23 comments/ 123986 views/ 46 favorites Take Me to the River By: angel_grant I was thinking of this summer as my summer—a transition summer. I was leaving for college in the fall, finally getting a little distance from my parents and this small town I'd grown up in. It wasn't that I disliked my hometown, or that my parents were so awful, but I often felt trapped by the limitations of a small town and a family that did things the way they'd always been done. I'd had a happy childhood, but I was restless too. I wanted something else, something different—I wanted something exciting to happen. I imagined myself at college, away from all of that, and wondered what kind of person I would be. Would I be the same shy Elizabeth I'd always been—nervous and self-conscious and unsure? Or would the little bit of independence be all I needed to find my voice? Would I meet a guy who liked me, and more importantly, would I be able to return his affections if he offered them? At that thought, a warmth inside me flared as an image of Paul's face filled my head. I'd always been fascinated by him, but last summer my interest grew more pointed, more specifically interested in Paul as a man, not just the guy who rented my parents' cottage in the summer. He'd arrived last week and I still hadn't worked up the courage to say more than hi to him, but in the brief moments I'd been able to watch him, I'd soaked up every detail my eyes could absorb. I noticed his sleek black hair curled at the edges where it touched his shirt collar, and his eyes were so dark I only saw the deep brown in them when the bright sun was on his face. And his face—it was soft, almost feminine, with gentle slopes and curves and subtle lines and wrinkles that appeared when he spoke, like punctuation marks. Just the thought of it made me shiver with a giddy excitement. It was a typical steamy, upstate New York summer day, late June and already hot and humid. I sat on a large, flat rock by the river, with my feet in the water, watching the sun dance on the surface, thinking about Paul and wishing for the thousandth time I wasn't so shy. He probably thought I was stupid or weird, the way I acted around him, always looking away, mumbling or talking too loud in my nervousness. How I felt about him only made it worse, so bad sometimes I could barely look at him. It was silly, I knew, but I wanted him to think I was interesting, to find me attractive, but that wasn't going to happen if I couldn't even meet his eyes. Not that it mattered, really, he was over 40—he'd never even notice me as more than a kid. It took me twenty minutes to walk back to the house from the water, picking my way up the hill in no hurry at all. I was sweating, sticky and hot by the time I got to the top of the rise where the path from the woods followed the edge of our property, it felt like I'd never even been swimming. I came around the corner of the garden and there—directly in my path to the back porch—sat my dad and Paul, relaxing in a couple of lawn chairs, a table between them with tall glasses of iced tea. My dad saw me immediately, before I could duck back and hide, and a second later Paul turned to look in my direction. "Hey Lizzy," my dad said fondly. "Are you heading down to the river?" I couldn't retreat so I walked toward them, feeling self-conscious. I'd been so hot climbing the hill, I hadn't bothered to put my shirt or shorts on over my suit, and even though it was just a swimsuit, and a modest one at that, I still moved my towel and crumpled clothes in front of me and held them there as a means of covering myself. I went red, I could feel it, even beneath the heat from having climbed the hill, I could feel the blood rush to my face and I prayed it just looked to them like I was overheated. "I just came back," I said. "Looks like you need to get back in, you're hot and sweaty already." "I've never been down to the river," Paul said. I looked at him for the first time and my heart jumped excitedly. "Is it far?" "Not too far," I said. My heart was beating faster already. "It takes fifteen minutes to get there." "Is it on your property?" Paul directed this question to my dad, and I saw his brown eyes sweep down my body before he finished turning his head. "It's technically part of the nature preserve," my dad said. "But none of the hiking paths come up this far. You almost never see anyone else down there. The kids used to play in there a lot when they were little, but not so much anymore. There's a pond, too—it's not too big, but big enough for swimming. Lizzy can show you the path down." Paul looked back at me, smiling. "I'd like that," he said. My dad said something to Paul then that I didn't hear because of the buzzing in my head. Paul turned his attention back to my dad, and as soon as I realized they were onto another topic I headed for the house. I sneaked a look over my shoulder once I reached the porch. My dad was talking and Paul was turned toward him, but his eyes were on me. Had he just watched me walk away? Had he been watching my ass? I turned quickly and didn't look back, but the thrill was just as strong as the embarrassment and I could feel it running through me pleasurably as I hurriedly draped my wet towel on the porch rail and dashed inside. It was a few days before Paul approached me and asked if I'd show him the path down to the river. By then I'd composed a dozen or more fantasies about him, all of them hinging on the two of us being alone together, isolated, away from my family. I didn't really expect him to ask me to show him where he could swim; he'd been coming here for six years and he'd never expressed an interest, even during the really hot summers. It was more likely he was being polite when he and my dad had been talking. So when he approached me in the garden, I was so shocked I didn't have a chance to enter my customary state of panic. "Hi Elizabeth." His voice was smooth and quiet. "Are you ready for a break?" "A break?" I looked up at him, confused. "You've been out here over an hour, you must be roasting." I stared, temporarily frozen, before I shook off my daze and hastily turned my attention back to the row of tomato plants, looking away from his gorgeous face. "I promised my mom I'd do the weeding," I said, now aware of how sweaty and dirty I was, how awful I must have looked. "Let me help you finish," he said, squatting down to my level. "It won't take long. Will you show me how to get to the river then?" "Um, sure," I said as the blood started to creep up my neck. I ducked my head a little, hoping to hide my blush under the brim of my wide hat. I glanced sideways at him and saw him watching me. I looked away and thought I caught the beginning of a smile on his mouth as I turned. It took us ten minutes to finish the job. He asked a few questions and made a few observations, but mostly we worked in silence. Once, his hand accidentally touched mine and a little zip of excitement rushed through me, landing heavily and concentrating between my legs. "It's not far," I said once we'd finished the last row. I wiped the sweat from my face and looked toward the woods. "And it's only the start of the path that's hard to find. Once you do, you just head down the path until you get to the water." I