The Hottest Summer

This is the stickiest fucking summer that I can ever remember. Or maybe it's just because all previous summers I had air conditioning. I don't know. The heat seems a lot more intense when there is no retreat. And there was no retreat in our what it would be a stretch to call a three-bedroom house. The economy was suffering from the war, and no one had any extra money for anything, considering we were a lower middle class family. We sold the window units that used to cool each room way before the morning frost went away. Didn't even think about it then.

Maybe the heat made us delirious. Or maybe it was pure cabin fever. Either way, something had to be to blame. Or maybe growing up in white trash, rural Ohio just makes things like this seem right. Who knows.

I knew Adam before my mom married his dad. We went to high school together our freshman year. He tried to fuck me at a kegger. He played guitar, and I always thought that was sexy. Something about his bluesy, quasi-folk rock struck a nerve some where in my stomach. It was different than the self-pity emo bullshit that emanated through the veins of every teenage boy in eyeliner and girl pants. Looking back, I blame the music.

We got really close not long after our parents moved in together. We already thought of each other as siblings by the time our parents got married. Not long after that, though, the tangible sexual tension became apparent. We shared a bedroom, which was even worse. I would sit and stare at him from behind my computer while he worked on his sultry songs. I would purposely do things to irritate him so he would pay attention to me. It was childish, the way I would pretend to be annoyed and turn my music up as loud as it would go so he would walk over to me and turn the volume down. He had to be very close to me to do this. I did it often.

Around the end of June, when the thermometer began to reach the upper 90's, we fought over who got to push their bed up near the window. We concluded that his futon would be the best option, because it was big enough for us to both sleep in. This was hands down the worst idea ever. It was impossible for either of us to sleep, and we both blamed the heat. Every brush of skin on skin was a mini-heart attack. I slept in the tiniest things I could find, out of pure necessity. And he slept in his boxers. So there was a lot of skin to brush.

We always seemed to find ourselves in very awkward situations, waking up cuddling, or with his boner pressed against my leg. We always tried to laugh it off, but the tension was becoming too thick. We started flirting, a lot more obviously. We even started giving each other "room time" to masturbate. This, was of course, to make sure the other knew what was going on, a kind of opportunity. Testing the waters. I decided to test them even further, by not telling him when I would be, "busy." He walked in on me, and I didn't stop, even though I acknowledged his presence. He watched me for a moment, and then turned and walked out of the room. I smiled and continued, imagining him touching himself in sync with me, and finally working up the courage to reach out his hand and slip his fingers into my quivering pussy. I came with a series of low moans. I opened my eyes and saw him walking back into the room. He must have been waiting until he heard me finish!This little game continued for quite a while, him taking his first turn a few nights later. Only I was a little more courageous than him. He was laying on the futon, stroking his massive dick and rubbing his chest. I laid down on my bed, not slept on in weeks, and joined him. I slid my hand down the front of my jeans, and worked on my clit. Rubbed it in little circles while watching him. "Take your jeans off," he demanded. I did as I was told, standing up and turning my back to him as I slipped my jeans down past my curvaceous hips, and further down over my luscious ass. I pulled my panties down, revealing the slightly lighter skin. As I bent over, I allowed my cheeks to gently spread, showing off my asshole and pussy.

I sat back down on the bed, this time with my legs open over the side. He watched

me as I caressed my soaking pussy, yearning for his cock. So badly I wanted to feel his skin against mine, his cock in the back of my throat. He must have been able to read my mind, because he walked over to me, dick in hand. He stood before me, and I opened my eager mouth. I closed my eyes and waited for his throbbing cock to get shoved down my throat. He grabbed my hair, and... splash. I opened my eyes to see my face and chest covered in his come.

"You're a fucking asshole," I shouted. He laughed hysterically as I threw my clothes on and ran out of the room.

To be continued.