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“It’s not what I expected,” she says when the little pond comes into view.
It’s small, maybe twice as big as the Quonset, surrounded by tall reeds and cattails.
“I hope it’s not freezing.” She gives an anticipatory shiver.
“Crap. Sorry, Cally. I didn’t think. Do you want to go back to the hut?”
How stupid of me. My bottom half is shaggy, and the doctors told me I run several degrees warmer than regular humans. I didn’t consider that this autumn weather might be too cold for our expedition.
“I’m good.” She shrugs. “I’ll dip in a toe. If it’s too cold, I’ll cheer on my two goodest boys from the sidelines.”
I think anyone else might find what she just said demeaning. She just lumped me in with her dog, and I didn’t even get top billing. Instead, my cock is about to punch its way out of my pants at the joy of hearing her praise. Maybe I’m not as well-adjusted as I thought.
“Come on Tater! Show me your best doggy-paddle!”
Encouraged by her voice, Tater jumps into action and splashes excitedly into the water. Without a backward glance, he paddles to the other side of the pond in pursuit of the humongous pair of dragonflies dive-bombing him.
Cally laughs again. It’s a sound so pure it sends shivers down my spine. As she slips off her shoes, I watch her delicate toes sink into the soft mud at the edge of the water. The sensation must be delightful, a tactile experience I can only imagine.
The mud squelches around my hooves as I wade into the water with a sigh of happiness, feeling the temperature drop as the liquid laps against my shaggy legs.
Although I’ve been here in the past, I’ve never thought it a romantic setting before. But with Cally here, everything takes on a new beauty.
The sunlight dances on the surface of the water, creating the effect of sparkling diamonds on the ripples Tater leaves behind. The scent of the swimming hole fills the air—a combination of wet earth, aquatic plants, and a sweet flower I can’t see but can surely smell.
Cally’s squatting at the water’s edge with a carefree smile across her face, the mushrooms in a pile at her side. This is certainly a different, more relaxed, side of her than I’ve witnessed before. I could get used to lazing the day away with her like this.
Her laughter breaks through the serenity as she skips a rock across the surface of the water.
“What sorcery is this?” I wade back toward her. “How did you do that?”
“Rock skipping? It takes a deft hand. Frankly, I’m not sure you can do it.”
For a moment, I want to rise to her joking challenge. Just as quickly, though, the fun mood disappears as the heat between us flares red-hot. Our blazing eye contact makes me forget the rock skipping for long moments as my gaze arrows to her luscious lips.
I could splash toward her, pull her into my embrace, and kiss her senseless, reenacting what we shared last night. Instead, I make the reasonable choice and demand, “Teach me!”
It’s all I can do to pay attention to her as she patiently shows me the proper technique to rock-skipping: from how to hold it, to how to snap your wrist on the release.
Although she’s a terrific teacher, I can’t concentrate for more than a few words at a time because my cock is pulsing, insisting I focus on it and not her. I try to pay attention to her tutorial, but all I can think of is that I could rip off her clothes and sheath myself inside her in five seconds flat if she’d allow me.
“And that, my friend, is how you can make a hippopotamus fly.” She flashes me a wide smile.
“Wh-what?”
“You didn’t like my tutorial about flying hippos? You were paying such close attention, I thought you were enraptured.”
“Ah. You’re teasing. You noticed that my mind wandered.” If the expression on her face was different, I’d assume she was mad at me—she has every right—but she’s smiling at me indulgently.
She holds a hand out, palm toward me, and says, “I don’t even want to know what you were thinking about. You don’t need to tell me…” her voice lowers as she adds, “because I already know.”
Although the water is murky and she can’t see below the surface, which comes up to my waist, she points in the direction of my cock and gives an exaggerated smirk.
“Mind reader,” I grumble, then flash her a smile.
Tater Tot, submerged to his neck, is paddling in unadulterated bliss. The droplets cascading down his black-and-white speckled fur are glinting in the sunlight. With every stroke, he exudes pure ecstasy.
I’m glad I didn’t turn this fun moment into something sexual, although my rut is insistently arguing to the contrary. Even though Cally could be ripped away from me at a moment’s notice and thrown into the brig, there’s this crazy, optimistic part of me that wants something more than sex with her.
