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When I stand up, I have to use the football to hide my erection. After one more play, we go in the cabin to wash up before dinner. The girls go up to their rooms, the boys remain outside to play, and John and Mary work on finishing dinner. I’d offer to help, but they know my skills in the kitchen are less than favorable.
I go into the downstairs bathroom and run cold water in the sink, taking handfuls and washing my face. Maybe the slap of cold water will wake me up from this dream I’m having. And just maybe it will cool me down because I’m overheated after my encounter with Jenny during the football game.
Every inch of my clothes and exposed skin is covered in dried mud and grass stains. I need a shower before dinner. No washcloth is a match for the mess I’ve made of myself. I should probably take a cold shower too, but I don’t think even the cold water will do enough to get rid of the hard-on raging in my shorts. If I stand any chance of getting Jenny out of my head before we sit down to dinner, I’m going to need to take care of that.
I step under the warm water of the shower and let the stream cascade over my shoulders, relaxing the sore muscles. As I bow my head and feel the tension ease, I start to wonder what the hell happened out there. Did that really happen with Jenny or did I have some kind of vivid daydream that only felt so real? I can still smell her. Despite sweating, she smelled like flowers and mint, and some kind of fruity shampoo. She smelled of youth and vitality, a scent that is dangerously addictive. The memory of it is burned into my brain and keeps my cock hard even after my best attempts to think about anything else.
I know it’s wrong—in so many ways—to touch myself right now while thinking of Jenny, but since I’m alone, I allow my mind to wander back to her. I soap up my body and remember the see-through bathing suit cover she wore and the tiny black bikini under it that left very little for the imagination. Her breasts are small yet perky, her hard nipples were easy to notice, and that smooth, tan skin …
I close my eyes and soap up my hard dick. The sensation makes my whole body quiver.
I wrestle with myself. Part of me wants Jenny out of my head because the things I’m thinking about are wrong. She’s my best friend’s daughter and my own daughter’s best friend. I’ve known Jenny since she was just a child.
But she’s not a child anymore. She’s a mature young woman with gorgeous curves and an ass you can bounce a quarter off of. That look she gave me while straddling my waist is something I’ll never forget. Her stormy gray eyes searched mine, and for a moment I forgot how to breathe. She stared at me and bit her bottom lip as if she were thinking about kissing me.
Maybe I was imagining it, but I know for certain I was not imagining her rocking back and forth against my cock, and the slight moan she let out when she was doing it. She’s always been a beautiful girl, but in that moment, something changed. She was the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen.
As I picture all of the little details of that moment on the lawn as we played football, I realize I’ve been stroking my dick this entire time. My hand moves so fast it’s a blur as I imagine ripping that bikini off of her and tasting the sweet and salty taste of her naked skin and plunging my cock into her tight young pussy. As soon as I imagine her clawing at my back and crying out my name, my cock explodes and I shoot cum against the tiled shower wall.
My knees are weak and my vision is blurry once I’ve come down. Hopefully that’s all I needed to get Jenny out of my system for a while. Though knowing that we’ll be stuck together for the next three weeks, I have a feeling this won’t be the last time I’ll be spraying these shower walls.
* * *
Once I’m finished, I wrap a towel around my waist. My clothes are too dirty to put back on and I forgot to get clean ones before I got into the shower.
I step out of the bathroom and see Jenny sitting on the couch where I’ll be sleeping the rest of the time we’re here. She’s alone. The others must still be in their own rooms or in the kitchen. She’s changed her clothes as well. This time she’s wearing a tank top and a pair of shorts that are so short they’re practically underwear. She smiles at me and subtly sticks out her chest so that I notice she’s not wearing a bra. Not only that, but the tank top is sheer enough so that I can see the pink of her nipples through the white fabric.
