Chapter 39: Eggs in the Afternoon
Kaitlyn lay down and began warming back up on the small beach while I set up camp, unpacking our stuff from the kayak, pitching the tent, and so forth.
When I finished, I called over to her, “We need to get back across the lake if we’re going to get to the visitor’s center before they close, to find a ranger to get us up to speed on the local invasive mussel population. C’mon!”
“I’m still chilled. This beach went into shade just minutes after I lay down,” she complained.
“You can warm up with paddling,” I suggested.
“I’ll paddle you!” she stated, a small smile on her lips.
“Will a small present stave off this dire threat?”
She looked skeptical, so I just walked over to a bag I’d extracted from the kayak and pulled out something I’d snuck in from the truck’s storage earlier. I handed it to her without a word and waited for her reaction.
“A vibrating egg!?”
“Do you know how to use it?”
“I, ah… I’ve seen them for sale. I think I have the basic idea,” she admitted.
“It’s our wedding gift from your parents, believe it or not. Well, mainly from your mother, I suspect, probably bought while she was off shopping for Little Davie.”
Kaitlyn slapped a hand across her eyes. “I’d never have believed she could be so hedonistic.”
“This is a woman who brought four children into the world,” I pointed out. “She didn’t do that by being chaste and pure. Anyway, I think I’m partly to blame for her reawakening. Are you upset about that?”
“Honestly, Davie, our trip with her was one of the best of my life,” she replied seriously. “Anyway, you said this is our wedding gift. What do you get out of it?”
“Besides watching my lovely wife have multiple orgasms? On the off chance that this is not enough, they included this remote control,” which I produced by unfolding my other hand before her.
“Oho! That kind of vibrating egg!” she chortled.
“I propose that you put it in now, and we use it through the rest of the evening.”
“If I spill us in the drink, you don’t get to be mad,” she replied.
“I’d better practice a bit before we go, then. Slip it in,” I told her.
She looked around needlessly, then squatted into a spread-legged pose and slid the egg inside herself.
We played with the settings, discovering that the lowest setting produced a mild buzz that only put a bemused smile on her face, while the highest, six clicks of the “plus” button up from there, caused Kaitlyn to lose her balance and squirm on the ground. I just barely caught her and helped lower her to the sand.
“Enough!” she quickly called after I turned it on at level 7.
“Seventh heaven?” I proposed after turning the egg off.
“Holy shitballs, Davie!” she breathed, calming down. I just let her get back under control, waiting for a more coherent answer. She rolled onto her butt and elbows, legs spread, knees up, then said, “Try that again, but for like five seconds this time. I’m ready now.”
I pressed the “on” button, and her elbows went out from under her, dropping her head to the sand. Her knees began to flap back and forth between blissful relaxation and contraction. Halfway between these stages, she called out loudly in orgasm, “Aaaaaiigggghhh!” and as her knees were slamming back together, she squirted the egg out two feet onto the sand!
I turned the egg off as I chased it, snatching it up shortly before it could roll down the shore into the lake. Then observing that the surface of the egg was now rather sandy, I washed it off in the lake and blew it dry with a magical blast of air.
“That egg,” Kaitlyn pronounced between a pair of deep breaths, “is a weapon.”
“Like a taser,” I agreed.
After she’d recovered a bit, I suggested, “Let’s find a happy medium.” I handed the egg back to her, she slipped it in, and we decided that level six was also to be used carefully. I promised to confine myself to the first five levels unless she asked me to go higher.
I set the egg on level two, then we got into our swimwear, put a few necessary things into the boat’s dry storage compartment, and began paddling back across the lake towards the marina.
I thought about pulsing Kaitlyn a few times along the way, but since I’d have had to put my paddle across my thighs to remove the remote control from the dry storage compartment, I decided not to, knowing I wouldn’t have the element of surprise. I just helped her push us back towards the local slice of civilization and let the anticipation build.
The visitor’s center was not far from the marina, so we lifted the nearly empty boat into the FJ’s short bed. While Kaitlyn was down near the bumper tying a rope between the kayak’s carry handle and the truck’s undercarriage, I slipped the egg’s remote out of storage, concealing it in the little coin and key pouch of my swim trunks.
