1 comments/ 10972 views/ 0 favorites Jennifer's Obsession: Gone Fishing By: methylation About twenty minutes passed and, nothing. She began wondering whether she was being a little silly – it wouldn't be that unusual for someone to be visiting Andrew for one reason or another, she thought, but then he wasn't expecting me back until late in the evening because I'd planned on spending the Sunday day up in Castleton; the plan had changed because today, Jennifer was missing Andrew more than usual for a reason she couldn't quite fathom. She began slowly reversing the car up the road, peering at the front door all-the-while. As she neared, one of the oak trees temporarily obscured her view, giving her a second to check for other traffic as she rolled on by – it was clear. As the tree began to give way she felt her body tremble and her tummy felt as if she were on a roller-coaster ride – the front door was open. She quickly gathered herself, stopped the car, and slipped the gear-change into first. Her whole body trembled as she edged the car forward a little, trying to remain camouflaged as best she could without losing sight of the door. She glimpsed a figure stepping out from the darkness of the hall. She suddenly felt as if she'd been whipped away by a distant black hole in another universe and it seemed to be sucking the breath from her lungs and was tossing her about all ways making her feel sick and dizzy and breathless. It's... It's Hannah; I know it is, she thought, as her foot stamped on the accelerator. The car raced off at full throttle, pinning Jennifer to the seat as her head swam with a thousand different thoughts. She swerved down the avenue at break-neck speed, gasping for air and trying desperately to regain full control of her limbs. The panic set her heart pounding with such force she thought it might just burst out of her rib-cage, and she could feel herself slipping into a blackness and then suddenly back out again only for it to happen all over again. Now she was sure she was going to be sick and she'd broken out into a cold sweat. She was losing it, losing it fast. The car suddenly skidded to a halt at as she approached the end of the avenue. Her head was spinning, and spinning. The nausea, the trembling, the heart pounding, she couldn't go on, she just couldn't. The blackness came again, this time making her slump forward with her head thudding onto the steering wheel. At least she'd managed to stop in time. Seconds later, the pungent stench of burning rubber crept in through her half-opened window and worked as smelling salts, bringing her back to her just-shattered, miserable world. I'm going to die; I know I am, she thought, looking out ahead through half-opened, teary eyes, still feeling quite sick. At least this grogginess has slowed my mind down, she thought, as she placed a hand over her mouth in the hope it would stop her being sick – she didn't have the strength top get out of the car to be sick. A few minutes passed and her breathing gradually slowed to almost normal, but she still trembled and felt quite ill, although not as much as earlier. She shakily slipped the car into gear and rolled off out of the avenue, heading... anywhere but home. She began to settle down somewhat as the other traffic and the like stole her attention away from what she'd just witnessed; it was quite therapeutic, although the image of 'Hannah' leaving the house was fixed in her head like a giant bill-board which completely filled her mind. I suppose that's it for us now, she thought, as she began to leave the business of the built-up area for the tranquillity of the sparsely populated surrounding valleys. That's what all that bullshit was about the other day; has anyone called around and being worried for my safety, and making up that crap about the 'occult' – for fuck's sake, she thought, turning into the centuries-old country lanes. I knew it was bullshit when he told me; I fucking knew it, she continued, getting angry with herself for having been so gullible. He was fucking worried that Hannah was going to turn up for some reason... probably because she was stood up in Paris the other fucking week, she reasoned, as the memory of almost having caught him out only the other week flashed through her mind – the letter, the tickets, the story about Edward; it was all fucking bullshit, the bastard. It was all falling into place now, all making perfect sense. About twenty minutes later she'd twisted her way through the lanes and had ended up at Woodside Lake, so-called for obvious reasons (it was an old reservoir that hadn't been used as a water source for years now and had become a fishery, although in the summers you'd get all sorts up here swimming, rowing, sunbathing and the like). The car crunched over the gravel parking area and jerked to a halt, in between a jeep of some sort and a small van. Jennifer slowly lifted her hands from the steering wheel, looking at her palms as if she might find solace there somewhere. All of a sudden she grabbed at her hair, pulling it and wailing and sobbing at the same time as the snarled up mess in her mind found its way out into the world. Soon she was banging her hands at the steering wheel, kicking her feet out at the pedals, and her head was shaking back and forth with her mouth open, screaming, as if it might let the anguish inside escape outwards from its bodily confines and leave her in peace, only it didn't. The intensity of the mental and physical exertions soon ordered her body to flop forward over the wheel with her remaining drops of energy being used up in the form of sobbing, quietly. Her sobbing eventually became snivelling and she gradually felt herself drifting off into a light sleep, occasionally rousing to whimper a little before slipping away again. About an hour later she began to flicker and twitch like a bear in springtime stirring from its long hibernation. She opened her eyes and immediately closed them again as the dancing, afternoon sunlight on the surface of the lake ahead raced across the water and pierced her eyes like a thousand needles. She rubbed her eyes and tried again, but only opening them halfway this time; it seemed to work. She reached her arms out to her sides, stretching, and yawning at the same time. She rubbed her eyes once more before opening the door of her car and turning in her seat so her feet came to rest on the floor outside. She leant forward with her elbows coming to rest on her knees and held her hands to her face, trying to squeeze some life back into her sleepy features. She eventually dragged herself upright and stretched again, before trying to seek some pleasure in the beauty of a nearby cherry-blossom tree that had given up some its pink petals to the gravel of the car-park ground making it look like a scene from a wedding. She half-smiled as she shut the door of her car and began dragging herself out towards the lake. I feel so weak, she thought, fighting back a welling