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Subject: {ASS} Mat Twassel: Lake Jeptha
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Lake Jeptha 
by Mat Twassel 
The best sex I ever had?  We've had so much good
sex.  I guess we've been lucky that way.  Can't I name
a favorite book, instead?  Or a piece of music? I always
like to think the best sex is yet to come.  I like to look
ahead.  But I like to remember, too. 
We were staying at a little cabin on a lake in Michigan.  
Lake Jeptha. Our daughter Annie was about four or five, and 
Laura's parents were along.  They frequently accompanied us 
on summer vacations in those days.  The start was somewhat 
inauspicious--when we arrived, a dark snake was sunning on 
the cabin's porch, right in front of the door.  Laura's mom 
was not pleased.  I was more concerned that one of the 
screens didn't fit right, and mosquitoes could stream in at 
It was probably not a good time for Laura's mom--she was 
upset about her husband's drinking.  He'd promised to stop, 
but she was sure he had several bottles stashed in his 
tackle boxes.   
I'm not much of a fisherman, but I enjoyed being in the 
boat.  Laura's dad took me out one afternoon.  So peaceful!  
The boat drifting through the soft shadows.  Dragonflies 
shimmering in the sun.  Birds twittering in the cool green 
Laura's dad caught several fat fish.  He put them in a wire 
basket which trailed alongside the boat.  My job was to 
watch this fish cage.  I'm not sure what I was supposed to 
look for, but whatever it was, I didn't see it. When we got 
back to our little pier, the basket had opened up somehow, 
and all the fine fish were gone.   
"I was going to let them go anyhow," Laura's dad said, "But 
I wanted to show them to Wiggle."   
He called Annie Wiggle, which was short for Wiggle-Pants, a 
name he had invented.  We called her BooBoo by that time, 
earlier nicknames such as Ooh-Ums and Prairie Puff having 
faded away.  When Richard was born, Laura's dad named him 
Jiggle-Pants.  "Wiggle and Jiggle," he liked to say.  He was 
a nice man.  He's been dead a number of years now--
too much smoking. 
As you might expect, with her parents in the little cabin, Laura 
wasn't too eager for lovemaking.  We did go out on a 
number of long walks around the lake, stopping frequently 
for kisses and such, and we often strolled with our hands in 
each others' pockets.  The strain of ever-increasing desire 
was kind of sweet.  I think Laura got as hot as I did, but 
we didn't actually find a good place for fucking.   
One time I thought we might do it.  While jogging earlier 
that day, I'd spotted a secluded spot out past an apple 
orchard, at least a mile from anywhere.  "There's somewhere 
I want to show you," I told Laura, and we went walking.   
About halfway there a huge storm came up.  It sounded like 
whispering or whimpering at first--we didn't know what it 
was.  And then we could hear the trees rattling and the 
temperature dropped ten, twenty degrees just like that.  The 
sound got louder all the time. Then we could see the leaves 
fifty yards down the path being pelted by the rain, and we 
turned around.   
"Better go back," we decided. About that same instant the 
first raindrops hit us.  For a second we thought, "This 
isn't so bad," and then Whoosh! an avalanche of sharp wild 
water.  We ran.  The rain was almost icy, and it soaked us 
in no time.  We stopped running--just strolled down the 
road--way beyond wet.   
Sometimes lightning cracked, and we shivered, and we tried a 
few kisses that way.  We were still ten minutes from the 
cabin when an old man from a house down the road pulled up 
next to us in his blue Mercedes.  He opened his window a 
tiny crack.  
"Do you kids need a ride?" he yelled.   
It was raining so hard we couldn't hear him at first.  We 
stepped nearer, and he rolled his window down a little more, 
and I'm sure got soaked for his kindness.   
"A ride!" he said, "Come on, get in."   
"Oh no," we answered, "We'd just get your car all wet."  
