This year Jean and I celebrated our thirty-sixth wedding anniversary. I pause occasionally to glance at my wife, when she first crawls out of bed in the mornings with her white curls all tangled and snarled, or when she lays a loving hand on one of our grandchildren, and there is not one thing I would alter about her or our life together. Our hands unconsciously intertwine, even now, when we walk through a shopping mall or when we stroll along a deserted beach.
When I cup her breast or lean against her from behind, goose bumps still dance across her skin. She is one fine looking woman, more beautiful to me now than when we first encountered each other many years ago.
The memory of our first kiss still emanates through my body like the warmth of fine wine and to this day, she still brandishes her special power over me.
* * * * *
We met in college, Jean and I, fumbling through classes, trying to find a balance between books and beer. Groceries were never included in the budget, so the cupboards overflowed with Ramen noodles and peanut butter. We pooled our resources and shared a small house within driving distance of campus and our competitive natures got us through four fantastic years together. We never dated or became intimate. I had never kissed her, I mean really kissed her, even once, for fear that it might smother the natural bond we felt for each other. We became good friends. Bantering back and forth, exchanging jokes, horsing around and maybe, just maybe, I should have made my move sooner because all the signs pointed towards a favorable relationship, but the opportunity never seemed to present itself.
We shared it all, from towels to toothpaste. We studied together, partied together, cried together, and shared our deepest, darkest secrets on cold nights when the wind blew and snow buried the path to our cars. She had her friends and I had mine. At the ripe old age of twenty-three, her interest focused on older men, while at eighteen I was still enjoying my first tastes of freedom.
After graduation, we both took jobs in our respective fields. I went to Seattle and Jean headed for Wichita, but we still kept in touch by letter or phone when we had a chance. The years slid by and on my thirtieth birthday, I was still single. I had given up the dating scene. Everyone I knew was now married or divorced. Occasionally someone new would come along but it never panned out. Maybe I was too fussy.
That year my grandfather passed away and I inherited “Shady Oak.”
Gramps had held me close many nights after my parents died. A drunk driver had swerved into our lane and hit us head on. The squealing tires, the busting glass, and the screams still haunt me. I was fourteen. Gramps and grandma had taken me under their wing and I had lived with them in their old farmhouse until I left for the university seeking my degree in industrial aviation. Grandma passed away during those years. I visited Gramps often. His favorite stories centered around the oil fields of Kansas and the oak tree that sat on his property. Each time I visited, he made me swear to preserve that old tree.
Jean picked me up at the airport. We shared memories and a few laughs over several cups of coffee. It felt good to hear a familiar voice. She chauffeured me from Gramps house to the church and stood by my side as they lowered the casket into the ground.
It surprised me how many friends Gramps had. Every pew was full. Jim and Connie Hackart were there. He and Gramps had grown up together, served in the military together, and worked the oil fields of Kansas side by side. I had known him forever. He lived about five miles south of my grandfather’s place. Gramps had met Connie in high school, he never cared for her that much. She loved to gossip and when she got older Gramp’s would refer to her as their own personal “Yenta.” “That woman thinks she knows more about everyone in this county than they know about themselves!” He would yell at their car as it pulled out of the driveway and slam the door behind him. I guarantee Connie noticed Jean at my side and I silently laughed knowing her wheels were spinning in overdrive!
Jim’s age showed, he now walked with a cane. He made it a point to come over and give me his condolences then he asked if I planned to return to Kansas. I told him that was my plan. He volunteered to take care of Gramp’s horses until I got everything sorted out.
After the funeral, Jean drove me back to the airport, waiting and waving on the tarmac until the jet lifted off.
It took a couple of months to get my affairs in order, one day blurred into the next. The house in Seattle sold quicker than I had expected which freed up enough money to hire professionals to move my belongings from Seattle to Kansas. I arranged an in-house transfer to the Wichita facility. That meant a long commute from the country into the heart of the Air Capital of America but it also meant that the time I had vested in the company would not be lost.
Moving day finally arrived, the packers had boxed and labeled my belongings the day before. They were loading those items and what furniture I had into the moving van while I packed my car. The last thing I did was call Jean to let her know I was on the road.
The house sat on sixteen acres on the outskirts of Wichita, butted up against the newly built turnpike that linked the northern and southern borders of Kansas. Built in the late eighteen hundreds, the house did have some modern conveniences such as indoor plumbing and electricity, but it lacked central air and heat. An old wood stove monopolized one corner of the dining room, in the other corner sat my grandmother’s spinning wheel. She knew how to spin but that spinning wheel had sat in that corner for years, merely as a decoration. My grandmother used that room to feed some thirty cowhands at the turn of the century. There used to be bunkhouses on the property to house the men. I never saw them. Gramps told me that they sat vacant for a number of years and those burned down long before I was born.
