The Perfect Spot Pt. 01

In all the time I'd known her, I hadn't thought about Aimee all that much. She was already working at the company when I joined last year. She was in a different hallway, but the office isn't all that big, so we'd see each other practically every day and exchange some sort of pleasantries when we did. She was always kind enough to laugh at my dumb jokes, but it was always a quiet little giggle, not the big guffaws I got out of Martha and Joanne, her cohorts in the Accounts Department.

But I didn't really know much about her. Her name was Aimee Johnson. Her mother was Swedish, I knew that because she brought Janssons Frestelse, a traditional Swedish dish, to the company Christmas party. She certainly looked Swedish, with her flaxen blonde hair and jewel-blue eyes. Her eyes were certainly her most striking feature. They shone from either side of her narrow nose, set in her soft, round face. There was a little mole just to the left corner of her small, but plump, lips, which perched above her button chin. She was certainly cute, I'd flagged that on my first day at the office. She was probably the most attractive woman in the company, but that wasn't a major feat. Corinne in sales was pretty, but in a rather severe way, too much makeup outlining her features. I spent more time checking out Corinne, but that was because Corinne liked to wear outfits that pushed the limits of "office appropriate." Not so with Aimee. She wore long pants or skirts as a rule and usually had a cardigan, even in summer, since the boss preferred having the AC on full blast from June to September.

So that's all Aimee Johnson was to me: a pretty, quiet girl I was always happy to see, but never thought about when I wasn't seeing her.

That changed last week.

I have recently stopped renting and bought my own place. It's a little out of town, but I liked that. The extra drive time is worth the quiet. I moved in in March and had been looking forward to the summer. I knew a great swimming hole was just a three-minute drive away. It was where two small rivers meet. There are plenty of swimming holes in the area, but most were usually so crowded on nice days, I generally avoid them. But this one, Wren's Fork, is farther off the beaten track than the others, and I had been told that really only the immediate residents knew about it, so it is often unattended.

I'd been dying to check it out, but May had been too rainy, and I was too busy for the first half of June. Finally, the day came. My boss likes to flaunt his progressivism and insists on giving us Juneteenth off. No complaints here. It was a sunny Thursday, high of 82 degrees with lower than average humidity, and I had it all to myself. I slept in, ate a real breakfast instead of chugging down a protein shake, had an extra-long workout, then packed up a cooler with snacks, a couple beers, a full bowl of sativa, and headed for Wren's Fork.

I took a little dirt road to the trailhead. It was about a five-minute hike in through a forest of massive maples and skinny beeches. Suddenly, the trees ended and I was standing on a large rock, overlooking the two rivers, the larger running down from the north, the other trickling from the west, joining to rush down south together. The sunlight sparkled on the ever-moving surface of the water, and the green leaves of the surrounding trees danced in the light breeze. God, I thought, could this be any more perfect?

Then I saw her. Across the water was a sandy beach where a single woman lay on a towel facing the sun. And what a woman! She wore a blue bikini with printed red flowers. Her skin shone a light gold in the sun. She was tall, with large breasts and wide, curving hips. Her blonde hair was done up in a hasty bun, and large sunglasses covered most of her face.

She hadn't noticed me. Perhaps she is asleep? Still, I did my best not to stare, but casually looked about, taking in the scene, while constantly making quick glances in her direction. One glance showed me she had a birthmark on her right thigh. Another revealed she had earbuds in. So she hadn't seen me, or heard me either.

Since she hadn't noticed me yet, I risked a good, long look. She was spectacular. I used to go in for skinny little things, the type of girl you could lift with one hand, but might snap in half if you hold her too hard. But I've come to embrace curves. She hit that perfect place on the skinny to curvy scale for me. She was by no means overweight; her waist was thinner than her hips, and there was some ab definition, I could tell even from far away. But her chest was substantial, and by the way it pushed out on either side of her, I could tell her backside was as well.

