Love Street Ch 05 "Tracey's Mom" free porn video

"I hear she's a divorcee with a teen-age daughter," Mom hisses to one of her Love-Street friends in a voice dripping with disapproval.

My parents have owned a lakefront cottage in the Love Street development for as long as I can recall. I've spent countless carefree summers here, hanging out with friends and learning to swim and dive and waterski and even navigate the rocks and shoals of adolescence.

This summer, things are different. Life is no longer so carefree.

Yes, I've been accepted at the college of my dreams. But it's come with a stiff price. My first real love, Gretchen, is going to UCLA. I’ll be 3,221 miles away in Cambridge, MA.

I am desperately in of need of a distraction.

So naturally, when a station wagon arrives next door a few days later, I race to offer my help. Tracey, the teenage daughter, returns my smile with a sullen scowl. Not so Tracey's Mom. In skinny jeans with shoulder-length hair and an inviting smile, her sexy vibe completely upstages the daughter.

Laura Wiggins, as she introduces herself, is genuinely pleased when I empty her car. "You must be a chef," I say, making idle conversation as I hoist the last box of cooking utensils onto the kitchen counter. Laura's tight-fitting outfit emphasizes a svelte figure and exposes every curve of her braless breasts. One look and my mojo starts rising.

Tracey rolls her eyes and vanishes into her room.

"Can I help you put any of this away?" I ask, tearing my eyes away from Laura's breasts to refocus on her face. Laura is doing a little visual inspection of her own as her gaze roams up and down my torso.

"Oh, thanks, Jason. I can handle that," she says, smiling flirtatiously with one eye brow raised as if she’s perfectly aware of her innuendo. Especially as her gaze is focused on me somewhere below counter level.

"There is one favor," she adds in a more serious tone with a conspiratorial nod toward Tracey's room. "I guess it's obvious that Tracey isn't thrilled to be here instead of Philadelphia with her friends. Is there anything going on that she might be able to get involved in?”

As she speaks, Laura steps closer to me, casually placing her fingertips on my arm. I can make out the floral scent of her perfume, and for the first time I notice the tip of her tongue darting sensuously across full red lips as she speaks.

I can only think of a truly lame Church Youth Picnic that Tracey would utterly detest, but I offer to take her and introduce her around. Laura thanks me profusely and accompanies me to the door, holding my arm and planting a firm kiss on my cheek.

I leave feeling as if we've been friends forever.

Perhaps it’s my late teen-age hormones, but there’s something downright erotic about Laura Wiggins, especially the way she touches me with what almost feels like a lover's caress. In any event, I have plenty of time to fantasize about her, because I don’t catch sight of Laura or Tracey for several days.

When I do, it’s not at all in the way I was expecting.

I use the little unfinished attic of our cottage as my workout room. Usually, I exercise in the mornings when it’s cooler. But sometimes, if I’m antsy or just plain bored, I go upstairs at night to lift weights for an hour or two. Which is what I’m doing when, out of the corner of my eye, I notice movement in the upstairs window of the Wiggins' cottage.

Is Tracey trying to spy on me from an empty bedroom? I try looking without being obvious about it, but the room is too dark. Then I remember that the crawl space has a vent that overlooks the Wiggins' cottage.

Sure enough, as I peer through the louvers, I see an indistinct figure standing well back from the bedroom window and gazing intently toward my workout room. As my eyes grow more accustomed to the low light, I realized it isn't Tracey at all, but Tracey's mom who is watching from the darkness.

I feel an immediate surge of sexual excitement accompanied by a familiar tingling. I'd recently been introduced to the world of female sexuality, and know that it isn't just teenage boys who get horny as hell. Was Tracey's Mom appreciating my physique? Or something more? Could she be masturbating in the darkness as she watches me work out? I can’t see clearly enough to tell for sure, but I don’t doubt it for an instant.

That though creeps my out for, like, 10 seconds. Then my arousal returns with a vengeance. The idea that watching me could help Laura get off is simultaneously flattering and stimulating. Even if she isn't playing with herself, there’s always the possibility that she will.

