Then, I reached down to her cut-off shorts, unbuttoned the top button, unzipped her zipper, and stuck my hand inside her panties. When my fingers slid past her mound, I was surprised to find it smooth. I could feel that her only pubic hair was the tiny stubble that I guessed was the result of the seven days at Cloud Peak. I kept going, and when I found her spot, she let out a low moan. At the same moment, I heard Coral’s soft groans coming from the other tent 100 feet away and a little closer to the lake. The groans echoed across the still waters. Without removing Alison’s shorts or her panties, I first very gently ran my index and middle fingers the length of her slick lips. Then, I began to trace a line up one side of her labia, and then down the other. After I had made a half dozen circles around her wetness, I entered her with just the tip of my middle finger between her slippery lips and then slid my finger back and forth, unleashing a flood of arousal from her pussy. Alison. As she did, her breasts jiggled and my cock grew harder. It was obvious she had been to a spa. I wondered if she had gotten her pussy waxed. I imagined holding her legs spread and lowering my mouth onto her smooth, hairless pussy. We stopped to pick up a six pack on the way to her house. Florence opened the front door, took off her red shoes and asked me to come in. I followed her to the kitchen. “Would you like a beer or a glass of wine, Gil?” “Beer, please.” A silence fell between us. We had arrived at the point of no return. Both of us wanted to be naked and fucking. In silence I walked to the front door and picked up her shoes. I slowly walked back to Florence, pulled out a chair and motioned her to sit. I got down on one knee and placed my hand on her calf, held it there for a few seconds and slid my hand slowly to her ankle. Florence froze. Her words echoed in my ears, “…the few men she had dated were more interested in being mothered, than treating her like a woman.
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