The Way It Is 1

Marissa spread her towel over a yoga mat on the pool deck, and let herself down, laying stretched out, prone. She undid the string ties of her bikini top, so as not to mar her flawless back with tan-lines, before settling her head on her crossed arms. Drowsing in the warmth of the sun, helped along, no doubt, by a generous margarita she'd just finished, soon had her dozing--her thoughts wandering through shapeless, vaguely erotic daydreams.

Theirs was a very private back yard, so, feeling safe, and protected, Marissa slumbered, basking in the tingly warmth of her fantasies. That is, until the sound of the side gate closing jolted her awake. Startled, she jumped and pushed herself up, lifting her chest off the towel, only to find two strangers--two very large coloured-folk--staring at her lovely visage, from just inside the gate.

"Who the hell are you?" Marissa yelped, her belligerence successfully disguising her shock and fear.

"Uh, we're..." the smaller of the two giants sputtered.

"And how'd you get in?" Marissa didn't wait for an explanation. "What do you want?"

"Uhh, your husband gave us a key."

"What? Why?" The two interlopers stood, stunned, mouths hanging open, jaws slack. After a long moment, Marissa realized what they were staring at. She was, inadvertently, flashing her bared boobs! Leaning forward, she quickly rounded up her hanging tits, gathering them up into a tiny bikini top, that offered little in the way of modesty. As she hadn't been expecting company, the bottoms--a miniscule thong--offered even less protection. Continuing her defensive bluster, she demanded, "Well?"

"Mr. Phelps hired us--our property care service," the speaking half of the pair offered tentatively. It was, sadly, no surprise to Marissa that her husband had neglected to tell her about any new total-yard-care contract; nor that he'd furnished them with key to the back gate.

"We're Oceana Total Exterior Property Care. When he hired us, your husband said to drop by ASAP to assess and plan, perhaps even set up a routine. He said that we could get specifics from you. You're Mrs. Phelps, his wife, I presume."

"It's actually Ms. Conway--but, yes, I'm his wife. Still, why are you here, now? Shouldn't you have called first?"

Oceana Total Exterior Property Care was a two-man operation. Sam, the owner and founder, was a twenty-eight-year-old South Asian Fijian. A big boy, he stood 6'3", weighing in at about 225 pounds. His employee, and de facto partner, was Valasi; a 6'6", twenty-six-year-old Samoan--coming in at about 270 pounds. The two giants stood, mouths agape, staring, until Marissa suddenly realized she was still nearly naked. She instantly fumbled about to cover herself with her towel, while Sam and Valasi, unknowingly, shared the same thoughts: The sexy-looking middle-aged woman they had surprised, was a real fox. She had a dynamite bod, and whether she had kids or not, she was most definitely a MILF. The glimpsed view of her lithe figure--long legs, flat tummy, heart-shaped ass--and perfect tits had Valasi's nether regions twitching and swelling. While Sam did all the talking, Valasi just stared appreciatively, and wondered if she could make out the boner beginning to tent the front of his shorts. Always fast with the lewd comment, Sam muttered under his breath, in an aside to his partner, "I wouldn't mind spending the day burying the salami in her."

Marissa and Derwin's property--or, more precisely, Marissa's property--was a classic, old-style estate, with a long, paved driveway sweeping through wooded acres up to the portico entrance of a large, stately mansion. There were several out-buildings scattered about, including a relatively large 'carriage house' garage, with a roomy, two-bedroom apartment above it. Also, a short distance off, there was a sizeable groundskeepers' barn.

As he was often called away on business, Derwin, Marissa's husband, had hired them--a fledgling exterior property care company--full-time. Of course, even if he'd been retired, Marissa's husband would never have stooped to engage in such menial tasks as any form of yard-work might represent. The previous company had, as a result of their own success, been unable to provide the estate as much attention as Derwin thought they deserved; so, he'd got his PA to find a hungry, upstart business. The boys fit the bill perfectly. They were more than willing to take care of lawns, gardens, pool, spa, fences, walls, woods, building maintenance, security, and even odd-jobs; Derwin's Personal Assistant had been authorized to offer the successful candidates the use of the carriage house apartment at a very much reduced rate. Furthermore, they could use the 'carriage house' garage and paddock for their truck and tools, as well as their cars and bikes. For Sam, this meant covered parking for his new Mustang convertible. For Valasi: his classic Harley Electra-glide.

