Bobby and I broke up at our 1978 graduation. Breaking up stung, because we'd been dating for two years, but it was time. He was headed for boot camp. I was heading for college. Our lives were about to separate. I'd already told him I wouldn't marry him, so it was time to move on. I had my diploma, and I was free. I was a little sad, but not that broken up. I was making the rounds of friends in my cap and gown when I finally caught up with Maggie.

Maggie and I had been friends for years. She was a compact brunette with short hair and a really good figure she dressed to hide under loose, ill-fitting clothing that couldn't quite hide how cute she really was. I was taller and very slim, my dark brown and my skin olive, all from my Filipina Mom. We sank into each other's outstretched arms. Like me, she was headed to college, though out of state. Far out of state, she was headed for Berkeley, but she'd always been a brain.

“So we're finally done,” she said, breathing in my air and clutching me tight, her hands on my back.

“That we are!” I said.

“Are the rumors true?” she asked.

“Yeah, Bobby and I broke up,” I said. “Now he can go after Peggy Johnson free and clear.”

“You don't seem crushed,” she said.

“I'm sure I'll be crushed tomorrow. Tonight we celebrate! You going to Jackson's party?” I knew Maggie did not make a habit of high school parties, but figured for graduation she might make an exception.

She shook her head. “Nope! You know I'm not much into crowds. But call me tomorrow. Let's plan something! Do you still have my number?”

We'd been close once, very close, and then I'd started dating Bobby. So far as I knew Maggie hadn't dated anyone, and I'd begun to suspect why. She hung out a lot in the theater department, and had been tight with Ann Toller until Ann graduated last year and went on to theater school. Ann was really pretty but didn't date either, and I was starting to suspect my friend didn't have much interest in men.

“Unless it's changed I have you in my book. I have a few weeks before I head to France for my summer trip.”

Her eyes lit up. “Did you know my Aunt Ruth left her lake house to me?”

“The one at Clarke Lake?” I'd heard a little about the place, and it sounded really cool.

“Yeah, my Aunt left the whole thing to me. All mine. The rest of my family uses it of course, but it's in my name. We could go out there for a week and hang out. Go swimming and look at the stars. I was planning to go on Sunday but if you're interested.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun.” And it did. It would be good to catch up in a place we could be alone. I really didn't want boys around at that moment. Girl time is valued time, and it was high time I made some. I wanted to fix that oversight before I left for Paris. “I'll talk to my folks.”

“Let me know,” she said. “Can you borrow a cooler?”

I thought about that. “Pretty sure I can. There's a place to cook, right?.”

“It's got everything,” she said. “We can pick up groceries in Piperville. And maybe some wine. They don't card much there.”

“I'd like some wine,” I said, smiling at her. “A lot of wine.”

“Bring money then,” she said. “The more we have the better we eat and drink.” Maggie's family was very well off, but mine wasn't poor. I knew Mom and Dad would want time with me, but you're only young once. I was nineteen and it was time to branch out. A week at Clarke Lake sounded perfect. So we made plans to make it happen.

Maggie showed up at nine on Sunday in her big Oldsmobile Eighty-Eight sedan. It was silver and rust, about ten years old, and drank gas like an alcoholic. On the plus side, Maggie's car was comfy, had a decent stereo and its trunk would swallow a whale. Dad brought out our coolers to join the three Maggie brought. “Are you sure you want to spend a week with her,” he said under his breath while Maggie was talking with Mom. And he was looking right at me as if this was a serious question.

"It'll be great," I said.

Dad shrugged and looked at her. Maggie was wearing a pair of short cutoffs and a sleeveless top that showed off her curves. Maggie looked about as girlie as she had ever looked. I wondered if Dad was ogling and decided I didn't want to know.

“I used to spend a lot of time with her. It'll be good to reconnect,” I said while my suitcase slid into the back seat.

“Okay honey,” he said. And slid my suitcase into the capacious back seat. Mom came over and hugged me too and we hugged before we got into the car and headed down into the country, with Maggie at the wheel, the front bench seat far forward because of her lack of height.

Maggie pushed the road maps and directions at me. “You're navigator,” she said.

“You mean you don't know the way?”

“I sort of do,” she said, “but it's been over a year and I don't want to mess up. I haven't been here since Aunt Ruth died. Dad and Mom were out there a couple of weeks ago and say the place is just fine, but it's been a while.”

“I can understand. It must be tough, I hear she met a bad end.”

“You have no idea,” she said. “Thing is Aunt Ruth was . . . . different,” she said as we headed toward the highway. “I'm different too.”

“Well, I know that,” I said. “We're all different.”

“Are you?” Maggie kept driving and I said nothing. She just drove and asked me about my plans to become a teacher. And she told me about her desire to get an advanced degree in the Classics. “Why else do you think I took Latin in school?”