I wanted to dive straight into the water, swim over to her, and ask to lick the sweat glistening on her tummy. But perhaps I'd just have to settle for a casual introduction. But can I even do that? She thinks she's sunbathing in private. Would she really appreciate some random dude coming over, hitting on her, making her feel vulnerable?

Approaching women is a rusty skill for me. I am only a year and a half out of a marriage. In that time, I've had flirtatious exchanges with a handful of women, but only one went anywhere, and only for one mediocre night of hand stuff. Making a beeline for a voluptuous woman wearing practically nothing and successfully charming her seemed... unlikely. Glances and daydreams were all I had to look forward to.

Still, I made a bit of a show when taking off my shirt, flexing as I did, just in case she decided to look my way at just that moment. She just lay there, unchanged. Who knows if she'd have been impressed anyway? I was feeling more confident about my own body than I had in a long time. Since the divorce, the stress eating has been easier to manage, and I've had more free time to work out. My arms and chest haven't looked this defined since my early twenties. I've dropped a couple of waist sizes, but am still an inch or two short of my goal. This being my first time out all summer, of course, I was glowing pale. The warmth of the sun was satisfying, but I could already feel it burning my skin.

I put on sunscreen, found a comfy spot on the rock to sit down, cracked open a beer, and took a long, cold drink, downing half the can without a thought. It hit me that this peaceful, beautiful spot was mine to enjoy for many summer days to come. It was a soothing thought. I wondered if my lovely lady across the water was regular here. One can hope.

I sat in tranquil silence for a while, still glancing over to the opposite beach from time to time. My heart skipped a beat every time I did.

At last, the sun became too hot for me; I needed to be in the water. I walked to the edge of the big rock and looked at the water swirling below. My neighbor, Chuck, had told me that he and his kids used to jump off the rock into the river, so I knew it was deep enough. Still, I needed a couple of breaths to build up the courage for a jump.

The cold water sent a shock through me as it went over my head. But as I burst back up into the open air, the mixture of cold and heat pleased me. When I opened my eyes, I found that I just happened to be facing the opposite beach. My bikini-clad mystery lady was now sitting up, staring at me. I gave her a wave. She waved back sheepishly and pulled out her earbuds.

Then I heard her call my name.

To say I was surprised would be an understatement. How could she possibly know who I am? Between her large sunglasses and the water in my eyes, I still could not make out her face. If she knows me, I can approach her...

I swam across the river. It took a minute and a little more effort than I would have liked. As I stepped onto the beach, I looked at her and I saw it-- a little mole by the left corner of her lips.

"Aimee!" I exclaimed. "I couldn't tell it was you from a distance."

She was now sitting up with her knees close, obviously uncomfortable with showing so much skin. Is it because I am a coworker? Or just because I am a man- hell, a person? Either way, I told myself to only look at her eyes or the trees. That's all you can look at, her eyes or the trees!

"Enjoying your day off, I see," I said, trying not to sound awkward, but failing.

"Yeah," she replied with a bit of a blush. "I, uhh, didn't know you came here."

I crouched down to her level, so I wouldn't be looming over her.

"First time! You here a lot?"

"Yeah, I live right over there," she said, pointing up the hill behind her, "have since I was a kid."

"Really? That's lovely. I just moved to Forester Road."

Her eyes lit up.

"Oh, the blue house?"

"Yes, that's the one."

"I've always loved that house! Very pretty."

"Yeah, I'm quite happy there. My neighbor-- do you know Chuck, uhh..."

"Tillman?"

"Yeah, that's him! He recommended this place."

"His daughter Becky and I were friends. We spent a lot of time here together."

"I bet! God, I would have loved to have a place like this to grow up around."

"Yeah..."

There was an awkward silence. One minute and we already ran out of things to talk about.

"Well, uhh," I stammered, "I'll leave you to it, before I start ruining your day off with office talk."

"Oh, it's ok," she said, standing up. "I have to get going anyway."

"Oh..."

She reached down and grabbed towel, wrapping it around her waist, but not before I finally got a glimpse of her ass. Magnificent. Heart-shaped. Plump, but firm. I wanted to bite it.

