Summer loses her virginity, the first stage in her winter of discontent.
*
The first time I fell in love was during the summer, so long ago. I was forced to go to the beach with my parents, up until I was 19-years-old and went off the college. Finally, I had a life of my own. Afraid I'd party with some guy, while they were gone and get me pregnant, they watched over me 24/7. Only, back then, too busy with getting good grades in school, I didn't even have time for a boyfriend. I had a lot of male friends, but no one serious. We all just hung out together at my house, at their house, at the park, and at the mall.
It wasn't easy for them to see me alone without my parents watching but, when they did, my male friends gave me the practice that I needed to transform myself from a girl to a woman. It was fun teasing my male friends, learning from their reactions what guys like, while watching their emotions and feeling their erections grow in their pants by me flashing them some up skirt panty peeks and down blouse bra views. They were always trying to get me to touch the hard lump in their pants, while trying to kiss me and steal feels of my tits and my ass.
The teasing usually ended up in a wrestling match, which I always won, with me pinning them down, while sitting on top of them in the way that Elly May Clampett of the Beverly Hillbillies sat on Jethro. Now, that I think about it, I wonder if they had planned to make me win, all along, so as to get me to sit on top of their cock and give them an oblivious lap dance, especially whenever I was wearing a short skirt. I was so naive.
I remember not wanting to go to the beach with my parents. I remember wanting to go to the beach with my friends. I remember being angry, sad, and miserable that my Dad forced me to go with them. I could be such a bitch, when the mood struck.
"You can bring a friend with you, Summer," said my Dad.
They named me Summer because I was born the first day of summer. Although I'm not crazy about the name, if I had been born in one of the other seasons, my name could have been worse. Fortunately, they didn't think to name me after a day of the week or a month of the year.
"My friends are all going to the beach together today, Daddy. No one will change their plans to have some real fun at the beach to go with you guys to be bored."
"Well, then, they aren't really your friends then because..."
I stopped listening, when he started with, then they aren't your real friends. How many lectures, the same lectures over and again, about friendship, people, and life, must I endure? They don't know anything. After a while, all his lectures morphed into one big, stupid lecture. Yeah, I know all that stuff about friendship, but I know that I'm miserable going to the beach with my parents, when I'd rather go to the beach with my friends.
Wishing I could just fly away, they clipped my wings by treating me like a child and forcing me to go with them. I couldn't even breathe without them checking on me to see if I was okay. Still feeling, as if I was attached to my Mom's belly with an umbilical cord, I felt suffocated. An only child, I still felt like their baby. Constantly watched over by my Dad, I felt like a criminal. Having to go with them, I felt smothered and claustrophobic. They didn't allow me to do anything, back then.
"It's not fair, Daddy," I said stomping my foot and acting like the child they think that I still am and treat me as such. "You don't trust me to do anything. Why can't I stay home alone?"
"Just get in the car, Summer. We're leaving."
With thoughts of running away from home, I took my familiar place in the backseat. At least they weren't singing songs anymore or playing that stupid I Spy game during the drive. They treat me like such a child, when, at 19-years-old, I'm a woman.
Finally, after driving for two, long, boring hours, we get there and the first thing I see is a lifeguard tower. It's difficult not to notice anything new in this little strip of land. Away from the hanging tree branches, the tower was setback from the beach and raised up on a little knoll, so that the lifeguard had a clear view of the water.
When did they do that, I wondered? We've been coming here forever, since I was a baby, and they never had a lifeguard on duty before. Maybe today won't suck as much as I thought it would. Maybe they'll have a hot lifeguard like on Baywatch. I only wished. He's probably some short, skinny, pimply faced boy.
Then, I saw him. Wow! The lifeguard was a hunk. Tall and leanly muscular, he was so handsome in his orange bathing suit. His broad shoulders made his waist look so tiny. Suddenly, I had a fantasy of him rescuing me. With thoughts of his strong arm around my breasts, I imagined him swimming me to shore, before leaning down to kiss me, I mean, give me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Only, with my luck, they probably don't do that anymore because of diseases and just push up and down on your chest. Well, that's okay, too. He can push up and down on my chest anytime, so long as his cock is in between my legs.
"Daddy, look, they have a lifeguard," I said with disinterest, while never removing my stare from the bulge that puffed out his tight bathing trunks. Be still my heart.
"Yeah, a little boy drowned last year and his parents sued the facility," said my Dad shaking his head. "It was very tragic," said my Dad making the sign of the cross.
He was a religious man. A devote Catholic, he would have made a good Mormon or a preacher, if only he could have pulled his head from out of his ass. He was such a hick.
The lawsuit must have taken a toll on the place because the resort was looking a bit run down. The buildings all could use some paint. It was a small beach on a lake, a private resort that had seen better days. They had cabins that people could rent, public dressing cabanas, a few rustic restrooms, and a restaurant with a mini arcade for the kids. Yet, after coming here every year, since I was a kid, I was already bored. It's funny how the place looks so much smaller than how I remembered it. I used to think the beach was huge. Instead, it was tiny.
