My Turn

She is beautiful. She doesn't know it, wouldn't believe me if I told her. After a day on the lake, fishing, talking, swimming, her nose is lightly freckled, and a touch pink. Bright blue eyes twinkle as she laughs at me. The baseball cap she threw on when I woke her up this morning, hides her red hair, curly from the shower, where it never finished drying. Straight white teeth gleam in the late afternoon sun. The thin cotton t-shirt she is wearing does nothing to hide her curves, nor do the short jean shorts. We are both barefoot, having been playing in the water earlier. A weekend in the sun has given her skin a pink tinge, which will fade to a soft golden glow.

I can see her watching me, as we lounge on the shore. We're eating fresh strawberries dipped in honey, a treat she brought for us. The sound of a boat carries across the lake.

"What are you looking at?" I ask.

"Just admiring the view," she replies, the imp.

At five foot eleven, I'm no slouch, even at middle age. Dark hair has given way to salt and pepper on top, and mostly grays other places, but she doesn't seem to mind. Working with my hands, and being a guide for hunts has kept me in shape, if not the lean muscular guy I was in my youth. She loves the fact that I have gone a little soft in places, but am still strong. My skin is darker than hers, a rich tan, rather than her pale gold. She tells me constantly how amazing I am: maybe some day, I'll even agree with her.

We have been out in the boat all day, but are enjoying lounging on the shore. Trees, barely beginning to bud, stand straight and tall at our backs and the blanket we spread out over the sand is warm to the touch.

I roll over on to my side, and watch her. She is laying on her back, watching me, the minx. She is younger than I, but we still seem to click. Her generous breasts are confined by her swimsuit, and pointing straight up at the sky, straining the t-shirt. She is well padded, but in all the right places. I run a callused hand over her waist, watching lips curve in a mischievous smile, eyes light with anticipation.

I roll over, on top of her, pinning her hips with my own, putting my hands on either side of her head.

"What?" she asks, smiling.

"Just looking for a softer place to stretch out," I reply. She blows me a raspberry in response. "Or, I could make things a little more interesting."

She nods, and I move to skim my hands under her shirt, moving it up, over her head, off. Holding her swimsuit in place over her breasts, I slip the straps over her shoulders, and down her arms. An arched eyebrow lets me know she is wondering what I am up to. I run work-roughened hands along her arms, forcing them over her head, until her hands touch the base of the tree behind us. Taking her shirt, I quickly tie her hands together, watching her face, which glow with sudden understanding and pure lust. Looking around, I see a length of rope lying nearby, which we had used to tie down the cooler earlier. I reach out and grab it, flipping the end around the tree, before using it to tie her bound hands securely to the tree.

"Hmmm, what should I do with the cat I've caught?" I muse aloud. "Maybe I should just leave it here." Nah, that's mean. "Toss her back into the water? Or, maybe I should just play with her?"

Her breathing is becoming a little faster, eyes are darkening, and she licks her lips in expectation. I lean down, and kiss her, very, very softly. She makes a sound, low in her throat, and arches up as far as she can, trying to force me to move deeper. I ease back, teasing her, and she growls.

"Uh-uh, kitten. It's my turn." She growls in frustration, and that evil glint is back in her eye. She surreptitiously tests the knots on her wrists, but there is no way she is getting loose. I run my fingertips along her collarbone, and then trace the edge of her swimsuit over each breast, as it slips dangerously lower. She closes her eyes as I use just two fingers to pull her swimsuit down, freeing magnificent boobs, aureoles as big as silver dollars, nipples the size of the tip of her pinkie. She both loves it and hates it when I look at her like this. Always self-conscious, she really has no concept of beauty. I am going to thoroughly relish tormenting her, causing her to make all those delicious sounds, and cute faces.

Reaching down, I take each nipple in hand, rolling it between thumb and forefinger, gently at first, and then increasing in pressure. I know she likes this because she arches her back, forcing her breasts harder into my hands. Cupping, kneading them, I flick my tongue just over the tip of each nipple, alternating between them. Her soft moan lets me know that this is working for her, and encourages me to continue. Changing tactics, just to increase the torment, I suck as much of one breast into my mouth as I can, then tenderly bite down on that delicate nub. With a soft cry, she jerks beneath me. With a wicked smile, I transfer my attention to the other breast and nipple.

Her skin is so soft as I run my hands down her sides, still mauling her chest with teeth, tongue, and lips. I slowly draw her swimsuit down, and manage to unbutton and unzip her shorts. Her short moans are interrupted by a breathless giggle, as I tickle her, albeit unintentionally. Moving down her body, playing with her belly button (which also makes her laugh), I draw her suit and shorts over her hips and down her legs, until they lay discarded beside us. I continue my tongue assault all the way down her body, until I reach her hips. Getting her clothes out of the way is just the first step.

I sit back on me heels, between her legs now, and pause for a moment. She writhes under my gaze, but I enjoy the view, smooth as a baby's butt, all the way around. Waxing will do that for a woman. I slip a finger into that cleft, only to find it moist and inviting, and my finger slides right into her. Drawing my finger out, I run it up to the little nub of nerves, flicking it very softly as I pass it by.

