Stacy and Harold on the Fourth
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 by Ernest Winchester
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By Ernest Winchester
Stacy and Harold on the Fourth
The bus had an odor that was far from pleasant and the trip was just beginning. Harold settled back into his seat, grateful that the bus was not full enough that someone was in the seat beside him. This would allow him to stretch out and possibly get some sleep. At two AM he would have been surprised if it was more crowded but there were many towns to stop in and it was bound to pickup more passengers as the night went on. He had studied the schedule and determined that the trip would only average about thirty miles-per-hour what with all the stops. It was due to arrive in Stacy’s hometown around eleven-fifteen in the morning.
On a normal night he would be climbing into bed at that time or even be several hours into a decent night’s sleep. It was Wednesday night, or rather early Thursday morning, the third of July, and he was on his way to spend the holiday with his girlfriend Stacy. To be more precise with her family—a family he had yet to meet. The prospect had him a little nervous.
But the thought of Stacy brought a smile to his face in the dimly lit bus. Continued thoughts of her brought other reactions to his body. It had been over a month since he’d seen her and enjoyed the comfort of her soft, willing body. He was more than ready to become reacquainted with it, though he wondered just how much opportunity they would have to be together at her family’s cottage on the lake. As she had described it over the phone and in conversations while they were in school, it seemed a modest affair, small kitchen, small living room and an even smaller bedroom with nearly wall-to-wall beds, even though there were only two. He certainly couldn’t imagine getting her alone in the bedroom with all of the members of the family she said were coming out to the lake for the Fourth.
The bus vibrated violently as the engine started and with a loud hiss of brakes being released, it pulled away from the small depot and bounced across the curb that it had run upon when it arrived. The motion made the passengers within sway in unison like seaweed in a current. Within a few minutes the driver navigated the narrow side streets, then pulled out onto the nearly empty highway.
Harold pulled off his sweater that his mother had insisted he wear, saying that the bus would be air-conditioned, and rolled it into a ball, hoping it would be comfortable enough to substitute as a pillow. He pressed it into the crease between the seat back and the sidewall along the window frame and tried to position the side of his face into it.
He no more than found a position that allowed him to slip into a fuzzy level of sleep than the bus slowed enough to pitch him forward slightly and the sweater dropped, causing his head to bang against the window frame.
The bus jolted to a stop, the engine shut off and the driver disembarked to load another passenger’s luggage into the storage area below with a loud bang, followed by an even louder closing of the cargo cover.
This was repeated every twenty to thirty minutes until Harold woke to notice that the approaching sunrise was bringing the horizon into view. A glance at his watch informed him that there were another five hours to go to his destination. He tried to snuggle back in to sleep but the bus was filling more with each stop even though some passengers disembarked. Within an hour he had to relinquish the adjacent seat and he spent the next three hours in a one sided conversation with an elderly woman who gave him her life story. She left the bus a couple of towns before Harold’s destination and it was a quick stop for she had no luggage to unload.
At his destination, Harold retrieved his suitcase, confirming to the driver that it was his with his matching luggage tag, and backed away from the bus as it lumbered on its way. He glanced around, hoping that Stacy would be on time. The bus was. Eleven-fifteen, just as the schedule stated.
Suddenly a slender pair of arms surrounded his waist, giving him a firm squeeze. He tried to turn around but the grip was so tight that he carried his assailant around in a circle. A giggle rang out, a wonderfully familiar giggle.
“Come here you.”
“No. I’ve got you and I’m not letting go.”
Harold twisted his upper body, managed to loop his left arm around Stacy’s head and pried her loose, pulling her around where he could plant a heated kiss of reunion.
“Oh god, I miss that,” Stacy said, when the kiss finally ended, temporally.
“Me too.” And he locked onto her lips again.
“Hey you two, get a room.”
Harold looked around, not knowing who had spoken. He pulled her in closer. “Sounds like a good idea. Is there one available?” he whispered in her ear, knowing from their phone conversations that the family home was probably empty by then.
“Are you prepared?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Four.”
She giggled and pushed him away. “Optimistic aren’t you? Come on, let’s go. They’re waiting for us out at the cottage.”
“I’m starving. Is there a McDonald’s here?”
“There’s tons of food at the cottage.” She grabbed his hand and led him to a car parked around a corner on a side street. With his suitcase tossed into the backseat, they slid into the front and he immediately pulled her to him over the sedan’s console. As they kissed, he slid his hand down and cupped her breast, squeezing one, then quickly the other. He felt the ridge of a bra and recalled the game she had made of its removal the first time in her dorm room. He slid his hand around to the clasp at her back.
“Quit that,” she said, pushing away slightly, but the look in her eyes contradicted the tone of that statement.
“You like it.” His cock was starting to expand at the grope and remembrance.
She smirked, but after a split second glance at his crotch, turned to put the key in the ignition and started the car.
Stacy drove a few blocks before pulling into a small grocery store. “Need to grab a couple bags of ice,” she said, as she quickly got out.
With the plastic encased ice bags in a cooler in the trunk, they were back on the road.
“So how far is it?”
“About forty-five minutes. It’s on the north side of the lake. We have to circle around the west end to get there. It’s real rustic, you’ll love it. No electricity. No running water. The power lines only run along the south side.”
Harold reached out to feel her loose hair. “Your hair looks lighter, did you color it?”
“No. It’s probably just the sun. I’ve been out in it a lot this month.”
“Yeah, you do look tan.” He ran his fingers along her upper arm going on under the edge of her sleeveless blouse, where he pulled playfully on her bra strap.
She only smiled in response.
