Tourist Season - a May Encounter

Tourist Season Early Spring

Author's Note:

Greetings fellow lover of erotic fiction. This is my Summer Lovin' 2018 Contest entry. Please take time to enjoy all the entries. They're really pretty great.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental. The places in this story are fictitious. I have kept the location vague. Spencerville and Pickerel Falls exist under different names and they are about 300 km apart. The real Bernard Lake is notable as the biggest lake in the world with no islands at all. But really, this could have played out in any small town in Tourist country.

This is a work of fantasy. Time is compressed. It would be best if you could suspend disbelief and just enjoy the budding romance and the scenery. And the fucking. That's my favourite. (I'm a Perv, too).

Finally, in this story you find depictions of various sex acts between consenting adults, both of whom are way over eighteen. Most of the sex is pretty vanilla, but remember: vanilla is a pretty great flavour. Sex includes: heterosexual intercourse, in multiple interesting positions, mutual masturbation (with mutual JOI), cunnilingus, fellatio, slightly dirty talk and a bit of casual nudity. There is an implied invitation to some light bondage. And, be aware, the woman involved in all the sex in this story is described as: thick, substantial, voluptuous, zaftig, ample and chubby. If the thought of a confident woman with a large, shapely ass, full thighs, large breasts and a rounded belly offends you, that's cool. But please stop reading and find a story with characters more to your tastes. Oh yes: this is a mixed relationship. He's Canadian and she's American. There may be fireworks! Well mainly because of the Canada Day / Independence Day shared long weekend.

I'd love to hear what you think, so please leave a comment. And, don't forget to vote! And please only vote once

May

Queen Victoria was born on the twenty-fourth of May 1819. In 1845 the government of the Province of Canada declared the Queen's birthday to be a National holiday. It is a holiday to this day. I always thought it was nice of the old girl to have herself born at the perfect time for a long weekend.

We celebrated it as "Firecracker Day" when I was a kid, and later as "The May Two-Four" in honour of the slang term for a case if beer. It is the unofficial start of summer in Ontario.

Unfortunately, in Pickerel Falls, the small Northern Ontario town I live in, it means the return of the Tourists. You can't get parked at the Grocery, Liquor or Hardware stores. You can't get a seat at a Restaurant or the Pub. The roads are choked with cars and bikes. The Marina and the Lake are choked with every kind if boat imaginable. They whine when the small town doesn't have the amenities that they are used to in the city.

And they ask stupid questions.

"When do the bears appear in town?" I hope never. If there's a bear in town we have other problems.

"Why is the grocery store closed at 8 pm on a Sunday night?" That was a good one. I was about to tell him that the other grocery store, on the highway was open until midnight, when he added "In Toronto we have twenty-four hours grocery stores!"

"Sorry buddy," I began in my best rural accent, "I guess you're kind of pooched until tomorrow."

"Why can't I get decent Somali / Ethiopian / Thai / Vietnamese / whatever food here?"

We actually have a great Thai restaurant. It's called MacMurray's. The restaurant already had a name when it was bought by a former local and his Thai wife. Its small and always full, so I don't tell tourists about it.

In short, as a friend of mine likes to say: "If it's tourist season, why can't I shoot them?"

Well, that's a bit extreme. I sure could do with a whole lot less of them.

Then there was Meg.

I met her for the first time on the Saturday of the Victoria Day weekend. I was filling my truck at the gas station. She was struggling at the next pump.

"You don't normally pump your own gas, do you Miss?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I'm not really a car guy, but I don't think they make a diesel Mustang. You should use the red hose."

"Oh, thanks." There was a pause, "Um, it says 'SELECT GRADE'. What do I want?"

"What do you usually ask for?" I asked, eying the purple ragtop.

"It's new. Midlife crisis brought on by a divorce. I picked it up yesterday."

"I bought a boat after mine. I never thanked the guy she ran off with. Let's have a look."

I hung up my hose. Seventy bucks would do. I stepped around the pumps. So far I had been speaking to her left arm, a bit of the left side of her face and the top of her head. Now I saw her for the first time.

I would best describe her as a substantial woman. I'd put her age at forty-five or six. She was average height, maybe a bit taller than average. Strawberry blonde shoulder-length hair. She was wearing a vee-neck t-shirt that showed a vast expanse of cleavage from a pair of very large breasts. Her belly was round but not excessively fat, her hips were broad, filling out a tight pair of Bermuda shorts nicely. Her thighs were thick, but firm, not flabby. Her calves heavy and firm as well. She wore a pair of flat sandals, exposing some delicate and elaborate ink from ankle to toes on both feet. She had a toe ring on her right foot.

