You
You see him get off his bike and, nonchalantly, like nobody’s watching – as far he knows, nobody is – take off first his shirt, then his shoes, socks, and finally shorts and underwear, till he’s standing there at the edge of the lake, totally nude, totally unselfconscious. He doesn’t see you. The sun is beaming down pleasantly on him from its mid afternoon vantage point. His skin is reddish, like it’s recovering from a recent sunburn. He walks briskly into the water.
You watch him swim for a while. He bobs up and down, swims out a ways, swims back. He spends a lot of time floating on his back. It’s during one such moment that you sneak out of your hiding place and abscond with his pile of clothing, hiding it back in the woods a ways. It was a momentary impulse, but, then, so had been coming out here in the first place, and so had been darting off the bike path a ways just moments before he arrived… Maybe it was a day for following momentary impulses?
It’s some time before he comes out of the water and notices his clothing is gone. He doesn’t come all the way out, hiding his lower torso under the unclear lake water instead. He looks startled, confused… poor thing, how long should you keep him waiting?
Not long. You step out into the open. When he sees you, he darts deeper into the lake, hiding his chest, now, too. Shy…? Not so shy a moment ago. “Um…! Excuse me?” he asks. “Did you see,” is he blushing? “a pile of clothes? Nearby?” This last bit added sheepishly, as if he knows he’s elaborating on the obvious but says it anyway.
“That depends,” you say, smiling. It’s a beautiful smile, mischievous, like a trickster goddess in an old story.
His body sinks a little deeper into the water. If he goes much further he’ll be drinking it.
You step closer to the edge of the lake, doffing your shoes and padding on bare feet through damp sand. “Relaxxxx,” you say, drawing it out. “Do you need these to see?” You hold up his glasses – the prescription looked strong enough you thought you might hold onto them. You stoop there, on the waterline, holding your sundress up with one hand and presenting the man his glasses with the other.
He approaches, cautiously, trying to keep himself submerged. He is only partially successful, and, as he reaches out to grab his glasses, you sneak a closer look at him before he darts back into deeper waters.
Now, what to do? Follow another momentary impulse, you suppose… “I’ll help you get your clothes back,” you say, “but I need you to do something for me, first.”
“Um.” He sits there, bobbing up and down. You can tell he’s taken aback by you – this strange, pale redhead in the light sundress with the curious, gently impish smile. You notice that he needs a shave.
“Relaxxx,” you repeat. “Take a deep breath for me…” You note with pleasure that he does this almost immediately. “And let it out. That’s right. Good boy…” You begin a very measured induction. Maybe not the most subtle induction in the world, but at least a gradual one… and he doesn’t seem so much concerned about you as he is frightened of being seen naked. You wonder why. You get his breathing to regulate slow and easy and suggest he stare deep into your blue eyes. You begin relaxing his muscles, one by one by one.
“Why don’t you come a little closer?” He inches closer, eyes lidded and mouth slightly slack. “Closer,” you say, and he does. You back up, and arrange yourself more comfortably on the dry beach. “Closer…” He’s thigh deep now, and standing. When the water recedes you note with pleasure the beginning of an erection. You suspected he was enjoying the process, but it’s always nice to see some proof…
You continue to put him in a deeper and deeper trance. Finally you ask him to come out of the water. You kiss the tip of his cock; it surges gratefully and you smile. You stand, facing him now, a little shorter, but not much; a comfortable match, really. You run a single finger lightly along the length of his shaft… “Help me out of this dress,” you whisper. He does so, almost automatically, lifting the dress above your shoulders and raised arms until you’re standing there in only bra and panties. No one else to see, as far as you can tell.
You cup his neck and bring him down to the beach with you. “Lick me,” you command, guiding his head to your lap… he removes your panties and begins, and – though industrious – he’s inexperienced. You pause him, and begin a brief tutorial on the finer points of orally pleasuring a woman. You speak of technique, rhythm, force, and even a bit of anatomy that had so far apparently eluded him. This takes some time… until he finally gets it right, and, “Come here,” you say, drawing his lips to yours.
“Take off my bra,” you mutter hoarsely… he does, roughly, ineloquently, and your bare chests meet; he presses himself tightly against you, his full hardness now rubbing against your inner thigh.
His hands grab the back of your shoulders and yours wrap around his waist… “In me,” you order, “now…” and, grabbing him and guiding him in, he bucks, gently, against you and in you…
The two of you tussle and wrestle like that for what feels like forever, until you tense and cum and moan lightly for him to slow and eventually stop, which he does, still hard and pulsing within you. You’re breathing heavily, now. “Sleep!” you cry, and he goes limp, slumping over you. “Roll over,” you wheeze, and he does, you following, keeping him, still hard, within you. Now on top you raise yourself on your arms and stare into his eyes, gently kneading your pelvis into his in a slow rhythm.
“Repeat after me,” you say, “Breathe deeply in…” He does.
“Breathe deeply in…” he says. You do.
“And gently out,” you say. He does.
“And gently out,” he says. You do.
“Stare into my eyes…” He stares into deep green eyes.
“Stare into my eyes…” You stare into deep brown eyes.
… all his muscles slacking, save his cock, which remains hard. Your own limbs gradually fading as you utter one sentence after another, all repeated faithfully by him, your body folding into his. “Let your eyes shut…” “Let your eyes shut…” Your head on his chest, your lips pointed to his ear, still giving commands, commands fed back to you in his mumbling monotone, until you feel him convulse and shoot into you, and the only thing you can think to say is, “Sleep…”
“Sleep…”
“Sleep…”
“Sleep…”
And so on, until all words are replaced by only tranquil breathing in the sun.
You wake first. You see him sleeping contentedly next to you. You gather your clothes and put them on. “Wake,” you whisper in his ear. He stirs, opening his eyes slowly and then, startled, jerks up and away from you. His memory is probably fuzzy. You place a hand on his chest. “Relaxxx,” you whisper.
You feel his heart beat slow; your tone reminds him to trust you, he associates it with pleasure, and you know that deep down he’s still under your influence. “Get dressed,” you tell him, and he does – though not before you notice, with a happy smile, that he is already beginning to firm up again.
You guide him back to your car and order him to get in. He does. You notice that though he is only in a light trance, he is more than willing to obey you. This bodes well. You dive him back to your home, and prepare a bath for him. He slips out of his clothes and under the water. He bathes and you prepare the bedroom, excitement tingling through you. You take off your clothes and put on your silk robe. “Come here, dear,” you call, lounging on the bed. He steps into the room, beaded with water, the blank look on his face touched only lightly with trepidation. “Relaxxx,” you say. “Here,” you hand him a sleeping pill. “Take this.”
He pauses only a moment before doing so. You smile. “Now lie down.”
You lie down next to him, opening your robe and resting your exposed skin up next to his. He shivers. “It’s alright,” you say, placing fingers around his gradually rising member. “The pill will help you sleep. I like my boys sleepy.” You stroke him. “So,” stroke, “so,” stroke, “so,” stroke, “sleeeeepy…”
He whimpers. You kiss him, then slip a shoulder and breast free of the robe, repositioning your chest next to his slackening mouth. A nipple grazes his lips. He responds and you gasp. “That’s right,” you say. He suckles, sleepily, and you reassure him with quiet praise until finally the pill takes hold and his mouth slides away.
You stand up, and slide the robe entirely off. You play with his sleeping form only a little before restraining his arms and then his legs to the posts of the bed. You take a sleeping pill yourself and nestle in next to him.
You will have fun with this one.