Okay, this is basically what happened: this cute older guy turned me down. Turned me down. Turned my pussy down. Unbelievable. I can see the disbelief on your face, and you’re mostly right because, when all was said and done, he realized what kind of lady I was. 

I was sunning myself on a blow-up raft (one of the expensive, good ones, duh) and had drifted to the far side of the lake where there weren’t any cabins. It’s not that I mind sunbathing nude around people (God didn’t give me a rack like this to keep it covered up), but Mom and Daddy have a fit when I do. 

“Have some respect for yourself, Hyacinth!” 

“Pffftt, Daddy.” 

Basically, what I like to do is get warm under the sun, roll off the raft to swim and get cool, then get warm again. I have to swim naked because my bikini tops or bottoms tend to fall off, and that would be embarrassing. I just stuff them into the little cup holder on the raft until I’m done or until I get unwanted company. 

I was climbing back onto my float when I saw a guy at a distance, fishing in a rowboat that was drifting in my direction. It’s always safer to cover up in these situations because you don’t want to send the wrong message if the guy is, you know, a loser. No offense to you losers. 

He wasn’t paying attention to where the breeze was taking him, which I thought was odd because isn’t paying attention to the fish basically what you do when you fish? His back was toward me too, so, I shouted, “Ahoy!” to let him know that he had to be the one to move, because I was there first, and I’m sure that’s maritime law. 

Well, he turned around and took off his goofy hat and said, “Oops. Sorry.” 

You’re not going to believe this, but I should have left my top off because this guy was fucking gorgeous. He was kind of old, but he was fucking gorgeous. He had a day’s salt-and-pepper growth, and his hair was all over the place (but it was all there), and he probably hadn’t showered but he was F-U-C-K-I-N-G gorgeous. 

Let me start with his eyes. They were as blue as the sky and just as bright, and the way the sun hit the side of his face really made his lashes look super long. 

“What mascara do you use?” It’s a reflex. I see nice lashes, I ask. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing-nothing-nothing,” I said. “Pffftt, no, who said that?” I was sure he had forgotten about it right away. He had nice broad, muscular shoulders, but not too muscular, sticking out from a T-shirt that had the arms torn off. I thought he might have been an electrician or something because of the lightning bolt and “Ack-dick” or something on it. 

He reached for the oars and smiled. “I’ll get right out of your way.” Guys his age are usually grumpy (Daddy, my teachers, you know…), but his was a genuinely happy smile. 

I probably smiled back (another reflex) but made myself play it cool. “No worries. I was afraid that my float would hurt your boat if you ran into it.” 

He thought that was funny, and it was because I have a great sense of humor and often say funny things that make people laugh without even meaning to. As he was spinning the boat around, I asked if he was here with his family because any son of his would be a really good friend of mine. 

“Nope. It’s just me,” he said. 

I told you how good he looked from the back, right? And I told you how good-looking he was. Well, when I got to see his full front, well, be still my beating heart. My imagination kept flip-flopping between him in a tux and not in a tux. “You left your wife and son back home, huh?” 

He chuckled again and said, “No, no sons or wives, or daughters either.” 

“I’m Hyacinth.” 

(You got it that when I said, “not in a tux,” I meant him being naked, right?) 

“Hi Hyacinth. I’m Dale.” 

I tried to convince him to stay by lying about all the fish I saw while swimming, but he said it was getting a little late (which I didn’t understand because it was only nine or so in the morning) and that he’d try his luck again tomorrow. “I’ll see you around!” I promised as he rowed away. 

Strapping the raft’s rope around my ankle, I gave him a bit of a head start so he wouldn’t know that I was following him. I’m a strong swimmer (I’d have to be, you know, ‘cause dragging the girls through the water gives a whole new meaning to ‘breaststroke’), and I have great lung capacity (‘cause the girls give a whole new meaning to ‘lungs’), so it was easy to keep up. 

Except, I had to stop once to recover my bikini top. I know they make tops that stay on when you swim, but they don’t look as good. 

