Amateur

Paul’s heavy eyelids slowly fluttered open to a beautiful, quiet morning, clear mountain air slipped through thin curtains and he sluggishly took inventory. Where am I? He immediately felt the rush of security that his old bed, in his parents’ cabin provided. What about that girl, with the short hair in the swimming pool and her bed? Just a dream and…Sherry? That was no dream…she was here last night! Paul smiled, wriggling naked under the sheet, leisurely stroking his morning erection.

He yawned loudly, stretching his rested limbs against the smallish bed and caught the faint whiff of coffee. Paul swung his legs out, bare feet touching the cool boards and reached for a pair of shorts, sliding into them carefully, his mammoth hardon screamed painfully to urinate.

Sidling down the narrow hallway, the coffee smell from the kitchen below was stronger and Paul dashed into the bathroom, hurriedly compelling the stiffy to subside. He sighed as the flow of piss began, staring at the knotty pine paneling, their old porcelain sink with original, archaic fixtures and the rectangular, beveled mirror fronting the medicine cabinet. The compact room was slightly humid from a recent showering and a relieved Paul jiggled off the last few drops.

Unscrewing the cap, he swished a mouthful of Scope and spat into the sink, sunlight glittered off an object lying near the edge and Paul noticed it was Sherry’s bracelet. On the rim of the tub sat a bottle, Sherry’s brand of body wash, Oil of Olay. The detective quickly deduced, it was she who had preceded Paul and his eyes darted to the wicker hamper.

Secretly, Paul’s juvenile, mischievous fingers opened the lid and there they were…Sherry’s light blue panties nesting upon a wrinkled bath towel. Without hesitation he plucked out the intimate pair of bikini underwear, adoring their soft touch and utter weightlessness, his penis stirred.

Girls are so lucky, Paul thought, to have such lovely, silky underthings covering their privates; his bulky, trembling fingers opened the lacy waistband and held them up, inviting his invisible sister to step in. Sherry’s smooth derriere filled the backside, the curved front; with its white cotton lining had the pressed imprint of her pink nether lips, his hardon returned.

Like a magnet, Paul brought them closer and buried his nose against the inner crotch, immediately gratified with the musky, personal scent of Sherry. He inhaled deeply. Lightheaded in the erotic moment Paul’s tongue eagerly lapped at the soiled fabric, attempting to extract a taste of her female sauce.

Cock throbbing, Paul’s desire for sister Sherry’s charms increased tenfold on this quiet morning but muffled voices from the downstairs brought him back to reality. Paul temporarily put the fantasy aside. Later, when privacy allowed, he’d masturbate, wrapping them around his cock and balls.

Stashing the undies, Paul dressed and made his way downstairs. The robust java revived his hunger and after the social good mornings dove into the leftover waffles. Mom lightly kissed his forehead, “Okay sleepyhead…we’ll be back in a bit.”

“Where you off to?”

“Your sister and I are going down to visit old Mrs. Benchley…she hasn’t seen Sherry in quite awhile and… you know doesn’t get out all that much…so…” Paul ogled the cute girl framed by the bright sunlight in their kitchen doorway. Wisps of red, clean hair sparkled and he unobtrusively scanned her haltered breasts, curvy hips within tight shorts and long tapered legs, Sherry wore simple but gorgeous brown leather moccasins, she noticed the sizing-up look in Paul’s eyes and winked.

“See ya…bro…”

Sipping coffee on the front porch, Paul and his father comfortably sat in weathered wicker chairs admiring the glassy lake and caught up on the latest, even mundane news.

“Think I’ll take the old canoe out…you know…clean her up and take in some fishing.” Working as a tandem, they maneuvered the sturdy craft out of the barn and into the shallow water. Paul eagerly worked to get every cobweb and speck of dust from the polished woodwork and applied a special marine wax. From the house he grabbed his tackle box and rod, slipped off his sneakers and eased into the canoe.

“Honk! Honk!” The Chevy Tahoe’s horn blared. Paul looked up at the faint cloud of dust hovering over the rough driveway and watched as Sherry sprinted down to the dock.

“Hey! Can I go with you? Please?” Captured by deep, friendly eyes, there wasn’t any way Paul could say no. Smiling, he slipped into the thigh deep water near the dock and holding Sherry’s hand gallantly guided her into the front seat. Retrieving the contoured paddle she turned and exuberantly waved to Mom.

