Spring Time in Texas

Is For Thrill Seekers

It was Spring Break 1991. I was supposed to be going to the Gulf of Mexico outside Houston with some pals from Austin for part of the week. Galveston and Bolivar Peninsula. Galveston was ok. The Strand was cool to walk up and down, stop at every bar along the way and get schnockered before landing at the Tremont House Hotel for the night. It was a grand old hotel that didn’t make it through the hurricane of 1900 that pretty much flattened the entire island and killed upwards of 6,000 people or more. But it was rebuilt and updated in the 1970’s to its current state and it was glorious. A definite must whenever there.

Bolivar was my fave, especially fishing at Rollover Pass. A channel between the Gulf and the East Bay. Legend says LaFitte used to run ships stocked with rum through that little known passageway to avoid capture. I just knew it was a great fishing spot.

It’s been years since I’ve been back. I was told years ago it was closed due to erosion that made it unsustainable. When I heard this, I was very saddened. A lot of good times were had there, too much fishing line broke on big ones, pounds of big ones reeled in and eaten fresh off the barbeque with some really divine friends.

But… my phone rang as I was packing. Guess who? Yep, our dear irresistible lover, John.

He proposed I come to his sleepy little town as much of his patient load would be out of town or at one of the outlying camps for school break and we could have a rollicking good time together. And if he did have to go to his office, it would be only for short periods of time in which I could laze by the pool and help myself to his bar which he would happily stock for me.

Hmmm. Free room and board, daily fuckings, fully stocked bar on a gorgeous man’s dime? Not a tough choice. But I couldn’t say no to Bolivar completely so I told John he could have me for two days then off to the coast I was going.

He agreed and since I was already half packed, that was good enough. I grabbed my toothbrush and out the door I bolted.

I was giddy as I headed south out of Austin. A sweet and unexpected surprise from my curly-headed man toy. It was about a two-hour drive to his apartment, so I slid the seat back, put in a cassette, slid the moon roof back to soak in some sunshine once I hit the two-lane road, and wriggled in my seat with anticipation.

As I hit that familiar high spot in the road that leads into that quaint little town, I got my little schoolgirl giggles like usual. I still could not believe after two years of playing with this man how he made me feel.

I slid my boxy & blue Volvo into a snug parking space under a shade tree in the parking lot and trotted up to his second story abode. I tapped - no answer. The door was unlocked. A sweet luv note on the counter read, “Two patients only. I hope. I’ll scurry back quickly to suck any part of your body you choose. Don’t use up all the ice. Bad girl.”

My giggles were back. I slid my right hand down my shorts and panties and, as suspected, I was already wet.

But I was saving that for him. Time to make a pitcher of drinks and head to the pool.

I scavenged through his freezer and found some lime-aid. Yummy. And he always had gin in his bar - usually Tanqueray Ten. So, a refreshing vessel of Gimlets to slurp while catching the rays and adding some freckles for him to lick would do the trick.

I grabbed some cheese and bread, a fluffy towel and down the stairs I went.

I had the pool to myself. A little shocked by that, but it was a Monday. And barely noon.

Midway through the schooner of delicious, green liquid that was giving me the perfect buzz, in pops my beautiful boy. He was still wearing a tie! Being the perfect amount of drunk I could not refrain from laughing hideously out loud. He smacked my thigh, grabbed my face and cheeks and popped his lips onto mine. A sucking smoocheroo to quiet my mouth. I deserved it. I was a bad girl.

He laughed, turned to head upstairs. I implored him to bring the rest of the gin and juice. I did not get an answer back.

But my man did not disappoint. He came bounding back down the stairs tout suite, with mixings in hand, he just put them on a table across the pool on the other side from me. Sly dog. He was gonna make me work for it.

He dove right in. As he came up for air and flipped that gorgeous mound of hair allowing me to watch the water droplets to glisten in the yellow beams of light, I was entranced and smitten all over again.