Once I saw which cabin was his, I drew a mental map of how I’d get from our cottage to his place. It’s not like I was spying on him. It’s not like I was using a telescope or anything. 

And it’s not like I cared, which I didn’t, but basically, if I wanted him naked and on top of me, or me on top of him, or me gracefully bent over a chair while he gracefully fucked the bad girl out of me, then I’d have to get to know him better. The best way for me to start to get to know him better would be to watch him without him knowing it. 

“If boobs were brains,” my business school professors used to say. I believe I just made their point. 

After tying my raft to our private dock, I went up to my room to change. 

“Cover yourself, Hyacinth!” 

“Pffftt, Daddy. I’m already going.” Daddy’s such a prude. He should be more like his friends. 

Blending into the woodsy environment was important, so I chose a tube top and denim jumper, which was basically bibbed coveralls and short shorts that covered basically nothing. It was almost noon, and I trudged along the path singing a little hiking song: Don’t lose Daddy’s good binoculars again. Don’t lose Daddy’s good binoculars again… 

Not that the binoculars did any good—it was too dark inside for me to see much through the windows. His cabin was nice, not as nice as our cottage, which was the nicest one on the little lake, but it was nice enough. His was kept well, and there were cute curtains and quaint shutters, and a little flower garden, and a welcome mat that said, well, “Welcome.” 

I thought he did a nice job even though he wasn’t married and then I thought, O-M-G, what if he’s gay? That would have made fucking him more difficult, I figured, because I didn’t think gay men basically liked fucking girls, and if they did, would they have to be lesbians? Then I realized how silly that string of thoughts was; an old, dead girlfriend probably helped him make his cabin pretty. 

Pffftt. 

Knocking on Dale’s door and throwing myself at him was an option, but I decided to be chill. Then he stepped outside. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. I would have been a happy camper if he never, ever, wore a shirt again. I believed him now that he wasn’t a dad ‘cause that was no dad bod I was looking at, nuh-uh. 

“Hyacinth! Small world, or, at least, small lake.” 

Take off your pants, take off your pants… “Oh. What a coincidence,” I said with fluttering lashes. I could have been an actress. 

“Birdwatching? Hunting for chipmunks?” 

Take off your—”Huh?”—pants. 

“The binoculars.” 

I swiftly improvised and told him that bird hunting was exactly what I was doing, and casually threw in that I wasn’t looking into any cabin windows because that would be wrong. He chuckled and told me I was funny. Once again, I was saved by my quick wit. I charmed my way into his cabin, which was the first part of my unplanned master plan to charm my way into his shorts. 

He was sipping a beer as he gave me a tour which did not include the bedroom, but I figured out where it was. “I’m forgetting my manners,” he said. “I have some root beer here somewhere, or maybe a diet-something. I have lots of ice in the cooler.” 

I ignored the implication that I needed a diet beverage and told him that I’d have what he was having. 

“I don’t think your parents would appreciate it if I gave you a beer.” 

That confused me. “Why would they care?” 

“You know—giving their under-twenty-one daughter alcohol.” 

“I’m twenty-one,” I told him. 

“Sure.” 

I couldn’t believe that I was getting carded by a random hunk in the woods for a simple beer. I’d have happily shown him my license except for the way my outfit hugged my ass, there was no way to fit it into the pocket. I almost showed him my tits and asked if they looked over twenty-one (because that had worked on bartenders for years), but instead I chose to pout. 

“What the hell,” he said and pulled a beer out of the cooler for me. I took it even though it wasn’t in a bottle, and it was domestic, and it wasn’t a light beer. I was in the woods, and I could rough it with the best of them. 

Dale put on a t-shirt (aww), and we chatted for a while. I told him about my big twenty-first birthday party four months ago, and I told him about graduating from business school (which was basically just as hard as a regular college). “I’ll put my certificate to good use once Daddy finds just the right job for me,” I assured him. He told me some stuff about himself too, but mostly he just listened. 

