It’s fitting that my journey has taken me back here to this place. In many ways, the lake has been the place where I have learned so much about myself. But that’s a story for another day. Today, the story is sitting right behind me on my jetski as we race down the water’s smooth surface. The story is wearing a tiny little pink bikini and a ski vest and has her arms wrapped around my waist while holding onto the buckles in the front of my ski vest. I’ve always loved the feeling of having the wind in my face when I’m screaming down the waterway, but today the wind is the second best feeling I am experiencing. The best feeling is her arms around me and her head pressed into the base of my neck between my shoulder blades. Every once in a while I’ll feel a strand of her long blonde hair strike me in the cheek or jaw like a little stinging whip. I can smell her shampoo. It’s a sunny day without a single cloud in the sky. The springtime coolness has given way to summer warmth, but it’s still early enough that there’s no grimy humidity, so the air produces tiny goosebumps on our flesh as we barrel down the shoreline. The late afternoon sun is shining straight into my eyes, but if I squint, I can make out enough details among the coves to help me find my way. I’m looking for something. Not exactly some THING, but some situation. She’s going to help me live out a fantasy today.
After about 15 minutes of riding, I noticed that her hands were slowly descending down the zipper in the front of my ski vest. First, her right hand dropped down underneath the bottom of the vest and sat atop the waistband of my swim shorts. I felt her thumb stroke the hair under my belly button ever so gently, like a maiden reaching out toward a butterfly in the dewy grass. Her left hand had made its way to my thigh. It wasn’t gripping me. It was just resting there. Waiting. I needed to find what I was looking for. Fast. There was a palpable electricity that seemed to travel from her left hand to the bulge in my shorts, like a magnet drawing in a paperclip.
After a few more moments of scanning the shoreline and the horizon, I spotted my goal. Tucked back into a small cove just off the main waterway was a small, green boat with a silver outboard motor in the back and a tiny trolling motor on the front. A couple was in the boat with fishing rods in hand, sitting in the rotating elevated chairs that allowed them a panoramic view of the water around them. The male member of the couple sat in the back, quietly sipping his beer from a bottle with one hand and gently grasping his fishing rod with the other. The female sat up front, casting her bait into the water with a long smooth motion. The couple turned their heads to watch as I guided the jetski into the cove on the other side of their boat, giving them an extra wide berth, so as not to spook them. Fishermen and jetskis are kind of natural enemies on the water: the fishermen hate us for being noisy, hyperactive nuisances and we hate the fishermen for, well, just being boring fuddy-duddies. But today, we were going to live in peace and harmony.
I turned off the jetski’s engine a couple dozen feet from the shore and sat quietly enjoying the sights and sounds of the silent lake and the forest around it. And also her hand on my thigh, still in the vicinity of its goal, but not quite touching it. After a moment of silence, I raised up and turned backwards to face her on the seat, and leaned against the handlebars of the jetski, my legs straddling the seat. While I took off my ski vest, I motioned for her to turn her back to me and sit as I was. She followed suit and removed her vest and turned backwards in the seat, settling her torso into my chest and snuggling against me. I looked over toward the fisher-couple that were about two hundred feet away and noticed they were warily eyeing us, probably hoping we weren’t going to ruin their quiet fishing spot with a big commotion. Little did they know that we had an entirely different sort of thing in mind.
I took a moment to get a better look at the couple that we had intruded upon. Ms. Fisherlady was a pleasant enough looking woman from my vantage point, with dark brown hair and a slim figure. She appeared to be in her mid-to-late thirties. Mr. Fisherman was a stout fellow, with a mostly balding head and a pot belly. Probably liked to drink those beers a bit too much for his own good and enjoyed Ms. Fisherlady’s cooking on the regular. He seemed to be a few years older than she. Every few seconds, one or both of them would glare in our direction with a frown on their face and maybe shake their heads slightly in disapproval. I was jolted back to my reality by the movement of her in my arms as she shifted herself in the seat to get more comfortable. I wrapped my arms around her, just underneath her chest, and squeezed tightly. I nuzzled the top of her head with my face and breathed in deeply. She did the same. Relaxing my grip on her body slightly, my hands found her breasts: right hand on left breast and left hand crossed over on the right one. I squeezed them gently and held them there. She wrapped her arms over mine, but not before the tips of my first two fingers had begun to massage her nipples over the top of her swimsuit. I watched over her shoulder as her cute little buds began to stiffen and I could feel them grow under the thin material of her bikini top. We sat together in silence, save for the occasional deep breath. I kept rubbing, listening to the ripples of the water lap against the hull of my jetski. The breeze had pushed the jetski around so that our backs were to the fishing couple and I took the opportunity to quickly reach behind her back and unclasp the top of her bikini and toss it into the footwell, exposing her supple tits to the creatures of the forest. What they lack in size, they make up for in sheer beauty. Perfectly round orbs of splendor. I returned my fingers to her nipples and began to tug and pull, first gently, then harder, then gently again. As I listened to her breathing increase and watched her back ever-so-slightly arch to meet my hands, I smiled to myself as the jetski slowly began to spin in the water, finally allowing our fishing companions a glimpse of her topless body and my fingers dancing all over them. She reached her arms around behind my neck and pulled my head closer to her cheek, brushing her lips against my ear while exhaling deeply. I laughed to myself as I watched Ms. Fisherlady’s eyes widen and saw Mr. Fisherman almost drop his beer mid-swig. The couple stared transfixed as I played with her tits for the next several minutes.