With deep powerful strokes Paul eased the sleek canoe out into the shimmering lake. “Where’re we going?” Sherry asked over her shoulder, knowing Paul had a favorite, sheltered cove that was good for rainbow trout.

“Ah…let’s kartal escort bayan head for the sand bar.” He veered them slightly to the left. Working in tandem, their paddles knifed through the smooth surface and gliding easily, the canoe picked up speed. Within the natural surrounding beauty of thick forests infringing upon the lake’s circumference and clean, fresh water disturbed by only their subtle wake, Paul sensed an inner peace.

As the warm afternoon sun beat down, Paul absorbed the rippling muscles of Sherry’s arm and shoulders striving to keep pace. He gazed at the thin bra strap’s outline through her sheer blouse, a tiny band of perspiration blotted near the small of her back. Sherry’s beltless shorts hugged wide hips and an inviting, fleshy bottom.

Halfway across the sizable lake Sherry laid her paddle lengthwise across the bow and leaned forward for a break. “Are you tired sis?” Paul ceased his paddling, their momentum carrying them ahead for several yards.

“Yeah. A little. Guess I’m not quite used to this. Out of shape…” she giggled.

“Hey, I like your shape.” Paul smirked teasing and with the stoppage, stripped off his tee shirt.

“I brought water…here…” Sherry half turned to take the offered bottle of Aquafina and jealously noted his nakedness from the waist up.

“You’re lucky. Wish I could go topless. Maybe next time I’ll wear a sports bra or something…” and she quietly toyed with the idea, there were no other boats out and for that matter no-one was around for miles. Paul languidly paddled while Sherry sipped water and caught her breath.

They soon returned to paddling at their rhythmic pace, pushing the canoe over the wide lake, the bow sliced through the smooth waves, a faint wind at their backs. The larger body of water they crossed connected to a smaller pond aptly named: Little Pond. Paul steered towards the 30 foot wide opening and coming up fast was the shallow sand bar, it’s yellow, clean sand gleamed in the sunlight.

Heading directly for the shoreline, Sherry took her paddle in; the canoe’s momentum brought them onto land, the soft sand particles scraping harmlessly against the rugged bottom.

“Yippee! We made it!” Sherry bounded from the canoe, digging her toes into the warm, fresh water beach. A red hawk shrilled in the nearby forest, announcing their intrusion, Paul happily admired his sister’s simple youthfulness and grabbed the fishing gear.

The clear monofilament line floated across the distant stillness of Little Pond, its series of curlicues ending at the cork bobber, Paul’s serenity was apparent. Wading ankle deep, Sherry walked along the shore and stood next to her brother.

“It’s so peaceful here. So calm.”

“Yes it is.” Paul agreed.

“You look so calm…you know…relaxed and I hope I’m not bugging you…I mean…maybe you wanted to come alone or…”

“No. It’s fine. I’m glad you’re here. Really. Sometimes being out here…I don’t know…fishing alone is okay and sometimes it’s good to have company…someone to talk with…I…” Sherry reached up onto toes and kissed him on the cheek.

“I’m glad you let your little pain-in-the-ass sister come along…” She giggled.

“Hey…you’re not a pain in the ass…much!” He laughed out loud, gazing closely at her lovely eyes. Sherry grabbed onto Paul’s bicep and kissed him again, “I…uh…have to pee…”

“Well, you’re on your own…didn’t bring any TP…”

“That’s okay…I’ll just drip dry!” And scooping her soft leather moccasins from the canoe, dashed off behind the thick stand of mountain laurel.

Paul’s mind switched gears, instead of the potential trout nibbling on his submerged hook, he envisioned Sherry dropping her drawers and squatting to pee. They’d both seen one another relieving themselves in the outdoors but Paul distinctly remembered the intimate panties from this morning. Light blue outside, the inside that had delicately covered Sherry’s mons, catching her feminine dew or even a few leaking drops of pee.

His cock twitched within the confines of snug shorts and began to grow. He reeled in the fishing line and secured the canoe. Paul, none too quietly, brushed aside the thick cluster of low branches and spied Sherry 10 feet away partially hidden by some swamp maples. She was not caught unaware as he made his way near; she was just fastening the top brass button of her jean shorts.

“Oh you nasty boy…” Sherry giggled, ” Did you come out to spy on me? Watch me pee?” Paul stood close, leaning towards his sister, “No. I just think it’s a beautiful day…to go for a walk…or…” His lips pressed onto hers, Sherry’s fingers pulled the back of his muscular neck, opening her mouth wide, darting her tongue, flicking wildly against Paul’s. Breathlessly she whispered, “I love kissing you…” her hand palming the bulge in Paul’s shorts, “A walk…or?”

