Well, it wasn’t really a cabin, I just called it that. It was a 2 story log house with 3 bedrooms, 2 baths, living room, den and kitchen/dining room. It was far more room than I needed, it came with the campground and my partners didn’t want to live in it. They owned a large, spacious house about a kilometer away. They needed the room because of their 5 kids. The visit of the 2 young people stirred up long-buried memories, memories I had hoped were buried forever. I am a computer security consultant, and also an instructor at a small community college near Halifax, Nova Scotia. I’ve been with the college about 15 years now, and also consult with small and medium sized businesses as a sideline. Though my partner and his wife and I are equal owners of the campground we have little to do with the day-to-day operation of it. We have a very capable manager who runs it for us. We might help out when it’s really busy, but usually we just stay out of the way. 23 years ago, I was just a young. She kissed me back gently, wrapped her arms around me and rubbing my back gently. We’d never gone farther than a small kiss on the lips, and that was enough to nearly drive me insane. I could feel myself getting wet, and I carefully picked her up. Not breaking our kissing, I sat down on the couch, with her on top of me. She didn’t protest. Her tongue traced the outside of my bottom lip, and she pressed down against me. I was getting wetter every second, and feeling her tits pressing into mine wasn’t exactly improving my self-control. I knew she could feel my nipples hardening and pressing into her. My breath was quickening, and so was hers. Her hands slipped down and squeezed my ass. I moaned in surprise against her mouth, my back arching against her. She smiled against my lips and bit down on my lip, which, ironically, was my favorite trick. I moved to lay on my back, and she slid on top of me. “Come on, I know you want to touch me back.” She whispered against my lips. I did. I let.
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