by Bart Tracer
When we got to the pond 15 minutes later, Lance and I unhitched the team and stripped off the harnesses, putting them in the back of the wagon. Then, we hobbled the horses, leaving them to graze in the tall grass. In the meantime, Elizabeth took a red and white checkered blanket from the picnic basket, which she spread in the shade of a giant oak tree that grew on the bank of the idyllic little pond. She gave each of us a plastic plate and silverware, then proceeded to unpack the food. There were sandwiches and bags of potato chips, apples and a plastic container filled with cantaloupe cubes. An ice chest held cold cans of soda pop and beer.
We sat in the shade and ate, laughing and joking with one another as the frogs in the cattails serenaded us. For a long time after we were finished, we lay there, listening to the horses graze quietly beside us and taking in the scenery. Every few minutes the surface of the water would erupt as a lurking largemouth pounced on some unsuspecting insect or minnow. Soon, I was paying more attention to the water than the conversation.
“If you want to try your luck,” Lance offered, “the fishing tackle is in the back of the truck. Help yourself!”
I couldn’t resist. I had always been an inveterate fisherman, seizing every opportunity to fish, and there had been too little time lately for angling. Sitting here next to the pond and watching the obviously active fish feed on the surface like that had me itching to take a rod in hand. And so, smiling at the others, I excused myself and headed to the rig.
Looking over Lance’s fishing rods in the planked bed of the wagon, I selected a medium weight carbon rod with a nice spinning reel and tied on a brightly colored spinnerbait. I approached the bank of the pond slowly, careful not to make any noise or vibration as I snuck up to the edge of the cattails that flanked a good portion of the pond. Seeing a swirl in front of me, I flipped the bail on the reel, then brought the rod back and quickly flicked it forward once more, releasing the line at just the right moment to send the lure sailing toward its intended target.
The lure fell to the water with a small splash about three feet beyond where the fish had just swirled. Without thinking, I instantly flicked the bail back into position and took up the slack in the line, feeling the blades of the spinnerbait begin to turn as it moved through the water. I gauged the speed of my retrieve to keep the bait just below the surface, marveling at the smoothness of the reel, the rod perfectly transmitting the satisfying flutter of the lure to my hands. Lance definitely knew good equipment, I thought to myself.
My musings were suddenly interrupted by an enormous splash in front of me. The rod jerked violently in my hands, bending double with the force of the fish’s strike. I raised my hands sharply, setting the hook, feeling the weight of my adversary as the fish began to run. The reel’s drag sang loudly as the bass took out line and for just an instant, I felt the panic that always comes in that moment, when I wonder if I’ll be able to turn the fish before it reaches a snag.
A quick pull on the cork grip forced my opponent to abandon its run for the cattails, prompting it instead to jump, breaking the surface just 20 feet from where I stood. It looked enormous. Up, up into the still air of the afternoon the bass rose, shaking its silver-green head furiously in the sunlight as it tried to rid itself of the offending hook. Failing, it crashed down again, the resulting splash sending water in all directions. My arms trembled with the strain as the heavy bass surged away from me beneath the rippling surface.
Again and again, the cycle repeated; the fish ran and I turned it, the fight ranging from one end of the little pond to the other, stopping just short of the brushy edges. Gradually, I felt the tug on the line weakening. The runs got shorter; the jumps stopped. Now, when I pulled the fish closer, I was able to reel in the slack and the fish no longer stripped it back off again. Finally, muscles burning, I eased the big fish into the shallow water at my feet and bent to lip it.
I marveled at its weight as I lifted it from the clear water into the sunlight. It was a beautiful fish, heavy and dark with age, its great belly deep and wide. And it was mine. I had hooked it, fought it, and landed it. Picking up my fishing rod, I hurried toward the oak tree to show Lance and Elizabeth. But one glance told me that they probably wouldn’t be all that interested at this particular moment.
Lizzie’s shorts were now lying in the grass next to the blanket, kept company by a pile of Lance’s clothes. The dishes and picnic basket had also been unceremoniously deposited in the dirt as my wife and her new boyfriend were now putting the blanket to an entirely new use.