I consider walking back into the room and gesturing at my now rock-hard cock and mouthing the words, "I'll show you show mine, if show you show me yours.”

But if Gretchen has taught me anything, it’s the wonders of sensuality. So I return to my workout as if nothing has happened, even though my heart is pounding with excitement. To conceal the fact that my gym shorts are now fully tented, I do five reps of chin-ups facing away from the window. The exertion soaks my shirt with sweat, but takes some of the pressure off the front of my shorts.

After two sets of squats, I slip the shirt off, and sit down to do bench presses. There’s another flicker of movement next door, this time closer to the window. I launch into a new workout routine and between my excitement and the humid night air, my legs and torso are soon shiny with sweat.

It’s time to up the ante.

Standing up, I face the window and pause without looking directly at where I think Laura is standing. My hands are shaking with excitement as I hook my thumbs under the waist of my gym shorts and gradually lower them to the ground. My cotton briefs aren’t especially revealing, but they leave no doubt of my aroused state. I pick up my towel and slowly wipe the sweat from my nearly naked body.

Then, for the first time, I looked directly toward Laura. Is she still there? Has she moved back into the deep shadows? Or has she left the room completely?

I haven’t been this desperately aroused since the first time Gretchen and I stripped naked for each other at the start of our relationship. My month is dry, my pulse is racing, and it seems as if every ounce of blood in my body is rushing to my cock. At least there is no more pretending. Laura has to know that I’m aware that she’s watching.

I hang the towel around my neck and with trembling fingers, slide my briefs down in a slow strip tease. I takes maybe 15 seconds to reveal the white band of skin across my abs, and another fifteen for the first tufts of dark pubic hair to come fully into view. In a single gesture, I push the briefs past my cock and balls and on down my legs until I’m naked.

Another flicker of white fabric tells me Laura is, indeed, still watching, and moving even closer. I let my fingertips glide along my cock shaft, causing it to quiver and stiffen in response, then stand motionless, naked and exposed.

Before I met Gretchen, I never would have dreamed of doing something like this. I would have been mortified, not to mention terrified that Laura would be offended to the point of telling someone. Like my mother.

But among the many things Gretchen showed me is that some women really do get off on seeing naked guys. In Gretchen’s case, her appreciation of my body, when I was erect and horny, was both flattering and arousing. One thing is certain. If Laura Wiggins is watching from the shadows, it’s not because she’s offended.

Knowing that Laura knows that I know she is watching, if you follow me, vastly amplifies my excitement. I fight back a desperate urge to simply grab my cock and stroke feverishly until milky white semen flies everywhere. That would be gratifying, but I want something more than instant gratification.

I want to consciously share this moment with Laura. I want her to come out of the darkness and reveal herself. If I’m lucky, she might even do more than just watch.

I remember there is a small desk and goose-neck lamp in the back of the room. I rotate the lamp until it faces directly at the window, and switch it on, then turn off the overhead light. I’m sure Laura can still see me, but as more of a silhouette.

Will she take the hint and let me see her?

I walk up to my window. Only the glass panes and a narrow strip of lawn separates us. Almost instinctively, I wrap my thumb and forefinger around my cock shaft. And then I wait, with the twitching of my cock keeping time like some erotic metronome.

And wait…

And wait…

Finally, the soft warm glow of an electric lamp fills her window. Laura has thrown some kind of fabric, a pillow case perhaps, over the lampshade, and it gives off just enough illumination for me to see her silhouette walk into view just a few feet from her window.

Laura's fingers go to her neck, then slowly make their way between her breasts. Only when she opens her blouse, do I realize she has been undoing the buttons. As the shirt fall from Laura's shoulders, it’s obvious that her small white breasts are capped with large, dark areola. One hand encircles her right breast, while the other rides the pathway down her stomach and vanishes into the gap between her legs. It’s too dark to see whether she’s completely naked, or still wearing panties. And it doesn’t really matter anyway.

At first, our movements are tentative, almost shy. Gradually we gather speed and pick up on each other's rhythm. Soon, our hands and arms are working feverishly and almost in unison.

