Page 2 of The Sky in Summer
“Tina.”
“I know a more private strip of shore. Want to take a ride, Tina? On my back?”
“I’d rather ride your front.”
She smoothly flips upright, places hands on my shoulders and wraps legs tightly around my waist. Hello. My dick reawakens to the idea of sex with a virtual stranger. But if ever there was an argument for wearing a condom, this is it. Fucking STDs.
It must have been great not having to think about covering your dick with a tarp every time you wanted to fuck. Back in the free love days, after the invention of the pill and before the proliferation of sexually transmitted diseases. I may be the modern version of that mindset, because I judge Tina as being a risk, while ignoring my own bad behavior. Most likely, we are both whores to pleasure.
Our faces almost touch, and my mermaid knows how to make the best of it. Wet lips part in a come-hither expression.
“Give me a kiss,” she says, keeping my gaze.
It isn’t the easiest thing holding a woman in deep water. Add an attempted make out session and it becomes almost impossible. But Tina doesn’t give a shit about my stability. She ignores any wobbling on my part and lays one on me. Besides that, I’m being squeezed by the vise-like grip around my torso.
What the hell? This isn’t a kiss, more a tongue assault.
“Whoa,” I cough.
“What?” The new harsh tone leaves its mark.
“Just got some water in my throat. Easy, girl. Let’s try it without so much tongue.”
The critique doesn’t go down so well. Her face transforms from temptress to disgusted villain.
“Nobody has ever complained. You too delicate, Mary?”
Oh fuck. This is the unicorn. The one woman in a sea of candidates who I have misread. There is no budding flower here. More like an angry Venus flytrap. I imagine her pussy snapping shut when my dick gets near the nectar.
“Nobody has complained,” I say, using the words against her.
We separate, having come to a mutual misjudgment.
“I’m outta here,” she says, swimming away.
Thank God.
The sound of Teddy’s yell pulls my attention.
“Uncle Van!”
I identify the source of the problem. One of the other kids is holding a hand over his eye. There’s blood dripping down his face and running between fingers. Shit. What the fuck did they do? The other boy watching is looking completely out of his element. My nephews paddle in place, faces clueless. Sam and Teddy are Lyons, which means neither are afraid of anything. At this age it is a negative. It gets them in trouble on a regular basis. Looks like they are out of their depth with this one.
I’m the closest adult and head their way with a kick of my legs and strong strokes. The sound of the panicky voices leads me there in a matter of ten seconds or so.
The kids are talking at once, while the injured teen tries not to panic, and his brother is attempting to calm him too. Identical twins. They look about the same age as my nephews.
“Let me see,” I say to the boy.
“I’m kinda dizzy.”
“Give him an arm,” I say to the brother.
“It was an accident!” the kid’s twin says.
When the hand comes down there is a deep cut running from above the eyebrow across the edge of his eye. An angry bump is rising on his forehead. Head cuts bleed like a motherfucker and his has dripped into the eye. Both are looking directly at me.
“Think it missed the eye. But you have a good cut. Apply pressure. Keep it there. We’ll get you back to shore.”
