The cabin at Point Rendezvous had a seemingly odd layout. Your boyfriend, Steve, had explained that the center of the cabin was where all the electrical, plumbing, and whatnot must have been placed. It made sense; the cabin’s flow seemed to be like walking around a central room that didn’t have an obvious way inside. You thought that maybe it was under the covered porch that hung over the mountainside. When you stood out there, it felt like you were floating in the forest looking down at the still lake below.
The dock below tempted you, but you hadn’t brought a swimsuit. You had already thought about slipping away in the middle of the night. And your boyfriend had said that you should at least lay out there, take advantage of the sun, even if his recent ankle sprain prevented him from joining you. If he hadn’t done that to himself after the cancelation window had closed, you probably would have canceled the trip. He insisted that you both still go, so, here you were.
That dock was shared with the other cabin further down the mountainside. The cabin you rented was a luxury stay – the kind of place couples go away for a secluded weekend of skinny-dipping and constant fucking. You’d gotten a deal because Steve knew the owners. He was fiends with their son, who was staying in the fishing cabin at the lakeside during your stay, and knew them through a resort he’d been a member of before you met. The son’s cabin was much smaller, maybe a couple small rooms and a mudroom full of fishing gear.
The first night was a bust. The noise of music from the cabin below was a background distraction that echoed all around the lake. Steve’s libido had been down lately, the sprained ankle made it worse, and the wine on the first night knocked him out early. So much for the constant fucking. Skinny-dipping was still be in order though.
You didn’t have to be quiet slipping out the door. It was dark. The closest cabin was blasting workout—rock, and the next closest was a scout-camp on the other side of the point out-of-sight. Fuck it. You took your clothes off as soon as you got out the door and carried them down the trail with you to the dock. Upon arriving, you took off your shoes and set everything in a pile on the dock and climbed down the ladder at the end of the dock into the cool mountain water. Few things in the world felt as freeing as slipping naked into the indigo water and floating without a care in the world.
The lame music dampered things a little, and the fact that you wouldn’t be sliding Steve’s cock into you on the porch or dock was not the ending you’d hoped for, but this feeling was still one you didn’t want to end. Then you heard a crunch echo around the valley. You looked back to the dock to see the silhouette of someone standing at the front door of the small cabin. The shadow raised a beer can in the air like you were being toasted. The man took a swig and walked back into the cabin.
How much had that stranger, who you figured was the son, seen? In this darkness, how much could he see? You knew he could see you in the water, but he probably didn’t know you were naked… did he? Everyone skinny-dips here, you recalled. He didn’t need to see it; he knew you were, you assumed.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
The following morning, you kissed Steve goodbye for your morning hike while he sat on the porch reading his latest “thriller” novel. You didn’t understand why they were called “thrillers;” stories about bankers being bankers and doing lots of cocaine weren’t thrilling in the least. Steve wasn’t thrilling either. You tried sucking on his cock before he woke up to get things going – you were willing to do all the work, riding him until he erupted into you, but he never got hard before your mouth started to feel dry and jaw started to hurt. This was a fucking vacation, and you needed to fuck.
You wanted to head down the trail towards the dock. There was a trail that looped around the lakeside for about two and a half miles. You decided not to run it because of all the rocks. The last thing you wanted to do was slip and end up as lame as Steve. “Lame” was starting to have multiple meanings.
You paused when you got to the dock, momentarily wondering if the son had seen you in last evening’s swim. You were glad he’d kept his distance. It may have been a 70s’ sexploitation cliche to steal the naked girl’s clothes, but it felt violating in reality. Then, you turned, and he was standing by the fishing cabin.
He didn’t look as you had pictured him. He was maybe average height, shorter than the six-foot Steve, for sure. He wore a buzz-cut, and was probably the type to say that it was convenient. The same was probably true about the short, stubbly beard. He was drinking a water and stepped out of the doorway to a wooden chair on the cabin’s small porch. He was wearing workout clothes and was sweating. “Good morning,” he said with a voice that soothed like warm coffee on a brisk morning. He was handsome and fit in a way that had you hoping he had indeed seen everything last night.
