I never really thought anything crazy could happen in a sleepy New England lakeside town, but then again, I never expected to meet someone like Emily in the first place. I guess, if I’m being honest, it was more than just meeting her—it was about how everything unfolded between us that summer.
My name’s Josh. I’m twenty-four, not really special except for maybe being the only guy in the office who actually likes making spreadsheets. That summer, my buddy Alex invited me up to his family’s summer house for a long weekend. He swore I needed to loosen up, told me I work too hard, never have any fun. “There’ll be other people there,” is what he said. “And plenty of beer.”
He wasn’t lying. The first night, the house was full—music spilling out the open windows, the smell of barbeque twisting with the scent of the lake. I didn’t really know most of the crowd, but I was determined to mingle a bit, maybe finally relax.
That’s where I first noticed Emily. She was sitting on the edge of the back deck, kicking her feet above the wet grass, laughing at something her friend whispered. She had this natural mess of brown hair, soft freckles across her nose, denim shorts, and a faded university tee. I’d seen plenty of pretty girls before, but there was something about her—something in her eyes that looked like she was always teasing you, even if you didn’t get the joke.
Alex introduced us over a round of vodka lemonades. Emily gave me a lopsided smile and stuck out her hand. “You work with Alex, right? The spreadsheet guy?”
I laughed. “Guilty.”
We talked for a while. She was twenty-three, just out of grad school, trying to figure out what the hell to do with her life. Sharp, sarcastic, but not in a mean way. The more we talked, the easier it was to just…let myself be there.
I won’t lie, there was a spark. But honestly, I didn’t see it going anywhere. She was one of those women that seemed too cool and too unavailable all at once. So I mentally parked that idea, chalked it up to summer air, and kept it friendly.
Over the next day, the group spent time by the lake—swimming, drinking, tossing frisbees. Emily and I joked around, mostly shallow stuff at first. But sometimes I’d find her eyes on me, holding just a second too long before she’d glance away.
After dinner, people drifted off to light a bonfire down on the rocky shore. Emily and I ended up sitting together on a worn wool blanket, sharing a flask of whiskey and letting the fire warm our faces.
She asked, “So, why are you still single, Josh?”
I grinned, a little embarrassed. “Honestly? I’m terrible at making moves. I always overthink things. Women get bored before anything starts.”
She laughed, soft and real. “So you’re a nice guy.”
“Maybe too nice for my own good. What about you?”
She shrugged. “I’ve been in a couple dumb relationships. Doesn’t really feel worth the hassle right now.”
The heat from the fire wasn’t the only thing warming my skin. I wanted to lean in and kiss her, but I hesitated. Old habits, I guess. But the moment thickened into something—her knee nudged against mine, the whiskey ran a glow through my veins, and for the first time in a while, I felt loose. Dangerous.
People started drifting back toward the house. Emily glanced at the flickering embers, then at me. “Wanna take a walk?”
We followed the shoreline, stumbling over damp rocks. The full moon was bright, shimmering off the water. We didn’t say much at first. Just the sound of our sneakers squishing in the grass and the night bugs humming.
Eventually, we sat on the old dock, bare feet dangling over the water. Close enough that her shoulder brushed mine.
She said, quieter now, “You mind if I ask you something personal?”
“Go for it.”
Her eyes met mine, serious this time. “What do you actually want, right now?”
My thoughts flashed. I’m not sure if it was just the booze, or the heat between us that had been building for days, but I decided to be honest for once. “I want to kiss you,” I said, voice low.
Emily smiled, almost shyly, but didn’t look away. The lake was silent for a moment. She let out a nervous laugh. “About fucking time.”
She leaned in, and I met her halfway. Our mouths tangled, tentative at first, testing the fit and the taste. She tasted like whiskey, smoke, and a little bit of something sweet. Her hands ran up my neck, fingers tangling in my hair.
I pulled her closer, felt her body press against me, warm and soft. Her lips parted for me, tongue slipping against mine. It felt so good—electric, impossible to stop. My hands moved down, finding the bare skin above her shorts, her hips narrowing beneath my palms. She moaned into my mouth, low and desperate, and that sound sent a jolt straight through me.
But then Emily pulled away, breathless, hair wild around her face. For a split second, the old uncertainty kicked in. Did I come on too strong? Was she regretting it? I froze, panic fluttering in my chest.
She searched my face, like she could see right through all my insecurities. “Is this okay?” she said, voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah,” I breathed. “God, yeah.”
But she stayed back, legs pulled up to her chest. “Sometimes I get in my head about this stuff,” she admitted. “Like, what if it ruins the vibe? I actually like hanging out with you.”
I exhaled, feeling relief and lust swirl together. “Me too. But I don’t want to pretend I’m not dying to touch you right now.”
A crooked smile lit up her face. Then, without another word, she pulled her shirt over her head, tossing it beside us on the dock. The way the moonlight hit her skin, made her freckles glow, made me even hornier, somehow softer too. She reached for my waistband, fingers trembling, eyes locked on mine. “Then don’t pretend,” she said.
I leaned in, kissing her neck, lips tracing the curve of her collarbone. My hands swept over her bare stomach, fingers grazing the swell of her breasts beneath her bra. She shivered, breath hitching. “Jesus, Josh—” she whispered, exhaling as I palmed her through the thin fabric. Her nipples hardened under my touch and I tugged her bra strap down, letting her tits spill free into my eager hands. She arched against me and I sucked her nipple softly, letting my tongue swirl over her. Her hand was under my shirt now, nails raking gently over my back, pulling me closer. Every touch was hotter, hungrier.
She reached down, fumbling with my zipper. “You’re killing me,” she murmured, giggling, cheeks flushed. My cock strained against my boxers, desperate for her. When she wrapped her hand around it, skin rough but sure, I almost lost it.
I kissed her harder then, urgent, trailing kisses down her stomach, tugging her shorts and panties off in one shaky pull. She spread her legs for me, moaning as my fingers slipped between her thighs, wet and aching. “God, you’re so fucking wet,” I groaned. She bucked into my hand as I slid a finger inside, then two, curling them against that spot that made her whimper my name, over and over.
“Josh, please—” she begged, voice thick, needy. I didn’t make her wait. I pulled my cock free, pushed into her, slow at first, feeling her stretch around me so perfectly. She gasped, nails digging into my shoulders, legs wrapped around my waist. I fucked her there on that old wooden dock, the lake stretching out behind us, stars spinning above.
Every thrust made her tighter, wetter, her moans echoing over the water. She rocked against me, riding my rhythm, hips meeting every movement. “Yes, God, just like that,” she cried, her body trembling. I lost control, groaning her name as I slammed into her over and over, finally spilling deep inside her as she came, shuddering, crying out, face buried in my neck.
We caught our breath together, tangled, sweat cooling in the breeze. She pressed a kiss against my chest, laughing softly. “Well, I guess you’re not that shy after all.”
I grinned, feeling alive, raw, open. “Guess you just had to push the right button.”
We gathered our clothes, made our way back to the house, hands brushing and laughter spilling between us. I couldn’t believe how easy it felt, how right. That summer, Emily and I became more than just a hook-up—we found a kind of wild freedom in each other, something that made the rest of the world fade away.
But if you ask me when it started, really—when it all changed—it was right there on the dock, under the full moon, with her breathy moans in my ear and the taste of her still on my lips.