River Fantasy

Village reunion turns steamy, fueled by erotic river sighting.

by Kuntry yute. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

The rain burst out of nowhere, as it usually does. One minute the afternoon was bright and sunny, then the sun just disappeared behind a big dark cloud and the rain cut loose.

No one was in the house but me, with Mama off to see her church sister. The rain was heavy. You could see it in the fat drops and the fast-moving muddy streams that turned the yard into a small riverbed. But the best part for me was the pounding on the zinc roof, as if the rain was playing a whole heap of kettle drums at the same time. The wind picked up at times, lashing the large banana leaves into a crazy dance, like big, awkward hands flapping to the heavy rain drops. I watched and listened, content inside the warm, dry house. It was a good mood, like I could roll with the energy and rhythm and dance to my heart’s content, or get a sheet and curl up in the big couch, to just rest or doze off.

I had something else in mind though, and the first real buzz of anticipation and excitement coursed through my body, leaving me tingling and warming up all over, especially down in my belly bottom and my nipples. The sensation cooled off a bit as I thought about Mama coming home sooner than expected. She had almost caught me once, and I was saved only by the fact that she had left her keys and had to call me to open the door. She had her keys now, and the rain would mask any sound of her approach.

But I wasn’t going to be denied. This moment was too good to waste. The living room had a big window that looked out on the yard and provided a full view of anyone approaching, as long as the curtain was not fully drawn. I could enjoy the comfort of the love seat and keep an eye out for Mama; all I needed to do was turn it around to face the yard.

I easily flipped the couch around, nervous excitement overtaking my senses and body as I imagined the delights just seconds away. I quickly washed my hands in the bathroom, pulled a couple items from my drawer and hustled back to the living room. I started opening the curtains and recoiled in shock and irritation.

Someone – looks like a man - was out there in the rain, splashing up on the verandah and depositing a rickety black umbrella in a corner before knocking on the door. The umbrella was useless, on account of all the water he was busy brushing off his arms and legs. I stashed my items under the couch seat and opened the door, intent on quickly dealing with him and getting to my pleasure.

“Hi Cherry” he greeted after a slight pause, surprised uncertainty in his eyes as he brushed a few droplets from his face. I figured he was expecting to see Mama instead of me.

“Tony, right?” I responded with a smile.

“Yes,” he said, grinning suddenly at me from his rain-wet face.

My irritation was dissolving rapidly as I looked him over. I had glimpsed him three nights ago, the first time since he had left for university two years ago. Many people didn’t go to university from this village, and people talked about him a lot, including his mother who couldn’t stop boasting about her bright son. It was annoying, especially for someone like me that didn’t make it to university.

I wasn’t annoyed now though. He was short and stocky when we were kids. He wasn’t tall now, just medium height, about two inches taller than my five foot eight. The stocky look was still there, but more athletic, like he was a sprinter or one of those American football players. As a boy his father used to give him bad haircuts, and it worsened the look of his face which was already ordinary with the flat nose and large, almost bulging eyes. Nobody would call him handsome now, but he had grown up well, sporting a clean shaved head, with eyes that were sharp and intelligent looking, and a face that was strong and hard, like a thick chunk of cured pimento wood.

His eyes moved quickly, up and down, just as I had done. But it was open and forward, the type of look that said he was not afraid to show his hand. He wanted me to know he was seeing me as a woman, a woman that grabbed his interest, and he wanted me to react to that interest.

I was interested in him for real, no doubt about it. I had felt it when I saw him last Friday, that flash of sexual curiosity, seeing him all sexy and relaxed. He had looked at me quickly, followed by a smile of recognition and a polite greeting. I smiled back, blushing and hoping he hadn’t seen the interest in my eyes. Now I grinned to myself, thinking how smooth he was then in the public place, acting all polite and decent, when he was clearly interested and just biding his time.

