Chapter One – Plans up in smoke

The air was thick with the weight of summer as Bryan gazed at the phone in disbelief, his heart sinking faster than the lead weights he had spent months preparing for his dream trip.

He had waited four long years for this—The Zoo, an exclusive carp lake nestled deep in the French countryside, where legends swam beneath the still, mysterious waters. Now, it seemed as though the world itself had conspired against them.

For the past seven years, Bryan and a group of close friends have been going on an annual fishing trip to target Specimen Carp in far-flung locations across Europe, from remote mountain lakes in Scotland to urban canals in Holland and Spanish lakes that give five-star resorts a run for their money. They have gone far and wide in the hunt for these extraordinary creatures. Nothing stood in the way of this tradition, not even a global pandemic.

When the UK went into lockdown, the group found a farmer with a pristine stretch of river running across his land and fished that in exchange for cash payment and not being spotted by dog walkers.

But this wasn't a pandemic. Europe was burning. The five-month drought had turned forests into tinderboxes, and wildfires raged across the continent. It wasn't long before the call came.

The lake owner, an apologetic Frenchman with a voice worn from worry, had delivered the final blow:

"I am sorry, mon ami, but it is too dangerous. The fires are too close. It is not safe."

Bryan's heart sank, but he wasn't alone in his disappointment. The group—Mick, Paul, Danny, and himself—had spent weeks planning every detail, only to see it unravel instantly. What followed was a desperate scramble to salvage their long-awaited fishing trip. But it seemed fate wasn't done with them yet.

Paul and Danny were the first to drop out, citing the slow state of UK fishing due to the unrelenting heatwave gripping the UK. The thought of long, sweltering days and sleepless nights by the water's edge had drained their enthusiasm.

That left Mick and Bryan scrambling for alternatives. Mick found the estate lake tucked away in the rolling hills of Surrey.

"It's not The Zoo, but it's got history," Mick had said over the phone, his voice laced with reluctant optimism. "Bury Hill, it's a Three hundred-year-old estate, but unfortunately, it's a day ticket, so it can get busy, but all the greats have fished it. Houses some real special fish."

Bryan had agreed, spurred on by a dogged determination to salvage the trip. Yet less than 24 hours before they were due to set off, Mick called with the kind of news that didn't leave room for argument:

"Can't make it, mate. The baby is sick. It would be great if you still went, though. Wouldn't want you missing out."

Bryan had nearly cancelled, too. But Krystal, his wife, had gently pushed him out the door.

"You've waited long enough," she said, her voice calm but firm. "Go. You'll regret it if you don't."

Now, as Bryan loaded his gear into the back of his van, the trip felt hollow. What had once been a shared adventure had dwindled to a solitary quest. Yet something about the old lake tugged at him—a whisper of mystery, a promise of the unknown.

The Surrey hills awaited, and with them, perhaps, a story all his own.

Chapter Two – Boredom In The Buff

The drive had been mercifully short compared to the journey Bryan had prepared for—the thirty minutes to the estate lake felt like a breeze after the anticipated seven-hour haul to France.

Pulling up to the estate's charming office, a quaint brick building that looked like it had stepped out of another century, he purchased his week's ticket and began a lap of the lake to scope out a swim.

The lake was breathtaking. Encircled by lush greenery, its waters sparkled in the morning sunlight, inviting and serene. But as Bryan walked the perimeter, his excitement began to wane. Almost every decent swim was already occupied. Worse, many of the anglers had set up strategically to maximize their water coverage, leaving little room for newcomers.

 A familiar feeling of deflation set in, and the day's growing heat didn't help.

Bryan trudged back to his van, sweat dampening his shirt. The plan was simple: grab his gear and settle into one of the few remaining swims, even if they weren't ideal. But a voice called out from behind as he popped the van's doors.

"Looking for somewhere to set up?"

He turned to see Rebecca, the fishery manager. Dressed in khaki shorts and a tightly fitted faded polo with the estate's logo, she had an easy, confident air about her. After explaining his predicament, she frowned slightly, then smiled as if struck by a thought.