of tears that were jostling to escape from her still slightly sore eyes. And my mind... I think I'm going fucking crazy, she deduced, but not really caring if she did. It's all over for me, all fucking over, she said to herself, lazily plodding along the bank with her head hanging low and wishing for some sort of tragedy to strike, like a freak bolt of lightning, that would end her life and put an end to this sick, despair that was sure to be her fate from here-on-in. Nobody can live feeling like this... there's just NO FUCKING WAY... fuck, fuck, fuck, she thought, starting to think about running in the hope of leaving the feeling behind, only she knew it wouldn't work and besides, she didn't have the strength – she could barely manage to walk. She suddenly stopped and put her hand to her mouth again fearing she may be sick... but it passed and she continued to move. She couldn't really be bothered to walk but she couldn't sit and do nothing either; in fact she didn't know what to do about anything at all now. I'm going to die, I can feel it, I just fucking know it! You can't survive long like this, she thought as her head started to spin and her limbs had become so weak they trembled like leaves in a breeze. She quickly sat herself down on top of the grassy bank and pulled her knees up tight to her chest. She rocked gently as she looked out across the vast expanse of water, appearing as if she'd just come around from having had a lobotomy – she didn't seem aware of anything; herself or her surroundings. A half-hour passed and nothing; she hadn't budged, apart from the gentle rocking motion. Another half-hour passed and still nothing. Then, all of a sudden, like a robot that had just had its switch flicked onto 'go', she rose to her feet and strode purposely toward the pier-like structure that stood proud of the bank she'd been sitting on. A minute later, she stepped out onto the metal sheets that covered the hollowness of the interior of the stone-built structure and marched out toward its end. She clasped her hands tightly around the steel tubular fence that penned in the pier-top's surface and leant forward, peering downwards at the murky, green depths that started at about thirty feet below where she stood (the pier was a residual structure from the water's reservoir days – it contained piping and the like that once connected the lake to a pump-house that still stood at the bottom of a long and very steep bank behind the pier, although it was almost completely hidden now by trees that had grown up around it.) A cool breeze blew up from the surface of the water, causing her long, brunette hair to tumble about as if driving an open-top car, but she was oblivious to anything and everything as she stared through the glassy surface of the water at nothing, trying hard to imagine what it might feel like to be slowly sinking through the cold, dark depths. It'll put an end to all this, was the best she could muster as she straightened up and looked out across to the opposite bank some mile or so away but not really seeing anything despite there being a vast deciduous woodland running up from all sides occasionally broken by the odd meadow or two, except on the bank she was stood on. Almost as if she'd just received instruction from an outside source and one she was compelled to obey, she released her grip on the steel tubing she was holding, turned around, and began undressing. She whipped her vest-top up over her head, slipped her flip-flops from her feet, and tugged her joggers off. Stark naked, she leisurely folded her joggers up, then her vest-top, and finally, placed her flip-flops on top of the neatly folded clothes. Christ, I feel weird, she thought, as she stood upright. It's as if I'm looking at myself, through a dream or something, she puzzled, turning back to look out across the water again. Oh fuck, I'm losing touch with reality now, she thought, holding the palm of her left hand tightly to her forehead as if it might stop her mind from escaping the limits of her head. A sense of panic started to grow and swell inside her like an inflating balloon, causing her to breathe fast and shallow and her heart to race. She quickly reached out in front of herself and grabbed a hold of the metal fence, her mind suddenly and silently entranced by the light-footed twinkles of light racing haphazardly across the lake's surface; it slowed her breathing down somewhat but she could still feel the palpitations. Using her right foot she felt for the lower rung of the fence and pressed herself upwards, bringing her other foot alongside in the process. She lifted her right foot again, but to the top rung this time. Her left foot quickly followed and with both feet in place she let her hands slip free and snapped herself upright, wobbling a little as she did so. All was silent, except for the occasional whisper of a breeze; the absence of sound seemed to lend a touch of gravity to the scene, as if the world was holding its breath as it anxiously awaited Jennifer's next move. She looked up to the heavens and raised her hands high overhead. She gulped as tears ran down both cheeks, and her head swam with a cacophony of thoughts. The purest kind of despair began to fill her head like an aggressive, malignant tumour. "Bit of skinny dipping, is it love?" a man bellowed from down below, instantly dissipating the huge electrical charge that had, until now, been growing and growing in Jennifer's head. She felt herself almost jump out of her skin as all that pent-up electricity leapt from her head like a bolt of lightning, wobbling her as it discharged. She momentarily felt normal again and quickly squatted down low, gripping the fence tightly with her hands, and feet, but still wobbling nonetheless. She couldn't help but glance down at where the intruding voice had emanated from. She fleetingly eyed a heavily tanned, short-haired fellow, who was wearing a sleeveless jacket with a tee-shirt underneath, and who was sat in a dirty, old boat with what appeared to be fishing paraphernalia littered around him. She felt her legs kick out and her hands grasp at nothing but thin air as the only thing she saw now was the clear, blue skies overhead. She felt her mouth open up wide as a wall of Victorian stone-work flashed past her side. Her heart leapt from the palpitations of only a moment ago to the beat of an angry jungle-tribe's war drums. She saw her hair flap and wave in front of her eyes, sometimes obscuring the stone-work, as she tried desperately to force the scream out of her mouth but had to make do with a barely audible gargle. Her body felt as if she were floating, and she was, downwards at a considerable speed and in a completely undignified manner. She watched her hands reach out and pointlessly grab at the sky, seemingly in slow motion. Whack! Her eyes snapped shut with the impact - it was like being hit from behind by a moving bus as her bare skin stingingly slapped against the deceptively