A Morning on Island Pond

There were two kids sitting on his rock. Two kids with fishing poles had claimed his territory. That was bad. Fishing was illegal on the pond, so was swimming. Sunbathing would have been okay, with a bathing suit on, but most of the sunbathers slipped over into the illegal category. The fishers and the skinny dippers tolerated each other, but they kept their distance. Damn! He looked at them more closely. They were a lot younger than the typical fisherman, high school age, maybe early college, it was getting hard to tell. They were all starting to look young to him. He frowned. He really didn't have time to start scouting out another place to swim. In a few hours the family was off to Sesame Place. This was his last taste of freedom for a week or so.

He thought about his options. The boys had poles, but they looked more like props. They weren't doing any casting. They were just letting the lines sit in the water. There was no indication that they had a serious intention to harm a fish. They were both wearing bathing suits. In a way, that made it easier to approach them. He didn't think they'd spotted him as he'd run in naked from the road. He pulled his shorts back on and moved out closer to the shoreline. In the middle of the path to the rock, there was a little blue tent he hadn't noticed. Damn! They were campers! Camping wasn't legal either, but if the campers weren't naked themselves, they usually turned out to be crazy rednecks, like those bikers the week before. He started to slip away, but it was too late. They had seen him.

"Hi," one of them said. He sounded friendly enough.

"Hi." He looked them over cautiously. They seemed like normal kids, not too big, not aggressive. No beards, no tattoos, no beer bellies. Not at all like the bikers.

"How ya doing." The other boy was eyeing him with gratifying apprehension. Well, he was bigger than they were, a lot more muscular. He recalled with some amusement how the bikers had stayed a safe distance away from him, once they had gotten a good look at how he was built.

"Okay. How about you?"

"Not too bad, now that the sun is out."

"A lot of rain last night," he ventured.

"Tell me about it."

"As soon as we got here, it started to rain."

"Today is supposed to be okay. Maybe some showers late. Would you mind if I swam off the rock?"

"Why not? We're just here admiring the scenery."

"Over there," the other boy waved at a cliff across the cove. "They've been over there all morning." He was pointing out two girls, naked, draped across the boulders. One of them was throwing a ball into the water for a little dog to fetch. The dog came back, presented the ball, and then shook itself dry, provoking squeals as cold water splattered sun baked skin. It looked as if this process had been through a lot of iterations already. The other girl reached to take the ball. Even from a distance, you could see her trembling as their bodies touched.

"Look at that!" The first boy poked his friend. "You owe me five!"

"They haven't done it yet!"

"What's the bet?" he asked.

"Five if they kiss, ten if they eat pussy. Man, she fucking kissed her! You owe me five!"

"She didn't fucking kiss her! She touched her cheek!"

"And her pussy. She fucking touched her fucking pussy!"

"Her leg, she touched her leg. Anyway, that's not part of the bet. They can fucking finger fuck each other and it doesn't count."

"She just touched her boobs. She hugged her fucking boobs and she kissed her!"

"Boobs aren't part of the bet! She can suck her fucking nipples and it doesn't count!"

"She fucking kissed her!"

"On her cheek! She can't kiss her mouth if she's behind her like that!"

"Fuck you, fucking weasel!"

"Only if you suck my dick first. Gotta be mouth man! Lips on lips, one kind or the other."

"What if they just kind of grind their pussies together? That's lips on lips."

"Fuck you."

"Only if you eat me first."

"Shut the fuck up. They can hear what we're saying. They're fucking looking at us."

"Nice," he sighed. Just his luck, the one time something really interesting was happening, he didn't have time to enjoy it. On other days he certainly would have lingered to enjoy the show. Today, he was in too much of a hurry. He slipped off his shoes, his socks, then his shorts again. No gasps, no groans. The guys looked like they were okay with it, even though they both still had their suits on. They looked like they were hiding hardons, hopefully inspired by the girls and not by him.

"How far do you swim?" One of the boys was looking at him with a frank admiration that was a little disconcerting. He wondered, fleetingly, if their banter about blow jobs had been all in jest.

"Out around the second island. Want to come along?"

