Step into the world of Yes, Mr. Brody, a retro small-town age gap romance set in 1959. In this steamy excerpt, tensions rise on a quiet summer day by the lake, where the lines between temptation and restraint blur. If you love sizzling attraction, vintage charm, and white hot tension that explodes into heat, you’re in the right place.
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This text is intended for adults. If you’re under 18, move away slowly and pretend you were never here.
At the Lake
Mr. Brody – POV.
The short drive was hot in more ways than one. With Max in the back and Stella up front, I’m struggling to keep my eyes on the road. She might have put more clothes on, but not many.
She’s all curves, smiles and perfectly bronzed skin. Her gingham blouse is buttoned down low and loosely knotted under her small, perfectly formed tits. The warm air rolls in through the open window, whipping her top into a frenzy, giving me a glimpse of the forbidden. Her face is almost angelic—sweetness and light, as if butter wouldn’t dare melt in that warm, wet mouth.
Looking down, I take in her legs—surprisingly long for her slight frame—bare where the frayed cut-off denim ends, a tease of rounded flesh leading into her thighs and beyond. She has a body made to be worshipped.
With one arm hanging loosely out the window and the other in her lap, she talks to Max, making him laugh as we near the lake. I’ve never seen such perfection. She’s gorgeous, smart and clearly adores Max.
Come on, Joseph. She could have her pick of men. You’re a single father, and old. Get a grip, man.
But what if I did? What if my hand found its way between those supple thighs, pressing toward her heat, sliding under her bikini to find her wet… ready… waiting for me?
“Dad.”
“Dad!”
“Eh? What, Max?”
My eyes snap into focus on the road ahead.
“We’re here, silly. Let’s go!”
The lake is quiet. Sheriff Harrison told me this was the best spot for a swim, and he wasn’t wrong. The shore slopes gently down to the water’s edge, leaving plenty of room for Max to play. A few square feet of countryside, and he’s happy for days. I see the perfect place to set up camp and head towards an impressively large low-hanging willow.
Max runs up the beach squealing, no doubt seeing something move.
“Max! We’ll be over here, OK? Don’t go in the lake on your own.”
Walking across the sand, I take in the sweep of wilderness beyond the shore and let out a slow sigh. I’d had my doubts, but moving to Raven Falls was the right choice. It’s perfect.
“Look, Mr. Brody.”
Stella’s arm grazes mine as she points toward a goose leading her goslings across the water.
“I wouldn’t want to get between her and her babies,” I say, just making small talk.
“That’s for sure. A mother’s instinct to protect must be a powerful thing. Did you know geese will sometimes raise another’s baby?”
“Really?”
“Yeah. If a gosling gets separated from its family, it’ll attach itself to the nearest adult goose. If it’s lucky, it gets a new mom. Pretty neat, right?”
“Yeah, I’d say. You think about kids, Stella? You’re young. Got your whole life ahead of you.”
“Hadn’t thought about it much until recently. Until you and Max moved in.”
She looks up at me with the sweetest smile. Has caring for Max made her want kids, or put her off for life?
I spread the blanket beneath the dappled shade of the tree, and strip off my shirt and shorts. Next to Stella’s lithe, delicate frame, I feel every inch of my bulk.
Max is having the time of his life out on the beach, something we sure didn’t see much of back in New York. Sunlight glints off something below, drawing my attention back to Stella.
She peels her blouse over her head, the white bikini top beneath bright against her deep tan. Her gaze catches mine as she works open the buttons of her tight shorts, hips swaying in a slow teasing wiggle, until the denim slips down and stops at her feet.
“That’s better. A little air on the skin does wonders for the soul. Summer is hands-down my favorite time of year. You wait and see how cold the winters are around here.”
Summers were never much fun in the muggy heat of New York, but here… I think it could soon become my favorite season too.
“I know what you mean. It’s beautiful here.”
Smiling, she touches my elbow and turns to face the water.
“Time to top up my tan, Mr. Brody. Would you mind rubbing some Coppertone on my back? I don’t want to burn.”
She stretches out on her belly, her taut body sending a sharp twinge through my cock. Fuck. How am I supposed to touch her without going up in flames? Those bikini bottoms aren’t helping—they make me want to rip them off, bury myself deep, and fuck her until she whimpers beneath me.
Jesus. I need to cool off. Hit the water. Do something before she notices this hard-on.
“Sure,” I say, keeping my tone as even as I can.
“Thanks. It’s in my purse.”
The lotion is warm against my already heated skin as I rub it into my palms. Kneeling beside her, I fight the urge to stare at her ass. At the way the nylon clings to her every curve, slipping between her thighs as if mocking me.
