Lakeside

Once upon a time, probably not that long ago, it had been a fashionable, expensive, upscale resort. The place had gone downhill. It was now kind of run-down, rather seedy, and cheap.

My boyfriend –now ex-boyfriend– had turned me onto the place three summers ago. It was run by an old Latvian couple; the rooms were on the small side and the beds were kind of lumpy; and though there was technically lake access, there was more mud and cat-tails on the beach than sand. Most people preferred to walk the half-mile or so to the public bathing area.

One of the nice things about the place (other than it being cheap) was that it was never crowded. I imagine once upon a time working class vacationers had flocked in by the busload; this particular summer there were only four other guests. Six if you count the kids. There was an older Jewish guy, and his younger, fatter wife; and there what I dubbed the Wall Street family: a frosty, Nordic-featured married couple who looked like they might be investment bankers or stockbrokers and who spent a lot of time typing into their Blackberries and complaining about the spotty cell service; and their kids. The girl was sixteen or seventeen, and I had a raging crush on her from day one: she was all soft and fluffy and bubbly, and she had big bouncy boobs and a big squeezable butt. Her boobies looked to be bigger than mine, and were definitely perkier. She kind of reminded me of a bunny rabbit. A very sexy bunny rabbit. I wondered if she was a virgin. I wondered if she fooled around with girls. I wondered if she masturbated. And then there was her younger brother, a young teen, on the portly and doughy end of the spectrum. The kids had their own rooms, presumably so that the parents could get some much needed quiet time. I wondered if they ever powered down their laptops. They never seemed to even look at each other.

On the morning of the first full day of my vacation, I ate my breakfast downstairs while the Jewish couple kvetched and the Wall Street family squabbled; I downed a Bloody Mary, grabbed a towel and a smutty book, and headed out for the lake.

The Wall Street family left just ahead of me, hiking off toward the public beach. Mom and Dad had their laptops in hand, and were both yacking irritably into their cell phones. Their teenage daughter wiggled and jiggled behind them in a skimpy little purple two-piece swimsuit. She had a mop of curly blonde hair, and her pale skin glistened with sunblock. I thought about how nice her skin would look glistening with my girl come. The younger brother skulked along behind in a red pair of swim trunks. Lucky little shit; he’d probably seen her naked!

Tempted as I was to follow them to the beach, perving on my teen-dream and her bikini bottom the whole way, lusting after that cute little dimple that demarked the beginning of her butt crack, I turned off the road and took the half-overgrown trail toward the resort’s private beach access. Hardly anyone ever used it. The trail was muddy and indistinct in places. It ended abruptly in a little clearing right on the water. A pair of beach chairs were decomposing there amongst the reeds. Not a human in sight. Perfect.

I spread out my towel on the least rotten looking of the chairs, slathered sunscreen, lay down on my back and read my smutty book. I was having trouble concentrating, but that was ok. My thoughts kept drifting back to that jail-bait teenage girl. I imagined coming back to the resort late that night, a little drunk. I imagined stumbling into her room by mistake. It could happen to anyone! The door wouldn’t be locked, and she would be lying on top of her sheets in the un-air conditioned summer heat, wearing nothing but a pair of panties, her hands busy between her shapely thighs. I’d strip without a word, letting my summer dress fall into a heap on the floor, sliding into bed next to her, pressing my sweaty flesh against hers. Our lips would meet, soft lips brushing against each other, tongues shyly, tentatively exploring as my hand replaced hers inside her panties…

I was getting seriously hot and bothered. What the hell, that’s exactly why I came out here, right? Taking a quick look around, just to be sure, I pulled my top off over my head.

Usually, more often than not, I masturbate in conventional fashion. Fingers on clit; vibrator on clit; or if I’m feeling particularly ambitious maybe a dildo in my pussy or possibly my asshole. Sometimes, however, I don’t even touch my pussy. I can, with a lot of work, make myself come just from nipple stimulation; it takes a while, but the result is well worth the effort.

I rolled my nipples between thumb and forefinger, feeling them stiffen and swell, savoring the pleasurable twinges that radiated out all the way down to my clit. I tugged harder, distending my nipples, making it hurt a little. I thought about feeling her wetness inside her panties, tugging them distractedly off while we kissed, her breasts squeezed up against my own. I tugged harder on my tits, pinching them viciously. My hips were responding involuntarily now, squirming and humping against air. I imagined sliding my head down her soft young body until my head was between her thick, pale thighs. I imagined pressing my face into her fluffy muff, parting her puffy lips with my tongue, and sampling the taste of her already wet virgin little pussy…

A flash of movement in the corner of my eye. Red. I was not alone. I looked, and looked again. There he was, behind a tree at the edge of the clearing; the pudgy pasty younger brother. Spying on me. He had one hand down the front of his red swim trunks. Little shit.