"Well," I said, "I'll see you at the office."

She turned to walk away, but stopped and looked back.

"See you around here too, I hope," she said.

I watched her walk up the hillside into the trees.

I thought this is going to be a good summer.

At the office the next day, I made sure my lunch break lined up with hers. She always ate at the same time, but I was more scattered. I stepped into the break room, and there she was. She smiled as soon as she saw me. She always did, but this time it felt different, like we shared a secret. She was back in her skirt and cardigan, but now I knew what was hidden beneath. How could I have never realized what an insane body she kept under those layers of fabric?

"Howdy, neighbor," I said. "Fancy meeting you here of all places!"

She gave me one of her little giggles.

"I'm sure you're not as surprised as I was seeing you come out of the water at Wren's Fork!"

"You hadn't noticed me before then?"

"No, I had kind of dozed off. But I heard the splash when you jumped in."

Good, I thought, then you didn't notice me staring at you like a creeper.

"I noted someone was over there," I told her, "but hadn't realized it was you."

"Did you enjoy the rest of your afternoon there?"

"You bet! It's a gorgeous spot. I hope my being there didn't drive you away."

"No! No, no. I did have to get going."

"Guess when you've lived by there your whole life, you get used to leaving it. I had to drag myself away."

"Oh, no. It's still hard to leave. It's my favorite spot in the whole world."

"So your house is just up the hill... do you still live with your parents?"

"No, I grew up there with my mom. She passed, so the house is mine."

"Sorry to hear that. So you live alone?"

"No, Derek is there too."

Ah shit, I thought.

"Derek?"

"My boyfriend. You met him at the Christmas party, I thought."

Yeah... shit. I had met that guy, but didn't realize he was with her. Dude thought dressing up nice for a company Christmas party meant wearing his nicest Carhartt shirt and slicking his thinning hair down flat. He talked at me about hockey for twenty minutes.

"Ah, right! Derek. He seemed like a good guy."

"Yeah, he is," she answered, looking down. I didn't think she meant it.

"Anyway," she said after an awkward pause, "I better get back to it."

"Yeah. Maybe I'll see you down there this weekend, the weather's supposed to be perfect."

She smiled and adjusted her cardigan.

"Maybe!"

"I'll be there tomorrow afternoon, for sure," I told her, instinctively leaning in closer.

"Oh!" She straight-up blushed. "I'm not sure if I can-- but maybe!"

"I'll take maybe," I told her, feeling like a million bucks.

She got up in a slightly bizarre way, like she'd forgotten how, and moved away. I watched her hips sway as she walked out the door.

The next day, I was at the spot by noon. It was warmer out today. That just meant more time in the water would be necessary. Not a problem.

Two hours passed. I swam, I drank, I toked, I sat in silence, relaxing. But no sign of Aimee. I started to get bored and filled up a second bowl. This was a mistake. I smoked too much, too fast. I'm not the stoner I was back in the day; my tolerance is far less than it once was. And since all I had to drink was beer and the sun was bearing down on me, I was probably a touch dehydrated. Suddenly, the peaceful scene around me became overwhelming. I could hear everything all at once: the water splashing against every rock, the countless birds tweeting and whistling in the trees, the branches swaying and creaking. The sun was now blindingly bright. The heat was baking me where I sat. I have to go, I thought. I must find a dark, quiet space.

Just then, I saw her on the hillside, gliding down to the water like an angel descending from on high. She wore a white tank top, which reflected the sunlight. Her pink shorts were... short. Her long blonde hair fell down her shoulders in two massive braids. I held my breath as I felt her glowing aura draw me ever closer to her...

And then all was dark and cold. I was under the water. I don't even remember stepping off the rock. And just as suddenly, my head broke the surface and I gasped for air.

I heard her voice in the distance cry, "Are you ok?!"

I threw a thumbs-up over my head as I coughed up water.

I'm not sure how I made it to the beach, but I did. I stumbled up onto the sand. Everything was a swirl of tree green and sky blue and sun gold.

