Take Me to the River

As the kisses grew more intense his mouth opened against mine. Again I was surprised—by the wetness and heat—but surprise quickly turned to arousal and I opened my own mouth, letting our tongues meet for one brief, electric second.

His hand moved behind me at the same time he slid from the rock and faced me. He lifted me from the rock shelf and pulled me toward him, bringing both of us lower until the water reached our shoulders. We balanced on deeper rocks and kissed some more in the cool cocoon of the pond.

I felt a gentle tug at my neck and then the light pressure of the tie that held my top in place lessened. The straps went slack and Paul brought his hand from behind me, the end of the tie still between his fingers. My heart beat in panic as he drew the tie toward him and then down, lower until his hand was below the surface of the water, lower still until I felt the fabric sliding down my breast. In a panic I grabbed his arm and he stopped. I felt him look at me. I couldn't meet his eyes, couldn't tear mine away from the scene beneath the water's surface—his body so close, my breast nearly revealed. I loosened my grip on his arm and he continued to move his hand lower.

I held my breath as the blue of my swimsuit was drawn away from my breast, first one then the other, and though I'd been submerged for a while, the water felt cool on my newly bared skin. My hair moved in the water, undulating gently like an anemone, creating a fine curtain of copper red above my breasts.

"Your skin is so pale and perfect," he said as he ran his hand along my side, inching toward my breasts. He covered one completely with his hand, letting his fingers relax until they cupped my flesh. I stared at his hand, his skin looked so dark against mine, his hand looked so big. He spread his fingers like a starfish and began to flex them, kneading my breast. I squirmed, gripping his arm tight again, and made a noise that caused him to look at me with concern.

"Are you alright?" His voice was gentle. "You're holding your breath."

I exhaled, but held the next sudden breath as he lifted his hand. The cool water shocked me again and I watched with fascinated apprehension as he ran a finger over my nipple experimentally, tracing along the edge where the white of my skin met the dark pink of my nipple. I squirmed again and let out a whimper.

"You're so sensitive." His finger still circled my nipple teasingly and I felt the heat between my legs, building with an intense ache. He circled again and brought his fingertip directly to my nipple, rolling it slowly. I cried out.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No," I managed to say as I let out a strained breath.

He didn't stop. Instead he brought his other hand up and was soon rolling both nipples beneath his palms. As he did, his movements stirred the water and the current that followed his hands was like another, softer touch, a ghost of a touch spreading out over my skin with light, teasing fingers.

The pleasure was acute and on the verge of being too much when he finally pulled his hands away, running them down my sides and over my hips. He kissed me once more and his hands moved over my ass, his fingers spreading out and grasping me firmly, pulling me tight against him. I felt the hardness of his erection between us as he pressed me close. It was dizzying, just the thought of it.

"Put your arms around my neck," he said. "I'm going to lift you up."

I did as he asked and his hands moved lower on my ass. "Wrap your legs around me."

As soon as I lifted my feet from the rock we were balanced on, he boosted me, his hands running along my thighs. "Wrap them tight."

I couldn't believe this was happening. I couldn't believe it was real, it was me with my legs spread and my breasts bared. I hooked my ankles behind Paul's waist and felt his hard penis touching me, pressing against the fabric of my swimsuit and my swollen labia beneath.

He took a step forward, toward the shore, and I hung on, delighted by the solidity and warmth of his body against mine. He walked slowly, stopping to press a kiss on my mouth once, gradually bringing us out of the water. As the weightlessness of being submerged decreased, my body sat against his with more weight, pressing the sensitive and increasingly swollen outer lips of my vulva against his penis. The slight rise and fall of his hips as he moved applied a light friction that made me buzz inside.

When the water was to his knees he stopped and gently eased my legs from around his waist. I stood, a little uneasily, and he undid the tie at the front of his swim trunks. He pushed them low on his hips and I drew a sharp breath as he took his erect penis in his hand. Time seemed to slow for just a moment as my brain scrambled to catch up with the thousand panicked thoughts I was having. I stared, frozen, barely feeling the water dripping from my hair and running down my back, barely hearing the bubble of the river as it moved over the rocks.

The only sexual knowledge I had was gathered from looking at porn online, or from friends who were sexually active. I had no personal frame of reference, no past experiences to compare to this; he looked huge to me, but I really didn't know.