Her face was expressive. Her brown eyes flashed under dark blonde brows. Her nose was slightly pointed and upturned a bit. She had a slight overbite which gave her an open mouthed look of surprise. She smiled warmly, creating laugh lines.

"Hi, I'm Meg O'Leary I'd love some help."

I shook her outstretched hand.

"George Douglas. Let's see what you have here. Oh, nice. I bet this thing goes like a scared rabbit. Use premium and it will run like a NASCAR stock car. Use regular and it will run like an asthmatic tractor. Oh, and next time, park on the other side of the pumps. Your gas cap is on the other side. Let me help with the hose."

I draped the hose across the car and got it into the fuel tube. We chatted while she pumped the gas.

"Are you from around here?" she asked

"Not originally. I came here for a job, expecting to stay three or four years. I love it. That was twenty-five years ago. I hope to retire here eventually. And you?"

"My sister has a cottage on Black Bass Lake. She lives in Toronto with her hubby. He's in Europe for a six month assignment, and she went with him. She insisted I come up here as much as I want to purge myself of all the crap I've been through. I'll be here every three or four weeks until Christmas. I've got lots of vacation time to burn up."

"Where's home? That accent doesn't sound like Toronto."

"West Seneca New York. It's just outside of Buffalo."

"That's what, five or six hours? Plus the border?"

"About that. That's why I figured I'd come up early. Open the place up before the long weekend rush."

I stared at her and blinked once. "This is the long weekend in Ontario. It's Victoria Day. You know, our British heritage? Or Queens? Or women named Vicky? I'm not sure, but I do know I'm not going to work Monday, and I'm opening my cottage as well."

"Oh, I guess that explains the traffic. So next weekend?"

"You'll see lots of your fellow Americans here. It will be busy right through Labour Day and even until Thanksgiving. Oh, uh ours is in October, the same weekend as Columbus Day in the States.

"Aside from that, Canada Day is July 1st. It's a Friday this year, so it will be insane here. Fireworks Friday and Monday, for the Fourth, because we like fireworks and want our guests to feel welcome.

"Civic Holiday on the first weekend in August. Since there's no holiday in the US it's not as busy. But, there's a fishing derby, a street carnival, an outdoor movie after dark. Kind of corny, but it's enjoyable enough."

"Labor Day?" She asked as I put the hose back in the holder.

"Labour day is pretty quiet. There's a parade in Spencerville, about forty minutes west. Their fall fair starts with the parade. Ours is two weeks later. Anyway, your tank is full." I turned and headed for the kiosk to pay for my gas. Meg followed.

"Hi George! Did you get your lottery tickets yet?" called out the clerk as I entered.

"Hiya Becky. I'm good. Say hi to Meg, she's new to the area."

"Hi Meg. Nice car."

"Thanks, I love it!" Meg reached into the left side of her t-shirt and produced a few folded bills, mixed American and Canadian. I'd never actually met a woman who kept money in her bra. I found it inexplicably sexy.

"I have to remember to stash the greenbacks while I'm here. I think it's rude to try and pay with American money when visiting somewhere." She said. I was impressed.

"Just remember to keep your Monopoly money handy." I said smiling. She laughed heartily. A deep, throaty hearty laugh.

I turned to leave saying, "Enjoy your time in Pickerel Falls. I'll see you around."

"How about right now? Would you like a coffee? My treat."

"It would be rude to refuse. There's a Timmy's on the highway, but how about "Bean Here Before"? It's a café overlooking the lake in town? Follow me."

I got in my truck and enjoyed watching her get in the Mustang: all legs, ass and jiggling boobies. It was quite a show. Yeah, men are dogs. drooling, slobbering dogs. at least I didn't howl.

The drive was mercifully short. We parked on the main drag. She wheeled the Mustang effortlessly into a parallel spot behind my truck.

"Extra points for the stick shift in your car" I commented as she eased out of the bucket seat. I took her hand for balance. She held my hand firmly and gave a squeeze before she let go.

"Some cars should be required to have a stick. Mustangs and 'Vettes. Any European sports car and their Japanese copies. Oh, and especially Jeeps.

"Damn! I should have driven my beat up old Wrangler today. She's twenty years old and I can't bear to part with it."

"You have to let me see it! I love old vehicles."

"I'll figure something out. Here's the coffee shop." I steered her through the door with a gentle arm around the waist.

"Hi George. The usual I suppose?"

"Hi Terri. Yes, please"

"Do you know how many kinds of coffee-based drinks I can make? Over a hundred! And all you ever have is a Red-eye. It's not exactly a creative challenge to dump an espresso shot in black coffee you know."

