("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
`6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`)
(_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-'
_..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
(((' (((-((('' ((((
K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
_________________________________________
WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
_________________________________________
Scroll down to view text
--------------------------------------------------------
Midnight Swim, by Rajah Dodger - Copyright (c) 2000.
All rights reserved, except that electronic not-for-
profit reproduction rights only are explicitly granted
with the stipulation that this authorship and
permission note must remain attached.
--------------------------------------------------------
Midnight Swim
by Rajah Dodger (rajahdodger@gmail.com)
***
A young man and his girlfriend find time for secluded
get together at summer camp. (MF, rom)
***
Five o'clock. Time to sweep the last customers out of
the store, souvenirs in hand, and call it a day. By the
time Nate and I finished straightening the shelves,
sweeping the floors and balancing the registers it was
just after 5:30. I left him to lock up and I headed off
to the men's dorm, stopping by the refectory to get
some fruit and rolls.
At my room I changed into my swim trunks, threw a baggy
pair of shorts over that and tossed a towel into my bag
with the munchies. The weather was humid and close, so
an early swim for two seemed indicated. But when I
checked the calendar I saw that Sandi was scheduled for
the Bolling jazz suite, so I gave her a mental delay of
game penalty and grabbed a tape player and some tapes
as well.
I wandered over to the concert shell and found a seat
in the big middle. A couple of 12-year-olds were
playing a saxophone reduction of the Gershwin preludes,
notable more for the audacity of the concept than the
execution, and I took a few minutes to scan the
program. Sandi's group was third on the program, then
the Vivaldi concerto for four violins and the last
movement of Schubert's Trout quintet.
After the Gershwin came a woodwind quintet arrangement
of the Candide overture, better realized even if I've
heard that overture a thousand times. The audience
applauded as the piano and trap set were rolled out on
stage, and the trio took their places. The flutist sent
the first strains of cool jazz floating out into the
muggy August air. I enjoyed watching her play - the way
she got into the rhythm, her upper body swaying with
the music.
Her legs were long and strong-looking, cleanly defined
thanks to the camp shorts she was wearing, and the
stiff cloth of her shirt only hinted tantalizingly at
the curves beneath. I can't say much about the pianist,
some guy sporting a Van Dyck beard. Then, of course
there was Sandi. It's always a joy to watch her at
work. Think Tito Puente, only younger and with curves
that move delightfully as she shifts and bounces from
one drum to another.
This was a fun piece at any rate; you could see the
audience smiling and getting into it. Claude Bolling
wrote four jazz suites, but I've always liked the one
for flute and jazz piano the best. I took a bathroom
break when it was over, and returned to my seat for the
Vivaldi. Two of the violinists were college-age girls
and the other two looked like high school seniors in
jean shorts and crop tops; I was enjoying the visual
aspect of the performance as much as the musicianship.
Sandi slipped into the seat next to me midway through
the second movement and we gossiped quietly until the
performance was over.
The concert closed with the Trout quintet. As the
melodic strains of Schubert rolled into the woodland
behind the concert shell, I leaned over and kissed her
soft lips lightly. "Enjoy the performance?," she asked.
"Always - and I liked the music too," I joked. She
poked me in the ribs, then held my hand on her leg as
we listened to the music. I felt the warmth of her bare
skin under my palm, and squeezed her a couple of times,
lightly.
After the concert, we made our way across the quad past
the now-quiet art building. Sandi stopped to peer into
one glazed window; there was a long-standing rumor that
some of the art students had unapproved "private"
modeling sessions after hours. The room was dark,
though, and we continued on down toward the woods with
her arm laced through mine.
There's an inlet off the lake, and a secluded place we
found last year that is just right for swimming in the
late summer. Sandi pulled a beach towel out of her
backpack and I pulled out my cache of munchies, and we
settled down for a byte to eat. When we finished, the
sun was well down and the moon was above the horizon.
Out of nowhere, Sandi spoke up. "You enjoyed the view
at the concert, didn't you?"
I didn't connect with what she was talking about, until
her hand slid out of my palm and onto my leg,
insinuating itself under the leg of my shorts. "A
couple of those violinists were jailbait, hon, in case
you didn't notice." Her fingers had found the crease
where my leg meets my thigh, and my camp shorts started
feeling tight on me. "I didn't think so," she went on.
And with that she leaned over and kissed me.
Kissing Sandi is like eating a full six-course Italian
meal. It takes your entire attention and focus, and
involves your whole body. It felt like hours later when
her lips left mine, and I watched as she unbuttoned her
camp blouse and pulled it off, her white bra gleaming
in the soft moonlight.
"You're overdressed for swimming," she pointed out as
she headed toward the water's edge. By the time I got
my wits together and got undressed, she was already
treading water in the shallows.
"This is a public area, you know," I told her.
"Not after sundown," she replied as I got into the
still-warm water and swum out to meet her.
I stood up in the shallow water and we kissed, ankles
playing against calves, her breasts warm against my
chest. We swam for a bit in the sheltered cove, and
then I found the Pirate's Chair. That was our name for
an underwater outcropping of rock, just at the right
depth for one person to sit on.
I took the seat and urged Sandi into my lap, where we
kissed with urgently dueling tongues while she swiveled
around to find my erection. She straddled me and held
me in her hand as she lowered herself down, until we
were no longer two but one.
We held there for a timeless moment, our breathing
perfectly synchronized, and then she lifted her hips
and sank back down on me in a rhythm older than any
heard in the concert hall. Her nipples tickled my chest
as the water supported her breasts, and I held her hips
tightly as my passion rose to meet hers. When I
exploded, barely keeping my position in the Pirate's
Chair, she came right along with me and we splashed
quietly together in the leaf-mottled light.
When her breathing and mine were back to normal, and
she pulled her face back from mine, I reached up to
brush a damp strand of hair from her face. "You're
beautiful, you know that?" She smiled back at me and
chuckled, "I bet you say that to all the mermaids you
make love to."
She shivered as a breeze whipped across the surface of
the water, and I realized it was way past lights-out.
We made our way with giggles and familiar intimate
touches out of the water, finding our various pieces of
clothing and eventually getting the towel out of my bag
so we'd look presentable when we made it to our
respective cabins.
Sure enough, the camp was dark and still when we made
it back through the wooded path. It was a good thing
they didn't have bed checks in the college-age dorms. I
took her in my arms at the door to her cabin, holding
her gently against me just listening to her breathe.
She gave me a peck on my forehead, and quietly opened
her door just enough to slip inside.
I went back to my own room, the moon and her scent
keeping me company. There's nothing like a summer
night!
END
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 64