Chapter 2: The Lake's Edge
The click of the belt buckle seemed to hang in the air, a tiny metal punctuation in the vast, dark quiet of the lakeshore. Pete’s fingers worked the button of his jeans, then the zipper, the sound a slow, deliberate rasp. He pushed them down his hips, stepping out of the pooled denim, followed by his boxers.And there he was.
Moonlight, silver and cold, washed over him. It caught the hard planes of his stomach, the dense thatch of hair, and the heavy, full weight of his cock, resting against his thigh. It was thick, as she’d imagined from the outline in his jeans, but the reality of it was different.Softer.The foreskin was a drawn-up hood, smooth and loose, covering the head. It made him look untouched and ancient at the same time.Darla’s mouth went dry. She felt Tom’s breath against her hair, his arms solid around her middle.
“Go ahead, baby,” Tom whispered, his voice thick.“Touch him.”
Her legs felt disconnected. She took one shaky step forward, then another, until she was standing right in front of Pete. He was so much taller up close. She could feel the heat coming off his skin, smell the clean sweat and woodsmoke from the fire. He was perfectly still, letting her look, letting this moment belong to her.She reached out, her hand trembling. The back of her fingers brushed the hair on his lower belly, a gentle scratch.Then lower. Her fingertips grazed the top of his shaft.The skin there was astonishingly soft, like heated velvet. She let her fingers trail down, following the thick vein on the underside, until she was cupping the full, pendulous weight of him.He was heavy.Warm.Alive in her hand.
A low, rough sound escaped Pete’s throat.Not a word, just a hum of permission.
Encouraged, she let her thumb sweep up, over the plush gather of foreskin. She explored the loose fold, the way it slid over what was beneath. It was intimate in a way she’d never experienced, this secret layer. She gently rolled it back, revealing the smooth, dark head, slick with moisture.It glistened in the moonlight.
“Jesus,” Pete breathed, his hands flexing at his sides.“You can use your mouth,” Tom said from behind her. His voice was close, right at her ear.“If you want to.”
She did want to. The hunger was a physical ache, a hollow need that had opened up inside her. She sank to her knees in the cool, damp sand at the water’s edge. The lake lapped gently at her calves, soaking through her leggings, but she didn’t care.From this angle, he looked even bigger. Monumental.She leaned in, her heart pounding in her ears. She pressed her lips to the soft skin of his inner thigh, a kiss. Then she let her tongue trace a path up the length of his shaft, tasting salt and skin. She took him into her mouth slowly, just the head, her tongue exploring the smooth ridge, the slit.
Pete’s hand came down, not to push, but to rest gently on the crown of her head.A benediction.
She took him deeper, working her mouth down as far as she could, feeling the stretch of her lips, the incredible fullness.Her nose pressed into his coarse hair. She pulled back, her tongue finding the sheltered space under his foreskin, lapping at the sensitive skin there. He jerked slightly, a sharp intake of breath above her.
“Yeah,” Tom murmured, his hands now in her hair, not guiding, just feeling.“Just like that. Take your time.”
She lost herself in the rhythm of it, in the textures. The silken slide of the skin, the hard pressure beneath. The sounds Pete made—grunts, sighs, the choked way he said her name, “Darla…”—fueled her.This was for her.Her exploration. Her pleasure in giving pleasure.She came up for air, breathing heavily, a string of saliva connecting her lip to him. She looked up.Pete’s face was strained, eyes closed, head tipped back to the stars. Tom was watching her, his eyes dark and wide with awe, one hand still tangled in her hair.“Stand up,” Tom said softly.She did, her knees weak. Pete’s eyes opened, finding hers.The hunger in them mirrored her own. Tom’s hands were on her sweater, pulling it up and over her head. The night air was cold on her skin, raising goosebumps.He unhooked her bra, let it fall away. His palms covered her breasts, his thumbs brushing her nipples.She arched into his touch.
Pete watched, his chest rising and falling fast.Then he closed the small distance between them. He didn’t touch her breasts, not yet.He leaned down and kissed her, deep and searching, his tongue claiming her mouth. She could taste herself on him. His hands settled on her hips, big and warm, pulling her against the hard line of his body.Tom’s lips were on her shoulder, her neck. His hands slid down her stomach, hooked into the waistband of her soaked leggings and underwear, pushing them down.They fell to her ankles. She was naked between them, surrounded by their heat, the cold lake at her back.“Turn around,” Tom whispered, his voice rough.
She turned, facing her husband. Pete pressed close behind her, his rigid length nestled in the cleft of her ass.Tom kissed her, his hands cradling her face. Then his gaze shifted over her shoulder, locking with Pete’s.Tom gave a single, slow nod.
Pete’s hands gripped her hips. He nudged against her, the blunt head of his cock finding her entrance, slick from her own arousal and the attention of her mouth. He pressed forward, an inexorable, stretching invasion.She gasped into Tom’s mouth.It was a lot. More than she’d ever taken. A burn that blurred into a deep, shocking fullness as he pushed deeper, until he was fully seated inside her.She cried out, a short, sharp sound swallowed by the night.
“You okay?” Pete’s voice was gritted gravel against her ear, his body a solid wall of heat at her back.
She nodded, unable to speak, overwhelmed by the sensation of being so completely filled.
Tom watched her face, his eyes soft, his thumb wiping a tear she didn’t know had escaped.“Good?” he asked.
“So good,” she managed, the words a breath.Pete began to move.Slow, deep pulls that made her see stars. Each thrust pushed her against Tom, who held her steady, his own erection pressing against her belly. The rhythm built, Pete’s hips slapping against hers, the sound raw and obscene over the quiet lap of the water. She was suspended between them, taken by one, held by the other, a conduit for this shared, desperate energy.
She came suddenly, a wave that broke with no warning, shuddering through her so violently she would have collapsed if Tom hadn’t been holding her up.