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Erotica | Cheating | Married | Risky Sex | Public | Lake Sex | Fingering | Oral | Dirty Talk

He Fucked Me While My Husband Fished Just Yards Away — 1

The risk of getting caught made me dripping wet as his best friend used my married body right there on the dark lakeshore.

The night air was heavy and damp over the lake, and it had a strong earthy, muddy, piney odor.

The crickets were loud in the reeds, and the sound of a fish breaking the surface of the water was heard occasionally.

I was standing on the rocky shore in my thin white sundress, which clung to my skin from the damp breeze rolling off the water.

It was a dress that was transparent when wet, and I knew it.

I'd picked it on purpose.

My husband, Tyler, was 20 yards away on the old wooden dock, casting his line over and over, with that serious expression he always had when he was fishing.

He enjoyed this shit—the peace, the strategy, the quiet man time with his buddy.

Memphis was closer to me, tall and broad-shouldered, his flannel shirt rolled up over thick forearms, a half-smoked cigarette glowing between his fingers.

He had been Tyler's fishing companion for years, the one who knew all the secret places on this lake.

Tonight he had brought us to this quiet area, off the main ramps.

Other fishermen were scattered along the shore in both directions, their lanterns like distant fireflies.

Here and there, boats floated on the black water, voices echoing slightly above the waves.

I moved my weight, allowing the hem of my sundress to fall up my thighs, as if I were readjusting my bait.

Memphis glanced over, his eyes lingering on the way the thin material stuck to my full tits, the dark outline of my hard nipples clearly visible.

No bra.

No panties.

Just bare skin underneath, already getting slick from the thrill of being out here like this.

“You okay, Briana?” he whispered, his voice rough with the gravel of years of late nights and whiskey.

I smiled slowly and sweetly, and looked him in the eyes.

“He's so into the fishing, it's like the rest of the world goes away with him.”

Memphis chuckled, and he threw his line with a smooth flick of his wrist.

The reel whirred softly.

"Yeah, that's Ty.

Man could fish through the apocalypse."

He paused, eyes flicking down to where my dress had hiked up again.

“You're so restless tonight, you said.”

I walked closer on the rocky ground, my arm brushing his.

The wind blew up my skirt and exposed my smooth bare cunt for a split second before it was covered up once more.

Memphis's jaw tightened.

I felt powerful, the feeling of knowing I could get a man like him, solid, married to his work, loyal to his friend, to lose focus.

We've been going around in circles about this for months.

The little things at barbecues, the long looks across the garage when Tyler was under a truck, the texts that began innocently and ended filthy after midnight.

Tonight felt different.

The open lakeside, the scattered fishermen, the darkness wrapped around us like a dirty secret.

My heart pounded in my throat as I leaned in, as if I were inspecting his tackle box.

I whispered to him, "I've been thinking about this place all week.

It's so quiet out here, so easy for something to happen without anyone knowing.

His hand was gripping the fishing rod.

"Briana…"

I didn't let him get to the end.

Rather, I knelt beside him as if I were assisting with the bait, my dress trailing all the way up my ass.

My wet cunt lips were touched by the cool night air.

If he looked down, he could see everything in Memphis.

His breathing changed, getting heavier.

Tyler laughed from the dock, saying something about a nibble.

Both of us spoke lightly, our voices were normal, and my hand "accidentally" touched the front of Memphis' jeans.

He was already half hard, thick and promising on my fingers.

The following hour was a tense, slow hour.

We discussed normal shit: work, the shitty economy, how Tyler had been bragging about this new rod for weeks.

Each sentence, however, had an undertone.

Memphis was always close, his body heat radiating into me.

I would bend over and retrieve a dropped weight, showing him my ass and the glistening between my legs.

He'd "help" me, his big hand on my ass, fingers running over the curve of my ass and leg.

Sometimes other fishermen walked along the shore, swinging their lanterns and asking about bites, or greeting them.

Every time they approached me, my pussy was tight with new excitement.

The danger lay heavy and sweet in my belly.

When Tyler had waded out farther onto the dock, his attention had turned to a school of fish he had seen, the air between me and Memphis was ready to snap.

I placed my rod on a flat rock and stepped behind a group of big rocks that provided us with some cover from the main path but left the lake open ahead of us.

Memphis looked on in silence.

I turned to him, back against the cool, rough stone.

I said, "I've been drenched since we arrived here.

“You're watching you cast that line, you know Tyler's right there, but you're thinking about this cunt.”

His eyes darkened.

He put his hands on my hips and pulled up the sundress around my waist in one big move.

"Fuck, Briana.

You really want to do this here?

"Yes."

I bent down and felt his dick bulging in his jeans, it was hard and pulsating.

I want you to use me while the whole lake is listening.

He groaned low and kissed me hard, tongue pushing into my mouth, tasting like smoke and mint.

His hands were all over me, squeezing my tits through the thin dress, pinching my nipples until I gasped into his mouth.

I unbuttoned his belt, pushed his jeans down and wrapped my fingers around his thick, heavy cock.

It was hard, hard, hard, veins were pumping, pre-cum was already on the head.

I stroked him slow and firm, twisting at the top the way I knew men liked, feeling him leak over my knuckles.

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