Lake Siren

I swam past the revelry once, going beyond it a couple of hundred meters, and then on my way back I saw a guy flailing in the water about fifty meters from the party house's dock and an obviously drunk guy and even drunker girl on the dock yelling both at the flailing dude, and for help. I sprinted toward the guy in the water.

A flailing person is difficult to rescue without a flotation device -- which I did not have -- and can bring you down with them if you're not careful. This is especially true if the person you are trying to rescue is larger than you are. The young man trying to stay afloat looked to be significantly larger than I am.

I swam to the guy's back, lifted him under his arms, and pushed myself up so that he could feel his head above water. I used a little trick in calming him that had worked before when I had rescued two other people (a child and a woman), although they were not as large as this guy. I over and over sang as close to his right ear as I could:

"No need to move so restlessly,

Come with me, rest peacefully,

Listen to my siren's song,

Worry not for nothing's wrong."

I don't know if the song worked, but fortunately, if he was drunk at least he wasn't drunk enough to ignore me, and although he did thrash a while longer, he ultimately calmed down.

With my arms under his to hold his head above water as I continued to sing I slowly swam backwards, powered primarily with a side kick, and got him to where he could stand. A number of people from the party had arrived by then, and with me pushing and two guys on the dock pulling, we got him up the swim ladder at the dock. He collapsed, coughing, when he reached the dock.

I climbed up onto the dock and started administering CPR. Everyone seemed content to let me do whatever was necessary. After a few minutes, he was out of danger of dying, although not in good shape.

As I stood up I asked "Is there a sober person here who knows where this guy's clothes and wallet are?"

"I do," said a guy holding a beer -- he quickly dumped the beer when he saw me looking at it.

"What's his name?" I asked.

"Jim Jensen," came the reply from several people.

"And yours?" I inquired of the guy who said that he wasn't drunk.

"Ray Hopkins," he replied, "I'm the president of this motley crew."

"OK ," I continued, turning to the assembled crowd, "Jim needs to get to the hospital emergency room. While Ray goes to get Jim's clothes and wallet, two or more of you are going to help Jim to the street at the front of the house. I live a few doors down -- I'll get my car and drive him there. Got it?"

I got enthusiastic "yeses" from most of the crowd, and took off for home, trying to run on grass most of the way back given that I was barefooted. I put on a trench coat -- the quickest thing to cover up my bikini in a somewhat acceptable manner -- and sandals, got my purse and car keys, and drove to the party house. Jim had his pants, shirt, and flip flops on when I got there, and while Ray handed me Jim's wallet, two other guys helped him into the car.

"Put him in the back seat and buckle him in," I ordered.

"Do you want someone to come with you?" Ray asked, as all of the ten or so assembled males volunteered to do -- I thought that was a little strange.

"No thanks," I smiled, and then took off for Glens Falls Hospital.

The hospital was about a twenty minute drive, and Jim was coughing most of the time, but was doing OK considering that he had almost drowned. It had not escaped my notice during the rescue, CPR, and now viewing him in the rearview mirror, that Jim was a "hunk."

When we got to the hospital I pulled into the emergency room driveway, got out, and helped Jim out. I helped him check in -- fortunately he had insurance, and his health coverage card was in his wallet. Once he was checked in I parked the car and then sat in the waiting room.

Fortunately it was a quiet night in Glens Falls, and the emergency room was fully staffed, so within twenty minutes a doctor came out to see me.

"You're the one who brought Jim Jensen in; the one who saved him?" she asked.

"Sure am," I smiled.

"I really think that it's best if we keep him tonight for observation," she said.

"Whatever you think is best is fine with me," I replied.

"He's asked to see you before you leave."

"Lead the way."

Jim was laying on a gurney with his shirt off. When he saw me, he lit up. "Thanks for saving me...I don't even know your name," he gurgled between coughs.

"My name is Amy Bryant; and you're welcome. I'll send one of your frat brothers to pick you up tomorrow," I replied.

"Where do you live?" he coughed.

"18 Lake Parkway, just three doors down from your party house. Get well fast," I said as I squeezed his hand.

"One more thing, please, Amy -- cough, cough -- what were you singing to me when you rescued me? It was very calming."