“Well sis…what I meant was…” in return his escort maltepe hand cupping Sherry’s round derriere, “We should hike up to…our pine grove…” Sherry’s eyes twinkled, “Oh yes…let’s do!”

Located several hundred yards into the quiet forest was the pine grove, their special place where Paul had tenderly taken Sherry’s hymen. The two kindred spirits became linked by the taboo moment and both took an oath of secrecy that neither had ever divulged…to anyone.

Grasping his sister’s moist palm, Paul led the way out of the confining bushes. Commonly used by deer, the narrow pathway wound through a cluster of young saplings, the air was noticeably stuffy as they ducked in and around the branches. The pair soon approached a trickling stream lined with lush green ferns.

Easily hopping over, Paul asked,” You doin’ alright?”

“Oh yeah. It’s warm though…” Sherry unbuttoned her blouse, pulling out the shirt tails, “That’s better…” she sighed exposing for Paul her flat tummy and firm white globes tightly encased in an adorable lacy bra. Excited and impatient, Paul thought of stripping his sister and jumping her bones right here and now but turned and continued along the trail, they’d be near the pines soon.

They walked parallel to the stream where patches of brown, silty mud clearly showed the recent triangular hoof prints from thirsty deer. Ahead, near some wild matted grasses, Paul turned to the left and strode up the inclined hill towards a sparse patch of magnificent birch trees; brilliant rays of sunlight filled the more open space. Several yards in, the miniscule trail veered off around an enormous pile of granite rocks etched with lichen that seemed to have erupted from the earth eons ago.

“Remember these?” Paul asked.

“Oh god…yes.” Whimsical Paul, from years past, had concocted one of his fantastic yarns for his sister: A long time ago, colonial settlers had buried a Frankenstein-like creature here, piling all these heavy stones over him to make sure he didn’t arise from the grave. Which of course he did. Terrorizing the farmers’ animals and on occasion a small child…

“You used to scare the crap out of me…with that story…gave me bad dreams!” Paul laughed, taking Sherry’s hand and leading her off the beaten path, around the pile of boulders towards another part of the forest, their destination. The terrain dipped again and at the bottom of the craggy ravine they faced a long impenetrable thicket of briars. Paul soon found an opening where a tree had fallen and they slipped through.

Acres of tall pine trees greeted them; overhead the canopy of evergreens cooled the area, a soft summer breeze whipped through the long needled branches. Entering into the darkened forest, the duo seemed hypnotized by its soundproofed nature and the towering giants above them.

With a burst of energy, Sherry shrieked happily to have finally arrived. Shucking off her blouse and bra, she skipped over the layers of rusty red needles, frolicking in and around the trunks of nearby trees like some type of wood nymph. There were no paths here; Paul followed the bare breasted girl deeper into the maze, the strong, rich scent of pine induced memories.

Stooping under a set of brittle branches Paul found Sherry kneeling beside an abandoned campfire, the small blackened logs pointing outward like the hands of a clock.

“Must’ve been hunters…probably last fall…”

“Yeah…probably…” Sherry agreed, plopping back onto the forest’s blanket, stretching her arms out, “Oh Paul…I just love it out here! I feel so free!”

Paul’s eyes were naturally drawn to Sherry’s strawberry red nipples centered upon fleshy white boobs that begged for attention…his attention. Sauntering towards his sister in the come-fuck-me pose, Paul lay next to Sherry idly teasing a turgid nipple and dollar sized areola.

“Paul?” Sherry’s hands were comfortably folded behind her neck as she looked into his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Tell me a story…please.”

“Oh…you mean about the retarded creature under the rocks?” Paul teased, knowing full well what she was hinting at.

“No…damn it…you know! A story…a sexy story with you and me in it…you know…” she shivered slightly as Paul’s fingers playfully squeezed and moved to caress the other nipple. A surge of confidence passed through Paul’s ego and loins knowing his words aroused Sherry. On occasions in the past, Sherry had freely masturbated, listening while he described and wove an erotic tale combining romantic and raw sexual scenarios.

Almost 200 years ago the countryside was untamed. Allan, a scout with French heritage, explores and lives in the wilderness. Wildflower, an Indian squaw from the Mohegan tribe is old enough to wed.

