Vacation Rental Ch 03

*Thanks for reading! I've been using erotic writing as a way to 'unplug' the pipes (such as they are) to write more often, non-erotically. And it's been working! It's very easy to write when one is excited and then get back to writing normal everyday not erotic fiction.

That said I'd love any feedback on tone, structure, pacing, feel, even spelling. I am my own editor. Eek!

If you're looking for something quick, this is not that story. Some of my favorite stories here are the ones with slow, tense buildups, so I'm trying to recreate that here.

Hope you enjoy! Please leave any feedback as a comment or via email by clicking on my username. Thanks again for reading!*

***

"Mis ish demishness."

Matt meant "This is delicious," but it was hard to make out words when his mouth was so full of food. Karen looked at him while tilting her head, smiling in a way that said, "Really?" Embarrassment swept through Matt. Of course, he shouldn't speak with his mouth full. He swallowed.

"This is delicious," he said, properly, and Karen's head and smile shifted just a bit, in a way that washed away Matt's embarrassment, replacing it with the lull of a soft warmth.

God, how could she be both maternal and so wildly attractive at the same time?

Though, truth be told, he could hardly be blamed for talking with his mouth full. He was eating the best food he'd ever tasted. They'd eaten so much, and he was still hungry. He'd never been this insatiable.

Everything, not just the food, was perfect.

Including the weather. It was a cool evening, just enough below room temperature to feel it. A slight wind drifted up and over the walls and into the villa and seemed to linger in the enclosed space. Matt and Anna were sitting on a comfortable bench attached to the villa wall, across from Karen and Jack; Karen, next time to him, and Jack next to Anna.

Between them was a full table of food. The third course.

It was a full end to a full day. Matt and Anna had followed Karen's earlier suggestions word-for-word. After the tea, Karen had made a smoothie for both of them (his was peach flavored) and sent them to the workout space downstairs.

Working out was a good idea. Though they enjoyed working out together back home, they rarely had the time. They worked out together about as often as they'd gone on dates - which was to say, not very often. It felt nice to exercise together again.

There was also something different about working out here on the island. It was easier. Maybe it was the lack of work stress or the time change or the island air, but Matt felt like he could exercise for hours.

It helped that Anna looked so damn good while working out. Matt realized he'd never admired Anna while working out. Sure, yes, Anna was always attractive. But always this sensual? This sexual? While *working out*?

Certainly not then. But now, on the island? Oh, hell yes. From the machines in the back of the exercise room, he'd thoroughly enjoyed watching Anna's breasts bounce happily as she jogged on the treadmill.

Her ass looked amazing too, in the tight exercise pants. Every once in a while Anna would turn and Matt would stand a little higher over the machines in an effort to see her torso and crotch. Sure enough, the tight fabric pushed in just at her cleft, creating a slight but visible valley.

Anna looked perfect in the clothes, even if they'd had to borrow the workout clothes from Karen and Jack.

At first, Matt declined because it felt odd to sweat in what looked like such expensive workout clothing. But Karen had insisted and sent them off. "Nonsense. You'll wear them of course. They're yours now. We can always buy more. They're just clothes," she said with a shrug, returning to her residence through the hall door.

Matt was sure that Anna hadn't even bothered to put on underwear under the exercise pants.

All of this made it much easier to work the weights machines while he stole glances, or climb faster on the stair machine.

He had something to work for.

After working out, Anna and Matt went back upstairs for a shower. Matt was so wound up from watching Anna bounce and stretch and bend over that as soon as she turned on the water, and smelling the saltiness of her sweat, he immediately moved on her in the shower, kissing her briefly on the neck to at least give the appearance of foreplay.

But neither of them wanted just foreplay. Anna grabbed the tussle of his dark brown hair and pushed his head further downward. Matt's lips followed the trail of falling water down Anna's hair, her neck, her cleavage, to her belly button, and finally, to his ultimate goal: her pussy.

Lines of water gathered just where her pussy lips met at the bottom, then joined in the little curls of pussy hair, then dripped down to the floor, glistening in the beach sun shining in from a window.

