ADVENTURE TO THE LAKE WITH NO NAME

I had a crush on Lauralee ever since the day I met her. Her slight southern accent is one of the things that got me, but also she was incredibly smart. She was one of the few people I could actually apply the label "intellectual."

I had wanted to date her for years, but she always had a boyfriend, and in the few times she didn't, I'd find have a girlfriend. I was just breaking up with one when this story happened. I'd been dating Patricia for about six months. It had gone from hot to horrid fast. We'd hung on by having sex, but essentially, there was none of the underpinnings to make a relationship work. When I had to go out of town for two weeks, Patricia lay into me with guilt. When she saw that it wasn't going to make me cancel my trip, she gave me the ultimatum: If you go, I won't be here when you get back. So I left.

When I returned, I called Lauralee. She had just broken up with her dumb ass boyfriend of the time. For the first time, we were both single and sad and needing a great day. So we jumped in her car with swim suits, a map of the national forest, and a bottle of whiskey.

We drove deep into the national forest, turning off the main highway to a primary forest road, to a secondary road, to a gravel road. Mile after mile, we wound deeper into the forest. It was August and hot. The gravel road kicked up dust. We had our windows rolled down.

On the map, I'd picked out a small, unnamed lake. I had no idea if we could find it, but I had pointed us in the general direction. The road got rougher. The ruts deeper, and finally, we bottomed out in her old beater car. As we stepped out, we stretched our legs and surveyed the situation. We were stuck pretty deep, up to the axle. Still, I wasn't in the mood to be defeated. It was a perfect day and I'd broken up with a girl that had put me down for months and I was tired of feeling bad for myself.

I found a strong stick and began to dig out the mud behind the tires. I knew going forward would only push us deeper, but potentially, if we could get traction, we could roll back up out of the tracks we had just made. So I dug and then rounded up small sticks. I wedged them under the tires, then I had Lauralee gently rock the accelerator as I pushed. After a few fruitless starts, the car popped backwards, caught the sticks under it, and shimmied back up out of the mud and onto hard ground. I stood, panting, with mud flecked across my face. "Let's go swimming," I said, grinning.

When I'd gone gathering dead wood, I discovered that we had, by sheer luck, gotten stuck less than 100 yards from the unnamed lake. Through a bluff of trees, we pushed to the beach. It was a tiny lake, half marsh reeds, and ringed on one side by a mud beach. When we reached it, we cracked out the whiskey and saluted the perfect blue sky, the blue-green lake, our triumph over the mud and our success at finding the unnamed lake. I pulled another swig of whiskey, feeling better than I had in months. She took another pull. And then I did, and she did. We drank and considered our good fortune.

"Turn around," said Lauralee. I turned as she stripped off her clothes and slipped into her suit. I wanted to peek and she knew. She had to have known that I harbored a crush on her for years. We were best friends. We'd sleep over at each others houses, in the same bed even, but never touch. Never cross the line beyond a plutonic hug. We'd been in pajamas together before, but whenever it came time to change, there was always a bathroom and a locked door.

Now, she changed in the wide open. I wished I could somehow snap a picture without her knowing. I wanted--needed--to save this moment.

When she was done, I stripped down to my boxers. We pulled more whiskey to brace ourselves for the mountain cold water and waded in. We could walk out nearly to the middle of the lake before the water was over our heads. The further we went, the deeper the sediment. It squished between my toes. "Eww," she said.

"Here," I offered. I reached out and invited her to hop up piggyback. As I carried her deeper, my feet sank further under our weight. I thought of her in her swimsuit, her barelegs wrapped around my waist. The deeper we got the more I had to bob, the more it threw her body onto me, the more I lost my balance. She shrieked for me not to drop her. The whiskey was taking effect. We'd polished off a good half of the bottle between us. I was suddenly buzzed and barely able to keep moving forward. The water was cold, but had pockets of warm. It was green and smooth on our skin. The sun reflected off the water. Somehow I knew the timing was perfect. I knew that of all the times I could have kissed Lauralee, I had never made the move. I knew if I never did, she would never. I knew if I'd made it at the wrong time, she would have shot me down. Dating Patricia, I had never had lower self-esteem. I decided now was the time. I could be brave. I could dare.

