We used to chat a lot over the next few months during the summer and I knew that you would make a point of coming out into the garden whenever I was working or watering the plants and that you always had extremely sexy clothes on even though you might not have meant to, tiny shorts, little bikini pants that always seemed to be too little or hanging off, exposing your arse crack and better still the top of your pubic mound with its wispy light blond hair just popping out of the top. There were many times that I had to adjust my cock as it would jerk into life at the sight of you with your tanned legs and smooth back and pretty face, sexy smile with the hint of pink lip gloss and the sweat dripping between your little pert tits and the slight damp patch between your legs as your pants pulled into your fanny lips, you were delightful and so horney. I did very often deliberately splash you with the water sprayer to try and make your cotton tops see through and succeeded many times. I feel…what could I describe it as? Aroused. The sensation is arousal. But it seems to have an epicentre. My cock. And my cock is really hard. Hard in the morning isn’t exactly unusual or remarkable in itself, but the sensation of what is happening, it occurs to me, is very unusual to say the least. It feels as though it is moving very slowly, and is warmer than the rest of my body. Images of yesterday drift over me; a woman, a restaurant, lingerie, champagne, a gentle lingering kiss, gorgeous breasts, hard nipples. Random images play, but I am unable to focus on any one of them before the erotic slide show moves on. As I become more aware of my surroundings I recall the layout of the room. I am in a hotel. The room is very quiet – a high floor – and the room is only faintly light, the first shafts of sunlight squeezing through gaps around the heavy curtains. I am lying on my right side, just as I had done when I fell asleep, curled against the soft curves of the gorgeous brunette.
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