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The Summer Youth Corp offered urban youngsters summer employment. The pay was meager, but the work was easy. The city’s day camp transportation program included college kids on summer break supervised by regular staff.

Donna was a student at Hunter College with an eye toward Columbia Law School. The moment I met her, she became the object of my deepest yearning. I was love bitten by this deep dark chocolate beauty with a lustrous sheen and a smile that breathed life into any room. She worn her hair cropped short in an afro cut. She was trim but curvy in all the right places. She exuded sexuality, without being sluttish. The sum of her parts added up to sheer perfection.

And, Donna was friendly to a fault, making every man feel that he had a chance with her. But, it was just her affinity for male associates. Dozens of guys, including married staff members, tried hard to date her, but to no avail. But, she and I did have a special connection, just not the type I craved.

At our mid-summer office party at Orchard Beach, a burnt-orange sun hanging just above the horizon, I chased her into the surf, lured by her scandalous two-piece. Flirtatious play soon morphed into a more serious game, our wet bodies mingling below the murky waters. She must have felt my rock hard desire rubbing against her pelvis because she started to flee.

With the others looking on from the beach, I rushed and caught up to her, locking my arms around her. I fully expected her to demand I stop, but she didn’t. In fact, a naughty look washed over her face, with her seeming to enjoy her temporary confinement. I gently lifted her off her feet, my hands supporting her slender thighs.

Using the tips of my fingers, I nimbly pulled aside the diaphanous curtain of swimwear safeguarding her crotch. With her still thrashing and screaming in moot protest, I launched my maleness up the full length of her shaft. Her voice fell suddenly mute. Then her eyelashes fluttered and her legs coiled around my waist like twin pythons.

With my hands scaffolding her soft, wet bottom, her body, rendered nearly weightless by the water, rose and fell to the rhythm of my subtle thrust. Her palms pressed flat against my chest, she pleaded feebly for me to withdraw. As her resistance slowed, seconds from my ejaculation, I reached to kiss her on the lips.

When I did, she screamed “oh hell no”; slapped me hard on the face and wrestled away from me violently. Shocked by her attack, I let go. She then turned and waded resolutely back to shore. I couldn’t follower her because of my erection, less the whole of the beach learn of my lustful intentions.

For weeks she ignored me, but finally she opened up when I surprised her with a cherry cheesecake peace offering. I tried to apologize, but she cut me off in route to a single question.

“You didn’t cum inside me did you? Please, say you didn’t.”

“No, but I want to apologize…” Before I could complete my sentence, Donna stopped me with a raise of her hand. The look in her eyes signaled the end of our special bond. Giving in to an adolescent impulse I had sacrificed our friendship. I told myself that I had done nothing more that give her was she wanted. But, as time passed, I would come to realize how wrong I was and regret the lost.