"Are you ok?" she asked again.

"Ohhh... I'm good. I just slipped when I went to jump in."

My butt hit the sand with a thud.

"I just..." I mumbled, "I, uhh... maybe I'm a little dehydrated. I'm sorry--"

"No, no! Don't be! I get it. Gotta be careful laying out in the sun. I have some water."

Then she was standing before me, bending forward to offer me her water bottle. Her tank top fell away from her, and the cleavage between her dangling breasts was right before my eyes. I stared down the long, dark gap, fully entranced.

She said my name quietly, and it filled me with warmth. She said it again, and I snapped out of it.

"Sorry! So sorry! I was... I just went away there for a moment."

"I could see that. Have a drink."

I took the bottle from her. There was ice in it. The cold water woke me up a touch.

"There's a shady spot over here," she said. "Why don't I help you over and--"

"Nope! I got it," I told her, rising shakily to my feet. "I'll just lie down here for a minute--" I stumbled to the shade and collapsed back down on the sand. "You just... do your thing... Get in the water... I'll just watch. I mean-- not that I'll watch, I mean-- I'll just-- while you-- or not-- Oh god!"

Aimee laughed.

"Drink more of that water," she said. "Maybe lie down."

"Good idea!"

I lay back. The warm sand was comforting, the cold water refreshing.

Aimee began to get herself situated. She set down her bag, pulled out a blanket, and spread it out on the beach. Then, her back to me, she grabbed the bottom of her tank top and pulled it up over her head, revealing the black bikini beneath. I watched her back muscles move as she lowered her arms. Magnificent. She unbuttoned her shorts and bent over as she pull them down, reveling her gloriously plump ass. My head was swimming. She never looked back in my direction, so I was free to watch her as she pulled out of bottle of tanning oil and began to lather herself. I'd never imagined I would ever see Aimee from the office ever be so sensual. As her hands moved about her arms, shoulders, thighs, stomach, butt, each began to glisten in the sun transforming her from a mere mortal to a glimmering goddess.

My eyes became heavy, but I was determined to keep them fixed on her...

"Hey, hey, you ok?"

I woke up. Aimee was standing over me. The crotch of her black swimsuit was dripping with river water. Droplets fell from her breasts and the tips of her braids.

"Oh, yes... I'm-- I'm doing very well, now."

"You fell asleep. I didn't want to wake you. But it's been an hour and a half. I'm headed back up to my place. Are you hungry? You're welcome to come over."

"I'd be happy to."

I got up on my feet. I felt hungover. My legs were a little shaky, and my mouth was dry. I downed the rest of the water she had given me.

"Lead the way," I told her.

She smiled and headed up the trail. She hadn't bothered to put her shorts back on; her bounteous black-bottomed booty was bouncing before my eyes. The outer third of her cheeks poured out from the sides. I felt myself stiffen slightly in my trunks. I wanted to suck the water off of her.

We reached the top of the hill. She wasn't kidding about her house being close. It's a charming little place, but nothing special. White vinyl siding, black shutters. There is an impressive vegetable garden, large enough to feed a small army.

We entered directly into her quaint kitchen. Shirtless and out of the warm air, I was immediately chilled.

"Ah!" I let out without thought.

"What is it?"

"It's just that my shoes and shirt are still on the other side of the river--"

"Oh! Right! That's ok. You can borrow one of Derek's shirts. I'm sure he won't mind."

Dammit, I thought, that's right. Derek.

Aimee went to the dryer in an alcove off the kitchen, grabbed a grey t-shirt from it, and brought it to me. Carhartt brand. What a surprise.

"Thanks. Where is Derek?"

"Oh, he's on a haul."

"Haul?"

"He's a truck driver. Left for Florida yesterday. Won't be back until late tomorrow. There's some banana bread on the counter; you're welcome to it. I'm just going to rinse off real quick, then I'll put something else together for us."

"Sure. Sounds great!"

