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I've spent too many hours on the internet this week, as I'm sure many of us have. By yesterday afternoon I was starting to get square eyes. Finally I shut down the iBook and stepped out into the backyard to go for a dip in the river.

Normally the river is my sanctuary. A million dollars couldn't buy this tranquility:
The late afternoon sun, low over the treetops on Long Island. Still plenty warm. Up to my neck, the river so clear I can look down and see my feet.

The breeze kicks up sparkles on the surface of the water. Tiny fish wriggle around in the golden light as I flex my toes in the sand.

But yesterday, wading around in waist-deep water felt like an emotionally loaded act. Dark energy burns at the core of this sun.

I came up through the bushes with a towel around my shoulders, and will you look who's standing there in my backyard.

"Hi, I was in the neighbourhood..."

"You were in the neighbourhood of Gaspereau Forks?"

A walking vision of summer. If she were a James Bond character her name would be Goldenass.

"Well I was driving up the highway, saw the sign for Chipman... I thought hm, wonder if Philip's home."

Of course I'm home. And that's as far as the conversation got before I threw her down on the ground and let the ravishing begin.

The feel of her pussy muscles as they tightened and throbbed around my fingers. So amazing.

"I'm gonna need that towel you're lying on," I said. All over my arm, my shoulders, my chest. "You just squirted all over me."

Afterwards we went back down to the river. I waded in slowly and cupped my balls against the "initial shock."

She ran right in and threw herself in the water and floated around on her back, nipples pointing straight up to the September sky.