Every summer, all of my cousins converge on a lake in New Hampshire. My grandfather bought a cabin there in the 40's, and it's been a part of our lives ever since. There are five bedrooms, three bathrooms, and enough space to let us get along.
Now that we're all older and have families of our own, the cabin is still in heavy use. We each have time to ourselves, but our kids spend time together the way we used to, and we get to hang out after they're all in bed and enjoy ourselves. Last summer, we even hired a college student named Lindsey to help out with the kids and with the meals. For a week, we were treated to the sight of a curvaceous brunette in her bathing suit, in yoga pants, or in a form-fitting sundress as she kept the kids busy or worked in the kitchen. That freed me up for my favorite pastime-chasing bass in the hidden corners of the lake. We chatted about good spots (she was a local girl) and I was pleasantly surprised to discover how much she knew about fishing. Since I cooked a lot as well, we spent a lot of time with each other and I enjoyed her quick sense of humor almost as much as the lush body so close to me.
She was there almost all day and into the night for that week, and she saw a lot of the family dynamics around her. Three days in a row, she saw my wife go to bed early while the rest of us sat on the deck or in the living room after the kids were settled down for the night. She also clearly saw the distance between the two of us. Toward the end of the week, she even became comfortable enough to ask if everything was OK with my wife. This wasn't said in a suggestive way-it came across as concern, and I answered it honestly.
"Not really," I told her. "We've been growing apart as the kids get older, and she's not interested in...spending time with me."
Her eyes were sympathetic. "Sorry," she said. "It just seems like a tense situation."
"Yeah," I told her, "it is. I'm not going anywhere, but still...it's not always easy being married."
"I guess so," she said.
With that, we dropped the subject, and no more was said about it before she left on Sunday.
A year later, we were all back at the cabin, and Lindsey was back in charge of the kids and the kitchen. She looked as good as ever, but even though she had been a prominent part of my fantasies over the long months since I saw her last, I wasn't stupid enough to allow anything to arise between us. She gave me a quick hug that let me feel her full breasts on my chest as my arms encircled her slim waist. Her hair smelled like flowers. Pretty soon, we were back in our routine-fishing, cooking with Lindsey, and discreetly watching her curvy ass.
On the second night, the kids had a bonfire and made s'mores. When they were all bedded down, Lindsey sat with us around the firepit and had a glass of wine. We all had a good time hanging out together, but as usual, my wife got up not long after 10 and with a quick peck on the cheek, went off to bed. Lindsey's eyes found mine and a quick, understanding expressed crossed her face. That was it until the next day. She went home around 11, and we all headed inside to go to bed.
Lindsey was back at 6:30 to start breakfast for everyone. Only a few of us were up, drinking coffee on the deck when she got there.
"Hey guys," she said, as she came up the steps. It was a cool morning, so she was dressed more warmly than usual-yoga pants, sneakers, T-shirt, and a hoodie. Still cute.
We all said hello, and she asked me if I was going fishing today.
"Yeah," I told her "It's perfect out-cloudy and not too windy."
She said one of her college friends, Sam, was going out this morning to Chandler's Cove at the far end of the lake and if I wanted to meet up, could show me some well-hidden spots for catching bass.
"Sounds good," I told her, and she gave me directions to make sure I knew where I was going.
As I made ready to leave, she handed me a cooler bag, heavy with drinks and snacks, as well as a thermos full of coffee.
"I put enough in for you and for Sam" she said with an innocent smile.
I headed out, and with only one look at the chart, I found Chandler's Cove. There was a boat tucked up close to the overhanging trees, and I could see someone casting along the deep shadows of the bank. I cut the motor and drifted into the cove. Finishing a retrieve, the fisherman turned around and watched my approach. Two thoughts crossed my mind in the same moment-"this looks like a great spot"and "Holy shit, Sam is a girl!"
I dropped my anchor close by and waved at her. She used her trolling motor deftly and drew alongside. "Hey," she said. "Are you Steve?"
"That's me," I told her.
"I'm Sam. Lindsey said you could use some help."
I smiled back, feeling only slightly puzzled by the way that was phrased. Finding my voice, I said as graciously as I could, "That would be great. Do you come here a lot?"
"Ever since I was a kid," she told me. With that, she passed her mooring line under the rail of my boat and snubbed the two boats together with a few quick turns.
"Lindsey said she was sending coffee-can I have some before we get started?"
I said yes, and turned to dig out the thermos. My boat rocked as Sam stepped aboard, and I turned to face her and gave her a cup. Up close, she was much smaller than Lindsey-barely five feet tall-with a thin frame and a cute, happy-looking face peeking out from under her baseball hat. She sat on the rail, so I sat in the captain's chair and we chatted about fishing for a few minutes. Just in that short time, it was clear that she knew what she was talking about, and I began to enjoy the dual pleasure of a beautiful young woman who also shared my favorite hobby.
When the coffee was gone, she stepped onto her own boat and grabbed her rod.
"Actually," she said, "we're anchored in a perfect spot-one of us can work the shoreline like I was before, and the other can fish the drop-off right behind you...there's a ledge right there, and there's usually fish hanging just over the edge when it's cloudy like this."
We took turns in both spots, bringing in two good-sized bass each before trading. Since we were letting them go, there was no worry about limits or space in the live well. As the day grew warmer, I pulled off my windbreaker and hat. When we swapped positions again, Sam had lost her outer layer as well-she was still wearing a hat, but her yoga pants were topped only by a thin, ribbed tank top that hugged her body. For someone that small, her breasts were full and round, sitting high on her chest. I could see the faint, dark outline of her nipples through the flimsy fabric. Her waist was tiny, and without the jacket in the way, I could enjoy the sweet curves of her hips, the flat stomach, and the smooth skin of her arms. As she stood on the bow of her boat casting, my eyes were drawn to the gap between her thighs. From behind, I imagined I could see a faint, shadowy line there, and I was lost in thoughts of her sweet little pussy-she was young enough to think shaving herself bare was normal-was she shaved?
