It was the summer of 2001 and we had both graduated high school that spring. Jami was gorgeous. She had smooth, tanned skin with sexy tan lines that clearly defined the boundaries of her chastity and modesty. She had a small chest, which she was self-conscious of, but I assured her that she had wonderful, perky tits. I think all young women have something about themselves they don't like but are pleasantly surprised when a partner adores them because of it. I had explored every inch of her with my eyes, hands, tongue, and cock in the eighteen months we dated and never found a single flaw. She smiled and pushed her bangs over her eyes when I told her that, but I could still see her mascara run.
I arrived a little before lunch. Her dad, Tom, was grilling and her mom was in the house making the side dishes. It was promised to be a feast! Their only daughter had graduated and been accepted to Vassar, her dream school.
I made my way over to the pool where Jami lounged with her elbows on the ledge. I looked at her short-cropped blonde hair and sinewy shoulders glistening in the July sun. The water line lapped at her shoulder blades and she quietly hummed along to a Matchbox Twenty song playing on the radio. I glided into the pool and came up behind her.
"Mmmm." She hummed. "I'm glad you are here."
"Me too," I replied. "Working on anything exciting?"
She rolled her head over her shoulder and kissed me. "I went down to the river this morning and took some pictures. I'll show them to you later if you want, but let's just stay here a while longer and drink it in," Jami said.
