A young woman and a drop-dead gorgeous man of means in intimate steamy ardour
Sandra loved pets.
Her dog Rusty, a Scottish terrier, was super faithful, unlike cheating, untrustworthy guys. She had recently come off another bad experience and lost a girlfriend as well, who had shagged her guy behind her back.
She really was at a loose end for the University summer break.
So, when the opportunity came up to run a small mobile business while her uncle was taking a holiday overseas for two weeks after perpetual nagging from his wife that they hadn't had a break in years.
The pitfalls of a sole small business operator nearly slapping him in the face. He handed the van to Sandra and knew his regular clients and their much-loved canine companions were in good hands.
Sandra was quickly occupied with her new job, which helped stop the brooding preoccupation with recently cheating Seth. Another name struck off from her list if she ever married and had a boy of her own.
Some days were jam-packed with regular bookings and occasional new customers. The interaction with the dogs was what really made it a top job, besides being your own boss.
She was happiest with the shampooing, lathering, blow drying, and grooming. Dogs trusted her.
It never crossed Sandra's mind that the job might lead to sex with a customer. The customers were all aged pensioners who loved their pets but couldn't clean or groom them anymore. They enjoyed the regular visits and company, too. They were actually complimenting Sandra on her genial personality and natural affinity with their pets.
Sandy had the romantic notion that she would meet Mr Right …walking Rusty in the local park by the river.
She pictured leashes getting tangled like — One Hundred and One Dalmatians — and love just following from there …of course, Mr Right had a female terrier, so Rusty could also sire to his heart's content.
Her fantasy did extend beyond that under the doona at night in her skimpy silky pj's. She always squeezed her thighs tight, creating a delicious press on her own girly softness.
Sandy usually moistened her own lips and ran her tongue around them, then inserted two fingers in her own mouth…make believing they were male…her lover, then the wet digits were caressing her nipples in turn…again it was her beau…doing it right…how did he know the touch she liked…hard rubbing… then soft wet flicking… in turn.
She needed his tongue on her nipples, though…the sweet sucking of her elongated nipples…she pushed her own breast up towards her own mouth…she could just touch her nipple with her tongue…but it wasn't very comfortable…so she let her fingers meander south…imagining the new man in her life…tall, dark, handsome…movie star features…a bit a blur…but hard male…he was touching her furry pelt...
As he spread her dewy lips he would peel back her favourite high-cut, skimpy red lacey knickers.
She would murmur…mmm…so he knew he was doing it right.
By then, it was the blur of her own fingers circling her bud…its rigid delight responding to fingers…craving fingers quickening in their motion…yearning for faster touch…her body begging for an orgasm.
Her clit soliciting her fingers in promiscuous self-delight…the carnal wave compelling…the lust quest completed in incredible certainty…the plateau of defined pleasure…the ripple of identity through climax.
The stifled scream —fuck, she was Sandy, and being Sandy was great —
After that, sleep was always easy…so easy after orgasm…so easy to dream…after the frisky feverish fondle under the sheets.
After finishing another busy day and before spending time with Rusty….Sandra checked the answering machine in her parent's home, where she still lived. It indicated there was a new customer to be fitted in tomorrow.
A bit rude, insisting tomorrow, she thought.
There was an urgency to the grooming request in the authoritative female voice. It definitely didn't sound like a happy owner. The dog needed to be groomed for a prospective interstate client interested in mating with the Royal Easter Show-winning dog.
The dog was very valuable, and this service had been recommended. Would they please call back before nine this evening to confirm tomorrow morning? The caller was Ms Morrison.
Sandra's initial thought was, 'Stuff you…you arrogant bitch… do it yourself.'
Usually, she was given a notice of a few days.
However, she was a bit intrigued — she had never had the opportunity to groom a pedigree prestigious show-winning canine. So she threw Rusty a dog chew and called back.
"Ms Morrison is speaking for Wright Industrial. How may I help you?"
Well, the bitch could be polite if she wanted to be, was Sandra's first thought.