She left me alone in the kitchen. I sat at the table in the corner and looked around. I had a feeling the decor was her mother's doing and she simply hadn't had the heart to change it. At least I hoped that was the case. I felt like I was a kid in the nineties again.

I heard the shower turn on above me. My face flushed at the thought that at that very moment, just over my head, Aimee was naked, water streaming down her curves--between her boobs, over her ass, dripping from her pussy...

I was still cold, but I had gone rock hard regardless. Christ. I couldn't remember the last time the mere thought of a woman made me erect. My mind was filled with the image of her soaping up those DD-cups... I pulled the end of my drawstring and moved my waistline under my balls. I couldn't believe it. I had my dick out in Aimee Johnson's kitchen while she showered naked above me. I grabbed myself, my cold hand feeling soothing. What would Aimee think if she knew I was stroking myself in her house? Would she be interested? Would it make her hot? Is she upstairs right now, touching herself? In my mind's eye, I saw her flatten her fingers and vigorously rub her clit and labia. Her mouth hung open, her brow furrowed as tension built inside her...

Cum exploded from my cock, spraying all over her old linoleum floor. It felt so wrong and so gratifying at the same time.

Reality came back with a crash. What kind of fucking pervert shit did I just do? What was I thinking? Then it hit me: the shower had stopped. Shit! When had that happened?! I popped my cock back into my trunks. Luckily, most of the cum shot far away, so I wasn't a sticky mess down there. Unfortunately, my jizz was all across her goddamn floor! She could be back down at any moment!

I grabbed a cup that was drying in her dish rack, filled it with water, and spilled it on the floor, trying to hit everywhere I saw a gooey drop. I grabbed a roll of paper towels, dropped to my knees, and got to work.

I was almost done when she stepped back in.

"Oh! Is everything ok?"

"Yeah, yeah. I just dropped a cup of water, that's all."

"Oh, that's alright. Thank you for cleaning it up."

"No problem!"

I wiped up the last bit and threw the paper towels into the trash, getting rid of all the evidence. I turned and took her in. She wore plaid pajama pants and a spaghetti string tank top that was unfortunately too high-cut to show her cleavage. But I could see the outlines of her pink bra, straining to hold the weight of her massive breasts.

"You know, I was thinking," she said, "it's getting to evening. I thought maybe instead of a snack, I could put together a dinner. Does that work for you?"

"Hell yes!"

She giggled.

"Alright then. You like trout?"

"Sounds great."

She moved about the kitchen while I sat at the table and munched on banana bread, fucking fantastic banana bread. We talked about people at work. Polite as she is at the office, she had some complaints about Martha and Joanne. Every time her bare feet walked across the center of the kitchen floor, my breath shallowed. I knew I couldn't have cleaned up every possible molecule of my semen, and that they were now on her soft, pretty feet.

At one point, she asked, "Do you want something to drink other than water?"

"What do you got?"

"Juice, milk... unless you want a drink drink. Derek has got some beers in the fridge, I drink wine."

"Red or White?"

"White."

Gross.

"Sounds good."

"It's... boxed."

Gross.

"Does it have alcohol in it?"

"Hehe. Yes."

"Sounds good!"

We had both finished a couple of glasses before we even began eating. We drank more as we dined. The dinner was better than any I've had in a good long time: trout with a lemon cream sauce on rice and sautéed green beans. I praised it throughout. After the seventh or eighth time, she burst into laughter.

"You really liked it, huh?"

"Girrrrrl, you can cooook!"

"Haha! I'm glad you enjoyed it. I do love cooking, but don't get a chance to do it for others much."

"Shame! You're wasted in accounts, you should be a chef or some shit."

"Stop! I'd rather garden full time."

"Yes you seem to be pretty damn good at that too."

"Inherited a green thumb from my mom."

"I'm sure she'd be proud of you."

"Thanks."

There was an awkward pause.

"So..." I said, "this has been really nice, but if I hadn't stumbled my way into a dinner here, what would your Saturday night have been?"

"Not much really. Just here by myself."