looked at him, dressed in a loose linen shirt and shorts. "Um, do you want me to show you right now, or do you want to change first?" "Let's change first," he said. "Get your suit on and I'll meet you out here." I stared, unable to hide my surprise. "Well, you're coming too aren't you? If anyone deserves a cool swim, it's you." I continued staring as he smiled, turned, and headed for the cottage. I was pretty sure when my dad had suggested I show Paul the way down to the river, he hadn't meant to go along, only to show him where the path started and what general direction to go. Would he be angry if I went? He was at work anyway, so he'd never know—besides, it was only swimming. I tossed my gloves into the potting shed as I passed, and ran home to change, my nervousness now confused with excitement. I grabbed my favorite swim suit—it was two pieces, blue with tiny white flowers. It had a halter top that came to my navel and tied behind my neck, and boy shorts bottoms that sat low, leaving a thin stripe of bare skin exposed at my waist. I pulled it on quickly and looked at myself in the mirror, turning to view my profile and my backside. I had good proportions—breasts that weren't too big or too small, long legs, and a nice curve at my lower back, but I was pale. Red headed and pale with smatterings of freckles across my face, arms, and chest. How could he possibly find that attractive? Then I realized what an idiot I was for even thinking he'd be looking at me in the first place. I quickly brushed out my long red hair and braided it again into one thick plait that hung down my back. I grabbed a towel from the porch railing and was slightly out of breath when I met Paul by the corner of the cottage. He gave me a quick once over—making me blush again—and we headed for the woods. Neither of us spoke as we picked our way down toward the water, but I caught myself hoping he was watching my ass he followed along behind me, watching like he had the other day. When we reached my favorite spot I stopped. I draped my towel over a big, dry boulder in the sun and turned to see Paul looking out over the water, his face split in a smile. "It's beautiful," he said quietly. A moment later he was unbuttoning his shirt and I had to force myself to look away, though I was suddenly very curious to see him without his shirt. I stepped lightly into the shallow water, letting it run over my feet for a few seconds. I made my way carefully across to the spot where I liked to sit—on a little shelf of flat rock that served as a seat, the water just below my breasts. I dared a sideways glance as I lowered myself in. Paul was working his way into the water too, though he'd taken a more direct route and was heading straight for the deeper end. I watched his body move as he balanced on the slippery rocks, the current tugging at his body as he moved further and further into the water. He was lean and athletic, with long, graceful arms and bronze skin. He wasn't muscular, but he was fit, and my whole body went hot in reaction to the sight of his bare chest. My eyes followed the dark line of hair that led down his stomach and vanished beneath the waistband of his swimming trunks, leaving me curious to see where it ended. What did he look like under there? I watched him push off the rocks, slicing across the surface of the water, pulling himself along with an easy stroke. I relaxed in the water, kicking my legs slowly to watch the patterns of light jump and twist over my skin. I felt a little guilty being here, I was sure my dad wouldn't approve, but my thoughts didn't linger there, it was my nervousness that I was focused on. Just being around him made me self-conscious, and when I got self-conscious I couldn't talk. And if I couldn't talk, why would Paul even want to be around me? I desperately wanted to overcome my shyness so I could at least have a conversation with him. I watched as he swam the length and breadth of the pond, slowly making his way around until he was heading back in my direction. At one point he went under, diving. His back curved like a dolphin's as he curled into the water. His legs followed—feet together, toes pointed—and then there was only the ripple blooming on the surface where he'd disappeared. I waited and he resurfaced closer to me, his head bobbing back up, the surface of the water cut into bright shards of sunlight that swelled and shrank and danced. He took a deep breath and wiped the water from his eyes before swimming toward me again. He was a strong swimmer and was soon directly in front of me, squatting to keep his shoulders below the water's surface. He turned, offering me his back. "Here," he said, "let's go to the other side, the water's so much cooler where it's deep, and there's a great spot to sit in the shade." He turned his head over his shoulder to look at me, moving backward until his body touched my knees. "Come on, I'll be your water taxi." I wasn't sure what to do—I thought I should say no and just swim myself, but I couldn't make the words come out of my mouth. Instead, I reached out and put a hand on each of his shoulders, surprised by the rush of excited terror I felt. He took them at once and drew them forward, around his neck. "Hang on," he said, and a second later I was holding him tight as we launched into the water together. At first the closeness of our bodies made my heart pound with fright, but I was also excited by the slippery smooth heat of his skin against mine, the softness of the water passing over my body, and the way he pulled us both toward the far shore, so efficiently and smoothly. His legs kicked below mine and I felt the power in his shoulders as he sliced and pulled the water, propelling us to the other side of the pond. I laughed out loud, half from nervousness and half from delight. I'd never been this close, this intimately close, to a man before and it was a heady thrill. He turned again as we reached the far side of the pond. He took my arms from around his neck and pulled me toward a long, flat submerged rock. He sat down, the water reaching his waist, and I sat beside him. "It's shadier on this side of the pond," he said, looking around us. "More secluded too." We were quiet for a few minutes, listening to the summer sounds of water and birdsong. "You must burn easily," he said, making me look up. "With your fair skin and all those freckles." He reached forward and rolled the strap of my bathing suit toward my neck once, straightening it, and then let his finger travel outward and down, along the outside of my arm. A heat lingered where his finger had touched me, sending a shiver through me that hardened my nipples. I looked away from him, embarrassed, but excited. "You're so shy," he said. I'd heard that my whole life, usually spoken by exasperated parents or teachers, but all I heard in Paul's soft voice was a gentle sweetness. I looked up at him even though I was blushing. "And pretty, too." He smiled and I had to look away again. His words were so exciting, but they made me squirm uncomfortably too. "Could I see you with your hair down, Elizabeth?" he asked after a minute of silence. "I never have." He sounded like someone asking permission, as if it was something he'd always wanted and had finally dared