Watching Laura masturbate sends fresh shivers coursing along my spine. As my eyes grow accustomed to the darkness, I can see her nipples are taut and pointed slightly upward atop breasts that looked as firm as those of any girl my own age. Her legs are parted for balance with her hips and pussy tilted forward in full view just above the window sill.

I can only guess how I must look to Laura, my untanned cock and groin pale in contrast to my abs and legs and dark bush of pubic hair. Like her, my eyelids must look heavy with arousal as I focus unblinkingly on her face, her tits, and the place between her legs where she is now fiercely finger fucking herself.

For a brief moment we pause and smile, savoring the powerful sexual obsession that captivates us. Soon, I’m jerking again, rocking my hips and pounding the full length of my cock at maximum speed. I feel the tell-tale tingle that is prelude to an orgasm and try to fight it back, giving Laura time to peak with me.

I needn’t worry. An instant later, Laura's back arches, her head rolls, and her entire body freezes in a portrait of feminine ecstasy. I wait until her shoulders relax and her eyes flutter open, then step forward until my cock almost touches the glass.

Her gaze is steadily fixed on my cock as I stroke myself with renewed intensity. Within seconds it’s all too much. My balls tighten in the final rush to climax and my heart feels as if it‘s about to leap from my chest. Laura smiles knowingly, as if she understands every confused sensation that is coursing through my body. Then she forms her lips into a suggestive little "O" and sucks on her finger with a defiantly sexual gesture that hurls me over the edge. I arch my back and pump my cock until my fingers became nothing but a furious blur.

The first explosion is so strong I have to grab the window sash to keep from collapsing to my knees. Even when there was nothing left to shoot, my cock keeps pumping in my hand.

Four or five solid white spurts have hit the window glass and trickled back down the pane. Laura's expression breaks into a wide smile. She licks her fingers one at a time, then presses them to the window. I do the same, but when I glance up to catch her expression, Laura is gone.

Laura and I repeat our mutual performance almost nightly, growing increasing comfortable being naked and vulnerable in front of each other. Yes, I still miss Gretchen, but no longer is her absence such a painful obsession. During a FaceTime call, I describe what’s been going on with Laura, and Gretchen and I end up watching each other through the little window of our phones while slowly build to a lovely simultaneous orgasm.

“Keep practicing, Big Guy,” Gretchen teases as we sign off. “You’ll get the knack of this masturbation thing one of these days.”

The next night, while waiting for her to appear in the window, a car pulls into her driveway. A moment later Tracey's shadowy figure jumps into the passenger side as Laura shouts from the porch, "Be home by midnight!”

As the car backs out, Tracey responds with a muffled, "Yeah, sure.”

Ten minutes later, I knock softly on Laura's back door. When she sees who it was, her face breaks into radiant smile, she throws her arms around my waist, and literally drags me to her bedroom.

Before I even have time to survey the surroundings, Laura has stripped off my pants and briefs and pushed me onto her big bed with my legs hanging down the side. She kneels between my legs, her face just inches from my swollen cock.

"Oh, my, God!" she says under hear breath, "It's even more beautiful up close." Laura is holding my cock between her fingertips with her hands pressed together as if in prayer. "Such smooth, perfect skin.”

My head drops back onto the bed as Laura gently feeds my cock between her lips. It takes just a few quick swirls of her tongue to bring me to full hardness. Somewhere out of my line of vision, I hear Laura undoing her own belt and pulling down the zipper of her skin tight jeans. Even as she struggles to wiggle out of them, she never misses a beat as her mouth sucks my cock shaft.

Without warning, her tongue and throat are replaced by an entirely new sensation as my cock tip slips effortlessly between her pussy lips.

My eyes fly open to see Laura straddling my hips, with perhaps two-inches of my cock already inside her. What is at first effortless, now feels impossible. Laura's vagina is so tight that my cock, which is no bigger than average by any stretch of the imagination, is going no deeper.

Laura grimaces slightly, but is undeterred. With her eyes closed in concentration, she lifts her weight, all 105 pounds of it, and plunges back down on the shank of my engorged cock. I feel myself penetrate perhaps another inch. She repeats this three or four times before, with a soft pop, I plunge deep within her until our pubic mounds crash together.

