Memo: Dr. Dagny: Please read and file. Must cancel meeting. I'll call to re-schedule. Thanks for reading. Christina
.....................................
Dear Dr. Dagny,
Despite the cottages being in such close proximity, I lost all previous inhibitions the other night while pleasuring myself.
I must admit, all proper caution was cast aside. I simply couldn't help myself.
In the midst of my all consuming passion, I cried out the names of every hot guy on my current possibility list.
With my glass dildo and "old faithful vibe" I imagined each man thoroughly doing me--giving me the time of my life on my side porch sofa.
When the last of a whole series of multiple climaxes hit me, I heard a loud rapping on my screen door and a man's voice demanding to know, "Is everything okay in there?"
******************
Breathlessly I answered, "Oh yeah, MORE than okay . . . then I came to my senses. Could it be my next door neighbor? The guy I saw between my legs raking his leaves?
I lay quiet to see if the knocking would persist. Sure enough it did. This time with a different voice accompanying it.
"Is everything okay in there?"
Quietly I worked my way past the porch windows, and looked through the lace curtain on the screen door.
There stood a gorgeous looking man with a tool belt hanging from his waist. He looked like a cross between a college boy and a construction worker.
He was reminiscent of body builders at athletic equipment shows--the kind who strut up and down the aisles.
Whoever he was, I hadn't seen him around these parts.
Gathering up a little more courage, I edged my way over to the screen door, concealing myself behind the door frame.
I stood close enough so he could hear me and replied, "Yes, everything is okay . . . just practicing . . . that's all . . . sorry if I disturbed you."
"No problem . . . the guy next door asked me to check on you."
Still talking through the door I replied, "Thank you . . . you doing carpentry work around here?"
"Yes, helping out Mr. Hardy. It's his brother Andy that's staying at the cottage. Said to give you his cell number in case you needed his help."
"That's very kind . . . Are you by any chance looking for more jobs?"
"Sure, what did you have in mind?"
"I'd have to show you, could you come back tomorrow around four'o'clock?"
"Sure. I'll be here, but you'll have to let me in and not hide behind the door . . ."
"No problem, I promise I'll let you in! Please be on time. I have a clinic I'm doing this weekend--tight schedule."
I could hear him chuckling as he slipped his card under the door. "I know, the coaches clinic . . . ."
"You must keep up on all the local events . . . ."
"Helps me to avoid traffic on weekends. I'll be on time . . . if YOU aren't, I promise to wait."
Considerate of him I thought.
"By the way, if you want to check me out. I'm registered with your cottage owner's association."
Moving closer to retrieve his card, I got an even better look. Wow!
One look was enough to send me back to sex toy heaven for a week . . . Instead, I took three melatonin and went to sleep. Saturday was going to be a big day.
*********************
Eggs sunny side up, bacon, toast, orange juice and coffee on the front porch got my day started right.
Tackling the first thing on my "to do" list, I called the Victorian Cottage Association, to find out if they had a worker registered by the name of Johan J. Johanson.
The secretary immediately responded saying, "Oh J.J. . . . Yes, of course. Everyone knows him. And not just his by his handiwork. He's a popular coach. Does good work from what we hear."
"That's good to know. Where's he from?"
"Don't know that. Just that when his grandmother died winter before last, he moved up here and took over her cottage."
The rest of my list went quickly . . . soon I was out the door and at the hotel taking care of my company's booth and flirting with all the coaches. It was a natural. I was so hot and ready. "Primed" you could say.
The thought of meeting with J.J. at 4:00 kept me energized throughout the day.
In the midst of my excitement I forgot entirely about my prospective new lover Rob checking into the hotel by 6:00.
********************
Dr. Dagny, I may have told you this before but if I haven't I should explain.
In Chicago, you might consider my century plus cottage a slum house, but in resort areas on the shores of Lake Michigan, it's an expensive piece of property, with or without the cottage.
As you might guess, my castle needs a lot of carpentry work. Not just any carpenter will do.
Restoration is what the cottage needs, not a "re-muddle job"
I've been trying to find one that understands restoration work, but I've nearly given up with summer already here.
The few who can do such work all have projects going until next fall.
I'm hoping J.J. will turn out to be the perfect one to do what I need. Affordable too.
And, if I get real lucky, he'll be the type who can make prudent money decisions regarding materials.
When I return to Chicago I can't be worried about him being
penny wise and pound foolish.
You can see, I'm in desperate need of a serious dedicated man I can afford.
What I don't need is what I had the summer before--an alcoholic who demanded advance pay and seldom
worked.
*************************
While Christina continued to take care of business, J.J. was across town checking on the progress of a plumber on his kitchen job.
Plumbing made him think of male and female connectors and the fact his male parts hadn't been joined with any female parts for a very long time.
He wondered if that's why he couldn't get Christina off his mind.