to ask. I thought I should say no—it seemed inappropriate, but why? Examining my feelings I knew I wanted to do it, I wanted to do what he wanted. I wanted him to tell me I was pretty again. I wanted to hear it, to believe he really thought so. I brought the end of my braid around and slid the elastic off, putting it on my wrist for lack of a better place. He watched me, and as I started unraveling the strands I felt exposed, like I was undressing. I unwound it, letting it fall in wet strands over my shoulders and combed it out with my fingers. I kept my eyes down, all too conscious of his unblinking stare. "Look at you," he said with a wonder that thrilled me to my toes. He lifted his hand and ran it from the top of my head down, drawing a waterlogged ribbon of it between his fingers, squeezing a drop of water from the tip. He took a moment to arrange it, pushing some hair from my shoulder, bringing some forward where it fell heavy and wet at the top of my breasts. As he touched my hair, ripples of pleasure moved through me, like the ripples that spread across the surface of the pond from the water that dripped from Paul's outstretched hand, radiating outward and fading away. "Do you ever wear it down like this? It's so beautiful." He combed his fingers through once more, and when he lifted his hand again he touched my cheek. "You're beautiful too," he said. I blushed and in my nervousness, looked away, letting my hair swing forward to curtain my face. He reached and tucked the hair behind my ear. "Don't hide," he coaxed me gently. I could hear the smile in his voice, making the request benign. "I want to see you, let me look." I let him turn my head, his hand light on my chin, and looked at him nervously. His ran his eyes over my face slowly, his smile still held on his lips as he studied me. He looked at me for so long and so intently my excitement turned panicky, but nothing in his facial expression stirred that fear—he looked curious, a little expectant, like he was waiting for something, for me to do something, but I didn't know what. My face was hot and my heart was beating fast. Fear and excitement mixed with worry that I'd do something wrong, something to change his interest. I looked away again and immediately his hand was on my cheek, gently turning my face back to him. The very next instant, he leaned toward me and pressed his lips to mine. A panic rose in me, making me freeze. I held completely still as his lips touched mine. Alarms were going off in my head: Kiss him back! Kiss him now! He turned his head slightly, kissing me again and I responded with an awkward twitch of my lips. Another kiss, my chin cupped lightly in his hand, but I failed to respond at all, paralyzed by my fear. He drew back quickly, his hand dropping from my face. "I'm sorry, I thought—" "No, I'm sorry," I said, cutting him off. He looked confused and leaned back. "I'm sorry," I said again. In my nervousness, my voice was too high and strained. "I want to, but I'm not—I mean, I'm—I've never—um. I've never done...anything." The confusion in his expression deepened. He eyed me carefully before he spoke. "Never?" My head swam for a second as embarrassment overwhelmed me. I shook my head knowing I'd just ruined everything. "Never kissed?" His voice was gentle, but the disbelief was obvious. I shook my head again, horrified by the turn of events. He continued looking at me for a few seconds and I wished for once he wouldn't. I felt like crying. A second ago he'd said I was beautiful, he'd kissed me, and now he was retreating. "I didn't know." His voice held an apologetic tone. He started to turn as if to turn away from me, and I reached out suddenly, touching his arm. "No, I want to, I want to." I felt so stupid for having no experience, for being young, for having to admit I was so naive. "I just never have before." He was quiet for a while and then he lifted his hand again and ran it up my arm soothingly. He looked away for a second, then back at me. He seemed to make a decision. "Let's try again." He brought his hand to my face and leaned in. He spoke slowly and carefully, his voice even softer than before. "Forget about what just happened, it didn't happen—this will be your first kiss." He looked at me, his dark eyes so close to mine, and I shivered in anticipation. "Alright?" He paused, waiting for a response. "Yes," I said. "You have to kiss me back, though. Otherwise it doesn't count." He paused a few seconds longer and moved toward me again. His eyes closed and I closed mine too, shutting out the light, trying to concentrate on how it felt. There was the heat of his lips first, and then a light pressure that very slowly, very gradually increased as he pressed his mouth to mine softly, so softly. I felt the slight movement of the muscles of his mouth, the change in the shape of his lips as he kissed me more firmly. It was all so subtle, the touching and testing, and the pleasure swirled through me like a current, filling me up. He moved very slowly and I tried to follow his lead, to return his advances, but I wasn't sure how successful I was. My head was spinning and my stomach was knotted and tense. I could feel how tightly I was holding myself, noticed my hands were clenched at my sides, and tried to relax. I reached up to touch his shoulder, to bring myself back to reality, and the heat of his body against my palm made the knot of tension loosen a little. Take Me to the River As the kisses grew more intense his mouth opened against mine. Again I was surprised—by the wetness and heat—but surprise quickly turned to arousal and I opened my own mouth, letting our tongues meet for one brief, electric second. His hand moved behind me at the same time he slid from the rock and faced me. He lifted me from the rock shelf and pulled me toward him, bringing both of us lower until the water reached our shoulders. We balanced on deeper rocks and kissed some more in the cool cocoon of the pond. I felt a gentle tug at my neck and then the light pressure of the tie that held my top in place lessened. The straps went slack and Paul brought his hand from behind me, the end of the tie still between his fingers. My heart beat in panic as he drew the tie toward him and then down, lower until his hand was below the surface of the water, lower still until I felt the fabric sliding down my breast. In a panic I grabbed his arm and he stopped. I felt him look at me. I couldn't meet his eyes, couldn't tear mine away from the scene beneath the water's surface—his body so close, my breast nearly revealed. I loosened my grip on his arm and he continued to move his hand lower. I held my breath as the blue of my swimsuit was drawn away from my breast, first one then the other, and though I'd been submerged for a while, the water felt cool on my newly bared skin. My hair moved in the water, undulating gently like an anemone, creating a fine curtain of copper red above my breasts. "Your skin is so pale and perfect," he said as he ran his hand along my side, inching toward my breasts. He covered one completely with his hand, letting his fingers relax until they cupped my flesh. I stared at his hand, his skin looked so dark against mine, his hand looked so big. He spread his fingers like a starfish and