The Sily Sy

A Silky Adventure

George has all kinds of connections. I mean friends, not like USB ports. His family has lived in Alabama forever, and he has his grand-dads business, so lots of people know him. Not so many realize that his two adopted daughters Jessica (blond/blue) and I, Silky (red/green) sleep in his bed. There are a few people that have shared that bed although we weren't actually in that bed, we were in a motel, but we had sex is what I mean. Anyway, most people in Alabama are fairly puritanical, or at least hypocritical, and they would all make it obloquy if they knew.

I lived with my parents most of my life, but my mother, Soft, was a druggie, and she finally came apart when my granny Splendid died. I moved in with George because Jessica wanted me, and he did too, and nobody at home cared. While I was still at home, I learned to ride. Lots of girls do, we all have that Aristotle Complex, supposedly a melding of our budding sexuality and the socially appropriate riding of a big strong animal with a frisson between our legs, and with leather to boot. And boots. And looking at their big penises.... Anyway, focus.

So George knows how to ride, and I do, but Jessica had a poor childhood and though she rode mules as a kid, she never knew dressage. So George got us lessons, which she went all ebullient over. After a few months, we all went riding together, just a trio for the day. After about five miles, we came to a jump, and Jess got freaked because she hadn't learned to do that. George told her to just stand in the saddle, hold tight to the mane, and the horse would do the rest. Then he jumped, and I watched her fly over with her aurous tresses gliding behind her. She was in love! Around three pm we came to a small lake, about an acre all isolated, with a twenty foot hill above it.

"Ya'll want a break?" George asked

"My pussy is kinda sore." Jess replied in the quiet Southern Lady style she has.

"The horses could use a rest as well, I think," I added to the conversation.

"This is a perfect place," said George."Take off their saddles."

So we did.

"Now take of your clothes as well, and we'll all go swim in the lake."

Not being particularly shy in front of each other or George, we were soon dressed for the Garden of Eden. George assisted each of us in mounting the horses bare backed. I have to say, the first time I ever felt warm horse flesh and sweat on my kootch it was... marvelous.

We turned the horses, and sitting as wild Indians, we rode them over the cliff. Those few seconds in the air were jocund hours; the evanescent apogee froze in my mind, as we rode the naked horses naked through the naked sky and finally in a heart-stopping free fall rode them into the water. Whoosh!

"Jesus, this water is cold!" said Jess.

"Yeah, my nipples are nubbins," I added.

"Swim a bit, you'll warm up," laughed George as he trod water smiling. "Was that glorious or what?"

"It was glorious!" said Jess, as she backstroked away, her boobs forming twin wakes behind her.

George floated on his back, bringing the ineluctable result of his cock becoming a ship's mast, but laid down on deck for the present.

I of course did a surface dive and came up like Jaws underneath Jessie, flashing upwards to duck her and escape. In water I am faster than she is.

Spluttering, she said, "Hey Silky, I learned a new word in English Lit. It applies to you! It's 'Furbelow,' it means a 'showy trimming.' That's what you've got -- get it? --fur be low."

Jess and I have distinct differences. She is obsessive about keeping her little labia bald, while I prefer the natural beauty of France in my pants. Or in this case, not in my pants. I don't shave my sanguine pubes. But it's not a furbelow; it's just what I like.

"George likes it just fine, don't you?" as I swam to his side.

"I love both of you just as you are." And he grabbed me in a foolish attempt to duck me.

Like a minnow outrunning a perch, I swirled to the side, but unlike a minnow, I fought back. In an instant I had his dick in my little hand, and the entire setting changed.

He splashed over to my breast, and cupped me while he caught my mouth. The water was too deep to stand, but we could manage to kiss and fondle with our upper bodies and use our legs to kick. One of the horses, a gray mare, swam by us, ignoring our sexual play much as humans do horses.

"Will you two cut that out!" Jess yelled. "I can't swim well enough to do that in the water." Since she knew she would be included, it was a fair complaint. Still, I had never had sex in the water, well, not in a lake. Well, not deeper than my head, so I continued to stroke his rising tumescence even though we stopped the kissing. I noticed a surreptitious hand tunneling between my legs, and rightly assumed he was planning to impale me with his fingers. It's not so easy to tred water while being finger-fucked, so I had to forlornly sunder from his hand and swim for shore.

The bottom was firm, as is mine, and as soon as we reached a depth where George could stand, he pulled me back into his embrace, and renewed his kisses. This time I could wrap my legs around his trunk, and maintain that delicious contact. I eagerly thrust my tongue against his, forcing him to retreat, and then he overpowered me and slid into my mouth.

I felt the heat of his body, so clearly discrete from the cold of the water, and I was aware of the nudging of his solidness as it attempted its own invasion. My lower lips were roiling for the onslaught, and he easily entrenched himself in my redoubt.