“I took French,” I told her. “I always knew I wanted to see Paris. If I don't get to teach English, I'll teach French. I want to see the Eiffel Tower and Montmartre! To walk along the Seine, visit Notre Dame and tour Monet's gardens at Giverny. There's an English bookstore there right across the river from Notre Dame. They say Henry Miller wrote Tropic of Cancer there. He met Anais Nin there.”

“You've read her? She writes dirty stories,” Maggie said. And she was grinning at me but curious.

“Mom had a copy of Delta of Venus and Little Birds I found exploring the attic. I had to read it. How did you know about her?”

“My Dad chairs the English Department at U. He and Mom believe everyone should read everything. You've been in our house.”

“Your parents have more books than anyone.” It was true, almost every wall held a bookshelf and they were full.

“My folks would disagree. But their books were a blessing. I'm really lucky because I got to read both Miller and Nin, Cicero and Mark Twain.”

“You've read everybody, haven't you?”

Maggie laughed as we merged onto the interstate. “No one has read everyone. But I love reading so I do it all the time. So what did you think of Delta of Venus?”

“I read it under the covers, and hid it from Mom,” I said. “It's really dirty.”

“Yeah, but did you like it? Feeling dirty?”

I giggled unable to say a thing.

“I liked it too,” Maggie said. “Tell me, what was your favorite story?”

“I'd rather not say,” I said, suddenly embarrassed. I didn't want her to know.

“Well you don't have to tell me, but glad to know I'm not the only dirty book reader here.”

And I laughed a bit nervously. And fell silent for a bit. We stopped at Mcdonald's in Piperville for groceries and got cheeseburgers and shakes to go. Once we refilled the Olds we got back on the road, I asked her if she brought any dirty books with her.

She froze for a moment and said No. She paused for a while. “No, but My Aunt had some stuff though.”

“Oh yeah,” I said.

“I don't know if Dad left all her books there. Knowing him, he probably did. But you might not like her choices.”

“Why not.”

Maggie actually turned at the wheel to look me in the eyes. She looked scared. “Aunt Ruth was a lesbian.”

I shrugged. “I'd heard the rumor.”

“Yeah, well the rumors are true. So be careful what you read.”

“I'll be very careful,” I told her, suddenly curious. But I could see Maggie was nervous, so I let it go.

“So what happened to you and Bobby?”

“You know he asked me to marry him at Christmas?”

Her head flipped at me. “No, I didn't know.”

“I turned him down. I didn't want to get married. We kept it quiet. But after I said No, everything changed. All he talked about was the Marines. Well, he's off to Paris Island next week.”

“So why didn't you? You know, say Yes,” Maggie asked me very carefully as if she was feeling me out.

Answering her “I liked him, but it just wasn't right. He would have wanted me to live on base with him and well, live his life. I didn't want to do that. I want a life of my own before I settle down! And frankly, I thought I could have more than him.”

“You're not wrong there,” Maggie said changing lanes to leave the interstate for a state highway. “Bobby was a nice guy, but not exactly brilliant. You're a lot smarter than he was.”

“Yeah, but he didn't seem to mind that. Most guys do.”

“Almost all of them,” she said as we swept into the right lane. “Check the directions.”

“It says we get off in nineteen miles at Route One-Fifty-Six.” I looked up and saw a sign advertising adult novelties. “Hey would you look at that,” I told her looking up ahead. “Looks like a dirty bookstore.”

“Twenty-five cent mini-movies,” she said. “You ever been in a place like that?”

“Hell no!” I said. “Aren't they full of pervy guys?”

“I don't know,” she asked. “Maybe. But it's daylight. Let's do it.” She moved to the right lane and big old Olds bounced on a pothole and ran up to the side of a small shop with the huge letters 'ADULT' on a billboard placed on the roof. She grinned at me, we got out, and I could feel myself blushing. I was taller than Maggie, and skinner, but I had a decent shape, particularly after the Pill made my boobs grow. I was wearing khaki shorts and a striped t-shirt besides my sneakers and was showing a decent amount of summer skin. No doubt if there were perverts inside, they'd have us mentally naked before the door slid shut. But I wasn't about to back down. I placed myself right behind Maggie and followed her inside.

It was dark inside, but the glass shelves we well lit. There were booths at the back and looked at them but shied away to lean against Maggie, she took my hand in hers. There was a plump middle-aged woman in a booth surrounded by rubbers on the racks. I walked by a box of an inflatable doll in the shape of a 'famous adult film star'. Then I saw an actual sex doll, and my eyes got really big. It looked like a balloon with painted-on features and an empty rubber where the mouth should be. “Guys will actually fuck that?” I said.

“Guys will fuck anything,” said Maggie, and she grabbed my hand. “Come on, I have a couple of quarters.”

“Okay,” I said. I'd never seen porn before, and I really wanted to know. We found a booth and she pulled me in and shut the door before slipping a quarter into the machine. A flickering picture of a tall lean man with a mop of hair, stroking the shoulder of a girl with mountainous boobs taking his cock into her mouth. She got it all the way in and porn-guy was a lot bigger than Bobby.

