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Joely’s Swim featuring sensational Maxine

‘I’ve seen a man’s cock before,’ – Joely

He didn’t return to the lake till Monday, a beautifully warm sunny day with a mild south-westerly wind, perfect for swimming. Alone, he plunged into the ice-cold water, crawling as far as the mass of tangled brambles, lichen-petrified trees, bushes covering the far bank. Treading water, he swivelled his body, breast-stroking back to the solitary bank where he left his clothes then heard a foreign voice.

‘Hi, I’m Joely. Mind if I swim here, too?’

She spoke in a deep southern drawl: Alabama, Louisiana, Mississippi? And had the most achingly beautiful face he had ever seen, clear blue eyes, a sexy snub nose, pursed fleshy cherry lips, surrounded with shade-upon-shade of fiery red hair: copper, chestnut, ginger, amber, flirty waves, delightful oaken ringlets. Her skin was as pale as clotted cream. His perfect redhead. He worried she might burn in the fierce afternoon sun. Still, he said yes.

She dropped her bag on the ground, stripping off her ash grey t-shirt, running shoes, and tracksuit bottoms, revealing her striking magenta basque. Standing, hands-on-hips, her pretty head cocked to one side, she watched him tread water with his muscular legs.

Joely stooped and splashed her face and chest with water, it was freezing cold, it felt great.

‘I think I should swim now, don’t you?’ she said fancying him – madly, ‘Before I catch cold?’

There was a sunken bench, relic of long-lost summer picnic outings, before the crater was created by an enemy bomber shedding its payload after a midnight raid, then it flooded, forming a natural lake. He swam over and stood up on it. The water came up to his waist. He flexed his biceps, triceps, pecs, and abs in a valiant one-on-one attempt to impress her.

My Darcy, Joely imagined, flushing, only hotter.

She crouched on the bankside preparing to dive. He admired her perfect musculature, her poise, strength. Suspecting, she worked out in a private gym to keep herself slim and fit. Suspecting, Joely could hold her pose, control her breathing, hold her body rigid for him. She was within his grasp, touching distance. He thrust his pelvis at her needing her sex. A crude smile creased her face as she sized the big eel dangling between her man’s legs.

His face coloured, flame-red, ‘Sorry, forgot my trunks.’

‘That’s okay,’ she smiled, ‘I’ve seen a man’s cock before.’

I bet you have, he dreamed, ‘I’m Simon, by the way.’

‘Good to meet you, Simon. Let’s swim, shall we?’

Joely dived into his life headfirst, powering off across the lake face down in the water, her strong arms cutting through the chill, throwing her head back every few strokes, sucking at the tepid air.

Admiring her from afar, Simon turned in the water, following her, calm, preoccupied with her. Joely’s body was well-toned, perfectly proportioned. He imagined her torso dripping, clinging, to him.

Men, particularly lean, mean, charming men with huge cocks were hard to find in a rural setting. Joely took him into her own hands, swimming, at least, fifty lengths past two disinterested geese, exhausting herself, heading back to the bank. The water was deeper than her there. An orange lifebelt hung suspended over her head next to a sun-blanched sign which read:


With immense effort, she grasped the side and heaved herself out, falling flat on her front in the grass. Laughing, dripping wet, her pale skin coated in goosebumps, Joely hauled herself out, and tugged a beach towel out of her jute bag.

He was swimming towards her. She dabbed the sun’s glare out of her eyes. He watched her avidly as she pulled down her black see-thru lace basque exposing her bare creamy breasts, her ripe cherry nipples, their erect teats: her subtle invitation to him, ‘Come and fuck me, Simon.’ She wriggled out of her basque, shewing him her bald, hairless cunt, letting the wet lace slither down her legs. Joely stretched her arms, raising her full fat pale breasts, her stiff dark cocoa teats, her intimate tattoo.

He clambered out of the water, embarrassed, reddening, looking away, drying himself as best he could. Other than the fine hair on his forearms, a line of fluff running down his belly, his body was bare skin solid muscle. He shivered. All the veins jutted out of his biceps.

Joely encouraged him, ‘No need to be shy. You’ve got a lovely body.’

‘It’s been so long since I fucked a beautiful woman like you, Joely.’

‘Know how you feel,’ she sighed, ‘this recession’s been tough for all of us. Look at me, Simon.’

She was wearing a single pearl choker. He watched Joely cup her breasts, crane her head, lick her nipples. She held herself open for him, exposing her raw steak flesh, her love-hole, handing him her towel, murmuring seductively, ‘Dry my breasts and cunt.’

He dried her roughly: tousling her red hair, rubbing her damp torso: kneading her breasts, feeling between her legs as he dabbed at her wet cleft.

Joely whispered longingly, ‘Let me hold you.’

She held his cock tenderly in her soft hands. They kissed and embraced. They lay on her towel, he beneath her, Jolie facing the other way, reverse cowgirl. She mounted her stud, sliding the full nine inches of his rigid, throbbing, straining cock fully inside her slick fuck-hole, impaling herself on his stretched-out shaft, rolling back his tight foreskin so that she could clench his pulsing nub, the dribbling slit with her birth muscle. Joely reclined, pressing her fleshy buttocks into her man’s underbelly, grinding the spurting semen out of his swollen sac, his slimy nub, as he fondled her heaving breasts, Joely: rising beautifully, ascending his sexual phoenix, high into blissful orgasm.

