The Lae

NINE

The Lake

"You drive," I call, tossing you the keys as we walk down the sidewalk to the Audi.

You catch them and, with a happy little skip, head around the hood. That skip bounced your tits beneath your thin tan t-shirt. That's another reason I like that tight, short shirt.

I lift the hatchback and lay the bags and rods onto the deck and, as I get into the passenger seat, drop the day-pack into the back seat. You watch as you sit, buckled, right hand on the key in ignition, left hand on the wheel. As soon as you see me buckle up, you turn the key and look over your shoulder to back up.

I am disappointed that the car won't start - won't even turn over. You shift into reverse and roll down the driveway.

OK, yes, I'm an idiot.

I'm still not used to this hybrid silent electric motor.

You negotiate the lanes and streets skillfully.

I rest my hand on your naked thigh, pleased by the feel of your muscles moving under your skin and you gas and brake. As you hit the highway, I slide my hand slowly up your thigh until the blade of my hand pushes the hem of your short-short cut-offs against your pussy.

We ride like that for the ninety minute drive to the exit for the lake.

Halfway there, I feel your moisture seeping from under the tight denim and you occasionally press your hips forward and moan.

You look at me and I smile. And I press my hand more firmly against you.

As we roll up the exit ramp I twist my hand and push the crotch of your short-shorts to the side and line my fingers along your pussy lips. The jostling of the car over the vaguely maintained county roads serves to work you into a lather - and work the first knuckles of my fingers between your lips.

You signal a turn when we reach the marked entrance to the lake.

"No. Go on."

You look at me, but do not ask your question. You learned long ago that when I tell you to do something, I mean it. And that it always leads somewhere unexpected. And delightful.

You flip off the blinker and drive another half mile.

"OK. Turn here."

You turn onto a barely discernible, unpaved road, overgrown with four-foot high grass, the road only defined by the strip of grass between tall, old trees with little undergrowth beyond the occasional tangle of berry patch.

"Stop."

You do.

"Get out."

You do.

"Take off your clothes."

As you undress, I get out and walk around the car to stand beside you, watching you lose your clothes.

You stand there in your glorious nudity and hand me your clothes. You bend over straight-legged for my benefit and untie your sneakers. You rest one hand on the fender for balance and raise you feet one at a time to shed them and hand them to me.

You pop up onto the hood to peel off your ankle socks.

You hand them to me and I press against the car between your thighs, trapping you there.

"Open."

You open your mouth and I stuff your socks in.

I kneel down and admire your pussy, lips glistening with your dew.

I take in a deep breath, inhaling your scent.

My tongue finds curtains and folds to explore again, repeatedly.

You begin to moan through your socks.

I move lower so that my nose pesters your clit and I swirl my tongue around your asshole, my teeth scraping your pussy lips.

I feel you shivering on the verge of coming and I pull back, straighten up and slap your tit.

I pull you off the hood and smile at your panting grin.

"There's a cabin - one-room log cabin - about a quarter mile up this way. Right on the lake."

I swing into the driver's seat and shut the door.

"See ya on the dock," as I pull away, leaving you naked, to walk through the woods alone.

I carry our bags into the cabin and lay them on top of dresser or beside the closet as appropriate.

I untube the two fly rods and stroke my fingers along the smooth rod. There are no strippers, no guides along it's length and the oversized reel holds about ten feet of 1/8" paracord.

I carry it and the daypack down to the dock decked with fairly new, dull-gold raw larch planking which is supported on ancient grey wood pilings, two of which stick up halfway down the dock and two more frame the end.

I lean the rods against one of the first two and set the day pack down beside it. I kneel to unzip it and rummage through it, checking on contents and arrangements, adjusting a bit for ease of retrieval.

Squatting on my heels, I pull a few feet of paracord out of one of the reels, slice through the sheath about eight inches from the end and pull it off, freeing the seven core strands to be teased apart. I unreel enough to hitch it to the end of the rod, with about two feet hanging free.

As I lean the rod against the piling, I notice your sweaty beauty clearing the tree line.

I stand and admire your overwhelming beauty picking your way tender-footed down the well-tended slope to the lake.

I smile broadly at the sight. And in welcome.

You glance nervously around, for other people I suppose.