began to flex them, kneading my breast. I squirmed, gripping his arm tight again, and made a noise that caused him to look at me with concern. "Are you alright?" His voice was gentle. "You're holding your breath." I exhaled, but held the next sudden breath as he lifted his hand. The cool water shocked me again and I watched with fascinated apprehension as he ran a finger over my nipple experimentally, tracing along the edge where the white of my skin met the dark pink of my nipple. I squirmed again and let out a whimper. "You're so sensitive." His finger still circled my nipple teasingly and I felt the heat between my legs, building with an intense ache. He circled again and brought his fingertip directly to my nipple, rolling it slowly. I cried out. "Do you want me to stop?" "No," I managed to say as I let out a strained breath. He didn't stop. Instead he brought his other hand up and was soon rolling both nipples beneath his palms. As he did, his movements stirred the water and the current that followed his hands was like another, softer touch, a ghost of a touch spreading out over my skin with light, teasing fingers. The pleasure was acute and on the verge of being too much when he finally pulled his hands away, running them down my sides and over my hips. He kissed me once more and his hands moved over my ass, his fingers spreading out and grasping me firmly, pulling me tight against him. I felt the hardness of his erection between us as he pressed me close. It was dizzying, just the thought of it. "Put your arms around my neck," he said. "I'm going to lift you up." I did as he asked and his hands moved lower on my ass. "Wrap your legs around me." As soon as I lifted my feet from the rock we were balanced on, he boosted me, his hands running along my thighs. "Wrap them tight." I couldn't believe this was happening. I couldn't believe it was real, it was me with my legs spread and my breasts bared. I hooked my ankles behind Paul's waist and felt his hard penis touching me, pressing against the fabric of my swimsuit and my swollen labia beneath. He took a step forward, toward the shore, and I hung on, delighted by the solidity and warmth of his body against mine. He walked slowly, stopping to press a kiss on my mouth once, gradually bringing us out of the water. As the weightlessness of being submerged decreased, my body sat against his with more weight, pressing the sensitive and increasingly swollen outer lips of my vulva against his penis. The slight rise and fall of his hips as he moved applied a light friction that made me buzz inside. When the water was to his knees he stopped and gently eased my legs from around his waist. I stood, a little uneasily, and he undid the tie at the front of his swim trunks. He pushed them low on his hips and I drew a sharp breath as he took his erect penis in his hand. Time seemed to slow for just a moment as my brain scrambled to catch up with the thousand panicked thoughts I was having. I stared, frozen, barely feeling the water dripping from my hair and running down my back, barely hearing the bubble of the river as it moved over the rocks. The only sexual knowledge I had was gathered from looking at porn online, or from friends who were sexually active. I had no personal frame of reference, no past experiences to compare to this; he looked huge to me, but I really didn't know. I watched his hand move, and with equal parts fear and excitement, I reached out to touch him. He drew his hand away and very gently ran it up my arm. I shivered and closed my fingers around his cock. It was so hot, even after being in the water for so long, it was hot. And though it felt hard, the softness of his skin surprised me. I hadn't anticipated either of those details, but they thrilled me to my core. I took a few seconds to study him, drawing my hand along the length, running my fingers over the blunt tip, tracing the profile of the head—the smooth curve that flared and then fell back where it met the shaft. I was fascinated. I ran my thumb along the underside of the head, wondering if this was the spot that was supposed to be most sensitive, and then trailed my fingers back down the shaft, closing my fingers around it again. My shyness returned suddenly. I had Paul's cock in my hand and I wasn't sure what to do. I knew the mechanics of it, but what was the right thing to do first? What did he expect? Should I stroke it? Did he want me to suck it? And if so—either one—how fast? How hard? He must have seen my nervous self doubt. He closed his hand over mine and squeezed it gently. He guided me, pulling my hand up, closing my fingers as we passed the widest point, then down until I felt the softness of his pubic hair on my skin. He drew our hands upward again, together, and I watched in wonder as the head of his penis disappeared inside my fist, then reappeared as Paul pressed our hands down again, applying light pressure as he did. He guided my strokes a few more times and then drew his hand away, lifting it to take my chin and turn my face to his. He looked at me for a long second before he kissed me, his mouth opening over mine, his tongue slipping just between my lips until I gasped. I'd stopped stroking when he kissed me and I felt his hand close over mine again. "I'm sorry," I said automatically. "I'm not," I paused, hating to admit it, even though it was obvious. "I'm not very good at this, am I?" He kissed me again, still guiding my hand. "It's lovely, Elizabeth. Your hand is so soft, it feels great." He kissed me again, and with his lips still on mine, he said, "Don't worry so much. You're perfect." He kissed me once more and moved his hand to my breast. I sighed, thrilled by his words and all the places where our bodies touched. I knew he was just being kind, that I wasn't good at what I was doing, but I tried to feel his reactions and respond—lengthening my strokes at times, moving faster or slower—and I was pleased when he finally groaned in pleasure. His hand moved from my breast and slid directly between my legs. I jumped when he curled it to cup my sex in his palm. He groaned again, more softly and drew my hand away. He stepped so he was directly in front of me and hooked his fingers into the waistband of my swimsuit bottoms. "I want to see you naked," he said suddenly. "You're so pretty, I want to see more." His voice was still soft, but excited. My heart jumped. He bent his head and kissed my cheek, whispering then, his mouth moving close to my ear. "Will you let me, Elizabeth? Will you let me see everything?" I stared, overwhelmed by the question, but I didn't stop him from lowering my swimsuit bottoms. He drew them to my mid thigh and we both looked down as he ran his hand directly over the wet patch of hair that concealed my most private place. His touch was light and he only made one pass before he bent, drawing my suit bottoms under the water and all the way to my ankles. I stepped out, wobbling a little from excitement, and once he'd removed his own shorts, he tossed them both, dripping from their brief dunk in the water, onto the shore. They landed with a wet slap that was sudden and sharp in the relative quiet of our sheltered nook. He stood and reached for my swimsuit top to pull it upward, up and over my