0 comments/ 24472 views/ 0 favorites Time and Tide By: Mischa Laurent The moon rises, full blown from beneath the silvery blue of sea and sky and casts Her lambent gaze upon the earth, Her child. No ripples disturb the tranquillity of the endless pool, no clouds stir to cover Her face with veils of gauze, the earth lies beneath, quiet, peacefully awaiting Her command. Deep below the calm surface the tide rises to answer Her call. Always it has been so. The moon is mother to the world, nurturing and caring with benevolent eye for Her child. The mortals who walk upon it have forgotten this. The tide and the earth it feeds, never shall. The tide comes, raising foam in its wake, scattering the pearly fish who slumber in its endless depths. It rises ever higher, approaching the shore with arches of silver and blue and that which is concealed within it prepares to come forth, onto the shore. A figure steps from beneath the canopy of the wave and gains the beach with graceful ease. Mortal in appearance, this child of the moon, burst full formed from the womb of all creation. It is male. He stands naked upon the pebbles and shells of tides' bounty, his arms raised above his head, fists clenched, every muscle taut as he salutes Her. Human blood infuses his shell, bringing life and hunger to each tendon and sinew, the evidence of his maleness stands erect in relief against the darkness of the trees as the heart swells to plump and fill each crevice of this moonlight creation, defining muscle as it defines purpose. Dark flags of hair spin about in the evening breeze, eyes the color of the deepest of the oceans look worshipfully skyward. A creation of the ideal, perfect in every way, designed by the vengeful Mother to seduce and trap the unwary and the unworthy. Knowledge comes, educating and instructing. The purpose of life, the purpose of this life. Filled now with all that he requires, he spills his seed upon the cowrie shells, mortal tribute to the Mother and steps confidently toward the trees, knowing where he is going and what his task will be. Always there have been such creatures, set forth upon the land to harvest in the name of the Mother. Once, they preyed only upon those who dared venture upon the seas, luring them to death and an eternity of drowned lungs and fish picked bones for their temerity in seeking to conquer the Mother's child. Now, the guilty plunder at will and spill their poisons directly into Her bosom and so She sends her children of the waves onto the land, to harvest those who do not approach the cradle of their creation with reverence and respect, but who sit instead in their towers of steel and concrete and order the destruction that offends Her eternal eye. This one comes to the city and lives as a man would live, with name and work and home in which to sleep. He needs not seek out his enemy, that the enemy will come to him there is no doubt. That which the moon sends to seek will also be sought; it is a sea serpent set down amongst its prey, to beguile and attract with hypnotic sway and lethal beauty. The enemy comes. A powerful man, with riches and glittering array of possessions. He is as his name suggests, savage. Brutal and beyond reproach, he buys his way, purchases his fancy and ruthlessly brings down any who oppose. Such power feeds the ego, frees the soul's depravities and leads to absolute confidence. Confidence that his word is will, that he may do as he wishes without fear of repercussion or vengeance. So he orders his life to his own desires, this Savage. His mighty factories spew their waste into the sea and sky and no futile attempt to halt him can meet with success. As his profits soar, so do his excesses. He collects objects of beauty and hides them away in his penthouse towers, refusing to share his bounty with the world. He orders death and destruction as easily as he orders his breakfast and with as little care; takes what he pleases and suffers no consequences. But She has seen. She knows and has set upon the world the means of his destruction. They meet. The sea creature and the man. Savage owns many things, he owns the building in which the moon child works, cleaning the offices and tending to the systems that make the steel beast function. Savage sees this beautiful vision going about his work and the sight of the man, created full and complete solely to satisfy his every requirement, fills his breast with heady rush of lust and desire to possess. He is overcome by this need and finds himself distracted from his usual purpose. It fills his thoughts every waking hour, ripping at his innards with viscous intensity, denying him rest. He could steal the boy, have him captured and held, helpless victim with which to toy and pleasure himself. He has done this before. Many of the beautiful objects he has collected have been human, young and male. Trapped in dungeons of velvet and leather, never missed or paid extravagantly for, these silken skinned youths with their soft mouths and hard bodies, endure his whips and chains with hopeless eye and dead heart that knows and wishes with desolate intensity for the escape only their merciless deaths will give them. But something has hold of him. Some shifting beast stirs in his heart and decides him against the forceful capture. It tells him instead to woo the lad, to bring him willingly into the dark