Vermont summer, 2002
Sandra was an upper middle class Londoner. Around her family and friends, she was prim and proper. However, while on her hands and knees, with her ass high, legs spread, and my dick pounding deep into her married cunt, she sounded more like a five dollar whore.
"Oh fuck . . . oh fuck . . . more . . . yes . . . OOOHHHHH fuuuuuuuuuck! I'm cummmmming agggggain."
I was kneeling behind her with my hands clawing into her slim, mature hips. Her round ass shook every time I bottomed out in her tight, wet, pussy. One hand rubbed her throbbing pink clit, while her other massaged my swinging balls. Sandra's head and shoulders were buried against the mattress. Her blonde/gray shoulder length hair covered her head like a pup tent.
"Me too, Sandra. I'm getting close. Where do you want it?"
"YYYYeeessss," she gasped. "My mouth . . . my mouth . . . cum in my moooouuuuttthhhh."
She groaned as I pulled from her twat and she turned around. As her open, red lip-stick covered mouth approached the head of my cock, I let go of my rod a bit too early. The first shot exploded from my dick and sprayed across her cute nose and flushed cheek.
Sandra tried to pull away, but I already had a hand wrapped in her hair. I pulled her to my cock head and wedged it between her full lips. She swallowed the next jet of warm seed and seemed to give up control as I fucked her hungry mouth. Spit, drool and cum, streamed from the corners of her mouth and dripped over her breasts, as I pistoned in and out.
After swallowing most of my cum, she lay back in the bed. I admired that she was confident enough in herself and her sexuality, to leave the splotch of cum on her face.
Her grayish-blonde hair was a mess, cum caked her cheek and her small nipples were red and swollen. The mature Brit's slim legs were spread; the light colored landing strip was wet and matted. Her pussy lips were red, wet and open. Sperm from my first load, trickled out, mixed with her pussy juice.
Sandra reached for my wet, semi-hard dick and stroked it. With a gleam in her slutty eyes, she said, "I'll give you a bit, to recharge. Then I want your third load up my ass."
Sandra was one of my most memorable partners and almost as slutty as her married daughter, Carol.
I'm Christopher. I'm an average professional working guy and lucked into a great career. I buy lumber on the commodities market, for a small group of customers. The best part about my job is I can do it anywhere; as long as I have internet access and a cell phone I can make a living.
For parts of every year, I choose Vermont.
If you ever want to know what heaven will look like, take a ride up route 100, north of Ludlow, Vermont. My cottage is on one of the many lakes that dot the scenic state highway. The Green Mountains surround the small lake. All you can see is the lake, trees and sky.
Ludlow has earned the reputation as a four season town. The town has skiing in the winter and golf, biking and hiking the rest of the year. Although it's a half hour drive from the nearest interstate, the town is packed with a wide variety of restaurants, bars and entertainment. I'd never call it home, but I do enjoy it for a few months at a time.
There are two houses in Phantom Cove, a small portion of a much bigger lake. My home is one hundred feet from Paul Mason's. Paul is an eccentric artist. He's struggled for most of his career and as his "art" is crap, it's not surprising. What is surprising . . . no shocking, is that a New York City gallery agreed to show his work.
He told me he had rented an apartment in Soho for the summer. In turn, he was renting out his lake front home.
The first family arrived at Paul's home in mid-June. They were from London. Michael, the husband, explained to me over a glass of local Merlot that they were on a month long eastern USA vacation. They had arrived a week earlier and spent the week on Cape Cod. The second week is in Vermont. They next traveled to Washington, DC and end their vacation in Orlando.
It was his understanding that Paul's home would be rented by a series of English families. Michael was right. Over the next month a new family arrived every Sunday. Mom, Dad and two point three kids.
One Monday morning in the middle of July, I woke to my 5am alarm. I'm a creature of habit. I dressed in workout clothes and jogged three miles into town. Ludlow has a small gym in an old mill. I lifted weights and stretched for sixty minutes and practiced karate katas for another thirty and then I jogged home.