head. He tossed that to the side too and pulled me close, our bodies bare, his erect cock pressing against my belly. "God you're exciting. I love your flawless skin." He ran his hands over my back and placed light kisses along my cheek, moving gradually toward my mouth. "I love how pink it is, pink and clean and soft." His mouth reached mine and he kissed me with passion. It was like every nerve in my entire body woke up, the pleasure was so intense. I kissed him back and I soon felt I couldn't get enough of him. I wanted more of his skin on mine, more of his tongue between my lips, more of his eager caresses, his hardness and hunger. I wanted more—everything and anything he wanted—and maybe more beyond that. He slid his mouth from mine and pressed his face to my neck, kissing me there. His hands moved over my hips, keeping me close to him, pressed tight. He moved lower and stepped back so he could bend and kiss my breast, his hand coming up to lift the flesh to his mouth. I made a noise before he even made contact—a sharp squeak that might have been an expression of excitement or fear, even I wasn't sure which. And when his mouth touched my nipple I groaned, letting out a held breath then drawing another quickly. His tongue darted out from between his lips, the same pink as my nipple, and he made a few slow passes starting just below my nipple and licking upward. I was surprised when he knelt and settled himself in front of me on his knees, I wasn't sure if he wanted me to move too, or what he wanted me to do. I watched as he kissed his way down my stomach and ran his hands over my hips soothingly. I saw his back bend, and watched for a second as the beads of water still on his skin caught the light, making his back look like it was sprinkled with jewels. Then I felt his mouth moving lower still, placing light kisses all the way, lower and lower until his tongue was swirling in the pubic hair just above where my body split and true pleasure started. I held my breath as he tilted his head, looking up at me. He held my gaze as he opened his mouth, extended his tongue, and ran it carefully and with excruciating slowness along the cleft where my outer lips met. It was the lightest touch, and it sent shiver after shiver up my spine as he licked up and down, barely grazing the skin. As the pressure of his tongue against my labia increased, I knew what was about to happen, but I wasn't prepared for how it would feel. He eased his tongue forward, slipping it between my pussy lips, and resumed licking in long, slow movements, his tongue wide and relaxed. It was unlike any touch I'd ever felt, the pleasure was everywhere at once, like a patch of steadily building heat. I groaned and reached for his shoulder to steady myself as I swayed dizzily. He brought a hand up and curved it around my hip, holding me steady. Then he pulled me closer, brought his free hand up, and used it to part my outer lips. I watched—we both watched—as the folds of my vagina spread, the flesh glistening pink and on obvious display in the bright sunlight. "Pink and soft," he breathed, and his breath touched my open pussy, light and warm and fluttering. "God, you are perfect." He brought his mouth close again and very carefully made a circle around my clitoris. He used a finger to draw the flesh away, isolating my clit, and brought his tongue back, this time circling closer. Another circle, and then his touch was direct and firm and I nearly bent double when a wave of pleasure swept through me. He did it again and again until I was nearly panting and then he drew back and stood. He grabbed my hands and pulled me toward the deep water again, wrapping his arm around me once it was deep enough I couldn't touch the bottom. He put my arms around his neck and lifted me, wrapping my legs around his waist again. He sighed when our bodies met and kissed me, open mouthed and searching. I felt the hardness of his erection again, pressing against my flesh, but without the buffer of my suit bottom, his cock nestled right between my labia, skin on skin. He flexed his hips, pressing himself more firmly against me and moved me up and down slightly, rubbing our bodies together. I panicked for a second, afraid he was going to try to push himself inside me, and I squirmed to get my legs from his grasp. "Wait!" My voice was sharp, full of fear. I pushed at him and he let me go, looking startled. I moved back a little, treading water, my heart being hard. "I'm not ready. . ." He looked confused, but then his face changed to concern and he lifted his hands, like he was showing me he meant no harm. "No, I wasn't going to," he said, swaying in the water. "I swear. I wouldn't, Elizabeth. I wouldn't." His voice was soft and sorry and looking at him I knew he meant what he'd said, he hadn't been pressing his advantage, I had just panicked. I moved back toward him and he took me in his arms again but didn't lift me this time. "You looked so scared," he said, pulling me tight. "I'm sorry." We kissed and he slowly walked us back to the shallows, stopping when the water was at his waist. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I didn't mean to scare you, I really didn't." He stepped back a half step so our bodies no longer touched and took my face in his hands. I looked down to see his cock was only half erect, and there was an undeniable something missing from his face—the lusty hunger that had played under the surface of his features all afternoon. He was backing away from me. Not literally, but everything about his body language said he was retreating. "No," I said, "I know you didn't. I just panicked for a second, I don't know why." "Because you're not ready," he said. He bent and kissed me and my arousal returned immediately, but then he let his hands fall and he straightened his back. "I'm sorry I scared you, I was too fast. I shouldn't even be doing this." "No, it's OK," I said. "It's not." He looked away, up toward the shore where he'd tossed our swim suits. "It's not OK." "Why?" I felt panic of a different kind then. "Why not?" "Jesus, Elizabeth, I'm 42 years old. And you're a—" He stopped and just looked at me, his face drawn. The mood was flat, he didn't want me, but I still wanted him. I decided I had to do something, though it scared me so much my heart was practically in my mouth. I moved closer and put my hands on his hips and pressed our bodies close, the way he had earlier. "Can't we pretend that didn't happen and start over?" I asked. He laughed after a second, but he didn't take me in his arms or bend to kiss me the way I wanted him to. He didn't move away either. "You're so exciting, Elizabeth. Really, you're fantastic, but I can't do this. I'm sorry." I could see he meant it, he was sorry, but I didn't believe he wanted to stop, I didn't hear conviction in that statement. So I pushed my shy uncertainty to the side and acted, hoping I wasn't about to make a fool of myself. I moved my hands, one up to his neck so I could pull him toward me for a kiss, the other between us in search of his softened erection. Our lips met and he didn't hesitate to kiss me back, but when my hand slid over his soft penis he drew back to look at me questioningly. My boldness excited me and I felt myself blush, but I