But the second he knelt on the tiled floor and hungrily moved towards Anna, the door to the apartment unlocked and swung open. In walked a man toting a bucket and some brooms and mops. Matt suddenly became aware of the transparent glass walls of the bathroom and shower and he stood, nervously looking for a way to quickly cover up.

Anna though didn't seem to mind. She laughed, and "awww-ed," disappointed that Matt had given up so quickly. "I wanted you to dig in there," she said, cupping his balls and giving a little squeeze. Matt smiled, cringed actually, awkwardly looking between the visitor and Anna. He quickly finished washing in the shower, keeping his back to the visitor, then stepped around Anna, and stepped out, leaving Anna to shower naked. She took her time, sometimes looking at over Matt and smiling and winking.

The visitor, who had set to cleaning the kitchen, was paying no mind.

By the time Anna was out of the shower and dried off, Matt had already dressed. Anna did the same, both of them donning clothes they brought from home: t-shirts and jeans. They were about to walk out for the shopping district when the man stopped scrubbing the floors, stopped them. He looked them over.

"Hello. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lionel. I work for Ms. Karen and Jack," he said. "You are eating with Ms. Karen and Jack tonight?" he asked.

"Yes, we are," answered Anna, as Lionel walked towards them from the kitchen.

Lionel tsk-ed. "You might be able to get around town like that," he said, looking them over, "But you should not eat dinner with them in, well, this," his hand swept over their forms. "If I may."

Uh oh, thought Matt. There was no way they could afford the kind of clothes needed to impress Karen, or, presumably, Jack. But Lionel waved him off as if reading his mind. "You go. I will set out some clothes out for you, don't you worry."

"Ok," said Anna, before Matt could protest.

Lionel smiled a big smile and went back to work.

"Thank you, Lionel," said Anna, smiling back.

***

The shopping turned out to be little more than window shopping, involving very little actual purchasing. It wasn't for lack of want; everything in the shops was of amazing quality. It didn't just feel expensive, the clothes and the food and the clay sculptures and the art; it all felt like it deserved whatever it cost. But after asking about a price for the sixth time, Anna and Matt realized that when something did not have price tags, it meant they could not afford it. Which was every store.

Even though Matt was enjoying the walk and the weather and being with Anna, he couldn't shake the feeling of not-belonging. Matt felt out of place in almost every way possible. The clothes were part of it; Lionel had been perhaps too polite; Matt and Anna barely passed muster out here. But it wasn't just their clothes. Everyone else around them tended to be either older, or wealthier, or younger, and most certainly classier, and usually a combination of all of the above. Their clothes were different, their mannerisms different; all of it, everything about everyone was more refined than Matt and Anna.

Anna recognized some of the people. A famous actor in one store, a model in another, an architect in yet another store, a renowned performance artist eating one of the local ice treats, a Senator sipping an espresso at a cafe table and flirting with a younger man.

It also didn't help that Matt couldn't actually focus on shopping. His eyes kept drifting to Anna, and specifically to her crotch, at the place where her jeans came together tightly, in a V. Her jeans weren't tight by any measure, these weren't island clothes, so Matt found himself imagining her jeans getting a little tighter, and a little more, and just a little more, tight enough that it would indent the soft lines of her pussy lips, like the exercise pants had cradled her pussy lips while working out. Matt wanted to stare forever at the valley of Anna's pussy. He wanted to dive into the V and lose himself in her valley.

Staring became a thing. Anna would be turning over a piece of clothing or looking at a piece of art, and Matt would be a few feet away looking intently downward at her. Anna would catch him staring, which she'd return with a big smile and then reciprocate by looking down at his crotch.

They could not keep their eyes off each other.

And if it had just been each other, it'd be cute. Honeymoon-esque.

But it wasn't just Anna that captured his gaze. If she was in another corner of a store, or in the bathroom, or in a dressing room trying on an outfit (they could never afford), Matt's eyes wandered to other women. Everyone on the island was attractive, and most of the women weren't wearing much anyway; swimsuits mostly.

Matt found himself inventing mental games to avoid staring at damn near everyone: stare at the fire alarm on the wall, stare at the street outside, stare at his watch.

His strategy rarely worked. And every time it didn't work, every time someone caught him staring, he felt skeezy and sketchy and creepy, shameful even, which only compounded the feeling of not belonging.