The wind was howling and we must have looked miserable. He 
insisted, and we felt, I think, that it would be rude to 
turn him down.  So we got in.  Almost immediately the 
windows were all steamed up.  I don't think the man could 
see anything; I figured he'd drive us into the lake.  But he 
must have known that road pretty good--he got us home in 
moments.  It was fun toweling each other off inside the 
cabin, but in a way I regret that the man in the Mercedes 
had come along.   
Sometimes during the days, Laura and I went swimming.  Laura 
did most of the swimming.  She's an excellent swimmer, so 
graceful, smooth, sleek.  She loves the water.  I rowed the 
boat.  I'm almost as bad at rowing as I am at swimming, but 
I managed to keep near enough to her without clunking her 
with an oar, and she swam all the way around the island--
that's probably more than a mile.  Laura was tired but happy 
when she was done.  It was fun helping her climb into the 
boat. She was chattering with cold, and I wrapped her in 
beach towels.  I would have like to make love with her out 
there, but I guess we were nervous about fishermen with 
binoculars, and besides, Laura was a little anxious to be 
getting back to Annie, though in those days Laura's mom made 
a wonderful baby-sitter. 
Annie loved playing in the sand near the dock.  She caught 
tiny frogs--about the size of her fingernails--and she made 
a home for them in a yellow plastic bucket.  Laura's dad 
found a piece of screen for the roof.  Annie picked grass 
for the frogs to feast upon and bed down in come evenings.   
As the week went on, Annie caught dozens of these frogs, and 
she gave them all names.  She pretended, I think, to be able 
to tell them apart.  At the end of the week, last thing 
before we left, she let them go, one by one.  "Be good," 
she said to each one before releasing him into the tall 
The snake that we saw on the porch never came back, but we 
did see another snake, a shrill black water snake, wiggling 
along the top of the water near the pier.  We made sure not 
to tell Laura's mom about that.  The shore there wasn't the 
best place for swimming.  The bottom was squishy soft, and 
tangles of underwater weeds could catch your ankles. 
Laura's mom was sure her toes were getting nipped by fish.  
Mostly she stayed on the shore and shouted softly at the 
dogs which came around to play with Annie. 
The sand was nice though--soft and firm at the same time.  
One midnight Laura and I slipped out for a moonlight swim.   
"Do you think that snake will be around?" I asked Laura.   
"Probably sleeping," she told me, playfully touching my 
penis through my suit, making me instantly hard.   
Our light little words seemed to fill the air, and we 
started whispering. We stepped into the water, teasing each 
other with touches and kisses.  The slightest splashes 
seemed so loud, so noticeable, as if all of nature knew we 
were going to take our suits off.  But we did anyway.  So 
cold--that midnight water; so richly dark and solidly fluid.  
We hugged and kissed and pressed each others' skin, gripping 
now, wanting all of each other, instantly, fully, forever.   
Moonlight gleamed upon the water, and I was sure someone in 
a cabin across the lake could see us clearly, know of our 
nakedness and of our carnal intentions, but I didn't care.  
We scampered up onto the sand, quickly spread a towel.  
Laura lay down, and it didn't take me long to settle myself 
between her legs, to be deeply fully inside of her.   
"You're so beautiful," I said.   
It was true.  The moonlight full on her face was the most 
beautiful thing I'd ever seen.  Never before had we made 
love outside.  It was strange.  And lovely.  Her body seemed 
to be one with the earth.  The give and take of it was so 
special--something completely outside of my experience.   
"Oh, honey," I said, fully losing myself there.  I don't 
usually say anything.  Laura came then, soft as moonlight, 
her sweet tugs pure as perfect song, and I knew we'd made a 
"We should name him Jeptha," I whispered.   
Laura smiled.  I think she knew, too, that she had conceived.
It turned out to be true.  Laura was pregnant.  Alas, she 
miscarried after four months.  Our happiness turned so 
quickly sad.  There was a good and proper ending, though: 
Richard came along late the following October. 
Lake Jeptha 
copyright 1998 by Mat Twassel

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