Pool Party

Juicy hot dogs sizzle and crackle on the grill. The sun sears into my skin, and the air is filled with the sound of shrieking, splashing children. It's community pool party day.

I present my pass to the guy at the front desk, cut through the locker room, and enter the bustling pool area. I untie my sarong, toss it onto an empty lounge chair. I have no idea what to do with myself.

My eyes stop on a statuesque woman in a royal blue one-piece and Gucci sunglasses. She has soft curves and big, curly hair with edges that glow in the light. She's concentrating on the iPod she's holding in her manicured hand. I walk over.

"Are you in charge of the music?"

She looks up. I can see her shadowy eyes through the tint.

"Not really. But I'm picking it anyway."

"What are you thinking?"

"Meters or Buddy Guy. Very different energies."

I cross my arms and tap my foot in concentration.

"The Meters. Definitely."

"You got it, boss lady."

She hits play and stands up. Her wet bathing suit clings to her body.

"I'm Dayana, by the way," she says. "I don't think I've seen you around before."

"Colette. I just moved in. I only know, like, two people here."

"It's all good! You know me now, and I know everybody."

There's something about her that's so vibrant. It radiates. It's infectious. I'm completely and utterly captivated. I want to soak her in.

"Lovely Miss Colette." She laces up her sandals. "I was about to pick up a towel from my place. Wanna come?"

I brighten up.

"I could use a walk."

"Me too. It's getting a little crowded in here."

We walk over in our bathing suits, and it's like we've known each other forever. We discover that we went to the same school four years apart, and that I used to work sales at her cousin's shitty carpet store. She says she's a naturopath, and that the Earth speaks in whispers. I pretend to know what she means.

Before I know it we're at Dayana's apartment, a third-floor walkup in a building that looks just like mine. My heart races. We go inside. It smells like sandalwood, and the walls are covered with multicolored tapestries.

"Make yourself at home," Dayana says as she walks into the kitchen. "Want some iced tea?"

"Yes, please." I leaf through a National Geographic book on the coffee table. "Your apartment is so much nicer than mine. I've got really bad mold."

"A little baking soda and vinegar should take care of that." She hands me a glass. "Wanna smoke before we go back down?"

"Definitely!"

Out on the balcony, plants are everywhere and the length of the parapet is covered with a long bamboo privacy screen. We sit down at a weathered folding table, and Dayana packs the bong. She lets me have the first hit. It's really good.

"You're a very good hostess, you know." I lean over a ceramic pot and rub a slender stalk between my thumb and forefinger. "What's this?"

"Lemongrass. I use it for tea, infusions, all sorts of things." She snaps a small fuzzy leaf from another plant. "Here, chew this."

I pop it in my mouth, and each bite releases a flood of mint.

"Mmm. That's amazing."

"I'll make you tea someday. I have a special blend for just about every occasion."

"Are you inviting me to a tea party?"

"I throw the best tea parties. It gets lit. Especially when I break out the citrus-rose."

There's a large tote in the corner, capsized and overflowing. The head of a shiny black cock pokes out from the pile of clothes and toiletries. Dayana notices my gaze.

"Ha, sorry." She shoves everything back in. "Just got back from a trip."

"It's fine, don't even. I've seen a dildo before."

Dayana leans in conspiratorially.

"Wanna try it on?"

"Do I want to try it on?" I laugh from surprise. "No. No, I'd rather see you wear it."

Dayana grins. She gets up, straps it on, and stands in front of me, rock-hard.

"Kiss it," she says.

I get on my knees and kiss the tip. She strokes the top of my head. I lick and suck and wet every inch of it. The concrete digs into my skin.

Dayana gently stops me and helps me to my feet. We kiss, sweetly, passionately. The smooth ball of her tongue ring clinks against our teeth.

She turns me around, and I grasp the iron rail with both hands. She pulls my bikini bottom down. Maneuvers it past my shoes. She slips the dildo between my thighs, pushes my legs together, and thrusts.

The slick shaft slides back and forth against my labia. I moan softly. Dayana kisses my shoulders, my back. She nibbles my earlobe. I press my ass into her. She puts her left hand on top of mine and wraps the other around my waist.

"You ready?" she says.

"Give it to me," I gasp.

She licks and fingers and teases my asshole until it opens, then she forces the dildo deep inside. I hold my breath as she bears down. I feel so full I can barely move.

Dayana holds my hips and fucks me slow and hard. My ass jiggles and shakes. She pulls me back by my braid. We kiss.

I look down. A sidewalk winds its way past the building but no one's around. We have the neighborhood to ourselves. She unties my bikini top. It falls to the ground.

Across the way a man in a bathrobe watches from his window. He ducks behind the wall when he notices me notice him, but I know he's still there. I roll my neck and square my shoulders. Dayana puts her foot up on the chair.

"Oh God, don't stop," I moan. "You feel so fucking good."

She takes my hands, spins me around, pulls me close. Her bathing suit is cold and clammy on my bare skin. My nipples tighten from the chill. I push her sunglasses up. Her eyes are hazel flecked with green.

Dayana lays me down on the table and runs her hands down my body. I kiss her fingers. She presses my knees against my chest and goes inside my throbbing asshole. I tightly grip the edges of the table.

I wrap my legs around her waist and grind. Our hips move in elliptical orbits. I play with myself while she watches. The more turned on I get, the harder she fucks. She watches me cum, and she doesn't stop until the last convulsion has surged through my body.

Dayana gathers up my bathing suit and hands it to me. I defiantly throw it over the edge of the balcony. She puts her hand on her hip.

"You're so bad! What am I going to do with you?"

"I'm sure you can think of something."

Still wearing the strap-on, she picks me up, carries me into the bedroom, and slams the door behind us.