The day was warm and sunny—not a cloud in the sky. We paddled along for about two miles. The lake was as smooth as glass. Suddenly Victoria stopped paddling and turned around in her seat, sliding to the floor of the canoe. She said that she was getting hot and undid all the buttons on her blouse. She opened her top just enough so I could see that she was wearing nothing underneath. She exposed a good portion of her breasts, letting the material just barely hide her nipples. By this point I was rock-hard and, as I was wearing only a bathing suit, little was left to her imagination. I really wanted to get the show on the road and diving into her muff would have been a great way to start, but she just sat there sunning herself. Occasionally she would massage her breasts and tweak her nipples, then she would slowly run her hands down her taut, flat stomach and under her cutoffs. She would leave her hands there for a moment or two, rotate her hips against her hands and then stop. I was going nuts with desire. Watching a woman play with herself is something that always turns me on.
I paddled to a spot by the cliffs. We parked the canoe and grabbed the gear that we needed for our lunch. There was a trail up the cliffs that led us to a very secluded spot overlooking the lake. Victoria said that this was our spot and started to lay out the blanket and organize everything. I gladly helped, knowing what was in store. I was ready to start my lunch. I figured a beaver sandwich would be a tasty appetizer. Victoria stood up and took her blouse off, then she seductively slid out of her cutoffs. She asked me to put some suntan lotion on her back, which I promptly did.
After taking care of her back, I worked my way down to her hips. Then I wrapped my arms around her, my oiled hands reaching for her breasts. After massaging her breasts until her nipples were as hard as bullets, I moved my hands down her tight stomach toward her love-nest. She pulled away, insisting that I run down to the canoe to get the cooler. Protesting that my cock was ready to explode, I reluctantly ran back to the canoe.
On the way back up the hill I heard moaning sounds coming from the area where I had left Victoria. When I got back to our site I saw a performance that I shall never forget.
Victoria was lying back on the blanket, her body glistening in the afternoon sun. She was well on her way to orgasm. I stripped out of my bathing suit, ready for action. Victoria was running her hands from her tits to her pussy, teasing herself. She rolled her oiled nipples between her fingers, then pulled them until they slipped out, hard and erect. Then she ran her hands down to her thighs, just above her knees. Her hands slid back up, right to her pussy lips. She pressed hard against her mons. Once more she slid her hands down her thighs, prying her knees apart and drawing them up. She drew her hands back up to her love triangle, moaning with pleasure. Slowly she began to gyrate against the pressure of her hands, building toward her climax. Sitting down at her feet I watched, trembling with excitement. She was too far gone to notice me.
With one hand she spread her lips. The other moved in unison with her hips as she fingered her clit. Suddenly she stopped. She took the finger that was doing all the work and stuck it in her mouth, sucking hard on it. When she drew it out, it was dripping wet with saliva. She reached down once more, this time sliding the finger up inside her cunt. At this point I could wait no longer. I leaned forward and dropped my tongue to her clit. She groaned and started coming. Although she had three quick orgasms back to back, I knew that she wasn’t finished.
I knelt in front of her, grabbed my cock and rubbed the swollen head against her super-sensitive clit. She started coming again. I leaned forward and buried myself right to the hilt. She groaned with pleasure. After a few more strokes she came again. Just as she was at the peak, I exploded inside her.
After a few minutes of basking in our euphoria, she pushed me onto my back. Even though I was still fully erect, I was too spent to do anything. We lay side by side for a couple of minutes, then Victoria took over. She sat on my stomach, facing away from me, and started pumping my cock with her hands. Then she guided me back into her pussy, slowly moving her hips in a circular motion. This continued until I was ready to peak again. She stopped, sat upright, drew her knees up beside my hips and leaned forward. This gave me an excellent view of her pussy. With each stroke she took, her pussy lips pulled against my shaft, trying to suck every drop of come out of my cock.
