Sandra's Summer

"Your uncle is gorgeous," Sandra whispered into her best friend's ear.

"Sandra!" Michelle smacked the girl next to her lightly on the arm. "He's twice your age. Well, almost."

"I know, but just look at that body."

The two girls were lying atop on a large beach towel. Sandra was propped up on one elbow. Michelle reached behind her back, tied the strings on her bikini top, and then sat up on the blanket beside her friend. She followed Sandra's gaze.

Uncle Mike and several other family members were playing volleyball a few yards away. The teams were uneven, four on five, but her uncle easily made up the difference. Both girls watched as he spun the ball, tossed it upward, and then leaped in the air to serve. His muscles glistened in a sheen of sunscreen lotion and sweat, and Sandra moaned with delight.

"Yeah, he does triathlons and stuff," Michelle murmured. "I guess he has a pretty good bod."

The ball rocketed to the far corner of the court. Michelle's dad and older brother both dove for it, but neither had a chance. Both came up with a face full of sand, as the ball hit the line. Michelle's mom was playing the net on Michael's team. She shouted in triumph.

"Ha! Game point, we win!" She ran to give Michael a victory hug, and squealed when he hugged her back. "Oh yuck! You're covered in sweat. Go take a dunk in the ocean."

Michael flashed a pearly white smile. "Exactly what I was thinking. Who's in?" He sprinted down to the surf, racing in-laws and family to splash in the waves.

Michelle was now watching Sandra, who hadn't taken those big brown eyes off her uncle once.

"I know that look, Sandra Connors." Michelle grinned. "Don't even think it."

Sandra batted her eyelashes in mock innocence. "Who me?"

"Eww, gross. I can't believe you're thinking about THAT. With my UNCLE!"

Sandra smiled, and turned her attention back to Michael. "I can't believe you're not."

* * * * *

It was the second week of summer. Both girls had just finished their senior year in high school. In a few months, Michelle would be heading off to UCLA. Sandra still hadn't figured out what her plans were. She wanted to backpack across Europe for a year, and was hoping she could talk Michelle into postponing school for a year, and joining her.

This week, Michelle's family was gathered for their annual family reunion. Michelle had talked her parents into letting Sandra come along, too. With all the visiting family, there wasn't enough room for the girls in the main house. Michelle's parents had brought along a tent for the girls, which they had set up in the backyard. The girls loved it. It was a quiet retreat from the occasional chaos of the beach house.

On the second morning of their stay, Michael was walking by the girls' tent. He heard some rustling inside.

"God damn it, I just got these nails done." It was Sandra's voice, cursing to herself.

Michael didn't think she had heard him, and didn't want to startle her, so he coughed before stepping closer to the front door flap.

"Hello? Anything I can do to help?" He peered in through the screen window.

In truth, Sandra had seen him coming all along, and she had spun her trap well. Michael found her squatting near the far wall of the tent. She was wrestling with the zipper of the opposite window flap, which appeared stuck.

Sandra didn't turn to face him immediately, which afforded him a moment to admire her sensuous curves. Already she was dressed for the beach, wearing a red and white stripped bikini. Her skin was golden from long hours in the sun. She had a thin waist, and wide hips that shaped her perfectly round ass. Her legs were long and slender. Silk black hair flowed down her back, falling just below her shoulder blades. Michael swallowed, and had to remind himself that that this girl had only just graduated high school. Sandra was 18, he knew, but her body was going on 24!

"Having trouble with the zipper?" he asked.

Sandra looked over her shoulder, and smiled. She had beautiful eyes, full-bodied lips, and a wonderfully innocent face. Her body was half-turned, and from this angle Michael glimpsed her ample breasts as they jutted outward, barely contained in the thin fabric of her bikini top. Sandra caught his quick southward glance, and smiled.

"Oh, hi! Yes ... it's stuck. Think you could give me a hand?"

Michael crouched low to enter the tent. Sandra had already turned her attention back to the zipper, when Michael came up behind her.

"Here, don't force it," He put both arms around her, taking her hands to stop her from ripping the fabric.

Sandra thought she was going to melt. He was so close, so warm, and he smelled of sandalwood. Was that aftershave, she wondered, or did he always smell that good?

"The edge is caught in the teeth," Michael told her. "Pull it back a little bit."

Sandra leaned back into him, her bare back touching his crisp, white T-shirt, and the strong, lean frame beneath it.

"I meant the zipper," Michael laughed.

"Oh. Right," Sandra tugged at the vinyl cloth while he tugged the zipper back. It came free, and Michael was able to reverse direction, and finish zipping the window flap all the way shut.

"There ya go," he patted her on the shoulder and started to back his way out of the tent.

"Mr. Peters, wait!" Sandra lunged toward her beach bag, and brought out a tube of sun block lotion. "Could you, umm, maybe do my back?"

Michael knew this was asking for trouble, but she already had her back turned toward him and was pulling her long, black hair out of the way. She was crouching in the tent. They both had to because the tent ceiling was so low.

"I don't want to get burned," she waved the sunscreen tube in one hand.

"Sure," Michael mustered, as nonchalantly as he could. He came back into the tent, the door flap swishing down behind him.

Sandra was kneeling on her sleeping back, which was spread across an inflatable mattress.

"Air mattress? You gals aren't exactly roughing it, are you?" he chuckled.

"Oh, I like it rough." Sandra smiled, "Just not when I'm camping."

