Page 4 of That Summer


Font Size:

Yee-haw, motherfuckers.

3

I feltas though I was being sent off to camp.

I’d never been to summer camp before, but having my parents drive me hours away to a farm and then leave me there was how I assumed being driven to camp would feel like, though my parents were staying for the weekend before heading back home.

“I’m so excited to see Deb,” Mother said to Dad as he drove.

“How long has it been?” he asked.

“Well, I haven’t seen her since the summer after we graduated high school. So, that’s …” She was silent for a moment, and I assumed she was doing the math in her head. “Twenty-seven years?”

I knew I was going to help my mom’s friend, but hearing how long it had been since they’d seen each other made me realize that I was leaving one parental roof for another. I was eighteen, but not an adult per se. Maybe it was my fault—Iwasdrinking and driving, but I was tired of being treated like a child. I was a man.

“If only we had Facebook when we were younger, you two could have stayed in touch.” Dad chuckled a little.

“I know. She went off to college in Chapel Hill, and I went off to A&M, and we didn’t speak again until I found her a few years ago on said Facebook.”

“Andwehad so much fun in college that you forgot about her?” Dad smirked.

Yep, everyone in my family was an Aggie except me.Whatever.

Mom chuckled. “Never forgot about her. Just grew apart.”

“This should be fun then,” Dad stated and turned onto a dirt road.

Yeah, real fun.

“I’m excited,” Mom gushed.

I took a deep breath and looked out the window, not listening to them talk anymore about my jail sentence. I knew it wasn’t an actual jail, but we were in the middle of nowhere, and I was going to be stuck for two months doing manual labor.

The dirt road we were driving on led to the farm. When Dad put the Suburban in park, I got out of the backseat and whistled. “Damn, this is nice.”

Across the road of the large house was a lake that had two waterfalls in the distance. It looked like something you’d see in Hawaii or some shit. I’d had no idea that a house or farm like this existed in Texas nor that, for the next two months, I’d be in paradise.Maybe this summer wasn’t going to be bad at all.Didn’t matter what the house looked like because as I stared at the lake, I pictured myself spending all my free time swimming in it.

As I was in the middle of my daydream, I didn’t hear a door open but turned at the sound of a woman’s voice.

“Aimee!”

“Deb!”

I watched as my mother rushed to the woman and engulfed her in a long hug. When they pulled apart, I finally got a look at Deb and almost stopped breathing. How was this blonde babe as old as my mom? She was stunning, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was no older than thirty. She had on jean shorts that showed off toned, tanned legs that went on for miles. She had a nice rack that I’d like to find out if they were real or not. And her face. Her face was perfect. I couldn’t tell her eye color from where I stood or if she had any fine lines. What I could tell was there was no way I was going to look at her as a mother figure even if she was the same age as my mom.

“Deb, this is my husband, Robert, and my youngest son, Blake.”

Dad stepped forward and shook her hand. They exchanged greetings, and then Deb turned to me. She had the most stunning blue eyes, and I knew I was going to be fantasizing about her all summer. Fantasizing about her lips being wrapped around my dick and the look on her face as she comes. Hell, in that moment we made eye contact, I knew I was a goner, and I’d doanythingshe’d ask.

“It’s nice to meet you, Blake. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Deb stuck out her hand, and I took it in mine. It was soft, like fucking silk, and it made my dick twitch as I imagined it working my cock. I’d thought her hands would be rough from all the farming, but they weren’t.

I smiled. “All good things I hope.”

Everyone laughed. Yeah, we all knew why I was here.

She dropped her hand from mine finally. “Besides that you like to drink beer and then drive? Yes, good things.”

“Not my finest hour,” I admitted.