John reached down with his right hand and took hold of his penis. He pulled to stretch it to almost twice its length. He then rubbed it to get some hardness into it immediately. It wasn't a very difficult thing to get his cock started to an erection. Knowing he had an audience didn't slow things down any, either. His prick came to life without hesitation. Blood started flushing into the penile tubes and getting trapped inside them.

John momentarily left his cock to its own jerks toward stiffness. With the flat of his hand, he wiped his chest and belly free of most of the water that still clung there. He then turned to give his hidden admirer a look at his ass buns-women usually had a thing for male ass. By the time he turned back, his cock was stuck straight out from his body and was going even harder.

John fisted his cock with his right hand and cupped his balls with his left. He rolled his hips in a sensuous fucking motion, letting his cock fuck his hand.

"If you were a husband of mine, I'd want to know why you were out here playing with yourself instead of back at the house trying to give my cunt all of that goodness," Marne said, coming out from behind her inadequate concealment.

"Oh, it's you, sister," John said, easily recognizing Marne in her short skirt and cashmere sweater. It was obvious Marne wasn't wearing a brassiere under that sweater, either. John could, he was sure, see the bumps his sister's nipples were making in the softly clinging wool material. "I thought you were someone else."

"Obviously," Marne said, flashing her brother a conspiratorial smile. At the same time, she noticed John hadn't pulled his hand away from his cock. And, her brother had actually commenced a languid pumping of his hardness.

"I thought you were back at the house getting some shut-eye," John said, giving Marne a decidedly boyish grin. "Creagon reminds me of the kind of guy who would keep a pretty wife like you up most every night."