Occurrence at Little Mey Lake

A few moments later, Joanne drew back from the long kiss and looking him in the eye, said "You can kiss them you know." Her hand guided his head to her breast and his mouth to its nipple. "Kiss it Ben...caress it with your tongue...yes...suck it into your mouth with your lips...gently... ohhhh..." Her hand began to stroke his cock up and down, sometimes pausing to caress its slippery tip with her thumb. He felt a volcano stir deep inside him.

Do it now, he said to himself. He continued playing with the breast and nipple with his mouth and tongue and slid his hand down over Joanne's stomach. He thought he might be stopped at any moment, but wasn't. He paused when he reached the top of her shorts but only for a second. In another moment, his palm rested on her pubic mound and his fingers explored between her legs through the thin cloth. Joanne spread her legs a little and murmured a soft mmmm sound. He took it as encouragement and looked for a way to open her shorts. She guided his hand to the side where he found a button, which he undid, and a zipper below it, which he pulled down. The volcano within grew stronger...time is running out. He slipped his fingers into Joanne's panties until he felt her pubic hair, paused for a second to run his fingers through it, then moved lower. The wavy hair gave way to rounded lips. As he stroked and explored them, one finger slipped into an opening. It was warm there...soft...and unlike anything he had ever--

Something burst without warning into his consciousness and he found himself standing under a shower in Minnesota, his erect penis in his hand. What the hell was that? There seemed to be a new sound, soft but real. He looked around and saw a glimmer of light seeping through the wall dividing his shower from the next one. He realized the sound was the shower running there, and the light was on.

"Fuck." He decided to remain still and wait until this interloper, who had disregarded his determination of when showers were to be used, was gone. It didn't take him long however, to realize that he should try and determine if the interloper was by chance a female. Leaving his shower running, he crept to the wall and found that the light was coming through a narrow opening between two of the vertical boards in the wall, visible only from the side, and extending from near the bottom upwards about two and a half feet, where it narrowed to a close. The board had warped and twisted over its long, moisture-sodden, steaming hot and frozen lifetime, creating the gap. He got down on his knees, bent his head down and looked through the opening as best he could.

But the angle was very bad; he could see two legs, but only from the thighs down. He couldn't tell if they belonged to a man or woman. He could see some soapy water running down the legs; the unknown persons was washing, maybe their hair. This is no good, he muttered to himself and got up to fetch his towel. He brought it to the opening and spread it out on the concrete floor. He carefully lay down on his stomach with his head as near to the floor as he could get it. He looked upward through the opening and his eyes landed on smooth rounded buttocks, a narrower waist above them, and a lower back. His heart leapt into his throat. That has to be a woman! Has to be! Then, as if he had willed it, the figure turned more toward him and he saw a triangle of black hair disappearing down between the legs.

Yeeeees!!! Oh God! Wow! He was transfixed...mesmerized. He had no sense how old she might be. Her body was not young and slender like the college girl he had watched that afternoon. Her legs were a little thicker in the thighs, there was a slight bulge to her stomach below the navel and some strange whitish horizontal lines below that. Her rear was rounded and attractive. Has to be one of the mothers, he thought, but couldn't hazard a guess which one she might be.

He lay perfectly still for the next fifteen minutes watching the unknown woman's washing ritual, the highlight of which was her washing between her legs. To him, the dark lining in this silver cloud of incredible happenstance was the disappointment of not seeing her breasts.

As he walked back to the cabin, having left Joanne sitting alone and bewildered on her sofa in Dubuque, Ben having told the Milkman about the woman in the next shower, he realized how sore the back of his neck had become, unhappy with the angle it had been forced to hold for so long.

As he lay in his bed that night, he made a plan to improve the situation, not only to make his neck happier, but to increase his viewing pleasure.

Day Four

Ben got up early the next morning before anyone else in the cabin was awake. He dressed quickly and found the keys to the car. Opening the trunk, he took out his father's tool box and headed for the shower building.

Once in the shower enclosure, he turned on his flashlight and examined the opening. The partition boards were nailed to horizontal two-by-fours at both the top and bottom, and the opening was caused by the twisting of one board at the bottom. He stood back and tried to think of a way to enlarge the opening. Eventually an idea occurred to him and he went to work.