"Sounds sad."

"Maybe a little. What would you be doing?"

"Well... just being at my house by myself."

"Ha! Judge not... But that's ok. Derek is gone a lot, so I'm used to it."

"And what do you do here all alone? You can only cook so much for one."

"I'd be in the living room crocheting."

"Thrilling."

"And probably watching a Hellraiser movie."

"Wait! What?!"

"I've been trying to watch them all."

"You. Crocheting. While watching Hellraiser."

"Derek doesn't like horror. Or most movies that aren't superhero-related. He mostly watches hockey, rugby, and old Simpsons episodes. So I gotta get my horror fix when he's not around."

"Well, well. Aimee Johnson. I didn't think you'd have any surprises for me."

"Hey! I got surprises aplenty!"

"Let's hope so."

Another pause, this time it was different, intense. She seemed to be trying hard not to blush. I stared at her plump lips, then looked up into her deep blue eyes. She stared right back into mine.

"Well," I ventured, "I just saw an ad for a new slasher on Netflix. It's not late, maybe we could--"

"I'll make popcorn."

Ten minutes later, we were sitting in her living room as the movie started. Like the kitchen, the room seemed like it was decorated by an old lady, with a comfy sofa and a recliner. I sat down first, on the sofa, and was pleased when she sat on it with me (at a respectful distance, of course, but still.) Then I thought, the chair is probably Derek's, and she's just sitting on the sofa out of habit. I told myself to stop questioning and take the win.

I realized then that I was actually doing this: actively maneuvering to create a situation in which Aimee might fuck me. But that was insane. Quiet, polite Aimee Johnson from the office, with her long skirts and cardigans? She couldn't possibly be the type to go behind her long-term boyfriend's back, even if he had a beer gut and no personality. But ever since I saw her laying out on that beach across the water, I'd become ever-more consumed by the thought of having her, of seeing those magnificent breasts bare and bouncing, of tasting the wet, pink flesh between her thighs, of grabbing that ample ass by the handful as I pounded her from behind, and of filling her with my cum, claiming her as my own. Whatever impediment Derek may have been, his existence made me want her all the more. To know that such a gorgeous and sweet girl was being wasted in a boring dumbass like him infuriated me.

The movie was a slasher flick, so naturally within the first twenty minutes a pretty young actress took off her top and started fucking some douchebag. Aimee and I sat there, our eyes glued to the screen, watching the character's perky tits sweat as she rode her boyfriend, listening to her exaggerated gasps and mons. In my periphery, I saw Aimee shift about for a moment and take a big gulp of her (fifth?) glass of wine. Watching sixty seconds of softcore action usually wouldn't get me to full staff, but under the specific circumstances, I found myself making some adjustments on my end of the sofa as well. I was still in my swim trunks, and it was difficult to keep things from being obvious.

An hour in, and the "final girl" was walking through the woods, knowing the killer could jump out at every moment. Aimee made some soft squeals of tension from across the sofa.

"You doing alright?" I whispered. "I thought you watch these all the time."

"Yeah, but usually I have my crocheting. I can look down for a distraction when it gets too much."

"I could distract you, if you'd like."

"How?"

I looked into her cobalt blue eyes. The only thought in my mind was that I should spring across the sofa and kiss her. Watching her pupils dilate, I dared to believe the same thought was in her mind. But I didn't. I couldn't. And neither could she.

Just then, the killer popped onto the screen with a big musical stab. Aimee jumped and shrieked, which made me jump in response. We both burst into laughter.

"Maybe," I suggested, "we should just be done with the movie for now."

"Yeah, sure. It's scary enough, but pretty unoriginal."

She pressed stop on the remote.

"It's not that late," she says, "but-"

"Yeah, I should probably get going."

"Oh! No, I didn't mean that!"

"Ah, well, I probably should find my way, it's already getting dark out, and all my stuff is still by the river. I don't really want to swim across it in the dark."

"I hadn't thought about that."

"Yeah. But if I don't swim across, it's quite a walk."