Halfway across the marina parking lot, on our way to the visitor’s center, I found the remote’s “on” button by touch and gave Kaitlyn a little pulse, then a smile.
“Ahh!” was all she said, smiling back when the tiny wave of pleasure subsided, returning my smile. She knew how this was going to go.
“How about we get dinner there at that restaurant?” I said, pointing at what appeared to be the only such place in the tiny village of Bullfrog, Utah.
“Sounds good. I’ll call and check that they’re open,” she offered, digging into a small fanny pack for her phone. “I don’t imagine that they’ll require reservations, but it can’t hurt to ask.”
I let her get into her call before fumbling through the cloth of my swimsuit for the remote’s “up” button, looking like I was fiddling with the waistband, then giving her another pulse.
“Yes, we’re just checking if you’ll be, aaahh!, um…pant, ah, open for dinner at 5:30? Table for one?” I looked puppy dog eyes at her, so she said, “Make that two.” Pause. “Great, thanks!”
I started laughing after she hung up.
“Evil, evil man!” she muttered while zipping the phone back into her fanny pack.
I reached over and rubbed her back, still chortling lightly.
Inside the visitor’s center, we found a ranger that was temporarily free, so we let her know our special interest. She took us over to a model of the lake near the visitor’s center and treated us to an impromptu lecture on what was known about the local mussel populations, initially focusing on where they were thickest and where they caused the biggest problems, which only partially overlapped. Next, she took us to a photo exhibit and began showing us what to look for.
Pointing at one of the pictures, the ranger said, “The major invasive species in this lake is the quagga mussel, not the zebra, as some people mistakenly say.”
“Can we eat them? You know, like in Belgian cuisine?”
“We don’t recommend it. The species eats by filtering the water, which means the ones near the marina suck up the motor oil that leaks from around the prop shafts of boats and such. Best stick to those raised in known-clean water,” the ranger informed us.
I decided to interpret this as meaning those we found near our campsite would be okay as long as we checked them out with our mage senses. It was better to eat them than to just destroy them outright.
As Kaitlyn was asking a follow-up question, I pulsed her again.
“Does anything in the lake eeeeeeyaaahhh…” Her hands went forward to rest on the railing running along the exhibit’s wall. “Cough, eat them?” Then she looked sharply at me, having managed to deliver up her question to our tutor.
“Are you all right, miss?”
“Fine, fine,” Kaitlyn said, “it’s just getting on toward dinner, and this talk of food has me tumbly all rumbly.”
“Oh, well, we’ll be shutting down soon anyway,” the ranger said, concern abating. “As to your question, the mussels do have a few natural enemies here in the US, but not nearly as much as in Europe where they come from. Over evolutionary time, we expect that to change, but in the meantime they’re spreading without much of a check. That’s one reason they’re classed as an invasive species; if the ecosystem had gotten quickly back into balance after their introduction, we might’ve just let it go.”
“Well, thank you for your time, Ms. Nemo,” I said, reading off the ranger’s name tag. “I think I need to get her fed.”
On our way back out to mi burro, Kaitlyn muttered, “Get her fed indeed,” so I pulsed her again.
“Yep, you’re getting positively faint from hunger. See? Now you’re beginning to stumble. It is my responsibility as your husband to look after your needs, so let’s not dally. Why are we going back to the truck, anyway? The restaurant is over that way.”
Kaitlyn just looked levelly at me for a while, then she said, “I thought we’d get changed before dinner. One last use of our formal-wear before we put it away back at home.”
“A lovely thought, I agreed. “Where can we get changed?”
“I was planning on wearing this bikini as underwear, so we can just get dressed beside the truck,” she replied.
“Fair idea, but it’s red; it’ll show right through the dress,” I objected.
“So I’ll slip the dress over my head, and you can pull my bikini top off once I’m covered.”
“I think I’d like to take the bottoms off, too. After the dress is on, of course,” I said with a sly smirk.
“Oooo, commando bride, I like it!” she replied. Then to finish her thought, she added, “And you can just wear those swim trunks as boxers.”