hard, watery surface. Her lungs had no choice but to violently expel their contents and she was forced to curl up in a foetal-like position as a cold blanket of water wrapped itself around her as tight as a lover's embrace. Her body began wildly flapping its limbs as the instinct to survive hit red-alert. Her opened eyes glimpsed straggles of her hair floating about her face, broken up by whooshes of bubbles. The background was a murky green, as it had appeared from above, but now she could also see rays of sunlight diving through the depths like spears. Her head spun to the opposite side as she frantically kicked in an effort to propel herself upwards toward the light and something touched her thigh. Her flooded eyes strained to see what appeared to be an eel, vertically bending and wriggling alongside her, right next to her shoulder – it was a weed. She kicked again and again with her arms flapping as if she were a sparrow trying to evade a hawk as every last ounce of her body overflowed with fright. Not only her head but her torso too broke through the suffocating surface of her fluid surroundings. Her mouth spouted water high into the life-giving air like a geyser, before gravity thumped her back down until only her head stood proud of the lake's surface. She coughed and spluttered, stealing gasps of air when she could as she flapped and rolled, desperately heading towards the safety that the sloping bank of stone offered. The water eventually leaked away from her eyes, restoring her vision to normal, although the amount of adrenalin coursing through her body was almost certainly abnormal. She splashed and crawled her way around the mossy, stone walls of the pier, eager to lift her body clear of the deceptively cold water and all that it harboured. A pair of warm hands grabbed at her cold flesh and she embarrassedly yielded, letting them help heave her aboard the small vessel from which they came; a rowing boat. He heaved and she scrambled, causing the boat to list heavily on its right side. She managed to claw her torso up over the right-hand rear of the little, wooden structure. The palm of a hand dug deep against the flesh on the back of her right thigh and heaved, helping her cold, naked body to sprawl aboard in a rather unlady-like fashion. "Bloody hell, love; I don't think you meant to do that, did you?" her aide said, tongue-in-cheek as he sat himself down on a plank that stretched from side-to-side across the middle of the boat. Jennifer sat herself on the small seating area at the boat's rear, trying to restore some dignity to her hair and doing the best she could to hide her bits. "You might wanna get some practise in before you go trying to dive off something like that again; going on that effort," he said, smiling to himself rather than at Jennifer. Jennifer looked across to him with raised eyebrows, half smiling, before her face wrinkled up in a tearful, sobbing, outward display of her inner self. "Bloody hell; I was only joking love," he said, as he jumped to his feet and rocked the boat somewhat in the process. He bent over, reaching down to her with open arms. Reflex-like, she reached out to him and wrapped her arms around his back and pressed her face onto his shoulder, stifling her sobs. His right hand patted her back softly, as if she were a child who'd just grazed their knees. "I'm sorry luv, but I was only joking when I said you couldn't dive," he muttered, feeling a little awkward with holding her young, wet, naked body so close. Jennifer managed a sort of laugh mixed with a sob at his suggestion of having upset her over not being able to dive. "There we are; see, it's not that bad, is it?" he said, reassuringly. His words momentarily stopped Jennifer from breathing. I'm not actually going to die, am I? That's just STUPID! I'm not going to fucking die; it just feels like that, at the moment, but I'm not really. It's all a matter of time, that's all... a period of readjustment... it'll all settle down. After all, change is the only constant, and this is just another of those changes. Admittedly, it's not quite as simple as that because this is a BIG fucking change, but you just have to deal with it, move on... that's the challenge of life; adapting and surviving in this ever-changing world we live in. Some make the changes... some don't – survival of the fittest, and I'm FIGHTING fucking fit. Yeah, it's NOT that bad; just another chapter in the big, old book of life. The blackness Jennifer had felt began to brighten, not much, but enough to see the source of the light and that was where she intended on heading, straight toward it. Her arms flexed as she tightened her grip on the saviour whose words of wisdom served to heal her like a witch-doctor's spell. The image of that woman leaving her house suddenly flew from her mind like a frightened pigeon as she concluded that the 'woman' could have been absolutely anybody, certainly not anyone special at all; it was merely a reflection of how they just weren't right for each other. She glanced out to her side, looking across the water's glistening surface, pondering further. How strange is that? We've conquered just about everything in our world for us humans to stand tall at the top of the tree and yet our greatest enemies, the ones that pose the greatest threat to our very existence, are each other. We can't help but damage each other and those around us... with a few exceptions of course - as with everything - but not many. I suppose that's something we'll never conquer or control... is each other... no matter how advanced we become or however much control we exercise over our environment, we'll always be the pawns in nature's game – survival of the fittest. Well... The fisherman interrupted. "Okay now luv?" he enquired, as he pushed on her shoulders and held her steady about a foot or so away from her, trying to make a point of not looking at her full but pert breasts. "Never better," she said, looking him in the eye and feeling as if she'd just woken from a deep, refreshing slumber. She watched his green eyes drift downwards and onto her breasts where they lingered for a moment before snatching themselves upwards and onto her face again. Jennifer's Obsession: Gone Fishing "Seems like the water was cold; better get you to your clothes," he said, attempting to keep a straight face but not really managing it. Jennifer laughed at his cheeky remark, causing him to laugh with her as he sat himself onto his seat positioning the oars in the rowlocks. Jennifer placed her hands behind her back, gripping the stern of the small boat with her hands, and leant back letting the still hot, late afternoon sun beat down onto her cold, bare breasts. The fisherman heaved his oars against the water with a long, strong stroke, launching the bows of the boat high in the air. The suddenness of his forceful stroke saw Jennifer jolt backwards, causing her grip to tighten and she had to spread her legs wide to steady