With her pussy oozing, she began inching backwards toward my head. Although I had gone soft, the moment her pussy lips reached my tongue I was hard again. I stretched my tongue up to meet her clit and it was less than a minute before she was coming again. After she came she fell forward, totally exhausted. I ran my hands up her thighs and then slid them to her cunt, spreading her pussy lips apart. When I inserted two fingers into her hot twat, she started rubbing her face into my balls and stroking my cock.
She ran her tongue around the head of my swollen member. As I started rotating my thumb against her clit, she sank her lips down to the base of my cock. Then she spun around so I could watch the best blowjob in the history of mankind take place. After watching for a few moments, I was ready to pop again. Victoria sensed this and increased her speed. She massaged my balls and that was it. Groaning aloud, Victoria sucked every last drop out of me. After a while, we fell asleep in each other’s arms. We slept for the rest of the afternoon.
When we woke up, we jumped into the crystal-clear lake. At dusk we headed back to the canoe and the mood for some more tender lovemaking overcame us. We made slow, gentle love in the canoe—the perfect way to end our perfect day.
WILD STRAWBERRIES
I’m a twenty-year-old male in the military. If there’s such a thing as a food fetish. I’ve got it!
This happened about two years ago, and for as long as I live I will never forget it. I was living at home with my parents at the time.
It was Friday night. My parents had left earlier that evening and were going to be gone all weekend. I figured I’d have a party so I called a couple of friends and told them to come on over.
Pete and Dan showed up around nine. We started downing a bottle of tequila. About fifteen minutes later, Bernie showed up with Jane, a tall blonde with a nice body. After the introductions, I headed into the kitchen to mix two more drinks for the latecomers. Bernie followed me.
We talked while I prepared the drinks. “John, how would you like to give Jane the fucking of her life?” Bernie asked me.
Jokingly, I said, “You brought her, you fuck her.”
He laughed and said, “No, I mean all four of us. Why not? We’re all best friends, and she’s one of the horniest women in town!”
I thought about this for a while, then said, “On one condition, I go first.” He agreed.
After a few more drinks and some excellent smoke, I went into the kitchen and started making some preparations. Digging through the fridge, I grabbed three pounds of frozen strawberries and a few bananas. Next, I went to the garage and got some thick plastic bags to cover the bed with. When I was done, I went back into the living room to see how everything was going.
They were still sitting around. I whispered to Bernie that he should take Jane downstairs and help her to relax a bit.
As soon as they left, I threw the strawberries in the microwave to thaw them out. When I was done, Dan and Pete came in wearing shit-eating grins. Not long after that, Bernie came running up the stairs. He said, “She’s ready.” The three of them hurried back down. I was halfway down the stairs before I remembered the strawberries, so I had to run back up and get them. By the time I took them out, they were warm and squishy. I damn near got my rocks off just thinking about what was going to happen! Grabbing the fruit, I flew down the stairs, practically spilling the huge bowl of strawberries in the process.
I followed the trail of clothes to my bedroom. What I saw in there made my cock rock-hard. Jane was lying on her back with Pete’s huge prick in her mouth. Her legs were spread invitingly and she was jerking Bernie and Dan off. I stripped as fast as I could, lit some candles and turned out the lights. I grabbed the bowl, walked over to the bed and
started pouring. I began with her tits and worked my way down. She let out a muffled moan as the warm, sticky strawberries oozed down her stomach, slowly inching toward her mound. I emptied the last of the bowl onto her beautiful snatch. As I slowly spread her creamy thighs and started licking the strawberries off her pussy, she moaned and bucked, grinding her cunt into my face. She came at least twice. The four of us hungrily licked her clean.
I grabbed a banana, peeled it and slowly started to slide it into her wet pussy. She arched her back and thrust her hips forward to meet it. She went crazy as I fucked her with the banana. I was so into it, I didn’t notice that the other three had left. When the banana was coated with her juice. I shoved it as far as it would go and started eating it out of her. I slid around into a 69, jammed my cock down her throat and fucked her mouth for all I was worth. It didn’t take long for us to both come in one explosive orgasm.