The most gregarious example happened in a clothing store called "Perso," yet another store sans price tags. Anna was in the back trying something on. Matt was leaning against one of the clothing racks, trying to find a fire alarm on the wall or some other totally non-sexualized boring object. Luckily there weren't many people in the store, and even though the clerk was quite attractive, she was doing some price checking behind a counter, which made things a little easier for Matt to not stare at a strangers' crotch.

But then the store's front door swung open, light streamed in from outside, and in walked a beautiful, young, tall, slender women, set against the sun from outside, her shadow stretching long across the floor. The few patrons in the shop and the clerk looked up. It was as if she and the sun were working in concert, the sun illuminating and accentuating her frame with shining radiance. She tilted her head down, scanned the room through her sunglasses, and with a sweep of her arm she took off her big straw beach hat. With her other hand, she swiped off her sunglasses and again inspected the store. It shouldn't have worked, really. It felt so dramatic.

But it worked. Matt couldn't not stare. Entrance aside, the woman's presence commanded attention, her blonde hair done up in a tight bun in a way that accentuated her heavily freckled shoulders. The thin material of a barely-there bikini top flanked her perfect shoulders. Her see-through silk cover-up swam through the air like a graceful jellyfish as she stepped into the store, one tall leg in front of the other.

And try as he might, Matt could not avert his eyes from looking downward at her bikini bottom. God he tried. He was literally mouthing, "do not look down, do not look down." But it didn't work. It was as if someone had tied anchors to his eyeballs that only eased their pull when he was staring at pussy. Matt studied her bikini bottom, a floral, cross-back bikini, with a triangle of material connected around her upper waist by three strands. It fit perfectly.

She was, obviously, shaven.

Matt's knees buckled, a little, and he grabbed onto the clothing rack to balance himself. What was happening? His brain was running in overtime, forgetting even to stand, and instead, his brain was imagining Matt running and falling to his knees on the floor in such a way that when he skidded to a stop in front of the woman, his mouth was already licking and devouring her smooth pussy through the silky material of the bikini.

He wanted to feel the material moisten, not just with his hungry saliva on one side, but with her own wetness on the other side. He wanted their wetnesses to meet in the middle. He wanted to taste the salt of whatever ocean water she'd been swimming in, then lick enough to taste the saltiness of her pussy; he wanted to lick it up, to drink from its well of her pussy, through the swimsuit like it was a filter; to taste the fabric and the salt, until his tongue was pushing the fabric up into her valley until it found the resistance of a hardened clit.

He gathered the umption to look away, he willed it to happen, and he legitimately was about to look away - but he was too late. The woman caught him looking at her - she looked straight at Matt. There was no hiding this one. He was clearly checking out her cunt. His heart dropped. Like a kid caught in a cookie jar, he slowly looked up from the bikini bottom and met her bright piercing eyes.

Matt didn't know what to expect; gazingly wantonly at women was new enough. Getting caught looking at other women, like some creepy old guy, was an entirely new experience. He could almost hear her footsteps and feel the sting of her slap on his cheek.

But neither the footsteps nor the slap ever happened.

Instead, the freckled woman just smiled at Matt and winked, as dramatically as she'd entered, and then flourished a turn on her high heel sandals and proceeded into the store.

Matt was confused. Had she *liked* being looked at like that, with such wanton lust? What world was this place even?

In fact, the woman kept walking into places in the store where Matt would get a better view, in an obvious way. She was actively teasing him, smiling a bit here and there as she walked from aisle to aisle, reveling in Matt's attention.

Normally Matt would've walked away, outside; well, normally Matt wouldn't have stared at all. But today and here were different. So Matt made an unusual decision: If she wanted to be looked at, fine. He would look. It was like a mutually beneficial feedback loop; she'd given him permission to admire her, and so admire her he would.

When she would walk into the same aisle as Matt and reach for an item on the top shelf, he stared. When she walked into another aisle and dropped her sunglasses and bent over, slowly, her taut ass pointing directly at him, pushing against the fabric, creating another kind of wonderfully valley, he shifted and angled his standing position so he could watch.

Matt licked his lips. God, was he really salivating?

He was licking his lips when he heard an Owen-Wilson-like "wow" from behind him. He turned to look. It was Anna, walking up from the dressing rooms.