herself. "Oh, hello," the fisherman said, as his gaze darted straight between her opened legs, eyeing the pouting, genital display. Jennifer felt his eyes burn into her bare mound hotter than the sun ever could, and she felt her cold, shrivelled lips swell and suddenly hang loose. He looked into her blue eyes that he could swear were twinkling with naughtiness. She looked at his denim-covered crotch, and then into his leaf-green eyes. Bang! An abrupt crashing noise stole away the developing tension as the bows of the boat bumped up onto several stones of the sloping bank, jolting them both. "Wait here, I'll get your clothes for you," he blurted, as he leapt clear of the boat and onto the bank before she had a chance to respond. Jennifer smiled as she watched him hastily stumble and tumble his way up the bank like a drunken lynx, towards the pier. Within seconds he'd raced back to the boat. He flung her clothes at her as he leapt back onboard, the force of which sent them scuttling outwards with splashes of water spraying up at the sides. Jennifer placed her clothes down in a heap on the floor of the boat, except for her joggers. The fisherman got in position and heaved hard on the one oar whilst holding the other clear of the water. The boat listed heavily on its one side as it spun around, facing out towards the centre of the lake. "I think you want me to have a go of your rod," she said, looking at his crotch again as she unzipped the side pocket of her joggers and delved inside to retrieve her phone, whilst the fisherman rowed his oars like a crazed Viking possessed with the idea of plundering something or other. Jennifer read the one received message on her phone; it had asked where she was. Jennifer quickly replied with 'gone fishing', before switching her phone off and zipping it back up in her joggers which she threw to the floor with the rest of her clothes. "You're not going to let me go ashore until I've had a go of your rod, are you?" she said, picking up the bottom half of an unassembled rod from the floor of the boat and smiling wickedly. The fisherman heaved and heaved, propelling them further and further away from the bank as Jennifer handled the butt of the rod in a way that had nothing at all to do with fishing. "How do I hold it?" she asked, lifting her feet to the rim of the boat and opening her legs wider, squashing the butt of the rod between her moist, pussy lips. The fisherman looked but didn't reply; he just kept heaving those oars as like an Olympic medallist. As the boat found its rhythm and began to cut through the lake as if it were a motor boat, Jennifer dropped the rod down and let herself lie back further, lazily trailing her hands in the water as the fisherman heaved and sweated and puffed, driving them further and further out into the huge lake – the fisherman was definitely going to plunder something and it certainly wasn't a small village. Several minutes passed and Jennifer felt the boat level out as its bows settled gently into the very deep, green water that now surrounded them by hundreds of yards in all directions. She sat herself almost upright, resting her hands behind herself as she did earlier, and watched the sinewy fisherman pull the oars onboard. "Oh God, are you going to make me use your rod now?" she pleaded, in a way that said she was never, never, going to make it as an actress. The fisherman's smile grew wider as he leant forward and tickled between her open legs with his fingertips. Mmm, like to role play hey, he thought, trying to suppress the urge to just whip his cock out and ram it into her hole. "That's right, if you wanna get out of this lake, you'll do exactly as I tell you," he said, joining in the game and in quite a convincing manner. Jennifer looked around the lake as a sort of token gesture. "It looks like I'm going to have to do exactly as you say, you bastard – I could never swim that far," she said, placing her hands on the knees of her opened legs while he freely tickled at her. The fisherman's eyes raced back and forth between her breasts and her pussy as his lips pursed while letting out a low groan. What a fucking catch, he thought, the boys are never going to believe me in a million fucking years. Jennifer looked at the rough, tanned hand that was tickling at her lips. I've got to let him do what he wants; just let him do it and he'll let me go, she thought, as her head slowly tilted backwards and her mouth opened. She enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her face and the gentle rocking of the boat as she let the fisherman fiddle with her lips. Her body tightened a little as she felt a single finger burrow into her unprotected mound. Just let him do it, she thought, biting her bottom lip. The fisherman placed his other hand firmly on her right breast, squeezing at it as if he were milking it. He looked between her legs, watching his finger slide in and out of her, then at the breast he held, stealing a quick suck at the nipple, and then at her face as he unashamedly fondled her naked, submissive body. Jennifer leant back further, thrusting her mound upwards as the instinctive urge to fuck at whatever was penetrating her took over. She thrust herself onto his finger in time with the sound of the water lapping at the boat's sides. Why can't you just let me go? Why have I got to let you do things to me first? she thought, off-loading the shame of enjoying what was happening. The hands pulled away from her body, forcing her eyes to open immediately; the brightness stung a little as she watched him sit back onto his seat. He tapped his thigh, gesturing for her to sit there. "Suppose I have to really, you're not going to take me ashore until you've done what you want with me," she said, wobbling somewhat as she unsteadily rose to her feet and stepped toward the grinning fisherman. She stepped, front-on, to between his legs with her wet mound an inch or so from his deeply lined face that lent a distinguished air of, quite handsome, maturity to him. "Where is it you want me?" she said, placing her hands on his shoulders. "Exactly as you are, that'll do," he said, as he pulled her open with his fingers and buried his tongue in her. Jennifer smiled over gritted teeth as she felt his warm tongue poke inside and snake about as if looking for something. Jennifer reacted by cupping his head in her hands and pulling him into her, hard. She looked out across the lake, at nothing in particular while she let, only because she had no choice in the matter, the fisherman's tongue lick and fuck at her now heavily swollen mound. She could feel herself open up under the pressure of his licking and every lick sent a little message from her mound to her brain that simply said 'pleasure' in big bright lights in her mind, only she could feel it in her pussy at the same time which she couldn't quite understand, but didn't really care either. And every so often he'd stop licking and poke his tongue in as hard and