One day by accident, they meet in the woods and become boyfriend and girlfriend. Obviously the tribe would be very upset for Wildflower to be with a white man, an pendik escort enemy so they have to meet secretly. Today, by a quiet river they can be together, kissing and making out passionately. They’re tired of always meeting in the woods and Allan the scout suggests they go to his makeshift cabin where they can be completely free and completely alone.

The woods are quiet and they hug each other tightly by the banks of the river before getting their packs ready for the long walk. Suddenly, Allan alertly hears the dim sound of a twig snapping somewhere off in the forest. He freezes, holding Wildflower’s shoulders and with a finger to his lips, motions for her to be very still.

In a split second, a dozen Mohegan warriors dressed in breechcloths silently appear from behind trees, surrounding the duo on three sides with bows and arrows menacingly pointed at them. They are caught and with nowhere to run, they have no other option but to surrender. She trembles in his muscular arms, “What’ll we do now?”

“Just do what they say…” The leader of this party steps closer, glares at Allan and chucks his spear into the ground near his feet. He speaks loudly and rapidly to Wildflower and to the nearest brave, who’s probably like a captain. Allan mostly understands Mohegan but cannot translate every word.

The gist of it being: He is very disappointed with her choice, her actions are strictly against their tribal laws, all white people are enemies and that they’ve had to track Wildflower way out here. The captors are to be marched back to face the wrath and judgment of the Chief and basically a trial by the tribe. He orders them to take off their clothes and two Indians with strips of rawhide bind their hands in front.

Paul stood, unbuckled and quickly removed his shorts and underwear, exposing his bloated penis and balls for Sherry, glad to be naked. Lifting her hips, Sherry easily doffed her shorts and panties, rubbing her thick mound of pubic hair.

“I like this story…you’re good…” she encouraged.

The Indians laughed and snickered at their bare asses and the predicament they face. The frontier party moves along a shaded forest path with warriors in front and back, the sandwiched, barefoot captors are prodded along. One Indian hurls insults at them, touches Wildflower’s derriere with his spear and knocks Allan down, twice.

Naked, sweaty and dirty they arrive at the Mohegan village amid the embarrassing jeers from the tribe and are commanded to kneel in front of the chief’s hut. Fearing for their lives, they somehow know that will not be their fate and when the chief appears, the tribe is temporarily silenced.

Compassionately he looks down at one of the tribes favored daughters and firmly asks Wildflower, “Why would you do such a thing?” She looks up at him and begs for forgiveness, she feels terrible for bringing shame to the tribe…but…deep in her heart she truly loves this man. Even though he’s different and not one of their people, she confesses that they are both deeply in love with one another.

Scornfully, “We’ll see how much you love the white man, tie him to the tree!” Quickly he is yanked upwards, wrists untied and roughly pushed against the tree’s rough bark. With his arms wrapped around the girth of the tree his hands are efficiently retied and he glances back at Wildflower.

No words need to be spoken between the powerful chief and the squaw, her love for the scout apparent, “Now, Wildflower, you will whip the white man!” A gasp courses through the crowd as the punishment is cruel but justified and the sinners appear terrified.

The warrior hands Wildflower the dastardly looking horsehair whip, positioning her off to the side and slightly behind the trussed lover, she whispers, “I’m sorry…I’ll try not to hurt you…too badly.”

Against the wide tree, Paul braced himself, his palms touching the rough bark and looked over his shoulder. Sherry had picked up a 3 foot long, recently fallen branch, its cluster of deep green tendrils would suffice. Swishing the tips in mid-air, Sherry flicked her dainty wrist…Snap! And subtle changes occurred within the siblings.

A surge of power raced through the naked Sherry, muscles tightening as the pretend whip lashes against his exposed back. A feeling of submission enters the naked Paul’s consciousness, skin accepting the pretend whipping. Infused with control, she aims the instrument of torture across his shoulders, back and ass and Sherry experiences a wicked sensation, a tingling between her thighs.

Helplessly, he welcomes the lovely, deserved pain rippling across bare flesh, buttocks tightening, and his penis fully erect. As the excited crowd of Indians witnesses the beating, Allan and Wildflower deliciously play their roles, imaginary welts and stripes appear.

Squirming against the tree, as if he could actually avoid the fierce lashes, pitiful moans escape Paul’s/Allan’s lungs. Sherry’s thrusts quicken, the fetish breathlessly exciting and she flails away, droplets of perspiration drip down her naked back. Fantasy minutes pass, Paul slumps from the ordeal and Wildflower drops the whip, surprised at her arm’s tiredness.

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