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The wedding was, as countless guests had commented, “simply lovely.” My sister had wed her boyfriend of five years at a mountain resort in Montana in the late afternoon sun, and I have to admit, it was beautiful. I dislike formal weddings, as does my sister, and her outdoorsy touch was everywhere: no bridesmaids’ dresses, no veil, no predictable wedding music. Just two young kids getting hitched in the view of the mountains and their friends, with cocktails before the ceremony—a nice touch, that.
Unfortunately, all the lovey-kissy that goes hand in hand with weddings contrasted starkly with my own relationship. It had been a tough year for me and my girlfriend Kayla, and it was most painful at the wedding, because when we received news of the engagement, our relationship was at its peak. We were thought by all to be next in line for the altar, and we talked openly about it—where and how we’d want to do it, who would be invited, what a crazy institution marriage is, how we’d never want to face divorce. Only now, a year later, was it clear that we would likely never be married, and were in fact headed in the opposite direction. The wedding felt to me, and I think to her as well, like a last obligation, a heavy farewell to what we could have been.
It was a combination of factors that had led to my dissatisfaction—her increasing prudishness as our relationship deepened emotionally, her general melancholy and need to be a savior to her tortured lot of friends, most of whom wanted a reliable shoulder to cry on. She was increasingly depressed, and my attempts to break that cycle succeeded, but only for a few hours. If that makes me sound insensitive, well, you try it. She had become unavailable emotionally, and the sex, which used to leave us both devastated and groaning into each other’s flesh and hair, was all but gone. I had taken to masturbating alone once a day just to keep my own head straight.
After the ceremony, Kayla and I went back to our cabin to grab a sweater. She looked good in her summer dress, and we’d been around so many people for the past few days; it was a rare moment alone. As she bent over her suitcase, I stepped up behind her and began to massage her ass, sliding the edge of my palm between her cheeks.
“You know, we don’t have to rush right back,” I said softly.
She straightened up, sweater in hand.
“Your mom is going to want to take pictures.”
“Oh hell, they can wait. Just a quickie,” I said, as I tried to pull her back to me.
“I really think we should get going. Maybe later?” she said, pulling away and grabbing her purse.
And that’s how it had been. Maybe I got spoiled along the way, but as a 31 year-old who had thankfully experienced several long-term relationships and many hook-ups, I was used to not having to initiate all the time, and asking for sex just seemed gross. Emasculating, even. Honestly, and at the risk of sounding like—oh, whatever. I consider myself attractive, and meeting women has always felt natural. Maybe it’s having younger sisters: you get to know what upsets a woman, and how to communicate your thoughts to them. Jesus. I hate explaining this. Let’s just say that I have no comprehension about men who complain that they never get head, or that they get nervous approaching a strange woman. Women want sex just like men do—they just don’t always express those wants in the same way.
As we strolled back to the reception/dinner, I was pissed, and all the more on edge for not having had sex, but I marveled at the surroundings. Pine trees and glistening lakes were a welcome change from NYC, where I’d been for the past several years. I was excited for my sister and her new husband, who is a genuinely good guy.
Back at the reception, I did all the required stuff: dance, toast, laugh, drink; but I did most of it without Kayla. She had found a few people to talk to, and seemed to be enjoying herself. She gave me bahis firmaları a nice kiss after my toast, but for the most part, I was free to chat up my sister, her husband and her friends. Which is how I met Audrey.
Audrey was a friend of my sister’s I’d heard about but never met. She was one of her hippy friends, I thought, but upon meeting her, I realized that she didn’t fit the stereotype. She was maybe 5’5″, with medium blonde hair, a cute, round face with a great smile. What kept catching my eyes, however, were her breasts. Full and natural, with a slight valley of cleavage showing through the top of her light dress, I could feel how they felt by looking at them. I’m not the type to get a full erection by looking at a clothed woman, but I did feel myself swell up and begin to brush further down my leg as I shifted or stepped out of someone’s way on the crowded patio.
Audrey was gorgeous. The sun kept catching the hair at her temples and making it shine, and when our eyes met, it was shyly at first, and then more daring. I caught myself once looking at her with no conversation at all to support such a gaze.
As the band wound down later in the evening, Kayla walked over to me and said she wanted to go to bed, but that I should stay up. From the look in her eyes, I could tell that arguing wasn’t worth it. I could guilt her into staying up, but what was the point? There would be no sex, or unfulfilling sex at that, and she was plainly tired. I watched her walk into the shadows toward the cabin.