“Good plan,” I agreed.
We caught a few glances from people watching us get into our wedding clothes one last time there in the parking lot, but no one bothered us about it.
It was indeed fun slipping Kaitlyn’s bikini top out through the halfway buttoned-up back of her dress. It was even more fun reaching up underneath to untie the bikini bottom’s side-ties and pull it out under the dress’ frills along the bottom hem.
“S-E-X-X-Y,” I spelled, recalling one of my favorite They Might Be Giants songs.
“Do I get a cookie in one hand?” she asked, referencing one of the song’s lines.
“I didn’t know you were into TMBG!”
“Vin is,” she replied. “He played it a lot while I was still at home going to college. Kinda got me into it.”
“I knew I liked that boy for some reason. And yes, you can have a cookie. You’ve been very, very good.” And with that, I turned the egg back on and left it on.
Kaitlyn just kind of sank into a shallow squat and rode out the wave. “Oh, wow…” she breathed quietly a few seconds after I turned the egg back off.
“Better than cookie?”
She nodded but added, “I think I need the cookie, t-too. Keep up my energy.”
“Let’s go get you fed, my bride,” I replied, holding my elbow out to her.
Empirically, a man in a tux strolling with his bride across a rural American parking lot draws more looks than does the same couple quietly changing into those clothes beside a truck in the same parking lot, and walking into a quiet restaurant draws even more.
The restaurant staff was most solicitous, being more used to seeing customers in tee shirts, shorts and Tevas.
Shortly after we got our table, we saw a uniformed woman in her late 20s walk in the door. It was the ranger from the visitor’s center!
“Good evening, Ranger. Are you here alone?”
She looked at us for a few seconds before making the connection, our mode of dress having changed so drastically since she’d seen us, perhaps fifteen minutes before. “Oh, you’re the couple asking about mussels. Yeah, I sometimes pop over here for dinner rather than break into the Bachelor Chow back at my trailer.”
I looked across at Kaitlyn and got a small nod.
“Would you like to dine with us this evening? I know I don’t like dining alone, even as introverted as I am.”
“It looks like I’m interrupting…” she began.
Kaitlyn answered, “No, we’re just giving these outfits one last run before they go into the closet. We were married a week ago, then had our big reception the night before coming down. It’s as close to evening clothes as we have with us on this trip.”
“Well, if you’re sure…”
“Yes. I’m sure we can find something to talk about.” I waved over one of the waitstaff and had them move a chair over from a nearby table.
“Some trio we make,” chuckled the ranger, “like the setup of a cheesy joke. A newlywed couple and a park ranger walk into a bar…”
We smiled, and I essayed a start at the joke’s next line. “Then the newlyweds start quizzing the ranger about muscle-bound zebras.”
“So what is your interest in the mussels, exactly?” asked the ranger.
Kaitlyn and I shared a look, and I signaled that she should handle this one. I thought this idea would come off less crazy woman-to-woman. Besides, she was piloting this boat, so to speak.
“What if we told you we thought we could bring the mussel population back into some kind of balance? Probably not get the lake back to its pre-mussel state, but give the original species a chance to fight their way back into their old niches?”
“I’d be skeptical, is what,” replied Ms. Nemo.
“Do you snorkel or dive in the lake?” I asked her.
“Yeah, I’m actually PADI-certified for open water diving. I got started diving in the tropics on vacation, but I kept it up once I discovered that there’s plenty to see here at the lake, too.”
“Any chance we could hire you as guide for us tomorrow?” Kaitlyn asked.
“Um, sure, it’s my day off, and I hadn’t planned anything in particular yet. My price: you’re picking up dinner.”
“Deal,” my wife said, extending her hand across the table. “I’m Kaitlyn, and the guy in the tux is Davie.”
“Kristen,” the ranger replied as she shook on the agreement. “You two have scuba gear here, too?”
“Well, um, let’s just say that we’re skin-divers,” Kaitlyn replied shiftily. “Don’t worry, we can keep up with you, within reason.”
“Tough discipline,” commented the ranger.