"You know," she said, "there's the Jungle. It's in the far corner of the lake, but it's easy to miss because of the gate at the trailhead. Most people think it's locked, but it's not. A secluded spot with great features. Worth a look if you don't mind a bit of a walk."

Bryan thanked her and, intrigued, set off to find the Jungle.

She hadn't oversold it. Nestled at the end of a winding woodland path, the Jungle was perfect. A secluded bay cut off from the main lake, its gin-clear waters lapped gently at the banks. The swim was shaded by towering trees that offered an excellent, dappled canopy, and the bay was dotted with snags and overhangs—perfect holding spots for carp.

Bryan couldn't believe his luck. It didn't take long to set up. His Bivvy went up beneath a large oak for shade, and after a short row out in the estate's small boat, he found two ideal spots to deploy his three rods. With everything in place, he settled back in his chair and allowed the tranquillity of the Jungle to wash over him.

As the day stretched on, the temperature climbed relentlessly. The sweat returned, and Bryan decided to embrace the solitude fully. Stripping down to his boxers, he erected a hammock between two trees by the water's edge and slathered on sun lotion before climbing in for a snooze.

The hours drifted by, the rods remained silent, and the oppressive heat subsided as the evening breeze arrived. Relaxing in his bedchair with the sun setting over the trees, Bryan pulled out his phone to text Krystal, sharing the quiet beauty of the Jungle and recounting the day's peaceful—if uneventful—fishing.

Tomorrow, he told himself. Tomorrow would be better. But it wasn't.

The day ticked by with quiet alarms, so Bryan looked for entertainment elsewhere and turned to Krystal.

Pinging her a text asking how her day was going as he was bored, she swiftly replied with an image of her at her desk: "It could be worse. At least you're not working."

Deciding instantly that he needed to reply with a selfie of his own, Bryan quickly set up his tripod at the water's edge, glanced around to ensure he was alone, and stripped off his shorts. The breeze felt magical against his crutch as he stood there, naked as the day he was born, soaking up the sun.

Standing with his back to the water, he snapped a playful topless selfie to send back to Krystal. But he'd taken it at just the right angle that ensured the reflection in the water showed off his complete naked self if you looked hard enough.

Bryan stared at the screen, heart pounding slightly faster than he'd admit—two blue ticks. No reply.

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the hammock swaying gently behind him in the evening breeze. It had seemed funny at the time—a light-hearted way to kill the monotony and share a laugh with Krystal. Now, as the silence stretched, self-doubt crept in.

"Maybe it was too much," he muttered under his breath, running a hand over his sun-kissed body.

The Jungle was peaceful, a little slice of paradise far from the bustle of the main lake, but solitude came with its pitfalls. With nothing but the rustling leaves and gentle lapping of water for company, Bryan's thoughts spiralled. What if Krystal was annoyed? Or worse, embarrassed?

His phone buzzed, jolting him from his reverie.

Krystal: "Very bold, BRYAN. But let's keep the risqué photography to ourselves, yeah? 😂"

Bryan exhaled a laugh, tension melting away. He typed back quickly:

Bryan: "Don't worry, this masterpiece is a one-off. You're welcome for the laugh."

The reply came almost instantly.

Krystal: "Just don't scare the fish off, David Bailey. Any bites yet?"

Bryan chuckled, shaking his head as he looked over at his rods: three immaculately placed baits, three motionless bobbins.

Bryan: "Nothing. Starting to think the fish are on holiday too."

Krystal: "Patience. You'll get one. Call me if you do."

He set the phone aside and stretched, letting his legs dangle lazily over the water's edge. The bay had gone quiet, the air cooler now as the sun dipped below the treetops, painting the water with streaks of orange and purple. Despite the lack of action, Bryan couldn't deny the beauty of the place. The snags, the overhanging trees, the crystal-clear water—everything a carp angler dreamed of.

Tomorrow, he told himself. Tomorrow would be the day.

He pulled his top over his head as the evening chill settled and turned back to the Bivvy. The rods stayed silent, but hope lingered, just like the ripples on the water.

