Fog

(Thanks to Sharkie for finding my many typos and other mistakes.)

Standing on

the deck outside the bedroom, I can hear the small waves on the big lake breaking against the sandy shoreline. The moon should be a bit more than half full tonight, but the thin clouds hide it completely just now As I look out I can also see the fog starting to roll in. I notice that part of the shoreline is already lost in the moist, gray blanket with its curtain also damping the night sounds. In the distance I hear a foghorn began to send its low, mournful warning.

I love the fog. In fact, I love many kinds of weather. A gentle, warm spring rain, promising flowers and other new growth. A stiff autumn wind, carrying just a slight chill, driving clouds hard before it, rustling leaves and sending some of their numbers towards the ground. A thick, soft snowfall - as long as I'm inside, preferably with a nice fire even if I do enjoy being out in it sometimes. And a summer thunderstorm. Just the thought of one sends shivers down my back, but shivers of a good nature. I find thunderstorms some of the sexiest weather of all and unless it is a dangerously strong one, they always turn me on.

But I think the weather I love best is a warm night with a cool, moist fog sliding over everything. Shrinking the world to a smaller and smaller space. One occupied by just myself and my lover. Like tonight. I watch the fog roll in and restlessly wait for him to get home. As I pace back and forth letting the world fill my senses, I think back to the first time I met him. It was also in the fog. I remember even further back than that - back to earlier times where fog still played an important roll.

CHAPTER 1

I think

my earliest clear memory is of fog. When I was little we lived in a small town on the shore of Lake Michigan. We didn't live right on the lake, but it wasn't far away. There was a small park on the shore about a half mile from our house. Often we would walk to this park - maybe for a picnic or for me to play on the sand or just for a nice walk. The first clear memory I can recall was when I was about three. We - my mom, my dad and me - had walked down to the park one night after supper. It was probably in late summer or early fall. All I can remember for sure was that it was warm out. I played on the sand while my parents sat and talked nearby. When the sun set we began to get ready to head back home. I remember seeing the fog start to roll in from the lake while we were gathering our things and when we started the walk back, it had begun to come ashore and flow around us. Soon it blanketed everything and it was like walking in a gray world. I was between my mom and dad, each holding onto one of my hands, and beyond them I could see nothing else except an occasional street lamp as we passed by. I think they must have thought that I might be frightened by the fog, but I remember I definitely wasn't. No, it was an exciting new experience. I loved the feeling of the touch of the damp air on my skin and being wrapped in the gray mist, the rest of the world shut out, I even remember when I went to bed that night, after my mom and dad had left the room, I got up and went to the window to look out at the wondrous world of silent, gray mist with the few diffused glowing spots of nearby lights.

As I grew older I came to love the fog even more, and not just the fog itself. There was a fog horn not too far off and on misty nights I could hear its unique, coded call telling any ships where they were and to stay clear of the rocks near the shore. By the time I was thirteen or fourteen, often at night when the fog rolled in and the deep voice of the horn began to send forth its warning, I would lie in bed and just listen. I could see through my window that the world had been shrouded in gray, the mist muffling any sounds but still letting the low tones of the fog horn make their way through. I can't really exactly describe it, but the sound of the horn left a strange feeling, not of sadness or of loneliness as one might imagine, but rather one of contentment and, yes, of security....a warm, safe feeling. I really have no idea why that deep, lonesome sound should induce such opposite feelings, but it always did.

But my experiences with fog weren't limited to bedtime. With the park so close, my friends and I often went there to play. The park had a sand area on the shore but it also had a nice section of thick woods. There were trails going through this but there were also a lot of areas off the trails. Places with trees to be climbed and hollows to hide in. From the time I was much younger - probably eight or so - a bunch of us would often go down to the park to play. We might just play in the sand, building castles and such, or we might take to the woods for hide and seek. By the time we were eleven or twelve we could even go swimming by ourselves as long as the weather was good, the waves small, and no storms expected. If the fog rolled in we had to leave the water but we could still stay on the beach or in the woods. Generally it was the woods. Hide and seek in the woods, filled with the thick, damp, gray blanket, was much more interesting than in clear conditions.

