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Indian Summer

By: Haz & Tia



What can I say? I love my wife Tia! I love women! I love everything about them. I can't believe how lucky I am to be having the experiences that some men can only dream about. My wife Tia and I have been hanging out with our new friend Tara for about a month now. Tara is half Chinese and half black. Tia is truly obsessed with having sex with her. How can I deny her that pleasure, when it's so fun to watch? It's a beautiful sight watching two gorgeous girls naked, sucking and licking each other. I had to share this adventure with someone.

My cousin came in from down south. It was fall in LA. And for some reason, it was 80 degrees. We took advantage of it. Tia and I had a small roof top party. Not a lot of people were invited. Tara, my cousin, Frank, Tia's half brother, Tim and his roommate, Matt, were the only folks that we invited. Frank came over first. He had never met Tia and was mesmerized by her beauty. Tia was wearing a pair of jeans that hugged her ass. She cut out the material around the pocket area, leaving nothing but skin showing. The fact that she wore no panties gave anyone a full view of her nude pelvic area. Of course I was digging it. Every time I looked at her, I had to fight back getting a hard on. She also wore a tiny, thin T-shirt that was cut right below her tits and no bra. My cousin has been married for six years now and his wife is a little overweight, so I'm sure he was glad to see the slim and curvy Tia in person. We sat and talked on the roof drinking. The bell rang and it was Tim and Matt. I lead them up to the roof. Tim and Matt both work as male models and study at Howard. I felt a little intimidated, because both of these guys were totally buffed out. I met Tim briefly before at the wedding, but for some reason he looked different. They had brought a bottle of huge bottle of vodka with them. Matt started fixing lemon drop shots for everyone. After about three each, everyone was buzzing. I began to wonder where Tara was. We started playing music. Tia danced with everyone. The alcohol was getting her loose as she danced with cousin Frank. Every time she lifted her arms up, her T-shirt rose up, exposing her tits to everyone. She didn't seem to care. Finally Tara showed up around 6 o'clock. I went down to let her in. I could tell that she had been smoking weed, because her eyes gave it away. "What happened to you!" I blurted out. She smiled and walked up the stairs. I followed behind her, looking up her short sundress, I saw that she too wore no panties. I lifted up her skirt. She slapped it out of my hand and yelled out. "You lost something!" Tara laughed and ran up the stairs to the roof.

Tia ran over to Tara and hugged and kissed her, like she hadn't seen her in years. Then she introduced her to everyone. Frank was even more stunned by Tara's exotic beauty. Matt greeted her with an offering of a lemon drop shot, which she drank down with one gulp. We applauded and he made her another one. Tia suddenly seemed to dislike all the attention that Tara was getting and went down stairs. I turned on the red and blue party lights that were on the roof. Frank asked Tara to dance. She did and boy did she look good! She spun around a couple of times, causing her dress to billow up. Tim, Matt and I got a good glimpse of her hairless pussy. We gave each other "high fives", like dumb college jocks.

Tia returned, wearing a yellow sundress, which was completely see through, because of the bright lights that were on. Tia began dancing, alone at first. I asked her if she were o.k. She said she was fine, and went on dancing over to Lean and Tara. Tim was still drooling over Tara, as one of her pierced nipples popped out of her loose fitting dress. She didn't cover it up; she just tugged on the gold hoop that dangled from it. Tia turned and planted her lips around the hoop and pulled on it with her teeth. "You go girl!" Tim shouted out. Tia looked over at her brother and winked. We all were digging the show, especially Frank, who was getting a close-up view. The two girls started dancing with each other, sliding their hands all over each other. Touching and grabbing everywhere. The girls immediately got into "showgirl" mode and started performing. The guys stepped back and let the girls do their thing. Matt made a few more drinks for everyone. I looked over at Tim, who I thought would be embarrassed seeing his sister in a sexual situation. He egged her on just everyone else. The girls started stripping, which only took a couple of seconds because they were only wearing dresses and nothing else. My cousin was very happy at this point. He told me how he just loved the look of a shaved pussy, but his wife wasn't into it. The chicks stared kissing each other passionately. Tia immediately went down to Tara's slick pussy. They lay down on a large quilt blanket. She ran her tongue around the hoop, flicking at her clit. The guys moved in much closer now, trying to get a better view of this sexy action. Tia pulled Tara's butt cheeks open wider, causing her anus to open up. Tia began tongue fucking her puckered asshole.