We kissed and I rubbed the strawberries into her skin. She got a real laugh out of this, and she enjoyed it too. I scooped lots of the sticky fruit on top of her cunt and then I fucked her. My cock was nice and slippery from the strawberries, and I slid in and out of her like lightning. I popped one of her sticky, sweet-tasting nipples into my mouth, and I sucked it while I rode her hot box. When I was about to explode, I pulled out and shot my load.
Not long after that there was a knock at the door. Bernie came in saying, “My turn,” and smiled. I could barely get up. I walked out and closed the door. I was covered with strawberries and squashed bananas and pussy juice, and I was thinking that this would be a weekend I’d never forget.
Since then I’ve tried various other foods—whipped cream, honey and butterscotch pudding. I want to try spaghetti, but I haven’t yet found a willing partner.
DUTCH TREAT
When I joined the army last year I figured it would broaden my horizons. However, after I was promoted to lieutenant and learned I would be transferred to the Netherlands, I must admit I was apprehensive. I didn’t know the language or the customs, and was afraid I’d feel alienated. But I soon learned that the Dutch were friendly people who liked Americans. Just how friendly they were I was soon to find out.
My story begins about two months after I arrived in Holland. It was a Friday night. I had been invited to join some Dutch officers for dinner and drinks. Since I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay out too late, I opted to drive my own car. I followed them out to what I thought would be a local tavern. We drove through several small villages and down barren country roads. Finally we arrived at our destination. They bought me several mugs of my favorite beer, and soon we were laughing and joking. For dinner I ordered a hearty Dutch specialty, which I enjoyed immensely. After several hours of good food, good drink and good company, I said my goodbyes. I would have liked to stay with them for a while longer, but it was already after midnight and I had a full day of work ahead of me.
When I left the tavern, a terrible storm was raging. The night was black as ink, and the rain was coming down in sheets. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to find my way home, but I was going to give it my best shot. After about thirty minutes of driving in what I had thought was the right direction, I realized I was totally lost. I couldn’t even find my way back to the tavern.
I drove on, hoping to find an inn where I could get a room for the night. I was cruising along on a dark, narrow country road when I spied flashing lights ahead. My sagging spirits lifted—I figured that it was the neon sign of an inn or motel.
Much to my disappointment, the flashing lights turned out to be the emergency lights of a stalled camper. I pulled over to see if I could help. I climbed out, pulled my jacket over my head and went over to knock on the driver’s window. No one responded to my knock. The camper seemed to be empty. Now, soaking wet as well as lost, I got back into my car and drove on.
Not too far down the road I spied someone moving along the side of the road. Obviously this was either the camper’s owner or a local ghost. I pulled up alongside the ghostly specter and tapped on the window, beckoning to the person to get into the car. The door opened and a drenched figure wearing a bulky trench coat and a gray fedora climbed in. It was then that I realized my passenger was a beautiful young woman.
She caught my eye. We stared at each other for an eternal second. She finally broke the silence. With a smile she said, “Thanks for giving me a lift.” She had a wonderful British accent.
“My pleasure,” I gallantly responded. It appeared that my luck was beginning to change.
“Well, it’s not a good night to be out in the rain,” she proclaimed, “but it is a good night to be rescued by a handsome prince.” This made me blush, which made her chuckle. Still blushing, I sheepishly admitted that I was lost and asked if she knew of a place to stay for the night. She replied, “I am also a stranger to these parts. We’ll look for a place together.” So the two of us drove on.
About five kilometers down the road we came upon a crossroads with a small farmhouse nestled off to one side. The lights in the house were all off, but we decided to stop anyway. The storm had started to let up a little. I got out and rang the bell. After several rings, a light went on and an old man answered the door.
I tried to explain that we had lost our way and needed a place to stay for the night, but the man didn’t understand my English, nor my broken Dutch. I called to my companion to come help me out. She got out of the car and spoke to the man at length in Dutch. Evidently she finally convinced him of our plight, because he ushered us in out of the rain and up the staircase to the second floor.