Fifteen minutes later he stood back and admired his handiwork. He had removed the bottom nails and the one on the left at the top. He could swivel the board to the right around the top nail, widening the gap. To close the opening, he could swivel the board back and reinsert the bottom nails. Perfect, he thought, but I'll need to get a rock or something to hold the board while it's swiveled.

He remembered that he had only noticed the opening after the woman turned the light on in her enclosure. That could work both ways he realized, so he went into the adjacent enclosure and found that he couldn't see any evidence of the opening. There would be little or no chance of being detected, he happily concluded, if I keep my light off.

Ben was immensely satisfied with himself. He put everything back in place, packed up the tool box and left. And the old man says I don't even know which end of a hammer to use!

Ben spent the rest of the morning loitering around the camp ground, trying to guess which of the women staying at the resort was the one in the shower. He was able to eliminate the college girl and her mother but was stymied after that. It could have been any of the other three or someone he hadn't seen yet. He eventually gave up and picked the one he liked best, a woman younger than his mother, probably in her early thirties, with short, somewhat unruly blonde hair framing her face, and an infectious smile. Her clothes, baggy shorts and a loose blouse, gave him few clues about what her body might look like without them.

He could hardly wait for shower time to come. He was so keyed up and excited that he barely ate any lunch. "What's wrong, Ben," asked his mother.

"Nothing, Mom...I just feel a little...weird."

"Weird? Why don't you go lie down for a while?"

"Nah...I'm okay. I'll be fine by dinner time, trust me, just fine."

* * * *

Three-thirty finally came and Ben hurried to the shower building. He wasn't sure what time she would come so he wanted to be early. He suppressed any thought that she might not show up at all. He kneeled before the board and removed the nails he had reinserted to keep the opening closed and slowly pushed the board to the right, creating the opening, then placed the rock he had brought against the side of the board to keep it from swiveling back.

The minutes ticked by slowly but the adjoining shower remained vacant. A few minutes before four, he took his clothes off, and sat down on his towel in front of the opening and waited. Promptly at four the light came on in the enclosure and his heart leapt. In a few minutes he heard the shower running. He looked through the opening and saw the woman standing under the shower, nude. Alright! he gushed to himself. He had a partial front and side view of her but could only see as far up as her waist. Damn, he groused to himself. He couldn't see anything of her arms so he guessed she was washing her hair. Soon she turned to face the shower head and apparently bent forward to rinse her hair, bringing the side of a downward pointing breast into view. He couldn't quite see all of it, but it looked nice--round, not large, with its small nipple pointing toward the floor. He liked the curve of her ass as she bent forward.

Finally she straightened up. In a few moments, he saw soapy water begin to run down over her stomach. Soon her hand appeared holding a wash cloth and she began to wash her body. The washing progressed downward--stomach...lower abdomen...the mound covered by her public hair... back....thighs, lower legs, and feet.

She began to rinse herself, using her hand. Strangely, she had turned her body more toward him and he had nearly a straight-on view. He was puzzled though, she hadn't washed between her legs. Weird, he thought. But then she moved so the cascade of water was directed at her lower abdomen. She moved one leg to the side a bit, creating more room between her legs. He watched, mesmerized, as she used the flowing water and her hand to wash herself. He suddenly realized he had a straining, aching erection and he wrapped his hand around it...Hello Milkman, my old friend..."

She turned the water off and began to dry herself. He accelerated his stroking, afraid she was leaving. He desperately wanted to jerk off to the sight of her nakedness before she disappeared. She turned and hung the towel back on its peg, affording him a last great look at her ass.

But his hand suddenly froze in mid-stroke in shock and his erection wilted--she had turned and was walking directly toward him! He was overcome with fear and his heart raced as his body roared into a fight or flight response and started pumping adrenaline through him. GAWD!! Whatta I do? Whadda I do? But he was paralyzed as he watched his impending doom approach.

She stopped in front of the opening and he could only see her from the hips downward. He held his breath and waited. But she stayed motionless and said nothing. Seconds ticked by...