There was a prickling on my skin, leaving goosebumps on my arms and my nipples felt like someone was giving them little electric shocks. My pumpum twitched suddenly with pleasure, a sweet, achy pleasure. I was shocked at the reaction in my body and suddenly my thighs squeezed together, as if to keep the feelings trapped down there and not affecting the rest of me, for fear he could see his effect on me.

He was like a godsend, appearing as if by miracle, just when I was in the mood to frig myself with the weather and Mama cooperating so well. But with some effort I reined in the feelings. There was desire in his eyes, but I couldn’t assume he was planning to do anything about it right now.

“You here to see Mama?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, after a little hesitation. “My Mama asked me to drop off this partner money, and I couldn’t pass up the chance to see you.”

“I see you develop some sweet tongue,” I said saucily but I am sure he could tell I was flattered by his words.

“Sweet tongue yes, but truth too,” he said boldly, eyes lively with daring.

“Well, it’s good to see you too,” I said, giving him a little something in return, although I was warming up to him much faster than my words would indicate.

He held out his hand, offering an envelope that bulged slightly with the contents.

“I’ll give it to her,” I said, taking the envelope.

He stood there for a moment, eyes thoughtful, looking me over. I watched him, imagining the wheels turning in his head, figuring out how he should proceed. I waited, realizing belatedly with a touch of embarrassment that my lips were parted in anticipation of his next move.

“You want to dry those clothes?” I asked suddenly, surprising myself with the question. “Could give you time for the rain to ease off and you can tell me about life in Kingston.”

He looked at me sharply, surprise on his face. He looked down at his body with a frown, no doubt seeing and feeling the wetness in his shirt and pants. He looked at me, eyes steady, thinking it over.

“Ok,” he said with a shrug and smile. “Do you have something for me to put on or am I supposed to wait naked?”

“Not a bad idea,” I laughed back at him, knowing he was seeing the devilry in my eyes. “Don’t worry though, I’ll get you some of Papa’s clothes. He doesn’t need them anymore.”

I found a clean set of pants and shirt that looked close enough for his size. It was far from perfect though, because he was shorter and more muscular than Papa. The shirt was tight across his chest and arms and the pants were snug in the butt and crotch. He looked funny and sexy at the same time. He went and sat in my couch, making himself comfortable while I draped his wet clothes on the warm grate behind the fridge.

We talked for a bit, catching up on each other’s life over the past two years. I felt jealous, because he seemed to be doing so much and here I was wasting away in the dead-end village. He surprised me though, by praising what I was doing.

“Honey is a big deal,” he said, a little frown on his face. “You just need to scale up and get connected to the right distribution channels.”

I didn’t go to university, but I was always learning shit from free college courses and podcasts when the internet complied, so I knew what he was talking about.

“Scale up needs money and time, and that’s time I have to put in my regular job.”

“Let me think about it,” he replied, then leaned back in the couch with a strange smile on his face. “I see you still go to the river?”

“What?” I asked, frowning at him. I was perplexed as to why he would ask about the river.

“Those days were exciting even with the hard work,” he said with a longing look on his face. “Remember how we all used to play after the wash? Hide and seek, catch crawfish, eat guineps till we couldn’t walk properly…”

“Oh boy,” I smiled, remembering. “Those were the good old days. Kids nowadays just want to play video games. No love for nature. We don’t even wash clothes down there anymore. That life pretty much done.”

“Yet you were there yesterday,” he said quietly, his eyes still on my face.

“You were at the river?” I asked him, a nervous type of anxiousness spreading slowly through my belly.

He nodded silently, watching me. It might not be too bad, I thought to myself. Maybe he saw me going down or coming up, not necessarily in the river itself. But his next words shattered my flimsy hope.

“That big pool with the mango tree over it. I was heading for it, but just as I was about to climb down the bank, I saw you. I immediately thought of leaving but I just stood there, as if I had no power to move. I’m sorry for snooping on you but it was as if you hooked me right there, and the more I looked the more you pulled me in.”

I was ashamed and angry. In truth I really didn’t mind if someone sees me naked if I know and can make the decision for myself. But this was Peeping Tom stuff, him seeing me and copping a look without me knowing.