folds. Whispers that this would be greater victory, satisfaction of a different kind, dependent only on his own skill and not upon the bone and muscle of his employees. This appeals to the savage one's immense ego and he commends himself for his inventiveness at discovering a new game to play with his hapless victim. Never once does he suspect that the beast that rolls and snaps within his breast is that which is called love; She who is the eternal mistress and who has captured more poor souls than he in his wildest imagination could ever hope to conquer. So he effects an introduction and is further seduced by shy gaze and polite manners. The graceful sway of body hypnotizes and arouses, the endless depths of midnight eyes sparkle promises of delights to come and he is further ensnared. He takes his heart's desire to the beach, to frolic in the sea and he observes with wonder how the tiny waves seem to lap about the firm young body as if in embrace and how the sea foam caresses his chest and belly like a lover. The beach is deserted, only the gulls and wind for company. It is one of his possessions and no other can dare come near it. Before this day, he had never ventured to its shiny shores, came only at the boy's request; this place holds no allure for one more comfortable in the halls of power and the canyons of concrete and aluminum that are his regular haunt. But now he sees appeal of the ocean beach, written as it is on the sun kissed features and joyous expression of his companion. He flings himself down beside Savage, a fine coat covers his arms and legs, the soft skin behind the bent knee, the fold where bathing suit meets the flesh of inner thigh, even the nose and cheeks glitter with fragments of shell and sand and he longs to reach over and wipe them away. The boy, who has named himself Simon for its familiar intonation, whispers that he would like to swim without his suit. He blushes and drops his head at this confession and Savage is moved almost to tears by his beauty and humility. He encourages Simon to remove his suit and to go dip his body in the water, but the boy is too shy to disrobe before him. Instead he gathers his courage and enters the waves once again, stripping himself naked only beneath the coverlet of the waves. Savage feels his heart beating fiercely, pounding in his chest, stirring his loins as he squints against the sun's bright rays to catch a glimpse of shapely, muscled arms and firm buttocks rising out of the water as Simon swims. He dips beneath the surface, diving to the bottom before shooting to the surface to rise above the water, leaping into the air with reckless abandon. He seems, to Savage's eyes, to hang there for a moment. Slim thighs and narrow hips cradle his sex as it nestles in its bed of fur, sparkling with water drops that gather at the head of his shaft and drip down his thigh, skirting fine dark hairs that lay plastered against the skin. He is shaded by his own body, the sunlight hits only his dark hair, wet and clinging to his shoulders and to his chest with its dark button nipples, erect from the cool water's caress. Then he drops once more into the sea and Savage expels the breath he had been holding. Simon begins to wade toward the shore, his face, still hidden in shadow, seems to hold a tiny smile as he rises further from the waves and they retreat reluctantly from his chest to his belly, then further down, revealing once more his shaft and the soft globes beneath them. When at last they come only to his ankles, he turns and bends to retrieve his bathing suit, lying soggy and neglected in the shallows. The long length of leg sweeping up into the high, muscular buttocks part as he bends, affording short glimpse of the rounded puckered hole that is Savage's ultimate desire, before he straightens and turns again, coming up the beach toward the towels with unquestioned disregard for his former modesty. The day is hot, the air sultry as Savage attempts to squeeze it into his oxygen starved lungs. He knows the desire he feels is evident in his expression and futilely tries to hide it. But there is no need, for as Simon approaches him, his shaft begins to swell and thicken, rising up from between his thighs to stand proudly erect, swaying slightly with his walk as it bounces against his hard belly. He comes and stands before Savage, straddling his legs, suddenly arrogant with evidence of Savage's need. His prick is inches from Savage's face and he longs to lean forward and take it into his mouth and suck on it, but is unsure. Simon strokes his own cock with innocent skill. He takes into his other hand his balls, hanging juicy and plump under his sex, revealed to avid sight with the burgeoning growth of the erection. Simon caresses himself, blatantly offering his body to Savage. He squats, spreading his thighs wide to straddle the lap beneath him and they kiss with violent passion. Savage handles the proffered body with hard hands, squeezing the heavy sacs hanging down from between Simon's legs with brutal abandon, fingering the sweet tight hole spread so enticingly open by the pose, pinching and biting at the erect nipples, reveling in the taste of salt, sun and sweat. His need too great for finesse, his preference for violent assault under tenuous control, he rolls Simon to the ground and lifts his legs to the sky. He holds them there in