"I'd offer to drive you, but after this much wine..."

"Ah, no, I get it. I think I'll just swim back across."

"Eek. Might be cold."

"Then I'll get cold. My stuff is still piled over there."

"Oh shit! I'll, um- I'll walk down with you."

"You don't have to do that!"

"No, it looks like a nice night out."

She threw some Crocs on and we headed out. The night air was still warm. There was only a quarter moon, but the night sky was so clear, it was enough to see by, though we had to move slowly down the hill.

"I haven't been down here at night for a long time," Aimee said as we went. "Used to with my girlfriends back in high school all the time."

"Yeah, and what would you girls do down there?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Drink some beers someone stole. Try to smoke, but just end up coughing."

"Skinny dipping?"

"Ha! Yeah, sometimes. If we forgot our suits."

"That sounds like a good time."

We reached the beach. The moonlight sparkled silver off the surface of the river. The big rock where I left my things looked a mile away across the water.

"You sure you wanna swim across now?" she asked.

"I'll be alright. Just watch until I get to the other side to make sure I don't drown or anything, k?"

"Sure thing."

I took off the shirt she lent me and handed it over. I noted that she couldn't help but take me in for a moment. I held out the shirt.

"Thanks for that."

She took it, her fingertips grazing my hand.

"Thanks for a lovely evening," she replied.

I stepped into the water.

"How is it?"

"It's cold, sure, but not too cold. It helps that it's still so warm out."

"It is! Surprising for this time of year! I'm a little sweaty, actually."

I walked farther in. The water felt lovely. I dived in, submerging myself. I came back up to standing and heard Aimee laugh.

"I guess it's not too cold at all!"

"It's really not! Come on in yourself!"

I walked out until the water was up to my shoulders.

"It's really that refreshing, huh?" she asked.

She tossed off her Crocs and stepped ankle deep into the water.

"Ooo, that is nice!"

"I told you! Come on in!"

"I'm not wearing my swimsuit!"

"Is that going to stop a country girl like you?"

She gave me a smirk. She grabbed the bottom of her tank top and pulled it over her head. Her pink bra boosted her breasts up to make a dark, thick line of cleavage. She put her thumbs over the waistband of her pajama pants, then hesitated. She pulled them down to reveal little black underwear. As she turned to the side to set her pants on the beach, I could see why she hesitated: the underwear was a thong. Aimee Johnson, a thong girl! Who would have known? But she didn't turn any further, so I did not get to see her cheeks in their full glory.

Aimee stepped deeper and deeper into the water.

"Ohh, yeah.. This is nice."

"I told you."

She swam out to me.

"Just when I thought," she said, "this evening couldn't be lovelier."

"I'm glad you've had a good time."

"I have, I really have. It's been surprising."

"Surprising that my company is enjoyable?"

"He! No! I've always liked... chatting with you. I thought I might see you down at the water today, and was looking forward to it. But I didn't expect you to pass out from heat stroke."

"Hey, that's not exactly-"

"I didn't think you'd come to my place, that we'd have dinner, that we'd watch a movie together."

"That we sit in awkward silence while we watch some scream queen get nailed."

"Oh my god! Yes! That was something I had not expected at all! And I didn't think we'd end up back here for a night swim."

"Is it just like the old days?"

She smiled.

"Not quite... not yet."

Her hand went behind her back, and suddenly her bra straps loosened, then the cups fell away from her. She was too deep in the water for me to see her breasts, but they were there in front of me, bare. Her hands went down under water and came back up holding a little black thong. She bunched up the bra and thong and tossed them on a tall rock poking up high from the water's surface.

Without a word of reply, I reached down and pulled off my trunks, dropping them beside her undergarments. I stood naked before her, water rushing around my straight, solid cock.

"Now this is surprising," I said.

"Well, it's not like we can see each other."

"Right."

"And it does feel good, doesn't it?"

"But there is a problem."

"What's that?"

I walked up to her through the water. Her eyes were focused on my lips. She looked nervous.

