The Cure for the Summertime Blues

The danger of it, the sense of truly living on the edge, or more accurately, fucking on the edge, added another layer of intense sensations to an already almost impossibly erotic situation. I was fucking his cute ass girl not twenty feet away and she was fucking me back. It was slow, sensuous, relaxed and passionate sex, kissing and sighing and she came more than once. I had just blown a load onto her face so I lasted for some time.

But the sight of her in that half light of late evening, the way her belly button moved up and down with our thrusts, her breasts pushing so proud and firm up at me, the soft light catching in her golden hair, the dip at the base of her throat, her eyes glinting and glowing with lust, I felt...alive. It felt like life had suddenly just started happening for reals, like I'd really started living it instead of just gliding through the days of it.

And the beauty of her orgasms, crying out in that sweet, young, crazy sexy voice, hugging me to her so tightly, her thighs quivering, the seeping ooze of her cum juice, digging her feet into my ass, I wanted to pour every liquid ounce of me inside her.

When I finally came she kissed me through it. And life, the act of living it, suddenly became far more bright, far more intense, much deeper and more exciting and more...more.

In the afterglow, we held that final position for several moments, her thighs holding me like she was riding a stallion, our foreheads touching, sweat pouring off our bodies, panting, and her eyes, those two deep, glowing pools of blue summer sky, holding mine, looking inside me.

"Let's go jump in the lake," she said. And we walked back down the hill to the same rock, naked in the half moon light. It was darker now. The moon barely lit the water all that distance down.

"Dive," she said, and I could see her eyes twinkling with excitement and challenge and pure, reckless fun. With that she took a few steps and threw herself into space. I heard her hit the water, then seconds later, she surfaced and whooped. Without thinking, I followed, four short steps then let my body just do what it had done earlier, dive. This time it was in the dark. I flew through space and it seemed forever before the dark water welcomed me in it's cool embrace, washing away the sweat, the fear, the cum and the craziness of the day.

She was there when I surfaced. She put her arms around me and we kissed.

"Have you ever..." she said, her voice high and breathy, "I mean, have you ever...felt this way?"

"This alive?" I replied, "Nope." We smooched some more, her legs wrapped around my hips, just suspended there in that lake in the soft moon glow.

After we surfaced, I asked her, "Do you mind if I ask you a question?" I was looking up at the stars. I'd never seen so many.

"Anything," she answered, "Ask me anything in the world." She shouted this to the world.

"What's your name?"

"Thelma Louise."

"After the movie?"

"Course. My mom's favorite. I was born on its ten year anniversary."

"What year was that, Thelma Louise?" I had to know if I'd been breaking the law. Didn't want the sheriff on my tail.

"2001," she said, then wrapped those luscious legs around me again, "legal to fuck."

"What do you want to do now?"

She wrapped herself around me and kissed my lips softly. "Never let go."

"Gonna live with my cock in your sweet cunt the rest of my life, then," I growled.

"Mmmm," she hummed, "But let's go on down to the resort and get a burger and fries first."

"We're naked."

"I'll figure something."

And she did. We climbed back up the hill, drove the crappy old car smoking and sputtering down the hill to the resort, and she looked around for a few moments. She spied a couple of abandoned beach towels that we wrapped around ourselves and then we walked over to the burger stand with the other tourists and vacationers. The night was not cooling off much. It was the best burger I'd ever eaten. She coated her lips with ketchup and let me kiss it off. Then I learned that a french fry kiss is something every American should try at least once in their lives.

After, we saw that the resort was showing a movie out back, some old thing. 'I Was a Teenage Werewolf.' We sat in the grass and snuggled through most of it. She managed to get my cock up between her legs and we sat entwined and almost fucking there in the darkness at the edge of the small crowd of movie watchers.

Before the movie ended, I helped her to her feet and we walked to the office. No, they normally would not have had any suites, but we were in luck. They had a late cancellation. Not a premium suite. One of the old camp cabins. I made some phone calls, reassuring folks who'd been expecting me back home, and getting them to put the booking on their credit card. And a six pack too.

I never knew a person could laugh and cum at the same time till I spent a night with Thelma Louise Paterson.

The next morning I drove us into town and we did some shopping at the thrift store. We really looked like tourists then. She talked the clerk, another high school buddy of hers, into giving me some lime green polyester slacks and a truly cool Hawaiian shirt. She got a pair of overalls, farmer style, with a t shirt that was two sizes too small. When she added the goofy sun hat, I wanted to throw her down and fuck her right there. We stopped in a real estate office to borrow some money from another friend, then drove over to the local cafe for a big country style breakfast. Barefoot and brazen.

Bubba was there, well, Billy. He gave us some very threatening looks, but we ignored him. It was a very public place. And, besides, he had himself a new girlfriend.

"Elma Jean is such a slut," Thelma whispered to me, giggling, "She's been waiting for us to break up since sophomore year. And," she giggled, "she hasn't learned yet why they call him L'il Billy."

Her country twang really came out when she exchanged greetings with her fellow townfolk. "Hiya" and "Ain't you lookin' fine" and "Sweet as pie" and such.

She drove me back to Elma Jean's and then sat and she kissed me a long time before letting me get in my beat up but still drive-able BMW. I was getting a signal so I made some calls to explain why I was still upstate, sent a few photos of the mashed rear end.

"Y'all gotta come up for the Fourth," she said as I finally started up the car, "We can watch the fireworks over the lake in my Uncle Frank's rubber raft. Gives a whole new meaning to the word, waterbed."

She was wild about the idea of me coming up and driving her down next weekend for a couple of days in New York City.

But driving away from all that life energy wrapped up in such a crazy beautiful girl was about the hardest thing I've ever done.

Within a few miles I received a text. It was a selfie of her tits. The note said, "the girls already miss the big guy."

And the big guy twitched thinking about it.