The Lakehouse Ch. 01

Bryan Jensen's family built a rustic but spacious house on a lake. His father drafted Bryan to help with the construction so often that we used to joke that he was secretly in the National Guard -- "one weekend a month and two weeks a year." Now that it was finished, we got to reap the rewards of his hard work, as the scattered members of our high school circle gathered there for four or five days every summer. The lot was large enough and wooded enough to provide some privacy from the homes on either side, and the houses across the lake were too far to constrain midnight skinny-dipping.

This year -- my junior year of college -- the crowd proved to be a little thin. Out of over a dozen friends plus some significant others, only eight managed to plan around family trips and internships to make it to our lakeshore reunion.

Bryan was there, of course. In high school he had few friends outside of our circle, and that probably made keeping everyone in touch a high priority for him. He was the self-appointed group organizer, so that even though some of us lived out-of-state, we all knew what everyone was up to and when these little reunions would take place. Before there was Facebook, we had Bryan.

Though a couple of years older than the rest of our group, Keith always seemed happier with us than with his peers. He had mild Aspergers before any of us had heard of the syndrome, but we recognized his quirky humor even if we didn't always get the jokes. Most of us were geeks of one sort or another, and life hadn't quite beaten down our fun sides, so he appreciated our acceptance even as we appreciated him making us feel well-adjusted.

Gina was even older than Keith and hadn't gone to high school with us. She went from acquaintance with similar interests to hangout buddy to an adopted member of our inner circle of friends. She worked at the library while planning for grad school, but that waiting phase already stretched a year. The progress of Gina's life arrested after graduation, and soon her friends would move past her. But this summer she had still tasted more life than the rest of us.

Rebecca was bright but exceptionally shy. While most people completely overlooked the mousy girl, she really opened up when in the company of our close-knit group (though to be fair, she only went from "exceptionally shy" to "fairly shy"). Because she seldom stood up for herself, we all took up for her. In college she had the dreaded freshman experience, losing her virginity to a junior who broke up with her a week after the deed. Everybody else in the group harassed the jackass for the rest of the year, calling him at all hours of the night, plastering rude bumper stickers on his car, even posting photos of him around town ("Jack Spence, gonorrhea test subject: please return to study or forfeit your $25", "Wanted: Jack 'Littlepecker' Spence, for crimes against freshmen girls" ). If one thought of this clique as a family-of-choice, she would be our little sister.

Kristin was a bit of a free spirit. In four years she had made the rounds with all the boys in our cadre, and somehow managed to stay the best of friends with everybody. Much of what I learned about women's bodies, I credited to her.

Rounding out the weekend's participants were Lisa and Marc, who had driven in from out of state. They'd been together since middle school, and everyone expected them to marry before finishing college. Their occasional fallings-out had been the source of much drama within our circle, but at the moment they were happily lost in their own world.

Tuesday

This bright afternoon saw most everyone splashing away around the dock. Lisa and Marc were the only ones absent; because of school pressures, they'd seen precious little of each other for the past month and had hardly left their bedroom since supper last night.

We were in Day Two of the lakehouse retreat. I preferred the second day, as a rule. The first evening was an excited, almost frantic flurry of superficial updates on each other's' lives, and calls of "what should we do first?" By the second day, the initial thrill had worn off, replaced by contentment and a touch of boredom. This was the time of relaxed conversations, deeper delving about life and love, and generally relearning who we all really were.

This afternoon, however, I was feeling restless and not overly sociable. My latest relationship had ended suddenly nearly a month ago, and I wasn't in the mood to discuss it, even with my usual confidantes. I sat on the dock, watching my friends cavort, while Keith -- who didn't like the water -- nattered on about a disagreeable review of his latest favorite sci fi movie. Half listening, I realized that the lovely and barely-clad women in front of me were having an increasingly-visible effect on my body. Draping my towel casually over my arm to cover the embarrassing bulge in my swim trucks, I said, "I think I'll raid the fridge and chill for a bit. See you later."

"Sure," was all Keith had to say, his attention suddenly diverted by who-knows-what was going on in his head. I was thankful he stayed put.