far as he could, tasting her wet, fleshy insides and filling her like a cock. He knew she liked the penetration part because every time he did it she squeezed his head harder. "Please stop doing these rude things to me; I don't deserve it," she pleaded, as she yanked his head clear of her, making his snaking tongue slip free in the process. The feel of his tongue leaving her body made her want to push him back into her but she didn't. As he looked up at her, she tried her best at putting on a puppy-dog face. He callously rammed a finger into her from the rear, almost causing her knees to buckle. "I'll decide what you fucking deserve," he bellowed, grabbing her right hip with his left hand and pulling her down onto his thigh, keeping his finger in her all-the-while. She put her left arm around his shoulders as she sat, pulling his torso into her so that his face pressed against her breast. He automatically took up her nipple in his mouth while he savaged her pussy with his rough finger-work from the rear. "Please...," she cried, bouncing about helplessly on his knee as he sucked and fucked at her. He moved his left hand from her hip and began fumbling with his jeans, trying to get the real rod out for Jennifer. He struggled for about a minute or so before realising he's going to have to leave her alone for a second if he wanted to get his cock out. He slipped his finger free of its fleshy home and rose to his feet, with Jennifer sliding off his knee in the process. She began to stand too . "Stay down there," he shouted, as if hollering an order to a dog and using his wet finger to point towards the floor of the boat. With head bowed, Jennifer dropped to her knees. "Okay," she whispered, keeping her head stooped as if she were in the presence of some supreme lord of everything. She saw his jeans crumple in a heap around the ankles of the brown, leather walking boots he was wearing. "Open your mouth, bitch," he ordered. "And fucking look up," he demanded. She slowly lifted her head, mouth obediently opened wide. She wished there was another guy onboard – her swollen mound felt as if it could have done with a cock banging into her from behind while she followed her orders. She looked up at his face but couldn't help seeing the bright-red, shiny head of his cock bobbing about her face, occasionally brushing against her lips and tapping her on the nose. He was holding it at its hilt with both hands and judging by the size of it, he needed to be using both hands to restrain a beast of such magnitude. It's like a big juicy plum, she thought as she fleetingly eyed his engorged tip, fighting the urge to lick her lips. She sat motionless, except for placing her hands around the backs of his knees to steady herself and was looking up at the face of the man dominating her – his expression made Jennifer think of the word 'possessed'; his eyes were all crazy and his mouth was twitching at the sides. He looked down at her opened mouth and poked his long, thick shaft inside; the head of his length was so swollen it was quite a squeeze to get it in. Jennifer fought the urge to work his meat and just sat still with her mouth wide. He poked at the inside of her cheeks, smiling half-crazily, as he watched the flesh of her face protrude as a result of his genital exploration of her mouth's innards. Jennifer cursed herself for having let her tongue briefly lap at him. "Suck it bitch... suck it like a lollipop," he said. Jennifer's whole body ached with relief as her hand snatched at his length and her mouth closed tightly around him, sucking and licking what was inside her, while her hand wanked at what was outside. She kept her eyes on his face, studying his delight and deriving some for herself in the process. He took a hold of her hair. Jennifer felt her mound momentarily pulse as she appreciated her helplessness. He snatched her head back hard, pulling her clean off his shaft and setting it free to bob about in the cool breeze blowing across the lake. "Lick it," he ordered. Jennifer strained against his hold to place her tongue at the base of his cock where it joined his sack, and licked her way, slowly, all the way up its long, thick length to its bulbous head where she tongued it all over as if lapping at her favourite ice-cream. "That's it, bitch; you do as you're fucking well told," the fisherman snarled, his face twisting up as his sense of control massaged and enhanced his feelings of manliness. Jennifer's tongue continued to work its way up and down his now twitching length, her delicate folds of pussy flesh squashing and slurping against each other as her torso moved. "Now stick it back in your mouth and suck... and then get to your feet, but you make sure you keep on sucking my cock, bitch," he said, releasing the hair he held in his right hand but keeping a firm grip with his left. She carefully got to her feet, keeping the boat as steady as she could and maintaining her oral grip on his bone-like length of genital flesh. His right hand pressed against the soft flesh of her right hip, forcing her to shuffle around until she came to be sucking him from a bent over, side-on position. No sooner had her feet stopped moving, the fisherman's wandering hand slipped from her hip and over the silky-soft skin of her buttocks, his fingers reaching under and between them. Her head suddenly shot all the way down his long length as he, without warning, stuffed a finger into her wet hole from behind. The palm of his hand began slapping into her firm buttocks as his finger repeatedly pierced her from the rear. Jennifer had to wrap her left arm around his back to stop her from tumbling head over heels into the lake as she loyally sucked his swollen cock like a hooker on a bonus. The fisherman looked out across the lake, appreciating the sensation of a woman's touch on the one hand, and enjoyed the feel of greedily abusing her hole from behind on the other. His head filled with an airy quality as he glimpsed what it must feel like to be in total control and do just as he pleased. Jennifer sneaked a peek at his face, which was now directed towards the ether above, and a shiver tore through her body causing her tunnel to suddenly accommodate three of his fingers which he furiously slapped in and out of her as he snapped himself back down from the sky above. Using his grip on her hair he tugged her head from his cock. She watched it spring vertical as her head snatched clear; it didn't come to rest but twitched and bobbed as if it were a water diviner and with them being on a lake... "Bend over the stern, and don't dare question your captain's orders; do you hear?" he said, pushing her towards the rear, causing them both to stagger as the boat listed violently from side to side. She did as she was told and got onto her knees, gripping the rear of the boat. Her head hung over the boat's stern and she looked down into the greeny-black depths, patiently waiting to discover her fate. She felt him clambering