Forbidden Frenzy by the Lake

My name is Lucas, and I’m 19 years old. This summer, something unbelievable went down at the lake house my family rents every year. I’m a shy guy, always have been, and up until this summer, I’d never so much as kissed a girl. I’m not hideous or anything, but I’m no movie star either – just a lanky dude with messy brown hair who gets tongue-tied around anyone I’m into. I’m tall, but my body’s more “string bean” than “jacked.” I don’t exactly turn heads, and I spend way too much time alone, lost in my own fantasies.

This summer, those fantasies had a muse: my neighbor from the cabin next door, Margaret. I know, I know – sounds wild, right? She’s in her early 50s, married, with two daughters. One’s my age, drop-dead gorgeous, but always off with her friends, so I barely catch a glimpse of her. The other’s younger, still in middle school. Margaret’s not what you’d call a knockout – short, with a pixie cut, a plain face, and a soft, curvy body that’s more cozy than glamorous. But there’s something about her chest that drives me absolutely insane – full, heavy, and impossible to ignore.

Every afternoon, when my parents were out fishing or running errands, I’d lock myself in my room, strip down, and watch her from behind the curtains. She’d be out on her deck, sweeping or watering plants, wearing this loose tank top that’d slip down her shoulders, giving me a teasing view of her cleavage. When she bent over to pick something up, it was like the world stopped – her curves practically spilled out, and I’d be glued to the window, heart pounding, barely able to breathe. I’d keep the curtains cracked just enough to stay hidden, and that sight alone was enough to get me going.

One day, I was in the middle of, well, you know (and no, I’m not some pornstar legend – six inches, maybe, on a good day), thinking I was safe since her husband and daughters had left for town. Suddenly, I saw her walking up to our cabin. I panicked, yanking on my swim trunks and sprinting to the door as she knocked insistently. No time for a shirt, and yeah, my situation was pretty obvious through the thin fabric.Lucas, can I borrow your pruning shears? – she asked, her voice warm, almost playful.

I grabbed the shears from the shed, my face burning like I’d been out in the sun too long. I was a nervous wreck, probably looking like a total idiot.Some of those branches are too high for me. Could you give me a hand? – she said, tilting her head.

I nodded, barely able to form words. As we worked, she kept the conversation going – why didn’t I hang out with the other kids around the lake, was I seeing anyone, that kind of thing. Then she handed me a cold soda, saying I looked parched. It was one of those sweltering days where the air felt like a wet blanket, and sweat was unavoidable. The soda went down easy, and she offered another. Two drinks in, my head was buzzing just enough to loosen me up. She’d tugged her tank top straps back into place, but being so close to her – smelling her faint floral perfume, seeing the way her top clung to her curves – kept me on edge. My trunks weren’t hiding much, and I swear she stole a glance or two. Sometimes, she’d brush against me while reaching for a branch, her breast grazing my arm, sending a jolt through my whole body.

When we finished, she invited me inside for a glass of lemonade. I wasn’t sure I wanted to, but my feet followed her anyway. Sitting on her couch, I noticed my trunks were damp – not just from the heat. My nerves went into overdrive. Margaret sat close, her thigh almost touching mine, and I caught her eyes flicker downward.It’s brutal out there, isn’t it? Feel me – I’m soaked too… – she said, her voice low.

Before I could process, she took my hand and guided it to her inner thigh, nudging her shorts aside. She was warm, slick, and undeniably aroused. A mischievous grin spread across her face.You think I don’t notice? You’ve been hard as a rock out there, and it’s got me all worked up. I know what you’ve been doing in your room, Lucas, but having you this close? That’s a whole different kind of heat.

I froze, mortified that she knew about my private moments, but before I could stammer an excuse, her lips crashed into mine. Her kiss was hungry, urgent, her tongue teasing mine as she grabbed me through my trunks, her fingers firm and confident. The sodas gave me just enough courage to kiss her back, my hands fumbling to her chest, squeezing the soft weight of her breasts through her top. We were a tangle of heat and need, breathing hard, hands roaming without restraint.

Her fingers slipped inside my trunks, wrapping around me with a slow, deliberate stroke that made me groan into her mouth. I tugged her tank top down, freeing her breasts – they were heavy, slightly sagging, with wide, dusky-pink areolas and nipples that stiffened under my touch. I couldn’t resist; I lowered my head, taking one into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the sensitive peak. Her moans were loud, her hands gripping my hair, urging me to keep going. “God, Lucas, you’re so good at that,” she gasped, her voice thick with pleasure.