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Roof Top Fireworks

By Frank Weber

Copyright ©2024


He was nineteen years old and he still lived at home. He found himself a decent paying job right across the street from the house, so everything he needed was right there for him.


The work was hard and sometimes dangerous. He worked as a plater. It was a physical job and it used a lot of dangerous chemicals. Cyanides, sulfuric and nitric and muriatic acids, arsenic and lead and nickel and a whole big garbage bag full of things he would never want to knowingly touch. But he did it anyway because he had to.


The job was close to home and it was paying him a little more than minimum wage, so it was a perfect starter job. It gave him the chance to take his time and look for his own place, and even keep his eyes open for a better job. More than anything, he wanted to get out on his own and live his own life, but it was a lot harder than he thought it would be.


He met Joyce there at work. She wasn’t really glamorous or sophisticated at all but she was a cute, simple, no-nonsense kind of girl and she liked him. And, she was a few years older than him, so she had that going for her. He didn’t mind anything at all about ages. If she wanted to be with him, that was good enough. He hoped that she really did want to be with him.


Her brother, Artie, worked in that same shop, right alongside him. Joyce worked in QC and whenever he walked from the production floor to his workbench, he could see her through the QC doors. And she always seemed to be looking right back at him whenever he looked at her. He felt pretty good about that and soon the thought of asking her out began to occupy his time more than anything else.


One afternoon, Artie nudged his arm.


Hey, man. You should go out with my sister. She likes you.


You think so? What makes you think so?


She told me…how do you think I know? She’s a partier. I think you guys would have fun.


The rest of the shift, his mind was flooded with images and hopes of seeing her outside of work. He thought about things they could do and some of the places he wanted to take her. At the end of their shift, he walked out at the same time as Artie.


Did you ask her out yet?


Not yet. I think I will tomorrow. I’m thinking about getting some wine Saturday afternoon and going to the beach. Maybe grilling at my house once it gets dark. What do think?


You just gotta watch yourself if you’re going to go drinking with her.


He instantly went on the defensive thinking he might have just blown his chance.

I wouldn’t do anything, Artie! I’m not like that!


No, no, no. That’s not what I mean. Not you. She IS that way when she drinks.


WHAT way?


Horny.” And with that, Artie continued to pack up his things and get ready for the long weekend away from work.


He stalled, pretending to check the breakroom newspaper for ‘something’ so that everyone else, including Artie, would leave for the night before him. Then he was all alone in the breakroom. Most of the shift had gone. She was working a little OT, so it was down to him and Joyce, the third shift QC girl and a couple of the third-shift platers out on the shop floor. He had some privacy. The nervousness wrenched his gut.


He threw it all back and out of mind and strutted straight into QC, pushing open both doors as he did. He definitely announced his presence with the strained creaking and whooshing of those doors. She turned and saw him there and smiled at him. She turned back to her microscope and her inspections.


Hey, Joyce…


Yeah?” she said without looking up.


Would you like to go to the beach with me tomorrow afternoon? I was thinking we have some wine on the beach and then in the evening, I can grill for you back at my house.


By now, his heart was thumping so hard inside his chest he was afraid she could hear it.


Sure! That sounds like a lot of fun! I love wine and I love the beach and I love BBQ!


The nervous thumping was overtaken by waves of tingling warmth and excitement.

At first, he wasn’t sure that it really happened, that she really wanted to go on a date with him.

But it was true. And she did.


She got to his house a little earlier than they planned, trying to avoid the holiday traffic on the highway. He had a bottle of Chianti. She surprised him with some seafood takeout. Small lobster tails, shrimp, scallops and hush-puppies. What a girl! And off they went for the beach.


He knew some of the best spots along the lakeshore for ‘private’ picnics. Those spots that most people avoid because it takes more than a little effort to get to them, but boy, once you got there…


They parked on the side of the road and packed up the wine and food and towels.


They hiked down through the woods, over the railroad tracks, following the trails down the steep slopes to the cliffs overhanging the beach.


From the cliffs, all you could see was the lake, you couldn’t see down to the beach below. Once they got there, they could only be seen from the water. They just had to keep an eye out for wandering boats, but they didn’t usually come over this far, so he figured they would be ok.


She loved the hike and she began to beam when she saw that they would have to almost-rappel to get down to the beach. It wasn’t that harsh, but they each made a show of it for the other.


None of that mattered once they set foot on the small arc of secluded beach that would entertain their date. She walked back and forth in the break a couple times, looking around, taking it all in.

