Summer, My Sister's Best FriendbySusanJillParker©
This is a Summer Lovin' contest story. Please vote.
Stephen's love of his life is his sister's best friend, Summer, a woman eight years older than him.
Summer, I'm in love with Summer, my sister Christine's best friend and I don't know what to do about it. Love at first sight, it all started the first time I saw Summer in the summer of 1968. She was in the backyard with my sister in the pool. As if my sister was swimming with an angel, a woman with a model's face and a porn star body, I couldn't believe how beautiful she was.
With her long, blonde hair and shapely body, never have I seen anyone as beautiful. Then later, they'd lie out in the hot sun in their bikinis to bake themselves by the pool. Considered a two piece swimsuit today, by modern standards of what bikinis are now, the song, Itsy, Bitsy, Teenie, Weenie, Yellow, Polka Dot Bikini would have to be renamed, Itsy, Bitsy, Teenie, Weenie, Barely There, String Bikini, if written today.
When seeing my sister and her friend out back, especially with them showing so much skin, they were both so hot and I was so sexually aroused. They were so sexy. No doubt, not wanting to be deemed sluts by some of the older and more reserved residents of the neighborhood, my sister and her friend were careful not to be seen in their bikinis without wearing their cover ups. Even when fully dressed, they knew that they made men crazy, never mind if men saw them strutting around in their bikinis. Not wanting all of that unwanted sexual attention, they wore their bikinis only in the backyard and never at the beach.
'Twas a time when I was always so horny. 'Twas a time when I always walked around with an erection. 'Twas a time when I masturbated night and day. 'Twas a time, even with the sexual revolution in full force, when sexuality was much more reserved than it is today.
Secluded in the backyard, obviously, they thought that no one could see them so nearly nakedly exposed. With the high backyard fence, the multitude of bushes and the line of trees that blocked everyone's view of them, they thought they had total privacy but they didn't. They thought I wasn't home but I was. They thought they were alone but they weren't. Wrong, wrong, wrong, if only they knew I was there watching them they'd be so angry with me.
Never bored with the view, I watched them for hours out my 2nd floor, bedroom window while masturbating over all that my sister and her best friend were showing and all that I was seeing. Not even showing much than what a two piece bathing suit conceals, compared to how women show so much of their bodies today, they'd be thought of as prudes. Having peeped on my sister, masturbated over her sunbathing nearly naked, and masturbated over the incestuous thoughts of having sex with my sister lots of times before, now I was more focused on my sister's best friend, Summer, than on my sister.
While staring at Summer from afar, I'd stroke myself to her laying out on her stomach with her bra undone while my sister buttered her beautiful body with Coppertone, suntan lotion. Laying it on thick, I imagined coating Summer's beautiful body with my cum. Oh my God, how I wished it was me slowly and lovingly lathering her back and creaming her long, shapely legs with suntan lotion while trying to steal peeks of the exposed sides of her beautiful breasts.
From where I peeked down at them from my bedroom window, I could see the entire side of Summer's huge, natural, C cup breast, especially when she leaned up on her elbows to talk to my sister. Waiting while hoping to show just a little more, if only she knew I was there watching her while masturbating over her, she'd be so embarrassed. She'd be so angry that I peeped on her. If only she'd arch her back just a little more and lean up just a little bit higher, I'd see her areola and nipple. Imagining her naked breast in my mind, I'd love to see her areolas and nipples.
"Better tits than any Playboy Playmate, damn, she has big tits. I'd love to see her tits. I'd love to feel her tits. I wish I could suck her tits while fondling her big breasts and fingering her erect nipples," I remembered out loud for no one to hear but me while masturbating.
If only my friends knew that I had such a view from out my bedroom window, they'd be so jealous but not wanting to share Summer with them or with anyone, I didn't tell anyone about my sister's best friend. Then, once, after watching her and my sister for weeks, as if wishing it to happen made it happen, I saw Summer's entire tits, areolas, and nipples, when she moved too fast to jump out of the stinging path of a hornet and abandoned her bra behind. Too quick with her hands for me to see anything, she covered her breasts with her hands but then, while trying to avoid being stung when the hornet chased after her, she ran in circles with her breasts uncovered.