About twenty minutes into the trip, the road took a long sweeping curve down and around to the right. At the bottom was a small bridge and as they crossed it, Stacy said that the river below fed the lake. Harold leaned against the side window and looked over the railing of the bridge deck to view the small stream. A fish was visible, moving lazily in the clear ripples of water flowing over smooth stones. He had been born in a town on the Ohio River. What he was looking down into certainly wasn’t a river by comparison. It was a stream. Looking downstream, Harold caught a quick glimpse of the lake between the trees on either side of the streambed before the trees blocked his view. As far down as his view went, it didn’t look very big. He would not see it again until they arrived at the cottage.
“Oh, I see big foot’s been here again,” Stacy said, leaning forward to gaze ahead.
“What?” Harold leaned forward to see bright yellow footprints painted on the road, crossing at an angle. Each was two feet in length, complete with bare toes and spaced about five feet apart. With a chuckle Harold said, “Oh, cute. Who does that?”
“Well bigfoot of course.”
“In yellow paint?”
“He’s been wading through the swamp.”
Harold turned to see the footprints disappear in the distance behind them, then returned his attention to Stacy as she concentrated on the winding road.
“So how many people are going to be out there?” As he was talking, his fingers came to rest on her bare thigh and began creeping up under the hem of her shorts. He had turned sideways in his seat to watch her face for her reaction. His fingertips had nearly reached her panties when she suddenly slammed on the brake pedal. He looked up just in time to see the white fur on the upraised tail of a deer as it bounded into the trees to their left.
“Don’t do that. I’ve got to watch the road. There’s a lot of deer on this side of the lake. You need to help me watch for them.”
Harold settled back and pointed out two more deer in the trees alongside the road as they went along. “Do they hunt the deer around here?”
“Yeah, in the early winter. My uncle and his sons use the cottage for the two weeks of deer season.”
“Is one of them your gay cousin?”
“No, he’s on the other side of the family. I don’t think he could harm anything if he had to.”
The road changed from an oiled surface to a three-rut lane as the trees edged in closer to either side of the car.
“My god, this place is out in the boonies. How much longer?”
“Not much.”
As they pulled off that rutted lane, the road became little more than a pair of tire tracks but the trees abruptly no longer loomed high over them.
“About twenty years ago this area was logged off for the pulp mill and replanted with seedlings. When I was a little girl these trees weren’t much bigger than I was.”
Harold suddenly leaned forward, amazed that he could no longer see the road in front of them. “What the hell?”
Stacy laughed as she inched the car forward slowly, dropping the front end of the sedan over a steep incline. The road became a narrow trench in a sand ledge that dropped fifty feet to a level area beyond.
“How in the hell do you get back out of here?” Harold asked, nervously eyeing the sand banks to either side of the car.
“It takes a little talent climbing the sand hill.”
A couple of hundred yards beyond the bottom of the sand hill they approached a small building to the left. “Is this it?”
“No. This is our neighbor. We’re down a little farther.”
“My god, it seems so far out.”
“It always seems that way the first time out here.”
Shortly after she said that, they rounded a curve in the drive and came to an abrupt stop beside a simple, weather-beaten looking building supported on posts. There was another car parked beside the building. “Welcome to the Hacienda.” A sombrero hung on a limb of the tree that also held the nameplate proclaiming, ‘The Hacienda.’ “We hang the sombrero when we’re out here to let people know we’re here.”
Recalling a nameplate fastened to a tree beside the cottage they had passed moments before, Harold asked, “Does everyone name their cottages?”
“Pretty much.”
Harold glanced past the structure and out to the lake visible through scattered pine and birch trees. He could make out buildings on the opposite side of the lake. As lakes went, he was surprised how small it seemed.
“Just leave your suitcase in the car for now, unless you need something from it.”
“Not right away, I don’t think.” They exchanged flirtatious looks.
Stacy pushed a button on the car’s fob and Harold heard a clunk from the rear of the car. “Bring in the cooler and meet everyone.” She got out of the car and waited for him to remove the cooler from the trunk.
But as he hefted the plastic cooler, a loud bang behind him made him jump. Hearing laughter, he turned to see two boys about ten years old lighting another firecracker from a smoldering punk and threw it on the ground near his feet. After it went off, they turned and ran into the trees beyond the drive.
Stacy’s laughter brought his attention back to her as she stood beside the car waiting for him. “Meet the brat twins. They’re two more of my cousins.”
They circled the cottage and entered through a screened-in porch that had a view of the water. Inside was a middle-aged man reclining in a lawn chair, a can of beer in hand.
“Uncle Billy, this is Harold, a friend of mine from college.”
“How do you do young man, want a beer?”
“Oh, no thank you sir.”
“Watch your step here.” Stacy indicated a step up from the porch into the kitchen.
Harold peered over the cooler to see the step. Inside, two women were sitting at a small table. “Harold, this is my mom, Harriet, and this is her sister, my Aunt Mildred.”
Harriet rose from the table, telling Harold to set the cooler against the wall, then approached to embrace him in a tight hug. “It’s so good to finally meet you. We’ve heard so much about you.”
“Oh don’t believe all of it,” Harold said with a self-evasive chuckle. “I’m not half that bad.”
Stacy’s aunt stood in line to greet Harold in a like manner, snickering at his statement.
At the moment she clinched him, a string of firecrackers burst just outside the window. Harriet lifted her palms to her ears to block out the prolonged racket. “Sis, I swear! Why did you let the twins bring so many of those damn things?”
“Don’t blame me. I’m not the one that went across the state line to get them.”
Uncle Billy yelled out from the porch, “What’s the Fourth without some fireworks?”
