The drive from the city had been tiring. There seemed to be more than the usual number of idiots on the road today. Perhaps they, like us, were just hoping to take advantage of the long weekend. At least they were not coming to "our" woods. We had rented a cabin from a friend of ours last month. We needed a place to just get away and be alone, together.
Turning off the main road, we drive the mile and a half through the woods, on the stone lane, to the cabin. Nestled in the woods, the cabin is somewhat isolated. The nearest "neighbor" is about a quarter-mile hike through the trees. We don't know if anyone is there for the weekend, nor do we really care.
We unpack the car and quickly store our supplies and belongings. We agree it had been our good fortune to acquire the cabin. After taking a few minutes to look around, we talk of vague plans for our time here. Little do we know what the weekend holds in store for us. It is to be a weekend we will not soon forget.
Although tired from the trip, we are excited at being here. Deciding to sit on the porch for a while, we take the folding chairs outside, placing them side by side on the porch. We snuggle there on the porch, your head on my shoulder, as close together as we can get in our chairs.
The night air creeps through the trees and softly brushes over the front of the cabin, lifting the scent of your perfume and tickling our minds with the smell of honeysuckle, pine, and spruce. Here and there are the sounds of evening: the rhythmic chirping of crickets, a fluttering of wings as birds settle into their nests, and the quiet creaking of tree limbs. The world around us is preparing to bed down for the night and our thoughts are toward that end as well.
"Let's go for a walk" you suggest.
"Where would you like to go?"
"I don't know. Why don't we go down by the lake?"
"Sure, why not. " I take your hand and we leave the cabin porch.
The lake is but a short walk through the woods. We step into the clearing in front of the water. There, stretching out before us, lies the peaceful solitude of Lake Nepisiquit. Named for an Indian chief, the lake has remained untouched by the machines of man. Its quiet beauty is a reflection of times gone by and a tribute to those who would maintain the pristine quality of life around it.
The sky has a few clouds drifting through it tonight and the moon is three quarters full. I hold her close as we gaze out over the still water. The moonlight dances across the lake and gently caresses the darkness. Looking into your eyes, I can see the outline of the trees surrounding the lake. I hold you even closer and lower my lips to yours. Our lips meet in a soft kiss.
The smell of your perfume and the tenderness of your lips brings the beginnings of a hard-on to me. As we press ourselves together, I feel the warmth of your body and the imprint of your breasts on my chest. The soft kiss becomes one of rising passion, matched by my rising erection.
My hands begin roaming your body, tracing the outline through your clothes. I study your body as a blind man would - in braille - feeling each contour as I explore. I know your body as well as my own. Yet, each time I touch your it is as exciting as the first. The sight and the feel of your body always brings joy to my heart and hardness to my loins.