A Keeper

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My girlfriend Jean and I were sitting in front of the expansive picture window in my Grandmother’s living room. The house was set back about 150 yards from a big lake and the view of the shore was framed by the trees of the north woods. My Grandmother went to the hall closet and returned with a pair of binoculars. We took turns looking through them, out this portal to nature. Our attention was directed to one of these trees near the shore in which a pair of bald eagles were nesting. We watched as one of the parents returned to the nest with food. It was fascinating you the parents cared for their young.

As the sun crept higher in the sky, the day warmed and it became obvious it would be another beautiful Minnesota day. I looked at Jean and asked , “Would you like to go out on the water? Maybe do some fishing?”

“Sure, I’ll just go change into something better for boating.”

She went into her bedroom and I put the binoculars away in the hall closet. Back in the living room I saw she was dressed in a white tank top, floral patterned skirt and sandals, not too different from the khaki shorts and University of Minnesota tee shirt and boat shoes I was sporting. We went out of the house and the dew, still wet in the grass was getting Jean’s feet wet. I bent down and she hopped up on my back for a piggy-back ride to the pier. I walked down the slope to the shore and put her set her down on the first planks of the long pier.

I ducked into the boat house and emerged with a tackle box, some floating seat cushions and two oars. Then I lead the way down the pier to the boat, our footsteps echoed off the water beneath them and a loon splashed is way out of the water and into the air about 300 yard to their right. The pier went past many of the reeds that were in the shallow water near the shore. The insects hummed loudly and we saw many dragonflies waltzing in the air. At the end of the pier were two boats. One, a large pontoon boat that was my Grandmother’s, was very comfortable. The other, a small wooden row boat, was the one I planned to use. Only about 12 ft long, it was easy to handle alone. First I tossed in the seat cushions, two by the bow and one on the back bench where I figured Jean would sit. Then I put the tackle box behind the middle seat and finally put the oars in the oar locks. Standing up, I turned and held Jean’s hand and helped her down into the the boat. After untying the stern line and the bow line, I stepped down into the center of the boat. It rocked gently under my weight, but I was accustom to its motions and easily sat down. Gently I shoved the boat off the pier and started rowing.

I faced the back of the boat as I rowed and could see the pier grow smaller as the boat made progress out onto the lake. More importantly, I could watch Jean from this position. The sun shone down on her long dark hair and the eyes sparkled in its light. Her smile beamed back at me as she became conscious of my looks. I stoked the oars to my own rhythm and whistled a little chantey, the sun heating my shirt and a sweat started to build up on my lean arms. Jean’s skin began to glow too in the heat anadolu yakası escort of the sun. I loved the little row boat. It was easy to maneuver, it was great exercise and much more intimate than the large pontoon boat. After about 20 minutes I had rowed the boat out past all the reeds to an area that I liked to fish. The lake bed was transitioning from sand to larger rocks with a short weeds near the bottom. It was a good place to fish for perch.

I stopped rowing and Jean asked, “Say, were are the fishing poles?”

“I didn’t bring any fishing poles. I figured we could drop line fish.”

“Hm, I have never drop line fished before.”

“Oh. Don’t worry. It is really easy,” said I as I opened the tackle box and removed a drop line from the bottom.

The drop line consisted of a hook, a short leader, and about 25ft of black braided fishing line. I put a small purple plastic worm on the hook and handed it to Jean.

“Just lower the line out until it hits the bottom and then raise it up about 8 inches,” I explained. “Then just hold the line over your index finger and wait.”

“Okay,” she said trying to hide her skepticism. After quickly baiting my own hook, I set my drop line in the same fashion as I described to Jean.

It was a wonderfully warm and lazy day. You could hear the buzz of the insects in the reeds, now 200 feet away and the sound of several ducks landing further out on the lake. The were alone with nature. No other boats were visible and only a few housed could be seen from where they were.

I casually asked, “What would you do if you won ten millions dollars.”

“Oh,” she said excitedly, looking at her hand.

“I don’t really have ten million dollars to give you.”

“NO! My finger, something tugged at my finger,” she exclaimed.

“Ah, just stay calm and wait a minute. You’ll know when you have him.”

Jean sat excitedly waiting for more to happen. She could feel the fish nibbling on the bait, testing it, as clearly as if the fish were nibbling at her finger.

“He took bit it!” she yelled when the fish finally took the hook.

“Just give a little tug or jerk to set the hook and then you can just pull him in.”

As she pulled in the drop line, I looked over the boat to watch for the fish. Splash, the perch jumped clear of the water, struggling to free itself from the hook. I reached forward with my left and and grabbed the line just above the fish. My right hand grasped the fish near the gills and then slid down ever his body to safely press down the spines in his dorsal fin. I let go of the line with my left hand, reached into the tackle box and a small hemostat. Carefully, I clamped onto the shank of the hook and twisted it out of the perches mouth.

“Looks like you caught yourself a keeper,” I said to Jean. “It is easily ten inches long. Should I string it up?”

She thought for a minute and the said, “No, toss him back, we can catch him when he is even bigger.”

