0 comments/ 8505 views/ 1 favorites The House by the Ocean Ch. 01 By: Quentin Riley Driving her car up the coast, Connie felt good about this group coming to stay in her beautiful villa. She had nothing more than a good vibe from Debra's e-mails, but she just felt it...and her gut instincts were never far off-base. Debra--the apparent spokesperson for this vacationing group of eight, gave her much information through their correspondence. All eight were recent graduates and professionals from the Philly area, and close friends looking for some R & R. Good, Connie thought. There would be intelligent people on her property. She hated putting her vacation home in the hands of moronic revelers who were too stupid to understand her place was not a hotel, but a work of art and a home. What a relief! She was right. The split-level modern Spanish villa had so much more to offer than just a place to crash. Connie designed every inch of the interior with the artistically thoughtful touches that came from being both an art dealer and artist, afforded her. Some of the paintings, drawings and sculptures in the house were her personal works. Yes, the villa was a vacation home and a renter for profit, but to Connie, it was a pure labor of love and passion. The location and design of the house convinced her it was a sacred and mystical place—hallowed ground. So she preferred people with potential sensibility and appreciation for such a place. These eight fit the mold. She could feel it. That was perfect. The drive up the Northern California coast was one of the most breathtaking sights in the world. The Pacific Ocean to the left dazzled and shimmered unbelievably close to the highway. The sky above was perfectly clear and blue. And the sun radiated everything in pleasant warmth, including Connie inside of her green Audi. There was no need for the air-conditioner inside the car; Connie preferred the ocean breeze blowing through cracked car windows whenever the temperature made it appropriate. It was a perfect day in every way. The comfort in Connie's limbs gave her a surety. The road was smooth on this stretch of the highway, yet the car began to vibrate slightly. Most drivers might have missed the movement, but the unusual movement did not pass the attention of Constance Jocelyn Meyer. Everything was connected, she knew. All around her, the gentle vibration seem to spread from the steering wheel to the doors until the whole interior was consumed with it. Nothing was wrong with her car—of that she was certain. Connie began to smile knowingly. It was with her again—calling to her. "It" was the force that told her to buy the land and house from the previous owner twelve years ago. He was a vapid man with awful taste in interior design and a poorer sense of what he owned. Connie met his asking price and sweetened the deal for his quick departure. The land was hungry for her, and she for it. They were meant to be one because twelve years ago, it called out to her body for the first time just as it was doing right now. She was getting closer to where she was meant to be...closer to her home. Her center. The trembling coursed down her seat into her spine and tailbone. She felt it keenly in her armpits as it rode from the wheel through her arms. This...energy took over her body. The sun got brighter inside the car. Connie's mind equated it to an exploding star. The vibration crept between her thighs, rippling against her flesh, pressing deliciously on her sex like a lover's skilled unrelenting tongue. The car began to drift as Connie swooned under the bold, hungry touch of this force. Invisible hands formed against her stomach and moved upward. Thumbs circled the underside of her full breasts, enticing her flesh. Connie's lips parted as nervous sweat surfaced on her skin and her nipples instantly formed into an aroused hardness so hard, she could feel the sexual ache down in her bones. The impression of fingertips traveling the sensitive trail of her areolas left Constance Joyce Meyer's insides in trembling knots...and her vagina wet. The brazen caresses worked down from the breasts, over the stomach and down between her thighs. Constance was fully clothed, but she felt fingers deftly pull her panties to the side and expose her sex. A thumb rolled over her clit again and again. One, then two fingers slid inside her, penetrating her easily. These "fingers" found a rhythm in Connie, steadily increasing in speed. Slick with her arousal, the fingers became the firm, hot, pulsing, dense and unmistakable presence of a cock inside her. Connie felt the heavy weight of a man's solid chest upon her own. She remained steady at the wheel, but her body convinced her mind she was pinned on her back, legs in the air with an insatiable lover riding her—pelvis pounding against pelvis. She was acutely aware of feeling like this thing's...whore. As if her only value was to be used sexually by it. To be fucked like a bitch in heat. The thought of violation running through Connie's head fueled the sexual tension throbbing throughout her body. Her orgasm came over her fast and harder than her mind could ever remember. The climax shattered her into pieces. The car swerved dangerously on the road and Constance was well over the speed limit. The picturesque day started to come back to her conscious mind. She got the car under her control. The invading presence that claimed her flesh for its own was gone, but the brown leather seat between her legs was wet with sex. She needed to get to the house. The House by the Ocean Ch. 02 Debra was filled with wonder and excitement about this trip. She got like this every time before a vacation--an adult version of an impatient child dying to open presents on Christmas Eve. She wondered what the villa would look like. The pictures of the place were beautiful, but there was no replacement for seeing it with her eyes. The way Connie spoke of her property, Debra's bar was set high and expected the pictures to do the place no justice. The pilot's announcement of the plane's final approach to the airport turned Debra's excitement into euphoric giddiness. Almost there. Debra looked to the nearby seats where her friends were seated. Always the vacation architect of the group, she pushed for this trip with all of them because