This time it’s Laura's eyes that fly open with a look of shock, accompanied by a loud gasp. "Oh, My, God!" she exclaims as tears roll down her cheeks. Whether from joy, or pain, or both, I can’t tell. "Oh, Baby! You have no idea! It's been so long. So very long."
 

With that, she grabs the back of my head with both hands and kisses me with so much force I have to fight to catch my breath. When our tongues untangle, I realized that Laura is ferociously riding my cock, and that initial tightness has given way to a delicious friction that overcomes my senses. Soon we are thrusting and withdrawing in unison, my cock pumping in and out of her wet pussy with unrestrained fury, driven by a blind desire for orgasm.

“You’re going to make me… cum,” I whisper in her ear as our hips buck and thrust in a final violent frenzy.

A long howl emerged from Laura as I feel the muscles of her vagina contract around my cock in a series of magnificent spasms. My response is instant, a vibration in my balls launches a series of powerful spasms as I ejaculate repeatedly deep inside Laura.

As our orgasm recedes, Laura collapses on my chest, her lips a few inches from my ear. “No need to work on that timing," she sighs, stroking my neck with her fingertips.

I stay inside her, savoring the sensation of being wrapped in the grip of her hot, liquid cunt. At my age, a first orgasm is more like the end of the third act, than a final climax. Within minutes, I’m gently thrusting again, this time fully lubricated.

"Ohhhhhhhh," Laura gasps, her eyes wide with delight. As my tempo increases, she studies my face, a smile widening across her lips.

This time our lovemaking is slower, more tender and less frenzied. We kiss and tease and I play with her nipples while her fingers stroke my balls and flutter up and down my spine. Our tempo rises and falls and we seem to go on for hours until she whispers in my ear, "Harder, Baby. Fuck me hard… fuck me faster… Oh, god, yes…”

That takes me over the edge, and again my cock spasms wildly and I feel my cum eject in a series of violent spurts as her vaginal muscles clench my cock with a series of powerful contractions.

"Oh, Baby," she whispers, her fingers clutching my butt cheeks and forcing us together. "I think I'm falling in love.”

Whether love, or lust, or some combination of the two, I find myself in Laura's bed almost every night. If Tracey is home, we are quiet and restrained. When she is out, Laura urges me on with gasps and sighs and her old bed reaches such a violent crescendo that the walls and floor groan and creak around us.

Either way, I'm alway in my own bed before dawn.

The secretiveness only draws us closer. Not that there are a lot of places we can go anyway. Within an hour's drive there's one miniature golf course, four family-style restaurants and a couple of roadhouses where my fake ID might, or might not, work. Then I have an idea. An erotic memory that's been a white-hot masturbatory staple of years.

"Meet me at the Lake Association Marina at 9 tonight," I tell Laura as I slip out of her bed the next morning.

When I arrive at the Marina a little before 9 to get things ready, I'm having second thoughts. Will what I have in mind frighten Laura? Will she be aroused? Or repulsed? I almost call the whole thing off until I realize, she doesn't need to know it's been orchestrated just for her.

It'll probably be more exciting if she doesn't.

And there'll never be a better time. The Marina is deserted. No one will notice us leaving together.

The headlights of her Volvo pull into the Marina parking lot and I watch Laura's lithe silhouette approaching. I step out from behind the gantry, catching her off guard and startling her.

"What's this all about, Baby?" she asks. It's the first time I've ever heard her sound apprehensive.

"Have you ever been for a joy ride?"

"In a stolen car?"

"Or boat?" I add guiding her down the dock to a little 21-foot cabin cruiser.

"Is this a good idea? I mean, if we get caught. I've heard of colleges rescinding acceptances for things like Grand Theft."

Wrapping her in my arms, I can feel the heat of her body against mine. "I'm teasing you," I confess. "It's my uncle's boat. I take care of it for him."

I help Laura into the cockpit, run the blower to clear any gas fumes from the engine compartment while I open the cabin and un-cleat the spring line that holds "My Last Toy IV" snug in her slip. The engine turns once, the starts smoothly. A minute later, we are gliding down the mirror smooth lake, running parallel to the shore line.

