On Orgasm Pond


Caution: This Erotic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Mult, Consensual, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Fiction, DoOver, Group Sex, Orgy, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Exhibitionism, Double Penetration, Nudism, .

Desc: Erotic Sex Story: A quiet mountain lake is swimming with ecstasy. Patrick, desperate for a much needed vacation, rents a cottage on a private lake in the heart of the Adirondack Mountains. He seeks peace and serenity, what he gets is an erotic orgy filled summer.

Author's Note:

This is a long story. It takes just a wee bit before the good stuff, but, there's lot's of good stuff throughout. I hope you'll enjoy it. Please stick with it until the end. Comments are appreciated. Thanks!

Orgasm Pond is a name I affectionately gave a small Adirondack lake in upstate New York after a summer I had spent there that changed my life. The real name of the lake shall remain nameless.

You know that point when you've given yourself passionately to something for years and all that something does is take, take, take? That point where you, suddenly and forcefully, can't take it anymore.

My life careened toward that breaking point for years. I was blind to it until I reached that breaking point. One day it suddenly hit me like a giant rubber band that snapped in my brain, and the thought of poking a red hot needle in my eye was more appealing than going to work. As a self proclaimed workaholic, I had been working extremely hard for the past ten years on my career. I took precious little time for myself or my wife. My marriage hit the skids a year ago, mostly from my incessant work. I took very little vacation time over the preceding years even though my compensation included five paid vacation weeks a year. I seldom took more than two weeks. When I was on those precious two weeks of vacation, I insidiously brought my laptop along and worked part of that time. That was just part of the corporate culture I was wrapped up in; it was considered weak to use all your allocated vacation.

I was burnt out, and crisp as overcooked bacon. I told my boss that I needed some down time and would not be available by email, text, or phone for the entire months of July and August. He didn't like it much, but I insisted. I really didn't care if he fired me at that point. I was so over done.

I needed to get away. My wife was gone, and I wasn't dating anyone. There was nothing but myself standing in my way of a well deserved hiatus.

In my youth, I loved spending my summers in the Adirondack Mountains. I attended summer camp every year between the ages of eight and fifteen. During my college years, I'd spend a few weeks backpacking in the Adirondacks every summer. So, this was the first place I thought about when I decided I needed to disappear for a while. I was determined to find a place to rent for a few months on a lake in those beautiful mountains.

It was mid June when I started searching the internet for places to rent. I wanted a place on a quiet lake, one that banned motor boats, but one that allowed canoes, kayaks, and small sailboats only. Most every place was already booked for the summer to my surprise. I had no clue how early cottage rentals on lakes booked up for the summer.

I stumbled upon an available listing that caught my eye: "Perfect getaway for those seeking sensual solitude. Loon Cottage is small but beautifully converted boathouse on a private lake. Listen to the loons serenade you to sleep every night. The cottage is available for monthly rentals only." The rental rate was about three times the going monthly rate. I thought that was one reason it must be still available. I didn't care about the price. I needed to get away and all the other desirable places were taken.

I called the number in the listing and a woman answered.

"Hello Becky speaking," said a sweet sounding voice.

"Hi, this is Patrick Hunt, and I'm interested in renting Loon Cottage for the months of July and August. I see it's still available," I said to the sweet voice on the other end.

"It could be available. I need to ask you a few questions first. I interview all perspective renters before I commit to renting the cottage."

I thought this sounded odd so I questioned her policy.

"My husband built the cottage for me with his own hands. He passed away three years ago. I am very fussy about who I rent it to. It's my prerogative. I don't allow kids, and I prefer someone, or a couple, in their thirties to fifties. You must be clean, neat, quiet, and respectful of this special place. You'll fit in better if you're open minded and adventuresome."

"Fit in? Why would I need to fit in? I'm just looking for a place to chill for a while."

"This is a special lake. There is no public access. All properties surrounding the lake are privately owned. We have a tight community here, and we all click. I am the only property owner renting out a place on the lake, much to my neighbors chagrin. Since my husband's salary is no longer coming in, I need the rental income in order to help defer the costs of keeping the cottage. My neighbors are very particular about outsiders on the lake."

