…At the shoreline, a fishing boat bobbed at a small dock with its motor propped. He looked toward the water and rubbed his arm in the exact location his flesh had touched mine. His body took on the posture he assumed during his morning salute, his back muscles flexing, his fists clenching. I wondered—again—what he was thinking about. What about the lake did he respect so vehemently to stand at attention at the water’s edge?

After a minute, he crouched at a meticulously tended garden just off the shore. His pants dipped, revealing the flesh below his waist, as ivory as piano keys. This boy had spent his fair share toiling in the sun, and a groan of pleasure rumbled in my throat with the thought of his pulling weeds, raking, and getting dirty—not to mention working me over, too.

An ambitious man deserved a good woman to enlighten him once he’d completed his chores. I grasped the zucchini, rubbed it vigorously beneath the faucet. He’d earned the chance to step into a cool shower, to relax in pleasure as I soaped him up. I’d start in the middle of his body, with the muscle most likely in need of relief, massaging his cock from balls to head, working him with my thumbs along the underside, dragging my fingers along the length of him, until he was firm and ready for me, wanting me the way I’d wanted him the first time I’d laid eyes on him. Our animal attraction would turn to instinctive action. Two bodies needing to meet, needing to please.