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“At any rate, they were gone for a while. I ended up walking off by myself to take a leak and then spotted them on my way back. They hadn’t actually gone that far, maybe fifty feet away from the fire.”
“You little pervert,” Trixie teased, as she began taking off Cy’s life jacket for him.
“It wasn’t like that! At least not at first. But yes, I did end up watching them.”
“So did young Cyril have his hands full at the time?” Trixie asked, thinking she could tell where this story was going.
Cy reddened and looked away, staring off into the trees.
“He might have.”
Trixie tossed his floating vest in the kayak.
“Let me guess. You came when she did?”
Cy’s eyes went wide. “Aren’t you supposed to ask permission before reading somebody's mind?”
“Trust me, reading your mind was unnecessary for this part of the story. So this freckled-faced girl, she wouldn’t happen to be a ginger would she?”
Trixie already knew the answer. Cy was stunned by the insight.
“How did you know? Were you guessing?”
“No, but would it matter if it was? I like knowing what you want, especially when it’s me. If you ever see that girl again, pass along my thanks.”
Trixie reached down into Cy’s shorts and grabbed his member, only to find him in a stiffened curve. That’s was something else she liked. Cy was always ready for her before she laid hands on him. She pushed down his shorts and began to lightly stroke his prick.
“Is this how you handled yourself while watching them?”
Trixie gripped him harder moving the skin around his erection with her hand as she jerked him.
“Or was it more aggressive, like this?”
Cy hardened with her assertive approach, the head of his cock filling with blood. She bent over to suck on him briefly before standing up again.
“Now the real question is... what were they doing?”
Trixie understood now. This was all an adolescent fantasy finally being realized for him, but with her help. She was more than happy to portray the freckle-faced vixen.
“Not here. Up there,” he said, gesturing with his head.
Cy tucked himself back into his shorts, took her by the hand, and guided them off the pebble beach. The island was small, so they weren’t going far. Cy held aside bushes for Trixie as they climbed the rocky embankment. They reached a broad clearing in moments. There was a well-used fire pit surrounded by rocks in the center. A popular spot for teenagers no doubt. That’s what Cy was now, a teenager, running through a scenario that he had been playing out in his mind for years.
He brought them to a spot maybe fifty feet away from the fire pit, fell to his knees in front of Trixie, and sat back on his heels. She was prepared to do whatever he wanted. Cy wasn’t speaking, but that didn’t matter in a moment after a moment. He pushed Trixie’s shirt up and kissed her belly, exactly as she imagined him doing earlier.
“Now you’re reading my mind,” she said to him. “What can I do for you?”
“Be yourself for me.”
That surprised her. She had expected that Cy wanted to enact precisely what he witnessed that day. Trixie suspected this was merely his way of saying that he was more interested in her than his fantasy, or maybe he was bashful about asking for what he really wanted. If that was the case, Trixie would have none of it. Cy had brought her here on purpose. She was piqued by the memory privately playing out in his thoughts.
“You’re not getting off that easily. Tell me, what did that ginger-haired tart do that got you so riled up?”
“Well, it wasn’t what she did, so much as how she did it.”
“And how was that?”
“Hungrily.”
