Monday, 28 March 2011

Poking in a Punt Part One

Have you ever poked in a punt? I can't remember the exact date when I joined that particular club but it was during a delightful Trinity Term when the sun never stopped shining and the girls of Oxford never looked lovelier nor more available in their summer finery. I may be getting old, now, but in my mind's eye it is the early 1980s and I was making my way along Cornmarket in the general direction of Folly Bridge with a blanket and a bottle of wine in one hand and a lovely girl named Caroline in the other.

We reached the bridge and I took delivery of one of  my college's punts that were moored there. Once bird, booze and blanket were stored away to my satisfaction I took a deep breath and punted us away to one of the tributaries that run off the main river and rammed the punt against a steep bank. The one that I chose had trees running along its top with branches that hung low over the water, in fact some of them actually touched it and I remember having to duck down to get the punt hard against the bank. That done I jammed the punting pole in the mud  to leave the craft firmly wedged in place between the pole and the bank and then I turned my attention to other matters.

We drank the wine, and kissed and touched each other, and everything was all very languid and just as you would expect an Oxford summer's day to be. Madam was wearing a light cream dress with roses printed on it and I can remember that it had five large buttons running from top to bottom and a belt that went around her waist. The latter I pulled free and then spent a happy few minutes undoing all the buttons to reveal the prize that lay within.

I suppose that you are expecting to hear a report of her expensive lingerie, so I am sorry to disappoint any underwear fetishist when I state that she was wearing a rather simple but sweet ensemble of matching white bra and panties. The former undid at the front which made my task a lot easier, and the latter frothy confection of lace and cotton was then pealed down slowly - these things must never ever be rushed - to reveal a sweet pussy, neatly trimmed but not shaven, just as I like them to be.

As I spread the blanket out properly Caroline took the opportunity to sit up and glanced around nervously, holding her long blond hair in a ball atop her head and biting her lip anxiously.

"Are you sure that nobody can see us?" The voice that asked the question was small and uncertain, it's owner needing urgent reassurance that everything was well.

"We can't get more private that this," I told her, that being the simple truth. "The trees cover us on the river side and the bank is so high that you would have to stand right on top of it and almost fall in the water to see us. Besides, there's a playing field or something on the other side, and it looks deserted." That last bit was a bit of an invention, very well, actually it was pure tosh, but I didn't think that it would do any harm especially if it calmed the girl down. More fool me, but Caroline sighed and with a final glance around she lay back on the blanket and quietly waited until I had undressed myself and joined her.

So we kissed and touched and she sucked my cock and I stroked her breasts and flanks and we prepared each other as my cock became hard and her pussy grew moist. And everything was just so very right on that long ago day when the sun hung heavy over Oxford and the river waters lapped lazily against the punt as I lay atop Caroline and her hand closed around my cock and guided it into her body.

What more can be said? Caroline was an achingly lovely spring morning of a girl, and ion all her twenty years I doubt if she could ever have looked as wonderful. as she did that day. I looked down at her heavy breasts as they swayed with the rhythm of our lovemaking, and her eyes caught mine and she smiled languidly both with pleasure at the joining of our bodies and delight at the knowledge that I found her so very desirable.

Caroline placed both hands on my face and held it a few inches away from hers, staring deeply onto my eyes the whole time. She clenched her pussy muscles and arched her pelvis downwards in time with my thrusts. I tried to pull away but she clung to me fiercely, looking all the while into my eyes as if she could read my passion for her in them.

I began to build up the speed of my thrusts. As I did so Caroline reached down, twisted somehow to one side and then I felt the fingers of her right hand gently splay across my bottom. I though that she would rest her hand there to feel my buttock muscles as I thrust deeper and deeper into her body but incredibly she didn't. Instead she inserted her middle finger inside me, not to deep that was impossible, but up to the first joint. Then she moved it in and out in time with my thrusts into her. It was as if I was fucking Caroline as she fucked me and the sensation was exquisite.

"I can't hold it for much longer," I told her, urgency clearly audible in my tone.

Caroline just smiled that lazy smile of hers and slowly nodded her head, her eyes closing as she did so. It was time for both of us.

My muscles relaxed as the great hot surge bubbled up from deep within my balls to spill into Caroline's eager body. She wrapped her arms around my neck as I came and threw back her head to let out a great glorious howl of joy as she felt my cream begin to lap around the entrance to her womb. As I said earlier, everything was just so right on that day...

We collapsed into each others arms and lay there sated for I can't remember how long. Caroline stroked my hair, a curiously maternal gesture that I found relaxed me even more than I was already. We could have remained like that  for an eternity more, but there was sudden splash in the water around the punt. At first I thought that a large fish had jumped out of the water and splashed back into the depths, but then from on top of the bank a small voice piped up:

"May  we have out ball back, please sir?"

It just had to happen, didn't it? The playing field was now occupied with small boys all in their bright running around the playing field uniform and they should not have seen us but some budding football star had kicked a ball too hard and it had sailed over everyone's heads to land in the water by our punt. Looking up I saw about half a dozen eager young fellows, all eyes that feasted upon Caroline. With a sigh I got up and madam hastily pulled her dress around her, but not before the gang or 11 year olds had finished their impromptu anatomy lesson.

Still buck naked I managed to grab the ball out of the water and somehow tossed it up the six feet of bank where it was taken by one of the spectators. Alas for Caroline they then made no attempt to leave, instead they continued to feast their eyes on her distress and I noticed that grins were beginning to form around several lips.

So did Caroline who clearly was made out of stern stuff. Far from being fazed by this she sat up, holding her dress around her and harangued the merry throng above our heads:

"Haven't you got better things to do with yourselves?" she asked, a silly question if you want my opinion. The fellows obviously felt that same way as none of them moved.

"Want me to come up there and smack bottoms?" I'll do it, you know! You see if I don't! Shorts down for all of you!" That did it - the gang made itself collectively scarce and madam turned her baleful gaze up me.

"You said that nobody could see us didn't you?" Well, what the bloody hell were they? Scotch mist?"

With a weary sense of what was to happen I knew at once that our lovely afternoon was over and a tough evening was about to begin.

To be continued

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