He began to unpack and get things set. Then she hopped toward him.


“Throw me my bag, Frankie.” He pulled out her small pack and tossed it over to her.


She caught it and pulled out her bikini. That’s all that she brought with her. And she didn’t miss a beat. She took off all her clothes, right there in front of him, and slowly – and deliberately – put on her string bikini. She knew she had his full attention and she wanted his eyes to stay on her. They did. Just the way she wanted.


He took off his shirt and threw it back behind him on the sand and moved toward her.


They met each other, standing in the soft sand, bathed in sun-soaked hugs and a deep, wet kiss – their first kiss. He held her in his arms and he did not want to let go. She pulled back and looked at him with a playful, hungry smile.


C’mon! Let’s swim!” And she pulled him by the hand and they crashed through the foam of the break-water. She pulled him down on top of her, both of them falling into the waves. They swam together and they hugged each other and they kissed as lovers do. He never felt such a reckless abandon before in his life, but he loved the feeling. He was in it.


They were up to their waists in the water now and their embraces became much more personal. Her hands pulled at his shorts. His hands found their way inside her bikini bottom. They groped each other and tasted each other for the longest time. In the waves. Under the sun. In their own little, private universe. There was no one else in the world. Once again, she took him by the hand and led him back onto the beach and their blankets and towels.


The wine began to flow and they sat down for a few bites of lunch, but neither one of them wanted that kind of food. They both knew exactly what the other was thinking the second they looked into each other’s eyes. And they went with it.


She leaned against him and kissed him deeply. As she pulled back from the kiss, her tongue still licked at his mouth and she bit at his lips.


She reached behind her and untied her top and let it fall one onto the blankets. She laid back next to him and put her hands up behind her head. The beautiful, wonderful bare flesh shining in the sunlight. Every bit of her offered to him, and only him.


He leaned over her and kissed her and let his fingers and hands explore her body more. She directed his hands to the spots she wanted him to touch and he willingly followed her lead.

She pulled at his shorts, more aggressively now and they were partly off, down to his thighs.


Now it was her turn and her fingers explored him and she knew right where to be, and she held his throbbing cock firm, but still let him slide through her fingers. He was raging hard in her hands, and as he pulled at her bikini bottom, he could feel the heat and the wetness from her excitement on his fingers. He lifted his hand and sucked on his fingertips.She smiled and let her head fall back.


They were both naked there together on the blankets and towels. No one around them. No one to disturb them. No one to stop them. And she pulled him on top of her.


He slid into her, so deep inside of her, and it was so natural and felt so…right to him.Her heat. Her scent. The velvet-touch of her body pulling him deeper inside.Her beneath him, pulling him down and pulling him deeper with every stroke. He kept a slow and steady pulse with each thrust of his cock into her…a deep, dramatic pulse.Neither of them felt like ‘kids’ anymore.

They weren’t there for a quick bang, and they weren’t there for a little head.

They were there to join each other in the most intimate way their young hearts would allow.

So they did.


He felt her hot breath in his ear and she whispered to him.

Don’t hold back any longer. Cum inside of me. Don’t pull out. Pleeeeaaase, don’t pull out.

And he didn’t. His breathing heavied and each thrust was more forceful than the last. And he gave her exactly what she wanted. And he came inside of her. He fell over to her side and they both laid there in the late afternoon sun. They didn’t speak and they didn’t move. They were just there together. No need for anything more.


The sun began to set and they still had a climb and a hike just to get back to the truck. And then it was a half-hour drive back to his house. He rolled to one side facing her.


We should start packing up, Joyce. I want to take you back to my house before the fireworks start.


She only smiled, never saying a word, just nodding. They both stood up, still completely naked and brushed off as much sand as they could. It was at that moment that one of those rare wandering boats meandered close to their shoreline. He caught sight of the boat and it was pretty easy to see the folks in the boat were gawking at them. He nudged her and motioned toward the boat. She let out a giggle and bent over and shook her bare ass at them. It was then that he saw there were kids in the boat! He told her in a panic, but she brushed it off.


Well then, their parents shouldn’t have come in so close to shore just to peep at our asses!


The boat sped away. They got dressed. They climbed back up to the trail and hiked back to the truck. And they drove back to his house, not talking all that much along the way. They could feel the sting of fresh sunburns and they could smell the tanning oils and lotions soaked into their skin. The truck smelled like ‘summer’.


