Sunday, 5 April 2015

Blast from the Past: Summer's Dawn


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Joel Summer is six foot of pure sex with close-cropped black hair, dark tanned skin, and a smooth, broad chest with just a thin trail of dark hair disappearing under the waistband of his blue shorts. He plays football, baseball, runs track, and still managed to get good enough grades to get into an Ivy League college. He’s everything I want to be. The high school girls gasp and wet their panties every time he so much as smiles in their direction, so what’s he doing looking at me?

Excerpt:


Surrounded by the excited chatter of my friends, and grateful to be released from the shackles of school for another year, I lean against the railing, tilting my head back to get the sunshine on my face. We do it every year, escaping down to the seafront to get away from the parents’ list of chores. I’m surrounded by my friends, mainly the girls, who have one aim—to watch the high school boys. The other guys in our group haven’t gotten out of bed yet. They’ll join us eventually, clutching their Frappuccino’s and complaining at the early hour. Can two in the afternoon be considered early?
“Here they come!” Ginnie whispers loud enough for the group to hear.
The girls giggle and point excitedly at the group of boys making their way toward us. Ginny forgets herself and squeals loudly. The others all tsk and nudge her. They don’t want the boys to think they’re not cool. Surreptitiously, lip gloss is reapplied and stray bangs are fingered back into place. Everyone wants to look their best for the high school boys, in the hope they might glance over and notice them. As the lone male in the group, I look down and smile into my slushie. If the other guys were here we’d be catcalling and teasing the girls. As it is, I’m not gonna ruin their little fantasy. We’re fifteen. Still kids in their eyes. My girls don’t stand a chance because a few feet from us are a different bunch of groupies; the high school girls. They’re here to watch too, in their short shorts and tops that barely cover their breasts. They primp and preen for the boys who love the attention, flexing their muscles as the high school girls sigh.
Jeez, it’s like a mating ritual. The lions and the lionesses display for each other. Or is it the baboons? I can’t remember. I’ve stopped listening as Miss Ritter blushes her way through sex ed every year.
I’m here because my girl friends don’t want to look as if they’re watching the boys, even though they are, and everyone knows it. Heck, they all watch the boys. My friends tell me I’m there to watch the girls.
“You can stare at Cassandra’s breasts,” Ginny bounces her own meager bust as we meander down to the promenade, our flip-flops loud against the sidewalk.
Cassandra is on the cheerleading squad. She’s real popular with the guys.
I’m more than happy to be there but it isn’t to watch Cassandra bounce her tits at the football captain. I don’t tell anyone because I’m not dumb and I like my face just as it is, but I’m happy to watch the eye candy, only it isn’t the girls with too much makeup and not enough clothes. I’m there to watch the boys. I lean against the notice about picking up dog shit and will my body not to spring another boner as the boys strip off their T-shirts. Most of them eighteen and the start of a summer tan on their whippet-lean bodies, I can see the promise of the men they will become. A few are older, college kids back home for the summer, lording their freedom over the others.
My body reacts instinctively. Give me a break. I’m fifteen. I see a guy in just his board shorts, of course I’m going to pop a boner. I’m trying to play it cool but at this point I can’t turn around, so I concentrate on my icy drink and will my erection away.
“Look at Suzie.” Millie nudges my elbow.
I nearly end up with the slushie down my front. At least that would have tamed my stupid dick. I look over to where the older girls are leaning over the railing. Suzie is pushing so far forward her tits are almost out of her top.
“She’s such a skank,” Millie said scathingly.
I know better than to smile. Millie is wearing exactly the same outfit. She just needs a couple more years to wear it as well.
“She’s just your type,” Millie adds.
I manage to turn a snort into a cough. Just my type? She has got to be kidding. Suzie is nothing like my type. If Millie only knew that the boy she's mooned over for the past two years is exactly my type; tall and dark with puppy dog eyes and a smile that made my knees go weak.
A few of the boys start knocking the ball over the net. There’s a collective sigh from the girls as they watch them play. I can tell the boys are playing to their audience; they laugh, they curse, calling each other names that would make their mommas cuff their ears. It’s all too loud, fake, look-at-me.
“Look at Joel. No don’t look!” Ginny hisses as I turn to look. “He’s watching me.”
Joel? The captain of the football team, Joel? Joel Summer is six foot of pure sex with close-cropped black hair, dark tanned skin, and a smooth, broad chest with just a thin trail of dark hair disappearing under the waistband of his blue shorts. He plays football, baseball, runs track, and still managed to get good enough grades to get into an Ivy League college. He was the Prom King who claimed the prettiest girl in school. He’s everything I want to be. The high school girls gasp and wet their panties every time he so much as smiles in their direction, so what’s he doing looking at a fifteen-year-old kid?
I sneak a peek in his direction, watch him as he hits the ball and that’s when I notice his eyes flitting our way. Our gazes lock. It’s a thunderbolt and lightening moment. An epiphany that shocks every nerve-ending in my body. Ginny is mistaken. Joel is definitely looking our way but he’s not looking at her. Joel Summer isn’t looking at Ginny. He is looking at me. As I stare at him in shock, Joel catches me looking at him and even from here I see the fear.  He looks away, narrowly missing a ball in the chest. The other boys jeer at him and he flushes a deep red.
“He was looking at me.” Ginny sounds awed.
Well fuck. I want to disagree with her, to tell her she’s wrong. I want to claim him. Instead I snort into my drink and hug that moment to myself.
 Joel Summer is gay, and because of that split-second of eye contact he knows I am too. It’s almost scary how excited that makes me.

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