The Chalet

For sun worshipers and libertines everywhere!

There's just something about the summertime. The temperature rises and clothing retreats. Everything we wear gets shorter and looser. Naked skin gets softer and browner—warm and enticing in the heat. Everywhere you look there is a celebration of abandon. People are so easy to watch as they move—no longer hidden beneath layers of heavy clothes.

The chiselled and powerful arms of men, strong and sinewy, extend from sleeveless shirts to flex and gleam in the sun. While the soft, naked thighs of women emerge alluringly from beneath the most tantalising of skirts. Even bodies that can bear to remain covered in the heat still ripple and sway beneath clothing that is barely there.

So, whether the summer is a distant memory, or you're about slip into part one of Sun Strokes in the sunshine, I hope the story within these pages will tease out the sun-worshipping hedonist in you!

The Candy Box by Kojo Black

Sun Strokes by Kojo Black

Immoral Views by Various Authors

Named and Shamed by Janine Ashbless

Naked Delirium by Various Authors

Making Him Wait by Kay Jaybee

Seven Deadly Sins by Various Authors

Strummed by Various Authors

Made for Hire by Various Authors

In the Forests of the Night by Vanessa de Sade

First published bySweetmeats Press 2011

Copyright © Kojo Black 2011
Illustrations © Ruby Baiser 2011
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing from Sweetmeats Press. Nor may it be circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

ISBN 978-0-9564390-7-9

Typeset by Sweetmeats Press
Sweetmeats Press, 27 Old Gloucester Street, London, WC1N 3XX, England, U. K.

www.sweetmeatspress.com

Chapter 1 - Buoyancy

Chapter 2 - The Joy of Arrival

Chapter 3 - Dinner and Dessert

I stood naked in the pool. My body feigned indifference. But I watched her, naked too, out of the corner of my eye. In the night's light her taut, wet flesh glistened in spite of itself. She teased me. She didn't know it. She wasn't trying to. But she teased. She could have easily stood up to her full height in the shallow water. She could have brought both of her full and firm breasts out fully, proudly from beneath the water's refractive obscurity. In the night air, those beautiful breasts would sway determinedly with every jounce and judder she would make as she played. But she wouldn't bring them up. She wouldn't let them jut out, big and free and proud on her delicate chest. She kept them submerged in the crystal water where tiny wavelets lapped hungrily at her cleavage. Sometimes it seemed as though she would at any moment lose all inhibition and stride out of the water altogether, clothed only in residual silver droplets, like Aphrodite from the sea. But she wouldn't rise from the water. At the last moment her pride would turn to humility, and she would waver at the water line for just a few seconds before submerging again. Those seconds were the most difficult to bear. In those few seconds her bosoms heaved above the swell, floating up to just under her chin as the water caressed them, pulled them apart before gently impacting them together again with soft slaps. Her nipples evenly capped the two round globes, but never entirely broke the meniscus of the water. They were prominent nipples, nearly the complexion of ripe peaches, in contrast to the buttery hue of her skin. Nipples so round and pert they seemed as if they ached to leave their warm cushion of water, to feel the night air and to stiffen with distinction as water droplets collected there and then slid gratefully over the naked, frictionless body of the woman before returning to their source. The whole of my body ached to see the whole of the woman naked. Silently I begged her to let me see her breasts sway, to sway naturally, appropriately and without shame, as they can always for a woman. Perhaps to let me see her breasts quiver as she climbed out of the pool, finding her balance on hands and knees, and thereby showing me indiscreetly but without intent, the sweet, smooth cleft of her bottom between the rise of her buttocks and the almost-hidden bowl of her pudenda beneath.

Suddenly, finally, she emerged. She thought about it, prepared to rise, chickened out, and then, all at once, rose from the pool. She did not hurry inside and seek cover. Instead, she laid out her towel and sat, still naked, by the pool's edge. It was as if she suddenly realised the foolishness of playing naked for hours in a pool, only to get out and scuttle immediately for cover. If it were a question of being seen, she had already been seen. What would a frantic dash for cover do except highlight any shame she felt for her own naked body? She had no reason to feel shame. The night was warm and her nakedness was honest and right.

She bent over and straightened her towel, her breasts moving pendulously as she did so. She did not change the design of her actions because she was naked. She did not support her breasts with her forearms to prevent their motion. She did not bend at the knees and squat. Instead, she kept her legs straight, andbent with her strong, supple back, allowing her honeyed labia to peek out from beneath her buttocks and kiss the warm night air. She sat down heavily on the towel, her breasts bouncing vigorously and without symmetry as she did so. The ample, firm, feminine flesh of her ass rippled once before settling into an ellipse aligning sleekly with her outer thigh. She did not cross her legs or press them together demurely, as if closely guarding contraband goods. She sat naturally, as she would if she'd been wearing a bikini or even jeans—one leg rested on the ground, the knee bent, the sole of one delicate foot turned outward toward the pool. The other foot rested flat on the ground with the knee also bent, but this time upwards.

Her flesh was exciting to me of itself. But what truly brought the fire was her innocence and abandon toward her nakedness. Not only had she easily broken the ironclad rule that condemned us to a lifetime of clothing. But in her nakedness also she was truly free. She did not behave like a woman divested of defences and longing to have them back. She had not minced her footsteps. She did not guard her breasts with her arms or otherwise try to cover herself with other parts of her body. It was this honesty of sensuality that stiffened my loins. As I watched her I began to feel the rush of arousal at my middle. The erection surprised me as I had been preparing to get out of the pool. Half way up the ladder the water stopped supporting me and I became aware of the sudden weight of my member. A prickle of embarrassment ran up my spine as I lowered myself back into the water in the name of decency. Out of the corner of my eye I could tell that the woman had seen me. She couldn't help but grin at my predicament and she put her hand to her mouth to hide her mirth.

