Free A Calling to Thrall by Jena Cryer Page B

to lose your virginity,” he says.
“You sure you want to do this?”
    I don't speak. I just tug at his trunks. His cock
bulges at the water-logged material, and when he finally tosses his
pants on the same branch as mine, I'm just as floored as
always.
    “I always forget how huge you are,” I say, and he
smiles before kissing me hard.
    “You're not scared, are you?”
    “If it can fit in my mouth, I'm sure it can squeeze
in down here.”
    I press his hand harder against my cunt. He reaches
inside me before crooking his finger and stroking me on that one
oh-so-special spot. I gasp. My back arches. The Jet Ski bobs
beneath us, and David loops one arm around my back before pulling
me closer.
    “Come here, baby. Just climb on.”
    His cock stands hard and strong in front of me. My
pussy is so hot I can barely stand it. I need him inside me. I have
to have him inside me.
    I should be more careful. Jet Ski’s aren't very
stable under normal conditions, but when you pair that with two
horny teenagers desperate for their first fuck, accidents are bound
to ensue. We both shift our weight to the left at the same time.
The Jet Ski tips dangerously to the side. I try to regain my
balance, but I can't. David and I hit the water at the same time. I
spit out mouthfuls of dirt while trying to get the grime out of my
eyes. Hardly a foot beneath me, muddy silt engulfs my knees.
    “Shit, I didn't know it was so shallow here. Come
on, David, we need to—”
    Then I see David, and my heart stops.
    “Oh, God. Oh, God, David, are you okay?”
    He doesn't answer me. His eyes are open, but they
don't move. Blood flows down his face. A hardened cypress knee juts
from the water, and its bark is stained red from where his temple
struck.
    He slips under the water, and I grab him.
    “No, David, come on. Wake up. Wake up. Please, wake
up!”
    I slap his face, but he doesn't even blink. I can't
even tell if he's breathing.
    “It's okay,” I say more for my benefit than his.
“You're going to be okay. Just sit right here. I'll go get
help.”
    I climb back on the Jet Ski—thank God it didn't flip
all the way over—but when I try to rev the motor, all I hear is a
sputter, then a gurgle, then nothing at all.
    What the hell?
    I try it again, and the same thing happens. Only on
the fourth try do I realize what's wrong. Silt must have clogged
the intake. Jet skis do fine in open water, but if you try to run
them through mud, of course they'll fuck up.
    I turn back to David. I can’t tell if he’s
breathing. Oh, God, is he even alive? My heart pounds against my
breastbone. There's so much blood, way too much. I grab our
swimsuits off the branch above me before splashing down in the
rust-colored water beside my boyfriend. He doesn't move when I
press his trunks against the freely-bleeding wound and tie my own
swimsuit tightly around his head to keep the make-shift bandage in
place.
    “Stay here,” I tell him. “I'll be back with help.
Just stay here.”
    Of course he doesn't respond, but I can't think
about what that might mean. I have to go. I have to go now.
    Half-walking and half-crawling, I claw my way
through Moon Lake's swampy grove. Frogs jump to my left and right.
I see a snake slither across a half-sunken log. I'm scared beyond
all belief, both for myself and David, but I have to get to help.
Right now, that's all that matters.
    I've almost reached dry land when I see a flash of
color to my left. It's a man. He's carrying a fishing pole in one
hand and a tackle box in the other. He stares at me as I rise out
of the water, but I can't deal with the shame of my nakedness right
now.
    “Please,” I run up to him. “You've got to help me.
There was an accident, and—”
    “Easy,” he says. “Just calm down. Does anyone know
you're here?”
    I shake my head. “No, that's what I'm trying to tell
you. There was an accident. My boyfriend's back there, and he's
hurt, and nobody knows where we are, and I have to get help.
Please, you've