"Perhaps my friend would like a latte of some kind. Meg, this is Terri, the best Barista in town, the owner if the shop, and my sister. This is Meg, in from Buffalo for a few days."

Terrible offered her hand and Meg shook it.

"Pleased to meet you. George rescued me at the Gas Station. So George," she said, turning to me "are the Red-eyes good here?" she turned back to Terri with a broad smile.

"The best!"

"I'll have one as well then." She said with a hint of mischief in her voice.

Terri sighed deeply and grumbled something about "peasants" and filled an espresso basket.

I reflected on my new friend. Stick shift in the ragtop Mustang. Wants to see my Jeep (or maybe that's some kind of euphemism). Black coffee. And the physical side: Thick. Nice big tits. Shapely legs. If she takes her steak rare and drinks Guinness and Oaked Chardonnay, I might fall in love.

We sat at a table by the window that looked out over the crowded Marina and the beach beyond.

Terri brought our coffee. "Seriously, three words. Almond. Carmel. Latte. Think about it." She turned and was gone in a flash of red hair and flowing scarves. Yes, my sister is kind of a hippie.

"Oh, I hope I didn't offend her" said Meg, visibly a bit shaken.

"Naw. Don't worry. But, just to be safe, next time you're here, order a double foam low-fat soy turbo latte."

"Huh?"

"Just string together words and she'll come up with something-" I was interrupted by a booming voice at the door.

"Gawd damned fucking tourists! You can't swing a dead cat without hitting one today!" The voice was attached to a big man in a uniform of a white golf shirt and blue shorts with athletic shoes and a blue and white ball cap. The hat and shirt bore the logo of the Pickerel Falls Marina. The man under the hat was Charlie Davis, the owner of the Marina.

"Geeze Charlie, they're half your business. Mine too. What's the matter now?" said Terri with a watchful eye on the seating area.

"Well, you didn't have one steal your parking spot in front of your office at your business. Goddamned Beemer with Ohio plates. Then he tried to fuck me over on a slip for the season. I told him if he didn't like the price he could try the fucking Spencerville Marina."

"So, you lost your temper, and I lost a potential customer." Said Terri. "So did half the businesses in town. Thanks."

"Spencerville is full. He's out of luck. He'll be back."

"So, when was the last time you rented a slip for full price. Everyone knows you like to dicker. If this customer comes back, try not to be such an asshole. Coffee?"

"Yeah, the usual please."

Terri put four sugars in a cup and filled it with coffee.

"Charlie," I began," you'd think a guy who takes that much sugar in his coffee would be a little sweeter."

"Aw, that guy just got on my last nerve. Hi there!" he said to Meg.

"Charlie, meet Meg, in from the States." I hopped my voice into an exaggerated whisper "She's a tourist. I bet she has a boat, too."

Meg rested her chin on her hands, gave a toothy smile and batted her eyelashes. "Yep. And it needs service. And I'd like to boat in to town instead if driving. Do you have day rates?"

"Uh, yeah. Um, I mean nice to meet you. I'm sure, that is, uh, I think I can-"

"Easy Charlie, you're going to trip on your tongue." I said interrupting him. I turnedto Meg. "Tell you what: if you like Meg, I would gladly accompany you to your cottage, and see if we can get your boat going. We'll bring it to the Marina and I'll show you the free public dock for short term tie ups. Then we can take it to the mechanic for service." I turned back to Charlie. "Is Johnny in today?"

"No, but if you leave it here, I promise you'll be first in line Monday."

"Tourist rates?" Meg said, batting her eyes again.

"Free estimate. Everyone pays the posted shop rate, $50 an hour." He answered.

"Parts at cost, right?" I added.

He grumbled something that sounded like "shut the fuck up George", grabbed his coffee and stormed out.

I turned back to Meg. "What do you say to that?"

"Sounds good," she said, casually dropping her hand on mine, "but don't you have better things to do with your Saturday?"

"Not that I can think of."

We finished our coffee and left the café. We took her Mustang along the twisting country road that lead to the north end of the lake. Meg drove expertly and a little too fast. She got my heart pumping. She finally slowed and turned down a rutted laneway. The cottage at the end sat nestled in a stand of red pines.

"Nice place, Meg."

"I like it. It's private and very quiet. Come inside, we can have something cool to drink before we tackle the boat."

The cottage was neat and tidy, almost Spartan inside. She kicked off her sandals and padded into the kitchen.

"Have a seat on the sofa." I heard the clink of bottles in the kitchen. She appeared with two bottles and sat next to me, displaying her lovely ass as she sat down. She handed me a beer.

