Chapter 1
Dan Shannon turned off Purchase Street and headed along Prudence Lane just as the New England sun slipped behind a cloud. The boy's oversized feet scuffed along the dusty hardpack and his lanky six foot frame swayed with the rhythm of a walker not too anxious to arrive at his destination. His hands fumbled with the lint in his jean pockets. He searched the road side for diversions that would keep him from arriving too quickly. Certainly he wanted to get to the quiet meadow that had been the source of so many beautiful hours but today's meeting with Phoebe would not be as joyful as the others. Today's meeting would be the last.
As he approached the gate that led behind the work shed and out to the garden and meadow, he comforted himself in his apprehension by slipping his left hand almost indiscernably to the right. The springy warmth of his cock tightened with the attention and soon his mind settled on memories of the afternoons of gentle kisses among the wildflowers.
Phoebe. Even as his mind turned the word over in reverie, his body responded with the hunger of an animal ready for love ... but despite so many opportunities, still a virgin. His cock stretched down his leg, causing his pants to bulge so fully that the prominent dorsal vein could be seen clearly despite the heavy denim of his cutoff shorts.
Phoebe. Soon she would head south to Boston. Soon she would board her flight and be whisked off to another world. A world of glamour and excitement. Dan Shannon knew that he would never be able to compete with the fascination of such a world. He knew that he would never again feel the warmth of total innocence after today.
Phoebe had arrived nearly a half-hour before Dan. She knew that today would be the last time for a long time for her to see the indigo New England sky, to feel the long summer grass beneath her, to roll in the arms of her wild flower friends ... She wanted a moment to herself, to herself and her memories.
When she saw the meadow today, it seemed somehow different. The colors were brighter, the sky clearer. She lay down alongside the harrow that stood like a monument in the field. As her eyes followed the outline of its many curves, her hands slowly opened the tiny pearl buttons of her blouse. The sun filtered through wispy clouds and settled warmly on the creamy gold of her warm full breasts. Breasts so firm that they only hinted at a list to left or right as Phoebe reached for a daisy or brushed a butterfly back into the air. Her yellow hair sparkled in the afternoon. Highlights of red and gold glinted across the meadow while sun, honeysuckle and breeze lulled the woman-child to sleep.
Dan saw Phoebe long before he entered the meadow. From the path she was just a mound of color and softness mixed with the many textures of the landscape around her. But for Dan, every line of her form was already committed to memory and would leap to mind with the slightest provocation. How many afternoons had he lain next to her, touching her with his eyes. Satisfying himself with the most gentle of kisses while devouring her with his mind and eyes. How many nights had he stared late into the night, stared and stared at the ceiling of his room. Stared until his hand moved-seemingly of its own volition-across his chest, over with the covers, down with his shorts and oh so madly, up and down, down and up, up and down. The thick foreskin spread slickly back. The swollen head of his substantial prick seemed about to burst. His head rolled back and forth across the pillow while his sperm-filled balls flipped up and down in time with the mutted cries of, "Phoebe, Phoebe, Phoebe...." As he stood by the edge of the road, staring across the open field that separated him from the object of his passion, his hand instinctively reached the row of buttons that held back his straining meat. In a moment he was free of the encumbering material and kneeling in the grass, pounding his turgid prick, almost pulling Phoebe toward him by sheer dint of will. He -edged closer and closer to her. He circled the sleeping form until he was only a few hidden feet from her. He slipped from his shorts the better to negotiate the gorilla maneuvers of his lust, while never missing a beat of his hand.
In his passion, his cries grew stronger. She stirred. The afternoon clouds grew more frequent and their cool drew Phoebe from her dreams. Dan's passion-his stored desire from countless nights of solitary acts, his numberless afternoons of touching and cooing and caressing but never holding and pounding and driving as every inch of his being wanted to do-this passion grew out of control until he stood erect not three feet from his innocent Phoebe. The crash of his movements and the pounding of his hand and breath woke Phoebe. She turned, half-awake, toward the sounds and saw her own beloved Dan, her confidant and soul-mate, standing as she had never seen him before. His face to was twisted with the agony of ecstasy. He was near the limit of endurance, on the edge of explosion.