“Is this OK?” I ask, easing the cream over her shoulders.
“Yes, Mr. Brody, perfect. But you might be more comfortable doing it from behind.”
“You mean kneeling over you?”
“Yes. I trust you.” She tilts her head, smiling, those glassy blue eyes sparkling at me.
Well, I’m not sure you should.
I shuffle forward, lifting my left knee and swinging it over her back to plant it on the blanket. As I shift into place—a position I haven’t found myself in for years—Stella lies beneath me, her ass just below my hips. Her glistening skin begs me to unhook the metal clasp keeping her breasts concealed.
“Like this?” I murmur, sliding my hands over the slick temptation of her back.
“Uh huh. Your hands are very big, Mr. Brody… I bet they could wrap all the way around my waist.”
And other places too…
“Yeah,” I say with a light chuckle. “They’re pretty big, all right. Okay, I think you’re well-covered now.”
“Would you mind doing the rest of me while you’re there? I really don’t want to burn.”
Fuck! What is she doing? Either she’s playing with me, or just the sweetest, most innocent thing I’ve ever met.
“Sure.”
I move back on my haunches, knees either side of hers.
“You don’t have to squat up there, Mr. Brody. I won’t break.”
The things going through my head… I wouldn’t be so sure.
I tug at the front of my trunks as my cock hardens painfully. God, I hope Max doesn’t get bored anytime soon. I feel the burn of her flesh as it meets mine. Her ass lifts—just enough to greet me. It could be nothing, a trick of my mind, if I didn’t see that subtle dip in her lower back or catch the faintest moan.
My hands move over her with more confidence now, my hard-on drowning out everything else. She eases back against me, teasing, tempting me to forget I’m a father—or a good man.
Good be damned, I deserve this. I’ve paid my dues.
My hands roam down to the curve of her waist. I hesitate, wanting too much, knowing better… but my cock’s calling the shots now, and I’ve ignored him far too long.
Softer now, my touch drifts to the thin barrier between us—the white nylon that keeps her tight, young cunt locked up safe. God, the things I’d do if I were twenty-one again.
“You can slide that down a little if it’s easier, Mr. Brody. The last thing I want is a big old tan line on my behind.”
She giggles. The ripple of her ass brushes my cock, and for a moment I think I might spill right here, all over her.
But I keep going.
With two fingers hooked at the curve of her shiny cheeks, I slip under the elastic and ease it back towards me. Slow. Careful. Just enough to reveal her faint tan line.
“Don’t stop. Need to get it all good and creamed up.”
Creamed up? Jesus. I can’t help myself. Sliding her bottoms lower, I wrap a hand around my cock as it strains against my trunks, gripping hard around the head—half to punish, half to push myself closer to release. A groan slips out.
“Not getting sunstroke are you, Mr. Brody?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. I’m fine.”
Her bikini is bunched high on her thighs, my cock burning as I drink her in. Those wet lips, the slick glaze along her inner thighs, the dark, tight hole that winks as she shifts.
“Like this?” I ask, my voice unsteady.
“Uh huh. Perf…”
“Daddy! Hey, Dad. Come look at this. Look at what I found!”
Max’s voice yanks me back to reality—like I’ve just been sucked through one of those space vortexes he loves in his comic books.
“Dad, look!”
You’re a single father with responsibilities, not some drunk teenager. The twenty-three-year-old who watches your son is practically coming as you hover over her soaked pussy. Enough, Joseph!
“Better see what the little rascal’s found.” I spring to my feet and head toward Max, who’s holding something high in the air like a trophy.
My trunks are so damn tight there’s no hiding my hard-on. At the last second, I veer for the water, diving headfirst as soon as it’s deep enough. The shock hits me like the cold shower I need, killing the animal urge in an instant.
“Be right there, Max. Just need to cool off.”
What the hell was I thinking? He’s a good kid. He deserves better than this. Jumping the first woman who’s been in his life in years is the fastest way to ruin everything—for all of us.
I dive under the crystal water once more, surfacing on the swim back to shore feeling lighter, clearer.
Max is proudly showing off his newfound collection of shells as I reach them. He clearly adores her, and I know she thinks the world of him. Is it so crazy?
As the sun dips lower, Stella heads back to gather our things while I help Max collect the last of his treasures.
“Have you had a nice day, Max?”
“Oh yes, Dad. The best. We should come here every day… with Stella.”
I laugh at his innocence, at how simple life seems when you’re seven. He likes her—so of course he’d want to spend more time with her.
“You like her, don’t you?”
“She’s the best! She plays with me all the time and even makes peanut butter cookies.” His leans in, voice dropping to a whisper. “They’re better than Grandma’s.”
“In that case… how about we see more of her?”
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