steely grip and forces his rigid cock through the ring of tight muscle into the hot enclosing heat of his channel. He thrusts with all his might, embedding himself deep, withdrawing almost to the tip before ramming himself inside again, ignoring Simon's cries as if they were only the cry of a lone gull, carried aloft on the breeze. He goes on and on, fucking with violent intensity into the opened anus, measuring his thrusts against his need to prolong the act, as he has taught himself. Simon ceases to cry out with pain and instead murmurs of his gratification. This unexpected enjoyment of the twinned delights of pleasure and pain enchants and ensnares Savage with its innocent delight and he drops onto the taut belly and kisses the parted lips with fervent intensity, growling out his lusts and his false promises as the driving need of his loins spurs him to greater heights. Simon begs. 'Take me in the water.' he whispers, caressing the rough, unshaven skin of cheek and jaw. They uncouple and rise and Simon draws him by the hand, leading him down to the swelling surf as the late afternoon sun dips below the horizon and the wind whips the waves into eager frenzy. Led into the thickening waters, Savage once again mounts his conquest, riding him through the rough surf that tries to suck the sand from beneath his bent knees and topple him. Pounding into the tender depths as the waves batter the shoreline in concert with his thrusts. He is too intent on the gaining of his own pleasure to notice the changes around him. Even were he to see them, he would pay them no heed. Giving no credence to the message of the living world about him, he trusts only in figures and in the science of the laboratory, and believes only in the power of his own will. For one such as Savage, the earth holds no magic. The gulls have gone. No life stirs upon the private beach bar that which owns it and who mates with brutal tenderness in among the waves and kelp. The wind, too, has died away, yet the surf continues to pound and rise, stirring the sand and seaweed that ties itself about their twined legs as they couple, embraced in the bosom of the sea. He feels his organ swell inside his lover's heated channel and he knows his time is upon him. His cries of ecstasy echo around the bay as he grasps more firmly the spread thighs and renews his assault, his every sense concentrating on the reaching of fulfillment. He does not notice the waves rising now to his shoulders, the salty spray that tickles the back of his throat as he gasps for breath. Oblivious to even the crabs that nibble at his sacs as they float in the tidal currents, he sees only his own impending orgasm, tantalizingly just beyond his reach and the face of his lover and prisoner, head bent back beneath the waves, his eyes closed in pleasure. The heat rushes over him, tingling warmth that centers itself in his belly and spreads out through every capillary and muscle, turning them to liquid as it rushes for his loins. He comes in an explosion of color and a blur of movement, the pain does not at first register upon his heightened senses and he realizes too late that his orgasm has not exploded from his shaft, but has imploded, driving seed and salt water up through his body. His organs dissolve, melted by the salt of the Mother, he pushes himself away, screaming his pain to the sky and the earth as his heart shatters and blood pours from his mouth to cover his chest and belly with treacled death. Simon sits quietly as he suffers in his throes, cradled gently by the same waves that still pound at Savage, pulverizing bone. No such violence touches him. The waves lap about his chest as he watches, midnight eyes with visions of dying promise embrace the scene with amaranthine calm and his hair floats about his chest and tickles his nipples, giving pleasure and praise for his efforts. At last it is over. The empty shell that once contained the man Savage, drops forward from its shattered knees into the waves and is cradled in their now calm embrace. The tide washes in, cleaning the body of blood and carrying it away, beneath the surface and out to sea where a watery grave awaits and none shall ever see the tyrant's face again. Simon stands and watches the velvet veil of a summer's night fall across the ocean. He leaves the water and walks along the beach to the headland. Climbing to the top he reaches the cliff where below the sea is dark and deep, an endless canyon of secrets and promises. He waits patiently for the Mother to rise, the warm breeze, returned now from its flight, smoothes the tangled skeins of hair upon his shoulders and leaves the pale skin dried. It glitters in the light from the rising moon, a beautiful raiment of silica and salt that glows faintly in the starry shine. The Mother rises and finds herself well pleased. She bathes her son in brilliant cold glow, praising and inviting, welcoming him home. He raises his arms. His shaft rampant in benediction, offers salute and mortal seed again to spill upon the salty grasses. Then he rises to his toes and dives, graceful and straight down into the sea. Look close as he arrows to the water. See the falsities of his appearance disappear. Drawn back inside the body, the manhood shrinks and vanishes, the deep cove echoes to the unearthly sound that comes from his throat as he spins in the air, joyous, as