Ping Ping. The sound awoke Bryan from his slumber; grabbing his phone, he glanced at the screen in shock. There she was, all 5ft 6inches of her on full display in front of the bedroom mirror. Krystal's hourglass figure with her wide hips, tiny waist and luscious 34HH breasts with their gumdrop-sized nipples standing proudly. The caption was simple: "My reflection is clearer than yours."

Bryan felt his cock grow instantly, as his thin boxers suddenly became much tighter as he continued to look at his wife's fantastic picture.

Before he had a chance to reply, Krystal sent another outlandish picture. This time, she was bent over the bed, feet shoulder width apart, giving a perfect view of her puffy smooth lips that, when Bryan zoomed in on, could see the slight glimmer of moisture between her folds. KRYSTAL was looking over her shoulder with a devilish smile. "I wish you were here," was all it said.

That was all Bryan could take. His boxers came off, and he started to stroke his engorged cock tightly as he hit record on his phone, sending KRYSTAL a short video labelled "So do I.

The ticks went blue, but no reply came, so Bryan stopped stroking; the burning sensation of being so close to the edge and then stopping made a slight moan escape his throat, but he pulled his boxers back on and went to bed.

Chapter three – Spawning fish

The silence of the morning was ripped apart by the sound of Bryan's right-hand rod tearing off, sending his alarm into action with a one-toner that all fishermen dream of. Bryan darted out of his Bivvy in his flimsy boxers and began playing the mysterious fish at the other end of the line. As the fish fought harder, Bryan's well-defined and now nicely bronzed muscles started to pop as he struggled with what was a decent-sized fish. As progress was being made, Bryan heard another sound coming from his Bivvy. Glancing at his watch, he saw that Krystal was calling him, but he couldn't answer.

Having successfully landed his nemesis, Bryan grabbed his phone and replied to Krystal, apologizing for not answering but stating he was finally playing a fish.

After completing the standard weighing, photographing, and releasing of the carp, Bryan noticed a reply from Krystal:

"Well done, you. But playing with me would be more fun 😉"

Bryan replied, "It sure would, and I bet you'd make me just as wet," before reeling in his remaining two rods and deciding to head for a shower.

The shower block at the complex was surprisingly lovely, and it was empty this early in the morning. Bryan locked the door and turned on the water, letting it heat up as he stripped. He snapped a picture of the shower and sent it to Krystal, saying, "Time to wash away the fish and my dirty thoughts. "Then, he placed it on the shelf with his other belongings.

A couple of minutes went by, and his phone rang. Wiping the water from his eyes, Bryan swiped up to answer the call, but no voice came through the speaker. To his surprise, Krystal had FaceTimed him.

She was enjoying the view of her naked, tanned husband. His broad shoulders and thick arms were now nicely bronzed. His flat stomach and freshly shaved groin glistened under the LED light, and his flaccid six-inch cock hung over what appeared to be a heavy sack between his legs.

"Morning, sweetie. I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time," she said in her most innocent voice.

He stepped forward out of the spray so he could see her. "It's never a bad time to see your pretty face, my love," he said with a smile as his hands rubbed bubbles all over his body.

"You missed a spot between your legs," she said in a playful tone.

Bryan grasped his shaft and started rubbing it with his bubbly hand, back and forth in long, slow strokes. "Clean enough?"

Krystal smiled and pulled the hem of her summer dress up, revealing the tiniest white patch of lace covering her waxed mound. "No, it's still filthy," she said, her fingers beginning to run against the material.

By now, Bryan's member had grown fully to its length and width. His thumb and forefinger no longer touched as he stroked it up and down in a slow motion. With each downward stroke, he revealed his swollen, purple head, and with each upward stroke, the veins bulged prominently.

That tiny lace patch was pushed to the side as Krystal worked her pearl frantically, watching Bryan stroke his pole.

Bryan stared as she dipped her two fingers into her wet slit from time to time before returning to her swollen clit with renewed effort. Biting her bottom lip to avoid making a sound, he knew she was close. Feeling the telltale pressure building deep in his core, Bryan grasped the tiled wall for balance as he watched his wife's fingers working on her clit. He observed as her thighs trembled, her breath caught in her throat, and her body convulsed.