“It’s not yet the Fourth.” Then turning back to Harold, Harriet asked, “Want something to drink? Here have a seat.” She pulled out one of the old-fashioned kitchen chairs for him.
“I’ve been sitting for hours on the bus and then the ride out here. It feels good to stand. But I would like something wet.” Harold glanced around, wondering about the tons of food Stacy had mentioned. All he had eaten during the trip was a fried egg sandwich and Twinkie that his mother had given him in a paper sack when he had boarded the bus many hours before.
“We’ve got pitchers of lemonade and ice tea in the frig.”
“Lemonade sounds good. I didn’t think you had electricity out here.”
“We don’t. The frig runs on bottled gas, same as the stove and the lights.” She gestured to a fixture attached to the wall that had a copper tube going from it to disappear behind the stove. “Stacy, get Harold a glass of lemonade.”
“Is dad still out in the boat?” Stacy asked as she handed Harold his glass. She then poured one for herself.
“Yes. He and Joseph said they weren’t coming in until they had enough fish for supper.”
“Well in that case, why don’t we go ahead and have lunch? They could be out there for hours.”
Harriet and her sister pulled out large matching bowls of potato salad and what looked to Harold to be macaroni salad along with platters of cold cuts and cheese. Loaves of bread were removed from a cabinet beside the brown, squat refrigerator. Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered that burning gas could make refrigeration, but he couldn’t remember the physics of how it worked. It seemed counterintuitive.
Sandwiches were made and placed on paper plates along with generous scoops of the salads. The paper plates were in turn, placed on woven wicker platters to support their lightweight.
“I’ve made you a plate Bill,” Mildred yelled out through the open kitchen door.
“Bring it out here.”
“Come in and get it, you lazy ass. And while you’re up, call in the twins.” There was no rancor in her voice that Harold could determine. He was quickly warming to the two sisters.
With the kitchen table full of unclaimed plates and the makings for more, Stacy nodded for Harold to follow her into the adjoining living room.
They sat on one of the two couches in the room and ate while Harold glanced around. It was obviously an addition. The walls were dark wood paneling, differing greatly from the kitchen, and the windows were a much different style as well. Even the gas lamp fixtures attached to the walls were different. The tubing feeding them had been hidden in the walls under the paneling.
“A very nice place,” Harold commented, between bites of his ham and cheese sandwich. It tasted wonderful, as did the salads.
“This room was added about five years ago. The kitchen was originally just a one-car garage. That was years ago. That’s why it’s so narrow.”
As Harold finished eating he began fidgeting. He’d only used the bathroom on the bus once. “I know you said there’s no running water but there must be some sort of bathroom,” he whispered, leaning in close to her ear.
Stacy giggled and pressed against his shoulder. “You know those trees out front? The pine trees are for the guys, the birch are for the girls.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
Stacy burst out laughing hard enough for her mother to turn and look through the open archway at the young couple sitting on the couch. “What are you laughing at, Stacy?”
“I was just explaining the bathroom trees out front.”
“Oh, your father’s old joke. Harold, go out and around the cottage. There’s an outhouse behind.”
“Oh, mom! I wanted to see if he’d use the trees.”
“You never mind watching him use the trees. Oh, and Harold, make sure that the padlock on the door is latched. The twins like to sneak up and lock people in if the lock is open.”
As Harold went around the building, he spotted the twins sitting at a small picnic table, eating. It seemed too small and fragile to hold an adult. As he walked by them, following the worn path that he assumed would lead him to his destination, they were leaning in close together and whispering.
“How is your firecracker supply holding out guys?” Harold asked in passing. They ignored him and continued whispering.
As he approached the small structure, he checked the padlock. It was in place in its latch and closed. Someone would need the key to unlock it, close the hasp and latch it back, locking anyone inside. He felt safe.
But as he stepped inside, the odor nearly made him gag. He hadn’t been in many outhouses in his life and the acrid smell reminded him of the worst of them. He quickly unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, trying to breath as shallow as possible until his business was done. If he needed a jump-start, he quickly got one when a burst of firecrackers went off just outside the door. Think Harold. You’re in college to become a teacher. This is what you’ll be dealing with. Only now he didn’t have the luxury of expelling these two.
When he stepped out, the twins were nowhere to be seen. Another passing thought occurred to him. If he could to get a chance to use one of the condoms he had brought with him, dropping it used down the shit hole was about the only option of disposal. Leaving one laying around on the ground where someone could spot it was not. Getting it there was a question. He considered going back into the outhouse and removing several sheets of toilet paper and tucking it into his pocket to use later to wrap a used condom in, but he decided against it. He had just arrived and they had three days to manage to get together as Stacy had hinted at during phone conversations.
His normal sense of hygiene was compelling him to wash his hands after taking the piss, doubly so after the stench of the outhouse and the unpleasant duty of lifting the grungy looking seat. But he had no way of knowing how they managed that without a sink and running water.
He was scheduled to return via bus the day after the Fourth and as far as he knew the only chance of taking a shower would be back at Stacy’s family home in town. They weren’t to return to it until the day of his departure and he was already feeling rank after all night on the bus. Hell, he hadn’t even brushed his teeth yet that day.
As Harold reentered the cabin, Stacy’s Uncle Billy asked him, “Did you find the right tree?” And burst out laughing. Apparently that was a standing family joke. A half finished plate of food was on a cooler beside his seat and Harold had little doubt that the cooler was full of beer on ice.
“No kidding Harold,” Stacy’s mother said, as he came back into the kitchen. “When Stacy’s dad and I bought this place—that was before she was born, and her sister was just a toddler—we didn’t even have the outhouse. So it was a trip into the bushes while we were out here building this place.”
