Boathouse Heat

When I rose, she pulled me close, her legs wrapping around me. I entered her in one smooth motion, and she cried out, her nails raking my back. The rhythm built — urgent, primal — her hips meeting mine, her breath hot against my neck as she urged me deeper. “Don’t stop,” she gasped – “please, Matt, give me everything.” Her words lit me up, and I gave her all I had, our bodies locked together, the world fading to nothing but us.

When she tightened around me, her release hit like a storm, her voice breaking in sharp, breathless cries. I followed moments later, the intensity blinding, her name on my lips as we collapsed against each other, slick with sweat and satisfaction.

That wasn’t the end — not by a long shot. We became lovers, stealing moments at first, careful to keep it hidden. But whispers spread, as they do in small towns. The mayor’s wife and the new guy, a decade and a half younger. Paul caught wind eventually, and to my shock, he didn’t mind. “If it’s you,” he said one night over a beer – “I’m not worried. Just let me have a peek now and then.” Age had changed him, turned his desires inward, but we stayed friends.

Life went on, at least on the surface. I was still a fixture at their parties, but now it was different — Nora’s hand lingering on mine in front of everyone, her lips finding me in shadowed corners, or quick, heated moments stolen in quiet rooms. Her hunger only grew, and I matched it, unable to get enough.

The parties themselves got looser — couples pairing off, boundaries blurring. I kept Nora to myself, and she never pushed for anyone else. Some nights, we’d slip away three, four times, her body pressed against mine in a guest room or a bathroom, her whispers daring me to push harder, faster. She’d show up at my work sites in outfits that stopped just short of scandalous — short dresses, plunging necklines, boots that begged for attention. She was fearless, and she was mine.

Then Paul passed.

I mourned him at the funeral, a good man gone too soon. Later, I honored him in my own way, tangled with Nora in their bed, her body a tribute to what we’d all shared. We stayed together four more years, our connection fierce and unyielding. Until one day, I felt the pull to move on.

As quietly as I’d arrived, I left that town behind, slipping into the unknown without a trace.

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