As you walk along the dock towards me I notice you hold your socks in your hand.

OK.

That's a good way to begin.

"Hand me the socks." A stern order.

Something clicks, I see it in your eyes, and, embarrassed, you hand me the two soaking cotton sacks.

"I'm sorry."

I glare at you (As if you ever upset me enough to actually deserve that glare, still, it has its uses.).

"I just took them out when I saw you. Really. I just couldn't breathe. I..."

"Sit."

You do.

I step to you and press the socks against your lips; You open and take them in.

"Show me your feet."

It takes you a while to sort it out, but you sit on your ass, your arms wrapped around your knees. You roll onto your back and lift your legs, displaying your soles, reddened and roughened by your stroll along the overgrown road.

I notice your cunt glistens between your thighs.

When I wrap my arms around you, I grip you to me and tickle your ribs.

You writhe, trapped in my arms. As soon as I release you, you immediately collapse in giggles and roll onto your side, completely disobeying me.

I pull your socks from your mouth - they had muffled your tinkling laughter.

I jump on top of you and tickle your ribs, belly and feet. And the back of your knees, driving your bananas.

We roll around on the dock, you naked and me in my shorts and shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

"Yaaehhh!"

SPLASH

We two foolishly roll off the dock and into the waist-deep cold water of the lake.

You jump up, knocking me over.

You shove your butt against my head and shove me down almost to the muddy bottom.

I get my footing and stand up fast, tossing you about three feet into the deeper water.

I wade into the splash and grab your waist so I can toss you deeper.

You bob up gasping, snorting, and laughing. And quickly start digging deep, trying to ram me. I dodge to the side and push you down as you pass.

Your hand brushes against my cock and you hook your arm around my waist and circle around me.

Your face bumps my cock and you leap out of the water, knock against my chin and drop down again.

You grab my pants and rip them down to my knees, hobbling my legs.

You grab my cock with your mouth, suck a few times and, hands on my hips, push your head above water - you look up at me, water washing over your face - and dive back to suck me under water.

It feels so good to have your warm mouth contrast with the cold water of the lake.

Your talents are certainly not wasted or impaired by being under water.

I'm close to coming and I don't want to shoot into the water, so I rest my hands on your shoulders and hold you down. You begin to thrash and struggle, but do not cease, pause, nor even let up on your mouth's magical endeavor.

I do begin to worry I might be drowing you, so I release you to pop up out of the water.

You are laughing as you pound my chest, yelling, "You bastard, you fucking bastard -- DAMN that was great!"

I liked it, too.

I gather you in and, hugging you tight I lift you up and you co-operate to get me sheathed in you.

It is a little tight as the lake water washed away your juices - still, you're not exactly dry and you are enthusiastic and dedicated.

Once seated you wrap your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist. You pull yourself to me, crushing your tits against my chest and your lips against mine in a ferocious kiss.

I am standing on the muddy bottom, my hands under your ass. Your cunt clutches and tugs at my cock and I am content to just stand, holding you, embedded deep inside you.

You stop working on my cock and lay back onto the water, your legs tightly clasping my hips, holding me inside you.

Your hair floats on the water in a golden halo, rippling with the waves, sunlight glinting off your silken tresses.

Laid back as you are, your torso is mostly submerged just below the surface, your tits proud islands thrusting skyward, topped by stiff nipples sporting their gold loops, their scintillating jewels flashing.

I start thrusting up into you; Your head lays back, exposing your wet throat arched up to the air.

I love that.

My actions throw me a little off balance and I take a step forward, which drives me into you deeper.

I start walking towards the shore, your hair veeing to the sides like a boat wake, framing my hips.

As I walk you lay back, your arms out stretched.

With each step forward, you rock on my cock and your only movement is inside the sleeve of your pussy.

I walk us towards the shore and while I'm still knee deep in the water, I throw you out and down onto the packed mud that serves as a beach in this part of the lake.

I hop onto you, my chest forces your legs apart and presses your butt down right at the edge of the water, waves lapping along your thighs.

I snake down and completely cover your pussy with my mouth. I breathe in through my nose and exhale into your cunt.

I flatten my tongue against your hairless mound and nuzzle into you.