How had we gotten here? To this unbelievable place. So happy. So natural. So pleasant. No rush. No strings. No contracts. No expectations. No let downs. Nothing forced. Yet we could still have anything we wanted.

He snuck and swam under water up to where I was relaxing in a daydream trance and yanked me out of my lounge chair straight into the water to dunk me!

Shithead.

Fine. Game on.

So now we were elementary age children splashing and dunking one another, causing a scene, making a ruckus. Forcing the neighbors to come out to see what the commotion was all about. We were in the pool, then out of the pool chasing each other around the slippery surfaces. Falling back in. Screaming like out-of-control brats. We definitely both needed spankings.

This went on for as long as we wanted. Until we were exhausted and our stomach and cheek muscles hurt from laughing so much.

Goddamn, we were the perfect couple.

We made it back to the two side-by-side chaise lounges where I had originally started my springtime relaxation session. We then accomplished finishing all the exquisite tart concoction until we were both feeling an ample amount of inebriation. Of course, nothing us two fools full of just enough merriment couldn’t handle to get us safely up those concrete steps to our Doolittle bed.

Before we could even make it that far our swim attire was falling off before the front door was even shut as we then fell to the living room floor. Rolling around in a full make-out session, the smell of chlorine wafting through the air. We did not care. We were the only two people on this ride. This was our roller coaster.

We loved kissing each other. We were champs. And the sexual fever that came along with it was divine and erotic. Perfect foreplay as it warmed up our juices and got us both extra tingly. That foretaste of getting fucked righteously was building and mounting. Like that coaster car heading up that first climb to the top, before the rush down. Before that whole ride begins. Then you’re on it, no getting off, until the end.

At once, we intuitively stopped, grabbed each other’s arms, looked into each other’s eyes, and without a word bolted upstairs to the Doolittle bed.

I splayed myself out for him on my back, just the way he likes. When I offer myself up to him, with my legs spread as far as I can get them, it makes him look at me so ravenously and sometimes makes him quiver and gasp. Yes, so it did this time too.

He plunged into me, let out a howl. I tightened my pussy around his solid cock and wrapped my hands around his butt cheeks, pulling him into me as deeply as I could.

He slid a pillow under my back; I threw my legs into the air. I wanted him so deep inside me. I wanted to be pummelled. Battered relentlessly. Stricken useless to the end of the ride. I missed my man so badly.

He gave it to me over and over. He then said, “You tell me when you’ve had enough, naughty girl.” I knew exactly what that meant. He would give it to me for an hour or more if I wanted it. And his sexy, toned legs had the power and stamina, trust me.

As I gazed at his amazing face and peered into his eyes, I could feel how fervently he wanted to pleasure me. He truly wanted to give me the moon and the stars. And the best of him.

I brought my legs down, dug my nails into his lower back. I thrusted my hips up to meet his. Our bones grinding together. Hips swaying in perfect synchrony.

As I let loose, that feeling of orgasm started to swell inside me. I closed my eyes.

“That’s my girl.”

I started to moan. Ever so slightly. My head rocked side to side.

Pressure building. Voice getting louder. Feelings ramping up. Keep your hands inside the ride, I thought.

Oh, GOD! I shuddered. I shrieked. I screamed his name.

I saw bursts of orange and silver. I heard a faint grunting somewhere in the outreaches of where my mind had gone. I was in la la land for sure.

When I opened my eyes, my lover was above me, smacking his lips. He bent down to kiss my face. All over.

“I love watching you come. It is so very fucking sexy.”

“Well, I love you making me come. So, thank you.” I replied.

Downstairs we went to finish the late afternoon with a homemade dinner, more drinks, our usual silly banter and laze about on his couch.

Luckily for us there was a Bond film on that night. Yay! 007 is always a good way to end a day after swooshing up and down on the most thrilling ride at Six Flags over John’s House.

More adventurous tales for y’all tomorrow.

🧡 Stella