Ten days on Cape Cod with my fiancé's extended family.
This was supposed to be our vacation. Theoretically. Hypothetically. But here I was, trapped in a musty old cabin with a dozen people I barely know, with no bars on my cell phone, and nothing to read but 20-year-old paperback spy thrillers.
Plus, I was sharing a room with his kid sister. Because Gary and I weren't officially married yet.
"Does your mom seriously not know we're having sex?" I said under my breath, an edge creeping into my voice.
"She knows, Katie. She's just kind of old-fashioned. You know... 'Not under my roof!'... that sort of thing. Please don't make an issue of it."
"Fine," I said, flinging my suitcase on the bottom bunk. "Whatever... it's all fine."
His kid sister frowned. "That's mine," she said. "You get the top bunk."
* * *
On the second day the thunderstorms started and it rained for three days straight. There was nowhere to go, and nothing to do, and the boredom was so concentrated I could taste it in the back of my throat.
Plus, there was no place to be alone. Every room was filled with people chatting or cooking or laughing or playing ping pong. They were all perfectly friendly of course, but there's only so much socializing you can do with people you barely know, and after the first day I was desperate for some solitude.
I suppose I could have just hung out with Gary, but I was pissed with him for having sold his yearly family reunion as a romantic beach getaway. We weren't actively fighting because we were never alone long enough to have a proper fight, but whenever I spoke to him, I was super polite so he knew he was angry with him. And that made him angry with me (for not being a good enough sport about it all I guess) so after the first day he mostly ignored me and spent most of his time with his cousin Julie who was a stuck-up bitch with blonde hair extensions.
To make matters worse, I was incredibly horny.
It had been weeks since Gary and I had last fucked and almost as long since I'd last masturbated because I'd been working like crazy in the run-up to the trip. I had this huge reservoir of repressed desire which I had intended to expend in multiple sessions of smoking hot beach-house sex with my sweetie. Only now my sweetie and I were barely talking to each other. My sweetie and I were barely talking to each other and I couldn't even take care of business by myself because although I'd been a smart, modern girl and packed a vibe, there was no opportunity to use it. Not when his kid sister was in the bottom bunk and I was staying in a house with one bathroom for twelve adults.
So, the reservoir was
full
. It was more than full; it was overflowing and the rain was still coming down. I was wet when I woke up, and wet when I fell asleep, and wet when I was making small talk with Gary's mom, and while I was losing at Monopoly to Gary's nephews. And all I could think about was cock. Not my fiancé's cock obviously because I was pissed at him, but the bigger, better, harder cocks of a collection of fantasy boytoys who somehow managed to be both achingly tender and thrillingly forceful as they individually and collectively penetrated each and every one of my moist orifices in a variety of acrobatic and increasingly improbable positions.
* * *
When the rain finally stopped, I was out of the house like a shot. Not that there was anywhere to go. I didn't have a car, and the cabin was surrounded by miles of woods on three sides and a lake on the fourth. I picked my way barefoot across the rocky beach to the old boathouse down by the water; I could hear voices coming from the house behind me, but I was actually alone for the first time in days.
I walked out to the end of the boathouse dock and flopped down in a weathered Adirondack chair facing the water. The sun was just starting to break through the clouds. It felt exquisite on my exposed skin, so I stripped off my top and shorts and sat there in just my bathing suit, staring out over the wind-ruffled water. It was a red bikini, skimpier than I usually wore, just enough fabric to cover the essentials. I'd intended to surprise Gary by wearing it on our trip, but now I didn't care if he saw me in it or not.
I closed my eyes and settled back in the chair, enjoying the breeze and thinking about how good it would feel to have a cock inside me. A big thick cock with a fat vein running up one side, buried deep in my wet little pussy. And big strong hands holding my thighs wide open, while that big thick cock pumped in and out of me, slow and steady and unrelenting.
And suddenly it occurred to me that, if I wanted to, I could touch myself. I was all alone out on the dock and no one could see me from the house. If I wanted to I could slide my hand down inside my skimpy little bikini bottoms and no one would know. I could slip two fingers inside my poor neglected little cunny, and finger-fuck myself until I came.
It's an indication of just how frustrated and horny I was, that finger-fucking myself to orgasm in broad daylight about 50 yards from my future in-laws seemed like an entirely reasonable course of action. Brilliant idea, Katie! This will go great! No potential downside whatsoever!
So, I slouched down further in the chair and let my legs fall slightly open and rested my hand on my stomach. I started softly teasing my bare tummy with my fingertips--drawing little lines and circles and swirls, the whole time thinking how glorious it would be to have a big hard cock in my pussy and maybe another in my mouth. Each time I moved my hand my fingers wandered a little lower, at first just tracing along the waistband of my bikini, then gradually dipping below the waistband, until they brushed against the edge of my bush.
My other hand was lightly resting on my left breast and my nipple was poking up hard and insistent through the thin fabric. I tugged my bikini top down just far enough for my poor eager nipple to pop out into the warm sunlight, and I took it between my thumb and forefinger and squeezed until my mouth contracted into a little "o" of pleasure.