Your juices, washed away when we were in the lake, flow again, seeping out around my tongue. I press hard, forcing your cuntlips apart to fit the width of my tongue.

You moan-growl and lay your hands on my head, holding me to you.

I continue to move my tongue, working its thickness into your slit. I feel your clit, sharp against me lip. I bite down on it and worry it a bit. You jam me down harder.

My wet beard scrubs your inner thighs and the nerve-filled strip between cunt and asshole.

The waves roll up my back and, receding, cascade down, washing your thighs.

You begin thrusting up to meet me; I move my hands to your hips and press you down against the mud, holding you firmly, you unable to accommodate my assault.

You give up, releasing your pressure on my head, but leaving your hands to ride along with my actions. You relax totally into the mud and surrender to me totally.

That spurs me on. Also, the wave action on my ass activates my pelvis and soon I'm humping the soaked mud beneath me. A most curious sensation.

You come thrashing, your heels pounding into my back, your hands abandoning my head for your tits. You dig into your mounds and flatten them against your chest as you scream out your ecstasy.

They may have heard that across the lake.

Neither of us care.

I crawl up, dragging my stiff and heavy cock along the inside of your thigh until I come to the place where the waves break against the vee of your groin. They splash up, wetting your naked mound and washing the mud off my cock.

The narrowing space between your thighs serves to guide me to you, into you, with no aiming or need to assist.

You are wide open, hot, wet and hungry and I slide in nearly all the way in one smooth, slow stroke. You moan and your legs reach up to wrap around me, your heels digging into my asscheeks.

I pump out just a little and ram home, pounding your ass against the mud.

You curl up, devouring me and locking me deep inside your tender cavern.

Because you have lifted your butt off the mud, when I slam into you, you are driven back down to impact with each down-thrust I deliver, smacking the mud loudly.

You also grunt with each impact, but cling to my pelvis and continue to lift up to follow me, refusing my withdrawal.

Which, of course, is fine with me, I have no intention of withdrawing any time soon.

By lifting, you ensure that your ass is being spanked onto the mud while I ram into you steadily, vigorously and with increasing speed.

Your breath is knocked out every time your ass hits the mud and I am excited by the open throated exhalation timed to my down thrust into your clamoring pussy.

I stiffen, my toes digging into the submerged floor of the shore and drive forward, you curl, lifting your pelvis, and mine, to hover over your shoulders. Your knees drop beside your head and my cock head scours the front of your vagina as my balls roll in the crack of your ass.

I shoot into you; You gasp in welcome.

You remain curled up, you ass high and your shoulders driven into the dense mud of the shoreline. I have collaped, lying with my full weight held in the vee of your thighs, bent at the waist over your panting nudity.

We lie here, my cock still in your clinging cunt as the lake laps at our feet and calves.

You relax and we roll to the side and lie here, quietly stroking each other, exhausted.

My deflated rod slips out of your pulsing pussy.

I feel your hand cradle my cock on my abs and turn to look at you. Your sparkle and twinkle and you smile contentedly and sigh.

I nod in agreement.

As the sun lowers so does the temperature, and the flying biters come out so we head into the cabin.

I tell you to go on, I have to pick up the stuff I left on the dock.

I lace my arm through the bands of the day pack and heft it up onto my right shoulder. I pick up the fly rod and walk to the cabin stroking the smooth stripper-free aluminum tube of my 10' Orbis rod.

This is a new purchase. A surprise special for you.

I step through the screen door and into the cool dimness of the cabin.

You have not lit any lantern or candle, so the only light is filtering in through the old wavy cylinder-blown glass in the five small windows in the thick log walls.

I stand in the door, backlit and wait while my eyes adjust.

You are sitting at the table, right hand fiddling with the ring through your left nipple and holding a heavy 66-diner shake glass full of a orangey-blond fluid.

Your eyes fix one the rod, glance to my eyes, then back at the rod. I nod and lean the rod against the bare-branch framed couch.

I go over to the half-fridge and open it to find - nothing. Except for an empty catsup bottle and three Kiwi Strawberry Arizona Teas.

I toss the catsup bottle into the 55 gallon drum for trash, pull a tea and move behind you, pressing my cock against the back of your head. You lean your head back and rub against me, my wet cock begins to thicken.