“You were snooping on me?” I snapped at him.

“Your fault for bathing out in public,” he said calmly, a little smile dancing across his lips, no doubt enjoying himself.

It was true. I knew it could happen but figured and hoped no one would be around. I was dying for a river bath; to have all the water I need to wash freely without thinking about conserving water. At least I didn’t bathe fully naked, although the flimsy slip was not much covering, especially when wet.

“What was so enticing?” I asked. His reasoning had taken away my excuse for being angry, and I decided to focus on the exciting part of what he had said.

“Everything,” he said, a faraway look in his eyes, faraway and happy. “I could just look at you all day, if you were just standing there in that wet slip, sticking to you like a second skin, you all curvy and sweet. But when you start to wash yourself it just make it sweeter.”

I am accustomed to men telling me how I look, in explicit terms. This was different. It’s amazing how two men could make it clear that they want bed you, and one leaves you disgusted while the other makes you wat to take off your panties right away. Tony was the panty dropping type.

He looked me in the eye once more and shuffled around in the couch, trying to make himself more comfortable, maybe because the pants were too tight for him. Without thinking my eyes slipped down to his crotch and they popped in surprise when I saw the clear outline of his hood to one side. I was surprised but the achiness in my pussy ramped up even more as I imagined him without pants.

He must have caught my eyes, and I am sure now that I wanted him to see me checking him out like that. His expression changed, his eyes boring into me, so intense that it was like I was not wearing any clothes and he could see all my nakedness and even into my thoughts.

it was surprising to me how comfortable and excited I felt, all alone here with him. Somehow, he had put me at ease without trying too hard, just by being himself. It helped a lot that I was already in the mood to play, but he sure revved up my interest.

It was strange. He wasn’t really my type. He was this nice, book type, not the big-talking rude boys I tend to like, even though they were not the best for me. Tony was different in a good way from way back, and his time in the city sure made him a sexy, confident man.

“So what exactly got you so spellbound at the river?” I asked finally.

“All of you, but it was a different level of wonder when you started to soap up,” he said, pulling my attention firmly back from my thoughts and squarely on to him. “It was like watching you caressing yourself for my benefit, caressing and massaging, your body wet and covered in soap bubbles. And the way you did it…it was not just a chore, not just cleaning yourself. I could tell you were enjoying it, and that part was a huge turn on too.”

“I love taking a bath,” I said, my mind all woozy with the beauty and sexiness of what he was saying. I always love poetry and he was speaking the sweetest, hottest verses to me right now

“And I can’t forget,” he continued, eyes glazed and slowly licking his lips at the memory. “You squatted down a bit, spreading your legs wide, and the slip ride up, showing off all of them firm, smooth thighs. And then you move that soapy rag up between them. I couldn’t see exactly what you were doing, but I could see your hand moving in, way in, then slowly and firmly up and down, soap suds covering all of your hand, your upper thighs and pussy area. You keep washing, up and down, then around in little circles, then in and out. I managed to look at your face a few times, hoping you were not noticing me watching you. But your eyes were closed by then…as if you were in another world. Your body trembled then, vibrating…and when you opened your eyes you looked so blissful…the joy on your face was real as your hand moved under the dress.

"Afterwards you waded into deeper water and sink down till the water was up to your chest. You bobbed up and down, rinsing off. You weren’t wearing any brassiere and your breasts bounced up and down, so round and juicy looking with the wet slip plastered tight on them. I couldn’t take my eyes off them. You were smiling at this time, a little smile, but a real smile…and I wonder how good it must feel to get such pleasure from washing your pumpum.”

He stopped talking and I realized I was staring at him, my mouth wide open, hardly breathing, legs turning jelly. My body felt hot all over and I knew I was in heat. My pumpum was fluttering, steady and strong, like another heart was down there between my legs. There was a wetness too, warm and sticky, like a raw honey spring was starting to open up inside of me.

