© 2017 Chloe Tzang. All rights reserved. The author asserts a moral right to be identified as the author of this story. This story or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a review.
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"Summertime Sadness" was written for the 2017 Literotica Summer Lovin competition. It's probably the fastest I've ever written a story, over the weekend before the competition opened. A couple of days of writing with almost no editing. While it's fictional, it's all very much based far too closely on reality, except of course where it isn't. Really, as I was writing this, all I had to do was close my eyes and go back in time. More than a few readers have commented about the reality of the emotions and feelings and the characters in some of my stories and most of them do have bits and pieces of reality intermingled. This one's more than a little closer to reality than most and it's dedicated to the real "Grant" although it wasn't quite like this. It's a vignette of a moment in time that will always have a place in my heart. It was a different song, the names and the places were different, but almost all the people, the feelings and the emotions were and are very real to me. The end of summer, the sadness of parting, of a love that's coming to an end, of knowing that parting would be forever, that's forever true and that lost love will always be a part of me to remember and to cherish and to smile about and to shed tears over. This one is my reply to your letter. And of course, it's also a story... Chloe
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Kiss me hard before you go
Summertime sadness
I just wanted you to know
That, baby, you're the best
I got my red dress on tonight
Dancing in the dark in the pale moonlight
Done my hair up real big beauty queen style
High heels off, I'm feeling alive
Summertime Sadness" - Lana del Rey
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"Summer's almost gone." I gaze up at the stars blazing across the night sky, throw a pebble as hard as I can, hear the soft plop as it falls into the lake, watch the dark ripples spreading outwards, moonlight and starlight reflected of still waters.
You say nothing as you join me at the waters edge, the blankets you carried laid out on the beach behind us. Your arms slip around my waist, your breath stirs my hair and I lean back against the comfort of your body. We stand there together, both of us looking out over the lake as the ripples spread outwards and die. In the distance, the music from the party increases in volume and now we can make out the words, the song. Summer Love. Justin Timberlake, and I know whose picking the music back there.
"Dance with me?" I smile as I turn, as I take your hands in mine and we're dancing on the beach. Just you and me, slow dancing, eyes only for each other. I reach for you and you come to me, your lips brush mine, your mouth possesses mine as my arms slide around your neck. Your arms enfold me in an embrace I know so well, your face looks down into mine and it seems like that's when you notice my dress, the new red dress I picked to wear for you tonight. You look at my dress and you smile for the first time.
"You're so beautiful, Teresa," you say, and there's a catch in your voice as your hands move to cup my face, to hold me as you kiss me and now we're not slow dancing any more. We're standing in the pale moonlight and we're kissing. You're kissing me, you're devouring me, absorbing me and I give myself to you without restraint, complete surrender, my mouth yours, everything of me yours, as it has been since that first time we made love. Your eyes are sad and the only thing I want to do is to kiss that sadness away.
Without a word your mouth lifts from mine, you take my hand, turn, lead me towards the blankets, we kick our shoes off and your hands unfasten my hair so that it falls loose to my hips, a wave of silk and blackness that shines in the moonlight. I shake it out as you unzip my dress, brush my dress from my shoulders, brush my dress downwards to my hips and my hands do the rest, urging the thin fabric down to fall and pool around my ankles. I'm already naked beneath my dress, my bra and panties discarded before I walked to join you in anticipation of what I know you want from me. What you need from me. What I want to give you. My last gift to you. My parting gift. The only gift I have to give you.
The gift of my love, the gift of my body.
We've done this before. We've done this for five months now, whenever there's been an opportunity. On the floor of your office that first time that Friday night when I was on my way home from High School a few days after I turned eighteen. "My birthday present," I'd said to you afterwards, and you'd smiled and then we'd done it again, more slowly, and then a third time, rushed and hard and I'd told you I loved you.
In my room, on my bed when my parents and my brothers are out. On the back seat of your truck. Down here by the lake now and then, a weekend morning or an afternoon where we'd absconded, no one knowing where we were but us and I never asked how you explained your absences to your wife. Early in the morning when you tell Yvonne you're going jogging and you call me and I slip out my window and we make love inside the garden shed, hidden in the trees and shrubs at the bottom of my parent's garden.
Once, early in the morning, I brought you in through my window. We made love silently in my bed, my family asleep all around us as you took me and the excitement of that, the daring, it'd been exquisite. Not just in my house. In your house too, when your wife's away for a conference or a weekend training seminar, something that happens every month and every time she's away I've come to babysit your kids and I sleep with you.
All night with you is pure bliss, held in your arms. Waking up beside you in the morning. Making love with you in your bed, in the shower in your bathroom. In the Jacuzzi. On the couch after your children are in bed and asleep. On the floor. Bent forward over the breakfast table once, with your children outside in the yard, playing.
Always, always, there's been that knowledge in the back of my mind that this day is coming. This last night before I leave, a last night together and now it's here and I'm naked for you and you're looking at me, your eyes enjoying me, your breath coming faster and I'm smiling. I love you looking at me, love the pleasure you receive merely from looking at my body.
I know everything you love about me, you've told me so many times. My long black hair, my narrow hips and tiny waist, my eyes, almond-shaped, so different from everyone here but my Mom's. My little snub nose, my small breasts, my butt, the pale ivory of my skin where the sun hasn't tanned me. You like that I have almost no body hair and you love that I shave myself for you. You love my nipples and they're already swollen and full as your hands caress me there while I unbutton your shirt. You help me peel it off and then I'm undoing your belt, unzipping your jeans, kneeling before you to strip you naked and your arousal juts stiffly upwards and outwards before my eyes.
I look up at you and I smile as I balance myself with one hand on your hip, the other clasping you delicately in my fingers, stroking you slowly, breathing in that masculine musk that excites me so much that I'm already ready for you, but tonight there's no rush, we have all night and I want this to last. I want to drive you out of your mind before you take me and when you take me, I want that sadness to be forgotten in the madness of your desire and your passion for me.
Your hands reach down to stroke my hair, brush my hair back from my face and our eyes meet. Everything else is forgotten as we look into each other eyes and now you're smiling down at me as I smile up at you.
"I love you, Grant," I breath, my heart wide open, my voice catching. You're not handsome. You're a little overweight. You're not my age. Not even close. You're thirty five and I'm eighteen. You're sixteen years older than me and you're married and you have two young children. You love your wife, you love your kids, you love me and I love you and I'd do anything for you and there's no rhyme or reason to my love for you. It just appeared as if from nowhere and I'd do anything for you. Anything at all and I will tonight and I have all this summer. Whatever you want from me, I give you willingly and with all my heart.
My heart and my body and my love, that's all I have to give you and I give you everything I have. I give you everything you want from me. I give you my love and you take it.
"I love you, Teresa," you say, your voice gentle, your hands gentle for now but I know they won't be for long and I'm shivering with my own excitement and need. "I love you so much."