Meanwhile my fingers below were now deep in my thicket, right at the top of my cleft. I arched my wrist, and extended my middle finger, like I was flipping off Gary, and slipped it into my pussy. I bit my lip and let out a low moan. Jesus fucking Christ that felt good. It had been so long since I masturbated. I was so fucking wet. Curling my finger slightly, I traced the hard ridge of my clit and whimpered.
That's when I heard the sound of footsteps on the dock behind me.
I yanked my hand back like I'd been scalded, and hurriedly wiped my wet finger on my bare thigh. Quickly I pulled my top back up. My heart was pounding in my chest.
"Don't mind me, I'm just getting my kayak."
I twisted my neck and looked back over my shoulder. It was Gary's younger brother Mike. He was shirtless and barefoot, wearing nothing but a faded pair of khaki shorts that hung low on his slim hips. He was fiddling with the padlock on the boathouse.
"I've been wanting to do this for days," he said. "But the fucking rain, right?"
He vanished into the boathouse and emerged with a one-man kayak balanced on one shoulder and a paddle in his hand. I'd only ever seen him fully dressed before, so I hadn't realized just how lean and fit he was. Broad shoulders, tanned muscular chest, not an ounce of excess fat anywhere. An intriguing trail of blond hair trailed south from his belly button and vanished into his shorts.
In my current state of mind, I did
not
need to see that.
"Hey," I said, trying to sound casual. "Going boating?"
He looked at the kayak on his shoulder.
"Uh... yeah," he said. I felt like an idiot. We both laughed nervously.
He put the kayak in the water.
"Just around the lake a bit. I had to get out of the house. Get some fresh air. Clear my head."
"Have fun!"
I watched him paddle away across the water. The muscles in his broad back rippled as with each smooth, regular stroke. I glanced down, and both my nipples were rock hard, clearly visible through my bikini. My cheeks turned bright red. Had he noticed? He must have. How could he not have?
Suddenly self-conscious, I slipped my shirt back over my shoulders and pulled it over my chest. Mike was halfway across the lake now, near a spit of woods that jutted out on the right. He looked back toward the dock and waved. I waved back. Then, he paddled out of sight.
My god, what was I fucking doing? Masturbating right out in the open where somebody might see me? Perving on my fiancé's younger brother? My brain was a fizzing mess of conflicting thoughts and urges. Desire and shame and paranoia and frustration, and overriding everything else, anger. Anger at myself for not being more in control. Anger at the boredom and lack of privacy in the cabin. And most of all, anger at fucking Gary for putting me in this weird, fucked-up situation.
I sat there fuming for a long time.
After a while, Mike reappeared around the point. I waved as he approached, and he waved back. He had been gone maybe three quarters of an hour. He pulled up to the dock, and I got up to help him get out of the kayak.
"Thanks," he said, brushing his hands on his shorts.
He was breathing hard, and his torso was covered with a thin sheen of new sweat. I caught a whiff of him as I got close to him. and he smelled amazing. Musky and warm and masculine. Fresh air and clean soap. My pussy gave a little ping, and all the self-composure I'd managed to regain over the last forty-five minutes just evaporated. Fuck, he was hot.
He picked the kayak up out of the water and slung it over his shoulder. I trailed him as he carried it back to the boathouse. The door was still unlocked and he nudged it open with his bare foot. I followed him in.
I'd never been inside the boathouse before. It was hot and dim and humid from the recent rain. The only light aside from the door was from a small, dusty window. On one side there were piles of ropes and floats and life preservers, and on the other were racks for canoes and kayaks. Mike hefted the kayak over his head and placed it on the top rack.
"How was it out on the water?" I said.
"Gorgeous," he said. "The rain's washed everything clean, and the air was amazing."
I was standing near the door and he had to squeeze past to get by. He was so close to me, just inches away. Close enough that I could feel the warmth of his skin. I looked up at him. He had the most brilliant blue eyes, and he was smiling at me. He moved to go around me, and I don't know what came over me.
I put my hand on the front of his shorts.
I could feel the thick bulge of his dick. It felt wonderful.
Mike took a step back, startled.
"Katie, what...?"
I snatched my hand away.
"Oh my God, Mike! I'm so sorry!"
"Are you feeling okay?"
"It was a stupid mistake. Forget I did that."
"It's fine... already forgotten.... but why...?"
"Because I'm an idiot, that's why...."
He looked down at me. I looked away, mortified.
"I know you and Gary have been fighting," he said slowly.
"Is it that obvious?"
"Only if you have eyes."
I laughed bitterly. "Oh, great. Your whole family probably hates me."
"Nah. Everyone knows Gary can be a dick sometimes. They figure he's probably the one who started it."
"He was. But that doesn't excuse... well... you know...."
I gestured vaguely at his crotch. There's no delicate way to say "that doesn't excuse me grabbing your cock."
"You're really pent-up, aren't you?"