Then she moved a hand down to her pubic mound and began to rub it softly, moving her fingers in a slow circular motion. Time stopped for him, and the universe beyond the two of them ceased to exist. He watched as she opened her legs and extended her fingers down to the rounded lips between them. Nestled inside the outer lips were smaller ones, delicate and petal-like. Using four fingers, she began to lightly caress the lips with a circular motion.

Soon the speed and pressure of her fingers increased and he heard a soft "mmmm", causing him to resume stroking his erection. The circular movement of her hand stopped and using her two middle fingers, she began to caress herself where the inner lips came together at their upper ends, again with a circular motion. He saw the inner lips sometimes part slightly as fingers moved over them, revealing glimpses of a pink interior. For some reason, the sight of pink further enflamed him and he felt a volcano building in his loins. Not wanting the explosion yet, he slowed his stroking.

The circular motion of her fingers changed to an up-and-down one and then started alternating between that and side-to-side. There was more intensity to her efforts now and he saw her abdomen begin to make slight back and forth movements, as if to increase the intensity of the caresses. "Mmmmm." He heard again...then again.

His body, of its own volition, started to mirror her movements. The volcano grew stronger, his hand increased its speed and his hips begin to thrust back and forth. An "mmmm" of his own escaped his lips.

The thrusting of her abdomen suddenly became more intense and her soft moans were replaced by "ohh...ohh...ooh" gasps. Then her abdomen shuddered rapidly. "Ooooh... aaagh!... AAAAAGH!!!"

At this sound, his volcano erupted. His hips thrust back and forth wildly and he ejaculated with an explosion of semen that shot through the opening and hit her upper thigh, then another, and another. The intensity of the pleasure was unlike anything he had ever felt. He knelt there, his body and senses overcome, and watched as she reached down and touched the white mass on her thigh. She lifted her hand and rubbed her semen-coated finger tips together. The hand disappeared upward for a few seconds then returned to spread the semen on her thigh with a circular motion of her fingers, as if she found pleasure in it.

Her hands dropped to her sides and she remained motionless for thirty seconds or so. He remained motionless as well, wondering what was going to happen next. She then reached out and pointed her index finger first at him and then at the floor, moving it up and down two or three times for emphasis. Then she raised her palm to him and held it there for several seconds. The message was clear--Stay there until I'm gone.

She stood up and he watched as she walked to the shower, the rounded globes of her buttocks moving up and down with the motion. They were incomparably beautiful to him now. She turned the shower on and rinsed his semen away, dried herself, then walked toward the front of the enclosure, disappearing from his view. Soon the light went off and he heard the door close. Burning with curiosity, he considered whether to stay where he was or try following her. He quickly decided not to risk being caught disobeying her.

In a daze, he got up, and stood under the hot cascade of water from the shower. He repeatedly replayed what had just happened and a new jolt of pleasure rushed through him each time he did so. He did not want the memories to leave his mind. Eventually he turned the water off, dried himself and put his clothes on. Before leaving, he moved the board to its closed position and replaced the nails.

He spent the rest of the afternoon and all that evening sitting outside, watching all the women he saw, trying to guess which one was the mysterious woman in the shower, Mona Lisa, as he thought he might call her, in tribute to the ecstatic moaning and gasping that contributed so much to the intense pleasure of his volcanic eruption.

Day Five

Ben awoke early the next morning. The sun shone brilliantly through the window above his bed. He threw off the covers, swung his feet to the floor, and looked at his young sisters sleeping blissfully in the warm glow of the morning light. They look so innocent...and beautiful, came to his mind, surprising him. He found the sunlight beautiful too and it made everything it touched more beautiful as well.

He shook his head as if to clear it of the strange effects the morning light was having on him. But before he left the room, he stood by the twin's bed looking down at them, then lightly touched each of them on the cheek.

"We're going canoeing today," Edgar brusquely announced at breakfast. "We're going to paddle around the lake and see what's what." Everyone looked at him in surprise.

Now he wants to go? Today? For Christs Sake!

"None of you know how to paddle a canoe so I'm gonna have to teach you."

