Crossing The Lake

Their fingers met on the buttons of her old flannel shirt. She gave him the pleasure of opening them and moved her attention to stroking his back and butt, her short nails skimming over his flesh, raising goose bumps in their wake.

Once he'd finished unbuttoning her shirt, however, and his hands and lips began to explore her breasts, her concentration on caressing him went out the window. She arched her back as his hands and then his mouth found her ultra sensitive nipples. They hardened into firm, hot lumps of flesh that grew under his touch until, startled by their growth, he leaned back and marvelled at their length and hardness, swirling the tip of his tongue on their very tips.

Both of their hands struggled with her pants but, after she'd kicked the slacks across the room from the tip of her big toe, he had the glorious job of getting rid of her white cotton panties. He teased himself, as he drew them over her hips and down her legs. His eyes followed every crevice and curve that their lowering exposed: the dark red bush of soft hair on her mound; the way her thighs joined her body, leaving that space that highlighted her plump centre; her lovely long, slim legs that rippled under his touch.

He buried his face in her crotch, inhaling deeply, as her aroused aroma played havoc with his brain, sending every one of his senses into overdrive.

Her legs parted more and more, as his mouth and tongue pleasured her. Her torso writhed and squirmed as her inhibitions went out the front door; she gave herself to him, opened herself wide to his every touch. Her body tensed several times and, finally, her orgasm took over. He could feel her vagina clutch and squeeze his tongue inside her passage as the ripples of her pleasure rolled across her body.

After several minutes, during which he gently caressed her body and placed soft kisses on her slightly open pussy lips, she looked down at him, grabbed his ears and gently pulled.

"Get up here" she said "I want to feel that big thing inside me. Come on, Jimmy... come up here and fuck my brains out."

So he did.

Moments later he was between her legs, his hard cock pressed to her opening. With his hand he moved his dick up and down her slit, stopping to apply a little extra pressure to her clit. He watched her face as he probed between her pussy lips and slid his twitching cock through her slippery, wet slit, her swollen lips pressing the sides of his cock head.

She raised herself onto her elbows and watched, fascinated, as his swollen tool, glistening with her juices, played with her sensitive flesh. Each time his cock touched her clitoris, her head stretched back on her neck, her mouth opened and she let out a long, low groan. He did it over and over again, fascinated by his ability to cause her so much pleasure.

On one of his trips down that silky, wet groove, his cock moved forward enough to trap the head in her entrance. After that, it was game over. They both watched with mounting, well-vocalized pleasure as his hard cock disappeared into her hole. Slowly, ever so slowly, her cavity seemed to suck him into her, his cock splitting her lips as it made its gradual journey upward, into her body.

When a little more than half of him was buried in her hot, tight passage, she pressed her body forward, causing his tool to slide fully inside her.

Neither of them lasted long after that. Instinct took over his brain and he was suddenly aware of humping into her in complete abandon, their bodies making a wet, slapping sound as they met. She, in turn, had completely abandoned herself to instinct too and thrust her hips back at him with all her young strength.

Later he lay beside her, his lips at her ear, and told her of all the things they were going to do with one another in the days, and weeks, and months to come.

ooooooooooooooo

He had reached the shore just below the cabin and, although the moon was still shining above him, he could see the first glow of light rising in the east. Daybreak.

"Hey Janey!" he yelled loud as he could toward the cabin. "I'm home!! Better get that damned fireplace lit!"

Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Spread that old bear rug out too. Yer gonna need it t'lay on real soon...."

ooooooooooooooo

Part way up the path, he found he had to stop and catch his breath. He stood there panting, the mist of his breathing streaming away from him on the breeze. He became aware of how his head was pounding and still aching; the effects of being "buried alive" were still with him. Oxygen deprivation did funny things.

Gradually his strength returned, his head didn't ache quite so much, and he resumed his trek up the winding path.

Daylight was arriving quickly now. The southeastern sky was a rosy red, spreading out from behind the remains of the storm clouds still visible on the horizon. A chickadee flitted through the bush ahead of him, its call music to his ears. It was good to be alive.

As he climbed the last hundred feet or so of the drift-crossed path, he realized that he was shaking with cold. His body was chilled to the bone and he knew that only time and a warm place would restore it. His mind pictured the inside of the cabin, the fireplace burning softly, flames curling around the almost-burned-out logs. With daylight just beginning to penetrate the gloom, the fireplace would be providing a soft, dancing light of its own to the whole room. Janey would be a flickering outline of blankets on the bed and would probably sit up, quite startled, as he opened the inner door.

Long before his fuzzy mind could really register the fact, he passed the end of the path and came into the clearing. His eyes saw, without really seeing, the cabin and the tall dark-green evergreens that surrounded it's north side; he could only focus on the outer porch door, his eyes seeing the gleam of the thumb-catch against the weathered planks.

There was a small, two-foot drift on the stoop in front of the door, and his snowshoes bit into it before his mind registered that he was finally there. Stopping, he bent slowly, forced the rubber over his boots, and stepped out of the shoes. His hand found the door's thumb-catch and snapped it downward, releasing the bar on the inside, and his shoulder pressed the door open. Stepping carefully so as not to drag the drift into the porch, he entered the semi-light of the enclosure and, after re latching the door, was happy just to stand there in that windless dark place.

He jumped a little with surprise at a sudden bright light. The inner door had opened on the sight of Janey, lantern in one hand, the other holding the door edge, his old parka over her shoulders and her lovely red hair glimmering in the lantern light. With her t-shirt, sleeping wear and her lovely slim legs showing between the open parka flaps, and with his heavy grey-wool socks on her feet, she made a mighty pretty picture. Behind her the fireplace roared with the new logs she'd put there, and the glorious warmth of the cabin washed over him.

"Oh, Jimmy," she said, her face showing her concern, her eyes taking in the pallor of his face and the snow hanging in his eyebrows.

"Heard you call from the lake," she added, smiling a shy sort of grin, her eyes twinkling in the lantern flame.

He stood, swaying a little, and just looked at her, framed in the doorway, with a small grin on his lips; he'd noticed she'd taken time to roll out the bear-fur rug, right there in front of the hearth.

"Come on." She motioned him inside. "Never mind the snow. It'll melt. God, I've been worried about you. Get in here! Let's get you warmed up!"

"It's great to be home," he thought, as he stepped through the door.

-The End