X turns the spigot to the outdoor shower off and grabs the towel off the wooden rack to dry his hair and face. The warm sun rays splash across his body, inviting him to lie down on the chaise for some sunbathing. He lets out a deep sigh. His thoughts keep circling back to Jill. I can’t go five minutes without thinking about her. What is it? I’m a man-whore with nearly 30 years of widowed clientele, but this one is under my skin in an unexplainable way.
He picks up his phone, unconsciously opens his contacts, and presses “J”; automatically, a picture of a blindfolded Jill pops up. Per the terms of his engagement, Jill is always blindfolded when they are together. X has never seen Jill’s eyes, and Jill has never seen him. All she knows for sure is she loves his goateed face. X knows he’s looked at this picture more often than he likes to admit. He consciously dismisses the single thought that keeps arising. I wonder what she’s doing right now.
Her freakishly familiar walk-away ass certainly grabbed his attention early in their arrangement. Still, it’s Jill’s easy laugh and confident demeanor that had gotten deep under his skin on their first date and awoken something deep within his psyche. Jill Robinson is an undeniably courageous widow who understands physical touch, any taboo withstanding, is merely a gateway to some eternal plane she thrives in. Does she know how deeply she has touched me?
A light breeze brushes across his nipples in the warm sun. She has this presence, even in memory— that softens every room she’s in. He runs a hand over his jaw and chuckles to himself, then slides his hand down to his cock. Why is she in my head so much?
X’s thumb hovers over the ‘Dial’ icon. I wonder what she’s doing right now…
_____________
Jill sets the oven to preheat to 375 degrees as she talks on the phone with her best friend, Marsha. “I’m baking cookies for when the grands come by this afternoon,” she says, just as a beep and a notification signal an incoming call from Mr. X.
“Marsh, hold on a sec. I need to take this,” Jill says. “Hello?”
Seductively, X asks, “What are you doing right now?”
Jill pauses, smiles, and answers playfully, “I’m preheating my oven. What are you doing?”
“I’m thinking about you,” X replies. “Would you like some help heating up that oven of yours?”
Jill glances at the four racks of raw chocolate-chip cookie dough dollops spread across the countertop and says, “Hold that thought. I’ll be right back.”
Switching lines, she says, “Marsha, I need to go. I’ll call you later. OK—bye.”
Returning to X, Jill asks, “Now, where were we?” She puts the phone on speaker and sets it on the Amish oak kitchen table.
“We were talking about how hot your oven is,” X says. “Would you like an extra hand right now?”
Jill unbuttons her jeans and slides them—along with her panties—down over her ass, kicking them off her feet. “Well, I am short-staffed right now. I’d welcome a free hand… maybe two. Tell me what you see.”
“I walk into the kitchen and find you at the sink,” he says. “You’re only wearing an apron, and your glorious bare ass is begging for attention. I step up behind you and press my hard cock against your ass cheeks while I reach around and cup your breasts.”
“Mmm…” Jill murmurs, eyes closed, lying back on the kitchen table with her feet planted on the bench seat. She begins cupping her breasts and pinching her nipples through her light pink sweater. “Tell me more.”
“I love feeling my cock against your ass,” he whispers.
“Oh my, sir,” Jill purrs. “I wasn’t expecting anyone this early. The staff will be arriving soon… we could get caught!”
“I understand,” X replies. “I’m just here to check your oven. I move one hand down inside your apron to your inner thigh, drawing my fingernails upward toward your juicy oven.”
“Mmm…” Jill moans, her fingernails manifesting his words up her thigh, inching slowly toward her luscious honeypot. “Tell me more,” she whispers.
“I drop my other hand under your apron and press my index fingers together, squeezing the outer folds of your pussy into one another. Now I'm slowly massaging up and down. It’s like kindling—setting the stage for a hot, burning fire.”
“Mmm…” Jill purrs.
X continues, “I take your right hand and place it on your pussy lips. Tell me," he asks, "Is your pussy wet to touch?”
“Yes,” Jill whispers. “I’m so hot. My pussy is so wet for you right now. Would you like a taste? Would you like a lick?”
“Mmm… you taste magnificent,” X moans. “I love the wet clicks and your soft moans when you play with yourself. I’m now stroking my cock as I trail wet kisses down your neck… your shoulders… your hips…”
Jill’s pussy juices begin to flow as she rubs her clit with one hand and slides two fingers inside with the other. She whispers, “Tell me what you’re doing now.”
X whispers back, “I’m on my knees, your ass cheeks spread in my kneading hands, my tongue is flicking lower… to your bum hole.”
“Ohh… It’s nice. Really nice,” Jill says, breathless, her fingers intensifying their pressure and rhythm in her wetness.
“I can feel your oven's temperature rising, your hips writhing, as I eat your ass,” he groans. “I love how my tongue and your flicking fingers are the perfect recipe to heat your oven. I want to hear you cum.”
Indecipherable moans and panting breaths fill the airwaves.
“Arr…” Jill's moaning gets louder as she furiously finger-fucks herself.
“Ohh!… JILL!” X cries into the phone.
“Arr!… I’m CUMMING!” Jill screams.
Buzz!
The oven signals it’s hot enough to bake.
“Oh my God, X,” Jill says breathlessly, “you can check my oven anytime. But I gotta get these cookies in! And thanks for the call!”
____________
Click. The line goes dead. As X contemplates the splatter pattern of cum across his tanned torso that resembles the Hawaiian archipelago, he closes his eyes and lies back. “Oh, Miss Jill. You got me good.”