Harold felt himself blush at that revelation. No wonder Stacy was so broad-minded. She obviously came from a very liberal thinking family.
He rejoined Stacy on the couch and they held hands for a while, engrossed in private conversation.
“Do you want to go swimming? You did bring trunks like I said, right?”
“Yeah. Is the water cold?”
“Sure, until you get used to it.”
“I’ll go get my suitcase. Is the car unlocked?”
“Yeah. We never lock them when we’re out here.”
When Harold reached the car however, he found that perhaps the car should have been locked for his suitcase had been partly unzipped and some of his clothes were partially yanked out. He could only hope that they hadn’t gotten in far enough to see his condoms. Shoving the clothes back in and zipping the case closed, Harold glanced around, wondering where the mischievous pair were. There hadn’t even been a firecracker explosion for several minutes to signify their whereabouts.
He took the suitcase inside and opened it in the living room, using the matching couch opposite where he and Stacy had been sitting, which was around the corner and out of sight of those sitting at the kitchen table. Checking to see if anything was missing and finding the condoms still safely tucked away in an inside pocket, he removed his swimming trunks. There was no door between that room and the kitchen, making Harold wonder where he should change. Stacy had disappeared and he had no idea where she had gone. He brought the suitcase back into the kitchen, placing it in a corner where it would be visible to any of the adults in the room and hopefully safe from any prying hands. As he glanced around, Harriet noticed his puzzled look.
“You can go into the bedroom to change. Just pull the curtain. We won’t peek.”
“Speak for yourself, Sis,” Mildred said, with a boisterous laugh.
Harold stepped into the bedroom and pulled closed the curtain that he had failed to notice before. The room was the same width as the kitchen but much shorter. A pair of standard sized beds, placed side-to-side, filled most of the room leaving a narrow passageway between them. They were not matched in their placement, however, for the head of one was in the opposite corner from the other. A very old looking dresser was at the foot of one and in the opposite corner from it was a metal rack that held lifejackets. A single window was near the dresser but curtains had been closed across it so that little light came into the room. Harold glanced back to the curtain that he had just closed and as his eyes adjusted to the dim room, he realized the cloth was rather thin and he could clearly make out the silhouettes of the two sisters sitting at the table. Taking a deep breath, he pulled his shirt over his head, dropped it on one of the beds and kicked off his shoes before unbuckling his pants.
As he pulled down the zipper, the voice of Mildred came through the curtain. “Is that a zipper I hear?”
Harold was further startled to hear Billy’s voice clearly through the bedroom window, realizing that he was only a few feet away on the other side of the wall and that the window was open.
“You never mind his zipper. That’s Stacy’s territory.” Billy let out a laugh.
“Billy, that’s my daughter you’re talking about now. I’m sure Harold is a perfect gentleman, right Harold?”
“Oh, yes ma’am.” Oh god, what am I into here.
Laughter rang out from all three of the middle-aged people and Harold sensed instantly that no one believed him. After pulling on his trunks, he wondered where to put his clothes, not sure if they would be safe from the twins if he left them out on the bed. He was afraid it might be too obvious if he put them inside his suitcase, so he arranged them on the dresser, carefully stacking them so he could tell if they should be moved before he returned.
As he pulled the curtain aside and stepped out of the bedroom, Stacy came in through the porch. She was wearing a bikini and he wondered where she had changed. The three small pieces of black cloth barely covered her strategic spots and Harold tried but failed to not stare. They made eye contact and Stacy smiled coyly, sensing his fascination at seeing her body. She was carrying her clothes and went into the bedroom, coming out seconds later without them. She grabbed his hand and led him out to the beach.
There was a two-foot drop off from the cottage’s gently sloping lawn to the beach but only a few feet of sand to the gentle waves lapping at it. A few toys, plastic bucket and shovel, and a rusty Tonka truck, were on the narrow sandy beach. The water felt icy cold as Harold stepped into it, being pulled out farther in Stacy’s grip.
“Oh damn, that’s cold!”
“Get it in quick, that’s the best way.” Then to reinforce that idea, she began scooping water with her free hand, splashing it on him.
He retaliated and she squealed, turning her head to avoid most of the onslaught. She continued pulling him out into deeper water until the small waves were up around his chest and slightly above her breasts that bounced in the waves.
“These look cold,” She said, plucking at his tightly puckered nipples.
“I think they are numb.”
“How about this?” She reached down and grabbed his cock, squeezing it through his trunks. “Oh, my goodness, what happened to it?”
“It’s shriveled from the cold water.”
“That’s too bad. I guess we’ll have no fun with it today.”
“I don’t know where we could go to have some fun anyway.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll have a chance. While we’re out here, be sure to clean it. I’ve got plans for it later.”
“I didn’t bring a bar of soap.”
“Just do the best you can. This is roughing it honey, you have to get by.”
Harold pulled his waistband out and slipped his hand inside, trying his best to clean the shrinking flesh. Stacy slid her hand in with his and cupped his testicles, “I think they are trying to crawl inside where it’s warm.”
“I don’t blame them.” He had his back to the cottage so no one there could see what was going on, though anyone spying on them, might well have guessed, standing face-to-face as they were.
She released his balls, what little grip she had on them, and moved up to grasp his cock. Harold pulled his hands out and draped his arms around Stacy’s neck pulling her in for an intense kiss as she began pumping his cock.
It was quickly evident that a war was on between the effect of the cold water and the heat of the joined lips. With the reinforcements of the tongues into the battle, headway toward the passionate forces’ side was quickly evident. Surprisingly, Harold felt his cock beginning to respond just as two additional elements entered the skirmish. The twins were splashing into the water, coming up behind him.