“So,” I said, initiating my plan. “No fish today, huh? That’s too bad. I guess that means you’ll have to go out for dinner.” 

“No, I have food. I’ll try fishing again in the morning.” 

Not if I’m giving you a blowjob you won’t. That is, if I was still there in the morning. I hardly ever stayed overnight. I can’t think of a good example now, but there was that one time that we both fell asleep, but he woke up and kicked me out before the sun came up. I still think that technically counted as overnight. 

“You don’t need to pretend around me,” I assured him. “I could show you where the good restaurants are around here.” None of the good places were in this town because, eww, townies, but there were bigger towns nearby. 

Dale, my failing date, said no thanks. He turned down my offer to let him buy me a nice dinner. I wasn’t about to let him see me sulk, so I politely left without finishing my beer. I tried to convince myself all the way back that it was for the best because why would I want to fuck an old man who drinks canned domestic beer anyway?  

Because he was f-u-c-k-i-n-g gorgeous, that’s why. “Daddy, what time do fish wake up?” I asked after I was in the safety of our cottage. He told me and I giggled. “No, really?” 

~~~ 

I forced myself to get out of bed early, but not that early. It was hot and muggy and there were a couple of families already over at the shoddy community beach. I spotted Dale with Daddy’s second-best binoculars (he caught me sneaking out with the good ones). Dale wasn’t far from where we had met before, so I hopped into one of our kayaks and headed out. 

It looked like he had pulled his boat onto the shore near some big rocks, so I got the binoculars out. He was standing on one of the rocks. 

He tossed his hat aside and took off his shirt. 

He took off his pants. 

I did not need Daddy’s good binoculars. 

That man’s cock was huge, basically elephant-trunk huge, like anaconda huge. How the hell could he have kept that hidden from me? And why? I was standing right next to it! No-no-no I cried when he jumped into the water.  

At first, I paddled as hard as I could straight at him, but then I didn’t want to scare his pants on. Instead, I straight-lined it to the far side of the lake and hugged the shore. My deer was like a deer, and I didn’t want him springing into the woods. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” I said, floating the kayak between his gorgeous body and his pants on the shore. He was surprised but not embarrassed. I liked that. 

“You shouldn’t get too close. Sorry, I didn’t think anyone was around,” he said, indicating his discarded clothing. 

I told him that I didn’t mind. “In fact,” I said, “I’m going to join you.” I beached my boat and climbed onto that big rock (rock, I said rock), stripped off my top (Bra? Pffftt!) and shimmied out of my shorts (Panties? Pffftt!), and jumped in. 

Dale chuckled as I swam over and he said, “You’re really something.” 

We swam and chatted, and when I thought the time was right, I mashed my tits against his back and got my first two-fisted grip of his manhood. 

It didn’t go well. “Whoa! Wait a minute!” he cried. “Buy a guy some dinner first!” 

‘Wait?’ Huh. 

That’s all that came to mind as I tread water. Huh. Sometimes Huh? and once there was a hmm, but basically, all there was, was huh. 

Then I realized that I must have completely misheard him. “Tonight,” I started. “You want to take me out tonight for dinner.” I could tell by the look on his face that I had it right. “You want to wine me and dine me before taking my virtue.” Granted, I didn’t have much virtue left to give, but he didn’t know that. 

“Your virtue?” 

Okay, he might have guessed, anyway. “I really like you,” I said, drawing out ‘liiike’ with my sexiest, huskiest voice. “I won’t make you wait. Let’s go find a sunny spot and fuck like bunnies.” 

I had no idea how bunnies fucked, but it was probably cute, and we were in the woods, after all. 

“Why don’t we try dinner first, and see how that goes?” 

Huh. 

Huh. Huh? Huh-huh-huh… 

“You…” 

Huh. Hmm. Huh. Wait. 

“We don’t have to do it like bunnies. We can do it any way you want.” 

Dale’s awesome cock swung as he climbed onto shore to get dressed. “I’ll pick you up at 6:30. You’re funny.” 

I had the strangest feeling that we weren’t going to have sex until later, maybe even after we ate. “What should I wear?” 

“Anything would look good on you,” he said, which was true, “but I’ll take you someplace special. You deserve someplace special.” 

Lying in the sunshine as he rowed away, I tried to figure out why it was that my pussy was left empty. Every single guy I ever fucked had said, “Later, Babe,” after we did it, not before. 

I told you at the beginning that you wouldn’t believe me. 

I found the binoculars and looked around to distract myself from that devastating turn of events, and that’s when I got to see some actual fucking bunnies. They were cute, but it was over way too fast, so I made a mental note never to suggest that again. I’ve had quickies, but pffftt. 

