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rumbled by on the trestle but I just couldnt care less at that moment. I reached down, cradled my Dougies head in my hands then humped and writhed in a screaming, moaning orgasm just as I noticed the steward! Having a smoke break out on the rear platform of the last coach, he grinned and gave me the thumbs up sign as the train clickety-clacked away!!!
Oh my, it was so good to have the man I married back again.
I sat up, unzipped him and with more than a little difficulty, extracted his wonderfully erect penis through his fly. It was hard, purple and ready for action but Doug looked a little apprehensive. I said told him to relax and promised to be gentle with him as I began to stroke him. He seemed to have a lot more blood coursing through those veins, for his shaft was hot and red and thick.
What to do with him was the quandary, however. I pulled back his foreskin with the fingers of one hand then tickled all over and under his knob to remove any stinky, foul tasting moisture. I licked my lips wet, summoned up a tongue full of spit then smeared my juicy lips down over his corona. I licked quickly like a dog lapping an ice cream cone to neutralize all tastes with my saliva. I tilted my head back a little so his knob slid along the roof of my mouth rather than down the back of my throat.
I called upon my salivary glands once more to slime his penis up good then began my sucking head-bob routine. There was no way I was going to spend ten minutes in a canoe, gagging on a throat full of semen, so I sucked him off clean, pulled his foreskin back up and jerked him mercilessly. My gamble was well timed for his face began to flush. I knew I had to get him off quickly and I was already a mess so I just aimed it down at my pubes and stroked like crazy. I pulled the soaking crotch of my panties aside to give him something to think about and wouldnt you know it, thirty seconds later, he lunged ahead, planted it slightly into my pussy then squirted two great pumps of sperm into me plus a third as he was pulling out!
He tidied my panties up as he pulled out but gave me one more poke to wipe off his last drip then smiled back at me and uttered the magic words, "No pains! There are no pains whatsoever!"
I was so relieved, especially when those deep blue eyes flashed back toward me. "Look at the ducklings behind you babe!" he pointed behind me. I swiveled my head around for a few seconds to have a look and heard his camera click repeatedly as he photographed the dear little things.
Since it was a windless day, on our way back Doug zipped by our complex and headed out
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into a dead calm Lake Ontario. The shimmering green water was amazingly clear, apparently due to the Zebra Muscles. In a bay I suddenly became aware that we were being stalked by, of all things, three-foot long carp fish! The trolling motor made virtually no noise in the water so four or five giant bottom feeders swam along with us for a good mile, breaking the surface occasionally like little dolphins.
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A week later, Doug dragged me out to a slip in front of our unit and introduced me to a bright yellow 14-foot fiberglass runabout boat with a 9.9 Johnson motor at the rear. It had a full front deck, two front bucket seats, a steering wheel, controls and a full-length perfectly flat floor, carpeted with brown tweed Astroturf. Through June and July we followed the shoreline from up as far as Pickering and all the way down to Cobourg.
Between Bond Head and Port Granby we discovered 100-foot high sandy bluffs whose shapes and grandeur took my breath away. On the way back it occurred to me that no houses were built on the unstable bluffs. No boats except ours came closer than a mile from shore and we were completely, utterly alone, except for the flocks of shore birds. Canadas busiest arterial highway and rail lines lay within half a mile of the shoreline but none of those thousands of travelers had any idea of the beauty and tranquility along the lakeshore.
With that in mind, off came my top, my bra, my shorts and my panties as well as Dougs shirt, shorts and briefs. I smeared him with suntan lotion as we bobbed fifty feet offshore. Then he slathered me from head to toe and back again in return.
Suddenly that familiar old expression came across his face. He shuffled back toward the idling outboard motor, adjusted its tiller up to a 45-degree angle and exclaimed, "Laura, Id like to introduce you to Johnson. Hes long, thickly ribbed and obviously all abuzz over meeting you!"
The dirty old bugger squirted sunscreen along the tiller and spread it all over its handgrip. He reached out for my hand and carefully assisted me over to the jiggling black protuberance. He sized up the possibilities then had me steady my right shin against, while planting my left foot on top of the little rear deck. Just like that I felt the tiller jiggle against my crotch. Doug reached under me from behind, tapped the tiller up a little then firmly guided me down onto it!
No need to undulate my hips to ease it in. It just wiggled and jiggled its way into me. Simply flexing my left knee impaled me very nicely upon it. Doug revved the motor up for me to no advantage, but putting it into forward gear at a very low idle made the tiller thrash about violently inside my pussy. That settled, he set our course about 100 feet off shore then stepped up behind me. I felt him squeeze
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