I didn’t stop. Partly it was because I was already too far gone to quit; partly it was because my inner pervert liked the idea of having an audience, even if he was a shit head middle school punk kid. My clit was throbbing like a joy buzzer and my cunt felt wet enough to soak through my swimsuit. I tugged, twisted, pinched, pulled on my nipples, moving rhythmically, really getting into it, moaning out loud, arching my back, and not just for his benefit. I could feel myself slipping over the edge, into a long, slow, deep orgasm, and I surrendered to it. Mmmm, it felt nice. The tremors hit me again and again. When I was finally done twitching, I relaxed my grip on my tender nipples and sighed, slumping into the chair. My pussy was squishy and wide open; maybe I’d go for it again in a little while, only this time dabbling my fingers in the main attraction. First, though, a little swim. I sat up and retrieved my swimsuit top. No sign of the boy now. He was gone.

I ran into him back at the resort that evening after dinner. I was on my way up to my room after a session drinking solo in the dank little hotel bar; he was at the coke machine. He was shorter than me. Toe-to-toe, his face was level with my tits. He leered at me, and I scowled back.

“I saw you this morning” he said smugly.

“Well, duh.” I told him.

“You wanna give me a blowjob?”

“Who are you? I don’t even know your name.”

“I’m Oliver,” he said.

“What’s your sister’s name? She’s pretty cute.”

“You’re pretty cute too. Her name’s Olivia.”

“Really? Oliver and Olivia? That’s kind of fucked up.”

“My parents are pretty fucked up. I think they’re getting a divorce.”

“Sorry. Wanna come back to my room? You can watch me whack off again, but no touching.”

“Ok!” There was a big fat smile on his greasy young face. What was he, 13, 14? I wondered if he’d ever seen an actual pair of naked breasts before mine. The thought made me feel oddly smug and self-satisfied.

He followed me into my room, closed the door, stood nervously in front of it. He seemed unsure what to say, what to do with his hands. I nonchalantly stepped out of my jeans and peeled off my top, setting my breasts free. The nipples were already excited, pointing up and out.

“Do you like them?” I asked, massaging my boobs, playing idly with the nipples.

“They’re pretty nice,” he said, “My sister Olivia’s are bigger though.”

Damn, kid! You sure know how to sweet talk a lady. Even if it was true…

I kept my eyes locked on his as I tugged and pulled on my nipples, getting myself nice and warmed up. It wasn’t taking very long, I was already feeling mighty juicy down there. I lounged on the bed, sticking one hand inside my panties. Good and wet.

He stepped closer. I could feel his eyes on me, I could see the boner in his pants. He wanted me. Good. I pet my clit inside my panties.

“Let me see your cunt,” he said.

“Call it a pussy, that’s more polite,” I said. I was drawing tiny concentric circles around the red-hot little pea that was my clitoris. Right now what would feel really good was a big fat cock jammed right up there.

“Can I see your pussy?”

“No,” I said. Mmmm that felt nice! I was going to make myself come, and soon.

“Can I masturbate?” he asked. Was that a touch of desperation in his voice?

“Be my guest,” I told him.

Quick as a squirrel grabbing a nut, he had his zipper down and his erect penis out. It was cute, definitely on the small side. It looked like it would fit easily in my mouth, the whole thing, no gagging. A practiced hand started jerking off. I matched his pace.

“I wanna cum on your face, slut.”

Little shit had obviously watched a lot of porn. “No way,” I told him.

“Can I cum on your tits then?”

I was close. Real close. “Sure,” I said.

My hand was moving like a banjo strummer inside my panties. I slipped over the edge into a strong, uterus-shaking orgasm, just as Oliver hollered out “Oh Fuck!” and shot off, squirting hot, sticky boy-come all over my face. It landed all over my cheek, on my lips, up my nose. I was still riding the waves of my orgasm, grinding against my own fingers. The whole scene was downright pornographic.

I’d never had a guy come on my face before. As rude, demeaning, and clichéd as it was, the perverted part of me kind of liked it. Probably for exactly those reasons.

“Okay,” I said when the last tremors had passed and I lay still on the bed, glowing quietly, “Time for you to go to bed.”