didn't move my hand away. Instead I ran it down between his legs until my fingers were able to curl around his scrotum. I took a few seconds to explore with my fingers, though I felt nervousness creeping back. I trailed my fingers up and put my hand on his penis, wrapping my fingers around it. It was so much smaller now, soft, and wrinkled with loose skin. I had no idea if touching him would be enough to get him hard, or if he was even still turned on by me, but I wanted to try. I tugged at his neck again and he kissed me. I took his hand and slid it to my breast, closing his fingers around it to let him know what I wanted, to let him know he could have me. He groaned into my mouth and I realized his cock had already grown a little in my hand. I continued my gentle stroking and was thrilled to feel it lengthen and thicken, it gave me a chill of excitement to know I was having an affect on him. We kissed and when he was fully erect and beginning to breathe more quickly he took my arms and put them around his neck. He held my gaze for a moment before he lifted me again. "You're sure about this?" he asked softly. Without hesitation I hung onto him and lifted my legs to wrap them around his waist. He sighed and supported my weight on his hands, taking a moment to shift so his cock was aligned with my vulva. I was still wet, not nearly as aroused as I had been, but it wasn't long before tension was building inside me again. He rocked against me while we kissed, growing more and more fevered as we did. The way he was moving, Paul's cock was rubbing directly over my clit, pushing and sliding against it, my own fluids lubricating his strokes. I felt a mounting tightness inside and realized I was close to coming—so quickly, so soon. Worry flooded my brain—was I supposed to wait? If I had an orgasm now would he be disappointed? Did I need to tell him? I wasn't sure what to do, and I was getting closer and closer with every movement of his hips. Worry was overcome by pleasure as a subtle change in Paul's posture made my arousal swell. I couldn't resist the urge to move, to concentrate the pressure on my clit. I moaned and tightened my hold on his neck, my heart beating hard in my chest. Paul sensed or guessed what I was feeling and dropped his hands to my ass, pressing me even tighter against him. "You're going to come," he said, his voice full of excitement. "I am," I said, breathing fast. "Should I wait for you to—" "God, no Elizabeth, come now, sweetheart, come." "I am, I am," I said. And then, a bit unnecessarily because I was moaning and sighing and writhing with obvious bliss, I said, "Oh God, it feels so good." I hung onto him and bit my lower lip, bracing myself. I was panting against his shoulder, my breasts crushed against his chest while we both continued to rock back and forth, faster and faster, the water slapping against us as we disturbed the surface with our efforts. "So good. It feels so good!" I panted repeatedly. In some part of my brain the knowledge that I was about to have my very first orgasm with a man was asserting itself. The thought brought me right to the edge. "I'm going to come, I'm going to come!" I gasped. "Yes, yes," he gasped back. "Elizabeth—come." I pressed my face against his neck, feeling the throb of his pulse against my skin, and nearly wailed as the ache intensified to a point of near agony. I heard Paul saying my name, I could hear the excitement in his voice, I heard my own whimpering, but it was all so far away. Then there was a hot moment of nothing—a pause that pressed against me hard, squeezing my lungs until I thought I'd never take another breath—and just when I thought I couldn't bear another second of it, the pressure spiked, making me cry out, and then it dropped and rose and dropped and rose again, pleasure tearing through me in violent waves. Take Me to the River I rocked my hips, grinding myself against him, wanting more—more motion, more contact, more of this feeling that crashed inside me like the waves from a boat's wake reaching the shore. I wanted it to keep going, I wanted to never stop feeling this good. I groaned against his neck and clung to him tightly while the pulses inside me slowed and gradually subsided. "Oh my God, oh my God," I said against Paul's neck. "I had no idea—I thought—I thought—" I was panting, unable to make sense of my thoughts or turn them into words. I'd had orgasms before (I might not have had any experience with men, but I knew how to make myself come) and I'd had powerful ones, but this was different, thrilling in a totally different way. The sensation of his body on mine, the slippery smoothness of his cock against my vulva, sliding together, lubricated by my own arousal—I could never have imagined how good that would feel. Paul wrapped his arms around me and kissed me hard. He bent his knees and brought us both lower under the water so just our heads were above the surface, and for a long time we just kissed and held onto each other as my breathing and heart rate returned to normal. I unhooked my legs from behind his waist and slowly let our bodies part. He took my hands, gave me a soft kiss, and we headed for the shore. My whole body buzzed from my orgasm and the thrilling realization I'd been so close to him—so close it felt like we were part of each other. I couldn't imagine feeling more intimate than that, but as we slowly made our way out of the water I looked at his still erect penis and wondered how it would feel to have him actually inside me. I moved in front of him as he sat on a dry rock, his feet still in the water. I stared at his cock pointing straight up to the sky, and nervously moved myself between his legs. He looked at me as I knelt, pushing his feet apart so I could situate myself comfortably on the rocks beneath the surface. I wasn't sure how good I'd be at this either, but I wanted to try. I took him in my hand, rested my arms on his thighs, and tentatively brought my mouth to the tip of his penis. I could see him watching me, and I had to close my eyes against his gaze, my nervousness flaring as I wondered how best to approach this—my first ever attempt at a blow job. I slowly ran my fingers up and down his length while using my tongue over the round head, tasting the river as I did. I remembered a friend of mine telling me how she hated giving her boyfriend blow jobs. She thought it was gross, but her boyfriend went crazy when she did it, he loved it so much. I worried I would hate it too, but when Paul reached down and touched my head and I opened my eyes to see his expression of pleasure and something that might have been admiration, I knew there was no way I could hate this or anything else that made him feel so good. I continued stroking him slowly and experimented, moving my tongue across and around, moving in circles, licking lightly, then more firmly until I eventually closed my lips over the end and let him enter my mouth. He sighed and I felt a dizzying thrill as the widest part of the head slid past my lips, sliding against my tongue. I curled my tongue around it making a trough for his cock to slide against. I looked up at him then and he groaned. "That's nice, so nice, Elizabeth." I drew my head back and continued to experiment more. I found he