An old barn filled with tools stood about seventy-five yards from the house. Inside sat the sleigh that Gramps used in the winter to gather wood for the stove. When we went to visit at Christmas, if there was enough snow, he would hitch Thunder and Storm to that old sleigh and attach large sleigh bells to the their harnesses. We would all pile onto the two red leather seats bundled from head to toe in ski hats, woolen scarves, and down jackets. Grandma would bundle hot bricks near our feet, and then Gramps would snap the reins. The horses would prance through the snow, the bells would jingle, and we would ride away like a scene on a Hallmark Christmas card.
My favorite spot, the place that held the most memories of the summers I had spent with my grandparents, was under the branches of the old oak tree that grew between the house and the barn. It was a massive tree, hollow at the base, large limbs shooting off each side. Its gnarly roots stuck out of the ground creating pockets so you could sit and lean against its trunk as though the old tree wanted to share whispered tales of wagon trains, pioneers, buffalo, and railroads. Gramps had told me that he had bought the land because he fell in love with that old tree and that it was over a hundred years old when he built the house. I had spent many hot summer days beneath the shade of that tree with a book in my hand.
It felt good to be home.
* * * * *
Within a few weeks, I had learned how to maneuver the freeways of Wichita. It took a bit longer than that to get all my belongings set up the way I liked them. There were projects that needed attention but overall the house was in good shape. One weekend, I moved two wobbly Adirondack chairs into the barn for some fresh paint and much-needed repairs. I was afraid that Jim or Connie would stop over, sit in one, and topple over. Those two chairs had symbolically guarded the front door for as long as I could remember and were the first thing you saw when you stepped onto the porch.
I thought I had heard a car door slam while I hammered away in the barn but I disregarded it and continued working on the chairs. A few minutes later, I heard Jean yelling at the top of her lungs.
“I brought dinner and some paint brushes! Where would you like me to put them?” She stood beside her car waiting for an answer.
“Just a sec,” I yelled back, wiping my hands on my jeans as I ran over to her. “Let’s take them in the house.” I said as I took the casserole dish and picked up the lid to get a peek at what was inside. Then I looked at her and winked. “Where’s yours?”
She slapped my wrist then scolded, “That’s for dinner, get your fingers out of there!”
“But it smells so good!” I tried to put on my best-rebuffed little boys face. “And to think I had my heart set on a cold turkey sandwich but I suppose, if you twist my arm, I’ll have to settle for this.” I grinned.
It really did smell good. My mouth was watering as I tucked it away in the refrigerator.
“And these,” I handed her the paintbrushes she had brought, “we can use in the barn. Come on out and give me a hand.”
She fell in love with the sleigh when she saw it. I knew she would.
“That is the most beautiful, romantic…you are,” she emphasized, “going to take me for rides in it, aren’t you?”
“Yep, if there’s enough snow!” I grinned, and teasingly added, “You know, I often wonder if Gramps and Grandma christened that sleigh, whatcha think?”
She ignored me and picked up a paintbrush.
I slid up behind her and whispered in her ear, “You know, I just bought a new four poster bed, want to help me break it in?”
She laughed and slapped my chest with the paintbrush. “In your dreams!”
We finished the chairs in a few hours then went back to the house. I lit the gas range and set the timer waiting for it to preheat. While I was busy gathering plates and setting the table, Jean wandered around the house. She liked the old wood stove but questioned my ability to split the wood needed to keep the house warm in the winter. I told her I could always get a wood splitter if the axe got too heavy. Then she eyed the spinning wheel.
“Careful, the spindle is sharp.” I now reprimanded her.
“What happens if I prick my finger? Whatdaya think? Will I sleep for a hundred years?” She grinned as she ran her hands over the antique.
“Probably, then I’ll have to wake you and there’s no telling which set of lips I will choose to kiss first!”
“Stop it!” She grinned.
* * * * *
The following weekend was stifling. I wrapped a towel around my waist after climbing out of a nice cold shower and opened all the windows hoping to capture a stray breeze but the hot, muggy Kansas air continued to cling to every inch of my skin. I wished that Gramps had modernized and added air conditioning but instead an old swamp cooler sat on the porch. It simply pumped more moisture into the already dripping air. Regrettably, I had used the last of my savings to get the house rewired. Each time I switched on the television and turned on the toaster the lights would flicker and I had to run down to the basement to replace a fuse. Hindsight did not factor in at this point, so I slipped on my swimsuit, grabbed an ice-cold beer, and sat in my favorite spot under the shade of the old oak tree. Then I heard the phone ring.
“Hey guy, whatdaya doing?” Jean cheerfully asked.
“Trying to beat this miserable heat, whatcha need?” I replied as I wiped a few drops of perspiration off my brow.
“I’ve invited some friends over for a swim and there’s cold beer by the pool. Thought you might like to join us some time this afternoon.”
“I’ll be right over,” I said without hesitation. “Want me to stop and pick up something at the quick shop. Ice, beer, pop?”
“Nope, just bring that sexy body and a smile. I’ll see you in a bit!”