"My perversion of a verse from Sara Singer's 'Siren's Song;' but fortunately for you I'm not a real siren -- or if I am, at least a good one."

"Thanks Siren," he chuckled; I smiled and I left.

I confirmed with the doctor that Jim was twenty one so he could handle all of the paperwork necessary by himself. As I said goodbye to the doctor she said "Do you want me to look at your eye while you're here?"

"What?" was my intelligent reply.

"You don't know that you have a black eye?" she asked.

"No...I didn't," I responded.

She led me by the hand to a mirror above a sink. "See," she said, pointing to the mirror.

I did have a shiner -- it wasn't a bad one, and the adrenaline from the rescue must have masked the pain, but once I saw it I did notice some ache at that area.

"I must have gotten it when I rescued Jim," I mumbled.

"It'll just take a second," the doctor said, and then moved her fingers over my left eye area, and then told me to move my eyeball around as she looked into all areas of my eye with an otoscope.

After her examination she announced "No real problem; certainly no damage to the eye. You'll need to use some makeup for a few days, but that's all."

"Great, Doc," I smiled. "Thanks."

****************

On my way home I stopped by the party house -- I was well received by everyone, all of whom wanted to know how Jim was. I told them that he'd be OK, but that someone needed to pick him up tomorrow. Ray volunteered. I gave him the hospital's card. I was offered any drink of my choice to stay and party, but I politely declined, went home, inspected my eye again, took a shower, and then fell into a deep sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

My eye was looking better the next morning. After breakfast I went for a kayak ride, including past the party house which was eerily quiet. After the kayak ride, I was having a normal day at Lake George -- which would be a fantastic day anywhere else -- when there was a knock at the front door. I opened it to see Jim Jensen standing there with a dozen roses in his hands. He looked good, as in "sexy" -- and I chastised myself for thinking that.

"Hi Siren Amy; remember me?" he said/asked with a sheepish look on his face.

"Yes," I laughed; "Hi, Jim. You look much better than yesterday."

"Thanks to you, otherwise I might be dead; and I wanted to give you these flowers as a partial thank you, and to explain that I'm not really a drunken risk-taker; if you have a few minutes," he continued.

"Please -- come in," I said, just noticing for the first time that while he had a collared shirt, decent shorts, and cross-training shoes on, I had on only a flimsy cover-up over my bikini, and flip flops. "Oh well, too embarrassing to change now," I mumbled to myself.

Jim followed me into the kitchen where he cut the stems of the roses, and I arranged them in a vase, as we chatted and I appropriately "oohed" and "aahed" about how nice they looked. I offered him a beer -- which he declined, fortunate because it wasn't until after I offered it that I realized that I didn't have any -- but we both got a glass of lemonade.

"Did I do that to your eye?" he asked, while gently placing his hand on the black spot under my eye.

"I was lucky to get away with just that," I uncomfortably chuckled. "You were really flailing around, and you're a strong guy."

He apologized profusely, but I told him to stop; that it was no big deal.

After some small talk he clearly wanted to get something off his chest. "Amy, I want you to know that I don't normally drink much and that I don't do risky things like trying to swim at night when surrounded by drunken people. They were serving a punch Monday night that I didn't know had grain alcohol in it, and before I realized it I was feeling no pain. Then when challenged to swim out to the rock about 100 meters off shore -- despite the fact that I'm a very poor swimmer -- I took up the challenge. I would have drown if not for you because the drunks on shore sure wouldn't have been able to help."

"I was really happy to be able to," I smiled.

"What I can't figure out is how someone your size could rescue someone my size when I was flailing around?" Jim asked. Jim is about four inches (10 cm) taller that I am and very muscular -- likely 220 pounds (100 kg) of muscle.

"Well, I've been swimming all my life, I have a Red Cross Life Saving Certification and an EMT-Basic Certification. So I guess it was your lucky day to run into me," I chuckled.

"Plus, you're a good Siren too," he replied with a diabolical smile.

It was then that I realized that he was an even better looking version of my husband (maybe soon-to-be-ex) Brett when he was that age. At six feet one inch (185 cm) Jim was maybe an inch shorter than Brett, but had him by at least fifteen pounds (7 kg) of muscle, and had a really endearing smile. I felt a twinge in my nether regions.

