Chapter 3: Anointed for the Altar

The word "deal" hung in the air between us, a binding contract sealed not with a handshake, but with my utter and complete surrender. A slow, triumphant grin spread across Sarah’s face. She tossed my shorts onto the hot flagstone of the patio, a discarded symbol of my former autonomy. “Good boy,” she purred, the words a condescending pat on the head that paradoxically sent a thrill through me. “Now, get out of the pool. Our first game involves tanning oil, and Jean needs a very, very thorough application.”

My movements were stiff, robotic, as I hoisted myself out of the water. The cool air hitting my wet, naked skin was a shock, raising goosebumps despite the blazing sun. Every nerve ending felt hyper-aware. I was completely exposed, standing before them with nothing to hide the physical evidence of my conflicting state of arousal and anxiety. My gaze flickered to my shorts, lying crumpled a few feet away, but a sharp look from Sarah froze me in place. The deal was compliance. The clothes stayed off.

Sarah retrieved a bottle of tanning oil from her beach bag, tossing it to me. The plastic was warm from the sun. “Jean’s first,” she commanded, patting the empty lounge chair beside her. “Don’t be shy, Josh. We need full coverage.”

Jean moved with a languid grace that was mesmerizing. She lay face down on the lounger, her bikini top unclasped so her back was bare. Her body was a landscape of soft curves and gentle slopes, a stunning contrast to Sarah’s taut, athletic frame. Her ass, clad in a small piece of fabric, was full and high, a perfect target that seemed to mock my frayed composure.

I knelt beside the lounger, my knees unsteady on the hot stone. The air was thick with the scent of coconut and chlorine, a heady, intoxicating mix. My hands were shaking as I squirted a generous amount of the glistening oil into my palm. It felt slick and warm.

“Go on,” Sarah prompted from her chair, her legs crossed, watching me like a hawk. She was the director, and this was her opening scene.

I took a deep breath and placed my hands on Jean’s shoulders. Her skin was warm and smooth. I started to rub the oil in, my touch hesitant at first, clinical. But it was impossible to remain detached. The act itself was intimate, my palms gliding over her shoulder blades, down the elegant curve of her spine. Jean let out a soft sigh of contentment, a sound that vibrated through my hands and straight into my groin.

“A little lower, Josh,” Sarah instructed, her voice laced with amusement. “And you’re missing some spots. You’ll have to get a bit closer to do it right.”

I knew what she was doing. Every command was a deliberate push, a test of my compliance. To reach the middle of Jean’s back properly, I had to lean over her, my body hovering precariously.

“That’s not going to work,” Sarah sighed with theatrical impatience. “You can’t be afraid to get in there. Straddle her, Josh. It’s the only way to get the right leverage.”

My blood ran cold, then hot. Straddle her? The request was so audacious, so far beyond any conceivable boundary, that I could only stare at her in disbelief. But the deal replayed in my head. Compliance. And the tantalizing, impossible promise of my own fantasy gift. This was the price.

Jean shifted slightly, as if making room for me. It was a silent invitation. Cursing Sarah in my head, I swung one leg over the lounger, then the other, settling myself over Jean’s hips. I was straddling her, my knees on either side of her thighs. The position was shockingly intimate. And through the thin fabric of her bikini bottom, I could feel the heat and softness of her perfect ass pressing directly against my groin.

It was torture. My already-hardening erection, which I’d been desperately trying to ignore, now had nowhere to hide. It swelled against her, a brazen, undeniable statement of my body’s betrayal. I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, my control hanging by a single, frayed thread.

I forced my hands to move, rubbing the oil onto her lower back, my knuckles brushing the delicate strap of her bikini bottoms. Jean squirmed beneath me, a deliberate, sensual movement that ground my erection firmly against her. A choked gasp escaped my lips.

“See? Much better,” Sarah said, her voice dripping with smug satisfaction. She knew exactly what was happening, what I was feeling. This agonizing tease was part of her design.

After what felt like an eternity of this exquisite torment, Sarah finally declared, “Okay, her back is done. Your turn, babe.”

I practically scrambled off Jean, my body humming with frustrated energy. I thought the worst was over. I was wrong. This was just the warm-up.

Jean sat up, her skin glistening, and turned to face me. There was a triumphant, knowing look in her eyes. She reached behind her back to re-clasp her bikini top, but then she paused. Her fingers went to the knot at the base of her neck instead.

“Actually,” she said, her voice a low, throaty murmur that was meant only for me. “If you’re going to do it properly, we should probably get rid of these.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, she untied the strings. The fabric fell away, revealing the full, breathtaking glory of her large, perky breasts. My breath hitched in my throat. My gaze was locked on her, unable to look away. Sarah was silent, a watchful presence in the background, but this moment belonged to Jean. This was her move, her direct, devastating assault.

But she wasn't finished. Her hands moved down to her hips, to the small ties of her bikini bottoms. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, desperate drumbeat. This isn't a game anymore, a voice screamed in my head. Any pretense of a simple prank, of innocent teasing, was being stripped away right along with her clothes.

She untied the knots, and the last piece of fabric pooled at her feet on the lounger. She stood up, completely, gloriously naked. She was stunning. A goddess of soft curves and sun-kissed skin, offered up to me on the altar of my own backyard.

She took a step closer, her eyes holding mine, a silent challenge mixed with a raw, undeniable invitation. The air crackled with a tension so thick I could taste it.

“Now,” Jean whispered, her voice sending a tremor through my entire body as she held out her arms, offering her entire self to me. “You can’t miss any spots.”