I had been riding for about two and a half hours and my stop was about three or so miles ahead. Since there was no major highway or paved road up to the lake, I'd have to walk the mile or so in. I didn't really mind, I enjoy the woods that surround the lake and it was early enough in the morning so it wouldn't be too hot.
I had packed light. A sort of backpack held everything I had brought and it really wasn't too heavy. Finally I yanked the cord and the driver pulled over to the cut off. I nodded "Yes" when he asked if this was my stop, and then stepped off the bus.
Actually this was a surprise visit. I mean I hadn't seen Randy in about two years and he had no idea I was coming up to the cabin. Well it wasn't exactly a cabin, it was an "A frame," and Randy was up fixing the roof for aunt Bertha.
When I received the email saying that Randy was working on the place, I thought it would be a great surprise. Sort of a reunion if that's the right word for it.
Randy and I had been inseparable right up to graduation. I mean I was a tomboy and he always treated me as his best friend. We always had contests going on between us, or we had some sort of dare between us. If he won, he would strut around like a rooster. That's why his nickname was "Rooster." If he lost, he was a chicken. And I suppose that was sort of appropriate in a childish sort of way.
Two years ago, my mother remarried and we moved away, but the best parts of my life were when I was with Randy. We were inseparable. He was maybe a year younger than I was, but age never figured into our closeness. As children we used to make little forts together, or make a tent in the woods behind the house and camp out and share thoughts or scary stories with each other.
Then as we grew older we promised that we would always stay in touch. He had been awarded a scholarship at a University and I was off to college.
Actually I had a crush on him ever since grade school, but I could never let on. I guess girls mature earlier than boys because he never seemed to be really interested in me as a girl but rather as his buddy.
Well I finally broke down when mom told me that we were moving away and I was frantic to stay. I even begged her to let me stay in town until I had to leave for college, but that wasn't practical. I even asked if I could stay at Randy's house but she sort of frowned on that. I was getting too well developed as a woman for that sort of thing.
Randy and I had always been daring. I mean we would challenge each other to do things and that's probably how I learned a lot about guys. I would listen to the stories the girls would tell each other at parties and sort of envy them in a way. Oh most of their supposed experiences were probably fantasies but still I was curious. You know to be getting ready to leave home and go to college and have no experiences of my own is sort of a downer.
Well to be honest the only times I got intimate with Randy was when we would wrestle. We did that quite a bit. I mean if he had something I wanted I'd wrestle him for it and he did the same with me.
I guess as young adults that was acceptable and we would do that right up until we were separated.
There were so many times that I would have him pinned down and his lips were close to mine and my small breasts were pressed against him, that I wanted to kiss him. Then I would hesitate for fear that our relationship would change. So the most I would do would be to grab his crotch and squeeze.
He would always give in and laugh or something. It was rare that he would do anything like that to me though. Hell I'm not sensitive down there, not in that way.
It was probably just a few days before we moved away that we were arguing over the last bottle of beer and he had me pinned under him. I grabbed for his crotch and he grabbed back.
I wiggled around as he held his hand tightly clamped to my jeans, squeezing my pussy, while I tried to get away, when suddenly I got this tremendous thrill.
Oh I had been masturbating occasionally for almost three or four years and I knew what it felt like to have an orgasm, but never anything like this.
It was so intense that I let out a squeal and began to moan. He thought he had hurt me and quickly let go. Naturally I kept up the pretense that he had hurt me and I got the beer, but I never told him what had really happened.
I went home that afternoon with the most intense need for him that I spent the next hour in the shower with my little lotion bottle. It was empty. It had been for probably a year, but it was plastic and the bottle was rather ornately decorated with swirls all around the outside. I would fill it with warm water and after screwing on the cap, I'd put the domed lid over it. It made the perfect dildo to use in the shower and no one ever suspected.
I must have cum three or four times, but never as intensely as when he had grabbed me down there. I wanted desperately to have him do that to me again but I never had the chance. We left two days later.
To this day I don't think Randy knows that he gave me my first real orgasm or that from that time on I began to masturbate every day while looking at his picture.
I even gave a name to my little lotion bottle, my Randy bottle. I had discovered that simply by pumping it in and out while I played with my clit, my climaxes were a hundred times more intense, and I even began gasping his name out aloud each time I would cum.
By now I had finally reached the lake and the house. Looking across the opening I saw him carrying a bundle of shingles around to the shed in back, and quietly came up behind him.
"Hay. You a Rooster or a chicken today?"
He dropped the stack of shingles and turned. I gasped. My Randy was something dreams are made of. Good looking, broad shoulders and a narrow waist. I was speechless. And I just stood there staring at his bare chest.
"Elli? Oh my god have you ever changed. What happened to my little tom girl? You really filled out. I mean you have curves where there were none before. What are you doing up here?"
I explained about the email and how I wanted to surprise him and decided to come up for a few days.
He took my bag and holding my hand walked me into the house. Now an "A frame house" is generally one large room with a sort of loft up above. Everything is open except for the bathroom which is sort of partitioned off in one corner. He set my bag down and swung me into his arms. A bear hug sort of thing that took my breath away.