In the center of the checkered cloth, Lance was on top of Elizabeth pumping resolutely between her widely spread legs. Her little feet bobbed rhythmically in the air above his ass as he fucked her solidly. Even at a distance, I could hear the dull slap of their coupling bodies, punctuated by the occasional squeal from my wife.
I stood and watched them for a minute, wanting to join them, yet feeling oddly like an intruder. I suddenly felt foolish with the fish in my hands. Walking to the wagon, I found a nylon stringer in the bottom of the tackle box. I secured the bass to the line and then walked back to the edge of the water, carefully placing the fish in the shallows and tethering the other end of the stringer to a fallen log.
I picked up my rod once more and made a short cast along the edge of the cattails. My wife’s excited cries echoed in my ears as I began my retrieve. I suddenly realized that I was hard again. When the spinnerbait was ten feet from the shore, the water erupted once more as another bass took the bait.
As before, the fish fought desperately to escape. But, this time, it was more difficult for me to concentrate on the matter at hand. Lizzie’s voice carried across the grass, a constant reminder that she was being fucked behind me. Once, when a particularly loud shriek caused me to look over my shoulder at the couple on the blanket, I almost let the fish get into the cattails. But, I turned it just in time, and then managed to keep my attention on the pond long enough to eventually land the bass.
As I added this fish to the stringer, I stole a glance at the picnic blanket and saw that Lance had Lizzie on all fours now, plowing into her energetically from behind. I watched her little titties sway with each thrust, then picked up my rod once more and walked to another promising bit of shoreline, where I managed to catch two more fish. My cock was throbbing. Ten minutes later, just as I was about to make another cast, Lance walked up beside me, now fully clothed and carrying a fishing pole of his own.
“Having any luck?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I answered. “How about you?” I grinned at him.
“Can’t complain, Bill!” he laughed. “Although,” he added with a cheeky grin, “if your wife keeps this up, I may have to start taking vitamins!”
When we both stopped laughing, he said, “Actually, she wanted me to come find you. I’ll just stay here and fish for a while; you guys take your time.”
“Thanks,” I nodded. “I appreciate it!”
I put my fishing rod back in the wagonette as I passed it. Lizzie was sitting on the blanket, still nude, with her knees pulled up to her chest. She smiled sweetly at me as I walked up.
“Hi, Sweetie!” she chirped, holding up her hand to me. “Did you catch anything?”
“Yeah. I caught a couple,” I mumbled, my eyes straying down to where Lance’s seed slowly leaked out of her. Glancing up quickly, I realized I’d been caught.
“I don’t mind you looking, Baby,” said Elizabeth softly, moving her knees apart. “In fact, I kind of like it.” She looked down at herself, idly twirling her fingers through her curly red pubic hair. “It’s so sexy, isn’t it, knowing that it’s his.”
I swallowed, staring at her sticky crotch. I was so hard it felt like I had a crowbar in my pants.
“You like to look, don’t you?” She looked up at me, “I saw you watching us earlier. Did it turn you on? Did you like watching my boyfriend fuck me?”
I nodded, unable to pry my eyes away from her swollen sex.
“Just like last night,” she purr
ed, rising up on her knees and extending her left hand to cup my crotch. “You liked watching us last night too, didn’t you?”
“Oh God, Yes!” I groaned. “I love watching you with him. I don’t even know why, but it’s such a turn-on! It makes me insanely jealous, but somehow that’s part of what makes it so hot!”
“Mmmm! I agree, Sweetie. I love making you watch, too! I love the jealous look in your eyes when he’s inside me! It makes me feel so naughty!”
She gazed at the bulge where her hand caressed me as we talked. Suddenly, her eyes flashed up to meet mine.
“So…Tell me about last night. Tell me about my panties!” she hissed.
“I…I don’t know,” I stuttered, caught off guard. “I needed to…you know. And you’d fallen asleep…so I…I…”
Her right hand snaked behind my neck, pulling me to her. She kissed me passionately, then nibbled her way to my ear. “So you jerked off into your wife’s panties,” she completed my sentence, causing my penis to twitch in her hand. “That’s so hot, Baby!”