~~~ 

I didn’t get back to the cottage until eleven or so, which meant that I’d have to hurry if I wanted to be ready by six-thirty. You can’t just trowel on the no-makeup-girl-next-door-slut-look makeup that I had perfected. Then I tried several combinations of dresses and undies and shoes and settled on my little burgundy dress and sandals with low heels—four inches was high enough, seeing as how I was roughing it. 

Yes, of course, I brought a lot of clothes for only a few days in the woods. Mary Ann and Ginger only had one outfit each on the island. The Howells brought trunks. If Gilligan’s Island taught us anything, it was to be a Howell. 

Mom poked her head into my room and said it looked like I was going out on a date. “Who’s the boy? Which family is his?” 

“He’s not a boy, Mom, he’s a man. His name is Dale, and it doesn’t matter which family he’s from. I’m a grown-up and can date anyone I choose. Where’s Daddy? Don’t tell Daddy.” I’m independent, not stupid. 

“He’s at the rec hall with his friends. We won’t see him any time soon. Is this the Dale from the cabin with the curtains and flowers?” 

“I wouldn’t know.” I’m a good liar. 

“Huh,” Mom said. “Wear underwear.” 

Dale showed up early, but I was already outside waiting so that Mom couldn’t get a chance to invite him in. The ride through the rutted roads was bumpy until we made it out of the woods and onto the paved roads. We made some small talk with some awkward silences which I thought I should fill with a pre-date BJ. 

“I don’t get it,” he said before I could give it to him. 

“Get what?” 

“Why me? You’re a very attractive woman who could easily find someone her own age to go out with.” 

Didn’t he know? Didn’t he know how good-looking he was? I mean, I know how good-looking I am. “You’re attractive too,” I assured him. 

“Thank you, but I wasn’t fishing for a compliment. I meant that I’m old…” 

Don’t say it… 

“…enough to be…” 

Don’t say it… 

“…your father.” 

“PFFFTT! No, you’re not! Daddy is forty-four.” 

“I’m forty-two.” 

“See? You’re too young,” I said. Men and their insecurities. 

“You’re funny.” 

“I know.” For the rest of the car ride, for some reason, I didn’t think about going down on him as much. 

Dale took me to the best restaurant in the area. We must have looked like a Hollywood couple, with everyone wondering who the dashing older man was with the young starlet on his arm.  

We were seated in a corner at a romantic, candlelit table for two. I never thought much about romance in the past. I never thought I would want that, but I kind of liked it. Sitting across from him, I flipped my sandal off and massaged Dale’s crotch before the appetizers showed up. 

He made me stop even though nobody could see us. I figured he didn’t like feet, so I moved my chair next to his and used my hand. 

“Don’t make me mess my shorts!” 

Now that I understood why, I dropped a fork on the floor as an excuse to crawl under the table (no messes if I swallow, right?) but one of the staff was there in an instant to pick it up and replace it for me. You’d think that after dropping five forks, they’d have given up and let me have my moment. 

Basically, what I had to do was settle for a good meal and good conversation with a gorgeous man who hung on to my every word—the things a girl has to do to get a cock in her mouth, right? 

When we were heading back, I asked him if we were going to his place or mine. “We can use my bed if you want, but you’ll have to climb up to the window if Daddy’s home.” 

“We’re going to my cabin,” he said. 