"It's Sandy Hastings from Groom Perfection here. I'm returning your call about a dog grooming for tomorrow — Miss Morrison. "
The Miss bit was deliberate — take a little bit of the piss out of the woman.
"Are you able to groom tomorrow?"
Sandy replied: "Probably—but I will need an address and the dog type before I make a final decision—Mrs Morrison."
Let's see if she bites on that one, Sandy thought.
"Ms Hastings, the dog is Duke Clarence, a pedigree Great Dane. The address is —The Views — Bay Road."
Sandy suddenly realised this was the exclusive end of the exclusive end of town.
No wonder the woman spoke like she had a dildo up her arse.
However, she held her composure and said," Yes…eight thirty …okay."
"It could be earlier if you like," responded Ms Morrison.
"Okay …sure…confirm…seven thirty then."
"Thank you…seven thirty is confirmed…please use the trades entrance and parking area at the back…the entrance is on the left …the work gate code for tomorrow is 4554… thank you, and goodbye."
Rusty needed some bonding time, so Sandy didn't have much time to think beyond — a Great Dane is a lot of dog.
...….
Sandy was there around 7:15, punching in the access code.
She had been up since six, prepping the mobile wash bay at the back of the van. Realising this job would have to take place outside the van, she hoped there was a paved area with good runoff.
The day was great.
It was high summer, bathed in warmth already. It was set to be a scorcher.
The views were stunning, even from the palm-lined driveway.
She could see out over Midway Cove. Then the access drive curved around to the service area, a discrete building separate from the main mansion but connected, it seemed, by a covered walkway.
Sandy parked and approached the clearly sign-posted door —Service and Delivery.
This was posh —
No, it was snobbery.
Then she saw the surveillance camera…well, cameras—and felt like flipping the bird at one.
She held her composure.
This could be a regular client for her and the business. Her uncle might expand to two vehicles, and she could work part-time —
The thought train interrupted as —
The door opened before she got to it — probably the gate's surveillance.
It was Ms Morrison with a goddamn name tag.
So the bitch was just snooty hired help —but as they say —better the she-devil you know…than —
"Ms Hastings …good to see you punctual…please follow me…"
"Actually, it's Miss Hastings, if you don't mind,"
Sandy wasn't into that over-feminised lib stuff.
She was single and was happy to advertise it.
However, when she saw the kennel set-up, she could have slapped the bitch —Miss, Ms or Mrs —Duke Clarence had a kennel area the size of her parent's frickin house —including a cleaning bay complete with a spray jet and blow drying equipment.
It made the gear in her van look second-rate, yet it was top-notch.
"Ms Hastings…I have additional appointments in town. You won't be disturbed. Your remuneration will be by direct banking business transfer. Again, thank you. And please, your discretion is taken as given not to leave this area and leave the premises promptly when you finish. Good day."
The virago of a woman had the semblance of outward manners — nearly —but her voice gave her away.
Sandy flipped the bird at Ms Morrison as she walked away —screw the cameras — wherever they were.
Ms Morrison was soon forgotten in the pleasure and delight of getting to know Duke Clarence.
Sandy and the Duke hit it off.
There was instant mutual trust, and unlike most dogs, he really enjoyed the lather and wash. This was great because Sandy could not force the issue on the wash or groom, given his size.
The Duke was a gentleman.
Sandy was talking up The Duke — out loud — alone and confident in her work.
Spraying his coat —the final rinse… —with —" Oh… you are a handsome guy, and aren't you well hung… you stud…I bet you please all the bitches after you take in a good sniff of them in your kennel —I reckon you —"
From behind herself, she heard… — "Handsome well-hung stud that sniffs and then pleases the bitch — at your service —"
Sandy turned with a fierce defensive look — how dare you listen in.
Still, her poise evaporated in the presence of a tall, dark, handsome, well-groomed male.
He was all the clichés
Six pack, tanned, waxed and packing it in the black speedos. No board shorts hiding an insecure appendage.