Within the hour, I had made myself at home and was sampling a sandwich in the Jean’s dining room. A kerthunking sound and a splash filtered in from the backyard as someone dove into the pool. Within minutes, Jean laughingly came through the back door, sauntered over beside me, and butted her hip against mine.
“Glad you could make it!” she said smiling, handing me another sandwich. “Here, try this one,” she said holding the small piece of meat and bread up to my mouth.
Taking it from her hand, I thanked her and applauded her on her improved culinary skills.
“Well,” I laughed, recalling her first attempt at a gourmet dish while we shared the small house back in college. “At least there’s no need for a fire extinguisher this time!” She had gathered the last of our loose change for a bottle of rum, and had spent hours dicing and slicing, then added the rum to the sautéed vegetables, and lit it. I laughed so hard my eyes watered watching her dance around the kitchen yelling “Oh shit!” “Oh shit!” “Oh shit!” as the skillet flamed and the stove ignited where she had spilled the precious rum.
“You jerk! I haven’t burned anything in ages!” she laughingly exclaimed as she shoved the sandwich in my mouth. “You didn’t complain about my cooking last weekend. In fact, you didn’t even want to share!”
“So, who’s coming over?” I asked, still laughing between bites. “Do I know anyone?” I leaned over and gave her a friendly peck on the cheek.
Jean put her arm around my waist and let her hand slide down across the back of my slacks. It was a casual “feel” but I noticed it!
“I think you have met Angie and her husband, Darrel.” She looked around and pointed at another couple with her sandwich, “I’m sure you know my brother John and his wife Carol.” Rolling her eyes she simply stated, “I pretty much asked everyone I know to stop by for a drink and a dip in the pool.” Crinkling her nose, she stood on tiptoe and scanned the guests trying to see over their shoulders then kissed me on the cheek and said musingly, “Make yourself at home, grab a beer, there’s plenty outside by the pool.” She patted a paper napkin across my brow then continued, “Can you believe how stuffy it is out there today?”
“Tell me about it,” I said as I shook my head in agreement, “And thanks again for the invite, I could sell tickets to my place. It’s as hot as a sauna, all you need is some eucalyptus leaves to spice up the air!”
“Yep, I bet it is! Go jump in the pool and cool off, I’ll be out in a bit as soon as I get my swimsuit on.” She gave my shirt a friendly tug, and headed towards the kitchen making a sharp left up the staircase to change.
I changed into my swim trunks and headed out back to the swimming pool. I sunk slowly into the cool refreshing water with a beer in my hand then climbed aboard an air mattress and lay back enjoying the sun.
I had just taken a sip of my beer when Jean came out the back door. She wore a skimpy baby pink bikini. I nearly choked. I had never seen that much bare skin, let alone her skin, displayed that openly. Sidetracked by one of her friends she stopped to talk while glancing over at me. I held up my beer in mock salute and she returned my wave then blew me a kiss before returning her attentions to her company.
Sitting sidesaddle on the air mattress with both legs dangling in the water, I bobbed up and down watching her and the way her full tanned breasts overflowed the tiny wisp of fabric tied around her chest. Her breasts jiggled and bumped against each other like small round melons when she walked. When she sat and crossed those long legs, you know, the way girls do, with the ankles twisted, she caught my attention on that hot thirsty day like a mirage in the New Mexico desert.
Peeking over my sunglasses, I laid back and admired the way her body curved in at the waist and flared back out at the hip, my eyes never left her, or her heart shaped butt the rest of the day.
I watched as she chatted, engrossed in conversation, twisting her hips and that tiny waist, leaning over to share a witty interpretation of some new artist or music she had discovered. Then she would lean back and let out a great peal of laughter that spilled out of her and always had others laughing with her. Her gentle camaraderie, her subtle wit, and the way her face beamed with a down to earth, comfortable, and charming manner drew people to her in the same way that it had the first day we met. It was no wonder she had a horde of friends streaming in and out of her house on that hot Saturday afternoon.
She soon dove into the pool and swam over along side me. I leaned over and offered her my hand. She swung her slender leg over the air mattress and settled behind me with her arms wrapped around my waist.
“Let’s see if we can take them out!” She giggled leaning against my back. We paddled around the pool using our hands to propel ourselves, laughing, and splashing, kicking up water and leaving empty mattresses floating all around us, until an onrush of her friends toppled both of us and we plummeted into the water. She giggled as she splashed with both hands. Then I dunked her and dove beneath the water to find she had escaped and had started to swim towards the ladder, burying me with tons of water in her wake.
I pulled myself back onto the air mattress and lay in the hot sun downing a couple more beers. A call of nature forced me from the pool, so I rolled off the air mattress into the water and headed inside to find the bathroom occupied.
As I stood outside Jean’s bedroom door, I noticed an open book lying on her bed, bedraggled and dog-eared, the spine so damaged I was surprised no pages were hanging out.