He was excited about their 4:00 meeting. There was so much about her he'd like to know. Her age for one thing.
Most of the cottage association members were up in years. He guessed Christina was older than he was, but then most everyone was, anyone who was interesting.
**********************
J.J. had seen Christina many times from the upstairs windows at Mr. Hardy's cottage when she pulled in her drive.
She drove a 1966 Mustang Spring Special Convertible--white with red leather upholstery and hand painted red pin stripping.
Neighbor's had told J.J. that Christina's grandpa called it the most beautiful little car he ever owned--left it to to his grand-daughter along with the cottage.
When he first inquired, Mr. Hardy raised his eyebrows and said, "You should recall this from your grandmother--that having a "cottage car" in your driveway is almost a necessity. Sorta like having an Adirondack chair in your yard."
It was true. One antique car per cottage sitting in the driveway was not unusual.
Driven only in July and August, they lasted for decades and were actually an economy rather than a luxury and certainly not an indication of wealth.
J.J. wondered if Christina was wealthy. Could she afford him? Did she have money? Did she pay on time?
After college, he hadn't been able to find work and didn't have enough to start his own business.
As an interim solution, he decided to move into his grandmother's cottage, and teach art at the community college.
Unexpectedly, he became the assistant football coach as well which not only helped him financially, but emotionally.
It didn't dawn on him at first that he'd be smack in the center of hundreds of old summer cottages.
When it did, he was in second heaven. At last he had found his niche in life.
Normally a private person, he was surprised it didn't bother him that his summer customers gossiped about him.
They not only spread the word he was a good carpenter--but also--that he was gifted artist with a degree in architecture.
It saved him the cost of ads and brought him work, so he encouraged it and deemed it a good thing.
************************
Precisely at 4:00 PM, J.J. pulled in the driveway as Christina was walking up her back steps.
From the moment he shook her hand, she had him. He followed behind her like a happy pup for the duration of the tour.
Christina didn't let on she noticed--got straight to the business of showing him through all fifteen rooms.
Contrary to earlier concerns, J.J. didn't think her a hippy or a freak, and he didn't think her cottage was a dump.
As she showed him through, he felt good.
Experienced it like a warm embrace.
He loved seeing her and her family's history in every room. It was as if she was sharing a very personal and intimate part of herself with him.
Every room from ceiling to floor, and every piece in it, fit seamlessly, as did she.
Despite being dressed in the latest fashion, Christina struck him as old fashioned girl--Victorian as her cottage.
Her skirt was long, flowing and purplish, her short shiny jacket geranium red, and her prissy high necked blouse, white.
Although basically a conservative ensemble, it showed off every single one one of her curves.
J.J. thought the best part of her outfit was her bright red high heel sandal's . . . especially watching them walking up all three open stairways.
The added bonus was having her heart shaped bottom in his face each step of the way.
He got the full sixty minute "Deluxe Victorian Gables Tour". The one described in her cottage brochure.
That way she explained, he'd be able to see the cottage as a prospective guest would--zero in on anything that needed fixing.
By the seventh room, he realized she was different from most of the people in the cottage association.
The thing he liked best was she didn't use a phony accent trying to sound educated and rich.
*******************
By the time Christina and J.J. had worked their way into the master suite, his list was getting detailed and lengthy.
Christina pointed out a window frame that needed to be replaced saying, "I'd like to get this done right away, the Timpson's think it looks like it might fall out on to their porch."
J.J. sized up the Timpson's house and said, "Theirs doesn't look like the rest of the places around here."
"Yes, they don't fit the mold. They live here year around."
"Their home is from a totally different era. Had to have been originally built as a year around home. Looks like an adaptation of a traditional brick tudor, seventy-five years old at the most."
"Yes, from what I've heard, the home's stayed in their family."
"I've heard of the Timpson's. Founders and big shots at the hospital. One of them is in my art class at the college"
"Oh, that's cool. Once I met a few Timpson's at a county benefit. But not really here enough to get to know the locals well."
**********************
While J.J. was busy measuring the window. Christina rambled rather than suffer the silence.
"The most memorable thing I recall about the Timpson's is the night I was sharing drinks with them in the gazebo as the sun set."
Sally Timson laughed and said, "When Earl and I want to go slumming we come over and visit you."
"I loved it at the time, but lately I've wondered if they meant it."
J. J. stopped measuring and said, "Could be they'd like to see your cottage torn down. Nothing then standing between them and the lake. With your lot being so close to the water, it could even be declared unbuildable."
*********************
Stunned, I excused myself. In the bathroom I took a couple of aspirin and thought about what he said.
My beloved cottage could very well be declared an old dump. Might even be condemned if it didn't get help soon.
Outside of decorating with my lifetime collection of antiques, I had left it basically untouched except for repairing the essentials that couldn't wait.
When John and I separated, I was so upset, I barely noticed he left me with any assets at all.