"That sounds very elitist," I said.

"I know it does, but those are my terms. Do you want to proceed with the interview?"

I was getting desperate to get something before I got shutout for the season, so I agreed. She asked how old I was, whether I was single or married, what political party I was most aligned with, and how I felt about nudity. The nudity question threw me for a loop, but I let it slide.

"You must submit a health report with a recent screening for sexually transmitted diseases," she added.

"What!" I said astonished.

"Some of my neighbors are single, and they like to play the field. I'm just looking out for their health," she said.

"That's absurd! How do you know I want anything to do with your neighbors?" I said getting a little angry now.

"You said you're single and unattached. My neighbors are hot and persuasive. It would only be a matter of time," she said as if she seen her neighbors devour her renters before.

I thought about the absurdity of it all for a few seconds and then realized I hadn't gotten laid in about six months, and I could use some action. My wife and I split up a year ago. For the first four months, I did nothing but sit around depressed and work, of course. My friends were telling me to get back in the game. It was depressing for them to watch me sulk around they'd tell me. So, for the next two months I tried dating. I got lucky a few times, but lost interest because I was still not over my ex-wife. It's been four months since my last date. At 35 years old, I wasn't getting any younger. It might be time to seize an opportunity if it came up.

"OK, I'll get a blood test and send you the results," I said.

I must have passed the interview and her health test because she rented the cottage to me.

July 1st came and I followed Becky's directions to the cottage. I arrived late in the evening. It was about 8:00 PM, and I was tired from the long drive. Becky greeted me in a silky robe. It was a warm summer night, and she didn't bothered to tie her robe tight. I could see a lot of cleavage and her ample breasts were barely covered. Her robe was short, and I could see her tanned, toned legs were smooth and sexy. Becky looked to be in her late thirties, maybe forty. She showed me the cottage and the dock that it shared with her house and the neighbor to my right. She pointed to the house up the path. That was hers.

"I hope you don't mind seeing people skinny dip? Most of the owners on the lake skinny dip, so you'll see lots of naked people out and about. As I told you on the phone, the lake is private."

"No, no problem," I said.

I crashed in bed as soon as Becky left. I didn't even unpack. I went to sleep to the sound of loons calling across the lake. The loon calls were just as I remembered from my youth, and what a magical, mystical sound they made. I love all the calls a loon makes, but I think the wail call was my favorite. To be lying in bed at night and hearing the wailing of the loons sent shivers down my spine. Oddly, it's both an eerie and comforting sound at the same time.

The next morning was a beautiful bluebird day. I slept in late so I missed the sunrise. I brewed some coffee. I poured a cup and headed out to the dock to sit and enjoy the water. I sat in a chair on the dock next to the water's edge. I closed my eyes and was enjoying the sun on my face when I heard what sounded like someone swimming. I opened my eyes and saw a woman doing the breast stroke. She was approaching the dock, and I could see she was naked. Then I remembered what Becky said last night about skinny dippers.

As the woman climbed out of the lake, I could see it was Becky herself. She smiled at me as she climbed out of the water. Her body came into my view as she ascended the swim ladder just 10 feet from where I was sitting. She had a nice wide smile with pretty teeth. Her blue eyes glistened in the sun. Her light brown hair, with just a hint of red, was wet and shimmering as it lay mat against her shoulders. As her breasts popped into view, I could see they were lovely orbs. I estimated about 34C's. Her nipples were erect due to the cold water. As she climbed the stairs, the rest of her body came into my view. Becky's waist was narrow and her hips full. Her pussy had hair. She was not a shaver of pubic hair, but it was neatly trimmed. Her legs were strong looking, not too skinny and not too plump. I felt aroused as I checked Becky's body out.

"Good morning. You can put your eyes back in your head now," she said with a big grin.

I must have been staring.

"Sorry," I said.

"No need to apologize, you'll get use to seeing nude bodies around here. Like I said, most everyone skinny dips here. You should too. Don't be shy."

.... There is more of this story ...

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