liked a light touch from my stroking fingers, either up and down the shaft of his penis or trailing lower to cup and stroke his balls. But the more pressure I applied with my lips, the more enthusiastically I sucked him, the more he moaned and twitched in pleasure. I closed my eyes again and listened to his quick breath, his gasps of praise and delight as his arousal steadily grew. I felt the achy tension inside me and started to wonder again what it would feel like to have his cock inside me. I'd felt it against me, and now on my tongue, but how would it feel if he entered me, if he filled me? I pulled my head away and pushed myself up, using his thighs to steady myself, and immediately he reached for me, pulling me onto his lap. I straddled him, the rock uncomfortably hard under my knees, and felt his cock nestle against me again. Remembering my orgasm, I shivered excitedly. I wanted to know how it would feel sliding into me, I wanted it bad. He pulled me toward him and kissed me, his tongue parting my lips and searching for mine. I moved my hips and felt heat spread through me. His breathing was ragged and I could feel his heart being fast in his chest. "Paul," I said when our lips finally parted. "Will you have sex with me?" "Aren't we already—" he started to say. "Oh, you mean . . . Elizabeth I don't know. Are you sure?" I looked him in the eye, wanting him to know without a shadow of a doubt how sure I was. "I'm sure." He looked at me a few seconds, conflict on his face, and then he lifted his head to kiss me again. "Once it's done, it's done." "I know." "We can't undo it." "I know." "Or decide it didn't happen—not like with your first kiss." "I know." He looked me a little longer before he made his decision. Then he reached down to where our bodies met. I rose up a little, giving his hand room. I looked down and watched him angle his penis. I felt the blunt pressure of it on my clit and then felt it sliding back slowly, inching along until the tip nestled against my vaginal opening. I gasped, more out of excitement than anything else, but it made him pause. "It's your first time, so let's not rush it. Take me inside you, Elizabeth." He moved his hand away, leaving his cock pressing against me. "Take me inside, baby, as slowly as you need." I looked at him, grateful and scared, thrilled and uncertain. I stared at his cock, poised to enter me, and felt a little panicky—it seemed so very big pressed against me, though I knew it would fit, my body would accept it all, and I wanted to know how that would feel. I let my legs relax a little, bringing my hips down a fraction of an inch. Immediately a thousand sensations shot through me, crisscrossing and contradicting—pleasure and discomfort, all laced with fear and excitement—but no pain, I noticed. He looked up at me, one arm braced on the rock, his hand roaming over my thigh and up my hip. He was waiting, giving me time. He smiled, the lines around his mouth and eyes deepening, making his handsome face even more appealing. I tried to smile back, but I shifted, the tangle of sensations moved through me again. I groaned and noticed there was less fear now, and a delightful arousal was swelling where his body began to split mine. He brought his hand to my breast and gently stroked it. "I can feel you opening up," he said softly. I closed my eyes for a second, trying to isolate the feeling—the pleasure—and gradually relaxed, letting my body stretch as his cock head pushed inside me. There was a distinct stripe of discomfort just at the entrance, but as I let out the breath I didn't know I'd been holding, I felt the pain lessen. "Oh God," he said. "You're opening up for me, I can feel your muscles relaxing and letting me go deeper." He seemed as excited as I was, but he remained perfectly still beneath me, giving me more time to take him inside. His hand moved over my breast, fingers circling my nipple. My body yielded a little at a time, the panicky feeling ebbing away as he moved deeper and deeper inside me. Before I'd taken him all the way in, I moved myself up and down, my wetness increasing, lessening the intensity of the friction. The pleasure that was concentrated where his cock penetrated me grew steadily more pronounced until it felt like my body was gripping him, holding onto his penis, wanting to keep him inside "God, you're so exciting, Elizabeth." He seemed a little dazed, but he smiled at me, clearly aroused by the slow movements of my hips. "Kiss me," he said suddenly, reaching for my face. I leaned and he immediately thrust his tongue between my lips. At the same time his hips moved a little, pushing up against me gently. His cock moved deeper and his tongue swept over mine in a lusty search. I felt full of him, part of him. He leaned back, pulling me with him so that he was on his back and I was over him, my hands on the rock at either side of his head, my hair hanging down over one shoulder, still wet, but not dripping. His hands covered my breasts and he looked at me with an intense, hungry expression. "Ride me, Elizabeth. You're still tense inside, I'm afraid I'll hurt you if I move too soon." He ran his hands over my body, making me shiver. "Ride me until you're ready for me to move." He didn't have to tell me twice. I was moving slowly but steadily, rising up on his cock and down again letting him fill me with each downward motion of my hips. With each movement I held back less, making my descent a little more rapid, a little less careful. "Oh Paul." I looked down at him, at the sky reflected in his dark eyes and the lines across his forehead, his expectancy and desire, and moaned his name. It came out plea, the vowels held long and stretched into a throaty groan. "Paul, it feels so good." "Can we shift now? Are you ready?" I was reluctant to stop, but he looked so eager I couldn't say no. I nodded, not sure he wanted, but not caring provided it felt at least as good as having him fill me did. He sat up and guided me off his lap, helping me stand. He moved behind me, kissed my shoulder and sighed. "Elizabeth," he whispered. I felt his hand between us, guiding his cock back to my pussy. "It's so exciting being close to you like this." I tilted my hips when I felt his penis touch me, and leaned back against him, letting him press himself deeper inside me. He groaned and curled his hands around my hip bones, holding me steady as he started to move forward and back, filling me repeatedly. "Is it alright? You're so tight like this, does it hurt?" "No, it's—" He lurched forward and I gasped. "Good, so good." He groaned in agreement, moving a little more quickly. I had no way to balance myself as he rocked behind me. His hands held my hips and my feet were planted firmly against the rocks below, but every quick thrust of his hips made me jump and reach for something to steady myself. He saw me flail and stopped, wrapping his arms around me and breathing fast against my neck. Without a word, he stepped back, letting our bodies divide, and took my hand, leading me back into the water. He stopped at a large rock that was almost perfectly round and dappled with sunlight, the water reaching half way up its round belly, and to just above Paul's knees. He turned me toward it gently, positioned himself, and