“Is everything at the cabin working okay?” he asked. “No issues with heating or AC?”
It was odd to you that he didn’t introduce himself, even though you knew his name was Andrew. You just carried on answering his question. “Oh, no, everything is fine.”
“And the plumbing?” he asked.
Fuck, he did see you. Didn’t he? You nodded. “It’s lovely here,” you added looking around the lake at the mountains and forest and changing the subject.
“It is,” he replied. “It’s like a little fantasy oasis for me.” His tone and expressions didn’t give you an impression one way or the other that he was trying to seduce you, or that he was upset at your late-night swim. “Let me know if you encounter any issues up there, okay?”
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
You played that conversation over and over in your mind as you hiked around the lake. It wasn’t until you had gotten almost all the way across the lake opposite from the cabin that you realized that you hadn’t so much as thought about Steve. It flooded back to you in that moment. His limping. His whining. His small dick. His lame behavior on this vacation. He did have his good qualities – he was the opposite of your normal type and that had been something stabilizing in your life since you met him, but you missed parts of your life from before him.
It wasn’t unusual for you to go out on Friday or Saturday nights and call a different fuck-buddy for each night before him. You had a stable of six or seven guys you had been seeing casually with various frequency for the previous four years before Steve. You’d thought about texting them since you met him, maybe just to sneak away for an afternoon while Steve worked late. You never did. This vacation was starting to make you regret not doing that. You’d never admit that to anyone, not even your closest friends, but you knew it deep down. You always knew it when your hand found its way down into your panties every now and then. You missed running your hands over Bobby’s farm-chiseled body, letting Deron’s long cock challenge your throat, and sitting on Luis’ face in his home gym. That was your type, it drove you wild. Andrew fit that type perfectly.
Speaking of your hand finding its way into your panties, you found yourself leaned back up against a tree and looking out towards the lake. You gazed up at the cabin you and Steve shared, then down to the fishing cabin Andrew stayed in. When your eyes hit that front door, your fingers started swirling faster around your needy clit. “Fuck! Me!” you shouted out as you started to feel that ripple shuddering through you. You felt the wetness soak into your hiking shorts and your body trembled with bliss.
You took a couple deep breaths as the pictures of Andrew in your mind started to fade away. You opened your eyes and glanced over to the scout-camp around Point Rendezvous. There he was, looking across the lake having just pulled a canoe onto the shore at the camp. You felt out-in-the-open considering the trail and echoing climax, but you were sure the shrubs were hiding you. His gaze never fixed on your exact spot, but you were absolutely thinking about fixing other parts of him in other spots even more now.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
His canoe was still there when you arrived at the scout camp. It wasn’t summer camp season yet, but the place had been cleaned up preparing for the influx of campers. It wasn’t a large camp, and he wasn’t hard to find. You could hear the ax smashing through wood well before you arrived at the camp itself.
You snuck over to where the sound came from and were treated to the kind of show you only fantasized about. Andrew was there, splitting wood with a maul, not wearing a shirt, and dripping with sweat. You could see every muscle rippling, and every bead of sweat made your mouth water and cunt wetter. Fuck, this was something out of your dreams. This is where your mind would wander when Steve did his best to slide inside you or aimlessly lick the general area of your pussy. The violence of the ax hitting the wood and the pounding noise it made as it struck the chopping block made you day dream of poundings. The splitting wood made you day dream of splitting your legs open for him. Fuck, it was all too much. You snuck back away and practically raced back to the cabin for your vibrator and butt plug.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
You arrived back at the cabin and found a note from Steve. “Needed pain reliever and stuff for dinner. Ran to the town and store. Be back soon. Andrew’s cell number is at the bottom of the note if anything goes wrong. Love you, Schnookums!!!”
Schnookums. Goddamn, did you hate that. You would far rather be under Andrew as he whispered how much of a whore you were than ever hear Steve call you that again.
