Mom Runs Wild
Martin Hale went to the window or the small rented cabin and parted the red gingham drapes. His eyes traveled across the heavily wooded landscape of the New England mountains and finally settled on the crisp blue water of Lake Merriam. But Martin kept searching until he saw her, his daughter, Jane.
She was floating on a yellow air mattress about twenty feet out in the calm water. Her bright red bikini contrasted with the yellow of the mattress to make her look like some kind or comfortable fishing float. Martin was more aware of the contrast between the skimpy red bikini and Jane's thoroughly exposed flesh. Well-tanned, smooth flesh, the flesh of an eighteen-year-old girl full of health, vigor and overly eager ideas. When he'd first seen the string bikini earlier in the week Martin's gut reaction was one of shock she looked naked the thing hardly covered anything and everything it didn't cover was just too appealing to let hang out Then he remembered where they were, the cabin was so Isolated, so deeply hidden in the mountains next to this seldom visited lake that the chance of anyone but himself, Beth or Timothy, her brother, seeing the ripe nudeness was very slim.
But Martin did have to admit to himself that his little girl was now a woman very much a woman. He didn't know where the years had gone, but it did take years, it had to take that long for nature to build such a splendid body. Either way, Jane was occupied; he knew she'd float out there for hours. He looked around to see if Tim was near.
As usual, Tim was nowhere in sight that was something to expect from a seventeen-year-old boy. Probably off fishing or hiking on the mountain, Martin figured. The chances of Timothy coming back during the next few hours were remote. Martin closed the drapes and looked through the dimness of the cabin bedroom toward the sleeping woman in the bed. It was Beth, his faithful wife.
Timothy Hale was doing both things, fishing and hiking. At least he had his fishing rod with him, but he wasn't too close to the water he y was cautiously hiking over the mountain watching stopping now and. then like a hunter to peer into the trees ahead. He squinted the blue eyes of his freckled face and brushed the red shock of hair back from his forehead before moving on, this time toward a spot he'd been to before.
It was a prominent point where he could look down at the lake and see just about everything, coves, shoreline, the cabin back in the woodsy even Jane out on her stupid air mattress. His eyes took scant notice of these familiar things and kept searching. Tim quickly stepped back into the cover of the shrubbery when he saw it-the boat. It was the same boat he'd seen the day before, small, wood, with two people inside. The man sat back and steered the small motor, a woman with light blonde hair sat forward near the bow. Timothy crouched down and watched the distant craft as it slowly and painfully cut across the lake. It was still too soon to tell where they were headed.
Jane Hale took a deep breath and just let it ease from her lungs. She liked doing that, swelling her chest up with air until the red bikini top hugged tight to her breasts, then gradually allowing the halter to go slack and slip away. She had it hooked on the farthest button so it hung loosely on her breasts and let them jostle and bounce whenever she walked, it was almost like having nothing up there at all.
But even lying on the yellow air mattress with the hot sun cooking down on her skin, Jane liked an occasional swell of airy just to remind herself. That's all she could do, she sadly thought. Way up here in the middle of nowhere there weren't many young men to entice and excite with her breathing exercises; actually there were none, unless she counted her father or brother.
Jane sighed and gritted her teeth-what a drag. She was sorry she'd let her father make the plans for this vacation; it was just like him to dig up some place where there was no chance she'd meet any guys at all. He might as well have sent her to a convent instead submitting her to this torture. And to top it all off, he was going back home now for a few days and refused to let her come along.
Jane had gotten mad the night before when she'd asked if he'd take her along. "I can do your cooking and make sure the house is neat," she pleadingly said.
"Sorry, Jane," he answered. "I wouldn't go back unless I had to. It's business and I can't afford to miss it. I'll be very busy trying to get the deal drawn up fast, if I'm alone I'll be able to get down to work and finish quick. Then I can get back up here and enjoy this beautiful spot with my family."
"But I won't get in the way… " she whined.
"Jane!" her mother sternly said. "Your father told you you can't go!"
It's unfair, Jane told herself as she sullenly floated on the water. Unfair. The hot sun was giving her a deep, bronze tan and making her gold hair shine with light. She stretched her long, lithe legs, yawned and rested back on the mattress. Her narrow hips, flat belly and large, fully-fleshed breasts were motionless as she tried to sleep. What else was there to do?
Martin Hale looked at his watch. He was anxious to get going but knew there was one last thing to take care of. He'd be gone two, maybe three days, but he wanted to make sure Beth was content. The kids were sure to be out for hours, and he knew the sooner he took care of Beth the sooner he'd be on the road… and he was anxious to take care of the 'business' at home.
He sat at the foot of the bed and gently lifted the blankets. Beth's small, graceful feet and ankles moved as the cooler air touched them, but she didn't wake up. Martin lifted more of the covers away and smiled. He really dug Beth's legs. They were the long, curving limbs of a model and still had every bit of the beauty which had first attracted him to her. She was lying on her side and the soft, velvet-fleshed legs were slightly parted.
He pushed the blankets up even more until the round, firm curve of Beth's fine backside was exposed. She was wearing tight, brief-cut undies of white with her shortie nightgown. Martin could see the shadowed crease between her asscheeks and a soft mound of tender skin and hair keep in the crotch of the underwear. Tasty lumps of stark white skin were exposed where the panties failed to cover all her round backside.
Beth was sleeping heavily and Martin knew it would take more than removing the covers to wake her, so he lifted them all away. He stood at the side of the bed and removed his shirt and pants while watching her deep-breathing body.
The pink tips of her tight, small breasts were visible through the sheer white pajama top. She had hardly changed since the day they married, her narrow-waisted body was as firm and vibrant as ever.
Martin stripped down to nothing but his half-hard cock and slid onto the bed behind her. The smell of her brown, wavy hair was fresh, the warmth of her close body very noticeable. He rested his hand on the soft curves of her ass and squeezed. The cock instantly surged with renewed vigor and stiffened. Beth mumbled quietly in her sleep, but didn't wake up.
He moved in close enough to feel the satin of the undies with the expanding head of his cock. He brushed it up and down in the crease while still giving each cheek gentle squeezes. Then he moved one hand up under the nightie; Beth rolled back against him in her sleep, and a soft moan came from her mouth.
Martin felt the gentle slope of her breast, then the pliant and hot nipple. It slid into his fingers like a hot dab of butter, to become a burning, claylike cone under his rolling pinch. Her ass was fully against him now, pinning his throbbing cock with walls of soft meat against his stomach. Martin kept his hips moving, kept the inflamed cock sliding up and down inside the hugging crease of satin.
Beth's sleeping body was warm and smooth as it unconsciously responded to the hands and stiff prong. The slow breathing of her partially open mouth became deeper, and she swallowed, dreaming the pinching fingers on her breasts and the gently massaging cock in the fold of her ass belonged to a young man, a bright-smiling, gregarious youth with tight flesh across his stomach and no end to the insistent pecker, a beautiful, arching shaft of glowing muscle rising from a bed of red hair.