“Or,” I said, climbing onto his lap, “we can start now.” I was happy to discover that his cock was already as hard as my pussy was wet. The car mostly stayed on the road as I kissed his neck and ground against him. 

“You’re really something,” he said. “Do you like having sex outdoors?” 

Of course, I liked sex anywhere, so I purred in his ear, “I sure do, Baby.” 

“There’s a chance we’d get caught.” 

“I think that if we got caught, they’d think what a lucky man you are.” Basically, I thought getting caught would be the most fun thing ever as I wriggled on his boner. 

Dale swerved off the road, but he didn’t pull over; he had turned onto the bumpy road through the woods that led to the lake—the very bumpy road. Bumpy roads are a lot different when you’re not sitting ass-down in the seat. “Oh, g-g-god,” I moaned as I bounced on his lap. 

“Look at me,” he said, and I did. “How close are you?” 

“P-pretty close.” I was sort of lying. I was really close. 

He shifted himself under me so that my pussy was jostling and rubbing against his leg. “Keep looking at me. Open your eyes. I want to see you when you do.” Then he hit every single rut and hole in the road—the bumpy, humpy road. 

(Wasn’t that a Beatles song? The bum-pee hump-ee road, bahn bah…) 

“Oh, Baby,” I whimpered when the first wave hit. I tried to kiss him, but he gripped my jaw and forced his eyes into mine. That made me giggle, and I kept giggling until I was all done. He let me rest my head on his shoulder then, and he stopped the car. 

“We’re here.” 

I was still gasping for air, but I scrambled out of the car. I never wanted a cock so much, but before I could get to his cabin door, he asked me where I was going. I turned to see him light a second candle. 

Dale had erected (yes, I tittered when I wrote that, and I did again when I wrote that) a screen house and there was a bed inside. “More candles? Fewer?” he asked. 

I said to light them all. “I want the whole world to see us.” Obviously, the afterglow from poorly maintained roads had jarred my romantic side to the surface. Who knew? 

He zipped the screen behind us and pressed a broken-off piece of dark chocolate onto my tongue. I savored its richness and texture as my shaking hands unbuttoned his shirt. Before I could tear it from his body, he stepped behind me, nuzzled my neck, and nibbled my ears. 

Weaving his fingers into mine, we crossed arms together and lifted my dress off, slowly, up over my head. With a snap of his fingers, he unclasped my lacy bra and left it dangling by its straps. He caressed and massaged my breasts with one hand and fingered my panty-covered, dripping pussy with the other. 

“Oh, god, just fuck me,” I panted. 

“I will,” he said. 

I tossed my bra aside when he released me and turned to see him pouring wine into a couple of red plastic cups. “To a most beautiful woman,” he toasted as he handed me my drink. 

“Thank you,” I said, most appreciatively. 

He sat on the side of the bed, and I thought, yes, I’m gonna get laid now. I stood in front of him and let him slide my soaked panties to my feet. Then he cupped my ass and brought my pussy to his mouth. 

Oh-no-oh-no-oh-no… I might have said that out loud. He tasted me, and he licked and kissed my pussy. His tongue found every fold and split me, diving deeply, wriggling. He sucked my clit and fucked me with his thumb and my hips rocked in return. I couldn’t catch my breath. He teased me, denied me the rhythmic buildup I desperately needed to cum again. 

“Oh-no-oh-no-oh-NO,” I cried after taking control, shoving and smashing my pussy against his mouth. He caught me when my knees gave out, and gently laid me onto my back. 

Dale smiled at me, took off his shirt, unbuckled his belt, and handed me a condom. “Does this mean you liked the wine?” 

I tossed the condom aside and chuckled at his little attempt at humor. He wasn’t as funny as I was, but it was a good effort. 

He slid his pants off, and there we were, both naked in the candle-lit night. His veiny, steely cock stood rigid as he climbed between my legs. He might have fucked my face, and I would have gladly swallowed his load. He might have humped my chest, and I would have gladly swaddled him between the girls. But thank goodness he braced himself at my slit, and I gladly took him into my hands and welcomed him into my horny, wet pussy. 