With my flip-flops popping, I walked up the hill and then up the stairs to the porch which ran the length of the back of the house. Near the stairs was the door to my room; Marc and Lisa's room could be accessed from the far side of the porch, and in between the bedrooms was a sliding glass door to the dining room. I ducked into my room and closed the glass door. Without ceremony I kicked away my shoes, shucked off the swimsuit, and flopped backwards on my bed, feeling the sweat chilling in the cool dimness. The vacation retreat was so far under capacity this weekend that everyone who wanted privacy got their own room. Last summer, I shared this room with a girlfriend -- the one who dumped me... No, I wouldn't go there. I pushed her out of my mind and replaced it with images of my nearly naked friends. Especially Kristin. My hands reached down and began to do their work, grasping, tugging, fondling. I imagined Kristin -- with whose firm body I was already intimately acquainted-- joining Lisa and Marc in their hideaway on the other side of the house. I didn't let my fantasy unfold slowly, but cut to the chase; I wanted to finish before people wandered back to the house. If I was lucky, I would have time to cum twice so my cock would behave itself this evening. But first thing's first -- as I pictured Marc taking Lisa from behind, with Kristin underneath them both, I felt the familiar tightening in --

A sound intruded from outside. With the blood rushing in my ears, I couldn't tell exactly what it was. I glanced over at the door. The curtain was half-pulled back -- a careless error on my part. I listened, automatically reaching for a pillow to cover up with. Hearing nothing, I started to return my attention to my growing needs.

And I saw, on the planks of the porch, the damp outline of two flip flops -- formed by a pattern as if someone stood, dripping by the door. Worse, there was a smudge on the glass -- a sunscreen-laced noseprint. Jumping up, I stepped to the door, grabbing a towel off the floor to wrap around my waist. Peeking outside, I saw a light trail of water droplets leading to the sliding glass door to the dining room.

One of my friends had been watching me masturbate. I was embarrassed to say the least, and too unsettled to finish what I'd begun. The person, whoever it was, was in the house -- should I find her (or him?), fuss at the peeping Tom, or apologize and ask them to forget about it? How much could be seen? My room was dim compared to the glare on the deck, but why kid myself? The peeping Tom had stood right in front of my door, peering in; they had to have seen enough to keep their unseemly interest. As I worked up the courage to face whoever it was, thumping on the stairs told me the rest of the crowd was back from swimming. I looked up, but unfortunately I couldn't get a clear enough view through the half-obscured doorway to make out who was there and who wasn't.

I listened to people heading to their various rooms. When I again heard voices in the living room, I put on some cut-offs and a t-shirt, and went out. Bryan was heating the grill, and Gina sautéed some vegetables. By suppertime, even Marc and Lisa joined us, freshly-bathed and looking a suspiciously content.

Throughout dinner, I kept glancing around, searching for a guilty look or knowing smirk. After the dishes were cleaned and the leftovers put away, folks settled in for Trivial Pursuit. In between rounds, I wandered outside to get air, hoping the peeping Tom would corner me and be done with it. The voyeur didn't bite. By the end of the second game, I'd decided to call it a night.

Despite my afternoon's embarrassment (or maybe because of it), by the time I returned to my bedroom I was again hard and aching for release. With the curtain fully closed and the light off, I knew no one could see me now. Dropping my clothes in a pile, I felt my way to the bed and settled in to relieve my need.

I hadn't truly begun when I heard a tap on the glass door. Crap! Not only was I a little addled by lust, but my clothes were on the other side of the room. The curtain was not so tightly woven, and a light would reveal the outline of my nudity to whoever was outside. I stumbled through the dark to the door, keeping most of my body shielded behind it, and opened it just enough to get my face though.

In the bright silver moonlight stood Rebecca, wearing a pale nightshirt.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, concerned but hoping to be left in peace.

"Can I come in?" she replied in a low whisper. I saw her flinch when I spoke; she clearly didn't want to be heard.

"I was just going to sleep," I lied in a quieter voice. "It's not a good time."

"Are you alone?" she asked.

"...Yes."

"Please, Nathan, let me in. I have to talk to you. About... this afternoon."