“Jesus,” I breathed. I had sucked Bobby's cock before but she was certainly better than I was, as she bounced up and down on it for thirty seconds or so until the film shut off.

“You want more of this one or try another?” Maggie asked.

“Let's try another.” She took me by the hand and led me to a booth across the hall. This one had an attractive blonde with two guys. One was holding her head pinned and ramming his cock into her mouth. The other was fucking her from behind a big hairy dude with mustache, big nose, and wiry dark hair. And his cock was huge! He was covered with a sheen of sweat and the woman's boobs were bouncing with each thrust. Finally, he pulled it out and sprayed his cum all over her butt. The guy up front then began to pull his thing out when the picture flicked off.

“More?” asked Maggie, sincerely looking at me as if she wanted to know.

I shook my head. “Maybe one more,” I said, and it was, but in a weird way, it turned me on too. It was crude and stupid and none of the people were terribly attractive, but it was raw and naughty. “Let's see what else is here.”

We popped into a third booth, and this time there were no guys when the film started. Just two women, neither terribly pretty but hardly ugly, lying next to each other on the beach when one of them reached over to touch her girlfriend's pussy through her suit. Maggie let out a deep breath and maybe I did too. We watched as her fingers slid into her girlfriend's suit and start playing with her pussy until the film shut off.

Nobody said a thing for a few seconds. I didn't want to say it, but I was wet.

“Okay,” said Maggie, taking my hand. She had a really pretty smile and she flashed one at me. “Let's go look at the toys.”

“No more love dolls,” I said.

“No way,” she said. “Those are for guys. They make stuff just for girls.”

As we moved into that section the clerk came out to help us, and it was a woman, grey curly hair, some eye makeup. “What are you two girls looking for? Something to share?”

“Maybe,” said Maggie her eyes were narrow and she was grinning. I knew I was probably beet red, but I wasn't running.

“Well, we have two basic families of toys for women, vibes, and dildos.” There were personal massagers that came in boxes with attachments and looked a bit like my dad's electric drill. She opened the box and sold us one. “The Wahl unit is very popular, it has two speeds and comes with several attachments but personally, the bare end is good enough. Just wrap a towel around it. And another under you,” she said with a wink. We looked at it for a bit with very big eyes, but didn't touch.

“What else,” asked Maggie. I was stunned into silence, trying to imagine holding that thing to my pussy. And wondering if I'd like it, which sort of scared me.

“We have a wide line of dildos." She picked up a big pink one that looked like a man. “This one was modeled after John Holmes himself! If you've ever wanted to ride Johnny Wadd, this is your chance. It was pink, it was realistic and it was huge.

“Not really into porn stars,” said Maggie and the saleswoman got it finding us a bright red one made from glass in segments

“This is a model favored by many of the local women,” she said and held it up. It was smooth, if you didn't count the segmented bulging. “The segments add stimulation.”

Maggie took it from her and held it up, examining it closely. “What do you think Emily?”

“It's big,” I managed because it was.

“I thought you liked big boys,” Maggie said with a wink, setting it down. I stood there paralyzed.

The saleswoman picked up and held up what looked like a metal tootsie-roll pop on a large base. “These are our latest in butt plugs,” she said. “Put it in your mouth to get it wet and warm it up then slip it in your backside to get ready for a very special evening. We have lube over to the left if saliva isn't enough.”

I looked at it, considered where it was supposed to go, and froze! I think I just stood there with my mouth open. Maggie picked it up and held the little ball right in front of my lips then turned it to show me the enameled heart base. “That would look cute in her,” said the saleswoman, making me blush terribly.

“It would,” said Maggie grinning. “What about sharing?”

“This is our Double-Dipper,” she said. “it's a fourteen-inch, trademarked double-headed dildo made of flexible rubber so it will conform to you both when you share it with someone special. Then she folded it over so the two ends were almost tight together. “Or you fold it over like that for double the holes, double the fun.”

“How much?” asked Maggie.

“Only nineteen-ninety-five,” she said.

“Wrap it up,” said Maggie. “And a tube of KY too.”

I don't think I said another word until we were in the car and on the road. Finally, I managed. “I can't believe you bought that.”

“Why not?” she said. “Toys are the future. You think only lesbians shop there? Housewives need help too!“

I couldn't say a word.

“You really have a great blush,” she said. “I've never seen you so red.”

“Is that why you bought it? To make me blush?”

She turned and gave me another of her gorgeous grins. “Partly. But either way, I will enjoy it. You might too. I know you're not a virgin.”

“How do you know that?” asked with a snap, even though I already knew the answer. Boys talk because they need to impress their friends.

“Grapevine,” she said. “I hope you brought a bathing suit, though the cabin is private enough we could skinny dip.”

