The dreams of summer

Chapter 1

“I think I’m — *hiccup!* — getting a little drunk,” she said as she placed a single hand upon her ample chest, apparently to keep her large breasts from falling completely out of her bikini top.

“Yeah, I think I’m getting a little tipsy too,” I said to her as I poured her yet another glassful of ice cold rosé.

“If you keep feeding me and — *hiccup!* — plying me with wine you’ll never be rid of me,” she giggled as her tongue came poking out between her teeth. “I’ll be the size of house! You’ll need a — *hiccup!* — forklift to get me out of here.”

“That wouldn’t be such a bad thing, now would it?” I said to her as I set down the platter of wine and cheese I’d just brought out from the kitchen along with the freshly chilled bottle of wine upon the table in between us. I then took a seat in the deck chair beside her as we lounged by the pool at my parents house, basking in the summer sun. I had come home to visit the folks for the summer, but they had gone away for the weekend. “I really enjoy your company, Christine.”

“I like your company too, Micah,” she said, turning to me and flashing me one of her million-dollar smiles. I swear, she had the most perfect set of pearly-white teeth that anyone had ever seen. “I’m so glad I — *hiccup* — I’ve had a chance to reconnect with you this summer.”


Christine LaFrost was only the most gorgeous girl in town, at least as far as I was concerned. Back in high school she was like a goddess among us children; the way she carried herself, gliding through the hallways as if she were walking on air, making heads turn everywhere she went. Me and just about every guy I knew had the total hots for her, all of us dreaming that she might give us a chance. Only a few of us were brave enough to ever try and ask her out.

Christine on the other hand had always been smitten with this fellow named Domenic Jarvis, a real arrogant prick who thought his shit didn’t stink. He was good looking, I’ll admit, but he wasn’t too big on brains, and he was hardly the kind of well-cultured sophisticate that I pictured a girl like Christine ending up with. After high school the two of them moved in together, then they got married. Married life for Christine and Domenic wouldn’t be what either of them expected, and it wouldn’t be long before Christine’s life and her body began to change.


“You know, you are like — *hic!* — the sweet guy, Micah,” she said as she reached over and touched my arm, the tips of her long painted nails making my skin tingle as they grazed my flesh. “I really wish that I had — *hic!* — gotten to know you better back in high school.”

“That would have been nice,” I said. “I had such a big crush on you.”

“Shut up!” she exclaimed, her eyes growing wide as she clutched onto my arm. “No you didn’t!”

“Of course I did,” I told her, “me and just about every other guy in school.”

“Aww, I wish I knew,” she said, her soft pink lips forming into a perfect pout, “I didn’t know you very well, but I always thought you were — *hiccup!* — so sweet.”

“I was a dork,” I said with a chuckle, “I never thought I’d have a chance with a girl like you.”

“A girl like — *hic!* — me?” she quizzed. “What do you mean by that?”

“Pretty, popular, a good student,” I said as I listed off all of her winning qualities. “You’re amazing, Christine. You always have been for as long as I’ve known you.”

“That’s sweet,” she said as she turned back around, grabbing hold of her winer glass, “but I’m not an alien. I’m just a girl; I’m a — *hiccup!* — human being.”


I started to feel as though Christine may have been putting up her defenses. From the conversations that we had over the course of the summer, I knew all too well why she would. She had really been through a lot, and her ability to trust others had been continually put to the test. After being married for less than a year, Domenic admitted that he’d been cheating on Christine with a woman who worked as a secretary for his father’s construction company. Christine was furious, but she didn’t leave him. She stayed and she prayed that somehow or some way things would work out between the two of them.


They didn’t.


Things just got harder and harder for Christine, so much so that she started turning to food as a means of coping. While her husband was away, presumably fooling around with this secretary, Christine would stay home and binge-eat for days upon days. Naturally her weight began to spiral out of control. By the time she was just twenty six years old she was more than double the size she had been when she got married at age twenty.
It was hard for some to accept the fact that this former teenage beauty queen had transformed herself into such a plump and Rubenesque specimen. Many of her former friends and family had turned their back on her, no longer wishing to associate themselves with someone whom they deemed to be no longer beautiful. Her parents, loving and caring though they were, were constantly on her case about losing weight, sometimes using cruel and even abusive language. Now living on her own in a little house just outside of town, she was forging her own path and trying her best to be true to herself. I consider myself lucky to have been able to get to know this new and more confident woman she had worked so hard to make herself into.


“I guess I was just too shy,” I said, “I had a lot of confidence and self-esteem issues back then.”

“Not anymore?” Christine asked.

“I’ve done a lot of work on myself,” I said after a brief pregnant pause, “spent a lot of time in therapy. I feel like for the first time now, I am truly secure in who I am.”

“Good,” she said firmly, “because I have no time for — *hiccup!* — insecure men in my life anymore.”

“I hear that,” I said. “I’ve been out with a few jealous and insecure women in my life, and I don’t have any patience for that anymore either.”


Christine set her glass down on the table, then turned her entire body to face me, laying on her side upon the elongated deck chair. She looked at me with her big hazel eyes, her large breasts and big belly flopping over to the side and hanging over the edge of the chair, and at once I felt as if I had found something that I had been looking for all my life. Here we were, two lost souls in their late twenties who had known one another nearly all of their lives, finally finding the solace in one another that they had both been longing for all of their lives.


“I have to tell you something, Micah,” she said with a bit of a mischievous look in her eyes.

