Sally's Slow Simmer

Mr. Bridges' house was located far out in the country, on a small hillside overlooking the valley. The property was surrounded by thick, old trees, giving the place a delightful air of seclusion. The house itself was immense, styled after a French chateau. Sally found the house key beneath the doormat and let herself into the kitchen.

The kitchen was small but well equipped. She noticed a sheet of yellow legal pad paper taped to the refrigerator door with the word Sally written at its top in bold, red letters. She pulled the paper down and read the note:

"Make yourself at home. Told neighbors and police you re here. Eat whatever food is in fridge before it goes bad. Cable TV control thing is in drawer of TV stand. Hot tub not working - Man is coming to fix it sometime this week (sorry for inconvenience)."

Sally spent most of her first day exploring the labyrinth of rooms, then decided to check out the property. As she stepped out onto the sundeck on the first floor, she saw the small hot-tub, which looked just large enough to fit one person.

By the second day, she was feeling comfortably at home. In the morning, she lounged around the den, reading a Harold Robbins novel.

After lunch, Sally decided to work on her tan. She went to her room and stripped off her blue blouse and white slacks, tossing them on the bed. She unfastened her bra and dropped it on top of the rest of her clothes. For a moment she stood before the full length mirror, examining her body. Her hands cupped the firm mounds of her large, upturned breasts, each tipped with rosy-pink nipples, and gently kneaded the two globes between her fingers. Then her hands slipped down her silky skin to her narrow waist and wide hips. She patted herself on the tummy, just beneath the depression of her deep, almond-shaped navel, checking to see how taut the flesh was. At twenty four, the muscle tone of her abdomen was still tight, without a trace of flab.

Sally opened her suitcase and took out the cherry-red string bikini she had splurged on for this vacation. She slipped the two tiny triangles of fabric over her breasts, and tied the narrow cord in back. The cups of the bikini top were barely large enough to cover her nipples. Stepping out of her sheer panties, she slipped on the red string bottom, picked up her paperback, a bottle of suntan lotion, her sunglasses and a blanket, and headed for the sundeck.

As she stepped through the doorway to the sundeck, she was startled to see a young man, dressed in blue overalls, laying on his side next to the hot-tub. The man sensed her presence, and rolled over backwards to look up.

"Hi. I m Steve. Mr. Bridges asked me to come up and fix the hot-tub while he was away. "

"I'm Sally. I'm watching the house while he's away," she said, and spread her blanket out on the far side of the sundeck from where he was working.

"Yeah... two weeks in France... must be nice to be rich..."

Sally sat down on the blanket, and poured some tanning lotion into the palm of her hand. She smeared the creamy white fluid over her thighs and legs, then over both arms and shoulders. Laying down on her back, she slowly spread the thick liquid over her flat stomach, and finished by carefully anointed the skin which bulged from beneath the minuscule cups of her bikini top. The repairman watched her out of the corner of his eye. Lying still on the blanket, she could feel the bright sun penetrating deep into her flesh, warming her.

As he worked, Steve drank in Sally's delicious body. The summer sun shimmered off the oily suntan lotion, accentuating every curve and line of her body.

After half an hour, the noise from the area of the hot-tub ceased. She opened one eye and saw the repair man standing over her.

"I'll have to go back to the shop for a new part. The thermostat is completely shot on that thing," he said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at the hot-tub. "I'll be back tomorrow afternoon. You gonna be here?"

Sally nodded.

"Yeah... it would nice to see what a hot-tub feels like." she said. In her home town back in Iowa, hot-tubs were an alien notion, and she hadn't been in New York City long enough to meet anyone who owned one.

Alone again, Sally drifted off for a short nap. When she awoke, she decided to go back into the house and start dinner.

The next afternoon, Sally looked out the glass doors of the den and saw the repairman's van pulled into the back yard. The man started to work on the hot-tub immediately.

Sally opened the sliding glass doors and stepped out onto the sundeck dressed in her red bikini again, a pair of cutoff jeans that rode low on her hips over the skimpy bottom. She watched Steve the repairman at work.

"Half an hour more, and you ll be on your way to hot-tub heaven. I gotta finish wiring up this new thermostat, and you re all set to find out what a really hot hot-tub feels like... "

On schedule, Steve rapped on the glass door.

"I m done. The hot-tub awaits you..."

Sally followed him out to the edge of the tub.

"The temperature's not all the way up yet, but it should be comfortable. It will warm up a lot more..." he said.

"These are the controls. Press this one to start the water jets, like this." He pushed the button, and the water immediate began to seethe as a million bubbles swirled to the surface. "Water temperature is pretty much pre-set by the thermostat. Try it out."

Sally looked at him, with a hesitant smile on her face.

"Go ahead. You ll love it."

