Stranded 4 - XXX Sex

“No!”

“No, my mobile’s dead and I don’t have a charger.”

“You’ll live, Maury, and, more important, so will I.”

When she hung up, I couldn’t hide the grin that spread across my face.

“What?” she asked, suspiciously, then realized, “Oh, my! I’ve just

told my agent ‘no’! What an absolutely wonderful, powerful feeling!”

“What have you done to me, Nick?” she whispered, resuming her position

on my shoulder, “I feel so… so… comfortable! Despite your

irritating habit of expecting me to think, somehow, I feel very

contented just now!”

“How about a massage, to help with that?” I asked softly.

She looked up at me in the dim light and said, “Farming, developing

software, and now, giving massages! Is there anything you don’t do?”

I pretended to think very hard before replying, “Well, I don’t fly

without a plane, but I’m still working on that!”

She laughed and punched my arm.

“So, is that a yes?” I asked, then, remembering her conversation, “And

by the way, your host agrees.”

She looked puzzled, then her face cleared and she smiled, “Yes, it’s a

yes, and thank you! I really could use a vacation!”

A frown clouded her face and she continued, “But what about you? I

can’t just take you away from your work for several days, and all that

livestock isn’t going to feed itself!”

“That’s rather presumptuous of you, don’t you think?” I said

mockingly, “I will take whatever time I need, but I don’t intend to

wait on you hand and foot, you know. I have hands to help with the

stock, and I’m between contracts for software at the moment.”

She looked chastened and said contritely, “I’m sorry! I suppose I WAS

presuming a trifle! After all, how much help do I need just relaxing

for a few days?  I’ll shift for myself most of the time, but would

appreciate any of your company you can afford to give.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll see at least as much of me as you can stand!” I

chided, “You’re welcome to use the pool and spa as much as you like.

with the height of the fence and the fact that it’s accessible only

through the house, swimsuits are optional, though if you’re shy, you

might want to cover up if anyone’s working the hills to the east.  Can

you ride a horse?”

“Oh yes!” she cried “That would be lovely!”

“I’m afraid I only have western saddles,” I continued, “and the horses

are trained for working cattle, so they’ll feel and handle differently

than ones you may be accustomed to.”

“Not to worry, Nick,” she laughed, “I once took a course in riding

American style in case I should ever land a part in one of your

Westerns!”

“Good!” I stuck out my hand to be shaken, “It’s settled then!”

Her hand was dwarfed in mine, but her grip was firm, and her smile

brilliant.

“Now,” she said, “How about that massage?”

I laughed and replied as I held out a hand to help her up, “There’s a

massage table in the room next to my workout room, and like the pool,

it’s clothing optional.”

I flipped the wall switch and subdued lighting flooded the massage

room as soft, rhythmless music floated through the air.

Parminder’s eyebrows rose in surprise and she shot me a questioning

glance.

“I have someone come in occasionally to give me massages,” I answered

her unspoken question, “and I thought it would be nice to be

comfortable while being massaged.”

“Why aren’t you married, Nick?” she asked, un-selfconsciouslessly

shedding her clothes, folding each piece neatly and placing it on a

chair.

“Was once.” I said, “She died several years ago. The money from the

insurance and the lawsuit helped me to get this place.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed sympathetically.

I shrugged, “Happens. I still miss her some, but life is beginning to

go on. I don’t see her out the corner of my eye anymore, or hear her

voice calling me.”

“Why aren’t you married?” I asked, to shift the conversation off me.

“Mostly, I’ve been concentrating on my career.” she said, “but if I

admit it to myself, I guess I’ve also been trying to avoid having to

tell my parents that they don’t get to choose my husband.”

She climbed easily onto the table and settled into position. Since she

didn’t ask for one, I didn’t offer a towel.  I was too engrossed in

admiring her body to want to cover it unless she asked.

I warmed the oil and used sandpaper to smooth off the rough edges of

my callouses, also making sure my nails were trimmed back.

Parminder moaned contentedly under my ministrations. I was a bit

surprised at the firmness of the muscles under those soft curves. I

had to use considerable pressure in some areas to work out the kinks.

I worked my way down her back, then up her legs, saving those luscious

buttocks for last.  It was a distinct pleasure to knead and manipulate

those firm little orbs, and by the time I was finished, I could smell

her arousal.

I gently helped her to turn over and worked her shoulders and pects,

avoiding for now her lovely breasts. Her moans took on a tinge of

frustration when I left her chest and moved to her feet.

She melted all over again as I worked the bottoms of her feet, then

kneaded my way up her calves. I spread her legs slightly to work her

thighs, and could see moisture seeping from her opening, filling the

room with a mixture of her scent and that of the oil. By the time I

reached the tops of her thighs, her hips were rocking in time with my

strokes.