between her legs, his hardness poking at her buttocks. "Please, don't stick it in me... please. I'll suck you off instead; just don't stick it in me," she pleaded, her head dizzying with endorphins. A hand slapped onto her left buttock, the stinging of it making her jump a little. Then she felt a hand fumbling about between her legs, trying to hold her lips apart while a large cock prodded and probed for its entry portal. He was close to penetrating her; she knew because there was a sudden increase in vaginal exudate that tickled her somewhere inside her pussy and caused her lips to engorge and make them very floppy indeed, making them a very poor barrier to penetration. "Don't do this to me, please... think about what you're doing," she begged, turning her head to see the look on his face as he deliberately denied her wishes. A tremble quickly climbed the ladder of her spine and culminated in a head shiver as his length pushed firmly into her, filling her unprotected tunnel like a screw in a pin-hole. His other hand slapped onto her other buttock as he drilled deeper and deeper into her crouched, subservient body. Her head buzzed as if she'd just sneezed. "Oh God, you're fucking me... stop it... please," she implored, holding on tight to the boat's rear. She felt him withdraw; it took some time. She felt her pussy lips begin to come together as his bulbous end retreated, and then they tore open again as his weapon again drove mercilessly into her. "Ohhh, no, stop it... please stop fucking me," she said, her head rushing as his thighs slapped into her rear and bumped her forwards a little. "Shut your fucking mouth; you aint going anywhere 'til I fucked you good and proper," he growled, squeezing at her small hips as he began to slip in and out of her in a smooth, piston-like fashion. Her eyelids fluttered at the thought and feel of him defying her, and ruthlessly fucking at her defenceless hole. She wanted to plead with him to stop fucking her but knew she just had to take it - as he'd told her - so she did, through gritted teeth. She had to brace herself, hard, as he stepped up the pace and force of his 'unwanted' invasion of her body. She let herself lean a little more forward as he pounded her, letting her hanging breasts dangle over the boat's edge. Every thrust sent her diving forward, making her nipples dip into the cold waters, giving her a shiver to match the one she felt in her burrow every time he plundered it. He shagged her faster, harder, deeper, rougher. The fisherman studied her body as it shuddered back and forth and back and forth under his steam. The bows of the boat began to lift as he shagged her further and further over the stern. Soon her breasts were permanently submerged and swung slowly back and forth against their watery climate. Her face suddenly chilled as it joined her breasts in the lake and she felt the large, hard length between her legs quickly rip free and leave her hole momentarily agape. As she squirmed in retreat an arm quickly curled under her body, heaving at her waist and yanking her backwards. Her face, and breasts, lifted clear and high and the boat splashed flat onto the lake's surface as they both splashed flat onto the boat's floor with the rower's plank digging into their sides. They both laughed for a moment, before Jennifer reached around herself and gripped a hold of his manhood. The fisherman rolled onto his back with his backside coming to rest on the plank and his hands falling down beneath him, supporting his upper body. Jennifer held his cock so that it pointed skywards like a rocket about to be launched, and wanked at the venous structure while she got onto her feet. Hunched over him, she stepped her one leg over his body, wanking his tool all-the-while, and smiling contentedly. "Now don't move a fucking muscle," she said, switching roles as she sat her bare body down on his thighs and holding his cock an inch or so in front of her crack. "Now I'm going to use your cock, whether you like it or not; either way, you'd better lay there quietly until I've finished with you," she told him, lifting her small weight from his prostrate body. He didn't say a word but she felt him, through her hand, get that little bit harder. She shuffled her feet forward by an inch or so, held his swollen red helmet between her sloppy pussy lips, and slowly sat herself down, stabilising herself on his rigid pole. The fisherman had watched her fleshy lips sit snugly around the head of his cock and had studied his length as it gradually disappeared inside her. She pressed the palms of her hands down onto his flat, hard belly, and began riding him like the 'Gold Cup' was at stake. His mouth twitched at the sight of his tool appearing out of, and disappearing into, her bisected crotch. Then his attention darted to her heaving, bouncing, jiggling globes and he wished her bullet-hard nipples were in his hungry mouth. "Don't dare look at me when I'm pleasuring myself with your cock," she hissed, riding him faster. The fisherman twisted his head to one side and looked out to his right, across the lake. Jennifer bounced and rode harder and faster, stopping sometimes just to wriggle on him. The boat jerked back and forth as she slid about his pole, extracting as much penile pleasure as she could from him. She got wilder and wilder still. The fisherman's pole hardened and strained inside her as she heaved and pulled and twisted and rode. Jennifer's Obsession: Gone Fishing Jennifer watched the fisherman, lying still as she had told him to, and looking away from her, as she had told him to do, and fucked his cock ever more rampant. The fisherman sensed her urgency with which she now rode him with. He disobediently launched himself upright, and with both hands squeezed at her breasts. He squashed them together, holding them so that her nipples stood out between the gaps between his thumbs and forefingers, and madly sucked and licked at them both. "How dare... you... help yourself... to me," she screamed between groans and gasps. Her neck started to resemble a road-map as the veins in her neck filled to almost bursting with unadulterated ecstasy, and her head started to pull back as if someone was behind her heaving at her long, brunette hair. The fisherman's head bobbed up and down like one of his floats when a fish bites as he chased the moving nipples with his mouth. She grabbed a hold of his head, rubbing his face in all directions across her gripped breasts as she began almost leaping up and down his long, pleasurable length. "Fuck my cunt, FUCK MY CUNT," she yelled out across the lake as her spine went into spasm, forcing her tummy out at him. He did his best to thrust his pinned down pelvis into her gaping, aching pussy. "Ahhhhhhhhh," she cried out as he jittered beneath her, fucking at her mound. Her body flexed with the strength of ten men before her muscles began to gradually loosen as the dam gates in her mound burst forth, allowing the