It's a balmy night with moonbeams sparkling on the occasional riffle. Along the shore families are finishing up BBQs or sitting around with friends enjoying cocktails and watching the moon rise. Behind one cottage, the lawn is ablaze with flood lights and kids play wiffle ball while a radio broadcast of a Pittsburgh Pirates baseball game is audible above the inboard engine that throbs under out feet.

"Baby, this is so romantic," Laura tells me, kissing my check as she curls up next to the me at the helm. I steer north toward the little village at the east end of the lake with its general store, gas station, greasy spoon, dive bar and volunteer fire department. Laura is curious about everything we pass. Wanting to know the names of the other waterfront developments that, like Love Street, are scattered along the shoreline. At throttle speed, it takes nearly two hours to cover 10 miles of shoreline.

For the past half hour or so, we've been cruising along an undeveloped shoreline. Now the bright lights of high-rise residential tower gradually come into view.

"What's that?" Laura asks.

"Western Regional Teaching Hospital," I explain. What I don't tell her is that it's actually the nursing students dormitory.

When we reach the end of the lake, I cut the engine and let us drift without running lights along a low dam. Most of the hospital buildings are at the base of the dam, about 30 feet below. But the nurses’ dorm is a six-story high rise, which puts us about 40 feet away, and looking directly into perhaps a dozen floor-to-ceiling windows.

I pull a blanket over us as Laura's warm body snuggles into mine. At first, we gaze back up the lake toward the distant lights of the village and lakeside cottages. But as the boat gradually swings around in the breeze, the dorm comes into view.

"Oh, my!" Laura exclaims.

"What's that?"

"Look," she points to one of the rooms, almost directly opposite us, a nurse and her boyfriend are slow dancing to music we can't hear. He's wearing jeans, she has on cutoffs. Both are topless and the creamy white sides of her breasts are pressed firmly against his naked chest. We are so close that as they turn, I can read the label on the back of her 502 cutoffs, a 24-inch waist and what was once a 26-inch inseam.

"Can't they see us?" Laura asks.

"Not with their lights on," I tell her. "But you know, I like what they are doing." I lift Laura to her feet and pull off our shirts before wrapping the blanket back around as we sway together in the moonlight.

"Mmmmm," she sighs, looking over her shoulder at the dorm window. "This is naughty, Baby. Very naughty." Laura wraps her arms around my neck and nuzzles into my chest. We dance in the tiny cockpit, making small circles and facing opposite directions, so neither one of us sees the dorm at the same time.

On the next rotation, I notice a light flip on in the room just below our dancing couple. A girl walks in, obviously fresh from a shower, with one towel wrapped on hair, and another around her body and knotted between her breasts. Then we turn again, and my eyes sweep across the dark and empty horizon searching for running lights on the lake. I can make out several, but they are all night fisherman we'd passed during our circumnavigation.

When the dorm comes into view again, the dancers are still wrapped in each other's arms, although their hips are now undulating together. The shower girl, however, has dropped her towels, revealing a voluptuous frame with wide hips and large, ripe breasts. She's standing sideways to us, brushing her hair and studying her reflection in a full length mirror.

"Ohhhh!" Laura exclaims after the scene passes from my view.

"Am I missing something?"

"The girl with the, um, body?"

"Brushing her hair? Yes, very curvaceous."

"She's not exactly brushing her hair anymore."

Sure enough, on the next turn, her hair has been combed into long, wet shoulder-length strands and she's cupped her breasts in her hands and is twisting her large, dark nipples with her thumb and forefinger.

"Wish I could do that," Laura says as, once again, I'm looking down the lake.

"I don't believe there's anything you can't do," I say, breaking our embrace so we can watch together, standing side by side.

"We'll maybe not that," I concede, watching the dark-haired beauty lift her breasts to her mouth and suck intently on each nipple.

"Not in this lifetime," Laura jokes, raking her fingernails down my back. "Ohhh. Do you think she's going to..."