“I brought three bathing suits. Two bikinis and my swim team one piece. Though I got one of the bikinis before I started on the Pill. So the top's probably too tight.”

“I don't anyone is going to complain about that,” Maggie said, turning off on Route 156. “Where do we turn next”

“Five miles down to left on county road 211.”

The rest of the road was a typical back road with lots of curves and elevation changes. Maggie got surprised by a corner cresting a hill and we almost went off, but we got through. The hills and trees were so pretty. We were in the middle of nowhere when we finally found the mailbox painted with the cartoon spy Natasha right after the blue water tower. The driveway was gravel, hilly and long but eventually, it came to a peninsula on the lake, and high above it sat Aunt Ruth's cabin. The house was one story, all in wood with a natural finish brown in color. It looked like it was on stilts with the center enclosed but for a door and had a huge porch, one section of which was screened in. Maggie grabbed her new toy and went up to unlock the house and get everything going. I started ferrying up our coolers so we'd have food and drink to sustain us.

The place was spartan but nice. They had a radio, an old black and white TV, simple couches and tables with a king bed in the common room. There was a small bedroom, but the big bed was in the main room, as clearly this had been laid out for a single with occasional guests. I set our suitcases by the door of that room but decided I'd let Maggie decide where to put stuff. She kept busy arranging and I kept ferrying until everything was inside, then. I walked out on the wide wrap-around porch. The view was fantastic, the sun was still up though setting in red, and I could see sails in the distance and the distant sound of an outboard motor. I could hear Maggie moving around so I went to help her.

She was carrying a footlocker up the stairs and into the house. “Found it!” with a big grin, lifting the lid to peek inside. “Looks like most everything Aunt Ruth left is still here.” She snapped the lid shut as I came closer.

“So what's in the box?” I asked.

“Show you later, Maggie said with a wide grin.

I guessed it held the rest of Aunt Ruth's toy 'collection' so Maggie would have a place to stash her “Double-Dipper”. I found the bookshelves. I didn't recognize most titles Beebo Brinker, Spring Fire, The Rubyfruit Jungle, The Price of Salt, and more. She did have Anais Nin's Little Birds and The Collected Poems of Sappho. I saw Sylvia Plath and the collected letters of Virginia Woolf and more, almost all by women. “Looks like your Aunt was into pulp fiction,” I said picking up a copy of Women's Barracks with a grin, as it showed women changing.

“I told you they might not be for you,” said Maggie. She pulled out two wine glasses and a bottle of rose. We'd bought eight big bottles at the Piperville IGA,

“That's okay, I have my copy of Sho-Gun if I need to read something.”

“You came prepared,” she said pouring me a glass and handing it over.

“I did,” I said, reaching into my suitcase for a small bag of pot and a pipe.

“You too,” said Maggie. She had a bhang and her own stock. “I think we may spend this week pretty high,” she said putting on the local station. Soon ABBA filled the room.

“I didn't come here to be good,” I told her and that really made Maggie smile. I set down the book and took a seat opposite her on the couch, as I filled the pipe, wine on the table. We took a long puff as the music switched to Peter Frampton, She scooted over so I could the smoke into her mouth and she took a turn blowing it into mine. It was . . . . intimate and I felt myself getting warm. It was a simple night. We got high, we drank a bottle of wine, and gossiped about our friends.

The bed in the living room was really big and the one in the bedroom thin. “That's where I slept when I used to visit. Aunt Ruth and Carrie slept in the big bed.”

“Who was Carrie?”

“Aunt Ruth's girlfriend. Of course, we didn't call her that. She was Ruth's 'best friend' or 'roommate.” I nodded and helped Maggie make the beds from linens we'd brought with us and then we went back to partying. I ended up passed out on the couch and Maggie on the bed. And that's where I awoke, rubbing my head.

“Eggs or pancakes,” Maggie said, moving to the stove. I held my head, as it hurt. I wasn't used to drinking wine in quantity.

“Juice,” I declared. “I have a real case of cotton mouth.” The sun was entirely too bright and but slowly my head cleared and I popped up to the sound of frying and the scent of butter. Eggs it would be, with fried toast and jam. I wandered over. “So what's the plan for today?”

“Swimming!” Maggie smiled at me as she broke eggs and the crackling sound of cooking filled the cabin. I found the juice carton and poured us each some OJ.

“Where?” I didn't see any beach and told her so. Beaches have sand.

“Well, it's a lake. The bottom's squishy between your toes but you get used to it,” Maggie said. “Just stay away from any turtles you see. They bite!” And she was already in her suit, a yellow one-piece tied behind her neck. It made me realize just how buxom she was, which was plenty. Her breasts moved just as he did. She give me a big grin as I realized she'd caught me looking.