“It was a good feeling,” I said to him, but decided not to mention that all that trembling and vibrating was me cumming. Maybe he knew and decided not to go there too. “And that’s what has you running over here to see me?”

“Yeah,” he smiled. “It was the exclamation point. I had seen you a couple days before and was going to check on you, but that just sealed the deal. I knew I had to come and see you”

“And I am glad you did. You are just what I need with this rain pouring down out there.”

I was shocked at how forward I sounded, but he had me feeling a certain way and I was in no condition to resist him, not that I wanted to at all.

“I wished you would say that,” he responded, flexing his strong legs, spreading them wide, causing his cock to shift and stand out even more in the tight pants. He followed my eyes, then looked back at me. “Come over here. I want to feel what it’s like to stroke your pussy the way you did.”

The rain was still lashing outside as I walked the short distance over to him. I stopped a few inches from him, and he leaned forward, his face in line with my crotch. He looked up at me, eyes locked with mine, a little question in his eyes. I realized he was asking permission, even though I would bet he was picking up my sex scent and knew I was ready for him. I smiled at him and he smiled back, the question disappearing from his face.

He was the man now, eyes heavy with desire and a lot of good, healthy lust. His wide nostrils opened up, like a jack donkey scenting the ginnie in heat. His tongue was out, slowly moistening the thick lips, moving slowly back and forth.

His hands went around my waist and down to my ass, his fingers strong and possessive, gently squeezing my big, soft ass. I grunted as the pleasure build up some more. He looked up at me, satisfied with my response, then got bolder. His hands went under my dress and palmed my ass cheeks again. This time I felt the hard warmth of his hands on my bare ass, because I was wearing one of those thongs with just a little string buried deep between my ass cheeks.

“You feel good,” he said softly, his hands busy, roaming all over my ass, fingertips finding and tracing the two dimples on my left cheek, then stroking all over, exploring me to his heart’s content.

“I like it, don’t stop,” I encouraged him, leaning in to brace myself on his broad shoulders. He was like a rock, hard and firm, and I leaned into him as he owned my ass, kneading and stroking, then spreading the cheeks apart, so wide until I could feel my pussy lips opening slightly.

“No stopping,” he said again, looking up at me. He kept his eyes on mine and I felt his fingers snaked under the strings of the thongs and slowly rolled them down my thighs. He carefully removed them from around my feet, then tucked them in the pants pocket. He flipped up the hem of the dress and his head disappeared from my view.

He sniffed my pussy. Sniffed again, his lips so close to my flesh I could feel his warm breath on the sensitive lips.

“You smell good,” he said from beneath the dress, his voice muffled but clear enough for me to hear him above the crashing rain. “It smell like good pussy.”

He stood up suddenly and pointed to the couch. “Sit down,” he said, his voice all of a sudden sounding like a command. I quickly complied, body buzzing with anticipation.

“Lean back,” he commanded again. “Make yourself comfortable.”

I leaned back meekly, totally at his mercy. He seemed to tower over me, standing there, legs braced, his dick thick and hard in my dead Papa’s pants.

“Spread your legs. Put them up on the armrest. I want you wide open for me.”

I hesitated a bit, but he was having none of it. “Just do it,” he said firmly, his bare foot nudging mine.

I did as he demanded, lifting my legs up on to the armrest. The dress ride up all the way on my thighs to my belly. I lay there like that, fully skin out, exposing all of my wide-open thighs and my pussy to his eyes. And the doubt hit me hard as I lay there like that, doubt filling up my mind with negative thoughts, doubt that he would be disappointed.

He didn’t say or do anything, just stand there, eyes fastened on my pumpum, his mouth hanging open and breathing hard. He looked like he was in a spell, like the pussy put obeah on him. The doubt vanished and I smiled with relief and satisfaction. And I could feel the warmth spreading all over me again, starting out in my open pussy, like there was a fire growing down there, growing and spreading out.

“What a way you like the pussy, ehh?” I asked him, a