“Your bed?”

“Nope. Your bed. In your room. Alone.”

He looked slightly crestfallen, his limp penis hanging out his fly, still drooling come.

“I’ve seen her naked,” he said.

“Olivia?”

“Yeah.” He twisted his face into a grimace that was probably supposed to look sexy. “I ‘accidentally’ walked into the bathroom when she was taking a shower. She’s blonde all over.”

“Meet me lakeside tomorrow. Same place, same time. Don’t be late.”

Alone in the hot, dark room, I masturbated again, Oliver’s adolescent semen drying on my face. It had been a long while since I’d had a real, actual penis in my vagina. Oliver had a cute penis. I wondered what he’d think if I told him that; it might make up for the breast comment and the uninvited facial. Tactful little shit. No guy in history has ever liked having his genitals described as ‘cute’. I wondered if his cock was small because it was small, or if it was just because of his age. When I came, my head was filled with confusing, twisted images of brother and sister intertwined, naked, and me somewhere in the middle.

Through the thin plaster-lathe wall I could hear the Jewish couple; the fat lady and the elderly man, fucking. Their bed creaked obnoxiously. I wondered if they’d heard Oliver and me getting off earlier, and I suppressed a wicked case of the giggles.

*

He wasn’t late.

“Do I get to see your cunt today?” He leered at me.

“Fat chance,” I said, “Get undressed.”

No arguments there. He was kind of a pudgy little dude; he had a gut, and his boy-boobs could have fit an A-cup bra. There was not one trace of hair on his barrel chest. He had the barest patch of fluffy, whisper-soft, light brown pubes. His cock, I was pleased to see, was already hard, straining skyward.

I pulled off my top, setting my tits free, enjoying the look on his face as he ogled me. I felt a sudden thrill at the dangerousness of the situation: what would happen if someone happened to walk in on us? My clit twitched and tingled with excitement.

I lay down on the creaky, rotting beach chair, and had him stand straddling me, his bare feel planted to either side of my hips. I had a fantastic view of his gear: his jiggling, fuzzy balls, his erect dick. I slipped a hand inside my swimsuit bottom. My pussy was nice and wet. I brought my slippery fingers up to my erect nipples, pinching, pulling and twisting them cruelly as he jerked off above me. Within moments we were both moaning, groaning, and whining with excitement. His cock seemed to swell and pulse, his hand moved up and down like a metronome.

“Oh shit!” he suddenly wheezed, arching his back and squeezing his cock so hard his knuckles went white, “Take it, Bitch!”

Hot boy jizz squirted out of his over-excited cock, spattering come all over my tits in big fat drops like a summer rainstorm. I watched greedily, pulling hard on my nipples as he milked every last drop out of his diminishing penis.

He was panting, breathing hard as if he’d just run a mile. I stuck a hand back down my shorts. Wet does not begin to describe the situation down there. “Now lick it all off,” I told him. He did.

The image and the sensation of him licking his own semen off my breasts, combined with the action of my fingers inside my drenched pussy and on my clit brought me off like Fourth of July fireworks. The orgasm wracked through my body, making me twist and curl up, mashing my boobs into his hungry face. It was the most satisfying one I’d had in a while, and the aftershocks kept me twitching for a long time.

I let him lick my sticky fingers clean. His dick was getting hard again. “Get dressed,” I told him, “Get lost. Get out of here before somebody wonders where you are. Go play with your sister.”

“She’s a virgin,” he told me.

“How do you know?”

“I’ve read her diary.”

I bet you have, you little shit.

And then because I couldn’t help myself: “Does she like girls?”

Oliver leered knowingly at me. “I think she’s bi-curious. I know she’s had a crush on a girl.”

“Come back here tomorrow and we’ll do it again.”

*

The vacation days slid quickly by, turning inevitably into weeks. Oliver and I got together every single day, sometimes twice, for a jerk-off session. He still wheedled and cajoled me for a blowjob or a look at my cunt, but I suspected his pleas were mostly pro forma; he seemed perfectly happy with our arrangement. As was I.

He continued to call me a cunt, a bitch, and a slut, and I didn’t correct him. Sometimes, if I was in a generous mood, I’d let him play with my boobs while I whacked off; if I was feeling especially magnanimous I’d let him come on my face, which really seemed to do it for him. I remained somewhat amazed at the large quantity of come his body was able to ejaculate on a daily basis; but then again he was a 14 year old boy. Or 13, or whatever.