I hopped up and went to the bathroom to put on my bikini, too shy to change in front of her. I chose the new blue one that better fit my expanded bust. And when I came out I caught her looking as she handed a plate of eggs over easy on toast. The stove was on a center island so I took a stool and began to take delicate bites after adding some pepper and hot sauce, but mostly studied the lake. Maggie sat next to me a few minutes later. “Well, there's a public beach on the other side of the lake, but that's a decent drive away.”

“I guess I can deal with mud.”

“We have an outside shower,” she said, “though I'll have to turn on the water. The water heater had all night to get going so we should be fine.”

“I can shower afterward.” I finished and began to do the dishes, and dried while Maggie went downstairs to attend to the details. She came back up and tossed me a beach towel.

I got suntan lotion out of my pack and followed her down the dock. She stretched out her towel and sat on it, her legs stretched out in the June sun. I handed her the bottle of lotion and then took it myself to spurt some of the white goop in my hands. She watched me with a wry grin as I began to spread it on my arms, face, neck, and shoulders. She did the same. And we pretty much did ourselves until our backs came up. “Get my back, will you,” I asked and handed her the lotion and lay down on my belly

Maggie had small fingers but they were strong. I liked the way she kneaded my flesh. It felt good, nice to be touched in ways no one had touched me since Bobby, even if it was just Maggie. “Better get the back of your legs,” she said, and her thumbs and fingers combined to make me coo softly in pleasure.

“You can keep that up,” I almost said then stopped myself. Instead, I just thanked her and said, “Your turn.”

She lay on her belly and I spurted out some on my hand and began running my hands across her lightly freckled back, trying to imitate what she'd done for me. I got that done and decided her legs also deserved attention, so got some on my hands and began to massage her upper thighs right up to the boundary of her bathing suit. I envied her shape, so much more womanly than my own, Maggie had full breasts and a sweet round bottom. Her legs had muscle tone that felt good on my fingers.

“You could do that to me all day,” she said with a sigh.

“Not all day,” I said with a giggle before putting the lotion away. We lay down on the wooden dock and let the sun bake us. The luffing sound of day sailors. I heard the gulls and the powerboats flashing by, including a couple of boys who wolf-whistled us.

“Don't move,” Maggie said. “They will go away if we don't respond.” And she was right, eventually, they motored off and left us alone.

“Are you sure?”

“That's what Aunt Ruth told me to do,” Maggie said, but her body was trembling.

Unfortunately, they weren't the only boys at the lake. An hour later a loud male voice cried out. “Hey baby, you girls look really hot? What's your names?”

We ignored them. “Come on baby, you know you want a man and here we are!” More male laughter, which chilled me.

I started to turn to face them, but Maggie grabbed my arm. “They want a reaction, you'll only encourage them.”

“If I said you had a beautiful body would you hold it against me,” asked another boy, accompanied by whistles and hoots. And I was starting to get scared, because they hadn't left.

“I got a pole and you got a hole,” said a short fat one. “I can make you scream.”

That did it. I snapped and popped to my feet. “Why don't you dickheads fuck off like the little boys you are!” And I was scared as I called them out. They just laughed.

“C'mon baby, you ain't so bad looking even if you're flat. Show us what you got.”

“Fuck you!” I snapped and headed for the house Maggie got up and flipped them off and went after me.

“Oh, this one's got some titties,” said the first boy.

“Hey titty kitty! Hey titty kitty,” they sang as one. Maggie and I both flipped them off and went back.

“Bitch! You're both ugly anyway,” said Fat Dick, who was pretty heavy for a boy our age. Maggie ran into the house.

“You just ain't had it good,” said the first, a tall blonde guy who was probably somebody's quarterback. “I got just what you need.”

“C'mon, baby, I'll give you the good stuff.” They just didn't know when to quit.

“Fuck off, assholes!” I heard a loud click and saw Maggie behind me bringing up a double-barreled shotgun. My eyes got big. Their eyes got big too! One of them started yanking at the outboard of their boat.

“Fuck off!” said quarterback boy. I heard their outboard wind up and they motored away, yelling now that we were ugly and no one would want us. They called us names, and Maggie kept the gun on them.

Maggie opened the barrels once they were away, safing the gun, and letting it fall. She was shaking, her skin pale and tears poured down her chin. “Fucking bastards!” She clenched her fists in frustration. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her tight to me. She buried her face in my chest and cried. I held her, stroking her hair pressing tight, trying to forget how scared I still was.

She turned and stared at the lake, I could feel her tears on my shoulder. “Guys like them, they're the kind of guys who killed Aunt Ruth.”

“Your Aunt was murdered?” I was shocked. I'd heard she'd died but not how.

Maggie nodded and held me tight. “C'mon, let's go inside and I'll tell you.” She picked up the gun, opened the barrels, and held it in her left hand. In her right she held mine. We went up onto the porch, and she closed the shotgun and set it on the mantle. “It'll be there if we need it,” she said, still looking back out the window.

“You had a gun. You could get in trouble for pointing it at them.”