I slipped into her bedroom and picked up the well-worn book, recognizing the cover. I knew these publications well and knew they always got steamy reviews. I judged from the titles of the books that cluttered the shelves on a nearby bookcase that she definitely enjoyed reading erotic material. Laughing to myself and shaking my head, I never suspected that she held any interest in that area. My long held assessment of her had always been the “girl-next-door,” the “untouched innocent.”
I decided to place the paperback, front cover side down on her nightstand after looking around and thinking she might not want the neighbors to find this laying around. As I rounded the bed, I slipped and hit my toe on the edge then instinctively grabbed my bruised foot as the book fumbled out of my hands and into the air landing open on the bed. Still squeezing my foot with both hands, my little toe throbbed as I gingerly sat on the bed and gazed down at an obviously well read passage. I continued to rub my foot while picking up the book and reading a few more paragraphs. Actually, I felt that I had invaded her privacy by the time I got through the first page. I found myself checking out more of the pages she had marked. Then, as though being hit with a bolt of lightening, I realized that these pages were an insight into Jean’s fantasies.
Taking this one-step further, I tested the paperback by resting it on it’s spine on the night table and watched as it magically opened to the same pages repeatedly. She may or may not have experimented with any of the practices described on these pages but knowing that she had read them aroused my curiosity to a fever pitch. I peeked out the window and saw Jean still sitting and visiting beside the pool then returned to my spot on the bed, silently reading more of the sultry words. I read a few pages but soon nature reminded me why I came into the house to begin with. I laid the tattered works of revelation on the nightstand and finished my business in the bathroom.
I took the long way around her house and entered the backyard through the side gate rather than using the back door. As Jean hoisted herself out of the water, I quickly grabbed a towel off one of the lounge chairs and virtually tripped on the wet cement trying to get it over to her. Her eyes lit up when she saw me, giving me a cheeky grin, both of us laughing at my clumsiness, and then she thanked me for bringing her the towel. The bits and pieces of erotica that I had just read were causing vivid images to dance seductively around in my head. I watched as she patted that fluffy white towel against her breast. I smiled at the way she bent over, running the towel up, down, and in between those luscious long legs of hers.
The rest of the afternoon, I watched her move back and forth from the house to the pool, her bare feet busily slapping the concrete. I knew she knew I had been watching her by the way she moved, a bit more wiggle when she walked, her voice carried more solidly through the air, I heard every word, every giggle, then of course a couple of times she smiled back over her shoulder at me. Everything about her that day caused me to rethink our current dating/non-dating status. I don’t know if it was her actions or the words of the novelist that made me look at her in a new light, what I do know is she definitely held my attention in that hot afternoon sun.
Later that night, after most of the crowd had left I caught her between the doorframes of her back door as she started to scurry past and asked her if she had any plans for the following Saturday.
“No plans, I’m free, what do you have in mind?” She answered.
I suggested making reservations for dinner somewhere different from our regular haunts and taking in a movie. She quickly agreed and I left beaming as I skipped down the steps, kicking a few wayward stones off the sidewalk and got into my car.
I drove to the bookstore the next morning. I knew the name of the author and I knew exactly which book I wished to read. I spent most of that lazy afternoon with my back braced against the oak tree, reading, “researching” the words that seemed to captivate the imagination of that, what I now considered, breathtaking creature.
This particular novelist wrote about castles and kings, about two lovers and the hardships that faced them in medieval England. He created a fantasy in a historically correct setting and was more correct than I had expected for fiction…especially erotic fiction. The hero with the bronzed muscles and flowing locks of tousled hair captivated the heroine’s attentions then plunged into her wetness until she shrieked with passion. I took note of his words, enjoyed the way he fashioned each scene, and became completely enthralled as his hero overwhelmed the heroine until she begged for more.
I returned to the bookstore for more literary insight into my former roommate and the clerk informed me that this particular writer wrote under different genres and pen names. I selected two more books and hurried home to read in my favorite spot. This time the author described the antics of a couple of love struck teenagers of the 60’s, making love for the first time.
“Cloaked by the moon less darkness of a city park, he pressed her back against a tree and ravaged her, continuing the pace until he heard her cry out.”
In the second book, the scene unfolded in the back seat of a ’57 Chevy parked along with others on a hidden embankment called “Cherry Hill.”
“They kissed passionately as their hands explored each other’s sex. The two young lovers discovering each other for the first time while gazing out at the twinkling lights that outlined the horizon of the city below, using their hands to wipe away the moisture that had gathered on their steamed up windshield.”
Romantic thoughts, erotic thoughts spiraled through my brain the rest of the week. Every afternoon after work, I curled up with my back pressed against my favorite tree doing more “research.” I archived in my memory what I had read, like a set of secret instructions, I felt that I had discovered the inner workings of Jean’s fantasies. The love scenes flowed like honey. They pulled me into the scenarios until I had to set the book aside and relieve myself in the shower.
By the end of the week, I had taken so many cold showers I squeaked!
