Joely's Swim

Simon

He didn't return to the lake until Monday, a beautifully warm sunny day with a mild south-westerly wind. Perfect for swimming. Alone, he plunged into the ice-cold water, crawling as far as the mass of tangled brambles and lichen-petrified trees bushes covering the far bank. Treading water, he swivelled his body then breast-stroked back to the solitary bank where he’d left his clothes. He heard a foreign voice.

'Hi, I'm Joely. Mind if I swim here, too?'

She spoke with a deep southern drawl: Alabama, Louisiana, Mississippi? And had the most achingly beautiful face he'd ever seen, clear blue eyes, a sexy snub nose, pursed fleshy cherry lips, surrounded with shade-upon-shade of fiery red hair: copper, chestnut, ginger, amber, flirty waves, delightful oaken ringlets. Her skin was pale as clotted cream. His perfect redhead. He worried she might burn in the fierce afternoon sun. Still, he said yes.

She dropped her bag on the ground, stripping off her ash grey tee-shirt, running shoes, tracksuit bottoms, to reveal a striking magenta basque. Standing, hands-on-hips, her pretty head cocked to one side, she watched him tread water with his muscular legs. Joely stooped and splashed her face and chest with water. It was freezing cold. It felt great.

'Think I should swim now, don't you?' she said, fancying him, 'Before I catch cold?'

There was a sunken bench, a relic of long-lost summer picnic outings before the crater was created by an enemy bomber shedding its payload after a midnight raid then flooding, forming a natural lake. He swam over and stood on it. The water came up as far as his waist. He flexed his powerful biceps, triceps, pecs, and abs in a valiant one-on-one attempt to impress her.

My Darcy, Joely imagined, flushing, only hotter.

She crouched on the bankside preparing to dive. He admired her perfect musculature, her poise. Suspecting she worked out in a private gym to keep herself slim and fit. Suspecting Joely could hold her poise, control her breathing, hold her body rigid, for him. She was within in his grasp: touching distance. He thrust his pelvis at her needing her sex. A crude smile creased her face as she sized the big eel dangling between her man's legs.

His face coloured, flame-red, 'Sorry, I forgot my trunks.'

'That's okay,' she smiled, 'I've seen a man's cock before.'

I bet you have, he dreamed, 'I'm Simon.'

'Good to meet you, Simon. Let's swim, shall we?'

Joely dived into his life headfirst, powering off across the lake face down in the water, her strong arms cutting thru the chill, throwing her head back, every few strokes, sucking tepid air.

Admiring her physique, he turned like a barrel in the water and followed her, calm, preoccupied with her. Joely's body was well-toned, perfectly proportioned. He imagined her torso dripping wet.

Men, particularly lean, mean men with huge genitals were hard to find in a rural setting. Joely took him into her own hands, swimming fifty lengths past two disinterested geese, exhausting herself, heading back to the bank. The water was deeper than her height here. An orange lifebelt hung suspended over her head next to a sun-blanched sign which read:

DANGER DEEP WATER

With immense effort, she grasped the side and heaved herself out, falling flat on her face in the grass. Laughing, dripping wet, her pale skin coated in goosebumps, Joely hauled herself out, and tugged a beach towel out of her jute bag. He was swimming towards her. She dabbed the sun's glare out of her eyes. He watched her avidly as she pulled down her black see-thru lace basque exposing her bare creamy breasts, her ripest cherry nipples, their erect teats: her subtle invitation to him, come and fuck me, Simon. She wriggled out of her basque, shewing him her bald, hairless cleft, letting the wet lace slide down her legs. Joely stretched her arms, raising her full fat pale breasts, her stiff teats, her intimate tattoo, for him.

Joely

He clambered out of the water, embarrassed, reddening, averting his eyes, drying himself, best he could. Other than fine hair on his forearms, a line of fluff running down his belly, his body was bare skin solid muscle. He shivered and all the veins jutted out of his biceps.

Joely encouraged him, 'No need to be shy, honey. You've got a lovely body.'

'It's been so long since I fucked a beautiful woman like you,' he admitted.

'I know how you feel,' she sighed, 'this recession's been tough for all of us. Look at me.'

She was wearing a single pearl choker. He watched Joely cup her breasts, crane her head, lick her nipples. She held herself open for him, exposing her raw steak flesh, her love-hole, handed him her towel and murmured seductively, 'Dry my breasts and cunt.'

He dried her roughly: tousling her red hair, rubbing her damp torso: kneading her breasts, feeling between her legs as he lightly dabbed at her wet slit.

Feeling dizzy, all the blood rushing to her head, Joely whispered seductively, 'Let me hold you.'

She held him tenderly in her soft hands. They kissed and embraced. She lay on her towel, facing him, legs wide apart. He mounted her, sliding the full ten inches of his rigid, throbbing, straining cock inside her slick fuck-hole, she impaling herself on his stretched-out shaft, rolling back his tight foreskin so she could clench his pulsing nub, the spurting slit with her birth muscle. Joely reclined, pressing her fleshy buttocks hard against her man's underbelly, grinding all the spurting semen out of his swollen sac, gripping his slimy nub, as he fondled her heaving breasts, rising, ascending in blissful orgasm.

Joely reclined pressing her fleshy buttocks hard against his underbelly.

'That feels fucking lovely,' she screamed, swearing, 'fill my cunt with spurting semen, seed me, fuck me, no, no, I want to squirt, I’m going to squirt, let me squirt, inside your mouth, honey!'

Joely dismounted, letting her man's spurting cock squirt his thick semen all over her pale arse, screaming, squirting her warm girlie jus over his belly, turning, floppy, splaying her vent over his craving mouth, filling his mouth with her intimate body fluid, her salty, creamy, messy jus.

After they'd fucked, he escorted her to the footpath, past a freshly excavated ditch bordered by piles of stricken branches, hawthorn in bridal bloom. She told him she was single, unemployed, barely surviving on furlough, seeking excitement. She stared at the olive water in the ditch, a messy vinaigrette leading nowhere like her life and asked if she could fuck him again soon.

He smiled at her lovingly, 'If you’d like to.'

'I want to.'

They exchanged numbers as they reached the three red fir trees where the path diverged: left for the church, right for the village. There was a crude wooden footbridge, planks over a muddy stream, steps leading to the school. They listened to the sound of children playing. Joely let go of his hand, kissed him on the lips, and stared him in the face. She felt guilty, just leaving him.

'This is me I'm afraid. I can't help myself,' she said, the tears, welling, in her eyes, 'This is me!'