She shook her head and led me to the couch. “We'll be fine. We're on my land. It was my Aunt Ruth's gun. Too bad she didn't have it with her and Carrie that night.”

“Tell me,” I said. “If it's not too hard.”

“I will,” she said, putting her arm around my waist. “You know there are bars for women like her, . . . and me I guess. Women who are into other girls.”

“I wasn't born in a barn,” I said. “I've heard a little.” Though not nearly enough.

“Well, there's a bar for girls in Watertown called the Bermuda Triangle. It's not in the best part of downtown, but it was for us. Aunt Ruth and Carrie were regulars there. The cops sometimes raided the place when the local preacher got people riled up, but mostly they left it alone. It was the straights who were the problem. Enough straight guys knew about it that once in a while a few got it in their minds all we needed was a good fuck and we'd return to the dick side. One night a few of them decided to put theory into practice. I don't know what all happened, but one night, Aunt Ruth and Carrie didn't make it home.”

“Jesus!” I swore.

“They caught the guys who did it,” Maggie said. “They're in prison for life. But life won't bring back Aunt Ruth.”

I stroked her back and shoulders. Her muscles were tight, drawn tight, and decided to try and copy how my Grandfather used to massage me. Eventually, she relaxed and leaned up against me. I just held her. “So you're into girls,” I asked. “Have you ever actually had sex with a girl?”

“Sure have,” she said. “Ann and I fooled around, which you might have guessed. Plus senior year I took spring break in Florida. I met a girl on the beach, no, a woman actually. She showed me . . . probably not everything, but enough. She was incredible!”

“You still see her?”

“Nope. It was a fling, but oh what a fling! Maybe you'll have one when you get to Paris! They say French boys are better and French girls are Oh-la-la!” She shimmied her hips and her big breasts swayed very noticeably. “What about you? You ever fool with a girl? I know you've fooled with boys if half of Bobby's boasts are true.”

“Did he talk about me?” I said, suddenly very irked.

“My brother said he did some. Said you were an A Number One cocksucker.”

I admit I'd taken some pride, and pleasure, in pleasing him. But I was pissed that he'd said anything about it. That steamed me. “Jesus, I bet he told everyone.”

“He's a guy, isn't he?”

I laughed. Yeah, Bobby was definitely a guy. “Well, to Hell with guys,” I said half-jokingly.

“To Hell with guys,” she said. “So what do you want to do now? I want to go swimming. I don't want to run, but we should hurry. From the look of the sky, we've got a storm coming in.

It was true, the Western sky was looking dark. “Alright,” I said. “I want some of the squishy mud between my toes.”

Maggie grinned at me, took my hand and led me out to the water. The mud was squishy, and the water was cold, but not for that long, and then we were out there. It was odd, rocky on the bottom, but I didn't meet any snapping turtles and soon I dove and began to swim, rolling over on the backstroke and heading out into the lake and switching to front crawl on the way back, but I stayed deep enough that I could roll and not touch the bottom. It was fun as I dove underwater as Maggie waded out, her grin wide and toothy.

“You're a fish!” she exclaimed.

“You know I was on the swim team!” I protested, a bit proud of my swimming even if I'd never been a star in any event. I swam around her, as she sort of dog paddled around her head out of the water. I rolled on my side, dove underwater, and came up to tag her, and in the brown water goosed her.

Maggie gave out a small shriek as I swam a way. “Catch me if you can?”

“Catch swim team girl? Are you kidding?” We laughed and chased for a while and finally Maggie headed back to the shore. I watched her for a while as she rose out of the water, her body shiny, the yellow one-piece clinging to her bottom and almost translucent. Her nipples were stiff and jutted right through the fabric.

I followed her out, suddenly cold as my flesh left the warm water. The outdoor shower was open, just a pipe sticking up on a small wooden deck. Maggie pulled the chain and the water sprayed down on her, making her suit cling to her skin and washing away the brown mud from feet. She grabbed me and pulled me under the water spray and we sort of did a small dance shifting around as the warm water poured down on us. I felt her fingers on my back, and then a finger on my bottom, then her whole hand kneading my cheek. I didn't say a word of protest. She stayed very close for a moment then let go and we took the steps up to the house and our towels. As we did thunder rumbled in the distance, just a weak rumble, but enough to tell us a real storm was coming. We headed inside, and Maggie stripped off her bathing suit right in front of me, eyes looking back at me for a yes/no, and when I reached for my bra strap, she pulled down her suit and stood naked in the room.

She was very curvy, and hairy too. Hairy armpits, hairy pussy, her legs as well but her hair was reddish and fine and did nothing to distract from the shape of her legs. I think she caught me looking, but that made her grin. In return, she watched me as I finished undressing. She watched me the way Bobby watched me when we were getting ready to have sex. I felt myself blushing, because it was obvious she wanted me, and I was starting to wonder if I wanted her too. I stepped out of my bathing suit, hung it on one of the hooks. Maggie went to the bathroom, grabbed her robe, and handed me mine. I felt a bit embarrassed and wrapped it around me and followed her back into the 'kitchen' of what really was a large one-room cabin.