Finally! 

I had to relax, be patient, to accept his girth, and as you well know, patience is not one of my remaining virtues. It was Dale’s experience and tenderness that helped me enjoy his generous, never-ending cock as it coaxed its way in until our bodies melted together. 

“You okay?” 

I answered with a deep, soulful kiss, swabbing, swapping the taste of my arousal from his mouth. I also answered with a swat on his ass. Yippee ki-yay, I said in my head. “Don’t be gentle,” I breathed. 

It might have been the other way around. It’s all a blur. Either way… 

My eyes rolled into the back of my head, and I gnawed on my lower lip as the pace of Dale’s thrusts got faster and faster; commanding, but not demanding. My squeals and his grunts filled the too-quiet woods and echoed back from the hills, squandered across the still lake. I cried out when he gave me, gave me my third orgasm of the night. 

I came, he conquered. And all this time I thought that it was my idea. Sorry, bunnies in the woods, if I scared you. It was so good, it almost scared me. 

Shivers ran through my super-sensitive pussy; he had slowed but hadn’t stopped. He was still hard, maybe harder, and he hadn’t fucking stopped fucking me. Lifting and spreading my knees, I flanked his flanks with my heels and bucked my hips to tell him it was his turn. 

For half a second, I wondered if Dale wasn’t all that attracted to me because no guy had ever taken so long to finish before. He seemed to be enjoying himself, though, and more importantly, I was enjoying myself, so I was happy to let him do what he had to do. 

I shuddered that little shudder I get before I cum and thought no way, but my pussy said, “Hwuh-wuh-wuh-way!” 

“I’m going to cum!” he grunted. 

“Me, too!” I wrapped my legs around his waist, so he’d have no doubt about where I wanted it. The only thing hotter than the man on top of me was his muy caliente cum inside me. 

Dale suggested that we take a dip to cool off and led me hand-in-hand down a dark trail that skirted another cabin’s campfire. They didn’t see us as we passed, but they must have heard our splashing and talking when we were in the water. We didn’t even try to hide when we ran back. 

“Who was that?” we heard them ask one another. 

I thanked him again for dinner and lost count of how many times I told him how much I liked his cock. “I hate to leave.” 

He looked at me, puzzled, and asked why I would. 

“I can stay?” 

“Of course.” 

“All night?” 

“Yes.” 

“I can’t,” I said all sulky-like. “My mom will worry, and my phone doesn’t have a signal.” 

“Let’s go tell her, then.” He lent me a jacket to go over my dress and a pair of flip-flops that were way too big but better than my heels. Mom was out on the back deck by the lake, reading a tattered paperback by lantern light. “Where’s Daddy?” I whispered. 

“He’s asleep inside, in his chair,” she answered with a normal voice. Then she looked up at my date. “Huh,” she said, smiling. “Hello, Dale.” 

“Hello, Daisy,” he answered. 

Huh. 

Mom just told me to get a change of clothes to bring along and to be careful walking back. “And don’t let your father catch him with you.” 

Dale and I fucked again, inside this time, and I got on top. I enjoy the feeling of my tits flailing and guys like to watch—win-win. I wanted to do it again after that, and he said okay, but we didn’t because he fell asleep. That was fine because I fell asleep too. 

Men and their cocks are weird. When I wanted him hard again last night, he wasn’t. When I woke up next to him (which made me curiously happy), there it was, long and hard, just going to waste. Dale was a little grumpy when I pointed that out, so I sucked him instead of fucking him. I had wanted to do that all day yesterday anyway. 

We only had one more day and night together before vacation was over. He made me realize that it was okay for a guy to treat a woman nice even after they fuck, and even nicer before they do. Maybe that’s what Daddy was trying to tell me about respecting myself. 

After we got home, I called one of my boyfriends and told him that basically, he needed to take me out before we had sex. “And I’m spending the night, too!” He tried to argue with me about that part, but I stood up for myself and told him I didn’t care what his wife thought about it. 

Pffftt!