I reserved a table at the whimsical Golden Chalice for an early Saturday evening meal and checked the list of movies playing at the local theatre. White linen tablecloths with red flickering candles would get those erotic juices flowing. The romantic stage would then be set with the glimmer that extended from their central fire pit. It seemed more romantic than the usual dinner we typically shared at a fast food restaurant and more relaxed than rushing through a meal trying to make the movie on time.
I called Jean after making the reservations, to give her a heads up in case she had planned something earlier in the day and to let her know what time I would pick her up. With an excited voice, she said that she knew exactly what to wear.
Saturday evening, on my way to pick her up, I stopped at the florist and picked up some flowers. With a spring bouquet in my hand and a new bounce to my walk, I practically skipped down the walk to her front door. I pressed the doorbell, hearing it ring inside the house and felt like a seventh grader on his first date. When Jean opened the door, my jaw noticeably dropped. She was more beautiful than I could ever remember. Her hair tumbled in large curls on top of her head as tiny wisps dangled down the sides of her face.
She had created the perfect silhouette, a sophisticated beauty that far surpassed the twenty-three year old girl in her baggy sweatshirts that sported the universities logo.
She stood in the doorway wearing a stunning black form fitting dress, low in the front complimenting her breasts, and stylishly short to show off her magnificent long graceful legs. Standing in front of her, gaping, I almost forgot I had the flowers in my hand.
With a deep bow, one I had practiced repeatedly in front of the bathroom mirror for the past few days, I reached out, took her hand in mine, and gently kissed it. The pleasant surprised look on her face told me straight on that I had done something right.
“For you my Lady!” I stood back up and handed her the flowers then bowed deeply again.
“Thank you kind Sir!” Her eyes sparkled as she played along, dipping with a small curtsey, and then she kissed me gently on the cheek.
“Come on in while I put these in some water,” she called out over her shoulder as she headed to the kitchen.
I admired how her hips moved in that dress and the way her legs looked from behind, especially with those three-inch black heels. I leaned against the wall, taking in a deep, lingering breath, thinking, “How had I missed all that?”
“I’m ready. I need to get my keys.” Her voice cheerfully rang out as she dropped her keys in her small black clutch purse.
“Hello!” she giggled as she waved her hand in front of my face. “Earth to Mars, are you ready to leave?”
“God you are beautiful!” I stammered.
I continued to stand in the living room staring at her until she took my hand and led me to the door.
I had always been the “gentleman” and opened Jean’s car door but that night I added a courtly bow then raced around the back of the car to the driver’s side. When we got to the restaurant, I opened her door and held out my arm with my elbow bent, to escort her inside.
A preordered bottle of Chardonnay, nestled in ice, had already been set on the table, and the flickering candles added to the romantic ambiance of the dimly lit restaurant. It was an excellent meal, the atmosphere was enchanting, and there, across the table, sat the most beautiful woman in the entire world hanging onto every word I said.
“Life could not get any better than this!” I thought.
Once the waiter cleared our table, we sat and chatted, something we rarely had time for anymore with our busy schedules.
Soft jazz floated in the air, adding to the charm of the evening as I asked Jean to dance and led her on my arm to the dance floor. Taking her into my arms sent little bolts of lightening through my flesh, causing goose bumps to race up and down my spine. She kept herself at a safe distance through the first dance. Then she excused herself and started walking towards the ladies room. I was captivated. Her fluid waving steps reminded me of the motion that I had felt on the air mattress as I bobbed up and down in her pool the Saturday before, and the way her heels made her hips softly sway back and forth was down right enjoyable to watch. I returned to our table, sat, and continued to watch her until she disappeared through the door.
The next few minutes seemed to take a lifetime. I stood and reached for her hands when she returned, ignoring the fact that the movie should soon start, and led her back to the dance floor. Still, she kept a safe distance between us as we slow danced.
“Damn,” I thought. “I wanted her! In my arms, in my house, in my life, in my bed!” Then it hit me, she was as afraid of crossing the friendship barrier as I was. It was my move!
“Come here you,” I whispered, surprised at the huskiness that lingered in my tone. I twirled her around, placed my hand in the small of her back, and drew her up close. I expected her to pull away but instead she meshed her body against mine. I could feel her thigh brushing against the awakening hardness between my legs.
“Am I causing that?” She whispered as she rested her head against my shoulder.
“Oh yea! You are definitely causing that!” I whispered, nuzzling my chin even deeper into the soft flesh of her neck and breathing in the freshness of her hair.
She wrapped her arms around my waist and pressed even closer, again surprising me. I placed my hands below her waist on her hips, closed my eyes, and burrowed my face deeper into her flesh. Slow burning embers took over my senses as I envisioned the hero galloping at break neck speed then pulling back on the reins of his steed, dismounting and plunging his sword into the ground, then removing his helmet as he took the heroine into his arms.
Neither of us mentioned the movie. She seemed content to remain in my arms and with each dance, she pressed her body more intimately against mine. The delicious warmth of her body played with my senses as much as the intoxicating wine we had consumed. I hated the thought of the night ending. I continued to hold her in my arms as the last note filled the room then I placed my hand under her chin and raised her mouth to mine.