I tried getting back into the swing of things, but many guests had gone to bed, and even my sister was hard to talk to, as she was buzzed on all the attention. I grabbed another drink and wandered toward the lake. I realized in the full moonlight that two people approaching me on the path were Audrey and another girl. I said ‘hi’ as we passed, and then stopped to stare at the lake, stealing glances back the two friends. They paused, hugged, and then Audrey started to walk back toward me.
“What are you up to?” she asked.
“Nothing, just walking,” I replied.
“You any good with a canoe?” she asked.
“It’s one of my favorite things to do,” I replied truthfully. The resort had a few canoes and kayaks set up next to the lake, and I’d already been out a couple of times in the preceding days, once with Kayla (briefly) and again by myself, just to float and watch the sky.
“But are you good with one? Because I’m a bit tipsy, and they say water and alcohol don’t mix.” She laughed and I smiled back.
“You don’t seem drunk to me,” I said.
“Oh, I’m not too bad. I just don’t want to be the responsible one,” she said.
Twenty minutes later, we were floating on the lake, me at the stern, paddling every so often, but mostly just floating and talking. Eventually she turned on her seat to face me, about five feet away, causing the canoe to rock a bit. We had made it to the far end of the lake, a good half mile from the resort.
“Would it be possible to get back in if we tipped it?” she asked.
“We’re not going to find out,” I said, not sure of the answer.
We talked about a few mundane things and then about our respective relationships. She was unhappy in much the same way I was. Her boyfriend, Pete, had skipped the wedding so he could study for his business school exams.
Our conversation trailed off, and as I looked up at the moon, I felt her eyes on me. I returned her stare, and we just sat there, floating, staring at one another. I smiled, and so did she, but neither of us looked away. It dawned on me that we would be kissing at that moment if not for the unstable nature of canoes.
Finally, dumbly, I opened my mouth:
“I want so much to kiss you, but…”
Audrey smiled more and began, ever so carefully, to lean forward, hands on either side of the boat, as I sought to counterbalance her movements from the kaçak iddaa other end. I thought we’d surely end up wet, but didn’t really care at the moment. I wanted her lips on mine, and I needed to touch her.
I realized in my stupor that I would have to meet her halfway, or we’d have all our weight on one end. I began trying to get to her the same way, weight opposite hers to compensate. I wished I’d skipped my last gin and tonic.
The canoe was an old aluminum model, and it was big. Three ballast bars across the midsection made for touch-and-go hurdles—we each had to cross one. The canoe tipped dangerously, and we both crouched low, laughing and swearing, but were quickly back to the task of getting to one another.
When we finally met, with one bar between us, we knelt, and kissed softly for one moment, before we were grasping one another by the neck. She tasted sweet, faintly like fruit, and her kisses were wet and open. We stared at each other while kissing, still ravenous with our eyes, and her grip on the back of my neck tightened until it was painful.
I reached up her dress immediately, fighting the thin fabric as it bunch around my fingertips, and held her ass in my palm, squeezing it and pulling her toward me. We were both pressed against the metal bar between us. I dropped my head to her breast, wanting to kiss her and suckle her at the same time, as she gasped and began to wrestle with my belt.
The canoe swayed, and we froze, trying to regain our balance.
“We can do this,” she said, “slowly.”
I smiled at her, realizing that we were thinking the same thing: we can—and will—fuck on this boat, no matter how hard it is.
She got my pants down enough to free my cock, which she cupped and lightly stroked with both hands. She bent and took the head in her warm mouth, sucking and leaning back, letting it pop audibly from her lips. She slid down further and squeezed and pulled with the muscles in the back of her throat. My thoughts, all at once, were: does she like me more than her boyfriend? do I care? what if Kayla finds out? I don’t care. Is she as impossibly great as she seems? Will I end up marrying Audrey? Jesus, shut up!
As these thoughts swirled around my head, Audrey pulled up and looked at me, eyes watery from exertion.
“You have a great cock.”
I responded by reaching out and taking her shoulders in my hands, lifting to signal her to stand up slowly. I lifted the edge of her dress and pulled her panties down to her knees, and using the bar for support, leaned forward to lick her pussy.
“Wait,” she said, sounding annoyed. “This fucking dress is not going to stop me from watching you do that.”