You had an agenda. First, insert the butt plug. Second, grab the vibrator. Third, get in the shower and cum until you couldn’t stand. Fourth, migrate to the bed and keep cumming until you fell asleep. Steps one and two were complete, but the shower wouldn’t come on. The pipes made a thumping noise, and a little water spurted out, but that was it. The frustration was intense. You got dressed, marched into he kitchen, slammed the vibrator down on the table, and picked up your phone to call Andrew.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
He was there quite quickly, and you walked him into the front door, through the kitchen and around to the bedroom and then the bathroom. You turned the knob to turn the water on, and, like magic, the water came on just fine. You were stunned. You almost forgot that the butt plug was still in. It just did nothing mere minutes earlier, and here it was like someone was controlling the water with an on-off switch.
Andrew glanced over to you with a skeptical, stern look on your face. “Was this all an elaborate ruse to get me up here while your boyfriend is in town?” he asked. His tone… you were wet. You swallowed hard. You felt your ass squeeze the plug hard.
“Yes, sir,” you said.
He slid his hand up your arm, your shoulder, and to the back of your neck. He grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled your head back. “That’s a very bad girl,” he said. “You need punishment.” Your clit ached. This is what you needed.
He led you to the bed by your hair and sat down on the edge. He pulled you across his lap, and yanked your hiking pants down. Your ass was exposed and goose-bumped anticipating each welcome smack. He told you that he saw you the night before. He told you that he knew exactly where you were when you came on the trail. He told you how slutty you looked wearing a butt-plug to your first fuck with him.
He spanked you hard between each little recounting of your behavior. You felt like the whore you used to be. It had been so long since you relished in this kind of lust. You felt high, powerful, and desired. You practically inhaled his cock, showing off how deep into your throat you could take it. You rode him like you had been a real pornstar, not just some girl who’d let fuck-buddies take short videos of her. When he told you he was about to cum while railing you from behind, you dropped to your knees and opened your mouth. You swallowed every drop.
You had cum, been used, been spanked, and felt the rush like you did the first time you did coke. Then he said the most unexpected thing, “Hey, Steve! Good job with the water!”
A bookcase in the wall swung out revealing Steve coming out of a central room in the cabin. “Thanks, my dude,” he said.
“No, thank you, dude,” Andrew said to Steve. “This girl can really fuck,” he said pointing to you.
“I know, right,” he replied. “I had her looked into before we started dating.”
“I know, man,” Andrew said looking down to you. “I remember all the things you told me you found out about her.” He looked back at Steve. “How hard is the little guy now?” Andrew pointed at Steve’s crotch where a bulge poked out behind his zipper.
“Dude,” he said, “this is what he needed.” He was beaming, and you were so confused – still horny and dick-drunk, but confused. “You want a beer? You, babe?” You both nodded.
Andrew looked back down at you, “So, how do you feel about learning that your boyfriend watching you fuck other guys turns him on?”
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
You answered that question with enthusiasm. You fucked Andrew multiple times per day every day during the rest of your stay. You fucked at the kitchen table while Steve made breakfast. You fucked in the bed next to Steve while he tried to sleep in. You made love with the falling rain outside the porch while Steve jerked off and watched. You gave Andrew your mouth, pussy, and ass while Steve was only given his own hand.
On the last day, you and Andrew skinny-dipped while Steve sat on the dock. When you both got out, Andrew fucked you on a towel next to Steve. He pumped you full enough of cum that you wondered how he had any left, or had this much stamina at all.
Steve asked if you loved him while Andrew’s dick was still stuffed deep inside you, pressing against your cervix. You said that you did. And, to be fair, you really did after learning this secret. Maybe, you needed a secret now. He didn’t need to know that you hoped to see Andrew again and again, or that you had stopped taking your birth control a couple weeks before the vacation.
You had no idea that any of this would happen, but, as Andrew’s wet, still hard cock, slid out of you, as a little bit of cum spilled out of your pussy onto the towel below, you imagined that the rendezvous at Point Rendezvous might have changed your life.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/unfnz7/point_rendezvous_mfcuckoldhot_past