Lake Heat After Labor Day

The late Memorial Day weekend always brought a peculiar sort of peace to the Ozarks. The summer had officially begun, and with it, the expectation of countless boating days and sun-drenched afternoons. Labor Day weekend, conversely, marked the slow, reluctant retreat of summer, leaving behind a sense of melancholy as the lake waters cooled and the crowds thinned. It was this bittersweet feeling that drew Jenn and me back to our little corner of paradise each year. We craved the solitude, the simple pleasures of the water, and the company of our friends, Sam and Robyn.

Our usual escape was a small, two-bedroom, one-bathroom lakefront house, a place that never quite lived up to the romantic image of a luxurious “hotel sex” experience. The paper-thin walls, the cramped quarters – they forced us to get creative, to improvise, in our pursuit of intimacy. This year, the house felt particularly small, the lack of privacy somehow amplified by the quiet stillness of the lake.

We arrived Friday afternoon, unloading our SUV and setting about unpacking. Sam and I headed off to the marina to fill up the boat and Jet Ski, while Jenn and Robyn began preparing lunch and gathering supplies for the day ahead. The aroma of grilling burgers and hot dogs soon filled the air as we reconvened, sharing a hearty meal before launching into the afternoon’s activities.

The moment I always anticipated – the feeling of freedom as we cast off from the dock – arrived with the push of the ignition and the gentle rocking of the boat. The lake was like glass, reflecting the azure sky, as we slowly navigated towards the main channel. As I steered, my gaze kept drifting back to Jenn, her figure silhouetted against the sun. The gentle sway of the boat, the rising and falling waves, sparked an idea in my mind – her fine ass doing the same as she rode me reverse cowgirl. An erection quickly followed, a familiar but unwelcome sensation in such company. To avoid any awkwardness, I instinctively dove overboard, submerging my periscope in the cool water.

Sam, ever observant, circled back to pick me up, a knowing smile playing on his lips. Once back on board, I quickly fabricated a story about needing a quick swim, hoping they wouldn't press further. We anchored in a secluded cove, enjoying our lunch and the warmth of the sun. Jenn, true to form, spent most of the afternoon lounging on the sundeck, soaking up the rays.

As I finished my fourth beer, I found myself drawn back to Jenn’s form. The alcohol seemed to intensify my perceptions, and the familiar urge to dive back into the water became overwhelming. This time, both Jenn and Robyn joined me in the refreshing coolness of the lake. However, as quickly as they’d entered, they retreated back to the boat, seeking the comfort of the sun.

Back on board, Jenn had rolled over, concealing her ample assets beneath her swimsuit. “This is a good thing,” I thought, clinging to the hope that out of sight, out of mind. A few minutes later, while retrieving another beer, I noticed a telltale bulge beneath the fabric – her wet swimsuit had settled between the folds of her vagina. The sight of her prominent camel toe, enhanced by the moisture, was strangely arousing. I’d always appreciated a woman who knew how to flaunt her assets, and Jenn certainly fit that description. God, she was hot; I had to have some of that!

As the day wore on, approaching six o’clock, we decided to head back to the dock. Securing the boat, towels, and life jackets, we disembarked, carrying everything in one trip, a testament to our efficiency. Sam and Robyn were preparing dinner, so I suggested they head up to the house, leaving Jenn and me to secure the boat and hang the life jackets in the boathouse. The boathouse, really more of a small shed, served as storage for our outdoor gear, but we'd affectionately dubbed it the boathouse nonetheless. There was only enough room for one person inside, so Jenn hung the life jackets while I handed them to her from the doorway.

As she bent down to pick up a fallen jacket, the inevitable happened. Once again, her fine ass was staring me in the face. This time, as she stood up, I instinctively embraced her from behind, nibbling on her neck. She leaned into my touch, tilting her head to give me a better angle. Sliding my left hand into her swimsuit top, I began to fondle her breast, immediately noticing the hardness of her nipple. Reaching my right hand around, I caressed her clit through the silky fabric, eliciting a moan from her lips.

As her moans intensified, I slipped my hand under the suit, stroking her clit directly. Responding to her pleas, I increased the speed and pressure of the rubbing. Suddenly, she shook violently, a muffled scream escaping her lips as she experienced an intense orgasm. I slid two fingers in and out of her wet pussy as she pushed back against me, writhing in ecstasy. She then pulled her swimsuit bottom down, bending over and bracing herself on the shelf as I entered her from the rear.

Her hot pussy welcomed me as I slowly began to thrust. Her moans cued me to give it to her harder and harder. Her head started banging against the wall, but the life jackets did their job, cushioning the blows. The copious amount of beer I'd consumed seemed to delay my own orgasm for what felt like an eternity. Finally, with a muffled scream, I came too, harder than I'd felt in years. We gathered ourselves, our knees weak and our legs wobbly, and made our way back to the house.

Sam and Robyn were none the wiser, absorbed in their shower and changing routine. We quickly slipped into our bedroom, hoping they wouldn't notice our "just fucked" look. Showering and changing into fresh clothes, we joined them in the kitchen, helping prepare dinner.

After the meal, we decided to play a game, Jenn suggesting her famous martinis. Two martinis later, Robyn, typically a beer drinker, was feeling rather tipsy. She excused herself from the table, claiming she was tired, and retreated to her room. As darkness fell, and the clock approached ten, it felt like a fitting time to call it a night. But Jenn had other plans.

I had already settled into bed when Jenn entered the bathroom to do her nightly routine. Fifteen minutes later, she returned, having removed my penis from my shorts. She then proceeded to give me an incredible blow job, a sensation unlike anything I'd ever experienced. It didn't take long before I was stifling my scream, lost in the pleasure. As she drained my cock, swallowing every last drop, she emerged from under the sheets. Without a word, she rolled over and fell asleep.

The next morning, I had to ask her what I’d done to deserve such a treat, and why it had seemed so incredibly different. She simply smiled and said it was a thank you for a lovely day, then revealed her whitening trays. The smooth texture of the trays, simulating the sensation of head from a toothless woman, left me fantasizing about her being old with dentures – up periscope.

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