Later I was grateful that he had tried so hard to be fair, even after I had angrily told him to take everything.
Where would I be now if he had?
I was lucky the way it had all turned out. I couldn't imagine being happier living anywhere else on earth.
************************
Now in tough times, my net worth had diminished but not to the extent John's had.
Lakefront property had pretty much kept its value.
All I had to do now was figure out how to keep the taxes paid and cover basic repairs--keep it from falling down--and insurable.
As long as I could rent it out by the week to vacationers to make ends meet, I'd be okay. Besides I actually liked the idea of camping at the state park.
True, I could sell it, but who in hard economic times, wanted to buy an expensive summer cottage that needed a small fortune to bring it up to current standards?
*******************
As if he were reading my mind, he asked, "Have you had your place appraised recently?"
"Ten years ago. I would take a lot less now. Why do you ask?
"I might be interested in buying it if it you're still interested in selling it."
"Are you serious?"
"Afraid so. I love it. And you can't beat the location. It's a rare piece of property. I can't buy it immediately, but I may be able to within the year."
"I would love to discuss it with you but it's going to have to be another day. Right now I have to check into the hotel for the night. My company is doing the music entertainment for the coaches clinic. How about tomorrow at 4:00?"
"Sure, that'd be fine. In the meantime I'll complete the estimate on the work we've discussed. By the way, I will be
at that Coaches Beer Bust."
I felt my heart quicken as I tried to act cool and collected saying, "Oh yes, that's right, you're a foot ball coach. I will look forward to seeing you there."
As I watched him pull out of the driveway, I couldn't help but wonder if my guardian angel had sent me "J.J.
A man too good to be true? I hoped not.
In my heart, was a glimmer of hope, that he might indeed be "My Knight In Shinning Armor".
***********************
Instead of driving straight home, J.J. drove to a nearby roadside park, locked his doors and took out his throbbing engorged cock.
He needed relief. Immediately.
His thoughts quickly drifted to where he wanted them to be--
with Christina back at the cottage. God how he needed her right now.
It wasn't difficult to conjure up her image. Especially the one of her walking up all those stairs with him following right behind her, his face in her sweet little behind. How could he ever forget it?
He loved thinking of her. It was as if they had spent a year together in one afternoon.
Sitting there thinking of her, the very thought of her consumed and overwhelmed him. It was a good feeling.
Even the Lilly of the Valley scent of her hair filled up his nostrils as he imagined his lips on hers. What it would be like.
************************
Putting his truck's seat into a reclining position, he laid back to give his fantasy free reign.
Continuing to gently stroke his cock, he could see himself cupping her ass, caressing and molding it, making it all his.
Re-living his and Christina's afternoon, the memory of her
soothed him and fired him up at the same time.
He'd never forget it. All the same, it made him smile . . . long for her to come and bounce again in his face as they slowly climbed all three staircases--those forty-five steps of agonizing pleasure.
He slowed his stroking down, trying to savor every moment of every stair they climbed.
With his eyes still closed he sees her stumble . . . reaching out to keep her from falling, he catches her, to find his hands clasping swollen breasts.
She faces him, clings to him, at last submissive upon the stairs landing . . . He sucks on her as she gasps and arches into him.
He sees himself drifting lower and lower kissing her torso and then slipping between her legs so slick now with desire.
Stroking his cock, he imagined what it would be like to slide his fingers between the softness of her inner thighs as he played with her clit until she writhed beneath his touch.
Lost in the sensations of his delicious fantasy he soon felt an overwhelming need--an unmistakable rushing towards a thundering climax.
For too long he had denied himself. Two painful years
since his loved one had left him.
Today made it clear it was time to let her go . . . He would not feel guilty for needing another.
For his thoughts running wild and free and oh so loose.
No longer would he deny them. Christina or not. But for now she'd do just fine.
Positioning his trucks seat back to its limit, he began to increase his stroking speed.
It was easy to visualize himself between her legs.
Lifting his hips he thrust forward cock in hand, watching himself, convincing himself he was entering her hot sweet womanhood ever so slowly.
He could swear she was right there with him, hot, wet and oh so tight as he slid into her stroking himself, imagining she was urging him on, telling him to go deeper and faster.
Wanting it to last, he slowed it all down trying to resist the aching need that washed over him.
The grip on his cock tightened-- he had no trouble believing it was her--her kegal muscles tightening down around him with her thrusting back and forth on his big hard thick rod like a possessed banshee.
He called out her name and felt her arch upward towards him, her nails digging into his shoulders.
J.J felt his body jerk. Spasm after spasm of sheer pleasure
was his as he groaned and then thrust again, watching his warm thick seed fill up his hands.
At last he collapsed full length across his cushioned seat as if it were her body he lay on top to savor. . . to join with . . .
and he hoped, in her cottage soon.
***************
To Be Continued:
"Dear John" Part 4
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Babe
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