Her mouth dropped open to allow a silent scream as her climax hit, and Bryan burst. Multiple ropes of thick cum shot out of his purple swollen head and arched through the air and onto the floor. Bryan stumbled against the wall as his legs gave way, and they both smiled at each other, catching their breaths.

Krystal took the phone from its mantle and placed it closer between her legs to give her husband a great view of the clear nectar leaking from her swollen pussy and the wet patch on the duvet. She placed the phone back on the mantle before standing up, adjusting her thong, and straightening her dress. "Speak to you after work. Love you," she said, cutting the call.

Bryan quickly washed and cleaned the shower cubicle before returning to the Jungle.

Approaching the gate that led up the trail to the Jungle, he was met by Rebbeca coming down the other way. Her hair was up high in a ponytail, and she was in a pair of denim shorts so tight that he wondered how that button hadn't shot off yet.

"Morning slugger, just to let you know that the fish have started spawning. You don't have to leave, but don't fish the spawn. At least it explains why the lakes are slow," she said with a smile. She brushed past Bryan with a stride that all country girls have.

Turning to watch her walk away, he took in the few of her in those tiny shorts and faded polo shirt. She turned to look over her shoulder and caught his gaze. They both smiled and went their separate ways.

The day went by without any further action. The rods lay perfectly positioned, but the bobbins stayed motionless. Bryan texted Krystal  on arriving back at his swim, explaining that the fish had begun to spawn, but he didn't get a reply due to it being a working day.

Ping.

Krystal: "By spawning, you mean the fish are fucking?"

Bryan: "Hiya stranger, yes, the fish are getting their freak on, so they lose all interest in feeding, and it's unfair to fish for them."

Krystal  "Naturally. If you had been invited to an orgy, you'd forget to eat and would hate to get hooked just as you were about to nut, wouldn't you!"

Bryan: "At least something around here is getting some action…"

The interaction between the two stopped as quickly as it started, so Bryan took advantage of the tranquillity of his surroundings, lounged back in his hammock, and watched the evening roll in.

As the sun was finally setting behind the hills in the distance, the tell-tell ping of Bryan's phone brought him back from his trance. Getting out of the hammock, he walked barefoot across to his Bivvy and retrieved his phone from on top of the cool box along with two bottles of cider from within before heading back to his swaying place of relaxation.

Glancing at the notification, he didn't recognize it at first. "Invite to play a game on Magic Motion." He opened the app but didn't recognize its home screen or remember downloading it. Clicking on "start game", a little ball appeared on a black background next to a pressure gauge. Placing his finger on the ball, he moved it around, and slowly, the pressure gauge began to twitch up and down. Then he remembered. The remotely controlled WII Egg he'd purchased Krystal last Christmas, he could control that toy from anywhere in the world, and she must now have it nestled nicely into her hungry little pussy with him controlling it.

Game on, he thought to himself. Bryan set about moving his finger in slow, steady strokes, trying to create elaborate patterns on the screen. He kept an eye on the gage the whole time to see what Krystal most enjoyed. Slowly, the pressure built, and he knew he was working her closer to her release. He began drawing spirals slowly, and the gage climbed, so he slowed down. Krystal was usually the one in control and loved edging Bryan until he begged for it, but now it was his turn to make her pussy burn with need.

Despite his best efforts to keep her on the edge, the gage peaked. He continued to slowly move his thumb on the screen, mesmerized by the fluttering movements of the gage as Krystal's orgasm slowly burned out, then nothing. A message appeared on the screen: "Connection lost with device."

Ping went Bryan's phone again, so he closed the app and opened the message.

Krystal: "Thank you for that, sweety; I needed that badly. Sweet dream, and love you."

Bryan chuckled to himself, having been used for his wife's satisfaction, and replied, "Not a problem, princess, sweet dreams and wish you were here. Love you"

Bryan sipped his ciders, enjoying the night sky and reflecting on the trip so far before climbing into his bed chair for the night.

