Lawn chair

The day of your sister's next soccer game begins just like all the days since the last one. The three of you eat breakfast together, and the two of you leave for school together. The one difference is that your sister is wearing her game outfit, the sexy athletic one, to school, just as all the soccer players do on game days. School passes a little more slowly than usual, because you are counting off the seconds until you can burst into the door at home. It seems as if it takes eons, but eventually, the final bell rings, and you have to restrain yourself to walk instead of run back to your house. You have not masturbated in several days, and you get hard just thinking about the coming hours.

Upon reaching your house, you fumble to open the front door's lock, and on entering, instantly notice another business card on the floor. This time the curtains are open, and the windows are cracked open as well, letting a cool fall breeze circulate through the house. Picking it up, you find it to contain instructions, written in tiny print: "Take off clothes in your room. Go to backyard. Sit in lawn chair. Wear sunglasses." You hustle down to your bedroom, strip off your clothing, hustle back upstairs, and go out the back door.

Your backyard is a nice one. Perhaps a hundred feet wide as well as deep, it is gently sloped, and ringed with many old tall trees. Around the perimiter there is a six-foot privacy fence, and at many places along the lot line, lush shrubs obscure the fence, giving the yard a pleasantly green feel. You have a deck off of part of the house, built about four feet off the ground, with a recessed area underneath it containing a hot-tub in a sort of three-season porch. Between your father and your mother your family makes quite a bit of money, and they live well as a consequence.

You survey the backyard. It feels a little odd to be outside without a stitch of clothing, but with the privacy fence, it does not concern you greatly. You do not see your mother anywhere, but you do see a single lawn chair sitting in the back corner of the lot in a patch of sun. You walk across the yard to it. Reaching it, you again look around, but do not see your mother. It is a very temperate fall day, so the chill outside is not bad at all. You think back to your instructions, and recall that what remains of them is to "Sit in lawn chair. Wear sunglasses." You see next to the chair a bottle of baby oil, and on the chair an odd looking pair of goggles. Lifting up the goggles, you sit down on the chair. Assuming that these are the sunglasses from the instructions, you put them on, to find that they goggles painted black, and are effectively blindfolds. They do keep the sun out of your eyes, though, you think to yourself.

You have not been sitting in the chair for more than thirty seconds when you hear the snap of the bottle of baby oil next to you. Next thing you know, hands gently push your legs apart, so that you are sitting with them open. Cool baby oil is poured all over your groin and thighs, and soft oily hands rub it in to your skin. Your cock, which had drooped slightly in the fall coolness, is back to full attention by the time the oil is rubbed in. The hands are lifted off you, and you hear the snap of a camera taking a picture. What follows is anybody's guess, but it feels as if your cock is enclosed in a single, soft hand.