At home, I grabbed a cup of coffee, powered up my computer and reviewed the over-night financial markets, the news and my customer's timber needs. I checked on current stockpiles and finally placed my buy and sell orders.
Shortly before the 10am market open, I filled a carafe with coffee, took my mug and computer and headed to my dock. On the way, I grabbed an extension cord and let it unwind while I walked.
As the market opened, I was sitting in the middle of heaven. I was on a reclining beach chair, surrounded by water and mountains, while sipping a strong cup of java. My computer was on my lap and I intently studied every trade for the first hour.
Everything was normal.
At 11am, I stood out of the chair, kicked off my sandals and pulled my tee shirt over my head. I pulled an emergency inflatable life vest over my head and secured it to my waist; I dove into the lake and started an easy swim to Lookout Point, a half mile away.
The swim is the highlight of my day and takes fifty minutes round trip, to complete.
Back at the dock, I reached for the bottle of Old Spice body and hair gel. I squeezed out a large dollop and washed myself. After washing my entire body, I dove into the lake to rinse off.
Drying off on the dock a few moments later, I heard a giggle. In a very British accent, I heard, "The realtor was right, you never know what kind of wild life you'll see."
I looked over to Paul's lake front lawn and saw four people sitting on lawn chairs at the waters edge.
I threw on my tee shirt and apologized as I walked toward them, "I'm so sorry. I'm sure I ruined the beautiful morning, by making you watch me bathe"
"Nonsense," said an upper crust older man. "Your swim looked very enjoyable."
"It was. Thank you. My name is Christopher and I'm your neighbor for the week. Welcome."
The older man made the introductions. Michael was 60ish, stick thin, except for a belly and ghost white skin. I chuckled at the short shorts, black socks and black sneakers.
His wife, ten years his junior was Sandra. She had grayish-blonde hair, sparkling green eyes and a gleaming smile. Her breasts were high and round, and she was wearing a white v-neck top that sported a nice amount of cleavage. A tan skirt showcased a pair of athletic legs, tucked up under her ass.
Sitting next to Sandra was her daughter Carol. Carol was a spitting image of her Mom and in her mid-30's. She was wearing a black one-piece swimsuit and gym shorts. A set of thick erect nipples pressed outward from the tight black top. Like her Mom, Carol's legs are slim and athletic. Her finger and toenails were a sexy shade of deep red.
As similar in appearance as mother and daughter, Carol's husband, Hal looked just like his father-in-law, complete with the short shorts, dark shoes and socks.
I chatted with the two couples for a few minutes. They described their itinerary for the week. I made some helpful suggestions and then I wandered back to my computer and work.
That night, I headed to Archie's, a local steak joint, located at the base of the Okemo Ski Area access road. The food is great, selection of wine is varied and at times, the bar is crowded with out-of-town divorcees.
Unfortunately, that night the bar was nearly empty. I ate and chatted with a few locals, and I drove home around nine.
If my daily swim is the highlight of my day, my evening hot tub soak is the highlight of my night. I keep the water very hot. Unlike most people, I never turn on the water jets. I love the peace and quiet. Instead, I sit in the silence, soak and sip wine.
Voices around the lake travel for great distances. I heard the door of my neighbor's home shut and voices grew a bit louder as they walked to the lake. I was curious and moved to the opposite side of the tub to watch.
I followed the progress of two people. I wasn't sure, but from the size of the woman's breasts, I thought it was the daughter Carol.
I watched as they two people embraced. They kissed for a few minutes and then Hal half begged, "Please Carol?"
She responded, "God, yes! I love being on vacation. Remember, you promised to finish inside me."
Carol dropped to her knees and pulled down Hal's pants. Hal rested his butt against the edge of the picnic table. I smiled to myself and enjoyed the voyeuristic view as the shadowy figures joined together, mouth to cock.