The girl was playing him, Michael realized. He grabbed the sunscreen, squeezed a large amount on his hand, and then started working it into her skin. He started at tops of her shoulder and neck, and paused when he saw that her top bikini string was missing. He hadn't noticed Sandra untie it when pulling her hair over her shoulder.

Her skin was soft, warm, and the sunscreen lotion made it shine. Sandra arched her back, and reached behind to untie the lower strings of her bikini top. Michael noticed it fall to the mattress.

"I absolutely hate tan lines," she confessed.

Michael swallowed dryly. He was married, alone, in a tent, with a consenting but very young woman ... who had just taken off her bikini top.

Suddenly, Sandra shifted on the air mattress, throwing both of them off balance. She fell forward, now resting on her hands and knees. Michael kneeling fell forward too, grabbing both of her hips to keep from falling on top of her.

"Sorry," she picked up the sunscreen, which he had dropped, and handed it to him behind her back. She stayed in that position, on her hands and knees. "I slipped."

Michael decided he'd best finish this, and quickly. He squirted more of the white lotion onto her back, and started to work it in with both hands. Sandra swayed beneath his touch, moving with his rhythm, and allowing him to work the sunscreen in her back, and along the curve of her sides. She reached back with one hand, and tugged at the left side string of her bikini bottom. It came undone. Michael pretended not to notice. She repeated the same motion on the other side. Now, the only thing holding her bikini bottom in place was gravity. Michael stopped.

Sandra flipped her hair around over her shoulder, looked back at him and winked. "Keep going," she said, in a soft, sultry voice.

Michael squirted a small amount of the cream on Sandra's lower back. He was just going to finish this little bit, and then scoot out of here.

Sandra was on her hands and knees, looking back at him. She wiggled her bum back and forth, and the skimpy bikini bottom slide down an inch. Her tan lines were clearly visible, and the sight of her paler tone skin sent a thrill through him. Sandra wiggled again, and her bikini bottom slipped completely off.

Michael watched as the garment slowly slid off her derriere. More and more of her ass was exposed, until the fabric fell to the ground. He noticed that the inside of the girl's bikini bottom was moist, and gasped. Sandra, he realized, was wet with pleasure from his touch. That sent another thrill up his spine. The sunscreen tube slipped from his hands as he gripped her hips tightly.

"Now this is interesting," Sandra purred.

At that moment, there was a shout from the back porch. It was his niece.

"Sandra!" Michelle called down. "Let's go! I want to get a good spot on the beach."

Michael froze.

Sandra flipped over to her back. She was completely naked now, lying on her sleeping bag. Her breasts were full, the nipples hard and at full-attention. The tan lines were more subtle on her chest, and Michael surmised that she often sun-bathed topless. Sandra watched as Michael's eyes gobbled her up.

She lifted one leg and brought it around, so that she was straddling Michael while he knelt over her.

"I'm getting sun screened," Sandra shouted back. She looked into Michael's eyes, while tracing her fingertips along the curves of both breasts. Her fingers slid lower, across the flat of her tummy, down past her bikini bottom tan line, and stopping short of her perfectly shaved pussy. Michael couldn't tear his eyes away from their movement.

Sandra called out, "I'll be coming soon."

"Ok," Michelle called, "I'll meet you there. Oh, Mom made French Toast and sausages, grab some before you come down."

"Mmm," she whispered, for Michael's ears only, "grabbing some sausage sounds like a great idea, don't you think?"

The sliding screen door on the back porch slammed shut, and that snapped Michael from his trance.

"Sandra, you're going to make some boy very, very happy," Michael said, and then quickly left the tent. Sandra tried to wrap her legs around him, but he was strong. He was out of the tent, but not before Sandra caught a glimpse of the bulge in his shorts. She'd had an effect on him, that was certain.

* * * * * *

Sandra heard his retreating footsteps, and pouted. He wasn't coming back. She rolled over, dug around in her overnight bag, and pulled out something long and blue. It was a vibrator. She nestled back on the air mattress, and brought the blue sex toy to her lips.

Sandra kissed the vibrator softly, almost reverently, and then took the bulbous head into her mouth. She sucked on it, like a lollipop, and let it roll across her tongue. She had cleaned it thoroughly after her last use, but she could still taste herself on the surface.

When the head of the vibrator was wet with saliva, she sent it down between her legs. Sometimes, she liked to tease the vibrator over her neck, nipples, and the flat of her belly ... but not now. Michael's departure had been torture, and she needed immediate gratification.

She rubbed the head of the vibrator across the lips of her pussy, up and down her slit several times. With a practiced flick of her thumb, the vibrator hummed to life. She didn't pause, she simply plunged the tool deep into her pussy. She squeezed her muscles tight around the knobby device, pushing it out slowly. Then she gripped her hands around the shaft and thrust it back in again.

Sandra spread her legs wide, and moaned as ripples of pleasure passed through her.

"Oh, Michael," she cried. "I. Am. Going. To. Fuck. You. Hard."

With each word, Sandra drove the vibrating rod deeper and deeper into her pussy. Her hand motions became faster, thrusting the hummer in and out.

"Oh, god," Sandra was caught up fully in the rapture now, "Fuck, yes. FUCK ME!"

She flicked the vibrator off, and threw it to the side, finishing herself off with her fingers. The orgasm ripped through her while she finger-strummed her clit fast and hard. She had to bite down on her pillow, to keep from screaming. Tears streamed down her cheeks, as stars exploded behind eyelids, tightly shut.