Who wouldn't chase after her? Even the hornet knew enough to chase after her. I'd chase after her too if she was running around in circles topless. I couldn't believe my luck. I couldn't believe my eyes. The right time at the right place, I never would have seen her topless had her screams not alerted me to look out my bedroom window.
Jumping around the backyard screaming as if she was on fire with the hornet flying after her and with her big boobs bouncing, swaying, and jiggling, I couldn't believe my sister's best friend was topless. Topless, topless, topless, it took all the control that I had not to run out there to rescue her from the hornet but I didn't want them to know that I was home watching them. Figuring that I'd spoil them from lying out back for the rest of the summer, not wanting them to be self-conscious about their semi-nakedness for fear that I'd see of them what I shouldn't see of them, I didn't want them to know that I had been watching them. Moreover, figuring that I'd ruin any chance that I may have with her, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable by embarrassing her, I didn't want Summer to know that I had seen her tits.
"Her tits! Her tits! I can't believe I saw my Summer's tits."
If only my sister knew that I had been home and spying on them, peeping on them actually, while masturbating, I'd be in such trouble. Obviously thinking that no one could see her running around the backyard in circles screaming, she no longer bothered covering her big tits with her hands. A sexy sight to behold, I masturbated over seeing her big, bouncing tits for years. Not willing to accept anyone else, it was then that I wanted Summer in my life always and forever.
"Stephen!" I imagined my sister looking at me as the perverted peeper that I was had I gone outside to rescue Summer from the hornet. "What are you doing home? How long have you been home?" I imagined my sister looking from me to look at her best friend still running around the backyard topless and screaming. "Summer! Cover yourself. My brother, Stephen, is here."
"Hi," I imagined saying to her while staring at her beautiful face and nearly naked, big tits.
"Hi," I imagined Summer saying while barely covering her big breasts with her hands again.
"Summer, this is my brother Stephen. Stephen this is Summer," I imagined my sister introducing me to her friend.
"Hello Stephen. Nice to meet you." I imagined Summer exposing her right breast to shake my hand. I imagined Summer looking from me to look down at herself to see all that she was showing and all that I was seeing. Then as a continuation of my sexual fantasy but instead of fantasizing over seeing my sister's tits, I now replaced my sister with Summer in my sexual fantasies. "Do you like my big tits?" I imagined her saying while putting her hands by her side, puffing out her chest, and striking a vogue pose.
"Your tits? I just love your big tits Summer," I imagined saying in return while I masturbated watching Summer still running around the backyard. "You have such beautiful tits."
I remember before being introduced to her wondering what her name was. Someone so beautiful must have a special name. Angelica, Gabriella, Veronica, Victoria, Juliana, or Alexandria, I just knew that it had to be a multi-syllable name, something exotically rare. Then, after my sister introduced me and I learned her name was Summer, imagining my favorite season with her in it the mere mention of her name certainly gave me beautiful images.
* * * * *
Such a long time ago, it's been forty-five years when I first saw Summer. It still seems like yesterday that I saw her for the first time. Yet, even though my life is filled with memories of her at every age and even though I cherished them all at the time, sadly and tragically, I can no longer remember every moment that I had with her. Too old now and too long ago, when I try to remember all that happened during all of those forgotten years, just faded memories that light up before dimming and going dark, I can't possibly piece together every memory of Summer in my life over 45 years.
Where did the time go? Sometimes seemingly if it was all yesterday and sometimes seemingly as if it had been a hundred years ago, it all went by so fast, too fast or too slow depending upon what part of my life it was, the good parts or the bad. Yet, I wouldn't trade one bad day with Summer for a thousand good days with someone else. The only bad part of my life was waiting for Summer to fall in love with me and that wait took forever. Yet, no matter if my life transpired too fast or too slow, I wished I could live it all over again, at least just the parts with Summer.
If I knew then what I know now, my life would have been so different. A lifetime ago, I can't believe it's been four and a half decades since we met. Wow! Forty-five summers of Summer controlling my thoughts and feelings fast forwarded in just a blink of an eye.
