Last Day of Summer

750 Word Project 2025

. All characters are 18.

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I was having that dream again. My mind was stuck in that hotel.

It was just past four in the morning. I was still in bed, watching a silent movie, something historical, with feather-hatted swordsmen. The volume was all the way down.

Cara was in the shower. Those three dim bulbs above the sink were the only ones on, glowing orangey-red. There was no bathroom door.

The air was steamy and full of shampoo molecules. Cara's nightie and panties lay on the floor.

She was singing, softly.

I turned to hear her above the spray.

When the water stopped, I could hear clearly. I didn't recognize the tune. It was beautiful. The words didn't sound like English. They might not have been words.

Her feet stepped out of the shower onto the bath mat. The light was behind her, so she was silhouetted.

She didn't towel herself. She made for the toilet, dripping and nude.

Whilst she tinkled, she continued singing, holding out her toenails to examine. After the last driblets, she looked over, finally, and gave me her smile.

"Drop it," I said, when she went for her towel.

She came on tiptoes, aiming to leave no footprints on the carpet, without success. Her drizzling hair, though, left the greater trail of wetness.

She came and stood by the bedside, thighs together, pressing my pillow, monopolizing my vision with belly and bush, still humming that mystery tune.

I kissed her in her third favorite place.

A sob came like a seizure. I nearly choked. I tried to play it off as a hiccup, soaking my cheeks in her belly to camouflage my tears.

Cara and I were a summer thing. Today was the last day of summer.

Her fingertips urged me to roll back and make a ledge.

She threw back the covers, climbed up, and mounted. Before that summer, all she'd had was horseback. Riding was her natural thing.

Her equestrian thighs were shaven, for bathing suit season, and slippery. Her hair blanketed my belly like strands of kelp, fresh from the sea. Her pubes clung together in licks, converging into one thick curl at the bottom, which dribbled onto my chest.

Usually, we kissed. Cara could kiss till our mouths hurt. But I had to be back in Arkansas by seven. My truck awaited. My belongings were already loaded.

I bent my face to her. I needed more camouflage.

She scooted forward, facing the wall, like she liked, dripping her shampooey pube water, now, into my mouth, however, hesitating to settle.

I wanted to caress her serving-spoon breasts, to palm her nipples, and to thumb them, for the last time, probably. I reached, but she swiveled away.

She climbed off me, and on again, backward.

This position was novel. I wasn't sure what to do with my tongue. I went for her clit but got her asshole.

Which was fine. She was clean and coconut-scented.

Analingus was not was she longed for. She was tugging at my boxers, but had no leverage. She had to dismount.

This wasn't our usual order. She got hers first, always. She'd give me, then, a dutiful handjob. I came last, because our religion was patriarchal.

Cunnilingus and handjobs fell short of fornication, according to some interpretations. We stuck to the letter. Cara was very legalistic.

My boxers came off, and she got me sitting, and got beside me, and wet her palm with saliva.

I was crushed I wouldn't get a final taste of her vagina. But she needed more warmup, I supposed.

She liked to kiss the whole time, like it was the main activity. Down to the side, her slobbered fingers groped for my cock and found it. She pumped only once, then relinquished, like she was done with it.

For a long moment, she sat there, chilly.

I was confused, edging toward heartbroken.

Then she asked, "Would you mind if...?"

From the part of her lips and slant of her eyes, I thought I knew what she meant, but I couldn't believe it. Our religion had no such loophole.

I gave her affirmative, but questioning, eyebrows.

She slithered down to prove it. She pushed apart my knees and got between them on her belly.

Just like that, we were fornicating.

Her cocksucking was like her kissing, with the same tongue maneuvers.

She was humming, silently. It was that tune again. I could feel it.

I'd never seen Cara's face look so deeply gorgeous.

Alas, I came too soon.