By the time I was a teenager, it was quite common for several of us to spend a sunny Saturday at the park. We'd take a picnic lunch and swim or just lie in the sun and talk, frequently about boys. In fact, I think one of the real reasons we liked to head to the park was to wear our bathing suits and be seen by the boys.

My name is Kristen Blake. I'm not bad looking but I'll admit I'll never be on the cover of Seventeen. I'm five foot, eight, and have dark blonde hair and blue eyes. I've worn my hair down below my shoulders since I was about eight. By the time I was fifteen I was pretty well developed with sufficient curves to show I was a girl, although I wasn't a D-cup - and never wanted to be. I could still wear a bikini without the top falling down and a lot of physical activity kept my ass nice and tight and my legs well toned. Now I'm still active enough that I stay pretty trim and I do enough to keep my muscles in good shape. Maybe my body isn't eighteen any more, but my mind doesn't seem to know that.

When I was sixteen or seventeen it seemed that these trips to the beach were more often with a mixed group of boys and girls or, sometimes, just with one boy. There was volleyball and swimming and lying in the sun and, of course, that gave me an excuse for a boy to rub sun block on my back (or me onto his). Of course, I wasn't the only one doing such things. A sunny Saturday would find a number of couples thus engaged. And when the sun set most of them generally stayed. Sometimes we would have a fire in one of the fire rings provided and cook hot dogs and marshmallows. Sometimes someone would have a player and we'd dance on the sand. The park was open until midnight on weekends and, especially if there was a moon near full, we would extend our party until then.

There were times after dark when someone would suggest some form of hide and seek in the woods. Usually the girls would hide and the boys would seek. These games were generally accompanied by a lot of giggling, surprised cries, and not a few squeals. As would probably be expected, when a bunch of older teenagers got together for something like this, there would be times when a couple might disappear for a little while. I don't know for sure but I don't think there was ever anything more than some kissing and maybe some petting. I don't mean that none of the couples weren't more active, but it seemed to be an unspoken rule that nothing too much would happen at the park. I know that nothing too much happened with me.

Sometimes - especially in late summer or early fall - fog would roll in at dusk and shroud the world in its thick, moist mist. This never put a damper on our activities. Quite the opposite. Our games in the woods seemed so much more exciting to most of us when the fog dampened any sounds and restricted the visible world to smaller and smaller circles. If anything, the squeals increased although they were damped down by the mist. I mean when you are hiding and can see no more than two or three feet and a boy manages to sneak up behind you and suddenly put his hands around your waist, well, the natural reaction is not to remain quiet. (I will admit that usually after that first loud squeal, quiet returned as the couple often merged into a deep kiss. Or two. Or three. Or maybe even more.)

If the fog was thick enough to really obscure vision we sometimes modified our games by each girl carrying a small flashlight. Otherwise it would only be chance that a seeker might find one of us, With the lights there was a little better chance but the seeker still had to be quite close to see even the light.

While we all seemed to like playing our games in the fog, I think it was even more special for me. Especially if I was hiding, the fog flowing thickly around me, I felt, as I have said, secure, safe, enclosed. And the low tones of the fog horn just added to this feeling. Even when I was "found" the feeling was still there. (I'm sure it was noticeable to my finder when he wrapped me in his arms for the kisses.)

CHAPTER 2

I turned

eighteen in January of my senior year. By the time I graduated in June I had been going pretty steady with one particular boy, Eric, for about nine or ten months. Neither of us thought it would be a permanent relationship. We would both be going to different colleges in the fall and expected that we would remain friends but not more than that. But for the present we both were thoroughly enjoying our relationship. As had almost all teenagers, we had discovered the joys on necking and petting. After a date we would often park somewhere and spend a couple of hours in some intense activity, although we were both still virgins. It wasn't as though we planned to remain so forever or anything. We just hadn't decided to take that step.