She pulled back and stared into my eyes as she unbuckled my pants. “Want to know a naughty secret?” asked Lizzie affectionately.
“Yes!” I nodded. “Tell me.”
“That’s why I couldn’t wait this morning.”
“Couldn’t wait…?”
She could see the look of confusion on my face. With a demure smile, she tugged my pants down, still stroking me.
“That’s why you found me sitting on Lance’s lap,” she explained. “When I woke up, his cum was still leaking out of me, and then I saw what you had done on the floor, and… You know I didn’t fall asleep on purpose or anything, right? It just happened that way. But when I thought about it, it sorta turned me on that you didn’t get a turn. You know, like I was reserved for him!”
A shiver ran down my spine and my cock got even harder as she played with me.
“Didn’t it make you jealous, that he got to fuck me, and you had to jerk off?” she probed.
“Oh fuck, yes!” I choked. “It drove me crazy!”
“But that made it better for you, didn’t it?”
I nodded grudgingly.
“You liked that only he had me?”
“Yesss!” I admitted.
“That your wife took his sperm and you were shooting yours in my undies?”
“Ohh…” I shuddered, “Yes! Fuck yes! It was so fucking hot!”
She bit her lip as she pondered my confession, her sapphire-blue eyes glowing with lust.
“What if we made a new rule?” she continued. “What if only Lance was allowed to fuck me this week?”
“Oh God!” I moaned, trembling. “But Lizzie…”
“Think about it,” she cut me off. “Imagine how much more intense this little adventure would be if you had to wait until we were back home!”
I could barely breathe. Her suggestion was outrageous! I hated the thought of her pussy being reserved only for Lance! And yet, my cock had never been harder. Why in the world was I so fucking turned on by this?!
And Lizzie knew me so well. She gently turned me around and pulled me to my knees on the edge of the blanket, facing away from the center. Then, she snuggled up behind me, her rock-hard nipples pressing into my back as she reached around me. One hand grasped my frightfully hard penis, while the other glided down to catch my churning testicles. Softly massaging my genitals, she leaned forward, her sensuous lips just grazing my ear.
“Wouldn’t it be exciting, Sweetie,” she breathed as the pace of her hands increased, “watching Lance service me with those enormous balls of his every night, knowing that I was off limits to you?”
No, I didn’t want that…Yes, I did…No, I didn’t…or did I?!! Fuck, I couldn’t think straight!
“Don’t worry, Sweetie! I’ll still help you keep these little guys empty. We just won’t be using my pussy!” Her nails raked the underside of my scrotum, causing my boiling balls to jump as she stroked my twitching cock.
“Oh God, Lizzie!” I blurted, my hips jerking as I involuntarily humped her soft hands. “You’re killing me!”
“Just say the words, Sweetie, and I’ll let you cum,” she coaxed. “Tell me you want Lance to have me all to himself this week…!”
I’d like to say that I only agreed because I needed to cum so badly. But the truth was, I was turned on by the idea of Lizzie cutting me off for a week to concentrate on Lance and his big cock. I still don’t know why, but that thought really got my juices going.
“Yes!” I practically shouted. “Oh God, Yes, Lizzie! Let him have you!”
“Good boy!” she cooed in my ear. “Now let me see you squirt on the grass. After all, my pussy belongs to him now!”
I came instantly. Grunting like a wild boar, I leaned back against her little titties, my pelvis thrust forward as the sperm began to shoot out of my cock, arcing high into the air to fall onto the meadow, where it clung in great globules to the coarse blades of the prairie grass, running slowly down toward the ground. Her hand was a blur on my spurting shaft, concentrating on the sensitive head as she squeezed my balls, wringing out every last drop.
“Oh my God, Bill! Just look how much you came!” she panted as she kissed my cheek. “It’s so hot what this is doing to you!”