Blood pounded in my brain and made my knees tremble! I was weak kneed and caught off guard because of the magic that jam-packed that kiss. Her wide-eyed innocence was merely a smoke screen as her beautiful green-flecked eyes gazed into mine and I swear I could feel tiny betraying bumps rise on her forearms.
I took the initiative to invite her to my place, not knowing if she would invite me to hers.
When we got into the car, she shuffled across the seat and placed her hand in mine. Before I could get the keys in the ignition, she had moved even closer and rested her head on my shoulder. I leaned over and cupped her face in my hands reclaiming her lips. She returned the kiss with such hunger, such fervor that it sent my stomach into a wild spin! Her tongue danced and swirled, darting repeatedly in-between my parted lips as she stroked my mouth to ecstasy.
My breath caught as I moved one hand down the silky smoothness of her throat then down across the top of one breast. My fingers traced the soft swell of that sweetly curved mound. Moving closer, the passion mounting, my trembling hand slipped down inside her dress and under one breast, holding and feeling the soft warm weight move gently in my hand. My thumb gently brushed across a stiff aroused nipple. A low moan from somewhere deep inside her drew me closer as the sensuous taste of her breast lingered on my tongue.
Within minutes, we had steamed up the windows in the old Caprice. Coming up for air, I reached for the keys and slipped them into the ignition.
“My house, right?”
“Yes, your house,” she spoke softly, slowly and seductively as her hand moved down my chest, then between my thighs, resting on the zipper of my slacks.
Without warning, I could feel a cool breeze as she released my firm flesh, and the startling warmth of her wet tongue as it slid down its full length. She buried herself in my lap, the top of her head almost brushing the steering wheel. When she swallowed my organ deep into her throat, my eyes began to blur. I pulled over to the side of the road before all the blood in my body went south like geese in the winter.
Jean continued to suck on my aroused member while her fingers encircled the bottom of it. I was so hard! She sucked, holding it firm at the base, then licked across the head and sucked some more. Maneuvering from underneath the steering wheel, I raised my butt enough to allow her to pull my slacks down while I leaned my head against the seat letting her mouth perform its magic. More than once, I almost came but she seemed to sense it and backed off until I gained control, then she began to suck again. My entire being, every thought, every touch revolved around the firm flesh she held in her mouth.
“Are we there yet?” she asked, raising her head as she came up for air.
“There?” I laughed, breathing in with choppy gasps. “Oh! You mean my place?”
I looked down in wonder at this fantastic woman as she smiled back at me, holding my extended flesh at attention while running her tongue back up from the base to the tip, waiting patiently for me to answer.
“No, not even close, you had me going so bad I had to pull off the road!”
Looking down at her I removed the tie that held her hair on top of her head and watched as her curls tumbled down across her back then fell in between my thighs.
“Kiss me,” she encouraged, as she sat up and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Make love to me,” she moaned in a ragged whisper as her hot breath swirled in my ear. “Right here…Right now…” her voice trailing off as she bit down and sucked on a tendon in my neck, sending a rhapsody of warm chills spinning, from one nerve to the next, all the way from my head to my toes.
This was not what I had planned, I mean I really wanted to fuck her, but not here, not the first time. I wanted it to be in a bed, my bed, covered with satin sheets and fluffy pillows. I wanted to wake up with her in my arms after a sultry, sweaty night that left both of us winded and breathless, reaching for each other, begging for more.
Jean’s last warm request hung thick in the air as I looked around.
“Hang on, let me move the car,” I said as I pointed to a small group of trees.
I parked the car as far away from the beaten path as I could, and like two teenagers, we maneuvered ourselves into the back seat and anxiously began to undress each other. I still wore my boxers and she wore a black lacy bra with matching panties that tied on each side.
“You know, if anyone catches us…” I whispered, my voice trailing off as I traced her ear with my tongue.
“Only if they catch us…” her voice muffled as she pressed her lips together, leaned over, and took my now flaccid member back into her mouth.
Then it occurred to me, I had it all wrong! Her fantasy did not revolve around the courtly passions of knights and maidens in ancient gilded castles. No, her fantasy centered on the threat and danger of exposure like the forbidden lovers of these novels. She enjoyed the risk and excitement of possible discovery. The adrenaline flowed! Her skin bristled in the faint moon light with goose bumps rising on her stomach and breasts.
I pressed her back against the door with my mouth locked firmly against hers and reached down, cupping both her breasts in my hands. Their warmth and the hardness of each nub told me that she was as aroused as I was. I could feel the betraying wetness on the satin as I slid my hand down her stomach and in between her legs. She ended up lying on the back seat while I sat on the floorboard exploring her incredible body with my hands and mouth. I unfastened the front clasp of her bra, freeing her breasts, the straps laid loose around her shoulders. Even laying flat on her back her breasts stood up firm as my mouth sucked on them. I massaged her stomach and untied one side of her panties letting the ribbons fall on the seat while I found her clit and rolled it gently between my fingers.