Coyly, she turned her back on him and slipped her cutoff jeans off. She stepped up on the stairs to the hot-tub, then lowered herself into the body-temperature water. The swirling water churned around the bottom half of her body, the bubbles feeling like a million tiny fingers playing over her skin. She lowered herself into the tank, immersing herself in the churning water.

Sally gasped.

"It's incredible..." she squeeled.

Sally closed her eyes and placed her feet on the edge of the hot-tub, half floating in the water, lost in the exquisite sensation of the water churning and bubbling against her sensitive skin.

Suddenly, she felt a pair of hands grip her ankles tightly, and pull. Immediately, her legs were lifted into the air, submerging Sally's head beneath the water. As the water jets pumped against her face and up her nose, and she struggled to keep from drowning, she was vaguely aware of someone tightly tying her ankles together.

After what seemed like an eternity, the hands released her legs and they plopped back into the water. Sally bobbed to the surface, blinded, sputtering and gasping for air. As she fought to catch her breath, the hands grabbed her arms and pinioned them behind her back. Sally tried to cry out, but only water dribbled from her mouth.

Deftly, Steve squeezed her arms between his knees and tied them together at the wrists. Once the woman was securely bound, he released his hold on her. He returned to her feet, lifting them slightly out of the water, dunking the woman's face beneath the surface once more. He quickly tied her knees together. Finally, he passed a length of the white cord between her legs, wrapping it around the lashings around her ankles, and tied the free end to the railing of the sundeck.

Sally popped back up to the surface, coughing.

Steve bent over the control panel and fiddled with the thermostat control, then walked back to his van. With her hands tied behind her, and her legs tied to the railing, Sally discovered that she was unable to lift herself out of the water. She also discovered that if she struggled, her head would instantly sink beneath the water. Frozen in terror, she floated on the surface, trying not to move a muscle.

Steve returned to the sundeck carrying three white buckets covered in plastic wrap.

"Please..." she begged. "Don't hurt me. I do whatever you want... just let me go... "

Steve didn t seem to hear her and headed back for his van. A few minutes later he returned, with more pails and a large paper sack piled in a new-looking forest-green garden cart.

"Please... please don t hurt me..." she repeated, her voice trembling with fear.

Steve peeled the plastic wrap off the top of each bucket, stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans. He dumped the contents of the first bucket into the water of the hot-tub. Sally looked down at the little yellowish-white bits floating on the surface of the water for a moment, then realized that the little bits were chopped celery.

"What are you doing?" Sally said, her voice quivering.

"Making soup."

Sally stared up at him, open-mouthed, trying to understand what he meant. Steve seized the opportunity, picking up an apple from one of the buckets and jamming it into Sally's mouth with all his might. Her teeth closed around the hard bulge of the fruit, lodging it securely in place.

He tore open a bag of potatoes and dumped the whole of the bag into the water. The heavy vegetables bounced off her belly and thighs as they plunged toward the bottom of the hot-tub.

Steve sat down on the edge of the hot-tub.

"A proper meal should always begin with a good soup. Then a salad. Tonight, a simple salad... lettuce with a vinaigrette dressing... nothing fancy. After the salad, the main course... "

"And this evening, of course, you are the main course... "

He dipped his hand into the hot-tub, reaching behind her back to untie the top of her bikini. The small piece of red cloth floated to the surface, revealing the two large white hemispheres of Sally's breasts. He gently squeezed one of the mounds between his fingers.

"Mmmm... nice.. "

His hand travelled down her torso to her belly, then over her side to search out the thin straps of her bikini bottoms. A second later, the red bottoms were floating next to the top on the surface of the churning water. His hand returned to caress her abdomen, his finger poking gently into the deep recess of her belly button, then probing the deep cleft between her legs.

"Very nice..." he murmured.

He pulled his arm out of the water, and turned his attention to the rest of the pails lined up on the sundeck. Sally watched in horror as he emptied out heaps of quartered tomatoes, diced onion, chopped parsley and slivered green pepper into the water in which she was soaking. Finally, he emptied a small paper bag of spices -- handfuls of bay leaves and thyme and peppercorns and paprika into the churning water.

He dipped the ladle into the rolling water and raised it to his lips and sipped.

"Needs salt..." he said, and wandered towards the kitchen.

The water was becoming uncomfortably hot. Sally strained against the confining ropes around her legs in a desperate attempt to free herself, but merely succeeded in sinking temporarily to the bottom of the hot-tub. The spices stung her eyes.

Steve returned to the side of the hot-tub with a box of salt, and poured several handfuls onto the surface of the water. He ladled up another mouthful of water.

"Perfect."

He sat down on the edge of the hot-tub, staring down at Sally's nude form floating on the surface.