“Oh, shit!” he muttered, as Stacy pulled her hand out of his trunks and moved sideways to address her cousins.
“Does your mother know you’re swimming?”
“Yes. She said you’d watch us.”
“Great!”
Harold turned to face them and waded toward them as they reached a point where they had to tread water. They tried to thwart his advance by shoveling water towards him with the palms of their hands while dog paddling at the same time, but he managed to ward off the slim volleys of water until he reached them. Taking the top of a head in each hand, he shoved them under.
He would have loved to hold them down for ten minutes or more but didn’t think that would bode well with the family he’d just met. When he released them, they came up spitting, sputtering and cussing him with some very adult language. He’d lost track of Stacy until she sprang from the water and landed on his back with her arms around his neck, laughing loudly. He stumbled forward and the twins quickly joined the tussle, grabbing an arm apiece. In an instant all four were underwater.
They came up slinging water from their faces and gasping for air. Harold had the advantage of being able to stand on the muddy bottom and he swept Stacy into his arms before throwing her into the air. She landed on her butt, quickly going under with a resounding splash.
“Throw me, throw me,” one of the twins insisted. Harold interlaced his fingers to form a stirrup and the young boy placed his foot in it to be cast completely out of the water. His lightweight body splashed back in several feet away. The other twin was next, yelling, “Do me, do me.” And he was cast through the air.
Stacy came up to face Harold, parting her wet hair from her face. With a devilish look in her eyes, she said, “Yeah, do me.” She lifted her leg and placed her foot in Harold’s cupped fingers, rubbing the tops of her curled-under toes across his cock. They grinned at each other as she continued playing.
“Come on, throw her, I’m next,” one of the twins insisted.
Harold lingered, then said, “On the count of three.” He bounced her lightly twice while she gripped his shoulders, then on the count of three she was cast high in the air and curled into a ball to cannonball back into the water.
The game continued, and on one of Stacy’s turns her bra strap slipped down her right shoulder leaving that cup unsupported. As she was hurled into the air, the weight of the water inside the bra cup jerked it down and she flew upward with her right breast completely exposed.
Harold turned to see the next twin in line staring very bug eyed. He had obviously just gotten an eyeful of his cousin.
“Okay guys, I need a rest.”
“No fair. Jr. got one more turn than I did,” Grumbled the twin who had been underwater when his brother had gotten a glimpse of their shapely cousin.
Harold smirked, knowing that they would soon compare notes and he would really find out what he had missed. He hadn’t been formally introduced to the twins, and even if he had, he’d have had a hard time telling them apart.
Harold turned back in time to see Stacy lower herself in the water and adjust her bra while she was giving him a seductive look, her tongue out.
The game was further halted as an aluminum fishing boat passed the four out toward the opposite side of the lake, even though it was no more than a fifty yards at most. Stacy turned at the sound of the motor and waved as the two men in the boat returned the wave.
Harold was certain that it was a neighbor judging by the way it seemed to be passing them until the motor throttled down and the boat made a slow turn to cut obliquely back across the face of the area where they were.
“Okay boys, we need to go back in now.”
“No, we want to swim more,” they protested in unison.
“I’ve got to go introduce Harold to dad. You can come into the shore area. You know the rules, only waist deep.”
He heard the twins grumble as he and Stacy waded in and he looked back to see them whispering, their eyes firmly fixed on Stacy. One held his hand out in front of his chest, demonstrating the size of her breast. They were so engrossed with staring at their cousin that they failed to notice Harold scrutinizing them. He had to turn away to keep from laughing when he saw the look of abject disappointment register on the other brother’s face.
Harold looked out as they reached the beach and wondered, as the boat again seemed to be passing by them at an angle. It circled back on the other side of a large tree laying flat in the water, its upended roots sticking high in the air and its opposite end disappearing into the waves.
“Is this your dad and, who is it, Joseph?”
“Yeah. Dad and Joseph have been fishing buddies for years. He lost his wife last year and dad invited him out for the Fourth so he won’t be alone.”
“Why didn’t your dad come in straight instead of zigzagging like he did?”
“It’s too shallow over there, he’d bottom out or get the prop tangled in the grass. You have to follow the creek bed in from the other side. The lake is deep over on that side where the riverbed is.”
“So this is a man-made lake?”
“Yes.”
As Stacy was explaining all that, they were walking along a path that went past an old-fashioned hand pump mounted atop a steel pipe. “I guess this is your water supply?”
“Yeah. It has to be primed when we use it.”
They crested a very low rise and came down to the water’s edge as the boat took another turn to come in straight, just inside the tree trunk. The two men in the boat were shouting at one another over the sound of the outboard motor, but Harold couldn’t make out what they were saying. One was in the bow of the craft as it slowed and coasted to the bank. Harold saw that the man’s eyes were fixed on Stacy and he didn’t have the look of a father staring at his daughter. The man’s intent look was broken when the keel of the boat crunched into the gravel of the bank. He jumped out, pulled the boat farther out of he water as the man in the stern tilted the motor and locked it into a partly raised position. He arranged some things in the bottom of the boat and opened a lid to lift a stringer of fish, showing the day’s catch.
There looked to be at least four good-sized fish on the stringer and one or two were still flipping tails in protest. He dropped the stringer over the side into the water and attached the end to a bracket at the stern of the boat. The chain of the stringer rattled against the aluminum side as some of the fish fought in vain to escape.
The man, whom Harold assumed to be Joseph, held onto the edges of the boat to steady it as the other man worked his way toward the bow, gingerly stepping over seats and arranging things as he went. The ends of oars were tucked into the area under the bow and he leaned over the side to wash his hands in the lake water.