One morning, near the end of the holiday, we were walking up the road to the public beach together, with bad intent. That is, I knew I had bad intent: the two Bloody Mary’s I’d had for breakfast and the buzzing in my clit told me so; and I suspected he had the same kind of intent from the conspicuous lump in the front of his swim trunks.

A group of five or six poser skate punks about Oliver’s age were hanging out in front of the convenience store, and as we walked past they sneered at him:

“Wazzup Olly? How’s it hanging?”

He resolutely ignored them, facing straight ahead. I could feel the tension in his body.

“Is that your girlfriend? I bet it’s his babysitter!” Snorking derisive laughter all round.

I realized with sudden clarity that Oliver, for all his bluster and bluff, was not and never would be one of the cool kids. These guys were popular; they would join cliques, date cheerleaders, lose their virginity in parked cars, and get varsity letters. Oliver would be the fat kid they made fun of in the locker room; he was a geek, a nerd, a doofus; he’d spend his high school years jerking off to internet porn in the solitary darkness of his bedroom.

Still walking, I half-turned, grabbing the cups of my bikini top with both hands and lifting them up and off, flashing my breasts at the cool boys. Their laughter was silenced as if someone had pressed a mute button. Mouths hung open mid-taunt, eyes went round and wide. I covered back up and we continued walking. I took Oliver’s hand in my own, and felt his glow as we walked the rest of the way down to the beach.

In the water up to my chest and his neck, out by the buoys that marked the limit of the swimming area, I let him stick his hand down inside my swimsuit. The cool lake water mixed pleasantly with my wetness. I rubbed his hard-on through the front of his trunks.

Olivia flounced her way down onto the beach in her skimpy red bikini, boobs bobbing with every step, her blonde hair resplendent in the bright summer sun. I stared unabashedly at her, her thick curvaceous thighs, the sexy crease where they met her bikini bottom.

“God, I’d love to lick her pussy,” I sighed.

“Me too,” Oliver intoned wistfully.

“Really?” His dick felt like a Magic Marker inside his swimsuit.

“Shit yeah. I’d lick her cunt in a heartbeat if she ever gave me the chance!”

“Let’s go back to my room,” I said.

We left Olivia sunning herself on the pebbly beach, listening to her iPod and quietly enjoying being the center of attention. Oliver and I hustled back to the resort, my musty room with the lumpy bed and peeling wallpaper. I slammed the door behind us, peeling off my damp swimsuit and tossing it onto the floor.

He stared hungrily at my naked body. “Why don’t you shave your cunt?’ he asked.

“Because I don’t want to,” I told him, “Take off your shorts.”

“Ok” he said.

I lay flat on my back, sprawled lengthwise across the bed with my legs splayed so wide apart that the tendons in my thighs stuck out and ached. Oliver got down on his knees on the plank floor and buried his pasty young face into my crotch.

He was down there for two or three minutes. I have to say, it didn’t do that much for me. He was an inexperienced, indiscriminate licker. When he popped up for air, my wetness shone stickily on his face.

“Did I do ok?” he asked.

“You were awesome,” I said, “Come up here.”

We lay side by side on the bed, our bodies pressed sweatily against each other. I took his hand in mine and guided his finger down between my legs. I showed him how to touch me, moving his hand slowly up and down my pussy, darting inside, spreading the wetness all around. His cock was in my hand, harder than hard.

“A little higher,” I whispered. His fingertip found my swollen clit, and I jumped. “Gentle, gentle… draw little circles around it.” Our hands moved in tandem, my thumb and forefinger encircling his erection. Faster and faster we moved, our breath coming in pants and gasps, our bodies bucking and straining. He lowered his mouth onto one tit, capturing the nipple, sucking hard.

We came together. I felt his cock twitch in my hand just as my own orgasm exploded, wracking my body with shattering jolts of pleasure. His hand never stopped moving the whole way through it. I was crying out loud, shaking, and so was he.

I ended up lying on top of him, my boobs squished against his smooth chest, his come squishing in between our bellies. We were breathing hard and drenched in sweat. I kissed him, and he kissed me softly back, his lips trembling like a butterfly spreading its wings for the first time.

We fell asleep like that for a while in the hot, dark room. When we woke up, my arm had the pins and needles, and we were glued together. The Jewish couple next door was having their afternoon fuck session, and their bed squeaked like a desiccated accordion.

He got up and started pulling on his swim shorts and t-shirt. “I’ve jerked off into her underwear before,” he told me.