“We’re also bike commuters, doing almost ten miles daily. It gives us plenty of stamina for skin diving.”
We chatted on into the evening, leaving her with directions to our campsite and agreeing that she’d be out there sometime after breakfast.
As dessert arrived, I peeked under the table into my hand, found the remote’s “up” button, and pulsed the remote for about a second on setting five.
“Ohhhhh!” she exhaled, almost squealing.
Kristen looked over and said, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, um, don’t those look amazing?” she said, pointing at the small dessert plates, directing Kristen’s attention to them while glaring at me as I smiled innocently back.
After we sent the ranger on her way back home, Kaitlyn said, “There’s a small problem. I’m commando now, and I can’t take the kayak back across like this. It’s still light out, too.”
“We’ll just reverse our steps. Getting your bikini back on under the dress will be tricky but fun,” I replied, confident of both claims.
“If you say so,” she replied.
Back at the truck, I did just as proposed, slipping the still-tied side of her bikini up one leg under her dress, both of us enjoying its passage, then tying it on as well as I could with my arms up the other side of that dress. Then I unbuttoned the back of her dress, threaded the strapless bikini top under her breasts, caressed them as my hand passed slowly under them, fed it through and tied the top in the back, then tugged it up over her breasts in front.
“There you go,” I told her, then reached into my tux slacks’ pocket and pulsed her with the remote on level five again, this time for a good three seconds. “How does the bikini feel? Too tight?” I asked solicitously as she rose slowly from the squat she’d sunk a few inches down into, barely keeping herself upright. “Maybe you need a bit of adjustment?”
“I’m going to adjust your skull if you hit me like that in public again,” she threatened while peeling off her wedding dress.
I just smiled and began removing my tux, folding it carefully and stowing it back behind the FJ’s seats, exchanging the dress shoes for my Tevas, being careful to transfer the egg’s remote from the tux to the coin pouch on my swim trunks.
“Let’s go get some supplies from that convenience store while we’re here on this side of the lake,” I suggested.
“What do we need?”
“I intend to try Lake Powell mussels while we’re out here. We’ve got salt and pepper in the camping gear, but I at least want to get a half pound of butter or so to sauté them in. Maybe some garlic, herbs, that sort of thing.”
“Sounds yummy. Let’s go,” she said.
While we shopped, I buzzed Kaitlyn a few more times, the egg now back down on level 3, including once for about ten seconds while I fumbled for my wallet, having to resort to a fanny pack now that I had no real pockets any more. If I’d let it go on any longer, I think Kaitlyn would have offered to pay just to let me divert attention back to the remote, to turn it off before she started to make noises she’d prefer not to in front of the cashier.
Back at the truck, we got the kayak back down from the bed, bade good-bye to our nudist mascots strapped to the license plate frame, and got moving back across the lake.
This time across, I’d taken care to get the remote into one hand along with the paddle. I left it set on level 3 and pulsed Kaitlyn several more times on the trip back, gamely continuing to paddle while she momentarily lost concentration on her part of the task. I couldn’t very well scold her for not keeping up her end, now could I?
I ended up paddling for a few minutes solo, leaving the egg running the whole time. As Kaitlyn began to pant and moan, I turned it back off, intending to do nothing but tease her…for now.
Back at camp, I told Kaitlyn, “I want to explore around the top-side of this little bluff while we’ve still got a bit of light. Go up invisible, then enjoy the sunset nude if it looks clear.”
“That’ll mean getting rid of this evil egg and its remote,” she replied jokingly.
“Tough choice, but given that the alternative is to hold you in my arms while the sun sets over the lake, I’ll happily put the egg away.”
“Dammit, Davie, you can be so sweet when you’re not being evil,” she accused.
“Still the same guy you married, just with new super-powers is all. Blame your mother,” I suggested.
Kaitlyn got a thoughtful look, started to speak, clammed up, and then began again. “You know, this isn’t your first super-power. I’m wondering if you need the egg at all.”
Her meaning didn’t immediately land, but once it did, it was like a neon lotus flower on fire, blooming in slow motion. “You’re suggesting that I learn to stimulate you through the bond.”