The perch splashed back into the lake as was gone. Jean tried to watch him for a moment, and then ataşehir escort gazed up at the clear blue sky. I watched as she tried to lay back and soak up the sun. Then she sat up and smiled at me. I could tell she was still excited by the catch. She stood up and stepped toward me. Her shifting weight tipped the boat to port and she fell forward catching herself with her left hand on the gunwale. Her face was no directly above mine, eclipsing the sun. Her long brown hair draped around my face, creating our own private jungle. For a moment she looked into my eyes and I thought we would kiss.

“I am going to get some sun,” she whispered, putting her right finger on my lips. She stood up and this time, carefully stepped over the seat I was sitting on to the seat at the bow. She arranged the two cushions and then in one fluid motion raised her arms over her head, taking with them her white tank top. Sitting down on the cushions she was able to lay back into the V of the bow, her right arm hanging over the side, her fingers barely touching the water. The sunlight reflected off the water and danced in her hair that draped over the bow.

I watch as the sun warmed her body, I could feel its heat on my back. Her skin glisten. A small droplet of sweat formed at the based of her neck and then trickled down her chest, between her breasts to stop in her navel. My eyes followed its path and the trail of moister it left. Jean shifted and stretched her long legs out to rest her feet on the seat beside me. She looked so content, on this serene day. My eyes wandered from her feet beside me along her shapely calves and up her thighs to the edge of her skirt. It was pulled up to allow more sun to touch her skin, yet it still cast a shadow where my eyes wanted to go.

I eased my feet out of my boat shoes wiggling my toes in the sun. Carefully I raised my right foot and placed it on the edge of her seat. As I ease my toes forward, I thought I could see a smile creep across Jean’s quite face. As my big toe pushed forward, it could feel the warmth it was looking for. Moist flesh hugged it as it pressed lightly down and moved up and down. Jean’s mouth was now open and low gasp escaped into the air. Her cheeks were turning pink in the sunlight. I dropped my line and concentrated on my toe and the heat that enveloped it. Her juices drizzled down the bottom of my foot to my heal. Jean opened her eyes and contemplated me.

She pulled her legs off the seat and stood up. Reaching down with her left hand she unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts while her right hand undid the tie at the side of her skirt. She knelt in the keel of the boat and grasped my shorts; I raised my butt as she pulled my shorts and underwear down to my ankles. My manhood stood up at attention, craving hers. She lightly licked the soft underside starting by its base and gliding her tongue up to its tip. She stood up again. My arms reached around to cup her back and pulled her stomach to my lips as her arms wrapped around my neck. I kissed her navel and my tongue searched for the bead of sweat I had seen hide there just minutes ümraniye escort before. Then my hands parted and slid lightly over her buns, feeling their velvetly skin. Down my hands went to stop at the backs of her thighs. Then I pulled her up and to me in the seat. Slowly, I lowered her, her legs now pointing to the stern of the boat. I pulled her against my chest and abdomin and looked up into her deep green eyes, her hair again cascaded down around my head, hiding us from the outer world. I lowered her another inch and the head of my throbbing penis just touched its promise land. Warmth flowed down to it, enticing it to enter. Another inch lower so that its head was nuzzling in the soft wet furrow between Jean’s legs. In the warmth of the sun our sweat was mingling; my aching penis was becoming soaked.

Finally I eased Jean all the way down and relaxed as the boat rocked slightly in the water. Jean hummed with pleasure in my ear. I could feel all of her warmth surrounding me. I moved my hands to the small of her back and supported her against me. We held that position of union for what seemed like an eternity. The only motion by our bodies was unconscious as they responded to the motion of the rocking boat and responded to each other’s reactions. Then our lips met and we kissed the deep kiss of long desired passion. Our tongues explored as our lips press together searching for more.

I eased forward onto my knees and placed Jean on the bow seat again. I carefully pulled back and then turned her over onto her stomach, placing her arms on the gunwales with her hands at the point of the bow. My hands grabbed her hips and I entered her from behind. Sliding forward and down, my right hand passed over her stomach and the into her forest of hair. Trekking deeper, it cleared the forested and came to the moist valley, its fingers exploring its recesses. As our weight transferred forward, my lips and tongue traced the arch of her back to her neck and the boat began to pitch, fore and aft. It moved with our rhythm urging us forward to bliss. My fingers traced the edge of Jean’s pleasure. Bathed in her slippery juices, they glided over its top and around its protective hood of skin. The motion of the boat increased in intensity as did our excitement. Fore and aft the boat rocked, you could hear the stern suck up out of the water as I thrust forward and it slap back down as I pulled back. Jean’s excitement was intensifying to an uncontrollable state. She moaned with each of our movements, accentuated by the motion of the little boat. As I climaxed, Jean let out a low scream and I could feel her muscles contracting, squeezing me deeper, in the same cadence as my orgasm.

Exhausted, we slumped down into the boat and held one another. The air now feeling cool on our hot, sweaty bodies. In the distance we could hear a boat engine, so we carefully put on our clothes and I rowed back to my Grandmother’s pier.

Carefully, I tied the boat the to pier and helped Jean up onto the dock. I gave her a piggy back ride to the house and once inside, she excused herself to go to the bathroom. I went to the kitchen to get us something to drink and saw my Grandmother sitting in the living room.

“Looks like you caught yourself a keeper,” she said me.

“Oh yeah, Jean caught a nice perch, but we thru it back”

“I wasn’t talking about the fish,” Grandma said smiling and then I saw the binoculars sitting next to her chair.

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