Crawling back up onto the seat, I picked up both her legs and draped them over my shoulders. I grabbed her butt holding both cheeks in the palms of my hands and pulled it towards me, releasing the ribbons that still tied her panties on her other hip. I used my tongue to move from the back of her slit to the front, moving the wet satin aside as I gained more access. Trimmed close, she smelled like flowers, fresh spring flowers.
Still buried between her thighs, I moved my tongue the full length of her slit but this time inside, parting her swollen lips, then up wrapping my tongue around her clit until I heard her moan. I continued to scissor my fingers in and out of her pressing against the roof of her wet slippery sheath until she cried out.
Her body shook and writhed as she squirmed. I reached up and pinched the nipple of one breast. Her head dropped back pressing into the car seat, her hips rose, and she groaned.
I placed a hand under her butt and with my thumb began to circle her secret back passage then dipped into her wet pulsating core, back and forth, from one spot to the next while nibbling on her clit and realigning my fingers as they danced inside her.
“Oh yes, that’s it, gawd, don’t stop,” she moaned in a hushed whisper.
I had no intentions of stopping! Raising my butt and repositioning so she could get a firm grip on my full throbbing erection, I soon felt a smooth silky touch pulling my staff back. She maneuvered her tongue around it leaving wet, cool licks on my feverish flesh. Wide, wet licks that emanated from its base to its tip.
As I continued to manipulate at my end, I felt her hand on my backside, gently kneading and spreading my cheeks as her fingers trickled down between the cleft of my butt. The crisp, cool evening breeze swept against my behind, then down seizing my balls, making my cock flinch and twitch. With a well thought out and planned tactical maneuver on her part, she suddenly pressed a very slim tiny finger into my ass, brushing my prostrate.
A thunderous hiss pushed up from deep inside my tightened diaphragm, sounding like a rapidly deflating tire.
Startled! Stunned! It felt good! Genuinely fine! She had taken the lead! Raising the ante!
Surprising me yet again!
“Damn,” I thought, “she had definitely been paying attention when she read those books!”
Then I prayed, “Aw God, have a heart, don’t let me go off!” as I moved my butt out of her range.
I dove between her legs, and pulled her ass close! Our eyes met as she looked down and saw my impersonation of Kilroy, gripping her slit with both hands, my eyes peeking over her mound, determined not to let her out gun me.
“Yes Sir!” I thought as I continued to lick and stare into her eyes. “Torpedo launched!” A wicked grin started to take shape on my face, “Shall we return fire Sir?”
I penetrated her deep with my tongue, slid it across the roof of her slit, reached up and savagely squeezed and pinched each breast, clamped my lip covered teeth down on her clit, then I pressed MY thumb into HER ass!
She grabbed her breasts and began to squeeze and pinch at both. Her hips bucked and bumped up against a triumphant grin that stretched across my face. I licked my parched lips and my breathing grew more ragged as it turned into short shallow intakes of air. The smell of her womanly essence overpowered the flowery scent and captivated my senses as it filled the small space inside the car. I buried my face between her legs, my fingers rifling in and out of her slit like a Gatlin Gun with a revolving barrel until her orgasm subsided.
Slowly, turning, letting her catch her breath, I laid down on her, moving back and forth on her writhing glistening mass, up and down her full length, stopping to bite a nipple, kiss her mouth, her neck, her stomach, then back up capturing her mouth again and again. Lacing her fingers in mine, I pulled her arms up over her head and pressed my mouth down on hers rallying all the energy I could muster as I felt the hardness of my sex at her entrance.
The heat! The built up passion! I could not get enough of her! I needed to push my iron-hard flesh into her warmth, in so deep that she would press against the spot where the sperm began its ascent. I needed to bury my cock deep inside her! Her hand guided my rigid tool into her slit, the wet slippery warmth against the head made my body tremble as I slowly pushed in until I could feel her warm butt pressed against my balls.
Closing my eyes, I started to pump. The heels of her feet dug into the seat as her back began to arch. I could feel the familiar spasms rising from deep inside her as another orgasm overwhelmed her. Focused and centered, my entire mind thought of nothing except the sensations of her flesh against mine.
Peppery hot, sensuous pressure bulldozing against my straining erection fueled my senses as my cock dug for a place to shoot its jism. Gritting my teeth, I felt the glide of hot cum rising as I forgot to take a breath, my back arched, my legs shook, my balls clenched, and my head jerked back!
Then release! I shot deep inside her, my muscles rippled and quaked! Then I shot again, my body trembled and shook! Holding her hands over her head, I leaned forward and devoured her mouth, kissing her hard, while my body rode the whirlwind!
Falling back, my chest heaved while drops of perspiration fell from my brow. I rolled onto my side pressing my back against the seat, my erection withering inside her, I drew her close, fondling her breast and wrapped my legs around her.
Still embracing, catching our breath, Jean started to laugh. She pointed at the steamed up windows.
“See, nobody caught us!” She smirked, kissing the tip of my nose.
