Chapter Two Love Make Early Summer

     After sunset, they had felt a warm burst of air on the beach.
     Right before reaching it, as they were returning from following the hard surface of sand below the wrack line where she had briskly measured its length, he had said to her, "That was a nice way to end a summer spent together" . It was almost where he had first kissed her, her being talkative, and had said, "While we're kissing, all we'll be able to hear is the sound of the waves." The waves at night beginning to crash according to the tide, the had amended their plans to visit the smaller art colony the next morning and the take a train north to visit the other, both jutting out into the ocean on a neck. New England, in order to begin Autumn the next day, without his prior knowledge and to accomodate his lovelife, would bringing a light, but colder, soft, but intimate, rain. Her could barely remember the first line poem he had written about the small village more than thirty years before, and had not yet recited it to her. "Migration pulls the geese away," he later thought.
     Rather than inserting, she manipulated the head of his penis to her clitoris with her hand. It was a new sensation that he hadn't before experienced. It had a softness to it as she made an up and down brushing motion on only that part of his penis, whereas her hand was grasping below it. He watched her, staring at her pubic hair as he was on top of her with his arms extended, wondering how she had thought of it and how long it would delay his ejaculating.


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