A Mississippi Kite - Sex Stories

A Mississippi Kite

............ With some help from my friend Leitha...........

It had begun by accident, really. Or at least that's what she told herself when she recalled the incidents.

Bo heard the tires crunch on the oyster shell drive way, heard the music turned up loud pouring from the speakers before the driver killed the engine.

He stood back from the window shade, watched he woman step out of the Mustang, raise her arms above her head, lock her hands together, arch her back, stretch, push her pelvic forward. Her tits, her nipples push out against the thin summer blouse. Heat flowed into his loins, his limp penis took note of the woman's long tanned legs, the spread of her thighs.

He saw her open the trunk, retrieve two canvas bags, loop the straps of a pair of binoculars over her shoulder. She picked up the bags, walked toward the next door bungalow. He watched her unlock her unlock the door, watched the white of her shorts against the darker color of her skin.

"Hope she ain't got a man showing up later," he thought.

Bo watched the bungalow, knew the woman would come out soon, the beach right there calling to her. Then he saw it, the upstairs curtain move, the flash of sun touch the binoculars lens.

"It's time," he said to himself, grabbed a towel, headed to the shower just between the dunes and the steps leading up to the Johnson house. He turned on the shower, tested the flow and heat of the water.

She had been sweeping the sky with her binoculars, looking for ...

... that elusive Mississippi Kite that had reportedly been sighted in the area. Just as she was giving up and lowering her binoculars, they fell on the nearly naked brown body of a man. He was preparing the outdoor shower and blithely unaware of her eyes on him. He seemed to be softly singing to himself. She knew she should turn away... this was a private thing - and beach manners demanded it - but she couldn't.

Careful not to look toward the woman's vantage point he pushed down his trunks down to his ankle, stepped out of them. His back toward the bungalow he lathered his hair, his chest, down his long athletic legs, his buttocks. He turned a quarter turn, feeling her eyes on his naked body, feeling his cock begin to go hard. Ran his hands over his erection, underneath his balls. He lazily stroked up and down the length, saved the real pleasure for later.

Leitha had known someone was staying in the Johnson's house for the week, but had not been particularly curious about it. They often rented out the house to friends and relatives. Leitha was always careful not to get drawn into "drinks" as it usually resulted in her becoming a tour guide for whoever.

This, however, was very different. Leitha drew back a bit from the window. She watched as he lathered up his body and nonchalantly dropped his bathing suit around his ankles. He languidly moved his hands over his neck, his chest and finally to the rather significant cock that was hanging between his thighs. As he began to ...