buried his cock inside me again. Immediately, I fell forward slightly, catching myself on the rock. My slight forward bend changed the angle of his entrance, making both of us groan. He felt deeper, bigger, more urgent, and my muscles held him tight, my whole body pulsing with arousal. He pushed forward and drew back again and again, growing frantic at times, then forcing himself to slow and gain control again. I took it all—thrilled by the sudden jolt of fullness when his thrusts took him deep, the sound of his ragged breathing, and his hands moving over me, sometimes gently, sometimes with desperate roughness. I turned to look over my shoulder at him. Light danced on his skin, reflected from the surface of the water where it churned and rocked. His head was bent forward, his hair falling over his face, and I could see his intense concentration and how much pleasure he felt from fucking me this way. I moved my hand down between my legs, still watching him, and touched my clit. He lifted his head, unaware I'd been watching him, and made a noise like a groan, an exhale, and a laugh all in one. He pulled at my hips, drawing me toward him as he thrust, and the smile that spread across his face made me shiver to my toes. I stroked myself, delighted to find my own arousal growing again, spurred by his quick thrusts, his body meeting mine, and the sounds of his breath and the water slapping at the rocks around us. I tilted my hips and everything intensified. Paul groaned behind me, suddenly putting more effort into his thrusts. Soon we were both breathing fast, and I could tell I would come again. I bent my back experimentally, noticing the subtle differences in where and how his thrusts touched me as I changed the angle of my hips. I found a position, with my back arched, where his forward motions and my diligent stroking increased the pleasure in sudden swells, one after another, until I felt squeezed so tight I worried we'd pass through pleasure into pain. I felt full, ready to spill over, ready to crash. I started to babble as my skin tingled and my toes curled against the slippery rock surface beneath me. "Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop." I pushed against the rock and closed my eyes. "Fuck, that's going to make me come. Don't stop, Paul." I let my head drop down, my hair dangling over the water and found the spot that brought me full to the brim. I gasped and felt it begin to spill through me, crashing like a bucket of water being emptied all at once. I shook, surprised by how strong the pulse was at the entrance to my vagina, at the spot where Paul's cock stretched me wide. I felt it there most keenly, squeezing hard, then moving through me in weaker and weaker pulses. And I cried out, my voice bounced off the rocks and back at me, sharp and desperate. I made no sense, just noise. Behind me Paul answered in grunts, straining and breathing hard. I turned again, to look over my shoulder at him. His eyes were wide beneath a twisted brow and his mouth was open as he panted. "I'm going to come too," he breathed, repeating it a dozen times, his voice soft and urgent. "I'm going to come, Elizabeth." I pushed back against him, my hands on the rock in front of me, my torso slightly lower than my hips, bracing myself, but also offering myself to him, giving him permission to fuck me any way he needed. He shifted his hands, grasping me tighter at the hip, and thrust a little harder a dozen times, his voice close to a whine of frustration, before he pulled out rapidly, taking his cock in his hand. He still held me with one hand, his fingers digging in, pressed hard against my hip bone, while he pumped himself in the fist of his other hand. He looked at me as he stroked himself and I saw his lips form my name, his face twisting even more into a look of agony. I gasped, still watching over my shoulder, and he groaned his pleasure from deep in his throat. Then his hips stopped moving, his hand slid faster still, in shorter strokes, and I watched semen erupt from his cock in a long, thick white strand. He closed his eyes, grimacing, and groaned again, this time in a higher register, as another thick rope of cum shot from his cock, stretching across my back. The sight was mesmerizing, his tortured expression, his suddenly short and concentrated strokes, and the volume of cum that he emptied onto my body. His groans became low noises of pleasure until his hand stopped moving and he looked down at me, his face flushed, sweat on his brow, his chest rising and falling fast. He reached for my hand and pulled me toward him, crushing me to his chest. He kissed me hard. I felt the sweat on his face and the hammering of his heart as he held me close. He slowly walked backward, bringing us both back into the water again. "Oh my God," he said after a few breathy kisses. "You turn me on so much. I came so hard, I thought I was going to pass out." He kissed my face and ran his hands over my back. "I made a mess back there, I'm sorry." I shook my head, a little embarrassed to admit it. "It was exciting to watch you." He smiled and for another minute or two, we held onto each other in the water and kissed. We slowly made our way back to the shore to retrieve our suits before we swam back to the other side again. He gave me his back on this trip too, and I pressed close to him, wrapping my legs around his waist as he pulled us along. As we walked back up the path, making our way slowly, I thought about everything that had happened and of how far beyond my imaginings it had been. The level of pleasure I'd felt made all my past fantasies seem pale and washed out. He stopped before we reached the trail head and turned to look at me. I stopped and looked back, my shyness creeping in under the intensity of his gaze, making me want to look away. "Thanks for showing me the path," he said. A knowing smile slowly stretched his mouth. "Thanks for coming along with me." "You're welcome," I mumbled, looking away out of embarrassment. He leaned forward, angling his head and kissed the cheek I had turned toward him. When I turned to look at him, he kissed me on the mouth. And though my arousal flared again, I only kissed him back gently. It was a soft kiss that felt like a seal, like closure on the events of the afternoon. He smiled again as he straightened, and then turned and worked his way to the top of the rise where the trees ended at the edge of my parents' property. We walked toward the house without speaking, sweating soon after we left the cover of the trees. I followed behind him, my insides churning in a mix of delight and disbelief. We parted when we reached the cottage. He stopped and I could feel him watching as I walked toward my house. "It's supposed to be hot again tomorrow," he said just before I got to the porch. His voice was normal, the same voice he'd use to talk to my parents. "Get your work done early, we can go swimming again." He made a little wave and turned away toward the door of the cottage. I watched him enter and close the door behind him, my body tingling with arousal and an achy tiredness, as if I'd been exercising hard. I shivered with delight and realized everything was different now. Everything was different and this was indeed my summer.