I watched his hand move, and with equal parts fear and excitement, I reached out to touch him. He drew his hand away and very gently ran it up my arm. I shivered and closed my fingers around his cock. It was so hot, even after being in the water for so long, it was hot. And though it felt hard, the softness of his skin surprised me. I hadn't anticipated either of those details, but they thrilled me to my core.

I took a few seconds to study him, drawing my hand along the length, running my fingers over the blunt tip, tracing the profile of the head—the smooth curve that flared and then fell back where it met the shaft. I was fascinated. I ran my thumb along the underside of the head, wondering if this was the spot that was supposed to be most sensitive, and then trailed my fingers back down the shaft, closing my fingers around it again.

My shyness returned suddenly. I had Paul's cock in my hand and I wasn't sure what to do. I knew the mechanics of it, but what was the right thing to do first? What did he expect? Should I stroke it? Did he want me to suck it? And if so—either one—how fast? How hard?

He must have seen my nervous self doubt. He closed his hand over mine and squeezed it gently. He guided me, pulling my hand up, closing my fingers as we passed the widest point, then down until I felt the softness of his pubic hair on my skin. He drew our hands upward again, together, and I watched in wonder as the head of his penis disappeared inside my fist, then reappeared as Paul pressed our hands down again, applying light pressure as he did.

He guided my strokes a few more times and then drew his hand away, lifting it to take my chin and turn my face to his. He looked at me for a long second before he kissed me, his mouth opening over mine, his tongue slipping just between my lips until I gasped.

I'd stopped stroking when he kissed me and I felt his hand close over mine again.

"I'm sorry," I said automatically. "I'm not," I paused, hating to admit it, even though it was obvious. "I'm not very good at this, am I?"

He kissed me again, still guiding my hand.

"It's lovely, Elizabeth. Your hand is so soft, it feels great." He kissed me again, and with his lips still on mine, he said, "Don't worry so much. You're perfect."

He kissed me once more and moved his hand to my breast. I sighed, thrilled by his words and all the places where our bodies touched. I knew he was just being kind, that I wasn't good at what I was doing, but I tried to feel his reactions and respond—lengthening my strokes at times, moving faster or slower—and I was pleased when he finally groaned in pleasure.

His hand moved from my breast and slid directly between my legs. I jumped when he curled it to cup my sex in his palm. He groaned again, more softly and drew my hand away. He stepped so he was directly in front of me and hooked his fingers into the waistband of my swimsuit bottoms.

"I want to see you naked," he said suddenly. "You're so pretty, I want to see more." His voice was still soft, but excited. My heart jumped.

He bent his head and kissed my cheek, whispering then, his mouth moving close to my ear. "Will you let me, Elizabeth? Will you let me see everything?"

I stared, overwhelmed by the question, but I didn't stop him from lowering my swimsuit bottoms. He drew them to my mid thigh and we both looked down as he ran his hand directly over the wet patch of hair that concealed my most private place. His touch was light and he only made one pass before he bent, drawing my suit bottoms under the water and all the way to my ankles.

I stepped out, wobbling a little from excitement, and once he'd removed his own shorts, he tossed them both, dripping from their brief dunk in the water, onto the shore. They landed with a wet slap that was sudden and sharp in the relative quiet of our sheltered nook.

He stood and reached for my swimsuit top to pull it upward, up and over my head. He tossed that to the side too and pulled me close, our bodies bare, his erect cock pressing against my belly.

"God you're exciting. I love your flawless skin." He ran his hands over my back and placed light kisses along my cheek, moving gradually toward my mouth. "I love how pink it is, pink and clean and soft."

His mouth reached mine and he kissed me with passion. It was like every nerve in my entire body woke up, the pleasure was so intense. I kissed him back and I soon felt I couldn't get enough of him. I wanted more of his skin on mine, more of his tongue between my lips, more of his eager caresses, his hardness and hunger. I wanted more—everything and anything he wanted—and maybe more beyond that.

He slid his mouth from mine and pressed his face to my neck, kissing me there. His hands moved over my hips, keeping me close to him, pressed tight. He moved lower and stepped back so he could bend and kiss my breast, his hand coming up to lift the flesh to his mouth.