They shook their heads, and he slipped into the water and set off. Eighty strokes freestyle, eighty strokes backstroke, repeat. That gave him a nice even tan, it kept him from getting too tired. He would be swimming that way for about an hour. There was nothing more relaxing than clear calm water, blue sky, the warmth of the sun on the side that was facing up, the smooth power of his muscles as he moved without a ripple. One perfect stroke followed another, building speed until he was flying with an effortless grace. The pond had never been so smooth and calm, the water so clear it seemed like air. When he was on his stomach it seemed like he could touch the boulders below, thirty feet or more away. When he was on his back, he was staring up into a blue so deep it was almost purple.

His mind narrowed to the repeated tabulation of the strokes, the concentration on each one to make it perfect, to pull the water down from his head, to thrust it back behind him, to push out all the air in his lungs with each breath. Eighty on his stomach, eighty on his back. Eighty on his stomach, eighty on his back. He was more relaxed with each iteration. He wondered, dimly, how he was going to get through the next week. Vacation, he was on vacation, and that was supposed to be relaxing. But vacation meant sharing a motel room with two toddlers, it meant swimming squirrel cage laps in a tiny little motel pool, it meant furtive sex in the bathroom, his wife bent sullenly over the lavatory counter fretting that one of the children would awaken, or that he would fail to resist the temptation to go up her asshole. Vacation meant that he was going to have to wear a bathing suit, maybe even develop a tan line. Vacation was going to suck.

He'd had an unexpected reprieve this morning. His wife had decided at the last minute that the kids needed some more summer clothes and she needed a better bathing suit, and the three of them had gone off shopping. So he'd been able to slip off for one last solitary swim. He'd promised to be back before them. He was relishing every precious moment of freedom.

Eighty on his stomach, eighty on his back. The rhythm was lulling him to sleep. Nothing could have been more luxurious than the still, sweet water. It was strange to be out so early in the morning. Usually he stopped after work, an hour or so of freedom carved out of the daily schedule. The sun angle was completely different. The water still had a bit of chill to it. In the evening, everyone was leaving. Now, they were just starting to show up. It looked already like it was going to be a very interesting day at the pond, and he was going to miss it.

He started to daydream. What would he have done, if those bikers had actually gone through with their threats? A rock, maybe he would have thrown a rock at them. He had a very accurate arm -- he might have been lucky enough to score a hit. Of course, that might have just enraged them more. Maybe a big stick, use it to beat their stupid brains out? They'd been too drunk to put up much of a fight. He felt a sudden surge of blood lust, he started to stroke more violently. Then he laughed as the absurdity of it hit him.

In truth, he'd never been much of a fighter. There was that one time just before he got married, when he'd tripped that black kid running away with a stolen grocery bag. The old lady who owned the bag had been overjoyed, he'd felt like a hero. Then suddenly the kid was back, confronting him. He remembered being totally dumbfounded that the kid could be so far away from him, and still reach his nose with a jab. Once, twice -- and he had just stood there, in a daze. Dimly, he began to realize that the kid might have a knife, or a gun, that if he moved in to return the blows he might be getting into a lot of trouble. He'd thought about all the work they'd put into to getting the wedding set up, how a groom in the hospital or the morgue was going to really screw things up. While he'd been thinking about these things, belatedly, his nose had started to bleed from another impact. He'd finally worked up the awareness to move a bit further off, to block the next jab, and to tell the punk to get out before the cops arrived. And that had been the end of it.

The way he had handled the bikers, talking his way out of it, had probably been the best. Not heroic, not satisfying. He really would have liked to leave them dead or maimed. Too many hassles, though. Legal problems, maybe a trial, maybe even jail time. Not worth it.

Not worth it. That was the story of his life. He was going to look back on a lifetime of safe choices, good decisions, and boredom. He remembered how he'd envied that couple out on the island last week, the guy sitting there like a little god while his lady sucked him off for all to see. They'd known damn well they'd had an audience, and they'd played to it.

Gradually, the rage subsided. The little adrenaline rush worked itself off in a few hundred strokes, and left him if anything even more relaxed than before. Just as he was reaching a state of total, careless bliss, something bumped into him.

His first reaction was one of pure terror. Otter, beaver, snapping turtle -- he wasn't interested in tangling with any of them. Snake, bear, goose -- he turned, splashing water frantically at whatever it was that had attacked him, hoping to scare it off. What the hell was it? Something small, furry, with a strange yellow beak. He realized it was the little dog, with a very soggy tennis ball in its mouth.