Now wavelets sloshed between us as I began the dance. I pulled myself around him, caught him entirely, and strove to keep him for myself. I could not keep myself from backing off for a new advance, I really couldn't help it, I just had to go back again and again. The water made it harder, no I made him harder, the water impeded my movement, so that no matter how indomitable my efforts, we coupled with dreamy sluggishness.

Not so slowly as to fail in our intent, however, as I felt his water mix with mine in a space disconnected from the lake around us, and then I would have drowned if he had not held me, as I became incoherent with delight and sang my joys aloud, a hymn of disjointedness.

Jess chose to take a tumble in the grass, and I assisted in renewing George's vigor and then lay back and stroked her hip as she moved languidly against him, and then a little faster, and then at a rate of speed where her breasts bounced in counter-point to her pelvis as she rode him much the way she rode the horses, posting with each sway, until she became loquacious with her Sacerdotal caterwauling.

"Gesú bambino, Joseph and Mary, vaffanculo di Gesú." Jessica cums with profanity.

One of the averred reasons for our ride was to determine where we would spend the night of August the 12th, the annual showing of the Perseids meteor shower. This lake side was ideal; an open sky, a smooth horizon, and from the hill we espied a gravel road, a route we could use in a car to bring a telescope.

We would camp out under the astral plane, lie back on blankets and observe the fire in the sky. George has a Celestron eight inch Schmidt-Cassegian scope, just small enough to bring to a spot like this. If we were going to spend the time star gazing we might as well use the tools, right?

On the appointed night the weather was great. We located the road, followed it on the GPS, and got back to our lake. The moon didn't set until ten pm, so we had hours to build a fire, cook the hotdogs, pile up blankets, and set up the scope. From the crest we had a sweep of many miles, and there were buildings here and there twinkling as if grounded stars themselves. One thing we three enjoy that would surely be abjured if known was our delight at peeping. With a scope such as this people miles away could be observed as if beside us. So we took turns looking into windows and detailing to our partners what we saw.

Often it was nothing. Someone eating a meal, or washing up after. Sometimes, however, like tonight, we got lucky. Jess started it.

"I see a man undressing a young woman!" We both went on alert. "He's taking off her bra, now he's nuzzling her tits. Oh, he's sucking her nipple, she's holding his head!"

It has been my experience, but I may be wrong; for us, this is a solitary shared experience. Someone tolling out the activity seen beyond our eyes calls for self-fulfillment, it does not work so well as a shared touching. So each of us caressed ourselves as we saw fit, listening to the reconstruction of the raconteur.

"Now he's standing in front of her, she's unzipping his pants.... She's taking him in her mouth. I can almost see her face... there! Why, it's Jackie Hoffman, she's in my history class!"

I rubbed my slit with my middle finger, eyes closed, seeing the events in my head. I was liquid with lust, lubricating myself for the introduction of my frenzied digits.

"Oh, man, she's really bobbing his knob! I'm proud of her. She knows how to give head!" George lay a few feet away, parallel in his play. I could hear the slapping of his hand against his balls, but this was for each of us alone.

I put my middle two fingers inside my opening, and fingered myself rapidly as Jess continued to drive us on. I was naked on the blanket, and I twisted my nipple with my other hand as I drove in and out of my slurping pussy. The base of my fingers bounced on my swollen clit, and every stroke brought me closer to my orgasm.

"He's grabbed her head, he's cumming! Boy, he's pumping a big load, she's got jism running down her chin, and she can't swallow it all."

I heard George go "Uhhgggnh" and knew he was spewing juice as well as the man in the scope. Then I went over my own edge, and lost several infinities on my own planet O.

Jess was impatient as always, and shook my shoulder. "Come on, my turn, you watch now."

So I slowly crawled over to the scope, slowly enough to punish Jess for hurrying me, and looked into the eyepiece.

"He's got his face between her legs, he's licking her cunt," I said as my color commentary began. "She's bucking like a boated fish; he really must have his tongue in deep. Now she's kicking his back, I think she's cumming, yeah, she's gone!"

Jess had one finger in her vagina and one in her ass, and was sawing from one to the other.

"Now he must be hard again. He's got her in a doggy position, he's crawling up behind her, one leg on the bed, now both, his hand is between them, and she's down on a knee-chest, reaching back to guide him, he's up, he's in, he's fucking her brains out!"

Jess began softly swearing, and then took the names of seven Gods, thirteen Saints, and twelve miscellaneous religious figures in vain. She came good.

The man looked up and I could see his face.

"Guess what, guys? Dean Cuthbert is fucking Jackie Hoffman. Wonder what his wife would think of that?"