Audrey Makes Herself Wet

She had to get away. Audrey's family was driving her absolutely crazy. As soon as they arrived back from the restaurant, she made a bee-line for the dock. Though they had loitered at breakfast for nearly two hours, the afternoon heat had not yet set in and she wanted to get out on the water as quickly as she could.

Not bothering to change out of her "breakfast out" outfit, Audrey grabbed a canoe paddle, pushed the canoe into the warm water, took off her shoes, waded in and pushed her boat and herself away from the shore, away from the cottage, and out onto the open lake.

She stroked powerfully, pushing the paddle deep into the water and pulling herself forward through it. Soon sweat beaded on her forehead. She began to breathe hard. It felt good to rinse the stagnant cling of air-conditioned air off her body with her own perspiration.

She and her family were leaving that evening. This would be her last time out on the water and Audrey wanted to make the best of it.

God, she wanted to stay out there forever -- she hated the prospect of canoeing back to the rental cottage, back to her clueless parents and younger boneheaded brother.

What a boring, completely nondescript week. She had turned 18 yet it was like she had turned 10. Her birthday was supposed to mark her becoming a woman. Instead, Audrey's parents treated her as the kid she had always been. It was supposed to be a day that she'd never want to forget. Instead, it was a day she'd never want to remember.

She let the canoe drift. But for the water lapping up against the aluminum hull and the sea gulls calling to each other overhead, there were no other sounds. The waves gently rolled the boat with the quiet current. It was peaceful, quite, and tranquil.

She set two life preservers against the back rise of the canoe, lay back, and let the canoe rock her back and forth. The hot sun warmed her body. She pulled up her shirt to let the shine on her belly and pulled up her skirt to expose her thighs. The sun worked its magic, and soon she was asleep.

She was jolted from her sleep by a loud metallic bang against the side of the canoe. Initially startled, she was relieved to look over the side to see that the canoe had merely hit a buoy. The buoy marked a crab pot -- she had seen the watermen pull it up and dump their cache of crabs the week before.

She had always been curious about how such contraptions worked. Should she pull it up? She looked around -- the waters were still and quiet. It was Sunday and the watermen would not be coming around.

She pulled the buoy behind her in the canoe and began to pull on the line that led into the deep water. Hand over hand she pulled on the line. The crab pot was deep in the water and the line to it was long. Though it had knots tied into it to serve as hand holds for those pulling it in, soft, delicate, slippery, green seaweed grew on it making it difficult to get a sturdy hold.

She straddled the line and pulled it underneath her. She braced herself in the canoe to better pull on it. As she moved her leg out for a better stance, she accidentally kicked the paddle overboard.

Without thinking she sat down on and clamped her legs around the slippery wet buoy line to prevent the pot from falling back down to the bottom and leaned over and scooped the paddle back into the canoe.

The tension from the heavy pot pulled the wet, soft, slippery rope all the way up her thighs and passed gently yet quickly over her crotch. She was pleasantly shocked by the delightful sensation the rope caused as it passed slowly and wetly under her. She laughed out loud. God she felt silly. She sighed, stood and began to pull the line in again.

Slowly the crab pot came into view. She pulled it alongside the canoe. It seemed heavier near the surface. She was sweating profusely now -- her shirt damp with perspiration. The crabs inside became frantic as she exposed them to the outside air.

The pot was certainly an interesting contraption. She followed the route the crabs were lured through by the fish bait. She could see that once the crabs passed a certain point on that path, there was no going back -- no escape.

She watched the crabs for several minutes -- watched them as they snapped at the sun. She felt sorry for them. As she saw it, they had three things in their future: the darkness of the crab pot, boiling water, and Old Bay seasoning. And she thought her life was pathetic!

Audrey looked around. There was still no sign of anyone on the open water. She reached down and unlatched the door to the pot. She lowered the pot back into the water and watched with satisfaction as the crabs swam out of the crab trap. Reaching down to scoot the remaining meanderers, she nearly toppled out of the boat. She sat back down -- directly on the long line.