“Why not? You’ve already learned how my body responds through the bond using a different tool,” she replied, looking down at the dangly bit I’d freed by dropping my swim trunks. “And we know you can affect natural things from a distance. Here, lemme go get that remote.”
As she climbed the short cliff up to where I’d kicked my trunks, I could see that her labia were somewhat spread, giving me a peek of the silver egg nestled between them.
She sat down near the edge of the cliff with the remote now in hand, looking down at me and said, “Now, while I use this, I can’t use magic, but you can. Spread your mage senses into my body as close around the, ah, area of interest and watch what happens when I turn the remote on. I’ll start at the lowest level.”
I found that her vaginal sheath dampened the tech field around the egg, which wasn’t that strong anyway, basically being a plastic shell, a motor with an offset weight on its shaft, and a simple receive-only radio circuit. It presented nowhere near the Kryptonite effects of a smartphone on my magic. Still, I told her, “Push it in deeper, near where I found your g-spot. It’ll get it up away from your clit, so it won’t be as intense for you, but it should still do the job. I think I need the clearest view of your clit area to begin with.”
“So like a man, always wanting to see the clit,” she groused comically.
“For science,” I reminded her.
We explored the possibilities for a good fifteen minutes, changing settings, changing dwell times, and moving the egg around inside. I learned more about the process of orgasm that way than I had in the months we’d been together, and I knew just how to begin employing it.
“Time to put away the toys, Kaitlyn. The sunset awaits.”
She popped the egg out, put it and the remote away in one of the bags inside the tent, and we began climbing up toward the bluff, some eighty feet above the surface of the lake. As we approached the top, we went invisible, emerging into the lowering orange sunset, streaming through us and bathing the surrounding rocks in warm light.
We looked around some and saw that there was a jeep trail that went along the lake edge a few hundred feet back from where the climb down to our campsite began, but now that we were up here, we knew we’d see anyone coming before they saw us, as long as we kept a mage-eye out along the landscape.
We considered moving back far enough from the cliff edge to be out of sight of the few boats still out on the lake, but since we were backlit by the sunset, we decided it wasn’t necessary. Besides, coming up here to watch the sunset-cast shadows crawl across the lake was part of the point.
I found a sloped rock near the cliff edge and sat down, using it as a fair approximation to a chair back, being in rapport with Gaia as I was. Kaitlyn sat down between my legs, laying back on my chest, my arms around her. Wordlessly, I held her, then began to slowly practice my new art, magically stimulating her erogenous zones without moving a muscle.
“Oh, Davie, that feels so niiiice! Emmmmmmmhhhhh!”
Although I realized I could continue stimulating her without moving my hands, I wanted some tactile feedback of my own, so while I magically concentrated on her genital area, my hands began roaming her torso, gently caressing and squeezing her breasts, circling her belly, sliding down the inside of her thighs, around and up over her hips, up her sides, and rubbing her neck before returning to her breasts.
Kaitlyn held her arms out like the wings of a bird this whole time, reveling in the erotic freedom.
Shortly, she began to shudder and gasp. “D-Davie! I’m clo-o-o-ose!”
I spread my efforts out and sped the action, squeezing her nipples while I turned my virtual mage-vibrator up to level seven.
“Eeeeeeyyyyyaaaahhhhhhh!!” she bellowed over the surface of the lake, her body clenching orgasmically in my embrace.
I let the magical stimulation drop, but I continued slowly stroking her body with my hands, waiting for her to emerge from her foaming bliss.
Some while later, she said, “That was absolutely amazing. We must do that again. And again and again.”
“Toss the egg?” I suggested.
“No, we’ll still need that from time to time while I’m clothed. But this is better than the egg.”
“You want to know what’s really cool?” I asked.
“What’s that?”
“We’re newbies. Tyros. Novices. What’re we going to discover once we get really good?”
She just shuddered with anticipation in my arms. Shortly, she got up, walked over to the cliff edge, and lay down atop it, silhouetted upon it by the last of the sun rays. “C’mere Davie, and let’s make art.”
I walked over and joined her silhouette art piece, which we later titled “Magic at the Lake.”