He spoke to her again as he unlocked one of the rooms, then he left us. We entered and found a large antique featherbed, a dresser, a table and chairs, some towels and a washbasin. I looked around for another room or bed, but this seemed to be it. She was confused by my distress. “Where do I sleep?” I asked.
Pointing to the bed, she said, “Right there, of course.”
“Well, where are you sleeping?” I responded.
Without blinking an eye, she said, “I’m sleeping there too. Will that be a problem?”
“No,” I quickly replied.
She explained that this was not an inn, but a private home. The room we were in was a spare room that was used by relatives when they visited. She went on to explain that she had told the man that we were newlyweds, and he had taken pity on us, offering us a bed for the night, as well as a hot meal. “You see,” she continued, “only if we were married would he have let us stay together in this room.” Coyly she asked if she had done the right thing. My smile convinced her that I completely approved of her plan of action.
The tension in the air was broken by a knock on the door. The man’s wife entered, carrying a tray with a steaming tureen, a pot of tea and some plates and mugs. She put the tray down on the nightstand, and my companion thanked her. The woman said good night and withdrew.
The tureen was filled with a thick, savory goulash. The tea was strong and sweet. “Let’s eat before the food gets cold,” I said, suddenly hungry.
“You eat. First, I’m going to get out of these wet clothes,” she replied. As I ate, I watched as she took off her overcoat. She was wearing an emerald-green evening dress. It was still damp and clung tightly to her body. She was about five feet seven and one hundred twenty pounds, with medium-size breasts, a small waist and slender hips.
She hung the coat up and stopped to look at me. I was still staring at her. She smiled and pulled her gray fedora off. This unleashed a mass of lush auburn hair, which tumbled halfway down her back. Reaching behind her, she unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor. I caught only a glimpse of lacy black lingerie before she wrapped a towel around her body. I immediately started to get a hard-on. Taking another towel, she patted her body dry and worked it over her damp hair.
I poured her some tea. She sat down across the table from me and brought the cup to her lips. A warm glow came to her cheeks as she sipped the steaming liquid. I got hard just watching her. She realized th
is and smiled, enjoying my discomfort. When I finished my stew she said, “You’ll catch a cold if you don’t get out of those wet clothes.”
Not wanting to argue, I got up and moved over to the bed. She watched, amused by the reversal of roles. I stripped to my briefs. It was obvious that, even from across the room, she could see the bulge straining against my briefs. As I reached for the last dry towel, she stood up and moved toward me. “It looks as if you could use some assistance drying off. Let me help you,” she said. She took the towel from my hands.
She began to work vigorously on my body. As she rubbed, her towel came undone and fell to the floor, revealing a black, lacy, front-closing bra and matching bikini panties. I stared at her lovely globes, heaving with every breath. Constrained, they clearly longed to be free. I tested the waters by cupping a hand around one of those beauties and giving it a gentle squeeze. She smiled and moved closer. I deftly unfastened her bra. She shrugged the straps off her shoulders.
We kissed for the first time, timidly at first, then long and hard. She rested a hand on my ass and gave it a squeeze. Her breasts were hot against my chest. She moaned softly as I cupped her ass-cheeks and pulled her tightly against me. We moved in unison, our bodies pressed together. All that separated us from ecstasy were two pieces of terry cloth. She was dripping with passion. Gently I massaged her mound of Venus. Moaning with pleasure, she began the rhythmic dance of love.
Sliding her tongue from my mouth, she circled my erect nipples before gently licking them. My cock throbbed every time she moved. I sighed with pleasure. Her tongue cut a wet path down my chest. She slid my briefs off, then stopped, poised in front of my pulsing member. Making an O with her moist lips, she kissed the tip of my cock. Looking up at me, she said, “Now I want to thank you properly for rescuing me from the cold night.” She slowly slid her lips over my electric rod. It was all I could do to just hold on.
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