I was 18-years-old when I met Summer in the summer of 1968. The first time seeing her was as visually stimulating as was the first time going from black and white to color TV, except for all the green tint, and the first time going from PC-DOS code to MS Windows. By far, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever met. Then, when I saw her tits that fateful day, a sexual overload especially for horny me, I wished I had a Polaroid camera with me at the ready to save the moment. Something to masturbate to instead of just an incomplete memory, I wish I could have captured her topless on film to keep me warm on those lonely nights when she wasn't there in my bed.
A different time back then, if that topless run around the backyard happened today, all that I'd have to do is to pull out my cell phone and video record the whole thing. The video would have gone viral had I dared posted it to YouTube but we didn't even have digital cameras and personal computers, never mind the Internet back then. Other than that one topless recollection of her that I have ingrained in my memory, I would have enjoyed having a photograph or a video of her running around topless in the backyard that day. She was pricelessly funny and excitingly sexy.
"Wow! Seemingly not that long ago, not even in the span of a lifetime, how things have changed from the sixties to today especially with computers and the Internet. With cell phone texting, Facebook, Twitter, and e-mails instead of snail mail, credit cards, debit cards, and ATM cards everything is so instantly immediate. Back then everything was hurry up and wait. Now seemingly, even though everything is so much faster, the spoiled society that we have grown to become, everything today is still too slow and nothing is fast enough when everything is so very much faster than it was forty-five years ago."
Love at first sight, never have I felt such instant and immediate love for anyone in the way that I felt love for Summer. Yet, a love not to be, she was eight years older than me, a huge generational gap at my age. Moreover, she was the best friend of my big sister. Even if she knew I existed as a man instead of her best friend's kid brother, what chance did I have with her? None.
* * * * *
With Simone and Garfunkel's, Mrs. Robinson, playing in the background, years before Richard Gere's movie Gigolo, 'twas a time before older women were so openly, unabashedly, and proudly deemed cougars and younger men were deemed gigolos. The movie, The Graduate, had just been released the year before with Katherine Ross playing the love interest and with Anne Bancroft playing the cougar trying to seduce Dustin Hoffman. As hot as Katherine Ross was in that movie, no comparison, Summer, taller, prettier, and shapelier, was much hotter. Summer was hotter than even Jennifer O'Neill in the Summer of '42 and, much later, hotter than Bo Derek in the movie 10. No woman was better looking than Summer.
So hip and cosmopolitan back then without even realizing it until now, I was in style lusting over an older woman. Looking back, a sexual pioneer, who knew that I'd be such a trendsetter? Not looking to be in vogue, I just wanted Summer. For those who have no interest in older women and/or for those who always wanted to have sex with their mothers, not that Summer was old enough to be my mother, but you've never made love and you've never been loved, until falling in love with an older woman.
Every time Claudia Cardinale kissed someone in Once Upon a Time in the West, I imagined kissing Summer. Every time I watched Jane Fonda naked in Barbarella, even though she was so opposed to the Viet Nam War, I imagined being naked with Summer. The same age as my big sister, Christine, Summer was 26-years-old. I was never really sexually attracted to my big sister, who was a beautiful woman too, any more than a normal brother and sister incestuous rite of passage thing. Not even close, I wasn't sexually attracted to my sister in the way that I was sexually attracted to her best friend, Summer.
Indeed, unequivocally and without qualification, I was sexually attracted to my sister's best friend. Forget the rest, wanting only the best, Summer was the one woman that I so wanted. Summer was the woman of my dreams and of my sexual fantasies, especially after I saw her big breasts that fateful day with her running around the backyard pool screaming while trying to avoid the hornet's sting. Never have I met anyone like her, from the first day that I saw her, I was in love with Summer.
"Summer, Summer, Summer, I want you."
* * * * *
Summer was the kid sister of Christine's steady boyfriend, her intended fiancée, thirty-year-old Hank. With him being thirty-years-old, I remember thinking that he was an old man. A time just after the John and Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King assassinations, the older generation had screwed up our planet, fouled the air, spoiled the water, and murdered our sons in an unwinnable war. Much like other young folks my age, I didn't hold the older generation in high regard. With a lot of changes happening, racism, civil rights, activism, protests, sit-ins, the sexual revolution, and Viet Nam, "Hell no, we won't go!", nonetheless and without a doubt, it was a good time to be alive.