"Don't know how? Ben said sharply, "I spent five days paddling down the Wisconsin River last year. Don't you remember?"

"Yeah, but you probably forgot everything, dim as you are."

He stared at his father with a look of bafflement and irritation. "I don't remember you ever going canoeing."

"Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker! Stop your back talk and eat your god-damned breakfast. Dorothy, go pack us some lunch."

Edgar soon marched them down to the lake.

"Gather around," he ordered. "Does anyone know what this is?" he demanded, holding up a life-vest. No one said anything.

"I thought not. Put them on," he ordered, tossing life-vests to everyone. Ben watched with amusement as his father ignored his puzzled wife and the twins turning their jackets this way and that trying to figure them out. He snorted with suppressed laugher as he watched Edgar try to put his on inside out.

"Pssst...Anna, Barb, come here." He helped them to put theirs on correctly, checked the fit, and made sure they were securely fastened. He saw that his father had finally figured the tricky thing out but his mother was still helpless. As Ben helped her, Edgar picked up a paddle and waved it in the air.

"Anyone know what this is?" he bellowed.

"The paddle your mama spanked you with," Barb yelled then ducked behind Anna.

"That's why it's so worn out," yelled Anna and ducked behind Barb.

"It's a paddle, smart-alecs. Makes the canoe go."

"But how does it work, Daddy?"

"You stick it in the water and push on it," growled Edgar. "Now get in the canoe."

"I wanna go with Ben," protested Anna.

"No, I want to," shouted Barb.

"Stop it," barked Edgar, "one of you has to come with your mother and me. Pick one, Dorothy."

Ben listened to the ballyhoo this order caused and finally interrupted it. "Anna can come with me on the way over and Barb on the way back. That okay girls?"

"Okay," growled Edgar. "Dorothy, you and Barb put all that crap you're bringing into the canoe." As Dorothy and Barb dutifully complied, Ben watched as his father shoved his own cooler, which he figured contained at least nine or ten cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon, into the storage area at one end of the canoe.

"Now get in the canoe," commanded Edgar.

"Umm, Dad. Don't you think you should push the canoe into the water before they get in," Ben asked innocently. Edgar glared at him. "Get over here and help me."

When the canoe was in the water, parallel to the bank, as Edgar had insisted, he headed back to where Anna waited by the other canoe. As he walked, he turned back toward his father. "Make sure you point the canoe in the right direction before you get in. You don't want it going backwards."

"What?" hollered Edgar.

"Sit in the stern and face the bow," he shouted back, but couldn't resist adding "You know the difference, don't you?" He watched as his father walked back and forth examining both ends of the canoe. Edgar finally stopped and stood staring at it for a moment, then turned toward him.

"God-damn it, which end is it?"

Ben tried to hide his grin. "That one," he said, pointing at the end opposite from the one where his father had stashed his beer.

"God damn it," Edgar muttered as he retrieved his cooler from one end of the canoe and stowed it in the other end.

When this was done, he turned to his wife. "Dorothy and Barb, get in the canoe," he ordered. But they stood on the bank looking at him.

"We don't know how," Dorothy said, "You go first and we'll watch you.

Ben had been waiting for this moment with great anticipation. It was likely to be the highlight of the morning.

"God damn it," Edgar muttered. He took two steps to the canoe, the water nearly up to his knees. He leaned over and grabbed the other side of the canoe, the lake side, with his left hand, then lifted his left leg up and over the side into the canoe. Still holding the other side of the canoe, he leaned to his left, lifted his right leg and started to swing it up and over the side into the canoe.

The canoe rolled to the left, as Ben knew it would, and pitched his father into the lake.

"GOD DAMNED SON OF A BITCH...GOD DAMN IT!"

"You knew that was going to happen, didn't you?" Barb asked him. They both laughed.

Edgar waded back to shore and stood there glaring at the canoe. The family waited in silence.

"GOD DAMN IT! I'VE HAD IT WITH THIS BULLSHIT!" Edgar leaned into the canoe, grabbed his cooler and without a word, stormed off toward the cabin. Ben retrieved the canoe before it could float away, then looked at this mother. "Mom?"