pleasure it had selfishly tried to contain to flood through her body. The fisherman held her now flaccid body tight against his as her mind left her body to transcend to that cloudy place known as bliss. "Mmmm... " she groaned quietly as her head rolled from side to side, her expression completely stupefied with fulfilment. My fucking turn, the fisherman snarled in his mind, looking down at the quite closely trimmed pussy that was wrapped around his shaft. He locked his hands behind her back and carefully rose to his feet. Her arms, head, and legs hung loose from her body. He began to softly work his cock in and out of her limp body; eliciting some barely audible murmurs form her as he did so. His gaze fixed on the point of entry into her body. Her limp body lolled and rolled like the boat on the lake as he began fucking her with a little more intent. He managed to drag his eyes up from her opened mound to her breasts which were flopping and rolling also as he shagged her unknowing pussy. He notched it up a gear and began smacking into her, sending her limbs flying about the boat. The boat began to to-and-fro a little too much for the fisherman's comfort. Fucking fuck, he thought as he begrudgingly placed his resting angel down on her back. He had a quick fuck at her before he got off and turned her over. He heaved her head and shoulders up over the stern. She remained limp and seemingly unknowing. He led over her face-down body, placing the palms of his hands flat on the stern plank that Jennifer's shoulders rested on (her head hung over the boat's edge). He poked his cock between her buttocks, seeking the tunnel in which to bury himself. He couldn't get it. Jennifer slipped her right hand down between her legs and gripped his bursting end, yanking it to her entrance. He smacked into her, watching her limp body shake and bounce under his penetrating influence. He looked down the gap between the front of his body and the back of hers, watching her buttocks quiver as he pounded her hard from behind. "How does it feel, bitch, having my cock fuck your cunt?" he queried, but not really listening for the answer. "Aint got much to say for yourself now, have you?" he continued, increasing the rate at which he penetrated her spent body. Her only movements were the ones made by his. He quickly took his weight solely on his left hand, and with his right he snatched at her hair, twisting her head around on its side. Such a pretty girl, he thought, breathing hard over her face as he savaged her from behind. He stole another look at her buttocks and at his cock slipping in between them. He had to let her hair go as the need to support himself on both hands suddenly became quite desperate. "Fucking hell... here it is," he muttered in a very low voice. He continued to watch her tight buttocks quivering as he invaded her limp body. He suddenly retreated clear of her. Jennifer's eyes immediately opened, and then she felt a long, hard cock jam tight between her buttocks, like a hot-dog. Jennifer clenched herself, her buttocks half-squashing his meaty length. He began thrusting between her, watching his swollen cock race back and forth her tight trench, over and over. Jennifer felt the stern of the boat push downwards and a spattering of hot juice decorated her back as if it were a work of modern art. Another thrust and another spattering. As he pulled back for the next, she quickly flicked her hand behind her back and found his bulb. He pushed forward, ejecting yet another load but not reaching the canvas this time; it exploded over Jennifer's little hand. As quick as a flash her hand was at her mouth, smearing his love all over her lips and tongue, tasting him. The fisherman glanced at what she was doing and in a few quick, erratic shudders he'd completely exhausted his palette, covering her back from buttocks to head with his penile paint. The boat shook again as he dropped his weight onto it, falling to rest alongside Jennifer. They placed their arms around each other and gently drifted about the lake as their minds gently drifted about heaven. About a half-hour later Jennifer sat up onto her knees and stretched. Her eyes gradually opened to see the sun setting on the horizon just above the tree-tops. The fisherman stirred and did the same. "That was fucking great, luv," he said, reaching into one of the many breast pockets of his sleeveless jacket and producing a packet of cigarettes, with his large but soft cock still on view. Jennifer declined his offer of a smoke and took up the rower's position at the middle of the boat, still naked despite a chilling of the air now that the sun had almost gone. The fisherman snuggled into the stern, contentedly puffing his cigarette while Jennifer readied the oars and began rowing. The fisherman fondled himself with his free hand as he watched the young, taut body work at the oars. No-one's going to fucking believe me when I tell em, he thought, taking another puff and glancing down at his semi-hard cock, wishing he had one of those mobile camera-phones he'd seen advertised on the TV. Minutes later they bumped onto the stone bank they'd set out from, and the orange glow of his cigarette flew ashore in time with the gentle crash. Jennifer gathered her clothes together and quickly stepped from the boat onto the bank, the force of her step setting the fisherman adrift again. Not a bad day's fishing, overall, he thought, musing over the unpredictability of life as he took a final look at a body he knew he'd be very unlikely to fuck again, in this life at least. She turned, holding her clothes to her front, and watched the boat slowly float off into the quickly darkening evening. As she started her car Jennifer noticed a tiny light amidst the blackness of the lake – it was the fisherman lighting another cigarette, she concluded. She half-smiled to herself as she reversed from between the two vehicles and then shot off down the lane like a rally-driver, heading anywhere but home. She'd driven aimlessly for about an hour and found herself cruising down a desolate coastal road. All she'd glimpsed lately, by the lights of her car, were a few trees and the edges of green fields where fern had started to grow, but it was all becoming increasingly sandy with each passing minute and there were no more house lights to be seen, anywhere. As she slowed and swerved around a sheep with its lamb, which the noise of her approaching engine had probably disturbed, the reflective flash of a road-sign caught her eye; it read 'Stone Cove' and had an arrow beneath that pointed to the right. She veered around a sharp left bend and turned off onto a road that dropped off sharply on the right. The sight of the moonlight twinkling on the distant horizon, where the ocean met the starry sky, kept dragging her attention from the winding, pot-holed road, giving her the occasional fright as her driver-side tyres crunched dangerously close to the road's cliff-like edge that was strangely