she could sense it could the last one they would take together. Thalia and Mathieu married two years ago, and Thalia confided in Debra that children were next on the life list with graduate school now behind them. To Debra's surprise, the new couple—Anni and Johan, were progressing very quickly since moving in together six months ago after a short dating period. Her college friend Abby was beautiful and single, but notoriously fickle about dating men. That's why Debra was so happy to get Michael to come along, too. A little sun, fun and relaxation (Debra hoped) would finally push fickle Abby and charming Michael together into the relationship she always saw them in. Of course, Debra and her boyfriend, Roberto, were a picture of coupled bliss. Debra never adored a man as much as Roberto Diaz. Debra's vision of a perfect man used to be tall, handsome, rugged, constructed with a heart of gold...and white. Roberto showed her how easily an intelligent, well-traveled, confident Puerto Rican man could shatter that image. And what Roberto did to her body convinced her she would be lost without him. His tender touch against her skin, his soft lips on her own, his body on top of hers in the bed. Her life was Roberto—no question. She was not ashamed to tell anyone who cared to hear it, either. She had the fairy tale all mapped out: marriage to Rob in two years, then children with Rob in four and happiness ever after. Everyone was moving in their own ways; onward and ultimately, away to the rest of their lives. An opportunity like this to spend time with her closest friends altogether was not likely to happen again after this trip. Debra was going to make the most of the next five days—starting with fucking Roberto hard and often. Just the thought of doing so made her smooth creamy skin prickle with goose bumps all over. She felt her pink nipples press firm inside her bra. Debra's lips twisted into a wicked grin. Roberto was sound asleep. He always slept on flights, especially when he had one of those thin airline throw blankets as he did now. Debra took a look at his still face, the slid her right hand beneath the blanket onto Roberto's crotch. Eyes fixed upon his face, she began to stroke his cock. Debra wanted to tease her man right now. Doing so on the plane just beyond everyone's sight, thrilled her. Thumb back and forth over the head. Palm on the underside. Smooth red fingertips down the shaft. Roberto's expression barely changed, but his member hardened immediately under Debra's touch when she caressed him like that. Before this day was over, Debra would have what was in her hand between her thighs deep inside her. The plane touched down. Let the vacation begin, Debra thought. Johan Angel Cabrera was a real man educated by life itself, not by a University. To Johan, one brand of education was more relevant and valuable than the other anyway. His development as a man came from getting his hands dirty with life, not following a book like a recipe for a cake. He learned by doing and living; engaging with whomever and whatever he encountered. He was certain that was the reason Anni drew closer to him every day. It was the seed that was turning like into love slowly each passing day of their now nine-month relationship. Anni was well-educated like her all friends on this trip—a double major in music and history in undergrad and a Master's Degree in urban planning obtained just a week ago. However, Anni didn't let the accolades go to her head. She took people as they were and made genuine connections with them—human connections. Add to that Anni's taste for adventure and her funky style, and Johan knew he had the makings of the perfect woman in his life. The nipple rings, smooth German skin and the way she sucked cock were all bonus points in her favor, too. Ay Dios mio was that one of life's pleasures! Johan caught himself looking over Anni and the rest of the ladies. Debra was the shortest one. Five foot nothing, brunette, a pie face with the biggest tits of them all. Abby was the fittest with a runner's physique offset by dangerous feminine curves. Although she seemed too uptight for his taste, she was an exquisite-looking dark-skinned black woman in his eyes. Mat's wife, Thalia, was nothing less than physical perfection to every fantasy lurking in Johan's mind. He consciously tried not to look at her less he get caught staring and lusting at another man's wife. Thalia's olive-colored skin glowed and shimmered whenever light found her flesh. Her Greek lineage was prominent in wide hips that defied her slim stature. And Johan's eyes always found their way to Thalia's backside—full and bold in shape. Another part of this beautiful woman's body that seemed unlikely to belong to her, yet it was there...mouth-watering. The perverted dark corners of his mind recalled many masturbation sessions crashing and burning into delirious climax with Thalia's naked bottom before him, assaulting and engulfing his slick, erect penis that parted those firm tan buttocks, entering her over and over again... His lady didn't have the kind of physical highlights of Mat's wife, but the green pools of Anni's eyes are what captivated Johan from the start: Deep, penetrating, yet playful and full of curious hunger. In Anni's words, her mother gave her the eyes and the flowing curly brown hair and her flat butt. Her dad gave her the playfulness, hunger, the broad shoulders, decent boobs and remarkably shapely thighs and legs. The combination translated to an understated beauty that satisfied one's visual palate like a comfort food pleased the stomach. Anni was a woman without pretension--a woman devoid of bullshit. She cajoled Johan onto this trip because she wanted to showcase him to her closest friends and provide them an opportunity to develop the same high opinion of him as she had. Anni and he both know that wasn't the case just yet. Growing up poor more often than not as a child in Colombia, he developed a fine tune to those who judged him on face value. Perhaps Anni's friends wanted the best for her as she told him many times, but he felt their prejudices of him and he knew he didn't stack up in their opinion to Anni's experience, education or standard in men. Despite his skepticism, he was here for Anni's sake and her faith in him.