Matt jumped a little and his heart sank yet again. He'd been caught staring at another woman.

What a roller coaster of a day.

"I'm sorry," he began to explain.

"For what?" Anna interrupted him. She stepped around him, in front of him, and turned to him. Matt was still facing the younger woman, now with Anna standing in front of him, close. He opened his mouth to start to explain, but she put her finger on his lips to stop him from talking.

"Shhh. It's ok, hot stuff," she said, as she turned her head and looked over at the women from across the store. "I'd have looked too," she said. "In fact, I've *been* looking. Although not just at her," she said, nodding down Matt's own crotch. His hard-on was visibly straining against the jeans. Again. Jesus.

She stepped up on her toes, pulling in closer to Matt and her breasts pushed into him, feeling firmer than usual. Her torse pushed against his cock, sandwiching it between her and him. Matt's erection hardened impossibly more. He felt like if he just pushed upward, his cock could almost single-handedly lift Anna's frame upwards.

She moved her lips to his ear, as his cock pushed into her.

"Look at her Matt," she said. He did. The woman was trying on a shimmery silver beach shawl that covered up her waist and legs. She posed in front of the mirror. She looked amazing; her tall legs were visible through the slightly transparent shawl, her ass sticking out just a bit from the folds of the fabric, perfect curves everywhere.

What was happening here? Could Anna feel how quick his heart was beating?

"Are you looking at her Matt?" Anna whispered into his ear. Was there a wrong answer to this question? Yes. Of course, there was.

He felt like he was butter melting under her hot breath.

He told Anna the truth, in almost a growl. "Yes. I'm looking at her." The woman turned around, now watching Matt, and Anna, watch her. She put on her sunglasses, seemingly about to leave, but then let the beach shawl fall, as if by accident, and there she was again in what was barely a swimsuit. She stood, without moving, watching them watch her, and smiled.

"Do you like looking at her, Matt," Anna whispered again, her hand now squarely on his hard-on, in full view of the woman.

"Yes," he heaved, quietly.

"What, exactly, are you looking at Matt. Tell me." Anna asked.

His breath left him. His heart was going to explode. "Her pussy. I'm looking at her pussy," he said, quietly.

"What are you thinking right now Matt?" Anna said, again with a whisper, this time pushing her body closer into Matt so he had to step back. Her breasts pushed against his chest again; her nipples were as hard as his cock.

"I," he stumbled," I am thinking," he started, trying to put raw lust into words. But he couldn't finish. He breathed in, trying to answer.

He was going to faint. He was sure of it. Right there. It was all too much.

And then: "Let's go, Matt," said Anna, smiling, falling back on her heels, spinning around, all in one move, and as if in concert the other woman smiled and turned around.

Matt breathed out. It felt like he'd been holding his breath underwater for hours.

Matt realized that with Anna now several steps ahead of him, his hard-on had pushed back out into his jeans, broadcasting its existence to everyone in the room, including the young woman. Matt coughed loudly, as if that helped, stepped forward, and almost tripped on the leg of a clothing rack trying to catch up with Anna.

The woman and the clerk giggled. As Matt walked towards Anna, who was now at the exit, Matt smiled awkwardly. His face felt red, hot.

Anna opened the door to leave, Matt behind her like a lost puppy, and Anna leaned sideways and glanced back at the woman, who in turn looked back at her. Anna smiled, and mouthed "You're hot," to her. Matt couldn't believe it.

It was like Anna was a totally different person. The woman winked and gave a little wave, and Anna walked outside. "See you soon," the woman called. Wait, what?

Matt shook his head in disbelief and followed.

For the rest of the shopping excursion, Anna kept running her hand past Matt's perpetually hard cock, accidentally-not-accidentally. Matt kept trying to readjust in his jeans so that his seemingly everlasting hard-on wasn't noticeable. His adjustments didn't work.

His tall cock was always visible, so Matt now had to invent a new game: hide the hard-on. He spent most of the rest of the shopping trip ducking behind counters or clothing or sitting in chairs and leaning forward or hiding behind poles. None of it worked. Anna kept staring down at his dick. Other people shot glances his way, men and women. both A few smiled or winked or said hello.