Her hands began to do a dance of their own as I continued stroking her nipples to attention, alternating between running her fingers through my hair and gripping my legs that cradled her body. She shifted forward slightly in her seat in order to relieve the pressure her back was putting on my growing member and just as quickly slid her rear end backwards so that the bulge in my swimsuit became buried in the pink material of her bikini bottoms. She rocked back and forth on me for another several minutes as we continued to put on a show for our neighbors in the boat. From my vantage point, I could barely make out the growing wet spot that was forming on her bikini bottoms and knew that it was time to start Act 2 of our little production.
As the ski spun around in one of its slow rotations to give a clear view to the fisherpeople, I reached my hand down between her legs and pulled her swimsuit to the side, revealing her swollen, dripping pussy to our audience. She spread her legs wide to allow my fingers access to her womanhood. I slowly ran two fingers from the top of her valley all the way to her lips and plunged them deep inside the juicy hole, massaging her g-spot vigorously while I finger-fucked her. Her back-and-forth rocking intensified until I pulled my dripping fingers from her and brought them to my mouth and licked them like I was eating an ice cream cone, while staring directly into the eyes of Ms. Fisherlady. The female fisherperson locked eyes back with me and I saw the edge of her mouth raise into a sly smile. She was enjoying the show. My partner’s pussy juice tasted sweet in my parched mouth. I decided that it was time to get rid of the bikini bottoms completely, so I put my hands under her ass just far enough to lift it a couple inches off the seat of the jetski. She obliged by lifting her feet onto the seat, so that the bikini could be removed easily and helped out by reaching down to pull it off over her feet. She dropped it on top of the matching top in the footwell.
Instead of returning to her original position seated with her back to me, she turned to face me with her knees on the seat under her and her ass and pussy on full display for the fisher-folks. She gave me a deep kiss and licked my lips as she pulled her face from mine and buried her face into my chest and stomach. Her lips and tongue danced all over my chest – occasionally lingering on my nipples or my belly button for a split second. I became aware of the tip of my cock peeking out from under the waistband of my swimsuit. And she also became aware of it. Just as I thought she was going back in for another lick on my nipple, her head changed direction and I felt her tongue sweep over the tip of my dick. I moaned an audible “Ahhh…,” as I ran my fingers through her hair. Upon hearing my pleasure, she responded by ripping open the Velcro fly of my suit and dragging my pants off of me. Without hesitation, she wrapped my cockhead in her sweet lips and began to run the tip of her tongue over the underside of my head, while moving her head up and down in a gentle rhythm. It was magical. Her movements became slower, but my cock began to disappear farther into her mouth with each bob of her head. After a few moments of this, the tip of my cock jammed into her throat and she held it there for what seemed an eternity, gripping it with the muscles of her throat.
Nearly forgetting that we had an audience, I became so caught up in my own pleasure that it took a couple minutes to register what was happening in the boat next door. Both Mr. and Ms. Fisherpeople had taken off their shorts and were masturbating furiously as I got head from her. Mr. Fisherman seemed to be paying extra attention to her exposed ass and pussy thrust up toward the sky. Ms. Fisherlady was using her hand on herself like a kid in a pet store full of puppies. It never stopped moving.
Almost without thinking, I grabbed her head and lifted it from my pole. I stood up from the jetski seat and motioned for her to turn around. She remained knees-up on the seat, but assumed a position facing our viewing audience, while I stepped up to the prize. I grabbed her ass cheeks with both hands and spread them apart, bending down momentarily to run my tongue from the tip of her swollen clit, past her bright-red pussy lips, darting into her dripping snatch and climbing all the way to her puckered asshole. I rimmed her for a several seconds, gave her pink butthole a quick flip of my tongue, and stood back up to begin to slide the tip of my cock slowly into her love tunnel. I let the head linger at the entrance to her pussy, feeling her clenching around it and hearing her moan in anticipation. The walls of her pussy were almost pulling my cock deeper inside with each spasm. I plunged it home and heard her let out a low, animalistic moan of pleasure. My thrusting was picking up steam and her bucking and moaning were following suit. I fucked her hard and deep. After a minute or so, I once again locked eyes with Ms. Fisherlady, winked at her, smirked and raised my right hand above my head for a split-second before smacking the ass cheek I was pounding into with a hard, swift, THWACK! My partner let out a short yelp and the female in the boat tilted her head back and moaned in pleasure. Just as quickly as I had laid into her ass, she began to writhe and buck in ecstasy. She screamed and wriggled underneath my thrusting and finally orgasmed in an explosion of vulgarities and swears.
I pulled my rock-hard dick from her worn-out hole and turned her around to face me in the seat. My cock bobbed in front of her face at eye level and she knew exactly what to do. She grabbed it with both hands and pulled it into her waiting mouth like a runner downing a bottle of water after a marathon. She sucked and I face-fucked her. I felt the impending explosion from my balls and yanked my cock from her hungry mouth and took a step back so that I had a target. It only took two or three quick strokes of my hand to start the fireworks. As I came, I pointed my cock toward her upturned face, adjusted the angle for the extra distance, and let it fly. My load shot out of me like ropes of warm, thick cream and splashed across her face as if I was icing a pastry. Three long strands landed directly across her chin and didn’t end until they stopped on her forehead. I painted a masterpiece across her face with my sweet cum. Just when I thought I might faint from exertion, I looked over to our neighbors in the boat next door just in time to Mr. Fisherman deposit his load into the waiting mouth of Ms. Fisherlady with a groan. Ms. Fisherlady stuck out her tongue to display the white goodness perched on its tip just before tipping her head back, closing her mouth and swallowing.
After resting in the bliss of what had just occurred, all four of us jumped into the cool water to rinse ourselves off, dried off in the cool afternoon air, and waited to get our energy back for round two.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/6vdl6r/lake_fantasy_mfpublic