I nodded weakly, wondering just what in the hell I had gotten myself into…
Chapter 17
The next two days were a whirlwind of activity. Thanksgiving was almost upon us. There was grocery shopping to be done, a turkey to thaw, and all the myriad details to organize that were a part of the holiday. Lizzie baked a pumpkin pie and a pecan pie and put them in the refrigerator, to be eaten Thanksgiving day. Between holiday preparations and the day-to-day chores that come with owning horses, we were busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest. But, we still found time for the occasional game of billiards or a quick swim; we took the team out for a drive and we grilled burgers on the veranda each day at noon. And there was plenty of sex.
Elizabeth seemed to have shaken off the last remaining vestige of timidity, fully embracing her role as Lance’s paramour. She had become so much bolder, both in dress and action, openly flaunting her feminine charms, relishing her newfound sexuality, teasing us both unmercifully. Her skirts were now outrageously short, allowing frequent tantalizing glimpses of her cute panties, and she never missed a chance to bend over whenever one of us was looking.
She couldn’t get enough of Lance’s big cock. She touched and caressed him constantly. In the middle of watching TV, she would sometimes slide to the floor and take him in her mouth, savoring his manly flavor, luxuriating in the sheer size of his organ. And each time, she stole a furtive glance to make sure I was watching her.
For his part, Lance was more than a match for this new, more sensual Lizzie. I honestly lost track of how many times he fucked her during those 48 hours; on the sofa, on the floor, up against the wall in the hallway. He seemed determined to spend as much time as possible with that enormous cock of his inside my wife. When I went to the kitchen to get a glass of water, I would come back to find her peeking at me over his shoulder as he pumped yet another load of cum up her.
The idea that I was no longer allowed to have her burned inside me like a torch. I hated it; I loved it. My balls were killing me! Jealousy and arousal had become practically the same emotion for me, and the more he fucked her, the harder I got. She’d been right…this was a fun twist!
From time to time, she asked me to go to our room and fetch her a new pair of panties when the ones she was wearing became too soaked with his ejaculate. We both knew it would have been easier for her to simply go and change, but this was so much kinkier. Standing there, red-faced, watching my wife slide a fresh pair of undies up her gloriously long legs and then taking the soggy ones back to wash them out in the sink was a delicious humiliation. And she loved inflicting it on me.
Each evening, when we retired to our room, Lizzie made good on her promise to keep my balls emptied. And
by the time evening came, they were more than ready to be emptied! God, how she loved teasing me, rehashing each detail of the sordid acts she had performed for her lover that day and showing me the graphic evidence of her infidelity. Then, she would push me back onto the bed and go down on me.
An indifferent fellatrix before, with all the practice Lance was providing her, she had blossomed into a true artist. She could now do things with a cock that I had never dreamed of. Her talented little tongue lashing at my steely shaft, she was able to quickly bring me to the edge and mercilessly push me beyond. And when my orgasm came, she no longer pulled away, sucking and swallowing until I feared she would draw my nuts out through the end of my dick. I might not have been getting any pussy, but Lizzie took very good care of me.
Chapter 18
Thanksgiving morning found Lance and me helping Lizzie in the kitchen. We helped her get the turkey ready and peeled potatoes for her. Elizabeth repaid us with shameless flirting and cheeky remarks. She was happy as a lark, with two men hanging on her every word in the close confines of the small room.
The afternoon, however was a different matter. Leaving her to tidy up, we grabbed a couple of sandwiches to tide us over until the big suppertime meal and then sat on the couch glued to the television. After all, there was football on! The turkey was in the oven and needed only the occasional basting, so we sat in the living room cheering. Lizzie had never liked football, and was soon bored.
At first, she huffed and pouted, sticking out her lip, flipping her auburn hair, and stamping her cute little feet, unhappy with the fact that she was no longer getting all the attention in the household. But after a while, she seemed to resign herself to the fact that we were more interested in the game. She returned to the kitchen to check on the turkey, then went to our room. Ten minutes later, I heard her clear her throat behind us.
“I don’t suppose anybody feels like giving me a hand with the stuffing for a minute…” she whined.