“I bet you have,” I said, “I probably would too, in your shoes.”

*

The last day of vacation dawned rainy and sullen, with low grey clouds hovering overhead. It was humid, and occasional squalls of rain lashed and rattled the windows. My period came on like a sack full of bricks.

I sat, hung-over, bleeding and crampy, in the dining hall, sipping my Bloody Mary and watching the Wall Street family across the room. The parents were silent, aloof. Olivia looked sulky and petulant. Oliver looked irritable and twitchy. The Jewish couple sat down next to me, complaining loudly about the weather. I killed my drink in one long swallow and made my exit.

He tapped on my door right after breakfast. I was packing up my shit, what there was of it. I was wearing cut-off shorts and a black tank top.

“So are you going to suck my dick today, or what?”

“Yeah” I said.

That stopped him short. “For real?” he asked.

“Yes, for real,” I said, not turning around, “Get your ass in here. Close the door.”

He stripped naked for me. Under his round belly, his dick stood straight out, parallel to the floor.

“Stand in front of the mirror,” I told him, licking my fingers seductively.

I knelt on the floor in front of him, his hard cock bobbing gently against my nose. I reached behind him, caressing, spreading his butt cheeks as I teased the shaft of his cock with my hot breath and the tip of my tongue. His dick seemed to swell and strain. Sweet clear pre-come leaked in a long strand out of his pee hole. I stuck out my tongue and caught it. His fingers petted my hair. I put one arm around his waist and sucked two fingers into my mouth, miming a blowjob. I glanced in the mirror at our image: we looked absolutely pornographic.

I took careful aim, and jammed one saliva-wet finger straight up his ass. He screamed like a little girl, his asshole clenching on my probing finger. He tried to pull away, but I held onto him with the arm around his middle.

His ass was impossibly tight. “Take it, Bitch,” I cooed. Ignoring his protests, I wormed another finger up alongside the first, molesting his panicked butt hole, stretching his virgin anus. Finally, both fingers were crammed up inside him, all the way to the knuckles. Even as he whimpered, I lowered my mouth onto his cock, swallowing him whole, sucking furiously like a Hoover gone mad.

He came almost at once, still howling and crying, humping my face as his asshole spasmed convulsively. He flooded my mouth with hot, slimy, salty semen, and I swallowed it all, every last drop. He was already growing hard again. I sucked with renewed vigor, wiggling the fingers up his butt like a maestro asking for a little more allegro from the violin section.

Later, when his penis was soft and tender-sore, and his balls were well and truly empty, we sat side by side on the edge of the bed.

“I wish you’d let me fuck you,” he said.

“I bet you do.”

“I think you’re beautiful,” he told me quietly.

That one took me by surprise. I felt myself blushing, and gave him a little squeeze.

“Thanks,” I said, “You’re going to be all right.”

*

The last I saw of the Wall Street family, they were driving away in a monstrous white SUV roughly the size and shape of a Spanish galleon. Mom and Dad sat in front, both of them talking intently into their cell phones. The kids slouched in the back seat; Olivia with her mass of blonde locks pressed against the window, headphones on, lost to the world, Oliver next to her. He saw me, and raised two fingers to his lips, forming a V, and waggled his tongue obscenely between them, the international symbol for eating pussy.

I grinned and gave him the finger.  Little shit. I wished him all the luck in the world.

END

5 Comments »

  1. I have read this once….and was enthralled from the start. I was wondering if it was a ‘real’ story or fiction…but guess it is fiction.
    I have to go back and read again and completely digest and enjoy.
    Another incredible piece of work Elise….always makes me want more!

    • elsiewrites said

      I’m glad to hear you enjoyed it! The story is, in fact, a complete and utter work of fiction.

  2. mattdyne said

    You are the cat’s meow. What a wonderful story. What wonderful writing. Fuck the little shit–you gave him more than he deserved, generous to a fault. I’m glad you didn’t fuck him–you left him something to aim for with someone else. But you were his first in the way that most counts–the first woman he had sex with even if not all the way.

    Of course he sassed you too–he wasn’t a complete loser–maybe not a loser at all. He’ll do alright. Too bad you didn’t fuck his sister. She could have used pubescence training as much as he. Oh well. Can’t win ’em all. Opportunity lost. Made the story better–more realistic.

    Magnificent writing. Great tale.

    Mmmm, mm
    Matt

  3. e said

    so awesome 🙂

  4. TGW said

    My favourite story of yours. I love this one. Fantastic!

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