I made a noise before he even made contact—a sharp squeak that might have been an expression of excitement or fear, even I wasn't sure which. And when his mouth touched my nipple I groaned, letting out a held breath then drawing another quickly. His tongue darted out from between his lips, the same pink as my nipple, and he made a few slow passes starting just below my nipple and licking upward.

I was surprised when he knelt and settled himself in front of me on his knees, I wasn't sure if he wanted me to move too, or what he wanted me to do. I watched as he kissed his way down my stomach and ran his hands over my hips soothingly. I saw his back bend, and watched for a second as the beads of water still on his skin caught the light, making his back look like it was sprinkled with jewels. Then I felt his mouth moving lower still, placing light kisses all the way, lower and lower until his tongue was swirling in the pubic hair just above where my body split and true pleasure started.

I held my breath as he tilted his head, looking up at me. He held my gaze as he opened his mouth, extended his tongue, and ran it carefully and with excruciating slowness along the cleft where my outer lips met. It was the lightest touch, and it sent shiver after shiver up my spine as he licked up and down, barely grazing the skin.

As the pressure of his tongue against my labia increased, I knew what was about to happen, but I wasn't prepared for how it would feel. He eased his tongue forward, slipping it between my pussy lips, and resumed licking in long, slow movements, his tongue wide and relaxed. It was unlike any touch I'd ever felt, the pleasure was everywhere at once, like a patch of steadily building heat. I groaned and reached for his shoulder to steady myself as I swayed dizzily.

He brought a hand up and curved it around my hip, holding me steady. Then he pulled me closer, brought his free hand up, and used it to part my outer lips. I watched—we both watched—as the folds of my vagina spread, the flesh glistening pink and on obvious display in the bright sunlight.

"Pink and soft," he breathed, and his breath touched my open pussy, light and warm and fluttering. "God, you are perfect."

He brought his mouth close again and very carefully made a circle around my clitoris. He used a finger to draw the flesh away, isolating my clit, and brought his tongue back, this time circling closer. Another circle, and then his touch was direct and firm and I nearly bent double when a wave of pleasure swept through me. He did it again and again until I was nearly panting and then he drew back and stood.

He grabbed my hands and pulled me toward the deep water again, wrapping his arm around me once it was deep enough I couldn't touch the bottom. He put my arms around his neck and lifted me, wrapping my legs around his waist again. He sighed when our bodies met and kissed me, open mouthed and searching. I felt the hardness of his erection again, pressing against my flesh, but without the buffer of my suit bottom, his cock nestled right between my labia, skin on skin. He flexed his hips, pressing himself more firmly against me and moved me up and down slightly, rubbing our bodies together. I panicked for a second, afraid he was going to try to push himself inside me, and I squirmed to get my legs from his grasp.

"Wait!" My voice was sharp, full of fear. I pushed at him and he let me go, looking startled. I moved back a little, treading water, my heart being hard. "I'm not ready. . ."

He looked confused, but then his face changed to concern and he lifted his hands, like he was showing me he meant no harm.

"No, I wasn't going to," he said, swaying in the water. "I swear. I wouldn't, Elizabeth. I wouldn't."

His voice was soft and sorry and looking at him I knew he meant what he'd said, he hadn't been pressing his advantage, I had just panicked. I moved back toward him and he took me in his arms again but didn't lift me this time.

"You looked so scared," he said, pulling me tight. "I'm sorry."

We kissed and he slowly walked us back to the shallows, stopping when the water was at his waist.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I didn't mean to scare you, I really didn't." He stepped back a half step so our bodies no longer touched and took my face in his hands.

I looked down to see his cock was only half erect, and there was an undeniable something missing from his face—the lusty hunger that had played under the surface of his features all afternoon. He was backing away from me. Not literally, but everything about his body language said he was retreating.

"No," I said, "I know you didn't. I just panicked for a second, I don't know why."

"Because you're not ready," he said. He bent and kissed me and my arousal returned immediately, but then he let his hands fall and he straightened his back. "I'm sorry I scared you, I was too fast. I shouldn't even be doing this."

"No, it's OK," I said.

"It's not." He looked away, up toward the shore where he'd tossed our swim suits. "It's not OK."

"Why?" I felt panic of a different kind then. "Why not?"

"Jesus, Elizabeth, I'm 42 years old. And you're a—" He stopped and just looked at me, his face drawn.