Stepping out of the boat, he stood erect, stretching his back as he ran his hands over the plaid flannel shirt to dry them.
Stacy grabbed Harold‘s hand and pulled him forward. “Dad, I want you to meet Harold, my friend from college.”
“How do you do, Harold. Good to meet you.” The older man stuck out his still wet hand.
“It’s a pleasure Mr. Winters.” His were still wet from swimming.
“Oh, please, call me Matt.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And this is my buddy, Joseph. He had most of the luck with the fish today. If it had been up to me we’d have slim pickin’s tonight.”
Harold looked the man straight in the eyes as he shook his hand knowing he wanted desperately to look at Stacy standing beside him with so much flesh exposed. But Joseph managed to glance at her as he acknowledged her presence seconds later, his eyes quickly traveling down.
“Dad, are you going to clean the fish right away?”
“No, I’m going in to have a beer and relax for a bit, why?”
“I thought I’d take Harold out for a ride down the lake.”
“Well let me get the stringer then. I’ll tie it to the bank.”
“I’ll get it dad.” Stacy nimbly jumped over the side of the boat, her ass cheeks nearly fully exposed as she bent over to unhook the stringer. She brought the fish back to hand to her dad.
“Well, give me the poles, the green tackle box and the worm can in case the twins want to bank fish. You weren’t going to fish while you’re out, where you?”
“No, we’re just going for a ride. Harold doesn’t have a fishing license for this state any way, I don’t think.”
“No, I don’t. Not for any state actually.”
“Well you don’t want to pull an Uncle Billy, then,” everyone but Harold laughed, leaving him out of the joke. He grinned to show camaraderie, though he felt silly doing it. Stacy handed the fishing equipment to her dad, and then settled into the operator’s position at the stern.
“We want to go, we want to go.” The twins had arrived at the bank.
“I’ll take you out later. You don’t have your life vests.”
“Don’t go too far down. I’ve got to refill the gas tank for tomorrow.”
“We’ll just be gone for a little while. Get in Harold.”
Amid continued protests from the twins, Harold pushed the boat away from the bank and climbed into the bow. The boat wobbled wildly until Harold settled onto the middle seat. Stacy pulled the motor up to release the catch and eased it into position as the boat drifted slowly backward into deeper water. Her hands moved about the outboard motor, changing settings, pulling levers and then yanked on the rope that started the motor. She moved a lever on the side and with a solid clunk, the boat backed farther away from the bank before turning sharply with her pivot of the tiller to point the bow out into the lake. With another change of the side lever, the boat started forward, retracing the path it had taken coming in a few minutes before.
As they moved out into the lake, Harold looked over the area that Stacy had said was too shallow for the boat and he could see grass just below the surface. He wondered how she could so easily tell where the deep part was from her seat at the stern, for they were skimming close to the grass. Stacy twisted the throttle on the tiller and the fishing boat picked up speed until it approached the opposite bank. She slowed, made the turn to run parallel to the shore and resumed speed as they headed down the lake.
Harold was sitting facing Stacy so he could not see where they were going but he enjoyed the view looking back at her as she stared into his eyes, occasionally glancing away to keep the boat on course. Her big breasts jiggled delightfully in unison with the waves that pounded the craft and she had a grin that usually meant she was thinking of something devilish. He recalled that look the day she had insisted that they should go streaking on campus.
As they sped on down the lake, Harold noticed that the banks became farther apart and it was looking more like what he thought a lake should be. Still the body of water seemed far longer end-to-end than side-to-side. Glancing back to the area they had left, Harold could no longer see the cottage or the swimming area they had frolicked in shortly before. Turning to the sides, he could see a few cottages well off to the left and to the right was mostly unbroken forest.
After another five minutes, Stacy throttled back the motor and the bow that had been riding high, dropped. Another twist on the control and suddenly the only noise was the water lapping against the bow as the boat slowed to drift in the current. It turned slightly and Stacy turned the tiller to the side and stared at Harold.
He sensed he should say something but with the grin still plastered on her lips, he wasn’t sure what was safe. The only thing more mischievous than it was the impish look in her eyes.
“So, what was the joke about your Uncle Billy and a fishing license?”
“You’ll have to ask him when we get back. And speaking of things like that, the cushion you’re sitting is a floatation device. Everyone out in a boat has to have one. If you think we’re going to turn over, grab it.”
“Would the one I’m on hold two?”
“Let’s see.” Stacy moved toward him, spreading her thighs to settle onto his lap, pressing her pussy against his cock. “Seems like a good fit to me.”
“I’ll say.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and their lips merged. Their tongues quickly followed. He drew his hands back to slide his fingertips inside the lower half of her bikini, squeezing her ass cheeks. “These are the only floatation devices I need. Or maybe this.” He withdrew his left hand to pull the bra strap down exposing her right breast. A narrow white triangle ran vertically down her breast. Cupping the large mammary, he pulled it up to meet his face, lapped his tongue around the nipple and sucked it in fiercely.
As her nipple engorged in Harold’s mouth, Stacy tipped her head back moaning, “Oh, god that’s good.” Her fingers were locked in his disheveled red hair.
Harold suddenly laughed hard enough to dislodge the swollen bulb.
“What?” She looked down.
“I think that’s what your cousin was thinking when he saw it.”
“Oh yes. I thought I recognized that look. Why do you men start so young?”
“No different than that old guy, Joseph. He was all but drooling while staring at you.”
“Now don’t tell me you’re going to get jealous over a man old enough to be my father?”
