The Boathouse (L)

Memorial Day weekend is always a busy time at the lake. It marks the unofficial start of summer and, by extension, boating season. Labor Day weekend does the opposite; Summer has unofficially come to an end, as has the boating season. Consequently, the weekend after Labor Day is our go-to weekend. With school back in session, the lake is all but deserted, and the water remains quite warm.

This year’s annual trip to the Ozarks was no exception. Jenn and I looked forward to the quiet respite each year. We love the water, we enjoy boating, we adore our hosts, and we appreciate the chance to get away. But getting away tops the list. We always welcome time away from the busyness of the office, this weekend no less than any other.

We have two or three vacations a year, and we manage to mix in a few weekend jaunts as well, but this was the coveted lake weekend. We occasionally travel with other couples, but always have our own accommodations. In contrast, Lake Weekend means sharing a small two bedroom-one bath lakefront house with paper-thin walls. Tiny houses with thin walls do not provide a “hotel sex” type environment, so we have learned to improvise.

We arrived around noon on Friday, and after unpacking the SUV, Sam and I went to buy fuel for the boat and Jet Ski. Jennifer and Robyn stayed behind to prepare a light lunch before an afternoon of boating and beers.

We returned from getting gas for the boat, and the gals had lunch ready and a cooler packed for the boat ride. They had also put their swimsuits on. We ate, then gathered everything in our arms for the trek to the dock. The boat dock is about fifty yards down the hill from the house, but we managed to carry everything in one trip, which expedited our departure.

It was the moment I look forward to all year—casting off and backing out of the dock. To quote the Little River Band, “I was born under the sign of water, and it’s there that I feel my best.” I love all things water: boating, swimming, and waterfront dining. The cove was like glass, and as we slowly headed towards the main channel, I found myself staring at my wife’s ass. When we entered the choppy water of the channel, the boat started rising and falling with each wave. I imagined Jenn’s fine ass doing the same as she rode me reverse cowgirl. Beginning to get an erection, I quickly realized such thoughts were inappropriate in mixed company, so I did the only thing I could—I jumped out of the boat, taking my periscope underwater.

Sam circled back to pick me up, and once onboard, I quickly fabricated a story explaining my sudden urge to get wet. They all seemed to buy it, so I grabbed a beer from the cooler and thought about the beautiful day and my love of the water—anything but sex. We anchored in a quiet cove and had our lunch, followed by a brief time of swimming. Jennifer was more interested in getting some sun, so she stretched out on the sundeck to take a nap.

I was into my fourth beer of the afternoon when I found myself staring at Jenn’s ass again. The alcohol enhanced the viewing, and soon I experienced periscope problems again; time for another swim. Jennifer also jumped in to cool off but climbed out of the water as quickly as she had gotten in, still more interested in sun than water. When I got back into the boat, Jennifer had rolled over and was now lying on her back, concealing her fine ass.

“This is a good thing,” I thought. “Out of sight, out of mind.” A few minutes later I got up to get another beer and couldn’t help but notice that her wet swimsuit had settled between the folds of her vagina. Now a well-defined camel toe is just as enticing to me as protruding nipples, and I was blessed to have a wife who excelled in both areas. God, she was hot; I had to have some of that!

It was approaching six o’clock, so we decide to head back. Securely back in the dock, we gathered the cooler, towels, and life jackets, and disembarked. Sam and Robyn were going to fix dinner that night, so I suggested they head on up to the house, and Jenn and I would secure the boat and hang the life jackets in the boathouse. The boathouse is really more of a small shed where the life jackets, noodles, and fishing poles are stored, but for lack of a better name, Jenn and I called it the boathouse. There’s only room for one person in the shed, so Jennifer hung up the life jackets as I handed them to her from the doorway.

One of the jackets fell off its hook, and Jenn bent down to pick it up. That’s when the trouble started. Once again, her fine ass was staring me in the eyes, and when she stood up, I embraced her from the back and started nibbling on her neck. She pushed her ass against me, tilting her neck to give me a better angle. I slid my left hand into her swimsuit top and began to fondle her breast, immediately noticing that her nipple was as hard as a rock. I reached my right around and began to caress her clit through her silky swimsuit, and she began to moan.

As her moaning increased, I slipped my hand under the suit and stroked her clit directly. Responding to her sounds, I increased the speed and pressure of the rubbing. Suddenly, she shook violently and, with a muffled scream, had an intense orgasm. I slid two fingers in and out of her wet pussy as she pushed back against me, writhing in ecstasy. She then pulled her swimsuit bottom down and bent over, bracing herself on the shelf as I entered her from the rear.

Her hot pussy welcomed me as I slowly began to thrust. Her moans cued me to give it to her harder and harder. Her head started banging against the wall, but the life jackets did their job and cushioned the blows. The copious amount of beer that I had consumed seemed to delay my orgasm for what felt like an eternity. Finally, with a muffled scream, I came too—harder than I had in years. We gathered ourselves and, with weak knees and wobbly legs, made our way up to the house.

Sam and Robyn were none the wiser since they were busy showering and changing clothes; we quickly slid into our bedroom, hoping they wouldn’t notice our “just fucked” look. We quickly showered and got dressed, then went to the kitchen to help prepare dinner.

After the meal, we decided to play a game, and Jenn thought that called for her famous martinis. Two martinis later, Robyn, usually more of a beer drinker, was becoming quite tipsy. She excused herself from the table, saying it had been a long day, and she was tired. It was after ten, so it seemed a good time to call it a night. But Jennifer had other plans.

I got in bed while Jenn went into the bathroom to do her nightly brushing, flossing, and contact removal. When she returned fifteen minutes later, I had all but dozed off and was anxious to get to sleep. Jennifer slid into bed, gave me a peck on the cheek, and said good night. But just as I was dozing off, I realized that she had ducked under the sheet and was removing my penis from my shorts. She proceeded to give me an incredible blow job with sensations I had never felt before. It didn’t take long before I was once again stifling my scream as I came and came some more. After she had fully drained my cock, swallowing every drop, she emerged from under the sheets. Not saying a word, she rolled over and went to sleep.

In the morning, I had to ask her what I had done to deserve such a treat and why it had seemed so incredibly different. She simply said that it was a thank you for a lovely day, and then she smiled, revealing her whitening trays. The smooth texture of the trays simulated what I can only imagine it would be like to get head from a toothless woman. I started fantasizing about her being old with dentures—up periscope.

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