"Genesee. A little piece of home. Here's to new friends." We clinked bottles and I took a deep drink on mine. She crossed her shapely legs, and casually touched my leg with her toes. "I hope I'm not one of those annoying tourists. I can be very needy and demanding sometimes."

"Charlie was just blowing off steam. I'm sure you realise that here are a few idiot tourists, but some of the locals are worse. You won't have any trouble getting your boat serviced. Johnny is a great mechanic. "

She rubbed my calf with her foot and added a hand to my thigh.

"What if I need servicing? I think my undercarriage needs to be stripped, inspected, plunged and hosed. Can you help me?"

"I believe you're trying to seduce me!"

"How am I doing? She asked, letting her hand fall to the growing bulge in my pants.

"Pretty well." I said, peeling off my t-shirt.

She leaned back and I reached for her shirt and pulled it off as well. We stood together to remove our shorts. I also dropped my underwear. She stood before me in bra and boy shorts.

We kissed for the first time. Our tongues met, exploring, probing, joining. I left her lips and kissed her ear and down her neck. She moaned quite loudly. We were alone, so, why not. I was reaching behind her to undo her bra when she reached in front, and undid a clasp. Her tits stayed in the bra cups as she released them. She looked up at me, smiled and said,

"Go for it."

I slipped my hands inside the cups and released her tits. I let them drop and watched them bounce and jiggle. Very satisfying for a tit lover like me. Her nipples were large and beautiful. The shape was complex. They stood like a small peak on a round hill, pointing up. They stood high surrounded by large areolae. The breasts themselves were heavy and round, sagging slightly, but sitting surprisingly high on her chest. There were no tan lines on them; she sunbathed topless. I briefly wondered if it was outside or at a salon. Her skin was smooth and uniform. A few stretch marks, barely visible on the tanned skin of her breasts testified to their weight. Her areolae were also elongated slightly, as if gravity wanted revenge for being unable to drag her tits down. I fell to my knees and took her left nipple in my mouth. She took in a sharp breath and moaned, pushing my head, trying to get me closer. I sucked on her nipple. She took the right one between her fingers, pinching and pulling it.

"Oh fuck yes. I love having my tits worked over. I'm getting so wet. I bet my pussy is dripping inside my panties." I squeezed the breast I was nibbling on. With the other hand I hooked the waistband of her panties. She took the hint and helped with the other side, peeling them over her full, round ass and hips and letting them slip down her thighs. They hit the floor with a soft plop. Our fingers met at her sparsely furred pussy. She showed me her clit with her finger. It wouldn't be hard to find again; it was large and prominent. I dipped a finger into her depths. She was right; her pussy was drenched. She let out a satisfied sigh. I added a second finger and started a slow pump.

"Yessss! Touch me inside with your fingers. Fee how wet I am? Think of your cock deep in me soaking in my juices. Think of adding your spunk and making a hot fucking cocktail." She rubbed her clit faster. I increased the pace. I let go of her nipple and bent lower so I was eye to eye with her pussy. Her dark lips were framed by dark hair that was well sculpted. No tan lines there either. She pinched her clit, displaying it for me. I applied my tongue to it wrestling with her fingers for possession of it. She let it go, and started to squeeze and caress her tits as I ate and finger fucked her.

I took one if her pussy lips between my teeth and gently nibbled at the pebbled surface. I sucked her lip as I drove my fingers into her soaking wet depths. I curled my fingers slightly and pumped as I moved my tongue back to her clit.

Her hips began to shake. She pushed my head hard into her quim. He gave a loud squeal, shook more forcefully and let out a long, shuddering breath.

"Oh, my GAWD! That was fucking amazing. I don't want you to stop, but I need you to stand up," she said, breathlessly, "I need to return the favor and see to your cock!"

I reluctantly removed my fingers and tongue from her sweet, soaked pussy. I stood, shakily, my cock harder than it had been in years. She dropped to her knees, tits bouncing as she did.

"Mmm, it been so long since I had a real cock." She cupped my balls with one hand and gripped the base of my cock with the other. She tentatively licked the head once. Then twice. She spent a few seconds either admiring what she just did, or deciding what to do next. Either way, she took my cock full in her mouth, lips under the head, tongue swirling, both of us moaning softly. She looked up at me, large brown eyes under heavy lids. She smiled with her eyes. In a single, swift movement she plunged my cock deep into her mouth. She slowly worked it. Her tongue slipped out near the end of a stroke and tickled my balls. When she got a reaction, she did it again, more forcefully.