Lapping at her cove

By the time Mark had found his way around to the light, Stacy had thought better of her splashing adventures. He caught a few more snaps of her emerging from the water like a swamp monster from the murky lagoon though. It was surprisingly sexy to see her as this sodden mess, everything clinging close to her body for dear life. He had seen the girl naked a hundred times of course… but somehow this sodden outfit showed off her curving form in a whole new light. Silhouetting it perhaps. Drawing the eye to every shapely detail. She wasn’t some perfectly-chiseled cheerleader or stick thin model. Her cheeks were slightly puffy and eyes were always baggy. Her shoulders sloped out squarely to hold all the chips she held upon them and her legs were toned but certainly did not go on forever. Yet, wearing that daring little smile she did right now… and the confidence with which she put everything she had upon display. He would challenge any man not to call the girl a marvel. She was the perfect nerdy wet dream: homely and approachable, but oh so visibly full of dark and twisty ideas.

She kissed him again, tasting slightly of pond water, and pushed him back against the door their guiding star had brought them to. It fell open easily, causing them to both topple onto a mercifully dry floor. Inside were indeed all the furnishings of a homebrewed workshop, though not the one they had left Peter in. Neither of them paid much attention to the surroundings though, the cresting wave of horniness within them had finally broken. Soaked-through clothes were dragged from dripping limbs and discarded in a frenzy of wrestling undress, until the two of them were left lying naked upon cold stone. Outside the storm continued to rage, catching and slamming the door they had left open. Inside Stacy had her prey pinned between her thighs, pinching nails into his chest as she bit lightly into his lip. Mark found himself overthrown by all these changing points of sharp pleasure. Soggy discomfort somehow embroiled into the wonderful softness of all her skin and muscle. He was shown the gates of heaven as she brought her hips forward, crunching her vulva up to his mouth.

The boy could do nothing but what he was supposed to, sticking his tongue out into those depths and lapping for dear life. He felt Stacy’s fingers wind their way through his hair, scratching and caressing as she pulled his head up as far a she could into the gap between her thighs… and ground her sex against him. He could hear the gasps and moans his efforts stole from her, even over the roar outside. Nothing was more inspiring than winning yet another of those unconscious feminine expulsions from her rosy lips far above. So he kept going as long as he heard them, unaware of any changes in the atmosphere of the room.

Stacy stared up at the man in the doorway. He was an old man, quite fat and with a distinctive grey beard she recognised… one of Peter’s model-club associates. Beyond him lay what looked like the kitchen of an old and rustic house. His kitchen… she would assume… and his house…

Another sighing moan slipped from her mouth. She just couldn’t help it. Mark was doing an incredible job down there. She continued to massage the back of his head with steady hands, never once losing eye contact with the man they appeared to be on the property of. His expression remained an open book, simply bemused to find such a sight outside his backdoor… neither cracking into fury nor looking particularly embarrassed. Stacy decided she had to make the move here, or else far more sensible and dangerous logic might take hold.

“Hi.” She said, calmly and cheerfully. “We got a bit caught out in the rain… Would you like to watch?”