Surprisingly - or maybe not - we had actually discussed this and even the possibility that we might change that state before leaving for school in the fall. I don't mean to make it sound like this was a purely clinical approach. Not at all. We weren't really nerds, but we were both fairly level headed and looked at the world in a realistic way - at least most of the time. We had agreed that we would not set about and plan "to do the deed" at a particular time. However, we also both agreed that it might happen to be that we would decide to change our minds at some time and, if this did occur, as long as we both wanted it, we could do so without worry.

As part of this I had pretty well decided that no matter what happened this summer I would likely change my state sometime during the coming year. As I said, we were both pretty leveled headed and, along these lines, I had started on the pill in late April. Now, if we did decide to do a little more, there would be one less thing to worry about. (We also knew that neither of us could have any STDs since we had had no other contacts, so that wasn't a major concern either.)

That summer a number of us still met at the beach park for cookouts and games as before. The only real difference was that now most of our group were at least semi exclusive couples. When a girl was caught by a boy, if it was someone other than her regular boyfriend, there would still be some kissing, but not generally as intense. Of course, if it was her boyfriend who found her, it might be a whole lot more intense.

It was

a Saturday in late July. Eric and I had gone to the beach for a picnic lunch and a swim. We wore bathing suits but planned on maybe going somewhere else later, so we had clothes to wear over them. We swam for a half hour or so, ate our lunch and then lay in the sun for another hour or hour and a half. Finally we decided to do something else and I slipped a shirt and shorts over my bikini and Eric donned a shirt and jeans. We hadn't decided just what we wanted to do, so for several minutes we just sat in the car talking possibilities. Finally we agreed on a movie to be followed by a quick supper. Then we would decide if we wanted to do something else.

In a small town there isn't much choice of movies and the two that were available were totally unknown to us. We finally flipped a coin and chose one. It turned out to be a foreign film, a comedy. However, as with a lot of foreign comedies, it was rather on the sexy side with many romantic situations with young, attractive men and woman, often in revealing clothing. Sometimes in even less than that. Anyway, it was actually quite funny and we enjoyed it. But it also had another effect. It left us both rather turned on.

When we left the theater it was still nearly an hour to sunset. We thought about going somewhere for supper and then probably somewhere to park. However, as we talked about just where we might go eat, we found ourselves verbally teasing each other with double meanings and looks that might possibly have melted the plastic in the car. Finally Eric said, "Look, we're both too excited to go in somewhere for dinner. Why don't we pick up a pizza to go and take it somewhere, say, out to Donner's Point, and eat in the car?"

I looked into his eyes and replied, "That sounds like a great idea. But what are we going to do with the pizza?" I added to this by slowly running my tongue around and across my lips.

I could see Eric catch his breath and I suspect I had a good idea of what was going through his mind. After a second, a grin broke out on his face and he said, "I'm not sure about the pizza but I'd bet I can find a use for the bread sticks." He punctuated this by slowly moving his tongue in and out, in and out. Now it was my turn to catch my breath.

We let ourselves cool down for a minute or so while Eric used his cell to call for a take out. For the next ten minutes we let our conversation move to topics without so many double meanings. There was still an erotic excitement, but it was held in the background. We both knew that we'd probably spend some time making out after we ate, but for now we'd hold those thoughts just below the surface.

We picked up the pizza and some drinks and headed for Donner's Point. Donner's Point is a piece of land which juts out into the lake. It is public land, technically a park, but not really developed. There is a gravel road that encircles it just in from the shoreline. The shoreline itself is mostly rugged rocks, but there are two small areas of beach, one with coarse sand, the other small, rounded gravel. The interior of the point is heavily wooded with a couple of trails but otherwise the only development in the park is a single picnic table at each of the two beach areas.

We drove around and parked above the sand covered beach area. This is located near the end of the point and is thus quite isolated. The parking area is off of the road, set back behind a thick screen of trees, and is located some fifteen feet above the water, By the time we stopped, the sun had just set and a nearly full moon was climbing up from the east. The air was still quite warm. It had, after all, been above ninety that afternoon. We were going to eat in the car but I suggested we might want to move outside since it was so nice. I had taken the pizza and Eric had pulled an old blanket out of the trunk and used it to wrap the box to keep it warm. Now we took the blanket, along with the food and drink, down the short trail to the beach area.