The boat swayed as she unbuttoned and unzipped her dress and bra from behind, and as she lifted it over her head, as it squeezed her breasts upward, until finally she was standing above me, her breasts perfect and round in the moonlight, naked. The boat tipped again, and her hands went to my shoulders. She righted herself and pulled my head to her pussy, her fingers in my hair for support.
I arched my head as much as I could as I spread her lips with my tongue, flattening it and licking slowly up toward her pussy. Her short, soft curls tickled my brow and nose as I tasted her salty essence. She moaned and I wanted so much to take her ass in my hands for more control, more leverage, but to do so would have meant capsizing. Instead, I had to go slowly agonizingly so, until her knees began to tremble and her grip on my hair tightened.
“Oh god I’m gonna come,” she groaned, shaking and bucking against my mouth and face. We almost went over as she ground her clit hard against my upper lip, and the water made lapping noises at the side of the canoe.
“That was so hard,” she said, breathing hard, and I knew just what she meant. It’s one thing to have to be quiet when you fuck, or masturbate, for fear of getting kaçak bahis cuaght, but it’s another thing altogether to have to maintain your balance when you come, for fear of drowning.
We laughed and she squatted down to recover. We looked into one another’s eyes and laughed quietly, conspiratorially, as though we’d just skipped out on a bill.
I couldn’t help but caress her breasts, which looked made for caressing, or sucking, or nuzzling up next to for a post-coital nap.
“I need to be inside you,” I said, as my cock stuck dumbly skyward, angry at its predicament. She pulled at my pants and helped me get them off.
“Yes,” was all she said, as she stood again, shakily, and bent forward at the waist, offering her ass up to me. I stood slowly and pressed the head of my cock against her puffy pink lips, savoring the resistance and friction from her blonde hairs. I pushed forward and felt her yield, felt the outer muscles part, and shoved into her warm depth.
The canoe rocked violently, and we both bent suddenly, closer to the floor of the boat, to avoid tipping.
“Fuck!” we both said, and then started laughing at the ‘jinx-buy-me-a-coke’ synchronicity of our utterance. My cock didn’t find it funny, however, and apparently neither did her pussy, as we both scrambled back into our positions.
The results were the same. The more I tried to properly fuck her, the closer we came to being literal casualties of lust. I was at a loss, and about to suggest we just paddle to shore and take our chances there, when Audrey said,
“Do you mind getting your ass wet?”
“No. I don’t mind anything now. What do I do.”
“Lie down on the bottom, and I’ll straddle you and fuck you from on top.”
It sounded grand, if a bit cold. Again, I didn’t care. I lay down as carefully as I could, and Audrey put her feet to either side of my waist, holding the middle bar for support. She sank down and I positioned my cock at her lips.
“Mmmmm there,” she said, and she gently began fucking the top half of my cock, testing the water, so to speak. As we both realized that this was a much safer way, she began to push down harder, and I began to meet her coming up, my ass coming off the cold metal a couple of inches at a time. The contrast between the wet metal on my backside and the gushy warm wetness of her plump pussy was too much. I reached forward and rubbed her clit with my thumb as we still rather delicately fucked, her milky tits rolling and bouncing with each thrust.
The canoe began to make the same lapping/slapping noises it had earlier. It sounded obscene, but I was looking up at a clear bright moon, and one of the most naturally beautiful faces I’d ever seen, eyes half-closed, perspiring slightly, mouth ajar, and if the spasms on my cock were any indication, a face building toward the clenched teeth and creased brow of orgasm.
I felt myself building, and in the midst of it all, I needed to ask.
“Yes. Come in me. Come hard, baby. I’m gonna too,” she said in a half-whisper, half-pant.”
I thrust up hard, not caring about tipping the goddamn boat anymore, just wanting to get as deep as I could for once in the whole balancing act, to hit bottom and shoot as much of myself as I could into this sexy woman.
“Oh, Aud-rey,” I said in a stutter, my cock exploding into her as she bit her lip while her fingertips danced on her clit.
She made a series of strange moans and collapsed in slow motion on the bar above my chest, her breasts hanging forward. I had no energy to sit up and suckle them.
We rowed back, not talking much, and with the light behind us and knowing that I had to go back to my cabin and she to hers, I felt, I don’t know, like an American Indian. Like I’d been on a mission, and now it was completed. I laughed to myself, rather sure that Audrey wouldn’t get it, and not wanting to seem totally goofed up on her just yet.
We slid into shore and shared a lingering kiss. I walked her back to her cabin, and took my time getting back to mine. My feet felt firmer on the earth than they had in a long time.
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