The mood was flat, he didn't want me, but I still wanted him. I decided I had to do something, though it scared me so much my heart was practically in my mouth. I moved closer and put my hands on his hips and pressed our bodies close, the way he had earlier.

"Can't we pretend that didn't happen and start over?" I asked.

He laughed after a second, but he didn't take me in his arms or bend to kiss me the way I wanted him to. He didn't move away either.

"You're so exciting, Elizabeth. Really, you're fantastic, but I can't do this. I'm sorry."

I could see he meant it, he was sorry, but I didn't believe he wanted to stop, I didn't hear conviction in that statement. So I pushed my shy uncertainty to the side and acted, hoping I wasn't about to make a fool of myself.

I moved my hands, one up to his neck so I could pull him toward me for a kiss, the other between us in search of his softened erection. Our lips met and he didn't hesitate to kiss me back, but when my hand slid over his soft penis he drew back to look at me questioningly.

My boldness excited me and I felt myself blush, but I didn't move my hand away. Instead I ran it down between his legs until my fingers were able to curl around his scrotum. I took a few seconds to explore with my fingers, though I felt nervousness creeping back. I trailed my fingers up and put my hand on his penis, wrapping my fingers around it. It was so much smaller now, soft, and wrinkled with loose skin. I had no idea if touching him would be enough to get him hard, or if he was even still turned on by me, but I wanted to try.

I tugged at his neck again and he kissed me. I took his hand and slid it to my breast, closing his fingers around it to let him know what I wanted, to let him know he could have me. He groaned into my mouth and I realized his cock had already grown a little in my hand. I continued my gentle stroking and was thrilled to feel it lengthen and thicken, it gave me a chill of excitement to know I was having an affect on him.

We kissed and when he was fully erect and beginning to breathe more quickly he took my arms and put them around his neck. He held my gaze for a moment before he lifted me again.

"You're sure about this?" he asked softly.

Without hesitation I hung onto him and lifted my legs to wrap them around his waist. He sighed and supported my weight on his hands, taking a moment to shift so his cock was aligned with my vulva. I was still wet, not nearly as aroused as I had been, but it wasn't long before tension was building inside me again. He rocked against me while we kissed, growing more and more fevered as we did.

The way he was moving, Paul's cock was rubbing directly over my clit, pushing and sliding against it, my own fluids lubricating his strokes. I felt a mounting tightness inside and realized I was close to coming—so quickly, so soon.

Worry flooded my brain—was I supposed to wait? If I had an orgasm now would he be disappointed? Did I need to tell him? I wasn't sure what to do, and I was getting closer and closer with every movement of his hips.

Worry was overcome by pleasure as a subtle change in Paul's posture made my arousal swell. I couldn't resist the urge to move, to concentrate the pressure on my clit. I moaned and tightened my hold on his neck, my heart beating hard in my chest. Paul sensed or guessed what I was feeling and dropped his hands to my ass, pressing me even tighter against him.

"You're going to come," he said, his voice full of excitement.

"I am," I said, breathing fast. "Should I wait for you to—"

"God, no Elizabeth, come now, sweetheart, come."

"I am, I am," I said. And then, a bit unnecessarily because I was moaning and sighing and writhing with obvious bliss, I said, "Oh God, it feels so good."

I hung onto him and bit my lower lip, bracing myself. I was panting against his shoulder, my breasts crushed against his chest while we both continued to rock back and forth, faster and faster, the water slapping against us as we disturbed the surface with our efforts.

"So good. It feels so good!" I panted repeatedly. In some part of my brain the knowledge that I was about to have my very first orgasm with a man was asserting itself. The thought brought me right to the edge.

"I'm going to come, I'm going to come!" I gasped.

"Yes, yes," he gasped back. "Elizabeth—come."

I pressed my face against his neck, feeling the throb of his pulse against my skin, and nearly wailed as the ache intensified to a point of near agony. I heard Paul saying my name, I could hear the excitement in his voice, I heard my own whimpering, but it was all so far away. Then there was a hot moment of nothing—a pause that pressed against me hard, squeezing my lungs until I thought I'd never take another breath—and just when I thought I couldn't bear another second of it, the pressure spiked, making me cry out, and then it dropped and rose and dropped and rose again, pleasure tearing through me in violent waves.