She was exhausted. There had been far more line to pull in than she thought. As the canoe rocked back and forth, the line tugged as the pot sought to settle back to the bottom. The wet line, now warmed by the sun, slid under her ass. She looked behind her to see if it had gotten tangled and picked up the line. The canoe rocked again, and more of the wet, warm line slid beneath her, this time passing near her anus.

Impulsively, she shifted the position of the line behind her so that when the line was tugged next time, it would slide directly over her anus. The canoe rocked. The line tugged and, guided by her hand, the line slid under her and passed over her asshole. She sighed as the warm, wet, slick, and soft rope rubbed her as it passed. "Damn" she uttered. She looked around, self-consciously.

The lake was quiet. No one was in sight. She looked at the rope coming between her legs. She smiled to herself. The line slid under her again. "Fuck" she whispered.

Looking down, she spread her legs. The rope had wet her underwear. The rope pulled again. She watched as it slid past her crotch. Reaching down, she pulled the elastic of her underwear aside and exposed her hairy pussy so that it rubbed against the rope. The rope pulled and slid again, yet, it halted when one of the knots came to rest in the space deep between her legs.

"Jesus" she whispered. Shifting slowly to one side and guiding the rope behind her with one hand and in front of her with the other, the knot passed beneath her spreading her pussy lips and gently touched her clit as it moved toward the water.

She groaned.

Meanwhile, the line started moving more quickly as the crab pot sank faster into the water. Guiding the line behind her and in front of her, she bent forward and spread her ass as far out as she could.

The warm, slick, wet line moved quickly yet gently over her anus. Pulled upwards by her other hand, the line passed through her pussy.

As each knot pulled through her and over her clit she let out a gasp. She rocked back and forth as the line gained speed. Soon, she felt herself pounding up and down on the line as it sped faster and faster beneath her.

Suddenly, the line went limp as the crab pot hit the bottom of the lake. She rocked back and forth and slammed herself down again and again on a stationary knot that had come to rest under her.

"Shit" she said in disappointment.

Looking around and checking quickly to be sure that no one else had appeared on the water, she pushed her fingers into her pussy and began to massage her clitoris.

The warm wetness now flowed out of her, not onto her. Her legs began to tremble beyond her control. Heat built in her body. Feeling her orgasm coming, she pushed the knot up into her pussy and drifted off as she convulsed again and again in ecstasy. As her orgasm took her, her pelvis pounded more and more deliberately down upon the rope as she pushed the knot deep and hard inside her.

Finally, exhausted, she released the rope. Pushed out by her pulsating vagina, the knot fell out onto the metallic floor with a thud. Panting to catch her breath, she leaned forward and placed her head between her legs.

After several minutes, she raised herself up. Looking to her side, she eyed the life preservers she had set up against the rise of the canoe. Collapsing against them, she lay back to let the hot sun bathe her body.

She reached down and slid her underwear, now caked with the soft, warm seaweed, over her thighs, down her shins and off her ankles. Looking down at her wet pussy, she spread her legs, unzipped her pussy lips with her fingers and exposed her pink dripping pussy to the warm drying sun. She drifted off to sleep again.

She awoke giggling. At first she thought she had been dreaming. Yet, feeling the dried stiff juices up and down her legs, she realized, much to her astonishment and amusement that she had not been dreaming.

She laughed out loud and held her stomach as she took in the audacity of what she had done. Shaking her head in pleasant bewilderment, she took the oar and started rowing again.

She had no particular destination. She rowed aimlessly -- smiling smugly to herself as she moved on the open water.

Rediscovering the benign curiosity of the previous week, she headed toward a shoreline that seemed particularly peaceful and beautiful.

The gravel ground against the canoe as she hit the shore. Pulling the boat onto the grass, she swung her bag over her shoulder and headed toward the pretty fields that attracted her attention from the water.

In an open field choked with delicate white wild flowers, she plopped herself down. Her cloths still wet, she spread herself out on the grass and flowers to absorb more of the sun's light and heat.

TO BE CONTINUED