“I guess he can’t help it if he lost his wife last year. That’d be a long time to go without pussy.”
It was Stacy’s turn to laugh. “Hell, he’s been looking at me like that since I was thirteen.”
“Doesn’t your dad say anything to him?”
“Harold, if my dad said something to every man who looked at me like that, he’d have to confront to every man what walks by. Including you, Mr. South. Don’t you remember the conversation we had that first time you were in my dorm room?”
“The only thing I remember about that day was how good the fucking was.”
“Oh, and none since?”
“Every time since.”
“Oh, shit! Here comes a boat.” Stacy pulled her bra back into place.
“If it’s the game warden, do I need a license to hunt pussy?” He leaned down and kissed her neck.
“Only if your gun is overloaded and in danger of going off.” Stacy giggled and squirmed her pussy against his hardening cock.
“I think it’s going to go off at any second.” His cock did feel as if it could explode. It had a month’s worth of priming and his groin was searing with heated urgency.
Stacy clasped her hands against his cheeks and was kissing him as the other boat slowed in passing. The lone passenger let out a wolf whistle across the expanse of water between the boats. She turned and waved. “Wave Harold, we’re all friendly here out on the lake.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
Stacy let Harold have a turn driving the boat on the way back but took over when they neared the shallows. “I have to take it in, I know where the riverbed is.”
“You look like you’ve been doing this for years.”
“I have. I’ve driven this boat since I was twelve.”
As they eased back into the cove that was a submerged creek bed, Harold saw the twins in lifejackets waiting. He jumped over the side to wet himself so that a fresh wet spot in the crotch of his trunks wouldn’t show where a load of cum had finally been released when Stacy’s wriggling cunt, had dry humped him to orgasm. He had returned the favor, giving her relief as he pulled the bikini crotch aside and buried his fingers deep inside her folds as she writhed on his lap. Her G spot was a sensitive as ever.
“Oh, you can’t swim on this side. There’s fishhooks on the bottom.” One of the twins informed him.
“We fish here and swim over there,” the other boy said, pointing back to where they had been an hour before.
“Oh, okay.” Harold pulled the boat ashore, cringing with each step, until he was safely out of the water. He held the boat steady while the twins scrambled in. He snickered to himself as the boys took the center seat, facing Stacy, then pushed them out for their trip. You little buggers, he though, knowing they had positioned themselves to stare at their older cousin’s large, shapely boobs.
A few steps back along the path, Harold encountered Stacy’s dad cleaning the fish on a plank nailed to a pair of posts. “What kind did you catch?” He knew his ignorance was showing, not knowing the fish at a glance.
“Small mouth…bass,” Matt added. “We caught a couple of small pike but I don’t like to bother with them unless they are big enough to cut into steaks. I knocked them in the head and threw them back. We’d like to keep the pike out of the lake, but I’m afraid it’s a loosing battle. They swim up through the gates at the dam when they open them to lower the water level in the fall.” Suddenly changing the subject he asked, “So, how far did you two go?”
Oh, shit. What did he mean? Oh, maybe he only meant how far down the lake. “Well, I don’t know. The lake got a lot wider down there.”
“Yeah, it spreads out pretty quickly after Cooper’s Point.”
Spread? The image of Stacy’s thighs spread across his lap with his fingers working in her cunt flashed across his mind. He shook his head, trying to remove the image with her father standing near him.
“You weren’t gone long enough to get anywhere near the dam. It’s about seven miles down. We’re near the headwaters here. It’s only about two miles to the bridge you crossed coming in. Did you see the A frame?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, you didn’t go very far at all.”
Yes we did. Oh, shit. I’ve got to get out of this conversation. “I guess I’ll go ask your brother-in-law about his fishing license.”
The older man burst out laughing. “Yeah, he’ll show you.”
Harold entered the porch where Uncle Billy was in the same chair as earlier—cooler to one side—a pile of empties to the other. He was getting glassy eyed.
“I hear you can give me advice about getting a fishing license?”
Inside the kitchen, the two sisters burst out laughing. “Yeah, Bill, show him,” Mildred called out.
But instead of getting out of his chair, Uncle Billy merely pointed to his left where a corkboard was mounted to the wall. Above it was a set of deer antlers attached to the wall but in the middle of the corkboard, amid pictures of people holding fish or posing with dead deer, were two pieces of paper, yellowed with age. One was a ticket dated several years before for a violation of fishing without a license. It was attached to a piece of paper with a quotation printed in ink, “Don’t worry Uncle, they never come out here.”
Harold suppressed a chuckled, not knowing how bad the fined was. “So, I guess they did come out here?”
Billy pointed off in the direction of the boat landing, “The bastard was sitting there in his jeep and smoky-bear hat waiting for me to come in. I don’t fish any more, to hell with them.” He dropped his empty beer can to his right and opened the cooler to fish out another can.
Harold went into the bedroom and found that his clothes didn’t appear to have been moved. He double-checked his wallet. The condom was still there, as was the small amount of cash he had brought with him. When he came back out Harriet said, “If you want to wash up before supper there is a basin under the cabinet out on the porch and a bar of soap inside too. It’ll be at least a couple of hours though. I’ve got a kettle of water heating here on the stove but everyone will want to use some, so use it sparingly. Also if you want to change out of your trunks later, there is a clothesline between the trees out back to hang them.”
Harold went out to the cabinet and found the washbasin and soap. He took the basin out to the pump but quickly found that working the handle did nothing, remembering what Stacy had said about it needing priming.
“Hey Harold, come in the kitchen a second,” Harriet called out through the end window. He went back in carrying the empty washbasin.
“Do you know how to prime a pump?”