he celebrates in his achievement of his Mother's will. He is answered from below, where his brothers and sisters cavort in the waves, awaiting his return. Sexless now, with no memory of his act. All mortal knowledge is drained away as he leaves the world behind and joins them in their endless dance beneath the waves. But listen not to their trilling song. It is the requiem of the sea, eternal and unknowable, soft in its seduction, ruthless in its vengeance. It is the song of the Siren and to heed its alluring melody will lure you to your death. Time and Time Again, First Time There's no wild sex in this story, just some mature romance. For the formula stuff with all the four letter words, you'd best go elsewhere. This is a close to the truth, quiet story about an older man and woman who meet later in life. Both participants are over eighteen. Way, way over. * I'm officially an old man. I'm not angry about it but I'm not always pleased either. The era of boy and young man passed rapidly, although at the time, it seemed forever. Adulthood came rather abruptly with service in the armed forces in World War II. When released from that obligation, adulthood went on, seemingly endless. So many, many things took place, even fulfillment of some dreams. Further education, several different careers, marriage and a large family, all with a future ahead happened, some came easily and many with varying degrees of difficulty. I had gone from just myself to two and ultimately to a total of eight. The children grew up and had families of their own. Our children married and increased the numbers but looking back from today's viewpoint, that only took hours, at the most, days. It went by quickly, so quickly. Almost too quickly. As time progressed we dwindled back down to two again, with visitation rights. We had the best of several worlds, becoming a loving couple, proud parents, and doting, spoiling grandparents with retirement in sight. We had the close contact of our children, and their children, without the twenty-four hour adhesion of their lives to ours. More free time was available. Time to travel, time to experience things that were only dreams when larger, heavier obligations were upon us. There was even time to enjoy each other. We had unobstructed spans of time to just be us, a couple, a pair. We were husband and wife, best friends and lovers. That portion of our lives seemed a magical time. We were finally able to go places and stay as long as we wished. There were places, both magical and exciting that were explored. Then time extracted some of its first tolls. Physical frailties caught up with my wife. Our shared adventures slowed and then ceased. With her encouragement, I continued, taking "spare parts", or grand children with me. We traveled the West and areas of Mexico, stopping wherever we pleased. Another magical time re-viewed through the eyes of a child. It didn't matter that I had been there many times before, because watching them view something new was indescribable. Rafting through a river rapids or walking through a Mayan ruins became new all over again. For a while, time stood still again. Now, greatgrands came upon the scene. I'd swear it was just a week or so ago except for the fact that I was in Mazatlan, Mexico last October with a greatgrand and she was a freshman in high school on fall break. I won't say, "Now how did that happen?" because I have no doubt that she happened the usual way. My question is "When?" I suddenly went from a grandfather to a great grandfather. Of course, if you want to play with words, I think I was always a "great" grandfather from the start. I know I did my damnedest to spoil them in the best possible way. Three years ago, my wife died suddenly leaving me alone. I was back to one, as the song goes, "One Is The Loneliest Number." I wasn't "lost", just alone. I got my life in order, rearranged the house and tried to adjust to living alone. My God, I hadn't dated in MANY years and really didn't know what to do. I joined the Seniors Club in my city but that didn't help any as most of the women there were OLD and I was still quite active. Then, one day I was in Cabelas Sports store looking at boats and a silver haired lady was looking at the same boat. We talked to each other about the boat then talk shifted to boating in general. After a few minutes I mentioned that I was hungry and could I buy her lunch, too. She said yes and we introduced ourselves. She was Kay and I said my name was John. We rode the escalator up together to the dining area of the store. On the way up, we commented on the multitude of stuffed animals on display all over the store. Conversation flowed easily for some reason. I was just comfortable talking with this lady. As lunch concluded, I asked if she would like to have lunch, again tomorrow, in Wickenburg, a town about 50 miles away. She thought for a moment, then said yes and gave me her address. I said I would pick her up about 10:30 and we would drive over there for lunch. Wow, it just happened. During lunch, she mentioned that she was a divorced mother of two who was an Arizona native. Our ages were about the same, too. We both loved the outdoors and camping. She had a small class C motor home and I had a 32' class A Bounder motor home. I drove to her house in my pickup the next day and we drove leisurely to Wickenburg