"That new thermostat will have the water up to boiling in about half an hour... its a very efficient unit." he told her.

The temperature of the water continued to rise. Sally started to squirm, sinking to the bottom again.

Steve walked back to the house, and began setting a place for himself at the dining room table. He found a bottle of burgundy in the liquor cabinet, and placed it in the refrigerator to chill. His dinner arrangements completed, there was nothing to do except wait. Sitting down in the den he picked up the novel she had been reading, and read a few pages before dropping it into the trash can. He thumbed through some of the magazines lying on the coffee table, and became engrossed in several of the features in a recent issue of GOURMAND magazine.

After a few hours had passed, he returned to the side of the hot-tub. The water was boiling, and Sally's body was floating just beneath the surface. The two globular mounds of her breasts protruded a few inches above the surface of the steaming water, the skin reddened to the color of a freshly cooked lobster. The soup which bubbled and churned around her was fragrant. He dipped the ladle once again into the hot-tub, blew on the hot liquid and tasted. The vegetables and spices had melded together perfectly with the flavor of her flesh.

He switched off the water jets and the heating element. Untying the length of rope which held her ankles, he pulled her feet-first out of the tub and dumped her unceremoniously into the garden cart. He cut through the white clothesline which bound her legs and arms together. He dunked a pitcher into the hot-tub, filling it with a quart of the soup. He scooped a few potatoes out of the tub, and balanced them precariously on the woman's steaming belly. The bright pink woman's arms and legs hung limply over the edges of the cart as he pushed it into the dining room.

He placed a white beach towel in the center of the polished walnut dining room table, then hoisted the nude woman onto the towel. Patting her legs and torso and arms dry with a second bath towel, he carefully straightened her legs and arms along the length of the table. He placed a sprig of parsley in the cleft between her legs, and another between her breasts, to complete the arrangement.

Steve filled his bowl with soup, and filled his glass with burgundy.

Picking up the carving knife, he placed it beneath her right breast and began carving. The boiled flesh separated easily from the bone. He set the the large mass of meat on his plate.

The soup was superb, rich with the flavour of the woman's flesh. Steve skipped the salad, eager to taste the main course. He poked his fork into Sally s breast, and cut off a thick slice. He closed his eyes and placed the breast meat into his mouth. The flavor was rich and sweet, the texture of the meat delicate and moist. His sliced off the brown disk of her nipple next, and placed it on his tongue. He allowed his tongue to play against her slightly rubbery nipple before chewing it and swallowing it. Hungrily, he consumed the whole of her breast, washing the superb meat down with an equally superb burgundy.

His hunger still unsated, Steve studied the woman's body, trying to decide what part he would try next. He sliced a small piece of meat from her tummy and sampled it. It proved to be exquisitely tender, so he carved a thick steak from the center of the woman's abdomen, adorned with her almond-shaped belly-button at its center. He discovered that the flesh of her abdomen was subtely different in texture: the flesh was firmer, yet still moist and succulent. He sliced off another piece, then another, slowly eating his way towards her navel. As he neared the rim of her belly button, he cut out a two inch square of meat surrounding it and stuffed it into his mouth. He chewed the delectable morsel slowly, then swallowed. By the time he had consumed the rest of the slab of plump belly meat, he was nearly full.

He looked down at Sally's partially eaten body, his gaze stopping at the neatly trimmed patch of blonde hair between her thighs. Steve instantly decided to finsish his exquisite meal with the perfect dessert course.

He pulled Sally's body towards the edge of the table, until her buttocks rested on the very edge of the table. Spreading her legs apart, he carefully balanced her scarlet thighs on his shoulders. His thumbs traced the soft, fleshy lips of her labia, then spread the lips gently apart. He studied the inviting entrance to her vagina for moment, then pressed his mouth against the opening. The short, curly-kinky blonde hair that covered her mons tickled his nose as he nibbled away at her plump lips, then chewed off the tiny button of meat that was centered in the arch of flesh over her love tunnel.

Pushing himself away from the table, he decided he would worry about readying the leftovers for the refrigerator later. His stomach was too full of the blonde woman's delectable flesh to worry about that now. He started planning his menu for tomorrow. For breakfast, he would start on one of her inviting, meaty thighs. He would take her other breast to work on a roll for lunch on the job. He suddenly remembered what his morning job would be: the hot tub of the big- breasted brunette over on Spring Street. When he had finished off the blonde's meat, maybe he would try a brunette. For dinner tomorrow night, he contemplated the blonde's long graceful leg... maybe with a mint sauce. Or possibly a rack of her thickly-fleshed ribs.

Still contemplating his dinner menu, Steve eased himself into one of the overstuffed arm chairs in the den, looseened his belt and drifted off for a nap.