Hank was a natural born leader of men. Yet teasing him as if he was Bunny Rabbit's Captain Kangaroo, Captain Crunch, introduced in 1963, or Captain America, our personal, favorite superhero other than Superman, we used to affectionately call my sister's boyfriend Captain Hank because he was a Captain in the United States Marines. A captain in the best fighting army in the world, when others were protesting against the war, I was proud that my future brother-in-law was a decorated war hero. Even though I was morally against the Viet Nam War, yet still ready to do my duty to God and serve my country should I be drafted, whenever Hank appeared at my house in his uniform, I had the urge to salute him before running off to enlist in the Marines.
'Twas a different time back then. 'Twas a time of cowboy shoot 'em up, war movies, and bigger than life heroes in the likes of John Wayne, Steve McQueen, and Burt Lancaster in From Here to Eternity. 'Twas a time of innocence that's since been lost with assassinations, Watergate, Iran Contras, Florida State voting recount, Bill Clinton, John Edwards, Elliot Spitzer, and Rod Blagojevich political and sexual scandals. Nothing is sacred not even the office of the president of the United States. Living vicariously through my future brother-in-law's military accomplishments, I'd regale all of his battle exploits to my friends as if he was Audie Murphy, a Congressional Medal of Honor winner from World War II.
Classified as 1A in the military draft, the first year of the draft lottery, my excuse not to go to war or flee to Canada, I was glad that I was in college and wouldn't be drafted to fight and die in Viet Nam. It took a special kind of American, a real hero, who'd fight for his country on the chance that he'd never return home to enjoy the fruits of freedom for his bravery. Not a coward, I just didn't want to needlessly die for another political war while my Congressmen sat on their fat asses and collected all the monies they'd steal from making closed door, dirty deals with arms manufacturers and military suppliers.
War was money. War was power. War was posturing, peddling, and pandering their political influence. War was their political machine. War was professed to be good for the economy. A win/win for those in power, war was their hidden agenda excuse and their way to keep the middleclass down and their campaign war chest full.
Nothing more than a boost to the economy and another uptick to the Dow Jones cumulative averages, America going to another needless, endless, and winless war was a monetary gain for those in political and financial power. Given bad information with Cheney pulling all the strings for monetary gain with a multi-billion dollar no bid contract awarded to Halliburton, President Bush waved the American flag as they did when my country bombed Iraq on the pretense that they were responsible for the Twin Towers bombing. They waved the American flag and sent our sons and daughters off to die because Iraq was deemed to have weapons of mass destruction, when they didn't.
The real reason why our sons and daughters needlessly died in Iraq and Afghanistan is for money and oil and not for democracy and freedom. How dare those we put in political office and those who we entrust with political influence and power over our people lie to us to put their wants and needs over our own. What's in it for us when too many of us don't even have a job and those who have a job don't have benefits? While earning less and less, all we do is work and work, while out public servants earn more and more.
* * * * *
A Gung-ho, Annapolis graduate with his mind set for a career not in the military but in the Marines, a much different mindset, Hank served two stints in Viet Nam before being wounded and before returning home to re-up in the Marines to become an undercover CIA, intelligence operative in Laos and Cambodia. Forbidden territory back then, suicide to even be there alone, it would be a political embarrassment if Laotians and Cambodians discovered that America was invading their countries with CIA operatives.
We learned later from his war buddies that leave no man behind wasn't applicable if captured in those countries. He was captured twice and escaped both times on his own and without help from the people who put him there in danger. Expert in martial arts, hand-to-hand combat, and a master in every modern day weaponry, he was a stealth, natural born killer. The best of the best, he was the original Jason Bourne of the 1960's.
Yet, there in my background, my constant foreground, was his sister, Summer. How one sibling could be so deadly and the other sibling so beautiful was oxymoronically wrong. Seemingly as if she had a black belt in martial arts herself or was an American Indian, fluid in motion, liquid in her movements, and light afoot, never hearing her approach or leave, much like air, appearing from out of nowhere, she was just there. Much like her big brother, with her stealth skills of quietly coming and going, had she had her brother's killer instincts, she could have been a Mafia hit woman. Yet more as if she was a prima ballerina, a dancer so light on her feet, she walked as if she floated on air that I wondered if she could walk on water.