The interior care of the main house was the domain of a trio of middle-aged women from Homecare Express who quietly arrived, five days-a-week, in a gray Nissan Leaf, to keep house and prepare meals. On the weekends, meal preparation and emergency house-keeping were dealt with by Livvy, an earnest and conscientious young student from the same agency.

Marissa Conway was an attractive forty-five-year-old. She was a retired business executive, and an heiress. Her husband, Derwin, was eight years her senior--a silver-haired workaholic, losing his battle to stay fit. Their financial success was reflected in the contents of their garage: for him, a baby blue Bentley Continental GTC 5 convertible; for her, a burnt almond Jaguar F-TYPE Coupe.

Marissa was a natural beauty. At five foot eight, a hundred and twenty pounds with a perfect C-cup thirty-six-inch bosom, she was--thanks to regular sessions with a personal trainer--trim and fit. The guys couldn't help but ogle--undressing her with their eyes. She could tell by the sparkle in their surreptitious side-long glances there was appreciation--appreciation and hunger! "Sadly," the thought came, unbidden, "it's been a long time since I've seen that." Nowadays, her husband rarely demonstrated such carnal intensity.

In fact, Marissa realized it had been an awfully long time since she had put herself in a position where strangers had openly appraised her; although, truth was, she still got those appreciative looks quite regularly. Just that, generally, they were more subtle these days, and, somehow, she didn't notice them anymore. Not really since she'd been married had she felt such looks of undisguised desire--as these two gardeners were giving her. And it wasn't a bad feeling. Not at all.

Modesty wouldn't allow Marissa to admit that, despite her inexorable approach towards middle age, she was still a true beauty--eminently attractive. After the initial shock of unexpectedly meeting the two new groundskeepers--the two young hunks--wore off, she decided she liked their attention, and began to, albeit, innocently, flirt.

By the second week of their employ, the boys' ogling was getting a little bit bolder. "She could shine my shaft any time she wanted," Sam remarked to Vaali, sotto voce. And Marissa, completely surprising herself, started entertaining strange waking-dream fantasies of being carried off as plunder by faceless South-Pacific pirates--daydreams that left her chest heaving, her neck, face, and bosom glowing, and her pussy damp.

One afternoon, thinking Mrs Phelps--Ms Conway--was out, Sam strode around the corner of the house, and came to an abrupt halt. Frozen, he watched in silent appreciation, his boss, Marissa, masturbating. Perched on the patio couch, she was on her knees, ass high, head-down resting against her cheek. Both her hands were busy between her legs. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her breath ragged, and as he watched, it became apparent that one hand was working a rather large dildo in and out of her twat, while the other was furiously twiddling her clit. By the jolting and huffing, the quivering and whimpering, her climax was fast approaching. Sam watched in awe as her orgasm hit with the force of a freight-train. To a chorus of oooohs, and aaahhs and stifled screams, her thrashing body very nearly toppled off the daybed. Sam slipped unnoticed back out of sight, his pecker twitching.

After a few weeks, the, albeit limited, banter was increasingly laced with vague innuendo--but becoming more overt. Responding to Sam's unabashed staring, as he asked an unnecessary question of clarification, while openly licking his lips, Marissa chuckled, "Surely you can't be interested in an old bag like me, lol!"

"You're certainly not," he stated, with real emphasis on the word 'not', "an old bag!"

Marissa began looking for opportunities to serve the boys--or whomever was around--generally Sam--refreshments on sunny afternoons. She was embarrassed at her own audacity, the first time she brought them some lemonade, wearing only her bikini bottoms, flip-flops, and her bath-robe. Still, it felt exciting, empowering, to secretly hang loose while interacting with the guys. Mind you, the fact that she was braless under her robe was more or less an obvious secret.

Marissa had no idea why she suddenly felt the need to be on birth control. She convinced herself that she was not planning to cheat on her husband. "Honestly," she thought, just possibly deluding herself, "the thought never crossed my mind." Notwithstanding, the next time she saw her doctor, she finagled a prescription for oral contraceptives. "Just to regulate my periods, you understand, as I approach menopause."

Sam's antennae had been raised for a while now, jangling faintly. He had a hunch, and he generally followed his hunches, as more often than not they were right; so, anticipating something, he suggested to Valasi, "If I were you, I would wear big whities tomorrow."

"Why?"

"Trust me on this."