She lets out a gasp, and I grin to myself -- her eyes are tightly shut, and she doesn't know what I am doing. Leaning down, changing position, I rub my face along the inside of her thigh. She giggles, as my goatee tickles her and makes her wiggle a little. I bite down on her leg; just enough to let her know that I'm in charge, then push her knees back to her chest and spread her open.

Just to make her crazy, I blow, very softly, at her lower lips, enjoying the site of her flesh getting goose bumps. She moans, just a soft sound, as I lean forward, and place a tender kiss on the labia, then suddenly run my tongue up from bottom to top. I stop at her clit, taking it into my mouth, and just holding it there for a moment, before rubbing my tongue across it in short, sharp motions. It pushes her over the edge of her first orgasm, and then holds her there, as I suck on that little bundle of nerves. Mercilessly, I continue to play with her, until she begs me to stop, legs quivering.

Leaning back, I take off my shirt, before retracing my route back to her mouth, rubbing my chest against hers, so she squirms as the fine hairs there tickle her all the way up. As I move, she laughs.

"Is your tongue tired already?" she teases.

Never tell a woman your secrets -- she will find a way to turn it back on you. Rather than answer, I invade her mouth with my own, showing her just how able my tongue still is. We wrestle back and forth, exploring and trying to dominate each other, neither giving an inch. I brace my arms on either side of her body, and plunder the sweetness I find there. She wraps her legs around my hips, urging me closer. I chuckle a little, when she realizes I still have my jeans on, smiling against her lips, and stop moving.

"Someone is still overdressed," she whispers, rubbing her hips against mine, literally hanging from me, her muscular legs holding her to me. Leaning on one arm, I idly run one hand along her ribs, over the curve of her butt, and around to her tattoo, then lower. As she rubs herself along my zipper, I slip a finger into her from behind, and watch as she comes again.

I pull away from her, and she whimpers. I finagle my jeans open, and the zipper down, pushing them down over my hips and off. She is watching me, blue eyes shining and hungry.

"Beautiful," she whispers, as I move back over her. I rub my dick along her cleft, the tip brushing her clit. She flexes her hips, trying to get closer, to get me into her. Teasing her just makes it that much better, particularly when she starts growling, low in her throat. It makes her vibrate with need.

Feeling her tense, I move my rock-hard ten inches to that dark, warm, tight opening, just barely parting her, not pushing in yet. I wait, and she lunges towards me, as well as she can still tied to the tree. When she subsides, with a groan, I slide forward, slowly, steadily. She is so tight, she always is after she has come once or twice, and I fill her up completely, not quite getting all the way in. One stroke, two, three, and I feel my balls slap her ass, finally -- it takes some stretching, but she can accommodate my length. My groan echoes hers as I feel her convulse around me, gripping me tighter with her impending orgasm, and I stop.

I can feel her milking me, and it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to just blow my load now. But, I want this to last. I start a steady rhythm, something not too hard, or intense, just gentle pressure back and forth, not moving much, but enough for both of us. With her legs locked around my waist, I am free to play with her breasts, nipples, anything I can reach.

Never changing speed, I lean forward, causing her to gasp. The angle moves, and she is feeling it in a new spot, as I kiss her. It starts as something gentle; then evolves, until I am imitating my lower body with tongue and lips, passionate and controlling. I break the kiss, and stop moving, before moving to her ear, nibbling and suckling on it, playing with her.

"Oh, God," she throws her head back and cries out. I go rigid, stop, desperately trying not to come with her. It is more effort this time, and I know I can't make it the next one. She moans, incoherent with need, as I pull out. I wait for just a moment, until she can focus on me, and I'm sure that it's not going to end just yet.

"Let me help you turn over," I offer. She smiles, and wiggles backwards a little, so she can get her arms under her as she rolls onto her knees. Past, present, and future, protected by the fierce tiger, come into view, low on her back. I run a hand over the tiger, and she purrs. Placing my hands on her hips, I ease myself back in. It's easier this way: I can go deeper, and she loves it. She pushes back at me with each thrust. Her skin is glistening with a light sheen of sweat, and we both seem to glow in light from the setting sun, as I finally let myself go, pounding into her over, and over.

As I come, I hear a light scream echo over the water, and she comes with me, a mind-blowing, earth-shattering orgasm. We collapse forward, and I don't even have the presence of mind not to fall on top of her. She makes a small sound, and I realize that she is stuck, with her hands still tied. I roll onto my side, and pull her with me, so she is spooned against me, reaching up to untie the knots I used earlier. She flexes her shoulders, and reaches a hand behind her, putting it on my hip.

"Thank you," she whispers, totally content. I pull her closer, not wanting this to end, not wanting to let her go. I know it has to, as does she, but for this moment, everything is perfect. Tomorrow, we go back to the real world, and things have to change.

"So," she begins, "does this mean your turn is over?"

She is incorrigible.

"Yes, minx, it's your turn. At least give me a few minutes to recover, ok?" I laugh.

She grins. "Ok, if you insist."

We lay on the beach, watching the sun finally set.