I bypassed the dark triangle and, using plenty of oil, gently worked

her rounded little bowl of a belly.  Gradually, keeping my hands well

oiled, I worked up to the soft mounds of her breasts.  When my greasy

hands first started kneading those lovely dusky orbs with the dark

brown centers, Parminder’s back arched, offering them to my grasping

hands.

I kept the pressure gentle, but as I got to the tip of each breast, I

squeezed the dark nipple tightly between thumb and forefinger and

continued upward until the oil and the stretching pulled the slippery

nub out of my grasp. A small cry erupted from Parminder as each nipple

escaped its bondage.

For several minutes I repeated the process, turning my hands to

different angles and moving rhythmically to ‘milk’ those beautiful

teats. Finally, I bent over her and took one hard, dark nipple into my

mouth, congratulating myself on my forethought for having bought that

flavored massage oil!

My palm slid down her lubricated abdomen and came to rest on the dark

forest covering her mound as two fingers slid alongside her clit and

slipped easily into her self-lubricated opening.  A deep moan arose

from her throat, and her head arched backward.

As my fingers found her G-spot, I started tapping it.  With each tap,

my teeth would close sharply on the hard little eraser of her nipple,

and immediately release. Her body bridged between shoulders and heels

as she came the first time, but I continued the rhythmic tapping and

biting.

After three or four more orgasms, I relinquished my hold on her erect

nipple, and swept downward to suckle on her engorged clit. Now,

instead of tapping, my fingers slid relentlessly back and forth across

her G-spot in time with my lengual manipulation of her sensitive

little bud.  Higher and higher I took her, pausing each time she

neared the precipice, never quite letting her cum.

At first gently, then with more and greater vigor I played her

dripping instrument, building toward a final crescendo.  Parminder’s

sighs and moans became more desperate, more strident. She would inhale

two or three times before remembering to exhale, and each time the air

gusted out across tightly stretched vocal chords.

I shifted position to the bottom of the table, and the lovely actress

wrapped her luscious brown thighs around my head, crying her lustful

frustration to the rafters. I turned her cries to screams as I plunged

a finger deeply into the brown crinkled star of her anus. Again and

again I brought her to the edge, only to back off and let her cool

down.

Finally, as her small hands beat at the massage table in frustration

and I feared she would pass out from hyperventilation, I drummed two

fingers of one hand against her G-spot while pistoning two fingers

rapidly in and out of her backside.  As her hips rose to meet my

manual assault, I bit sharply, quickly at the tender bud of her clit

several times in succession.

Parminder’s voice broke mid-scream and the remainder of her cry gusted

silently out of her throat as her entire body went rigid, her legs

almost breaking my neck as they spasmed then straightened to drum her

heels against my back!  My mouth couldn’t keep up with her ratcheting

pelvis, and I thought I’d have to come back later for my fingers as

her openings clamped down on them! For a long, long moment, her climax

seized her.  When it finally relinquished its grip on her body, every

muscle seemed to lose its strength as she collapsed back to the table,

twitching with aftershocks.

Slowly, gently, I extracted various parts of my anatomy from hers,

causing new tremors as I touched oversensitive tissues.

I had finished washing my hands and face before Parminder once again

became aware of her surroundings. As I turned, drying on a towel, she

groaned and made a feeble attempt to sit.

“That,” she said hoarsely, “was the most relaxing massage I EVER had!

I can hardly move!”

“Then don’t try, just yet.” I said, “Let me clean you up first.”

She surrendered without a fight, and with a series of warm washcloths,

I cleansed the oil and other fluids from her body, eliciting more

sighs of contentment.

Without a word, I lifted her limp form from the table and carried it

upstairs to the room I had designated as hers, depositing her gently

on the bed. As I covered her and turned out the light, she murmured,

“But, what about you?”

I kissed her lightly on the forehead and said, “Plenty of time for

that later. I prefer my partners to be at least semi-conscious!”

That got me a feeble smile followed almost immediately by a ladylike

snore.

Breakfast was almost ready by the time Parminder shuffled into the

kitchen looking quite fetching, if somewhat disheveled, in a terry

robe about twice her size.  She eagerly took the cup of coffee I

offered as she sat down at the table.

A couple of sips later, a little life came back to her eyes.

She looked up at me from under an unruly mop of black hair and said,

“I can’t recall the last time I slept so soundly! If this coffee

hadn’t smelled so marvelous, I’d still be snoring away!”

I put a heaping plate of bacon, eggs and grits in front of her and sat

down with my own plate.

She eyed the plate dubiously, and gingerly tasted a buttery bite of

grits.  Black eyebrows arched across her forehead as she exclaimed,

“This is quite good! What is it?”

“It’s called ‘grits’,” I replied, “or, more formally, hominy grits.

Don’t quote me on it, but I think it’s made by soaking cornmeal in

lye. Or perhaps they soak the corn in lye before grinding it to this

consistency. Anyway, I eat a lot of ‘em. My roots are in the South,

and some habits die hard.”