Chapter Four – Not Just Spawning Fish

An uneventful night gave way to an equally uneventful morning on what Bryan had decided would be his penultimate day at the lake. While spending the week by the water had been relaxing, with a seven-day ticket in hand, he found himself growing bored—and a little sunburnt.

He decided to pack up on Friday, ensuring he'd be home when KRYSTAL returned from work, ready for the weekend to begin.

Bryan prepared breakfast from the last of his supplies in the cool box, then settled by the water's edge, scanning for signs of movement or any submerged life.

His sweltering, breezeless night left him feeling sticky, compounded by a vivid dream about what he'd do to Krystal if given the chance. In desperate need of a shower to wash off the sweat and the dried pre-cum he'd leaked during the night, he nonetheless resisted touching his rods for a while longer and focused on finishing his meal.

As noon approached and the temperature peaked, he reeled in his rods and headed for the shower block. After a quick rinse and an impromptu shave to remove a week's worth of stubble and tidy up his grooming, he emerged feeling considerably more human. Refreshed, he made his way back to his swim.

On his return, Bryan redeployed his rods using the boat and decided to use his remaining time to begin packing. By early afternoon, he'd successfully loaded his barrow with all non-essential equipment, leaving out only the bare necessities. He also collected ample wood and built a small fire for the evening. He helped a bailiff repair the fence behind his camp along the way.

As he began considering a final, relaxing stretch in his hammock, approaching voices interrupted his peace. Expecting to see anglers looking for a swim, he was surprised to spot Rebbeca walking up the path alongside a grey-haired gentleman.

As Rebbeca approached, Bryan couldn't help but take in her full figure. Her long, smooth, tanned legs led up to another pair of impressively tight and short shorts. She wore a blouse with the sleeves rolled up, and it was clear she wasn't wearing a bra, as her nipples were visible through the thin fabric. An old cap with the estate's logo and a pair of sturdy yard boots completed her outfit. The man with her wore well-worn boots, jeans, and a plain white shirt with rolled sleeves.

Rebbeca introduced the man to Bryan, who turned out to be her father and the estate owner. Bryan offered them both a drink, which they accepted, and before long, the three were deep in conversation.

David, her father, shared the history of the estate and how he'd purchased it some 30 years earlier. While Bryan listened politely, his mind wasn't fully engaged.

It was during this conversation that Bryan realized something about Rebbeca. Although she was fun to talk to in small doses and undeniably easy on the eyes, she could be exhausting to engage with for long periods. As David continued his stories, Bryan nodded politely, doing his best to wrap up the encounter.

Eventually, David finished his verbal barrage and exclaimed, "Well, can't stay all day talking. We must be off." He gathered their empty drink bottles, promising to dispose of them, and set off down the trail with Rebbeca close behind.

Watching them leave for a moment, Bryan then retreated into his Bivvy, needing a moment to clear his thoughts.

After some time, he emerged and sat by the water's edge, listening to the sounds of the woods and the slight early evening breeze. It was the perfect end to his week, a quiet evening to himself, enjoying the peace of the lake.

As he leaned back, his eyes on the rods resting motionless on their stands, a soft rustling in the woods behind him drew his attention. He turned, expecting the return of his previous visitors or a fellow angler. Instead, he froze, his heart skipping a beat.

There she was—Krystal, his wife, standing at the edge of the path. Her loose sundress fluttered slightly in the evening breeze, hinting at her gorgeous figure beneath, and her sandals crunched softly on the sun-baked ground as she stepped closer. Her lips curved into a mischievous smile, her eyes sparkling with the kind of warmth that made his heartache.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice a mix of surprise and joy as he rose to meet her.

"Thought I'd surprise you," she said, stepping into his arms. She wrapped her hands around his neck, her touch warm and familiar. "You've been out here all week. I thought you might be lonely."

Before he could respond, she pressed her lips to his in a slow, lingering kiss that left no room for words. Everything faded away—the chirping crickets, the rustling trees, the soft lapping of the lake. All that mattered was her, here, now.