With a deft flip, I tuned Lauralee around, her legs now wrapped around me and crossed behind me, her arms draped around my neck, her face in front of my face. Without a word, I kissed her. She kissed back. We embraced, locked into each other, kissing passionately. Suddenly everything was perfect. Years of frustration laying beside her as if two slumber party friends was finally released. I had found our lake, saved her car, and was the hero of the moment. I knew it couldn't last. We were already dangerously shivering. We held each other closer, still locked in a kiss.

Slowly I began to wade back toward the shore. I knew that as soon as we reached it, something would have to change. I knew it meant my brief moment could end. Maybe all we'd share was one drunken kiss in a lake. As I turned, surveying the trees and the mountain peak, and our clothes and half-empty whiskey bottle on the shore, I decided that whatever happened afterwards would be just fine. The important thing was that I'd finally raised my courage to the point of making a move.

When we reached the shore, I let her slip from my waist. She teetered over to the bottle and took a quick pull, then handed it to me, shaking, her lips blue. I accepted. We then moved together and resumed our hug, as if seeking each other's vital warmth. We resumed our kiss and soon my hands were rubbing her shoulder blades, warming her, and tugging down her swimsuit.

I'd always wondered what Lauralee looked like topless. She often wore thin t-shirts without a bra. I could often see her nipples pressing the fabric. Now, I was hugging her, kissing her, and she was topless. She stepped back, and I got my first, incredible view.

She staggered a few feet away and then yanked off her suit. She almost fell as she squatted. Holy crap. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. For years Lauralee had always been reserved, almost prude about being around me; now she was buck naked in the middle of the forest, squatting in the sand.

When she returned she took my hand to lead me somewhere. With an instant decision, I yanked down my boxers. Now we were both buck naked beside the lake. We walked further up the beach until the wet mud turned to dry sand. I felt self-conscious yet also liberated, walking, hand in hand, out in plain view of the sky, around the corner of the unnamed lake.

Her knees buckled and she landed with a plop on the sand. I stood over her, naked, looking down at her. For the first time in my life, I could get a look at her as I'd always fantasized about. She was sort of a liberal type, didn't wear a lot of makeup, yet she shaved her legs and under her arms, I knew, so I assumed she probably shaved between her legs as well. As she lay on the ground, she comber her curls with her finger. Her curls were thick and almost reddish in color. She looked totally natural with the lake in the background and the jagged line of the forest. She had her eyes closed and continued to brush out the sand from her curls, and then, right in front of me, her fingers began to stroke.

I stood, naked, dumbstruck, as I watched her slowly begin to touch herself. Is this her gift to me? I wondered Is she saying that we will never be together but that we can be maybe be kissing and watching friends? I was estactic that I was not only seeing Lauralee naked for the first time in one of the most beautiful places I had ever been, but I was watching her masturbate.

She broke my trance be opening her eyes, looking directly at me and asking point blank: "So are you going to fuck me now?" Those were her exact words. I couldn't have made it up. I stood a second more, totally unsure of myself.

Then I lowered myself between her legs. I rubbed the tip of my cold-shruken penis on her now wet and warm vulva. Although I had a lot of whisky in my system, I managed to get hard. Pushing in was perfect. Smooth, warm, embracing, welcoming, drawing me deeper.

The funny thing about having sex outdoors is that as you're pumping away, mosquitoes are landing across your back, arms legs, in your ears. A stick is poking and you just want to move a rock really quick. You want to slap the mosquitoes. I was drunk and distracted and intimidated by Lauralee's sudden acceptance. I was fucking her bareback and didn't know if she was on the pill, if I could shoot or should pull out. All these thoughts swirl through my mind as I tried to focus on the fact that I was actually half-laying on Lauralee beside a lake, penetrating her. I pounded away. She wanted it harder and harder.

I knew I couldn't last. Alreadly I had built up from our prolonged kissing in the lake. I had a huge load of cum bursting. With one final pump, I pulled out and sprayed across her belly and chest. She looked at me, eyes bleary, and blinked.

We got up, brushed off. I itched my new mosquito bites, and we walked, naked, my cum drying salty with the lake water on her breasts, my erection now limp but wagging with each step, still slick with her juices, the light of the afternoon already fading, back to our clothes.