for lunch. Again, we talked. I had lived in the state for 50+ years and she was a native, so it was not surprising that we knew a number of the same people. It just got easier and easier. Later, after lunch, she remarked that she, too, was surprised how easy we seemed to get along together. Oh, we didn't always agree with each other, but we were familiar with the subject at hand. We did lunches a lot after that. Lunches in Scottsdale, lunches in Apache Junction, lunches in Prescott and then I asked her if she would like lunch and dinner in Flagstaff. There was no discussion, as she knew that dinner in Flagstaff meant staying overnight in Flag. She smiled and said yes, she would like that and would pack an overnight bag. It was an interesting drive. It took forever and yet we were there in no time. As longtime residents, there was little new to see on the way there, but we talked a lot and saw little, anyhow. We went to a restaurant that we both knew for lunch, then checked into a nice motel. And yes, I checked us in as Mr. And Mrs.. It was no secret as she stood by me when I checked in. Kay just smiled and tucked her hand in the bend of my arm and squeezed it a little. After registering, we went to the room to put our things in it. After entering and closing the door behind us, she turned and gave me a hug. We both smiled and then kissed. After standing like that for a moment, we broke apart and put our things away, her humming a faint tune. Going back out to my pickup, we drove around town to see some of the sights such as Lowell Observatory and to shop some of the sports stores there. Flagstaff is not big but they have skiing in the winter and hiking, biking the rest of the year, so it's an outdoor town with a lot of outdoor supply stores. Before we knew it, it was time for dinner. After a little talking it over, we decided on a place noted for its Surf and Turf. Over a couple of micro brews, it was a relaxed, quiet dinner. Neither of us said much as we went back to the motel and parked at our room door. Going inside, there was some small talk about the TV and the hot tub in the room. That's the nice thing about the Flagstaff hotels and motels, they cater to a lot of winter crowd and have such things in the better motel rooms. I asked if she wanted to try it and she said yes, that she hadn't done anything like that in years. I admitted that I had never owned one and had seldom ever used one either. She mentioned that she had been born and raised on a southeastern Arizona ranch with few modern facilities and besides, she had had two husbands, so if I didn't mind a few wrinkles, she was going to try the hot tub. Laughing, I said I would enjoy the view and would join her. We both undressed and climbed in. I'm average sized at 5' 10" and 185 pounds, she is smaller, thin, about 100 pounds and about 5' 6", almost skinny but not quite. Both of us a little wrinkled, but what the Hell do you expect at our ages. We are a long way from the fabled ripped and sexy teenagers. A long, long way. The water was hot, but not too hot. We sat there and hugged a bit. That felt nice. Maybe even better than that. Very good, even. Neither of us had been in a situation like this in a number of years. She had been divorced for a number of years and my wife had been losing her memory for the last four years, or so, of her life. We both had been lonely and this felt comfortable to each of us. We kissed. Then again. That was so good, we did it some more. More touching with each kiss. Neither Kay nor I said anything, it just seemed by mutual consent that we climbed out of the tub, dried off and got into bed together. Things went slowly as it had been a long time for each of us. As a side note to younger people, slower is MUCH better anyway, contrary to their popular perception. There was no rush. While not routine, there was nothing that we hadn't done or seen before; it was just pleasure. We weren't newlyweds or horny teens, just a couple of mature persons seeking pleasure. As a matter of fact, we were no longer seeking it- we had found it in each other for the moment. It was gentle. It was fun. It was pure pleasure and it lasted longer than a moment. I must confess, on my part, it was better living through chemistry. Later, we drifted off to sleep. When we woke up in the morning, we showered, dressed and had a leisurely breakfast. While eating, we planned what to do that day. As we both had only packed enough clothes for the one day, it was decided to drive back to the Phoenix area and have lunch, with pie, in Rock Springs. It's a place about 45 miles north of Phoenix and famous for their pies. I reluctantly took her home and when I saw her to her door, I seriously remarked how comfortable we were together and that I would like to see more of her. She smiled, giggled and said that I had already seen all of her that there was to see, but she understood what I meant, and agreed. We still live in our own homes but get together often, sometimes for lunch and sometimes for dinner and breakfast. At times I go over to her house and spend the day and other times, she visits my house. She has her groups that she meets with and I have my things to do, but we talk every day, often emulating teenagers in that respect. Marry? No, we won't. There's no reason to, but we want to remain "friends with benefits" for as long as we