Sandy was staring. The Duke was wagging his tail.
The confident male was still drying himself off with a large white towel. There was a pool here somewhere, and then Sandy made the calculation. He was in his late twenties or early thirties — maybe — it didn't matter — he was drop-dead gorgeous!
"Apologies…that wasn't fair…I was coming to check on how things were going…our regular groomer has moved interstate…and well, to be honest…The Duke is super fussy…and won't tolerate unsure hands…so my compliments to you…The Duke really likes you —"
He extended his large hand, introducing himself," Xavier Wright…pleased to meet you…err…Miss?…"
"Miss Sandy Hastings and my pleasure too," she said, and she meant it.
She had the butterfly stomach moment as their hands met in a firm shake. He held her hand just a tad long.
However, Sandy didn't mind.—she didn't mind at all.
In fact, she held on until Xavier did the release.
She was young — still a student — maybe — he guessed — probably just twenty.
"Duke Clarence was my late mothers. Ms Morrison was her secretary —and well, mine now. I hope you negotiated her …"
"Yes…she was helpful," but Sandy knew her glance betrayed her.
"It's okay…your eyes tell me …she was her usual snarky self…she needs a man actually…I think…no, definitely."
Xavier held the second hose and joined Sandy in giving The Duke his final rinse.
Sandy went to sneak a peek at Xavier's smouldering, smoky grey eyes, which were already locked onto her face — now taking in her charming, cheeky chestnut orbs.
The impulsive, playful moment lurched with full force out of left field.
Sandy upped the water stream on her spray hose nozzle and gave Xavier the full blast on his expansive chest.
He rocked back just a bit.
His eyes lit up —not taken aback or surprised — more game on.
Xavier stepped away, taking a pounding of concerted, directed water on his back.
But he spun and gave a whipping body jet across Sandy's chest, soaking her white T-shirt and bra.
The coolness of the water made her nipples rigid — an instant wet T-shirt-winner look.
Xavier liked it.
He dropped his hose.
Not defeated but triumphant.
The invitation was in Sandy's eyes. Her hose was down, too.
Duke Clarence was sidelined for the first time in his precious pedigree life and didn't know what to do. He shook himself off vigorously and then lounged in the early heat of the high summer day.
Xavier took Sandy's hand and led her literally down the garden path —through well-screened dense foliage to the pool deck, stopping near the closet deck chair.
The sexual invitation was underway. Xavier nibbled her ear and then softly kissed her neck.
Her neck, which hadn't been kissed in a fair while — a forgotten erogenous zone as she realised her last boyfriend was actually a grunting groper — a good thing to now call ex.
This was sensual and nice —splashed kisses on her neck.
Xavier's hand was then inside her partially unbuttoned jeans, then inside her panties.
He delicately explored her intimate intricacies, building warm moisture in her cleft.
Sandy was relaxed.
Fully relaxed with his touch as his fingers sweetly savoured: giving her sultry slit satisfaction.
"Mmm, mmm," she moaned in appreciation.
He was kissing her everywhere.
Before removing her wet T-shirt and bra, he kissed her hands and exposed forearm.
He spread her top in the sun to dry.
Xavier met her breasts.
It was an instant friendship between her mounds and his large, open hands. He tenderly massaged her softness and handled her generous scoops of flesh like they were one-day-old puppies.
Xavier understood the demands of softness, the wants of softness, and the wishes of softness, especially as nipples harden.
He lavished kisses on her copious white jugs and their strawberry-tipped companions.
Sandy shut her eyes in expansive fem-pleasure.
Her jeans were off now. Only her panties to go.
Sandy's bliss was nearly ruined as she realised — Oh fuck!
She wore her old cottontails, big daggy panties — bottom stock in her drawer.
Wash day was tomorrow, and she felt embarrassed —this was no turn-on—
Xavier was on his knees using his teeth to lower her panties, surprised and delighted by their plainness — unexpected — like the groomer —when he first saw her pert arse washing; The Duke.
