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On the lake with the McCallums.
"I've always found that you can't go wrong giving 'em a quick peek between your legs," the blonde said, eyes again closed. "Most men-and women, even though a lot of 'em won't admit it-will do whatever it takes to see what they shouldn't be seeing, and that little treasure we all have between our legs is the ultimate prize." Gwen wondered what the men behind the wheel thought, resisting the urge to look back over her shoulder, curious just how hard Tim could get without touching it. Maybe he WAS touching it...
She lay her head back down and remained on her stomach, intent on not stealing any more of Yvette's moves but emboldened by her display. Her hand went to an asscheek to scratch an imaginary itch, the actual motion more of a caress. Gwen shifted on her towel, feigning an effort to get more comfortable while one leg crept away from the other. A hint of air against her lips told her the view had likely improved for the men behind her and she ground her mons against the towel at the thought, relishing the feeling of pressure on her clit and only reluctantly stopping to lie still.
"Pretty hot," Bob yelled from the shade of the cockpit. "You ladies mind if we stop for a swim and a sit?"
Yvette sat up to look around, bringing both legs up to cock them at the knee, forming a darkened valley at their junction. "You're the captain. Right here?"
"We'll get run over here. I was thinking the beach."
"The beach?" Gwen asked, risking a look about. There were a couple of boats off in the distance, probably too far off to make out the women on the top of the cabin cruiser...
"The one we met you two at. That alright, or do you just want to stay out drive around for a while? Whatever you're comfortable with."
"No, the beach is fine," Gwen politely insisted. "A swim would be nice." The engine's roar grew louder as the craft increased speed, eventually dying back to a low grumble, then silence, as they coasted in close to the shore. She cautiously raised her head again. The now-familiar anchorage was more crowded than the last time they had been there; four unoccupied boats in all, with two couples on the sand lying close enough to each other to assume they were together, a group of four what appeared to be college-age water skiers taking a break, and two single men sitting apart up near the tree line. The skiers were the only ones bothering with swimwear, the young men alternating between nervous sideways glances at the naked flesh on display about them and looks at the boat that had just arrived.
Tim and Bob were already busy at the stern loading a raft with items meant to stay afloat and dry on the trip to shore. Gwen could see their attention to the task had distracted them enough to soften their erections considerably, but she knew they could easily be summoned to return.
Their husbands were not the focus of the male beachgoers, though; it was the women now standing forward of the cockpit. The height of the cabin which had offered the Lady some comfort from prying eyes now made the Slut feel as though she were on a stage not unlike in her dreams and fantasies.
The men were the first in the water, towing the raft behind them to shore. The feeling of being on display made Gwen take her time as Yvette clambered down the ladder and walked to the swim deck at the stern, apparently not at all concerned with the amount of the attention those on the beach were giving her. Her t-shirt and shorts had been left behind; Gwen glanced at her own bikini lying at her feet, debating as to whether it should be brought along and kept close to hand just in case. She joined Yvette on the stern empty-handed.
Gwen stood up in chest-deep water after a short swim and began to trudge to shore, rivulets cascading down over her glistening skin as more of her body emerged with each step.