‘That feels fucking lovely,’ she screamed, ‘Fill my cunt with spurting cum.’

‘That feels fucking lovely,’ she screamed, ‘fill my cunt with spurting cum, seed me, fuck my cunt, no, no, want to squirt, going to squirt, let me squirt in your mouth, baby!’

She dismounted him, letting her man’s spurting cock squirt his thickest semen all over her arse, screaming, squirting her warm girlie jus over his belly, turning, floppy, splaying her cunt over his craving mouth, filling his mouth with her intimate body fluid, her salty, creaming, lathering, mess.

After they’d fucked, Joely and Simon washed each other’s bodies standing in the shallows, only a bar of coal tar soap between them, kissing-some-more, Simon loving the sensation of scrubbing Joely’s breasts, Joely thrilling insides as she scrubbed her intimate residue off her man’s cock and balls. They climbed up onto the bank, lay naked on their towels, and let their bodies dry naturally in the heat of the high noon sun. Simon noticed a red blush spreading over his woman’s buttocks as she lay on her front, happily kicking her legs.

‘You’re burning, Joely,’ he said, ‘I think we should get dressed, don’t you?

She rubbed her sore buttocks with the palm of her hand, Simon’s heart leaped into his mouth. She was so sensual, every time she moved his heart skipped a beat. He felt his cock twitch and pulse.

‘Think we should,’ she said in her sultry sensuous southern drawl, ‘Time I left for home, Simon.’

He donned his white t-shirt, tight black running shorts and trainers. She dressed in her ash grey t-shirt, running shoes and tracksuit bottoms. He escorted Joely to the main footpath, past a freshly excavated ditch bordered with piles of stricken branches, hawthorn in bridal blossom. Joely told him she was single, unemployed, barely surviving on furlough, seeking excitement. She stared at the olive water in the ditch, a messy vinaigrette leading nowhere, like her life, and asked if she could fuck him again one day by the lake.

He smiled at her lovingly, ‘If you want to.’

‘I do want to.’

They exchanged numbers as they reached the three red fir trees where the path diverged: left for the church, right for the village. There was a crude wooden footbridge, planks bridging a muddy stream, steps leading to the school. They listened to the sound of children playing. Joely let go of his hand, kissed him on the lips, and stared him in the face. He felt guilty. He hadn’t told her he loved her after they had made love. And he did love Joely, with an intensity that pained his heart.

‘This is me I’m afraid, can’t help myself,’ she said, tears of love welling in her eyes, ‘This is me!’

Simon gripped her arm, ‘No, I love you. I’ve a cottage in the village, an open hearth fire, a comfy rug. Will you come with me?’

Won’t be needing a fire to stoke my passion, she mused. She kissed him, embraced him, Joely smiled and said, ‘I will come with you. A comfy rug, an English country cottage, a well-hung stud like you. How can I refuse! Won’t be needing a fire to stoke my passion tho’ Simon, I’m too hot.’

‘Never was a truer word spoke in love,’ he said trying to sound romantic, ‘Do you love me, Joely?’

She blushed, and held his hand, ‘Might do! I’ll let you know tonight…’


There were no coals in the hearth. Warm evening sunlight streamed in through the leaded glass windows. Joely strode naked, into the living room. Simon was lying on his back, straining for her, his rigid penis stretched with unbearable torsion, testes swollen, riding up his taut shaft: climbers. She was dripping, wet, lubricious, aroused, her breasts and buttocks were rose with a sexual blush.

‘Want you, baby,’ she said.

‘Want you, too, Joely.’

He stretched his legs, opened his arms, and beckoned her to join him on the rug. She stood over his midriff, staring at the huge cock awaiting her, then sank at the knees, straddling him, feeding his rigid, throbbing, pulsing girth, deep, inside her. Joely fucked him, wildly, insanely, sliding up, down, his erect cock, lubricating him with her secretion, her intimate, for-my-man-only girlie jus.

‘Oh, feels, lovely,’ she slapped her buttocks, slapped herself raw, riding her stud like the bucking bronco at the ranch back home, her sweaty blushing breasts flopping, banging on his barrel chest. Spurting precum, close to his most wonderful ejaculation into her, he held her tightly at the waist, and lifted her up, pulling out, bearing her body weight with his strong arm, delving his eager fingers deep inside her runny cunt. He fucked her with his fingers, she screamed obscenities, ‘Oh, fuck my cunt, put your fucking fingers in my cunt, won’t you?!’

He slid his hand deftly, in and out, of her splayed wet cleft. She came ferocious, squirting, dripping with girlie jus, pissing freely on him, slid him inside her, fucking him senseless, sucking him dry, in her orgasmic frenzy on the cosy fireside rug. She came again, wildfire, shooting flames, burning passion, unbridled love, crying hard, tears of love, streaming down her cheeks, over his taut face….

She slid him inside her, fucking him senseless.

What do you think?


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