His teeth lowered her panties from her left hip. Then, her right hip.
Lower and lower.
Her mouth watered with the slow-growing anticipation. He was on the cusp of pushing her to unbearable waiting. Her pussy was sodden and sopping. Luckily, her panties were soaked with water; otherwise, her excitement would have been knickers evident.
Xavier was approaching his current focal point of interest, her trimmed brunette pubes.
Her panties were off — laid in the sun to dry.
He was in the anticipated delectable moment of knowing close up the unseen fleshy delight of a young woman.
All revealed. He would control the moment, and she would be waiting. He would build the tension, and she would still be waiting.
He chose the unbearably achingly yummy meandering path to her pussy.
Sandy loved it yet wanted the pace now; it seemed it would all happen quicker. The path from the kennel to the pool was so short, yet this moment was so long.
Sandy then realised — savour this — this is the perfect male touch on your body.
He stroked her inner thigh, kissed her inner thigh, and teased the edges of her crinkled coochie flesh while his other hand sensually explored her whole leg from calf to butt cheek.
Sheez — thought Sandy, who hadn't shaved her legs —she had been so busy.
It didn't stop Xavier, though.
He appreciated every minute aspect of her skin, including the fluffy down.
She was the girl of the moment…here now…sharing… that's all that matters.
He was touching her crumpled personal flesh inside and out now while he massaged her rump cheeks.
The tempo was up…he knew precisely when to raise it…her pussy building response…building a response like only an excited pussy can…boy does it create a response fast …boy does it love the attention…boy does it appreciate the excitement.
Sandy loved it. The touch… subsumed all….dominated all…, and became everything of herself…all in the moment.
Xavier's fingers built on previous leisurely under-the-sheet happiness. Her secretive longings, her sighing girly fantasies, transformed now into unabashed womanly needs in the present instant.
His tongue was then up close and personal with her soft, seeking silky secret parts.
Sandy's clit held at the moment all her sensual needs and all her sexual release.
Her bud delivered a double breathless caress —for him and her — breath held by two in the magic of consensual touch.
Xavier's licking, flicking and sucking was excitingly alluring to the giver …pleasurably delectable to the receiver …as her sexual happiness button delivered its promise. There was a convergence of desires. The desire to climax. The desire to give orgasm to another.
"Ooh, ooh," she murmured.
He eased her around, and she bent over the deck chair.
She was dogged. Genital clout and genital magic mixed like their own secret personal formula. They were generous givers to each other. Pleasurable sensation building, a frictional delight for two.
Sandy and Xavier gave in to the extended cock ride. The grip, the sensation, the sliding and the full excitement of the dogging: outside, by the pool, in the rich morning sunshine, overlooking stunning panoramic harbour views…yet they were trapped together and couldn't see or feel beyond themselves.
Flesh gripped to flesh, flesh joined to the flesh, flesh encircled by flesh and flesh deep in the flesh. Flesh is happiest with flesh — WOW.
Sandy came with new fem-heights.
"Orrgh! Orrghhh!"
Pleasure splattered and literally smashed through her ego like a powerful water cannon.
She was sprayed with happiness: her own and his.
Xavier's squirts of pleasure were extremely self-fulfilling, and he took in the young woman's contentment, too.
They lounged naked in the deck chairs, recovering energy and sexually relaxed.
Sandy's clothes steamed dry in the full heat of the morning. Occasionally flipped to speed the process.
It was while kneeling that she saw the pool surveillance camera.
Xavier realised she had seen it.
"Relax, Sandy… I'll erase it…unless you want to watch it…together…up in my bedroom…now!"
Sandy hurriedly put on her nearly dry clothes and Xavier his speedos.
The passion of new lust.
Duke Clarence saw them near his kennel and sat up, expecting his grooming — his coat would shine.
He was the centre of attention — as ever —
However, The Duke had to wait another couple of hours as Sandy and Xavier shaped their relationship upstairs.