I gather a handful of your pale honey tresses and hold my cock, your shaking head pulls the hair between my hand and cock. Silk dragging across my heavy prick.

You sip from your glass, my tea warms in the can on the table unopened.

As my masturbation gets more vigorous, I'm pulling your hair and jerking your head around. You moan in delight, delighting me.

My heavy, thick cock becomes engorged and I start gasping in erotic pleasure. I hold my fist at the base of my cock and a small burst of come dampens the top of your head. I rub it in like it was conditioner.

My fingers massaging your scalp bring you relaxation and I move down to your shoulders and my talented digits ease your muscles - not that they were that tight, but I just like touching you with this kind of force.

I step to the side and you take my discharged cock into your mouth and roll it against the roof of your mouth as I soften, your tongue urges a few more drops from me.

I take your hand and lead you to the couch.

You lie down along the couch and grip the barked red-wood arm. You move down so that your arms are stretched. You lay your left leg along the top of the back of the couch, your right foot flat on the floor.

Invitation accepted.

I kneel at your foot, lay my torso along your thigh and scrub my chin into your cunt, my beard pressing between your lips - and getting soaked immediately.

I nod my head, my bony chin spreading your lips, making a broader, wetter, more tender target for my beard.

You moan and lift your hips. I slip my mouth down to lay beside your slit and breathe in your wonderful clean scent.

I have never understood those who complain about the smell and taste of women's sex, it tops my list of scents and flavors.

After this long day, I am exhausted.

I roll off of your leg and lay on my back on the floor beside the couch.

You lazily trail your hand along my chest and abs. Soothing.

I fade to sleep between the couch and the coffee table, laying on the huge oval Amish rug that covers half the floor of the one room cabin.

Some time in the night I wake enough to pull the blanket of your hair to cover my upper body and snug it under my neck.

Peaceful comfort.

"Yeehaoue"

I bump into the table, startling me awake. I'd rolled over and my upper arm banged against a leg of the heavy barked redwood coffee table.

It takes me a second to figure out where I am. I haven't been to the cabin since coming with my wife.

I am greeted with the perfume of wood smoke and coffee.

The aroma of Heaven.

"Now, you're awake."

You have twisted around to look over your shoulder, you smile is a second dawn.

From my position on the floor I have a perfect angle to appraise your glorious form. Your slender legs are on display and your twist causes your taut ass to jut, both cheeks visible. The twist also narrows your waist and your tits are in profile.

Damn, girl, I like the way your piercings hold your nipples out, always look excited, but, from this angle, I can see that this morning they are standing out on their own, the jewels hanging free.

The pale dawn filters through the window on the East side, away from the lake. The upper parts of your curves are light pale straw-yellow and the lower parts are lit dull red from the opposite direction, the flickering fire filtered through the grill of the stove.

You've been up a while to get the stove up and the coffee on.

You're whipping eggs in the heavy yellow Melmac bowl your mother brought out here when we first set up in this cabin.

I walk outside for a long pee. Looking up to scan the outside of the cabin and notice a loose shake - gonna have to get on the roof later.

I look down and see you watching my urinate into the leaf litter up the slight slope to the forest.

I of course am standing so that I'm pissing down hill. Towards the house. I follow the never-piss-up practice; Never piss up wind, up stream, up hill.

You watch while I finish and shake a few final drops.

That brings you a smile.

And THAT brings me a smile.

I sit across the table and watch you eat, marveling at the play of muscles under your skin as you chew. The structure of your face is so solid, the ripples playing over bone is so alive.

"Dad. Dad? Are you OK?"

"Wha- Oh, yes, fine."

"You look kinda... spaced. You here?"

"Very much."

"You were staring at me... and kinda zoned out."

"Yeah. Just appreciating your beauty. You are alive."

You laugh, "Yeah. Well, duh."

I lay the couch seat cushions on the coffee table and you lie down on your stomach, you comb your fingers through your hair and drape it off the end of the table.

You rest your head on your hands, one atop the other.

I dribble some oil down your spine and the scent is new to you.

"What is that, Dad?"

"An oil I ordered."

You lift your head and turn to look for the bottle. You pick it up and rise onto your opposite elbow to read it.