We played a game that summer, one both dangerous and arousing. That lake—crystal blue and quiet—held secrets of our trysts, hiding those breath-swallowing moments within the silt and grasses. Every second, every touch and tightening grip, emblazoned itself upon my memory. For he held a power to him, a charisma I could never resist.
Whatever game he created, I would have said yes.
This one took a turn during the heat of July, when the sun sweat circles on our shirts and cooked the water level down half a foot. Dan, with his bright green eyes and daring smile, grabbed my hand before I could dive off the pier.
“How long can you hold your breath?”
About as long as anyone, I presumed, but I shrugged in response, anticipation tingling up my spine.
He leaned closer, a drop of sweat leaking down his temple. I wanted to lick it off, taste the salt upon his skin, flavored with a masculine scent no lake could wash clean. His voice became a deep whisper of suggestion.
“Want to find out?”
I never did need to say yes to him. Not in June when he’d winked at me across the parking lot at the camp ground. Not last week when he’d groped his own crotch when he caught me neglecting my fishing rod in order to stare in his direction. Not two nights ago when he snuck into my tent with a fat stack of condoms and a need that shook his fingers. And not today.
He pushed me off the pier with a laugh, his palms hotter than my skin. I gasped as I hit the water, sending a splash across the pilings. He stood above me when I surfaced, unrepentant and cocky, his hands on his hips. I could stand there, the tips of my toes curling against slick rocks that had already sliced our feet open during our first weeks at the camp.
“I’m going to find out,” he said, then he dropped his hands and stepped forward.
I jerked to the side to avoid getting hit as Dan came leaping into the lake. He didn’t surface after the water splashed against my face, but the lake, as bright as it was on the surface, was nigh impenetrable underneath so I couldn’t see where he’d gone. I fished about, searching for him, anticipating him yanking my shorts or tickling my balls.
Instead, he surfaced near the last piling. Green eyes sparkling as he blinked water off his eyelids, he grinned at me with surefire need on his face. The devil in him, I’d seen it. Loved it. So none of that warning scared me away.
I swam for him, chasing him into the lake. He swam backstroke, laughing at me as I gave chase. A need rose up inside, a need I was familiar with. The same need he had reflected in his eyes. One that shone brightly, brighter even than the sun.
This was us. This is what we had become. Lusty and focused and drawn to dark desires. Continue reading