They didn't even have a pool, just the beach and the lake. The beach area looked manmade and, no doubt, it was. I remember seeing a big truck dumping sand, when we drove up here, before the start of the season, one year. My Dad was enamored with the place and he wanted to see what it looked like without people.
The beach wasn't even that big, about a 1/4 mile long. There was a slide where all the kids played, a raft way out in the middle of the lake, and a buoy further out that roped off their property line. I imagine they didn't want boaters plowing into swimmers.
I laughed remembering that I used to tell the little kids that the buoys were where the shark net was, so that sharks couldn't get through to eat swimmers and bathers. Once in a while, a shark eats through the net and gets someone who swam out too far from shore. Obviously little kids didn't know sharks were only in salt water and not fresh water. Now I wished there were really sharks. At the time, so bored and frustrated, I believed that being eaten by a shark was a better fate than having to go to the beach with my parents.
There was a bench lined boardwalk that strollers could walk out over the water and sit and stare at the people in the water. The bench was always filled with mothers watching their children and grandmothers watching their grandchildren splashing around in the water. With so many people jammed into one little spot on a hot, summer day it was a noisy place to be and I didn't know how anyone could have drown, as there was no place to even fall down without crashing into someone.
The raft was stationary and was made of weathered wood covered with canvas. It was a twelve foot square that comfortably held a half dozen people. Supported by empty barrels that surrounded it, the raft was anchored in water that was about twenty feet deep. Only, once the teenagers hit the raft in the afternoon, there were always a dozen rowdy boys trying to sink it, but no one ever did. For something that looked so weathered, it was sturdy.
With my weight more towards the back of the raft, that part furthest from shore, so long as I stayed where I was, no one could see me from shore. Unless my Dad decided to climb the lifeguard tower to check on me, which I knew he wouldn't because he has vertigo, I could have sex on the raft and he'd never know. I wish. Sex On The Raft, hmm, a good title for a story. I'm an amateur writer, a dedicated journal writer, and my imagination ran wild with my sudden horniness and surge of hormones.
With half sections of tires fastened to the outside perimeter of the float, the raft more resembled a tug boat without a helm, a square barge, really, than it did a raft. If nothing else, it allowed swimmers to rest and catch their breath, before swimming back to shore. Away from the crowd that always massed at the shoreline, it was a great place to get some sun and to jump or dive from to cool off in the water later. Any time I came to the lake with my folks, most people didn't swim out this far and I usually had the raft to myself.
Swimming out to the raft was fun and the first thing that I did, whenever we came here. They'd call me from shore when the food was ready. Before the crowd came at 11am, I'd have a few hours of quiet time.
Hanging out on the raft was my way of getting away from my parents. They knew I was out here. They saw me swimming out to the raft. Neither of my parents could swim and this was my one hiding place to get away from them. The perfect place to hide from the crowd, most of the little kids can't swim out this far and, since I've always been a strong swimmer and, until the mad mob came, I had the raft to myself.
We were the first ones at the lake. No one was here, yet. My Dad liked getting here early, which is why we left the house at 5:00 in the morning to get here by 7am, so that he could scope out the best shady spot to set up his barbeque grille and lawn chairs. Soon, they'd be dribs and drabs of people, before the big crowd came. Then, the beach was so small and so tightly packed with people, it was impossible to walk the length of it without stepping on someone's blanket or towel.
Back then, I remember that I couldn't wait for September to go off to college. Finally, I'd be free of my parents treating me like a child. Finally, I'll have some real freedom. Finally, I could do what I want. Finally, I could drink. Finally, I could get laid.
I remember laying out on the raft and getting some sun, while looking up at the clear blue sky. Feeling a little wicked, feeling a little horny, yet, not having the nerve to go topless, my bikini top was already unhooked and my straps were off my shoulders. The contours of my breasts were the only thing holding on my bra and I could feel my nipples hardening from the warmth of the sun. I was showing a lot of tit, more tit than I ever showed any of my wrestling friends, but it was already getting hot and I was alone on the raft.
The hot sun was making me horny, so I closed my eyes to go with a sexual fantasy, while resting my hand on a spot between my legs, I knew would get me excited. I imagined the lifeguard swimming up to the raft, climbing on, and watching me touch myself without me knowing he was there. I imagined him leaning over me and if it wasn't for the water that dripped from his toned, hard body onto mine, he would have caught me by surprised, when he kissed me.
"What are you doing?" I flicked open my eyes and with my hands against his muscular chest, he was too strong for me to resist. A man not to be denied, he wanted me. He really wanted me. "Let go of me, you brute," I imagined uttering.
Mindful of not wanting to lose my top, I imagined struggling to resist him, as he kissed me again, this time forcing his tongue in my mouth. With a swipe of his hand, I imagined him removing my bikini top and engulfing my B cup breast in his big hand. Then, when he started fingering my nipple, while still French kissing me, is when I could feel myself getting wet, so very wet. When he lowered his head to my breast and took my nipple in his mouth, first one and then the other, I knew that I was his, forever.