Before Laura can get the word out, the girl lowers one hand along her stomach until it disappears below a freshly shaved mons. She peers intensely into the mirror for a moment, then even as her body seems to tense, her eyes flutter closed.

Laura's arm snakes around my waist as we watch together in fascination as the girl looking in the mirror begins vigorously rubbing her pussy at the same time her head begins bobbing up over her nipple and breast.

"You know I love to watch, Baby. But aren't we invading her privacy or something?" Laura asks.

"She has curtains. If she wants privacy, she can close them."

"True. I guess that it's just kinda of strange watching another woman."

"You feel kinda hot and moist to me," I say, pressing my fingers against soft flesh just below Laura's pubic mons. Then I do more than a mere moisture check, rolling her fleshy lips between my fingers as best as I can through denim jeans and panties.

"Do it to me," Laura moans softly, reaching down, unbuttoning her jeans and lowering the zipper. My hand slips into her panties and my middle finger glides effortlessly between wet labia. Laura may be hesitant to watch another woman touch herself. But her body isn't.

The girl with the mirror, buckles slightly at the knees and pauses masturbating long enough to climb onto her bed. The new view is not nearly as explicit, but it is perhaps even more erotic as she begins bucking her hips in the air while fingering herself and playing with her nipples.

"I think she's close," I whisper.

"So am I," Laura replies in a barely audible sigh. I push one finger into her vagina, while my thumb seeks out her swollen clit. Laura sinks her teeth into my pecs to stifle a gasp. Almost in tandem, Laura and the girl in the window, arch their backs and thrust their hips violently forward, with heads thrown back and eyes clamped shut.

Laura's vaginal muscles contract around my finger and fluid flows down my hand. Her eyes slowly open, and Laura smiles up at me before her gaze returns to the window. The girl on the bed is working it again, finger herself and going for a second orgasm. I pick up my pace, pulling Laura's jeans and panties down to her ankles so I can finger fuck her more vigorously. Soon there is the rapid-fire slap of my hand against her naked flesh combined with a little symphony of wet pussy sound effects.

"Oh, my. God," she repeats over and over. "Baby. Baby. It feels so good. You're going to make me... make me..." I reach behind her with my free hand and the moment my finger darts between Laura's butt checks, she begins to groan. "Cummmmmmmming."

This time, it's Laura's legs that buckle and I catch her and hoist her onto the long, cushioned cockpit bench seat. It takes about 30 seconds before she recovers enough to open her eyes.

"Well, that was unexpected," she tells me, her eye wide and an almost triumphant smile on her face. "I haven't cum that hard, or that fast, since... Since never."

I bend down and slip my lips between hers and we make out for so long that I've lost track of time when I finally come up for air as Laura thrashes around on the cockpit seat as a third set of contractions consume her. This time as she comes down, she pushes my hand away. "Enough," she beams up at me. "Can't take anymore."

I glance back to window, but the show is apparently over and the lights are out. In the room below, however, things are just heating up. The dancing girl kisses her way down her boyfriend's chest and abs, undoing his belt and lowering his pants in an almost seamless motion. Freed of its constraints, the boyfriend's cock snaps to attention, the tip bouncing within inches of her lips.

"Shit," Laura blurts as she stands and tries to pull her panties and jeans up long, shapely legs that glow white in the moonlight. "Is she going to..."

"Suck him off," I finish the thought for her. "I think she certainly going to try."

Before the words are out of my mouth, her mouth has encircled the tip of boyfriend's cock and her fingers are caressing his shaft with long, practiced strokes. The look of pleasure that spreads across the boyfriend's face is priceless. I wrap the blanket around our naked shoulders and Laura and I sit, watching spellbound as our nameless nursing student delivers a post-grad level blowjob.

"Don't worry," Laura whispers up to me. "I'm making mental notes."

Laura has a good memory. Within moments I feel my own jeans and briefs sliding down as Laura's tight, warm lips wrap around my cock head and her fingers caress my shaft with a feathery touch that falls right in my personal Goldilocks zone. Not too tight. Not to loose. But just right. Which brings me to the boiling point before I can say, well, pretty much anything, except "Arrrrggghhhh!"