“God, you’re beautiful!” I whispered.
* * * * *
The next morning I awoke to the smell of bacon frying. Jean was wearing one of my grandmother’s bib aprons and nothing else. I leaned up against her, reaching under the apron and cupped her breasts as I peeked over her shoulder while she turned each splattering slice in the skillet.
“Morning beautiful!” I kissed her neck.
“Any plans this morning?” I asked.
“Nothing that can’t be changed, whatdaya have in mind?” she turned and kissed me pressing her warm body intimately against mine.
“I was thinking we might take Thunder and Storm out for a ride. They need the exercise. You do ride don’t you?”
“Didn’t you ask me that last night? I thought I rode pretty well in that over sized bed of yours!” She smirked.
“Yeah you did!”
I pulled her close, turned off the gas to the stove, and we made love right there on the kitchen floor.
We showered then she asked as she toweled off, “Do you have any jeans I can use, all I have is my dress?”
“Nope!” I laughingly said.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Then what am I going to wear?”
“Nada! Zilch! Nothing! We’re headed out into God’s country…Naked!”
“You’re kidding, right?” She was laughing hysterically by this point.
“Nope!” I tried to keep a straight face and tried to keep my hands off her but we ended up making love with her back pressed against the bathroom walls then we moved back into the bedroom.
When I finally got to the barn, it was past noon and the day was half over. I threw some old Indian saddle blankets over the horse’s backs and warmed their bits in my hands before slipping them into their mouths. Both mares were as gentle as puppies. I reached for their reins, steered both of them out of the barn, and guided them over to where Jean stood buck naked under the old oak tree.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Jean laughed as she sat naked on Thunder’s back.
“Why not? I own sixteen fenced in acres of the finest land God ever put on this earth, whose going to see us?” And I thought to myself, “Let the adrenaline flow!”
We rode across the prairie stark naked on the strong backs of Thunder and Storm, they seemed glad to be out of the corral. The Walnut River flowed through the property and that was where we decided to stop and let the horses rest. I swiped their blankets and spread them out on the ground under the guise of some walnut trees. Jean lay down beside me and soon had my cock in her mouth, sucking it until it became rigid. Then she mounted and rode me, as she had rode Thunder, her butt moving up and down in gentle bouncing strides. I grabbed her hair and pulled her face down to mine, pressing my mouth against hers, then rolled her over and began to pound into her until she cried out. Her voice echoed through the timber and drowned out the gurgling sounds of the river.
We walked back, leading the horses by their reins. The sun had started to set by the time we reached the barn. I tossed a curry brush to Jean, she watched as I swept in circular motions across Storms back. I used a hard brush to brush off the dirt and extra hair and a soft brush to sooth the coat. Jean followed my lead. Thunder always loved the grooming, but Storm would always roll after I was done. We fed them then let them loose in the corral.
The next day we took a break, we only made love four times, when we got up, when we ate, when we were in the shower, and when we went to bed. Jean never left the farm. She gathered some of her belongings and we checked on her house now and then. I made room for her clothes in one of Gramp’s old bureaus. We spent many long nights on the front porch in those two chairs, holding hands and dreaming about our future.
We were married the following spring, surrounded by friends. We said our vows under the arch of that old oak tree. Jean sold her house and we used some of the equity to add central air and heat to the old house. The wood stove still sits where it always did, but now we just dust it off occasionally and rotate the knick-knacks. Jean missed her pool so I had a contractor come in and dredge out an old pond that had dried up on the property. We spent many nights skinny-dipping under the stars. The years passed, and we filled the bedrooms with children of our own. The tree stood strong, bearing tons of acorns each year Jean gave birth. When we fought, the tree looked weary, lifeless. Its long leafless branches sagged as though it sobbed with us.
We christened the sleigh on a hot August night under a full moon after we had pulled it out of the barn and spent most of that day rubbing its warm wood down with oils.
Jean never pricked her finger but I definitely would have awoken her with my tongue between her thighs if she had fallen asleep, just like I had done many mornings in our bed.
Each time the sex started to wan in our marriage, Jean would curl up in bed or on the sofa engrossed in one book or another. I would watch what she read, buy my own copy and sit under the oak tree, “researching,” while she was at work, out with her friends, or chauffeuring the kids from point to point. I had notched out a small pocket inside the hollow of the tree, just large enough so that I could slip my paperback into it and far enough inside that Jean would never see it.
I used those books many times and each time our conversations were about the same.
“You want me to do what? You’re kidding, right?”
She would stand in front of me covered with goose bumps and I would think to myself “Let the adrenaline flow!”
I nudged my hips up against Jeans butt a couple of weeks ago while she was washing dishes. Tiny bumps trailed down her arms and her cheerful response was the same as it had always been, “Would you stop!” I just grinned as I patted her rear-end then looked out the kitchen window and saw my oldest grandson sitting under the oak tree with a book in his hand. I winked at Jean, “Now, what do you suppose he’s studying?”