When he had originally engaged Oceana Total Exterior Property Care, Derwin had casually indicated, with an inexcusable disregard for his wife's privacy, that the boys could use the pool anytime. This, Sam decided, had numerous possibilities. He was basically a good guy, but was, as well, an unabashed pussy-hound, and, in Ms Conway, he saw a challenge.

So, on a hot afternoon, the boys came bustling in the side gate. Ignoring Marissa, and frantically pulling their clothes off, they loudly jumped in, wearing only their briefs. "Oh, Ms Conway," Sam sputtered, lying through his teeth, "Didn't see you. Sorry to intrude." He climbed out of the pool to stand close beside Marissa's chaise-lounge, and explain the implied permission they'd got from her husband. Sam convincingly feigned ignorance of the fact that his underwear--as well as Valasi's, who wisely stayed in the pool and watched--became very nearly transparent when wet.

After explaining their presence there, Sam coaxed and cajoled Marissa into joining them in the pool. After all, it was plenty big enough to share. Marissa was mortified by his virtually exposed cock, especially when it slowly began tenting the thinly stretched material of his ginch--which he pretended not to notice. She finally agreed to follow Sam in just to get his obscene equipment out of sight.

Early the following week, Marissa saw Sam and Valasi head around the corner of the house. She figured, correctly, they were heading for the pool. She smiled as she mixed them some ice-cold lemonade and headed for the deck door to offer them some. Blithely striding onto the poolside patio, her thin cover-up billowing out behind her, she called out, "Got some refreshment for you guys."

"Thank you, Ma'am," Sam replied, vaulting out of the pool. It took a long, surreal moment for Marissa to realize he was completely naked.

"Uh. Oh!" she rasped. You could almost see her picking her jaw up off the ground.

"D'ya want a glass, Vas?" Sam asked Valasi, then, lifting the plastic patio tumblers off Marissa's proffered tray, added, "Wet gaunchies are really uncomfortable." As if that explained it all.

Flummoxed, Marissa said, as she put her refreshment tray down on a patio table, "I just thought you might have had bathing suits by now." Marissa was transfixed by the naked glimpses she got, as Sam handed the drink to Valasi, got back in the pool.

Valasi was visibly mortified. "Sam assured me you wouldn't mind." He sputtered. Although they were best friends, he and Sam were pretty much exact opposites personality-wise--Yin and Yang.

Sam just shrugged it off. "You've basically already seen what there is to see."

"But it's different out in the open," Marissa thought to herself; and she was amazed by the actual sizes of the two flopping limp dicks. Flabbergasted, she excused herself and headed back into the house, despite Sam jocularly imploring her to stay and join them. She suddenly felt a desperate need to masturbate.

The next time she encountered them at the pool, they both wore new bathing suits. Valasi wore trunks; Sam a Speedo. Other than Sam's ongoing barrage of cheeky innuendo, the afternoon proceeded without incident or sexual tension. Everything was mellow and everyone enjoyed themselves. After that, though, Sam contrived to arrange some of his time at the pool to correspond with Valasi off working afield--in the far reaches of the estate.

Marissa told herself that she was just tolerating the interruptions to her sunbathing; however, truth was, she enjoyed the distraction--the masculinity of the boys' visits, and Sam's playful irreverence. Carrying her own tray of refreshments out to the poolside, usually, she'd just happen to bring enough for herself and one or both the boys. Especially when Valasi was not present, Sam would, repeatedly, catch Marissa eying up his crotch. It was quite obvious that she was, to say the least, fascinated.

Feeling uncomfortable lying on the chaise-lounge, engaging in some inane small-talk, while Sam stood with his drink, looking down on her, Marissa rose and wandered over to the edge of the pool. Stepping up behind her, Sam feigned pushing her in. Then, during the ensuing tussle, he really did toss her in. "Oops! Sorry," he sang out, with questionable sincerity, as he followed her in.

As he helped her untangle from her cover-up, she swatted him. "You little bugger!" she cried, but couldn't keep the humour out of her voice. "Keep your hands off me." Sam took her amusement as an invitation, and proceeded to annoy her with a little underwater grab-ass as she made her way out of the pool, with Sam hot on her tail. During the continued light-hearted assault, he 'accidentally'--and it actually was an accident--flipped up Marissa's bikini top, exposing her boobs. She had been, once again, distracted by the swollen package in the front of Sam's Speedo, and as she struggled to hide her bare tits, Sam poked his hand in to cop a feel, at the same time, reprimanding her for her attention to his penis. "Have you never seen a coloured penis--a brown cock before?" he asked, all joking aside. "Don't you know: white cocks are underdone; black cocks are overdone; but brown cocks are just perfect!" Marissa nodded, her eyes having, once more, strayed down to his tightly covered groin. "D'ya wanna touch it?" Marissa felt the question came completely out of left field; still, she found herself nodding again.