If Laura answers, her response is swallowed up, as it were, by the loud slurping sound her lips make on my cock tip and the guttural moan that builds from deep inside me. By now, Laura and I know each well enough that I don't have to warn her I'm cumming. It would just make her more determined to swallow anyway.

Through half-closed eyes I glimpse up to see how our amateur performers are doing. I find that like myself, the boyfriend's back is arched while his girl stubbornly refuses to relinquish his throbbing cock.

Like an earthquake, my orgasm announces itself with a few subtle tremors, followed by a furious explosion. Laura grabs my cock shaft in her fist and sucks down each rumbling eruption. As the final tremblers fade, I collapse onto the cushioned bench beside Laura.

It takes surprisingly long for me to recover. When I finally get my belt buckle closed, Laura and I lean back like a couple on our first date at movie and watch the love scene unfolding before us until it reaches its final act, with the boyfriend falling in exhaustion between his girl's outstretched thighs.

We race back to the Love Street Marina at full throttle, my uncle's boat is safely in its slip, and Laura and I are back in her bed, and by a few minutes before midnight we are fucking like there's no tomorrow.

As I'm leaving for my room at dawn, she reaches out and grabs my hand. "That was hot last night on the boat," she says with that insanely sexy smile. "Can we do it again?"

So we do.

On the second visit, Laura watches with undisguised lust as our dark-haired beauty repeats her performance, masturbating in front of her mirror. We don't luck into any couples making love, but as a pretty girl freak dances in cotton panties, Laura and I slowly strip naked for each other and then fuck to a screaming simultaneous orgasm on my uncle's cockpit cushions.

"You've ruined my innocence, you know that you big pervert," Laura says with a grin when we get back to the Marina. "How can I go back to Philadelphia after so fucking much excitement?"

"That's the plan, Ma'am," I tell her.

For the next few weeks, it actually does seem like our passion will surmount all obstacles and we can go on making love forever. But by the Baseball All-Star game in late July, I realize forever is an illusion and that or actual nights together are dwindling to a precious few.

Even worse, I know that when Laura goes, she will also leave an impossible hole in my life.

It not just Laura who is falling. I, too, am hopelessly in love. But in the cold light of reason, I know our relationship, a 19-year-old boy and a 37-year-old woman, is truly hopeless.

Our last night together, Laura weeps softly while we make sweet, passionate love. At dawn, I slip out Laura's back door.

Although it is still August, the first cold snap of the season has arrived. I can see the condensation from my breath and as the first rays of morning light fall across the lake, wisps of steamy fog rise from the surface. Since childhood, this first harbinger of autumn always put me in an irritable mood. But this morning, I'm in a place so dark and despairing that I honestly wonder if I will ever find my way back.

"I thought you said this was the mini-Bible belt out here," Laura says as I help pack her Volvo for the trip back to Philadelphia.

"Believe me," I tell her. "It is."

"The how do explain that," she nods with her sexy smile to a white sign fixed to the porch wall.

The sign is painted with little red hearts, almost like a Valentine's Day card, and announced the address: "69 Love Street."

About the time we hit puberty, after my friends and I worked out the hidden meaning, we would snicker at each other and make endless stupid jokes whenever we passed "69 Love Street."

Today, I just shrug my shoulders.

"It's the reason I picked this place, you know?" Laura says.

"That's pretty random."

"Is it?" Laura asks, fixing her eyes on mine. "I know you're hurting, Baby. We both are. But think about it. Not what we've lost. But what we gained."

I'm so mired in self-pity about the end of our affair, about the end of "us," that I haven't given any thought to silver linings.

Our furtive nights have rejuvenated Laura, I can see that. She has grown more sensual and more confident and has rediscovered a sexual self that she had long suppressed in her role as a single mother. And Laura has taught me to open my heart. That there is so much more to making love than exchanging body fluids, although she is pretty amazing at that part as well.

"I don't think it was random at all," she says, taking me in her arms. "This summer was meant to happen, and we're both be stronger for it."

I thought about that as Laura backed out of the gravel drive and her Volvo tuned east, heading back to Philadelphia.

That maybe some things happen for a reason.

Maybe.