lacking a barrier of any sort. I wonder how many people have driven over the edge doing that; there must be a few, she wondered. She eventually made it to level ground in one piece where the road opened up into a sort of pebbled car-park. She drove in a circle and decided to park as far behind the one and only piece of vegetation she could see; it was some sort of large shrub. She switched her engine off and sat a while, listening to her tummy rumble. She knew she should eat but the very thought of it made her feel nauseous, as did the feeling of having not eaten anything. I wish I could just feel like I did yesterday, she thought, shaking her head as if she might shake the turmoil free of her head – it didn't work. She flung the car door open and a gush of sea air swirled in, filling her car; it was quite cold, but embracing too. She stepped out and looked across the ocean; its vastness giving her the creeps but in a pleasant kind of way. The roar of waves crashing onto rocks filled her ears and the salty air filled her lungs, making her feel better already. She strode around to the car's rear, taking in her surroundings as she did so. It's so big, it's more like a bay than a cove, she thought, as she reached into the boot of her car and rummaged through the travel-bag for her favourite baggy jumper she knew she'd packed for her stay up at Joanne's. She found it, locked the car up, and headed over to the nearby gargantuan rocks that formed the shore line to the left of the bay, if you were facing out towards the sea that is (there were rocks on the right side too but they were a long, long way off – probably a good mile's walk across a beach which was also a river's mouth and happened to be the only part of the bay that wasn't penned in by cliff faces; the river had carved itself a flatter route through which it could relinquish its fresh water cargo to the saline sea). As she crunched over the pebbles she pulled the woolly jumper over her head; its feeling of cosiness and snugness ironically making her shiver. The texture underfoot forced her to return to the car and quickly exchange her flip-flops for something a little more appropriate - her trainers. All set, she smiled heartily to herself as she clambered onto the surface of an enormous rock fairly close to the sea's edge, glancing down into the black of the sheer, deep crevices that led between the rock she was on and the others around it; it was lucky for her that the almost full moon tonight was yielding enough light to see where she was going – it lent a cold-blue look to everything around her, making it feel as if she'd just transported to the coast of Alaska. She clambered over the jags and crags like a stealthy commando on a midnight beach invasion with the spray of the sea enlivening her and driving her forward. She didn't really know where she was going or why she was doing it; she just was. She was on all fours when the sound of a woman's scream raced over her head, mingled in with the rumbles and crashes and roars of the ocean's relentless efforts to smash the defiant, steadfast rocks. She held her position steady as if she'd just been suddenly frozen, and listened carefully for any further 'non-sea' sounds. A crash, a splatter, a whistle of wind; that was it. It's nothing, she thought. She moved on, strangely enjoying her late-evening pursuit. A couple of rocks later she began negotiating her way down the craggy face of an age-old rock which had at its base a sandy footing. She leapt the last metre or so, her feet thumping into the sand of the cosy, tiny beach that nature had created. The monumental stones huddled around it like loyal sentinels protecting their prized, small patch of land, except from a sea-bound invasion that is. Jennifer walked across the five metres or so of sand to the water's edge. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and inhaled deeply, stimulating her brain with the scent of everything around her; the sea-spray, the fishy-smelling sand, the sea-weed, the wet rocks and all the life that firmly clung to them. She skipped back, giggling, as the cold, salt water sneakily tried to take a hold of her feet. Smiling, she scanned the ground around the base of the rocks for a stone that might serve as a seat for her; she found one. She sat herself down, thinking how she was ready and very willing to eat now and cursed herself for not having nipped into that fish-and-chip shop she'd passed when she drove through that little village about ten miles back from where she'd left the car. Her hair lifted as a sudden gush or air blew over her at the same time a wave exploded onto a rock to her right, creating a million fine drops of water that welcomingly rained down on her. She jumped to her feet, but not because of the temporary rain the sea had made, but because she'd heard that noise again; the scream. Her isolation told her to shuffle into one of the many passageways that separated the mammoth stones. Using hands as her eyes she felt her way through the dark, rocky void that the moonlight, strong as it was, failed to pervade. She came to a stop at the stone's rear where she could peer down through the dank, black cavern she'd just negotiated to where the light of the moon lit the small, private beach as if it were some sort of miniature fantasy land. She glanced up above, feeling quite confident that the stone's height would render her invisible to someone peering down the crevice, as she herself had done earlier, not that anyone would have reason to peer down that particular crevice but she just had to reassure herself. The scream came louder this time and was followed by a dull thudding sound. Whatever or whoever it is must be close now, Jennifer nervously concluded - she could hear it clearly over the roaring and smashing of the sea and the whistling and whining of the wind. Jennifer crouched down, feeling that making herself smaller would make her safer. A figure flashed passed her narrow window of view. Holy fuck, she thought, as she inadvertently started to hold her breath at the same time as she sensed a quivering feeling in her legs and which was spreading quickly. There was another dull thud, but a little louder this time. Jennifer's heart began to race and she felt as if there was something stuck in her throat causing her to feel quite sick. A bigger figure flashed past and Jennifer felt the quiver that had started out in her legs reach her chin and a pressure developed behind her eyes as if she were about to cry, and she still hadn't breathed. A high-pitched scream raced down the passageway - "Nooooooooo" - filling it like water and smashing into Jennifer with the force of a tidal-wave. Its impact sent a shiver down Jennifer's spine so quickly it almost tipped her over onto the wet, sandy floor of her hide-out. She swallowed whatever it was that was stuck in her throat and shakily rose upright, holding against the rocks for support... XXX Next week – The Witness