When they finally parted, her cheeks were flushed, and her breath quickened. She glanced at the campsite he'd meticulously set up, her eyes falling on the small firepit he'd prepared. "Looks cosy," she teased. "But I think we could make it cosier."

He grinned, the heat in his chest spreading lower as he caught the suggestion in her tone. "Is that so?" he murmured, pulling her closer.

She slipped out of his embrace, her hand trailing down his arm as she led him toward the Bivvy. "Come find out," she whispered, her voice soft but filled with promise.

Inside, the air was warm and still, the faint scent of him lingering on the sleeping bag he'd laid out. She turned to him, her fingers finding the hem of her sundress. Slowly, she pulled it over her head, revealing soft, sun-kissed skin and nothing beneath but the curves he knew so well.

Bryan's breath hitched as he took her in, the sight of her body sending a wave of desire through him. He stepped forward, his hands finding her hips, his lips brushing the curve of her neck. Her fingers threaded through his hair as she sighed softly, her body arching into his touch.

They moved together with an urgency; Krystal shed Bryan's clothes piece by piece until there was nothing between them apart from his raging horn that now pressed nicely into her stomach. She laid down gently onto the bed chair, and he positioned himself between her legs, their bodies moulding together as the golden evening sunlight filtered through the open front.

Their hunger for each other was evident, but Krystal made him work for it despite arriving at the lake already turned on beyond belief. A week's worth of longing poured into every kiss, every caress.

Bryan kissed down her body until her legs were over his shoulders. He devoured her sex in a flurry of licking and sucking, eventually sliding two fingers into her tight hole to begin his assault on her G spot, which brought about her first climax of the night.

Keeping her legs on his shoulders, he leaned forward and, in one thrust, found himself tightly inside Krystal's velvet vice. After a week of being teased, he knew he wouldn't last long this round, so he set about ploughing into her with all his might. Every thrust sent her 34HH breast jiggling and made a moan escape her lips.

After a couple of minutes of Bryan fucking with all his might. Her legs were now securely wrapped around his waist, and her fingers interlocked behind his head; she was practically hanging off him and swaying every time he thrust his 8-inch-thick member into her. Then it happened. As Krystal began to beg him to finish in her wanting hole, he did. Letting out a louder-than-usual moan, he felt his balls tighten and his cock twitch as a torrent of his hot seed flooded into her ravished pussy.

Outside, the world grew into a kaleidoscope of pinks, reds, and purples as the sunset burned brightly. The sounds of the lake serenaded them as they lay in the stifling heat of the Bivvy, catching their breath.

The evening passed with them reaching for each other again and again. Krystal sucked Bryan's wilting cock back to life before riding him cowgirl on his chair next to the water until she climaxed over his throbbing shaft.

She instructed him to drop to his knees between Krystal's legs at the base of a large willow, where he licked her plundered pussy clean as she worked her clit to yet another earth-shattering orgasm as the tip of his tongue found her other tight whole and pushed its way in.

Sometime later, as the fire crackled softly outside, they emerged from the Bivvy again, wrapped in a blanket and each other. He pulled her into the hammock he'd strung between two sturdy trees, their bodies fitting together perfectly as they swayed gently in the evening breeze.

They lay spooning in the hammock, looking over the stillness of the lake. Krystal rested her head on Bryan's chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his thigh. "This was worth the drive," she murmured, "but I must be going".

Bryan pressed a kiss onto her neck, his arms tightening around her. "Not just yet, I'm not quite done with you," he said softly. With that, he positioned his cock between her thighs and slid it effortlessly into her cum-drenched hole. 

"I thought you'd be spent by now", Krystal said, pushing back into him and making him go deeper "Okay, Wildman, I'll take one last load before I go,"

Their final embrace was gentle and passionate; Bryan slowly slid his entire length in and out of Krystal with smooth strokes. He supported her leg up to allow better access whilst his other hand was below her head and teased her diamond-hard nipples. She gently moaned as she pushed her hips back into each of his trusts whilst softly working her tender and swollen pearl.