can. What better incentive to keep your doctors appointments. Both sets of children have noticed the upswing in our lives and think it's great. It's a special kind of love reserved for people that know what love really is and have experienced it. Time and Time Again, Going North An older couple go on a protracted road trip in northern Arizona, stopping here and there to see the sights and enjoy each other. Just slow, quiet sex and gentle love. It's best if you read the first two stories- Time and Time Again and Time and Time Again, Road Trip. This is pretty much how us "old folks" get along. * In spring, after it warmed up a bit, we talked more about going up north when it got hot down in the Phoenix area. Now there weren't many variables there, only ones perception of "warm" and "hot". To Kay and I, hot was over 100 degrees; a number that causes fatalities in the East but barely a sweat to folks that had lived in the desert for more than a couple of years. We also had to temper our decisions with the fact that North meant much higher elevations with colder temperatures for a longer period of time. We decided to leave in May. We both checked over my Bounder motor home- me on the outside and the traveling gear, Kay on the inside, making sure we had a list for provisions as well as all the utensils she liked to normally use. It's funny how time works. It seemed weeks ahead to the departure date, but then it arrived tomorrow. We loaded the few last minute things and took off. The first night we camped just north of Flagstaff, pulling off in the forest a bit and stopped. Quiet, cool and a smell of pine in the air. Oh my, what a combination. We enjoyed the evening and each other. The next day we went up to Page, Arizona and looked at Lake Powell. We both remembered watching them build the dam there. We reminisced about Page, remembering a quickly thrown up town for the dam construction. When the dam was completed, the economy in Page practically ceased. We both joked that folks were selling waterdogs out the back door to get by. We pulled into an RV park for the uneventful night. In the morning, we drove to Jacob's Lake, then south to DeMotte campground, about 16 miles north of the north rim of the Grand Canyon. It's one of my favorite spots. A small forest service campground with about 22 spaces. Near it are several forest roads leading to some great spots if you know about them. We were now at about 8,000 feet in elevation and almost cold. Those of you that are pilots know that air cools at an adiabatic rate, if no other factors enter in the equation. That rate is about 5 ½ degrees per 1,000 feet in rise of elevation and we had come up from 1,200 feet in two days. A little over 35 degrees cooler up there. It was great. We picked a site from an almost empty campground and set up. We walked around a bit to explore the immediate area then settled in for the evening. I even turned the furnace on to keep us warm. It would have been even nicer if the motor home had a fireplace but we had each other to keep us warm. It was nice to sit on the couch, listening to some music from the 60s and just cuddling while reminiscing about the music. Young people might have made a mad night of it, but that night we went to bed and fell asleep right away, a combination of the cool and the altitude causing that. Coffee outside, in the morning watching deer in the campground while they browsed. It doesn't get any better than that. We stood there for about a half hour with an arm around each other, sipping our coffee and watching the deer. Kay hadn't been on any of the back forest roads before, so we drove on some of them, going quite a ways back into the forest. I hadn't been there in 7 or 8 years myself. I had taken a granddaughter with me to see the north rim. We had come up in the fall, just before the north rim closed for the winter and had encountered 4 inches of snow at the 8,000 feet level. This time the weather was perfect. The next day, after breakfast, we drove down to the rim itself. We both liked to tourist watch. After buying the obligatory postcards to send to the kids, we addressed them and dropped them in the mailbox. At noon, we went into the dining room and had lunch. All the National Parks have great food with excellent service equal to that of many major resorts. The secret to eating at any big resort or National Park is to eat lunch. Dinners are priced sky high, but lunches are moderate with the same quality of food and service. I always take the opportunity to eat out whenever I'm in the vicinity of any nice place like that. Besides, they do the dishes. How wonderful and romantic to dine next to a window overlooking the Grand Canyon. I see so many stories where the couple orders some kind of wine to go with their meal. I've never been that sophisticated to know what I should order and besides I don't like many wines anyway. Not sweet enough. The kids say that I'm such a sour old man that I need all the help I can get, so I should always order a sweet wine. For once, they have something right. I'm driving, anyway. By the middle of the afternoon, most of the tourist busses have left and we head back to the campground for supper. For the rest of the week we did pretty much the same thing, exploring the forest and sometimes going to the rim for lunch. There's an old saying about a couple being