Knocked up by the Mechanic

I stepped inside the pool house that seemed to be kept at a chilly sixty-five degrees. It felt like heaven to get out of that relentless sun and feel cool air against my skin. It took my eyes a second to adjust in the dark, but when they did, I could instantly tell that the fucking pool house was more decked out than my own home. A giant white and blue living room, fully stacked kitchen with a marble island, flat screen television that looked like a movie theatre screen and a full view of the blue shimmering pool. I walked down the hallway trying to find the bathroom.

On my left, I spotted a room with a huge mirror and stepped in. There were a few stalls arranged with slatted white wooded doors like large shutters. A new-agey music trickled out of the sound system. I pushed a door open and evacuated my bladder in one of the Brook’s pristine toilets.

Must be nice. I thought to myself. Accommodations fit for a king. I shook off and flushed, careful not to drip on the bowl which had never seen a drop of urine out of place. I zipped my fly and made it to go when Harley walked into the bathroom.

She was completely naked, and in her fist held what looked like an assortment of bikinis. I swallowed hard and tried to regulate my breathing, wrecked my brain for the right way to exit the situation. I silently prayed she’d see my feet and run from the room screaming. I closed my eyes and opened them, and Harley was still there, in front of the huge mirror, in all of her fucking glory.

She had a body that was an anatomy lesson in perfection, from her hourglass hips, to her round little perky butt with its cute and innocent tan lines. Her neck was long and her collarbone delicate and elegant. Her pear-shaped, medium sized breasts with their pink nipples that pointed up to the sun, were real and so mouthwatering, my cock stood at attention. When she stepped into the first bikini, a silver one, she leaned forward and her juicy little butt spread before my eyes. I reached down and gripped my shaft, unable to avert my eyes. Harley straightened as she shimmied the bottoms up over her neat little landing strip over her pussy. She turned frontwards and back and checked herself out in the mirror. I gripped and squeezed my shaft, but I couldn’t look away from the most erotic show I’d ever seen.

Next, she tied the little top behind her back, making her nipples tip up even more with her arms stretched behind her. I wanted to latch onto her nipple and suck until she saw stars, nibble her two gorgeous breasts until she was so wet between her legs, her desire stained her swimsuit.

She flipped the top up and tied the two remaining strings behind her neck. Then she arranged her breasts, first adjusting the top and then reaching in the suit to prop them up and give her cleavage. Her nipples reacted to the touch or perhaps the frigid air in the room. I stroked my dick through the rough material of my shorts and imagined taking her in front of this mirror.

Harley turned and inspected her butt, lifting the sides of the suit to make it ride even higher, when her plump little cheeks popped out the bottom, I sucked a ragged breath in to keep from groaning out loud. She looked in the mirror and pouted. If she wasn’t happy with what she saw, the girl was completely blind. Her beauty was unparalleled and her tight little body was about to make me bust a nut in my work shorts just from watching her put her bikini on.

She brushed her long brown hair and twisted it up into a top knot. I stood there, a peeping tom, wondering how the fuck I’d explain away this situation when her dad threatened to fire me. Fucking Delacourt set me up, wanted to see me fail because I didn’t pay enough attention to her. Maybe the girl hated so hard because she knew, deep down, with all of her surgeries and injections, she couldn’t hold a freaking candle to her friend.

Harley was a goddess and she had no idea how breathtaking she was.

Chapter 3

HARLEY

I don’t know why I had so many hang ups about my body. Probably because Gianna looked perfect and was constantly tweaking what God gave her anyway. I’d never do any surgeries, that I knew for sure. Firstly, because I hated needles and secondly, because I looked exactly like my mom. My face and my body were the spitting image of my mother’s when she was my age, and I’d never change any of it because it was one of the easiest ways to keep her with me. It was all I had left of her.