So that was it. She was the one. I opened the door, still using it as cover. Guided by the shaft of moonlight, Rebecca silently crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. She remained there, with eyes downcast, fidgeting. I closed the door, plunging the room into nearly total darkness. I felt my way to the bed and crawled to the head, leaning against the headboard. Though she couldn't see anything, I still put a pillow in my lap. We sat in silence. Gradually, my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I could just make out her motionless form.

"I'm sorry." She whispered at last. After a pause, she added, "I didn't mean to...look. I came up to get something to drink and I just sort of looked through the door without thinking." By the tremor in her voice I knew she was upset -- probably mortification at what she'd done, or at voicing her deed aloud. "I... couldn't stop looking. I know it was wrong of me. Can you forgive me?" Her plaintive tone melted my heart. 'Becca was a sweet girl, always caring. She was also rather innocent -- the one who had to have innuendos explained, and always turned the cutest shade of crimson when she finally understood.

"'Becca, it's okay. I'm embarrassed, sure, but I should have closed the curtain. I'm more worried about you. I don't want this to be between us." I waited for her to speak.

"Can I ask you something... really personal?" her whisper dropped until I almost lost the gist of her words.

"Considering the circumstances, I don't see why not."

"Why..." she stopped, I could almost hear her struggling for words. "I heard you say you were going up to rest or something. Were you...thinking... about doing that? When you went up?"

I sighed to myself, which she mistook for irritation. I cut off her automatic apology.

"Yes. I haven't been with anyone for a few weeks, and things build up. Watching all you girls swimming around, it just made me need to... let off some steam. You're all are very attractive. It just happens. Don't let it upset you."

"I'm not upset," said the voice in the darkness. "Did you...finish?"

"No. I kinda lost my train of thought after I saw somebody had been at the door."

After a pause, she spoke again, her voice hitching.

"Are... are you... in need now?" What could I say to that? Between the afternoon's interruption and the current conversation, I felt ready to pop.

"Yes. Very much so."

My eyes were adjusting to the darkness; in the filtered moonlight, I saw the faint outline of her face as it turned to me, of her cotton clad body as she eased up towards the head of the bed. My breath quickened. She came to rest beside me and reached out until her hand bumped my thigh. She lay her warm palm against the skin.

"Please," she whispered. "will you let me... help?"

Her tender plea easily overwhelmed any reservations my horny body could muster. I tossed aside the pillow. With maddening deliberation, her hand drifted up my thigh until it wrapped itself around the base of my manhood. Slowly, gently, she moved up its length until her fingers closed around the head. I moaned, softly as I could manage.

"I'm not very good at this. I don't know what I'm doing."

"You're fine, Becca. It feels...very good." Covering her hand with mine, I showed her where and how tight to grasp the shaft, and helped her begin a steady pumping. Already I could feel the tension building. My eyes alternated between watching the girl's quiet concentration and watching the small pale hand gripping my member. The sight only brought me quicker to the finish.

"It won't be long," I murmured. And it wasn't. My breath caught, my body stiffened, and the sharp wave crested.

I sagged into the bed with a ragged exhalation. I could feel the wet splotches on my chest and stomach, and her hand still grasping me.

"Was that okay?" she whispered.

"That was just what I needed. Thank you," I said with a sigh. She said nothing, but held me as I deflated.

"Would you like me to help you?" It seemed proper to return the favor, setting aside the fact I would enjoy exploring her body immensely.

"No, I'm fine," she said quickly, pulling her hand back as if burned. "I've... got to go." She stood soundlessly -- the beds weren't the most comfortable, but they were sturdy and nearly creak-free -- and then paused. I saw the pale figure turn back to me. "You won't tell anyone, will you?"

"It's our secret," I affirmed. I couldn't see, but imagined Rebecca sagging with relief.

"Goodnight," she whispered. "See you in the morning."

Slowly, she opened the door. I watched the silver light spill across her face. Then she was through, and the room went dark again. I was left to clean up and wonder about the implications of what had just happened. The girl who, as far as I knew, hadn't so much as kissed a boy since halfway through her freshman year had come into my room and asked to bring me off. Why? And why me? Answers eluded me until sleep claimed me sometime after midnight.