This wasn't normally a beach used for swimming or sunning. I had heard that it was sometimes used as a nude beach because of its isolation, but in general there were better places to swim. But it did make a nice picnic area that provided a lovely view, the pleasant sound of the small waves, and isolation, provided by the fifteen foot cliff we had descended.

We spread the blanket, settled cross legged side by side on it and began to finally eat our supper. I was afraid the pizza might have cooled off too much but the blanket had kept it quite warm. While we were eating, Eric and I once again began to verbally tease each other with the result that by the time we had finished the pie we were both quite worked up.

We piled the food to the side and immediately stretched out on the blanket and in seconds were locked into a nice French kiss. Over the next hour we continued to neck and pet, making ourselves more and more excited. It was still quite warm out and while our clothes stayed on, we did somehow seem to find our shirts open, but I still had my bathing suit on beneath it. By then the sun had fully set and not even a red glow remained in the west. However, the moon had risen and, as I said, was nearly full, so the silvery light lit the lake and beach if not the shadowed places along the rocks and in the trees.

We broke from an especially torrid kiss and, with our breath coming in quick, shallow drafts, pulled back slightly, just looking into each other's eyes. I felt Eric run his hand over my shoulder, down my side and on over the curve of my hip. This did nothing to cool me off. Or to cool off Eric, for that matter. I know I was on the brink of making a move to go further and I think Eric was also, but I also think he saw the uncertainty on my face. Either that or he was feeling the same uncertainty himself. For whatever reason he suddenly said, "Want to take a moonlight swim to cool off a little?"

I guess I was a little apprehensive because I immediately agreed. We stood and dropped our shirts and then Eric pulled off his jeans while I removed my shorts, leaving us both in the bathing suits we had been wearing all day.

There was nothing new about seeing each other like this, after all, but maybe the moonlight or maybe just our excited state did seem to have an effect. I looked at Eric. He stood almost six feet tall, medium length light brown hair. He was nicely built with no extra fat and well developed muscles. I knew he had a summer job doing some construction work and it showed in his arms and shoulders. His skin had a slight sheen, either from the warm air or from our earlier activity, and it reflected the silvery moonlight. He, in turn, was staring at me. I know I'm not too bad. I'm not fat but have enough flesh to cover my bones so I'm not skinny. I have blonde hair down to my shoulders, now pulled back in a pony tail. I'm not a double D on top but there is enough there to definitely tell that I'm a girl and my waist is fairly small. I have been told that my ass and legs are pretty good and from Eric's stare I think he agreed with that. The suit I was wearing was not a true string bikini, but it was fairly small. As he looked, I swear I could actually feel his eyes slide over my skin and that seemed to raise my temperature several degrees.

We were both breathing quite rapidly, in short, shallow breaths. I started to take a step towards him and then I think the uncertainty hit me once again and I suddenly turned and dashed into the water. After a fraction of a second, Eric followed and splashed in just a second or two behind me. Lake Michigan is not the warmest even at that time of year and the cool water was almost a shock as it hit me. But it wasn't so cold that I wanted to immediately leave and instead started to swim out for fifty yards or so. Eric is a strong swimmer and was soon right alongside me. We stopped before getting too far from shore and turned back towards the beach, moving slightly more slowly this time.

Here the bottom shelves quite rapidly and we were only twenty feet out when we could again stand. I used my hands to wipe the water from my face and when I lowered them Eric reached and took me in his arms and we came together for a deep kiss. Within a few seconds the lake no longer felt cold. Another few and I was somewhat surprised that the water around my hips hadn't started to boil. My arms were locked tightly around Eric and his around me when his right hand began to slide down my back and was soon cupping my rounded bottom. Eric's hand is sufficiently large that it extended beyond the suit bottom and I was sure that steam should be coming from the points where it touched my skin. His other hand moved from my shoulder downwards and began to stroke the curve of my breast above the small suit top. My own hands dropped and grabbed Eric's ass, pulling him tightly against me. I could definitely feel his hard manhood pressing against me through our suits.