“Oh? What’s that?” I asked.

“I really hate — *hiccup!* — tan lines,” she responded.

“Tan lines?” I inquired.

“Yeah, I almost always — *hic!* — sunbathe in the nude when I’m at home.”

“I see,” I answered.

“Would you mind if I — *hic!* — took my top off?”

“Not at all,” I said. My heart began to pound and I felt a stirring in my nether regions. I was trying hard to keep my composure as I watched her slowly reach around the back of her neck and undo the knot upon the delicate strings that kept her giant knockers in place, but there was no denying that I was getting excited. As the strings came popping down on either side of her, her massive melons sprung forward in a fluid motion, bouncing around like two overfilled water balloons, finally settling down and flanking themselves on either side of her mountain of a belly. Her nipples were large and round and a perfect coral color, her lightly tanned skin glistening in the sunlight.

"I think I'm going to pull my bottoms off too," she said. She then reached down and began to tug at the thin line around her waist, sliding the tightly fitting thong down over her thick thighs, wiggling it down to chunky legs, her rolls of flesh jiggling about wildly, until finally the skimpy garment made it all the way down to her chubby little feet where she could kick them off.

There she was, Christina LaFrost, the hottest girl in my school laying beside me just as naked as the day she was born. My sixteen year old self would never have believed it if someone told him that he would one day experience this moment. I could feel my mouth begin to water as I glared over at her longingly; I couldn’t help myself, my desire for her was overwhelming. Her persistent hiccups were making her entire body shimmy and shake as if every part of her had a mind of its own.

“Mmm, the sun feels so good — *hic!* — on my skin,” she said, “you should really join me.” My heart skipped a beat as I forced a loud gulp down my throat. I already had my shirt off, I was only wearing my swim trunks. “Go on,” she said, “it’s just the two of us here. Nobody’s — *hic!* — looking.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I reached down and pulled my draws down, shimmying them down to my feet and kicking them off in much the same manner as did Christine. I felt self conscious being out in the open like this, but there was no turning back now.

“Why don’t you come over here and — *hiccup!* — rub some lotion on me.”

Grabbing the bottle of sunblock that was sitting on the table just beside her, I hastily squirted a large quantity in the palm of my hand, then I began to rub my hands together. The viscous liquid smelled sweet like coconut and felt warm and gooey between my fingers. Leaning forward slightly, I hovered over Christine and began massaging her large breasts. They were so soft and heavy, and her skin was so smooth. She closed her eyes and let out a soft hum, accentuated by more hiccups as my fingers found their way to her tender nipples, teasing them gently.

“That feels so good,” she said softly, “it’s been a — *hic* — long time since I’ve had a man touch me like this.”

My hands made their way over towards Christine’s mound of a belly, towering above her, acting as a soft and cushiony buffer between her body and mine. I found myself getting closer and closer to her, until I was practically on top of her. It was as if there were a magnetic force pulling us together. Her soft and plush flesh glistened in the sunlight all the more as I rubbed the lotion all over her, her every roll wobbling and jiggling as the she were a human-sized jello-mold just taken out of the tin.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” I heard her say, snapping me out of the trance I had fallen under.

“Huh?”

“Kiss me,” she said again, “I want you to kiss me.”

She then wrapped her chunky arms around the back of my neck and pulled me into her. Our lips met and I melted into her. It was our first kiss and it was electrifying. After months of nothing more than casual hugs and shoulder rubs, our bodies were pressed together like two lumps of dough being kneaded into one big glob. Her soft lips were like two sticks of half melted butter being slathered all over my mouth, and her long tongue came dashing forward into my mouth, tickling the back of my throat.

Once we had collected ourselves, we went inside the house where we took a shower together. We then made love in almost every room of the house. Part of me felt bad for violating my parents home in that way, but what they didn’t know would never hurt them.


“When do you leave?” Christine asked in a somber sounding voice as we lay holding one another in my childhood bed, the setting sun casting long shadows across the room.

“My flight leaves at 7 am next Wednesday.” I replied as I lovingly caressed her soft tummy.

“When will you be back?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, releasing a deep breath after a long pause. “As soon as I can. The holidays will be here before you know it.”

“You mean I have to wait until Christmas to see you?” she whimpered wearily. We both lay silent for a moment. I think we were both contemplating the reality of the situation we found ourselves in. It’s funny how life just seems to get more and more complicated the older we get. Here we were, two old friends from the same hometown who finally found their way into one another’s arms after so many years apart. Why couldn’t we just be together all the time?

“You could always come out and see me?” I suggested.

“Really?” Christine responded, sounding surprised. “You’d be into that?”

“Of course,” I told her, “I’d love for you to see where I live. It really is a nice place, and I think you’d really love the west coast.”

“I’ve never been,” she said as she began to fiddle with my chest hairs, “I’ve always wanted to go out west.”

In the months that followed, Christine and I kept in touch, calling one another every day, making plans and sharing our hopes and dreams. We both held a lot of love and hope in our hearts, and every word we spoke to one another was a reflection of that hope. As time went on however, our calls became less and less frequent, until finally they ceased altogether. When I went back home to see my parents for the holidays, Christine was nowhere to be found. She’d moved out of her little house just outside of town apparently, and nobody I knew had any idea where she had gone to.

Wherever she is, I hope that she won’t forget me or the time that we spent together. I know I will never forget her, and I know that every night when I lay down to sleep, wherever I am or whomever I am with, I will dream a dream of the summer that she was all mine.


THE END