I pointed at the eggs and bacon and said, “Better eat those, too. You

expended a lot of energy last night, and today just might turn out to

be a long one!”

“I usually only eat a piece of fruit for breakfast…!” she said,

taking a tentative bite of egg, and following with a crunchy piece of

bacon, breaking it off with her fingers before slipping in discreetly

between those dark, full lips.

After that, until the plate was clean, all I heard was un-ladylike

‘Ummm!’s and ‘Aahh!’s.

“My God!” she said, falling back in her chair as her fork clattered

onto the empty plate, “I must have been famished! That was very good!”

I smiled and finished the last bites of my breakfast.

“Well, what would you like to do today,” I asked as I refilled her

coffee cup, “on this, your first official day of vacation?”

“This coffee is quite good!” she said, nose still hovering over her

cup, “It’s not that brown, watery muck you Americans usually drink!”

“Thanks!” I took a sip from my own cup, “I’ve got to feed the

livestock in the barnyard, but I’ve got someone coming out to take

care of the rest of the chores.  I can round us up a couple of horses,

or you can just relax by the pool today.”

She thought for a while, savoring the aromas carried by the steam

rising from her mug before replying, “You know, I’m feeling so relaxed

at the moment, Nick, I think I’ll just take it easy this morning, if

that’s all right with you. Perhaps later in the day I’ll have regained

some of my strength. You devastated me last night!”

She followed that with an impish grin, which I couldn’t help but

answer.

I finished my chores and showered then wandered out toward the pool,

having seen Parminder sunbathing from my bedroom window.

As I passed down the main hallway, a blinking light on my security

system sent me back upstairs to check out the east hills with my

binoculars. Confirming my suspicions, I went to the pool and covered

Parminder’s deliciously naked form with a towel.

“I need to go for a short ride,” I said, “If I were you, I’d stay

covered until I get back. OK? Somebody’s over on the east hills with

lenses.  I’m going to go check it out. Do me a favor, though and stay

out here so they’ll still have something to look at.”

She nodded and lay back down.

I quickly saddled Buck. Buck, unlike the other horses, seemed to like

being ridden, and he had the stamina to go forever.  He never strayed

far from the main buildings, just on the off chance that I’d want to

ride.

He was in a playful mood, and I had to wait until he exhaled before I

could tighten the cinch, but it was mostly for show.

I mounted up and headed northwest, angling away from the buildings and

the east hills.  After I was sure I was obscured from the sight of

whoever was up there, I circled back and put Buck into a ground eating

gallop, catching the creek bed almost directly north of the house.

This late in the summer, the creek was mostly dried up and the sandy

bed muffled Buck’s hoofbeats as we pounded back toward the southeast,

behind the hills where my trespasser was waiting.

I walked Buck up the backside of the hill and came down on the guy

with my lariat already loose and ready to go.  He didn’t hear us until

Buck was about twenty yards away, and by then it was too late. I

lassoed him as we barreled past at a gallop, and by the time he

realized he was caught, I had taken a couple of turns around the

saddle horn as Buck hit the end of the slack.

The photographer was jerked unceremoniously off his feet before I

pulled lightly back on the reins. Buck planted all four hooves and

almost sat on his haunches as he slid to a stop.

Buck’s a well trained cow pony and when I dismounted he kept the rope

taut as I approached the guy, who had managed to struggle back to his

feet.  He must have thought I was going to hit him because he cringed

a bit as I passed.

Without a word, I gathered his equipment and slung it over the back of

Buck’s saddle. I remounted and drew my revolver - the one I wear when

away from the house in case of snakes & other vermin, letting Buck

slack off on the rope.

As the noose slackened and fell around his feet, I told the guy, “Get

your clothes off.”

“What?” He must have thought he was still in the city, “I’m not taking

my clothes off! This is outrageous! I’ll call the cops! I’ll…”

“You don’t seem to understand, mister.” I said calmly, holding the

piece rock steady, “You’re trespassing on my property. I know you saw

the signs, because I’ve got ‘em every ten feet along the fence line.

Folks around here don’t take to kindly to city folk comin’ out here

and traipsin’ around our land uninvited. I’ll call the Sheriff for you

if you like,” I held up my cell phone with my left hand, “and you can

spend the next couple of months dealing with the local law. See, the

sheriff and me, we’re drinking buddies, and his cousin Jeff, well,

he’s the judge hereabouts.”

I grinned at the expression on his face, “Oh yeah, my buddy Bob, he

runs the county jail. I’ll be happy to talk to him for you, and get

you some real special accomodations.  I think Butch Cramer’s in lockup

again. He’s always had a thing for tender city boys! Or…”

The guy’s face was getting even whiter and he had to gather some

saliva before he could make his mouth work, “…’Or’ what?”

“Or you strip, right here, right now, every stitch,” I grinned evilly,

“and you can pick up your clothes and equipment back at your car after

a little hike.”