After some more chit-chat Jim said "I have only four more days at the Lake, then I have to go back to my summer job in Albany -- and I was wondering if you might give me a swimming lesson or two especially in case I ever run into a bad Siren -- and maybe let me take you out to dinner for a better thank you."

"Why not," I chortled. "Maybe you and some of your friends would like to water ski too or at least take a boat ride."

"Would you really be that great?" he smiled.

The rest of the week it was like I was back in college again. Unbelievably, Jim's fraternity brothers and their female visitors didn't treat me like a 47 year old -- they treated me like a peer, except that I did notice that they made a concerted effort to clean up their language around me. I took them water skiing (or taught three of them how to, including Jim) and on boat rides, gave Jim two private swimming lessons, had some meals with them, and in general had a good time. It was great for my ego -- especially since I still was angry and hurt by Brett "discarding" me with his separation agreement -- when two of the twenty year old females independently told me "I wish that I could look like you ever, at any point in my life, let alone in my mid-thirties like you are."

I didn't correct "mid-thirties" to "forty seven;" rather I just thanked them for the compliment.

Jim had to go back to Albany on Sunday, and Saturday night was when he wanted to take me out for a "Thank You" dinner. I chose a restaurant in Lake George Village -- a truly honky-tonk place -- that I knew that he could afford, rather than the type of fancier restaurant that would suit my pocketbook and tastes.

At that point I really liked Jim. He was much more mature than his fraternity brothers -- or anyone else who was twenty one that I had ever met -- and was also very intelligent. He was an Engineering Physics major (I had never even heard of that course of study), one of only a handful of students at Dartmouth in that course of study, and although he would never admit it himself, according to what Ray Hopkins told me, Jim was an all-A student, and had been (until he gave it up at the beginning of the summer to concentrate more on his studies his senior year) a star lacrosse player even though his academic workload made it impossible for him to practice more than half of the time.

At dinner, I came to truly believe what my interactions with his friends already clued me into -- that Jim was someone who could keep confidences as well as any CIA agent. He was also an interesting conversationalist, very polite, and extremely well-mannered. After a pleasant dinner, we walked -- sometimes hand-in-hand -- all around Lake George Village, taking in the sounds, sights, and the clean fresh air blowing off the lake.

When we got back to my house, I asked him to come inside to help me with a small domestic problem -- a light fixture I had undone just in case I wanted this scenario to play out. After he fixed it I thanked him and he held my hands and said "I'm still a long way from paying you back for saving my life. If there's anything else I can do for you, you'll tell me, won't you?"

At this point I hadn't had any sex at all in months, hadn't had sex with anyone except Brett for more than twenty six years, and I was still hurting from my husband's surprise presentation of the separation agreement. Yet here was this completely gorgeous twenty one year old who seemed to be enthralled with my forty seven year old body, and on top of that he was someone that I was certain could keep confidences. So staring directly into his dancing blue eyes I responded "Do you eat pussy?"

A quizzical look passed his face for a few seconds; then with a sly smile he replied "I love to eat pussy -- Siren."

"Then, after a shower that's what I'd like you to do if you really are interested in 'paying me back,'" I snickered.

I took one of his hands and led him up the stairs to the master bedroom suite. I took him directly to the large bathroom and then quickly removed my clothes -- easy to do since I just had a sundress and panties on, having already kicked off my flip-flops downstairs. The look of excitement and expectation on his face was precious as he disrobed while I made sure that the shower temperature was to my liking.

He followed me into the shower, his thick cock standing proud and his low-hanging balls seemingly pulsating -- I'm sure that the latter was just my imagination. Once we got into the shower we kissed passionately as we ran our hands over the other's body. Once -- with Jim's enthusiastic help -- I was sure that my cooch was nice and clean, I turned off the water, we dried each other off while swapping spit, and then headed toward my bed. I literally jumped on the bed, scooted up to near the headboard, and spread my thighs wide while giving Jim a "come-hither" look.

Only seconds later his smile of anticipation disappeared as he thrust his entire face into my crotch. While his nose, tongue, and lips abused my poor little -- but quickly expanding -- clitoris, his fingers pinched my labia, slid over my ass, and/or penetrated my pussy on a mission to find my G-spot.

