never see that. She probably didn't even sleep naked. It was all wishful thinking. "I know what you mean," I said. "It's a scorcher."
I turned back to her suitcases and found them all empty of her clothing. I realized that I hadn't unpacked any underwear of any kind – bras or panties or nightgowns, not even a bathrobe. "Um..." I started. "Did I miss something of yours, Mrs. – I mean, Angela? It seems like there's something missing here."
She looked over at me and said, "No, those are all my bags."
"But there's no..." I trailed off.
"No underwear?" she asked.
"Well... yeah," I finished awkwardly, standing up to face her.
"Oh," she said, "Well don't worry about that. I never wear underwear. I don't even own any." She smiled at me in a way that seemed calculatedly innocent. "It's a comfort thing," she finally explained, but somehow I thought it was more. Perhaps Mrs. Daniels did have a bit of an adventurous side, unlike her daughter.
I gulped again and tried to smile back. "Oh, I see," I said. "Well, need any more help?"
"Nope," she said. "I've got the rest. Thanks, Charlie!"