"I want to see you."

She glanced up at my eyes. Her mouth was slightly open, and her breathing quickened. It felt like we stood there forever, facing one another, inches from touching. Finally, she gave an exhale of resolution, moved over to the rock. Her body rose past the surface of the water. She climbed atop the rock and stood above me, the water running down her, shining in the moonlight. Aimee Johnson transformed by the moonlight into a silver goddess, her breasts heavy and firm, her cold, torpedoing nipples pulled tight by the night air. Her strength was revealed by the two deep diagonal fullers across her soft belly, defining her abdominals. Her hips and thighs were round and powerful. Water droplets hung from her short, golden pubic hairs. As my eyes fixated upon them, she raised a foot and placed it on a higher plane of the rock, opening her legs and sharing a glimpse of the blossoming pink lips between them.

I waded straight toward her in a reverie. As I grew closer, she loomed ever-higher above me, looking down upon me with desire, uncertainty, passion, resolve, desperation, and assurance. My lips came to within an inch of her navel. I felt her fingers entwine with my hair as she pulled me down between her legs. It is as though she intuited exactly what I wanted.

Eating pussy has always been my greatest joy. My ex-wife once stated it was the only thing in the world I was truly good at. A labia and clit are delicacies I cannot resist indulging in. I had not been satiated in two long years.

My tongue reached out until the tip touched the ends of her labia minora. Delicately, I explored their contours. They were short and thick, meaty. Aimee shuttered. Her fingers lightly held my head. I pressed the flat of my tongue against the entirety of her vulva and slowly, but firmly, rocked my chin back and forth.

Aimee's breath contracted. I could feel her fingers tightening in my hair, urging me on, as I took my time, savoring every inch of her. Her hips began to move, rocking gently against my face. I could taste her arousal, salty and sweet. It fueled me. I lapped her up harder, faster. She gripped my head ever tighter. I felt the pleasure building inside her, kept pressing until it began to reach its peak, then suddenly pulled my mouth away. She sighed in anguish.

I took a breath, then gently brought my lips back toward her. I kissed the her clit hood. I kissed it again. And again, sucking on it for half a second. I found her clit with the tip of my tongue and began to twirl it around, feeling it swell and harden under my touch. Aimee's shaky little breaths sprinkled down to my ears. I sucked gently, taking her clit into my mouth, rolling my tongue over it as I continued to explore her folds with my lips.

I began to rub my tongue against her again, this time focusing my pressure on her clit. Aimee's breathing grew louder, as I focused all my attention on her clit, sucking and licking in a rhythm she matched with the rocking of her hips. Her fingers dug into my scalp, holding me firmly in place as she undulated against my face, reaching, grasping for a release. Through her gasps, she squeaked out a breathy word. It sounded like my name.

I pressed on. I wanted to feel her come undone on my tongue, to taste every last drop of her. I redoubled my efforts, my tongue and lips working in tandem to drive her wild. I slipped two fingers inside her, curling them upward against her anterior, while my mouth continued to devour her clit. Her legs began to twitch uncontrollably. My other hand latched onto her hip to hold her steady.

She convulsed as she cried my name out into the night, a cry that bounced off the water, into the trees, and to the star-filled sky beyond. I held her firmly, my fingers and tongue never stopping their relentless rhythm as I drew out every last shudder of pleasure that could be pulled from her.

And then with one last gasp, her breathing slowed, and I slowed too. I slid my fingers from her and again gently explored her sensitive flesh with my tongue, like a boy licking his plate clean. Her legs relaxed, her breathing slowly returning to normal.

The water lapped gently against the rocks. Her fingers sifted through my hair.

With one last kiss, I pulled myself away.

I looked up. She looked down on me, her azure eyes large and thankful. The Goddess of the River, satisfied by my offering.

She collected her undergarments, slid down from the rock, and made her way through the water to the shore.

She continued to move up the hill, her back and buttocks reflecting the silver moonlight, as she seemingly floated upward to heaven.

I followed her, a zealot of her flesh.