I came fast, and with the roar of a thunderstorm. He didn't miss a beat as I peaked and then came down a first time, then a second time, and then a third time. By then my circuits were fried, and I was little more than a puddle of happy protoplasm, my spine seemingly having been removed.

When he finally interrupted his onslaught I could tell by looking at his eyes and throbbing cock that he badly needed relief. "Please have a rubber," I groaned several times in succession. He jumped off the bed, went over to his pants, emerged with a packet (even in my altered state I noticed "Trojan Magnum XL" on it), ripped it open, and quickly slid the condom that it contained onto his cock. Looking at his cock I wasn't completely sure that I could accommodate its girth, but I sure was anxious to try.

He buried his latex-covered dick in one powerful stroke, precipitating a groan from me as loud as that from a pen full of hogs. After wiggling around a little while to make sure that I was accommodating him, Jim started pistoning like a Ferrari accelerating to 180 mph. I tightly clutched his hard body with both arms and wrapped my thighs around his burly torso and simply held on. He roared like a freight train when he came, and I could feel his cum filling the condom to almost bursting inside me. While I didn't have an actual orgasm, the feeling was eminently pleasurable for many reasons, not the least of which was that this marvelous hunk of man-meat obviously was entranced by my sexuality.

A few minutes after Jim finished cumming and groaning, he slowly rolled off me, a loud "pop" filling the room when his cock finished slipping out of my weeping cunt. Jim laid numerous kisses on me as he repeatedly hissed or moaned "you're a fucking goddess in addition to being a Siren;" nothing that he could have said could have been better for my separation-agreement-battered ego.

When he finally ceased kissing me and rubbing his hands all over my tits, he sheepishly said "I'm sorry that I acted like a gorilla, but that's the most energized I've ever been in my life."

"It was fun," I smiled. "I loved your enthusiasm. After you get STD tested and get an all-clear we're really going to enjoy each other," I grinned.

His return grin was even wider than mine. "I'll hold you to that," he fake snarled, then -- something I never had happen to me before after I'd just been fucked -- he enthusiastically dove back into my crotch and ate me to another rip-roaring orgasm.

We fell asleep in each other's arms. We woke up when it was still pitch black out, and I could tell from the moonlight streaming through the skylight in my bedroom that Jim's young, virile cock wanted some more action; but he didn't have another condom. As I kissed him and stroked his balls I mumbled "You can fuck me again, but don't you dare cum inside me until you get an STD all-clear. You can either spray my body or I'll suck you off once you're ready to ejaculate. Got it?"

"Fuck yeah," he groaned as he immediately placed his dickhead at the entrance to my wet vagina, and slowly buried himself.

I had two over-powering, debilitating orgasms before he was ready to erupt. He could have cum inside me and there would have been nothing that I could have done about it, but true to my wishes and his word once I sensed his balls palpitating he pulled out. I was too far gone to suck him off, so he came all over my East-West tits -- an entirely acceptable solution. Shortly afterwards his cum was being slathered onto both of our bodies as he pulled me on top of him, chest-to-chest, my distended nipples as hard as pencil erasers, and showered me with kisses until we both went comatose.

When we awoke the next morning I knew that I would be washing my cum and sweat soaked sheets later that day -- perhaps the most pleasurable domestic chore I had ever encountered. After we showered and he put on his shorts -- and I remained naked -- we made breakfast together.

After we devoured our breakfast like two ravenous tigers, he grabbed my hands and asked "Where do we go from here?"

"We both get STD tests before next weekend, and then you come to see me next Friday night or Saturday morning and we see how many quality fucks we can experience in a weekend," I said completely dead-pan. Then we both got diabolical grins on our faces, I giggled (the first time in decades) and he chortled.

***********

The answer was ten; that was the number of quality fucks from Friday night to Monday morning the next weekend. I know that I had at least two dozen orgasms -- probably more, I simply stopped trying to count -- and he made eight sperm deposits in my pussy, one in my throat, and one in my ass. I don't think that we'll do anal again; he was too girthy for it to be completely pleasurable for me.

I also found out that Jim loved the distended nipples on my East-West tits, and he kept them hard almost the entire weekend either sucking on or lightly twisting them.