“Stacy said it had to be done but I’m not sure how. You pour water in it first I guess.”
“Yes. But the water you pour in must be clean or else you have to pump for a while to clear the pipe.” She handed him a plastic pail that had a small amount of water in it. “Pour this in the top while working the handle. The water will form a seal and then it will draw the water from underground. Fill this bucket with clean water and bring it back in for drinking water. Then you can go get some in the basin. The pump will hold a prime for several minutes so don’t delay too long.”
“’Roughing it,’ Stacy said.”
“Yes,” she chuckled.
After he brought in the full pail, he quickly went out and half filled the basin with freshly pumped water. It was very cold he quickly discovered. He brought the partly filled basin back into the porch where he placed in on the cabinet where it had been stored and Harriet met him with the kettle to add hot water. He poured in just enough to warm it slightly, conscious of the number of others who would need some.
“There are towels in the bottom.”
“Thank you.”
Harold washed his face and neck with his soap-covered hands. He would have loved to do more; still uncomfortable with the knowledge that there was cum in his trunks. He was sure that the quick dip into the lake water had done little more than dilute the thick deposit his cock had made there. He wished he’d had the nerve to remove the trunks while in the middle of the lake and do a thorough job of rinsing them over the side of the boat. But he didn’t have the courage to do so, especially after Stacy told him that most people in the cottages along both shores owned a pair of binoculars and he shouldn’t show much above the sides of the boat. She assured him that they were probably drawing enough curious onlookers with their odd actions—their tight embrace in the boat and lack of fishing poles to explain their presents in the middle of the lake. By the time their orgasms had subsided he felt as if they had put on a porn show.
“Where should I throw away the water?” he asked.
“In the bushes down to the right. That used to be the ladies bathroom.” A chorus of laughter rang out from the kitchen.
Harold emptied the pan and returned to the pump to further rinse it for the next user. As he was about to put it back where he had found it, Uncle Billy called out to him, “Just leave it on top. It’ll get used a lot soon. You sure you don’t want a beer?”
“Oh, no. Thank you anyway.” He knew he needed to keep his head clear with all that was going on. And drinking beer would just mean more trips to the outhouse.
He went back out into the yard, wondering what to do with himself. He was tempted to wade out into the lake to clean his trunks better but then he’d need to wash his hands again. Listening intently, he failed to hear the motorboat; not knowing how long Stacy would be gone with the twins. He felt he was trapped in alien territory without his trusty guide, despite how friendly everyone was being toward him. It also occurred to him that he hadn’t seen Joseph anywhere around the cottage. Even though Stacy seemed to take Joseph’s leering looks in stride, Harold was quite annoyed with the man. But what Stacy said was true, with a body like hers; it would be hard for any man to not admire it. Especially in the bikini she was wearing. Damn she looks good!
“Hey, Harold, do you need something to do?” Harriet called out through the side window this time.
“Do you want me to bring some more water?”
“No. Behind the cottage near the outhouse there is a shed. If you don’t mind, would you go back there and bring a barbecue grill and a bag of briquettes around to the front. There is a can of lighter on a shelf too.”
“Be glad to.”
Minutes later as Harold was rolling the grill around the cottage, Matt was coming up from the fish cleaning area with a pan of the fish ready to be fried, “Looks like the women are keeping you busy.”
“Yes sir.”
It wasn’t long after finishing the chore for Stacy’s mother, when Harold heard the motorboat approaching so he went over to the landing to meet it. He grabbed the bow and held it steady as the twins scampered out and ran up the path toward the cabin. He continued holding it as Stacy positioned the motor and then made her way to the bow. As she stepped out of the boat, she drew out a yellow nylon rope and attached its clip to a nearby heavy iron plate that had an eyelet welded to its surface.
Harold glanced quickly back up the path to see no one within sight, then stepped behind Stacy as she was still bent over the anchor. Grabbing her hips, he pressed his groin against her ass and thrust, knocking her slightly off balance. She recovered quickly and wriggled her behind against him. She turned to glance up the path as well, then straightened to whirl and face him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply but kept her tongue to herself. “No ass fucking this time,” she whispered in his ear.
“How about your pussy?”
“Maybe.”
“Where?”
“Are you really that horny after a while ago?”
“Yes!”
“Aren’t you getting any hometown pussy this summer?”
“No, of course not. Have you gotten with any old boyfriends?”
Stacy leaned back to look deeply into his eyes. They were suddenly cold, blue and very serious. “No I haven’t Harold. Lots of offers though.” This last brought a smile back to her lips.
“I can imagine.” He leaned back to take a long look down her succulent body. “New bikini this year?”
“Yes, how do you know?”
“Last year you had a one piece. Your belly was white. Now you’ve got a lot more out to tan.” He placed his hand on her belly and slid it down to cup her mons. The other went across to squeeze her breast as the fingers passed inside the material.
“You like?”
“Yes!” The word came out long and hissing, like a snake’s sound. And so do Joseph and the twins. He knew better than voice that last thought. But he couldn’t resist asking, “Did the twins enjoy the boat ride?”
“The little shits never took their eyes off my boobs. Especially Matt.”
“One of them is named after your father?”
“Yeah. Mom only had us two girls, so Aunt Mildred named one after my father and the other William Junior.”
“William and Matthew. Junior and Matt?”
“Yeah.”
“And Matt was the one who didn’t get his voyeuristic share?”
“Apparently.”
“Well, don’t you think you should flash him just to be fair?” he said with a grin.
“Never mind, asshole. They’re growing up too fast as it is.”
“Speaking of growing…” Harold pressed his hard cock into her stomach.
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(Pages 1-32 show above.)