Chula Vista Dreaming (part two) - Sex Stories

Chula Vista Dreaming (part two)

... used perfume, but her Palmolive soap made her smell so clean and pure. She turned and smiled, and then quickly turned back, slapping my hands. "Please, Peter. Be careful. Your father's right there. You shouldn't be touching me like that anyway. You're being a bad boy, and you know it. Dinner is almost ready. Tell your father to sit down. I'll get the salad and bread if you get the stew." "Okay, boss. Whatever you say. Where are the pot holders?" She pointed over to the counter as she picked up the salad bowl and the plate of bread. I couldn't help but watch her walking away. Her rounded hips and buttocks swayed with a naturally compelling motion. I felt my prick stirring, but I couldn't get hard now. I got the pot of stew and followed her, calling out to Dad. Dad told her during the meal that he was going fishing again. She glanced at me, and I saw a slight blush. Her napkin went to her scarlet lips, and I grinned to myself. My appetite became stronger, for the stew, and for Cindy. I ate well that evening. I was hungry. I heard Dad getting ready to go out again the next morning. I didn't arise and see him off this time. I was too hard right now, thinking of the day ahead. My hopes were strong, as were my urges. My cock was so fucking stiff. I slowly stroked it. Some pre-cum leaked out. I stopped because I didn't want to cum that way. Not today. The shower awoke me later. I had gone back to sleep. Cindy was up and I would be too, soon. I put on some jeans, and a tee shirt. ...

... It was warm enough now. It never really got too cold around here. Freezing temperatures were big news. I didn't bother to put on my jockey shorts. I wanted to feel free today. My cock hung down the left side of my pant leg. Not too big, but it made me feel awfully good, all of the same. There had been a drizzle during the night. The streets were still damp as I looked out the front window, but kids were out already playing in the puddles. I touched my prick as I waited for Cindy to come in. She was always up by now to fix breakfast. I wondered why she was late today. I had heard the shower stop about twenty minutes ago. She came into the front room. She was wearing one of her sundresses. It was sleeveless, and her bare arms were smooth and ivory in color. Her hair was still damp I could see. She was letting it air dry. But I could tell she had left off the bra today. She did that sometimes in hot weather. It wasn't that hot today. Her legs were long and curvy. She hadn't bothered to put on shoes. Her bare feet were small, and dainty. "Are you ready for breakfast Peter? Why don't you come in and help me this morning." Turning on her heel she went through the arch and into the kitchen. I followed her, glad to spend time with her. Any time at all. It pleased me to just be near her. Alone, as we were now, was better of course. We made short work of getting the breakfast made and then eaten. We chatted about school as we ate. And she kept glancing up and looking into my eyes. Then ...