There had been many of us in the pool that night—all naked. There were only the three of us left now: the woman, her playmate, and me. As I tried to convince my lust to subside, the woman said goodnight to her playmate. With her playmate standing and the woman seated, the woman had to look up to address her playmate. Her neck was slender and taut as her big, bright eyes searched the face of the other. She smiled slightly and her lips parted. For a moment the expression made her look like she was preparing to take a long, deep drink from an offered chalice or suckle from an offered teat. Neither of these came and she wished her playmate goodnight as her playmate receded into the darkness.

She was not a stranger to me, the woman. We had dined together and already spent several evenings talking long into the late hours of the warm nights. Still, I did not want to make her uneasy with just the two of us alone, damp and nude. And I would not have helped to ease her mind by leaping out of the pool with a semi-prominent erection. As her playmate departed and my enthusiasm subsided I pulled myself out of the pool and felt the water cascade from my body. It is unfair that masculine genitalia can be threatening while the female cannot. But decency, rather than fairness, was the issue here and I wrapped a towel tightly around myself before making my way around the pool, past the woman and into the house.

She stopped me as I came parallel to her.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” I said.

“Where're you going?” she asked me.

“Thought I'd call it a night.”

“It's not that late.”

“Late enough. The others have gone.”

“So? Let them. Stay out a bit. Talk to me.”

So I stayed. I knelt down with her on the towel and we talked. And still, it was I having the most trouble with my nakedness. Not out of embarrassment for myself, but in an effort to make my nudity less affrontive to her. I untucked the towel from around my waist, to make it more of a drape than a skirt, so that I would not inadvertently flash her my testicles when sitting cross-legged.

Thankfully, she seemed unconcerned. She sat facing me and, at the apex of her thighs, I saw the slight auburn down of her pubic hair as it whispered over her mound and down into the thick, delicate lips of her pussy. Her pussy was closed though her legs were open and I could just make out the gentle cleft of her vagina that indicated the entrance.

We talked and laughed together for sometime and her breasts shook when she laughed. The big, round bulbs at the base of her breasts seemed so smooth and vulnerable every time they swung from side to side. While the skin of her upper chest was strong and tight, supporting the weight of the heavy globes.

At one moment, as we spoke, she put her hand up to one of her nipples to gently scratch an itch. The motion sent her two glorious breasts jiggling against each other. She seemed not to notice that the nipple she touched began to stiffen in the breeze. I'd been controlling my erection for some time now but her innocent action, so without intent to arouse, was driving me to distraction. Suddenly she shifted her weight and as she did so her thick outer vulva spread apart, hinting at the pink, smooth petals of her inner pussy.

As soon as she had inadvertently shown me the sweet, damp secrets of her cunt, she closed her legs again. But it was enough. I had lost control. I felt a fire rip through my belly as my cock was engorged beyond retreat. There was no hiding it even under the towel.

I saw her eyes wander down to my protrusion and she fell silent.

“I….I'm sorry…” I offered. “I couldn't….”

“It's ok,” she said. She did not lift her eyes from my erection. After another moment's silence she slowly reached out her hand and began to tug at a corner of my towel. I touched her hand to stop her.

“It's ok,” she said again. “I just want to see it.”

She pulled the towel away, drawing it over the length of my penis so that I was as naked as she. I must admit, this felt right. This felt honest. I felt the warmth of the tiles beneath my balls as my turgid cock thrust belligerently from between my thighs.

“It's beautiful,” she said. “Can I touch it?”

I nodded.

She reached out and gently closed her fingers around the head of my dick. My cock began to throb in her grasp. She squeezed it gently and I felt myself suck in a short breath of air as her fingers made contact just under the ridge of the bell.

“Can I touch you?” I asked.

She nodded.

My hand meandered up from her knee, along her smooth thigh, up to her belly, and down to her pussy. Her cunt was warm and inviting. Gently, I petted the smooth pussy-down, taking in the shape of the flesh underneath. I traced my fingers up and down her puffy slit until the lips gradually parted and became slick with honey. Only then did I part the cleft and let my fingers stroke her soft, rosy insides as they too swelled with desire.

She had wrapped her fingers around my cock and begun to masturbate me slowly. It was not aggressive. Her fingers were loose as she made a wide, incomplete fist into which my dick slid in and out. She licked three of her fingers and put them over the head of my cock. Using the lubrication of her saliva, she worked the bulb of my cock-head in and out of her fingers as a fire rose though my abdomen.

“Come here,” she said, and lay down on her back.

I drew up between her thighs and began to nudge her legs apart with my knees.

She moaned softly. “Not like that,” she said. “Here.” And she ran her hand over her beautiful breasts.

She pulled lightly on my cock.

“Come here,” she said again, and guided my twitching penis to her abundant cleavage.

With two hands she corralled the heavy flesh of her tits, and I began to stroke long and deep between them. I put one hand over the top, squeezing her dark nipples, pulling her breasts together, making a deep, fleshy tunnel for my cock to side into and out of. The flesh of her tits was cool as it enveloped the hard, hot heat of my penis. Her skin was buttery smooth and surrounded my member up to the hilt. Between her breasts she was not tight, nor textured and grasping like the depths of a woman. Instead, she was creamy and bountiful, all enveloping and interminably soft. Straddling her chest, I drew my cock out until its head emerged just under her breasts before plunging it back through to the hilt—the slit of my member appearing just under her chin while my testicles squashed pleasantly against the base of her silky tits.