They got back at dusk and the summer sun was beginning its drop into the horizon. They took a long, hot, steamy shower together and they soaped each other’s bodies with a generous lather. Everything they were doing they were doing together.


It felt as if they were married already. His parents were gone from the house for the whole holiday weekend so it felt like it was their house, too.

That was a dangerous kind of thinking for him, but it was exactly the kind of thinking she wanted.


They barely wore any clothes at all after their shower.

When they went out to the back patio to start the fire in the kettle grill, the sky was beginning to darken, just slightly enough that some stars were beginning to shine through the purplish-reddened sunset.

He brought out a platter of thick country ribs and a big bowl of mopping sauce.

Another bottle of wine.


By the time the time the ribs were grilled and seared with a slight char on the edges, the night sky was above them. The sky was clear enough that they could see every star in it. They could see the black of the sky above, but the horizon was still streaked with that faint tint from the fading summer sun.


Fireworks will start soon.


She wasn’t sure what that meant. His house was in the city, not the country. There were buildings and wires and poles all around them. What difference would it make when the fireworks started?


C’mon. Give me a hand with this.” She skeptically followed him to the garage.


He opened the door and left it up with the inside lights on. He went over to the side wall and motioned for her to help him with the ladder. They walked the thirty-foot ladder out of the garage and around to the dark side of it where the yard had very little light. They propped the ladder up on the edge of the garage roof and he anchored it solid into the ground.


Grab the blanket and a bottle of wine and hand it up to me.


Her excitement grew with each step. He climbed up onto the garage roof and held the ladder for her. She handed the wine first, then the blankets and he wedged them in the gutter while he helped her up. He spread out the blanket and laid back on it. She laid back, too. He pulled at her arm and she wiggled over next to him. There they laid, drinking wine under the stars, in the middle of the city and in a spot where they were once again invisible to the rest of the world.


There was faint music playing from the radio down on the patio. There was an occasional car or truck driving by on the street below. Once in a while a train would blaze on by on the tracks down the way. All of it, the sounds of the city around them. Such a beautiful song!


She rolled over and almost on top of him and held him in her kisses and whispers. She pulled his shorts down to his ankles. She took hers completely off. She stroked his skin and she felt him harden in her fingers.


She bent over and took him in her mouth. So gently, so lovingly that he couldn’t see or feel anything but her. Her lips. Her tongue. The wanting heat of her hungry mouth.


This can’t be real!


She gave him one last, long lick and a kiss on the tip and pulled herself over on top of him. She wiggled her hips just so and he slid inside of her with no effort at all.


And they made love on the garage roof. Under the stars. Under the opal-blackening, star-speckled skies. Slow and dramatic thrusts, made by both of them. And then they heard the popping sound in the distance. The fireworks had begun.


He rolled them over, never breaking their embrace, still inside her. He laid her gently on her back and said, “Watch them.” She opened her eyes and the sky was filled with the brilliant blues and reds and whites of burning fireworks, and her excitement grew. So did the pulling thrusts from her hips. She began to groan and she clawed at his back, pulling him closer with every push inside her.


She tried to keep her eyes open to see the fireworks in the sky above them, but it was hard to juggle those fireworks with the sparks flying between them. She gave in to the physical rush she felt and she felt the vibrations beginning in her. And with one last pull, pulling him into her as far as he could go, she held him there and she came. She came hard. She screamed and she thrashed. And she came. And he came with her. Explosive climax from within each of them.


And the fireworks came with them, too. That explosive climax filled the sky as they lay there in total exhaustion, both still trembling from the effect of each other’s bodies.


They fell asleep in each other’s arms. Both naked up on the garage roof. The city had fallen asleep and there was no one around to see them. And they slept together.


The warm summer breeze tickled his neck and woke him sometime before dawn. He gently nudged her shoulder.


Wake up, Babe. It’s almost dawn. Let’s get down from here and go inside. I’ll take you to sleep in a cozy bed.


She stirred enough to understand him and she carefully followed down the ladder and into the house. He locked the doors and they fell into bed. And they slept for hours doing nothing more than holding each other, both afraid to let go.


That was a dangerous kind of thinking for him, and it was exactly the kind of thinking she wanted.

About Frank Weber:  

Frank Weber is a freelance writer from Erie, Pennsylvania. He has been published in several print and digital magazines, local interest books and advertising campaigns as both writer and model. His work encompasses a firm conviction, a simple honesty in written word and enough of a raw edge to make people feel what they read. Website:

Twitter: @frankietatts_

Instagram: @frankietatts

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