Phoebe could not believe that the last moments she was to spend with the garden and sweetheart of her most cherished dreams would include such a hideous scene. As she comprehended the who and the what of the scenario before her, she blurted out in disbelief, "Dan? Dan Shannon! I can't believe...."
As her moist cherry lips parted in rebuke and incredulousness, Dan's eyes could not part from the pink pastel of Phoebe's nipples. In her shock she had totally forgotten that she was naked to the waist. Her bosom flashed in the heat of her anger, her face began to register the details of what she was seeing. She had seen men undress before but never a man so young and with a cock so long and thick and red as the creature she saw before her. "My God!"
And as her mouth opened wide to shout out her horror, Dan's thighs tightened, his pelvis buckled forward and his balls pulled tight beneath his rock-hard prick.
"Ahhhhhhhh," he screamed and he ejaculated viscous streamers, great lines of come, sailing through the air and splattering hard and wet and hot on Phoebe's face and breasts and golden hair.
"What are you doing?" Phoebe screamed. Now she was wide awake and totally indignant. She was revolted. The smell of his male juices, the taste of the thick alkaline fluid in rrer mouth, the feeling of his come splattering on her face and breasts-this was more than she could bear. She rose to run for the house, to get out of the sight of this loathsome creature she thought she had known. To get away from this horrible scene that had abruptly shattered a summer of beautiful memories. As she stood she suddenly realized she was naked and she reached for her blouse that' lay on the ground. For an instant her breasts hung beneath her and her firmly rounded buttocks protruded irresistibly. Her hand stretched out for the blouse that lay only a pace from her feet.
Dan knew that he would never see Phoebe after these few moments. After wanting her, cherishing her for day and nights on end, his love for her would be lost in the sallow memory of too much good gone bad. But in that instant, with memories jangling in his head, breasts dangling before his eyes and the overwhelming knowledge that after this there would be nothing, he moved. He vaulted the distance between Phoebe and himself, and he brought her crashing down into the grass with the momentum of his leap.
"Dan...." screamed Phoebe, "what on earth, let me go...."
But he did not let her go. She struggled beneath him but the feeling of her hot young body twisting and turning, her flesh against his, both of them mixing in the slime of his come, these feelings overwhelmed him. He pushed her onto her back and braced himself above her, pinning her arms to the ground with his knees. She whined and pleaded, she shouted for help but Dan would not be moved. He kneeled over her letting his pendulous balls drag over her nipples, pushing his still turgid prick deep between her full breasts, rubbing her skin, massaging the deep sensors that announce their delight to the innermost centers of passion.
She was appalled at his insensitive aggressiveness, and she twisted and struggled beneath him, staring in horror at the monstrous prick that rubbed mercilessly over her naked breasts. Every place he put his bulbous cock-head, wherever the slit of his prick slid, it left a snail's trail of richly glistening come.
Phoebe seemed to pass from heated to hot. Without realizing it she soon found herself twisting to meet the pushing and rubbing that Dan forced on her.
His young cock swelled into rock-hard rigidity once again with the contact of her softly pounding chest. He reached down and lewdly massaged his turgid cock while kneeling not four inches from her face. She cursed him as best a school girl can, she damned him, she spat at him but everything that she tried from her pinned position seemed to excite him more. And then he began to come again. He poured out his hot steamy semen and Phoebe again began her desperate dance to escape ... But as Dan looked down, he saw the angel face of his Phoebe. She turned and writhed as his hot sperm rained down on her face, trying desperately to escape the streams. Her hair was matted with his sperm, and her breasts were red from the heated abuse he had forced on her. She lay back exhausted and he fell forward, curled around her head, his deflating prick lying on her cheek. When he caught his breath enough to raise his head, he looked down and saw that Phoebe's jeans were stained wide around the crotch, soaked with the affluence of her ordeal. She was drenched with her own juices.
Without a word, without a single syllable of apology, he rose, dressed, and he looked into her eyes once more. Then they walked their separate ways home. In their silence they knew summer was over and somehow, they were glad.
When Phoebe got home, she slipped up to her room unseen. There she found the luggage her mother had promised her. She would leave just after dawn.