Maggie flipped on the weather radio and grabbed a book from the shelves. I grabbed my copy of Sho-Gun and opened it to my bookmark. And sat down on one end of the couch, with had reading lamps at both ends. Maggie brought me a cup of wine and then sat at the other end and stretched out her legs on the couch, until her feet rested on my lap. The weather radio bleated about a warm front and thunderstorms from six till three in the morning.

“So what do you want to do for the rest of the day?” Maggie asked. “I don't think we're going to go out in a thunderstorm.”

“What's scheduled for dinner? Pork chop night?”

“I want to save those for later. I'm thinking spaghetti. The storm will take down the temperature enough to cook pasta without turning this place into a sauna.”

“Spaghetti it is. Want me to do the salad?" I asked.

“Get chopping, girl,” she said with a grin.

I set down the book and hopped up, stopping to refill both our glasses and going to rinse a bowl and get the veggies and lettuce from the fridge to rinse and peel. I worked in my bathrobe, hair drying as the wind picked up and blew through the cabin, making the drapes flow, Maggie began to work on the sauce, simple and store-bought, as the water began to boil on the stove. I could smell the extra garlic and onions sauteing, plus the crackle of sausages frying as I began to chop the onions to a fine pitch and peel the carrots. We worked quietly together in our robes, by the reading lamps only as the sky darkened and the rain began to steadily fall. But though the wind blew through the smell of Italian sausages rose as she sliced the onion and buttered and diced fresh garlic for the bread. The water began to bubble and boil. As we worked I felt her brush up against me once or twice. I may have brushed back.

I could hear the storm bells ringing across the lake as the wind picked up. Maggie shut off the weather radio, we didn't need to know what was coming. We ignored the coming storm as dinner took shape and rain picked up, steady and inevitable. Maggie lit two candles, and giggled as it seemed like the breeze might blow them out, but they stayed lit. Together we set the small table and sat down to eat. I looked at her across the table. She was smiling, and I think nervous half-silhouetted in the golden light. We didn't speak much, I was nervous, playing with my food, twirling the noodles across my spoon and looking at her. Maggie's robe had fallen loose and her full, heavy breasts shown there in the golden light, and part of me just wanted to go over there and touch them, but I couldn't summon the nerve.

And maybe she couldn't either. We cleaned up, did the dishes, almost in silence, then she asked me if I wanted to watch TV.

“No,” I said, looking at her. “I like thunderstorms, and this isn't the loud and scary kind.”

“Me too,” she said. “Let's just sit in the darkness, get high and enjoy the rain.”

“Perfect,” I said getting us a fresh bottle of wine and heading for the couch. I filled her glass, then mine and sat while Maggie got the pot and rolled a jay. I let her, she was much better at rolling them. She lit the joint, slid close then turned out the light, partly silhouetted in the storm darkness, and sucked in a hit then reversed the joint to blow me a shotgun, her face inches from mine.

She blew and I sucked it in, pulling in the sickly sweet smell of reefer filling my lungs as my hand slipped around her waist. I held the smoke, and released when could hold it no more, then took the joint, sucked into my mouth, and bent over her, my left hand touching her cheek gently, her eyes on mine as I blew. Maggie sucked in the reefer, her chest rising, her breasts so full in the light. We finished it and then set it on the ash tray. I took a drink of wine, suddenly nervous as she curled up tight against me. She laid her head on my right shoulder and draped her legs over mine. I held her, watched her breathe, and felt my own breathing as the buzz of reefer and Maggie's presence flooded my brain. I could feel my sex tingling, my nipples swollen and tender as the world spun to the rhythm of the storm, thunder a low rumble in the background.

Maggie's fingers glided out upon my right thigh, slowly stroking up and down the full length of it. I sighed, but kept my eyes straight ahead at the portrait on the opposite wall, trying to focus on something outside myself. It was of an old farmer, maybe the guy who originally built this cabin, I didn't know, I didn't care, I just couldn't look at Maggie. Her fingers stroked me gently, and I put my hands in her hair, holding to my shoulder. Wet lips kissed my neck, softly, so gently, her face free of stubble, her fingertips gentle and hypnotic, and I held her tight as her fingers kept gliding, rising slowly, moving with each new upstroke a single caress closer to my pussy. I moaned softly, and our breathless sighs were the only sound besides the rain, my chest rose and fell as her fingertip danced Salome's ballet own upon my thigh, making my flesh warm.

