Life can get lonely when your husband is away. All characters are over 18.
I woke late and had had my breakfast. I'm Cindy Roamer and I was toweling off after my shower when I heard steps outside. It's already twenty past ten, but I'm surprised that Barney would get here so early. He isn't due until ten thirty and is rarely punctual.
It's a Sunday morning in mid-March and last night the clocks had sprung forward one hour. Perhaps that has kick-started Barney's internal clock although it's hard to imagine. I pick up the suntan lotion and then put it down again. Walking into the bedroom I take a bikini from my closet and slip into it. Here in Southern Florida mid-March is bikini weather. I pull on a terry towel robe and go back to the bathroom to collect the suntan lotion. As I go down the stairs, I can hear the mower going in the front yard.
Barney is in his sixties, and he claims to be retired although he works mornings at the local Walmart as a greeter. Every second Sunday he comes to us to do some light gardening for a couple of hours. Although I'm just thirty-two I like to flirt a little with Barney when my husband Daniel isn't here. I'm a born American but I became a Canadian when I married Daniel. We met at McGill University where I went to study. We dated, fell in love, and married shortly after graduating.
My parents live in Washington where I grew up, and last year I inherited this small house from my grandfather. Daniel and I live in Montreal but it's now our plan to winter here in future and return to Montreal in the spring. We can both work remotely, but Daniel needs to market his skills in person whereas my work finds me. As soon as the fierce cold was about to end, he was off to start networking on his home turf. That was fifteen days ago and I'm missing him.
Putting on my sunglasses and picking up a towel and my book I go out through the sliding doors. I cross the patio to the poolside, lie down on a lounger and begin to read. I hear the sound on the side-gate and the mower being pushed along the path. When Barney reaches me, I will ask him to put lotion on my back. We've done this before, and I always undo my bikini strap while lying face down on the lounger. It gives us both a little sense of naughtiness and we trust each other that it will go no further.
This time I lay my sunglasses and book aside, undo the strap and balance the lotion on the small of my back before burying my face in the towel on my lounger. There is only a thin strip of lawn here in the back and moments later I hear the mower stop.
"Would you be a dear and come and do my back?"
I hear his faint tread and then the shock of the cold lotion on my back before his hands spread it with a caressing motion across my shoulder blades up to my neck and shoulders and down to the top of my bikini bottoms. He starts again a little more firmly releasing knots in my neck and shoulders. I let my arms hang and he picks up the left one and gently massages more lotion into my biceps and triceps and on down my forearm to my hand. He massages the palm and the base of my thumb and then pulls on each finger in turn before releasing my hand.
He moves to my other side lifts my arm and repeats the process. I sense him shift and feel lotion on my right calf. This is new but quite welcome. Barney is also quite an accomplished artist. He understands the bone and muscle structure of the human body well. I have seen his paintings of the nude figure, both male and female mostly but not exclusively, of his late wife. These thoughts are in my mind as his hands move to massage my feet and ankles. A little thrill runs through my groin as he massages the area on the back of my ankle just above the heal.
"What Is the connection there?" I wonder. I have noticed it when I've had therapeutic massages. "It must be a reflexology thing, weird!"
Leaving my feet he works from the backs of my knees up the backs of my thighs, and I start to feel a tingle of anticipation. He stops at my upper thighs, and I feel lotion on my hips as his hands slide up my sides and around the sides of my breasts that are pressed firmly in the towel.
"Is this really Barney?" the question enters my head, "It's definitely more than he has ever done before. But if not, then who? It's surely not Daniel. I spoke to him in Toronto only yesterday. There's really no one else it could be."
With his thought I relax. I trust him and I'm intrigued to see where he will stop, especially as I find myself discretely pulling on the side ties on my bikini bottoms. I wonder if he will notice. He has. His lotion covered palms of his hands start very slowly inching down my butt, his fingers moving the material ahead of the lotion until I feel it fall on my thighs. Instinctively I part them, obviously so that no residue of the lotion will get on the material.
He massages my glutes, which are firm. I keep my body in good shape. I am aware I am now lying fully exposed before him. It's scary and exciting, especially as he moves my buttocks apart and he must see my anus if not my pussy.
His hands move again to my ankles, the insides this time, and up the insides of my calves. My legs creep slightly wider with a mind of their own as he moves past my knees to my inner thighs. I muffle a sigh as my anticipation builds. This is not Barney, but I push the thought aside. As his hands make gentle feathering movements up my inner thighs I can hardly keep still. I can feel I am wet and leaking moisture into the towel. He must sense my arousal. His fingers lightly brush up beside, but scarcely touch, my vagina. I flinch.
I hear a rustle of clothing being removed and the sound of a zipper being pulled down.
"What the heck?" I experience very confused emotions as shoes are kicked off and there is a loud splash.
I feel spray from the pool hit me, I rise on my arms and dropping my legs off the lounger I swivel to face the pool. Imagine my shock and surprise when I find someone I don't know is in my pool.