"Terry, get over here! I am so sorry! Did he hurt you?"

He looked over to the source of the voice. It was one of the girls, floating on her back, her bare breasts jutting up like two little islands. The other girl was some distance behind, swimming hard but not too well, trying to catch up.

"Just startled."

They were close to the inner island. The first girl swam over to a rock and pulled herself out of the water. Her breasts were larger than he had realized, seeing them floating in the water. The rest of her was skinny. His wife had been skinny like that, a couple of babies ago. The dog scrambled up past her, and dropped the ball in front of her, on the slope. The girl bent over, reaching to retrieve it before it rolled into the pond, opening herself to his gaze. She missed, and the ball went floating towards him.

"Damn!" She didn't turn around, instead, she looked out from between her legs, to watch the ball floating away. "Terry, go get the fucking ball!" But Terry was already up on top of the rocks, barking down at her.

Gallantly, he swam over to retrieve the ball. He moved in close to her, treading water, and tossed it up. The second girl arrived. She was younger, chubbier, red frizzy hair, fair, freckled skin turning into one big sunburn. She was gasping for breath, looking up at the rocks as if she were confronting El Capitan. Gallantly, again, he helped her get up out of the water. It was only by accident that his arm was rubbing over her big soft breasts, or that his hand found purchase in the red curls between her legs as he was steadying her. She was too tired to notice, in any case. She sat on a rock, gasping, waiting to catch her breath before she attempted to climb up the little cliff that skirted the island.

"Need a hand?" He climbed up beside her, stood up, and helped her to her feet. Together, they scaled the ten feet or so of granite that led to the flat surface above. The first girl was already lying down, seemingly unconcerned about her companion. She was lying, disconcertingly, with her legs sprawled wide open to let the sunlight ravish her. Danae and the shower of gold. That was what it seemed like. She was offering herself to the sun.

It was time to go, past time to go. It was time for him to climb back down the rocks, slip back into the water, swim back to the boys, put his shorts and shoes back on, run back to his car, and drive back home. It was time to do those things, to make sure that he returned before his wife. That was the safe thing to do, the reasonable thing, the right thing. The thing he always did. It was not the right thing to be staring at some random girl's naked crotch, certainly not to say "hi." It was not the right thing to blush a bit as he felt her appraising him, as he saw himself, naked and perfect, reflected in her eyes. It certainly wasn't the right thing to start shivering from excitement or terror when she gave him a welcoming smile.

"Hi. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he said, but his teeth were chattering. "Got to go."

"You'd better warm up first." She motioned for him to sit down next to her. "You've got goose bumps."

"I'm sorry," he said, "I hope I'm not embarrassing you."

"Why would I be embarrassed?" Her hair had fallen down over her breasts, and she brushed it back over her shoulders to emphasize her nudity. He hadn't been paying much attention to those breasts, but now he saw that they were capped with little brown nipples. Little brown, erect nipples. He didn't have an erection himself, not exactly, but he wasn't shriveled up, either. Her face was attractive enough, not very feminine, all nose and chin and cheekbones, thin lips and deeply set gray-blue eyes. She looked like someone you would see hiking, climbing up the face of a cliff.

"I'm Tammy." She offered him a slender, strong hand. Short nails, he noticed, no nail polish. Her hair was drying enough to show that she was a blonde, at least the center of her was.

"Tom," he offered back, reluctantly. His cock was about a foot from her face as he leaned down to shake hands, and he still found it awkward to exchange names. He sat down next to her.

"This is Mandy." Tammy pointed to the other girl. Mandy was sitting to the side, almost in a daze. She was staring at Tom, actually at a certain part of Tom, then, when she realized he was looking at her, she blushed even redder, and turned her attention to the little dog. "Mandy is a hitchhiker." Tammy paused, her face broke into an unexpectedly broad smile. "And I picked her up!"

A hitchhiker? A runaway? No, she was too old for that. They had come here, early on a weekday morning? His head was spinning. Common sense assured him that he needed to get out now. But instead, he said "Hi, Mandy." He proffered a hand. She blushed even harder as she took it. Her hand was soft, her grip almost limp. She had long nails, painted black or very dark red, and cubby little toes to match. Not the outdoors type. Not the kind of girl you would expect to find naked on an island, a hundred yards or more away from her clothes. Tom had seen his cat tormenting a mouse once, toying with it before devouring it. Poor Mandy looked about as pitiful as that mouse, and Tammy, for that matter, as smugly self satisfied as the cat had been.