Smiling indulgently, Sam took Marissa's hand and placed it over his bathing-suit-encased junk. "Just pet it through the material," he suggested, "and see what happens." And what happened was that the clothed flesh began to noticeably swell up, and stretch out, stretching, indeed, stressing the elasticity of the Spandex brief. Holding Marissa's gaze with his eyes, Sam started to gently maul Marissa's boobs. Detecting no objection, he dropped his other hand down onto the mound between her legs, and began stroking her pussy in time with her manipulations of his thickening cock. A sudden arousal discharged within her genitals and her pussy-juice let down like a flash-flood, re-soaking her drying bikini, as well as his continually stroking hand. After a just a moment of mutual erotic caress, Marissa abruptly pulled her hand away, stepped back, out of Sam's reach, turned, and without a word, scurried back into the house. Sam watched her flee, a smile curling his lips as he raised his hand up to his face, and ran his slicked fingers up under his nose. Heaving satisfied sniff he dove into the pool and swam a few laps before gathering his towel and leaving.

Following that, Sam took whatever opportunities presented themselves to caress and grab, trade strokes and gropes; to push his way beneath garments, and cop feels as often as possible. While Marissa complained loudly, she continued to put herself in vulnerable positions, apparently enjoying way too much fending off Sam's insistent and prolonged attacks.

On the occasions he made it back in time from the far reaches of the property, Valasi--normally shy and reserved--was repeatedly shocked and embarrassed by Sam's boldness. For instance, Valasi still addressed Marissa as Ms Conway, while Sam took to addressing her as 'Issa. Nevertheless, not wanting to miss out on a cooling dip, nor, when it came to that, the titillating entertainment, Valasi attended the pool as often as he could; although, as he became increasingly uncomfortable, Valasi missed much of the pool and deck goings-on. More and more he got in and got out; quickly finding something else to do. Yet, despite Sam's inappropriate behaviour--on so many levels--Marissa found herself enjoying his tactile attention, his cheeky repartee, and, oddly enough, that he called her by his very own pet name.

Marissa began to reciprocate, making cheeky, suggestive comments--or was it Sam who was reciprocating? While it was obvious there was a seduction going on, it remained unclear who was seducing whom. Regardless, the innuendo progressed, smoothly, to include a bit of tickle and grope beneath the surface of the pool. And, at that, Sam slowly became more aggressive, pushing the envelope, assuming a more 'take charge' role in the games. "How far will she let me go?"

"How far will I let him go?"

It wasn't long before Sam boldly brought it out in the open, asking the questions on both of their minds. "What are you expecting out of this, Issa? What are you waiting for?"

"What do you mean?"

"You come prancing about in your tiny bikini and flimsy cover-up, or your loosely tied robe and unsupported tits, bringing unsolicited refreshments, and you think I'm willing to believe you're not looking for something in return." Marissa sputtered, unable to come up with a retort. "I mean, I'm more than happy to help, but if we're going to fornicate that has to be your decision and yours alone."

Gobsmacked, Marissa feigned offence at his temerity. I mean, Sam was always brash and insistent, but this was too much! She turned and stomped off, back into the house, without a word. And, as much as she tried to avoid contact with 'that insolent bastard,' for the next few days, Sam made it very difficult. He eventually broke the silence in a rather novel, if juvenile manner. He waited until he knew Marissa was on the deck, sunbathing; then, running in through the gate, he dove into the pool, and surfaced right at Marissa's feet.

Accepting her annoyed stare, he waited, holding her gaze, before apologizing--with, apparently, some degree of sincerity--for his presumptuous behaviour. "Just kinda a lapse in self-control." He shrugged, as he pulled himself out of the water to perch on the pool's edge. He was, perhaps a little surprisingly, wearing his bathing suit. "I mean, you're a very--an incredibly attractive woman, and I...." Stuttering to a stop, he noted a very slight look of pride turn up the corners of her lips. So, suddenly changing tacks, he offered, innocently, "Would you like me to put sunscreen on your back? It would be a shame to burn such a lovely complexion."