as comfortable as a pair of old shoes. We're starting to get there by the time we were ready to leave. Speaking of time, it was time to move on in our travels. We decided to go west, stopping for a visit at Pipe Spring National Monument, a relative unknown place that is a jewel. We toured there and then stayed the night in their campground. It was great getting to talk with the rangers as they not only worked there, they lived there in the summer also. We stayed up late talking and got some fantastic insights to the area as well as the monument itself as it was a way station in that area for many, many years. It was the only water for miles and a must stop for early travelers. The next morning we drove to Cedar Breaks, Utah, another small less frequented gem. Cedar Breaks is a small 23 space campground with a view of an area identical to Bryce Canyon, but a much smaller area. A microcosm, as it were, but every bit as beautiful and with out busloads of tourists from all over the world crowding everywhere. The brilliant red and white formations are gorgeous. We were now at over 9,000 feet and cold. I've been there in July and found snow in the shade of the trees. Kay was overwhelmed at the sight. That evening we hardly needed the furnace to keep warm as she rewarded me for taking her there. At night there were a couple of men that came out of their campers and set up their telescopes to study the stars. It seems that each year the meet there for this purpose as the conditions are as perfect as they can find. There is no city near enough to cause sky glow that interferes with their gazing. We kept them in hot coffee for a couple of nights and they, in turn let us view the sky through their scopes for a while. What a privilege. About the fourth day, we decided we had had enough of the cold for a while and decided to go down the hill, so's to speak. We drove down to Cedar City, Utah, and then through Las Vegas, stopping only for some gas and supplies. Neither of us liked Vegas so we went on without the usual glitter stops. On down through pure D desert to Laughlin, Nevada, where we went across the Colorado River to the Katherine Landing campground. It's a beautiful spot on the Arizona side of the Colorado river, near the old Katherine mine. It was the highest place on the river that riverboats could go if the water was high enough. That was pretty much stopped when the Laguna Dam was built near Yuma. We had been to Lake Mittry, back of the Laguna Dam on our previous shakedown cruise; now we were on the upper reaches of the navigable portion of the Colorado River. The campground is built on a semi-circle with several tiers going down to the water. Even without a boat, it's a great place to relax for a while. This is a popular campground and a great boating area, too, with a large launch ramp. We settled if for a while and got to know some of our neighbors. We could go in to Bullhead City for perishables and there were water hookups at each site. We never said anything but they all thought we were married by the way we acted around each other. It was so easy and smooth. We just fit. I don't know any other way to describe it. We never argued. We didn't always agree but we talked it out. While we hadn't known each other for long, we had the advantage of being older and having been around the state for many years, knowing many people in common as well as having watched the state grow tremendously over the years. We were comfortable with the state, with camping and with each other. We were happy again. Best friends and lovers with an emphasis on old. When I dropped her off at her house, a few days later, we hugged, kissed, laughed and talked about another trip soon. I can't describe the satisfaction I had as I parked and went into my house. We had laughed and loved and had a good time. With two verys. Time and Time Again, Road Trip We decide to travel the state a bit. We're still over eighteen, way, way over. In fact, we're even a little older now than when we met. As with most of my writings, there's no raging sex in it, just easy, comfortable love. * When Kay and I met, a few months ago, we were both single and had been for several years. Both of us were active senior citizens, living in Arizona. Kay was born in the state and I had moved there many years ago and found a home. We had found each other and also found that we worked and played well together. She was well educated with an engineering degree and a fierce independence brought on in part by two divorces. The first husband ran off shortly after the birth of their second child. She was left to raise them and earn a living for many years. Then she married again, later, to a man that seemed nice but mistreated her after the ceremonies. She got rid of him quickly. I, too was an engineer, an uncivil, civil engineer as well as a former commercial pilot. My wife had died a few years aback after slowly suffering from senility for several years. I had three sons, one a contractor, number two a police officer and number three a chef. There were three daughters in the mix, too, all bright but very different. Number one daughter was a strong, forward executive, number two was my "pain in the butt" daughter who tried her best after her mother died, to continue trying to bring me up to substandard, and number three was the quiet one. Of course they