"You come up here a lot?" Tammy broke his reverie. "You have a really nice tan."

"All the time. How about you?" Her tan was not quite as perfect. The outline of a bathing suit was faintly visible.

"Some. When I can. You're a teacher?"

"Nope. Vacation this week."

"Oh." She was studying his hand, looking at the wedding ring. Her own fingers were devoid of ornamentation.

"I have to get back pretty soon," he added. "We're headed down to Sesame Place." There, that should end any hint of danger. He obviously had no intention of seducing her. He was a respectable married person, a family man, who just happened to be sitting next to her buck naked.

"Oh, I've been there," Mandy piped up. "It's really neat. They've got a water park there too. How old are you're kids?"

"Four and two."

"Well Tom," Tammy's eyes were dancing with merriment. "You really shouldn't be here, should you? Shouldn't you be home having quality time with your children?"

"I'm exercising. I run or swim or ski every day."

"Naked?"

"If possible."

"Even the skiing?"

"Sometimes."

"And do you often chat up naked women while you are," she gave a little eye roll, "exercising?"

"Sometimes." He paused, then added, "only the pretty ones." She gave a little smile of affirmation at his boldness.

He was discovering that sitting next to her was not the greatest. Yeah, he was right next to her, so close she was brushing him when she leaned over to talk to him. But he really couldn't see much except her boobs. He shifted, lying down to face her so that he had a nice view between her legs. If she realized what he was doing, it didn't seem to bother her. If anything, it gave her a better view of him. Poor Mandy was getting squeezed out of the picture, at least for the moment. She was sitting over on the side, petting the dog and staring at the two of them. Tom remembered the two boys taking bets, and he wondered if Mandy also was busy calculating the odds of which body parts might encounter each other. None, most likely. More than likely. Certainly. He was already too close to the edge. He wasn't going to let it go any further.

On the other hand, he wasn't leaving, either. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Tammy's groin. Not that it really looked too different from any other cunt he had ever seen. She was thin lipped there also, her pubic hair was wispy, barely visible. Her legs were pulled up enough that he could see her asshole, primly puckered. She saw how he was staring, and put a hand down to cover everything.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"What for?" The fingers in that hand plunged into her, spread open those thin outer lips. The hand went away, leaving pink flesh gaping in its wake. His lazy erection started to get a bit less lazy. She ignored it, lying on her back to stare up into the clear blue sky. She pulled her knees up and together, then she sighed and let them sprawl out to either side, opening herself up completely to him. It was too good to last for long. She straightened out her left leg, keeping the right knee up just enough to give a hint of her secret flesh.

The dog came over to Tom with the soggy yellow tennis ball in its mouth. He tossed it over to the bushes, and the dog came trotting back, and dropped the ball next to Tammy's left ankle. Tom reached over to get it, brushing a smooth firm calf in the process. She was dozing, or pretending to doze, eyes half shut. She didn't stir at his touch. The next time the ball was against her right foot. Tom just happened to touch her left knee in the process of retrieving it, his hand straying up to feel the tendon at the back of her thigh. Again, there was no hint of protest. This went on a few more times, until at last the dog dropped the ball a bit further away, and it rolled to nestle within her blonde curls.

The boys had been keeping up a constant banter, most of it lost as it drifted across the cove. He was more aware of it now that it had stopped completely. One of them let out a low whistle, and the other one was whispering for him to shut up. Mandy had been humming something, rocking back and forth in her own little world. She stopped now. She was staring at the ball, then at what was happening to Tom's dick.

"I didn't have sex with that woman." The phrase ran through his mind. So far he had stayed in bounds, if only barely. Barely, that was the operative word. Yes, that was him, bare naked with two bare naked ladies, barely, barely in bounds. Maybe, he thought, maybe he was over the edge already. Maybe once he had touched that thigh, he had already crossed the line. He knew that he should get up, dive into the clear cool water, and swim over to his clothes. But he didn't. Instead, he waited for her to send the ball back to him. No harm in that.