As the hammock swayed gently with their combined efforts, Krystal tightened around Bryan as her final climax built to a peak. She did her best to hold it off and encouraged Bryan to finish at the same time. Doing his best to meet her desires, he upped the pace whilst kissing the base of her neck.

Her final climax tore through Krystal's body like a freight train. Every muscle convulsed and tightened beyond measure. It was like Krystal's pussy was trying to both suck in and push out Bryan's cock at the same time. Then just as it showed signs of subsiding, Bryan hit his peak and deposited the remains of his cum into her with shot after shot of what felt like lava.

As he did so, he involuntarily pinched Krystal's nipple too hard, and the combination of the pleasure of his swollen, twitching member and the pain of her nipple set her off again. The second climax was more violent than the first sending her into physical shaking convulsions as she screamed and squirted a flow of sweet nectar with every movement of his now dwindling cock.

"This week's been nice, but this... this is perfect," Bryan muttered softly as he struggled to breathe.

They stayed that way for a little while. Wrapped in the warmth of each other's embrace, their naked bodies pressed together beneath the fiery sky. As the night began to set in, Krystal got up. She retrieved her dress from the ground outside the Bivvy and tugged it over her head. "I do regret not wearing knickers," she said. "I can feel your cum dripping out of me, and it's gross."

Bryan walked her to the gate at the end of the trail before kissing her goodbye. They didn't exchange pleasantries; Krystal simply bounded off with an extra bounce in that summer dress.

Chapter Five – Goodbye

Bryan decided to spend the night in the hammock overlooking the lake. The combination of stifling heat and a sex-drenched bed chair essentially decided for him, but he also didn't know how long it would be before he got another chance to enjoy such a view.

He began breaking camp as the morning sun breached the treetops on the far bank. It didn't take long to load the remaining items onto the barrow and reel in his rods for the final time. After a quick scan of the area to ensure he hadn't left any gear or rubbish behind, he gripped the barrow handles and made his way to the van.

Once the van was loaded and the doors shut, Bryan took a moment to use the facilities before heading out. As he rounded the corner into the car park, he crossed paths with Rebecca, who was on her way to the estate office.

"Leaving so soon?" she asked, her tone inquisitive.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. It's been a lot of fun, but all good things must end," BRYAN replied with a polite smile. "Besides, there's no point staying with the fish spawning."

As he moved to pass her, Rebecca's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"It wasn't just the fish spawning this week, was it?"

The comment froze BRYAN mid-step. He turned slowly, meeting her gaze. "Sorry, what do you mean by that?" he asked, his voice low and cautious.

Rebecca simply smiled, her finger pointing toward the sign on the estate office wall:

"All swims are monitored by CCTV and reviewed by estate management. Antisocial behaviour and rule-breaking will not be tolerated!"

"I have to admit," she continued, her voice laced with amusement and something darker, "I was surprised to see your little wife could still walk properly after you two finished together. But I suppose she's used to taking that pole of yours by now?"

The crude insinuation sent a wave of heat through BRYAN—half anger, half embarrassment. Before he could respond, Rebecca carried on, her smile widening.

"I couldn't resist watching it unfold while I was at home," she said, her tone almost casual. "Touched myself, too, though I didn't cum as many times as you two kids. Heaven knows I wanted to. And then, when I saw her going to the car park, I just had to intercept her path."

Rebecca stepped closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Honey, wasn't I glad I did? She actually thanked me for walking her to your swim—and hugged me goodbye."

Rebecca chuckled, her eyes gleaming. "I could smell you leaking from her as she pressed her breasts against me. After that, I couldn't resist heading back and hitting rewind on the footage."

Bryan's jaw tightened, his patience hanging by a thread. "What do you want?" he snapped, cutting her off.

Rebecca shrugged, her sinister smile softening into something deceptively sweet. "Nothing at all," she replied airily.

"I just wanted to let you know how much I enjoyed having you here this week—and meeting your beautiful young wife."

She gave him a lingering look before turning away. "Drive safe now, and hopefully, I'll see you back here soon."

With that, she walked off, leaving Bryan rooted to the spot, her words echoing uncomfortably in his mind.