Something inside me told me to open my legs. Maggie's short knowing fingers soon found my pussy. She touched me, oh how she touched me! Her fingers never stopped and never hurried; moving up, moving down, her fingertips teasing as she made me burn. Maggie knew, she just knew how to touch me! I didn't have to teach her to take her time, or how hard to touch, and never needed to tell her to take her time. Maggie just understood, her fingertips gently tracing out the outline of my sex. Neither of us said a word. My hips began to rock and I lifted her face to mine to kiss, to press my lips tight to hers, a soft kiss, a gentle kiss, then a hungry kiss of lips so soft and skilled, and her tongue danced so lightly across my own. I held her and kissed her, my lips dripping and drooling as I felt my body and mind spinning with my tongue.

She entered me, her finger first one, no two, two fingers stretching me, opening me, patiently allowing my pussy to spread and glow. “Fuck me,” I whispered, my voice hoarse, afraid to say any more. Maggie smiled up and me and kissed me hard this time, her tongue plunging as deep as her fingers in my pussy, and my body rocking against her, wanting it, wanting more. “Is it always like this?” I asked.

“It gets better,” she said and began kissing my breasts, sucking my now stiff nipples into her mouth and biting them just right, and I wondered how she could possibly know, but she did. And her mouth just kept going lower and then she dropped to her knees in front of the couch and I felt her hot breath on my pussy.

“Someone is very wet,” he said, licking her lips and looking up at me. I just nodded and she dropped her head to me and began to lick me, slowly again up and down, slick tongue upon slicker pussy, teasing out every fold of me, I felt her fingers sticky wet and slipper teasing my asshole and I didn't care, I just didn't care, it was Maggie and she was touching me and if she wanted to touch me this way, well that was what I wanted too! Her tongue glided up my pussy teasing me then circling over my clit and I remember taking her head in both hands and holding it there, tight to my cunt, tight to my pussy gliding on it, my hips pounding and me moaning aloud with each and every flick of her tongue and then I was lost, my dams broke and my body was overcome with the sweetest of spasms as I came with a lover for the first time, decorating her face with fresh juices, my convulsions consumed me and then them restarted again as I felt her fingertip pushing into my ass.

Again I screamed out, lightning flashed, lighting the cabin as she pushed into me and my spasms began all over again, my body slipping and sliding between each eruption and each deep breath until I was spinning away, lost in the storm and in Maggie, her tongue deep in me, her face wet with me, shiny wet and smiling up at me as my body shook and shook until finally, I pushed her away, quivering as I tried to process what I had just felt.

“Need a drink?” she asked.

I nodded in the affirmative and I lay back on the corner of the couch, still quivering, my legs jelly beneath me as she got us a drink. I took a glass and drank deeply, then she drank from it too. I pulled her to me, and kissed her head and cheeks. “Thank you.”

“Oh, we're not done,” she and pushed me down on the couch. She climbed above me then and set her shiny-wet, hairy pussy just above my face.

I didn't have to think as my hands found her hips, squeezed her firm bottom, I delved out between the thatch of soft hair to taste her slit, wet, musky, alive with salt and juices. Maggie cried out as I tasted her for the first time, my tongue trying to imitate what she had done for me, how she had tasted me, I wanted her, I wanted all of it. She pushed my head down on the couch and told me just extend my tongue, so I did and when I did she began to grind her pussy up and down upon me, my nose in her mound, rocking back and forth, my tongue a landing strip for her clit as she ground and ground each one made me want her more until she screamed out her release with hard spasms and a flood of juice poured down upon my face. She kept riding and I kept still, until she was done, and she got off me and then crawled in beside me, both of our chests still heaving as we needed the extra air to breathe. I held her and just listened to her breathe.

“Is it always like that?” I asked eventually, after kissing Maggie again, so softly. So tenderly. I never wanted to stop kissing her.

“That was pretty good,” she said. “This is going to be a fun week,” she said, and I couldn't have agreed more.

“God, I don't want to go to France now,” I said. “I want to stay here with you.”

Maggie nibbled my nose and then kissed my lips with hunger before pulling back to run her finger across my neck. “But I'm told the girls of Paris are Oh-la-la, and you don't want to miss out on that.”

I laughed.”I suppose not,” I said. “Still, you're pretty Oh-la-la.”

“More Oh God, I'm cumming again,” she said. “But I'll take it. Still, Paris. You can't say no to Paris.”

“To Paris,” I said. “Please kiss me in the French style.”

Maggie did exactly as requested. We had a fantastic week trying out the toys Aunt Ruth had left Maggie, including the 'Double-Dipper'. But all good weeks come to an end, and I had my cry on the drive home so I would be ready when I saw my parents again. We both agreed this week was between us alone.

My French trip proved Maggie was right, the girls of Paris were Oh-la-la. I should know. Because I moved in with one. Now I live with my Elena under the shadow of the Cathedral in Metz. I teach English to French children.

And Maggie? She became a Professor of Classics at a major university. We still exchange letters and next summer she and her girlfriend are coming to visit us. Elena says she owes Maggie for turning me. I know I owe her.