had names but when they were young and misbehaving, my wife and I would have to go down the whole list of names, in our anger, to get to the proper miscreants' name. That's when they got numbered. If you come from a big family, I'm sure you know what I mean. Dammit, Bill, Joe, Karen, Liz, Oh Hell, you there, stop it! As Kay and I got to know each other, we had traveled a bit in the state, stopping here and there overnight sometimes. When spring started to turn into summer, we decided to go up north, to higher elevations and cooler weather. Both of us were retired, and had been for years. Because we both liked to travel, we had our utility bills and credit card bills on automatic pay. Any income we had was also on direct deposit to the bank, a situation that allowed us to be away for any length of time. When we first talked about going up north, we discussed which of our motor homes we should take. Hers was newer, a class C, which meant that it was built on a truck frame with a truck cab in front. Mine was a purpose built class A motor home, a few years older than hers. We tried a short trip in hers first. It was great--for one person. With two people inside, when one wanted to change their mind, they had to go outside. Not too good. Then we tried mine, a 32' Bounder with a separate bedroom and bath as opposed to the hide-a-bed couch and cramped toilet in her vehicle. The first day out convinced her that we should travel in mine. A strong woman, mentally, she was intimidated by the size of the Bounder. We decided to take an experimental trip in an open area to get her used to driving the beast. We took a circular swing, driving first to Yuma, Arizona, 200 miles of desert highway. We then turned north, along the Colorado River with the river on our left and mountains, such as the Kofa range to our right. All open space and not heavily congested. It didn't take long for her to learn to put that rig anywhere she wanted. Along the way, we went through a geothermal area, interesting that when drilling for water to first construct the road they hit steam and hot water. At a couple of places, near the highway, the state had built rest stops with pools to soak in. Water goes from one pool to another, cooling on the way. You can pick your temperature. Pressure fed, some is piped to a sprayer pointed up in the air. As they are a ways off the freeway, the pools are not too heavily used by the general public. That makes them great, as it is possible to go nude there, if you dare. Sometimes there will be 8 or 10 people, other times, no one. It's a favorite stop of mine. We tried it, stopping for an hour. Kay was reluctant, at first, to go skinny-dipping in public, so's to speak. I convinced her that she already was "skinny" and at our age, what the Hell. That did it, she joined me and we had fun even though we had company for a while. She had never known about that spot. It was fun cuddling, hugging and splashing in the pools. Driving on, we turned north, after leaving Yuma and parked in the desert not far from the Colorado. I have solar panels and two large batteries for "house" power, so we watched TV and read a while before going to bed. In the morning, it was beautiful. We were alongside the lake formed by Laguna Dam, the first dam on built on the Colorado. Again, a not wellknown place and we had it all to ourselves. We sat outside with our coffee for a while, enjoying the solitude before going back inside and enjoying each other for a while. We drove north, through the Yuma Proving ground with a few stops to see the displays of special, experimental old weapons they had placed along the way in spots. We arrived at Quartzsite, Arizona. It has a summer population of about 5,000, or less, but in the winter, the surrounding desert will have close to 200,000 campers around it, basking in the warmth, escaping the cold of Canada and northern United States. It was still crowded so I drove to Brenda, turned off the highway and went to an 80 acre place a friend owned. No one else was around for several miles. We oriented the rig so the passenger side was to the north in order to have shade with out putting out the awning. Now we were really alone and no visitors expected. You'd think we had been married for a long time the way we acted. Then again, maybe you'd think we were newly weds We were comfortable with each other and didn't have the raging urges the younger set had. A hug here, a kiss for no reason and slow, easy sex when the mood struck us. Neither of us had experienced that in a long time. We left, reluctantly, after a few days and went on back, to the Phoenix area and home. That trip decided us that we could live together, at least for a while, and we started planning a longer trip, taking in northern Arizona and the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. We also considered taking my raft and going down the San Juan River, in southern Utah. That could be a five day trip in itself. All this proves that, given fair health, an older couple can enjoy life in fantastic ways, often surpassing the quick, frenetic excursions that younger people usually take, no matter how exotic the place. Some peace and quiet, with a few amenities nearby, works for us. We've found happiness with full knowledge that it may not be for many years, so we try to capture as much as we can, as often as we can.