"She's ready! Who's first?" Tia called out. I answered immediately. "Frank's first." He shyly said no. (Thinking about his wife, I'm sure) Tia said "C'mon...don't you like girls?" That put him on the spot. Tia unbuckled his pants and pulled them down. He looked over at me. I shrugged my shoulders as Tia took his big black cock into her mouth. His dick was rock hard, as she sloppily sucked on it. Tim and Matt looked on as Tia went to work on my cousin's cock. Tia yelled over to Matt. "C'mon Matt. You know you want some to!" Tia took Frank's cock out of her mouth and slid it slowly into Tara's dripping wet pussy. It went in easily as Frank began to pump in and out, moaning loudly. "What do you think!" I asked Frank. He answered with a low moan. Tim took off his shirt and pants, revealing his muscular body. "Wow! You've been working out!" Tia yelled out. Tim smiled and put his large cock into Tara's mouth. Matt, didn't wait any longer. He took off his clothes and stuffed his cock into Tia's mouth. She sucked him to a raging boner. I was shocked on how big his cock was. She pulled it out of her mouth and from the base of his cock to the head, milked out a large amount pre-cum. She savored it on her tongue before swallowing it. "I love the taste of sex!" Tia moaned. She positions herself next to Frank's pounding cock. She took hold of it and pulled it out. Tara's pussy was dripping with her wetness. Matt took it upon himself to slide up into Tara's pussy while Tia sucked on his cock. Tia pushed Frank down onto a chair. He leaned back as Tia mounted him. Her pussy engulfed my cousin's cock within seconds. He moaned as she bucked up and down on top of him. I felt like I was going to burst in my pants if I didn't cum soon. I pulled out my cock and pushed Tim out of the way. I shoved my dick into Tara's face and she began sucking my cock with force. Tim walked behind Tara and pushed Matt out of the way. "Beat it!" He yelled out. Matt pulled his cock out of Tara's pussy. Tim then slides his cock into Tara's cunt. She moans as his large dick fills her up.

Suddenly, I came, shooting a huge load of sperm into Tara's mouth. My cock was still hard when I left Tara and walked over to see what Tia was doing. She had just finished cleaning off Matt's cock with her tongue. I saw my cousin sitting on the chair with his cock buried deep inside of Tia's pussy, but not moving. "Give him the special treatment! That's family!" I yelled out, joking. Tia lifted herself off of Frank's cock, then slowly lowered herself back onto it. This time she let his cock slide easily into her ass. "There you go!" Tia moaned, as she took the entire length of his thick, 8 or so inch cock deep into her ass. Frank moaned loudly. "Don't cum yet!" I yelled out. Tia barely moved her body, I guess the intense feeling of Tia's hot, tight and wet ass was too much for Frank. He began to shoot his cum deep inside off Tia's ass. It seemed like he came forever, moaning and jerking his head around.

Tia held his cock inside of her ass. "Are you O.k?" She asked him. "Yeah!" He said still panting.

"You poor baby!" Tia sang out. She slowly slid his cum drenched cock out of her ass and put it in her mouth. "I'll make it better!" She mumbled, while licking the cum off of his soft dick. At that point, Matt came over and slid his dick into Tia's wet pussy. He pumped for a few minutes as Tia sucked on Frank's flaccid cock. Matt began to moan and began squirting cum into Tia's pussy. She turned and looked back at Matt and then at me, all smiles. Tara and Tim were still at it. She was on her back and we all watched as he fucked her missionary style. Eventually she came and his body tensed up and he began to cum inside of her pussy.

It was getting cold as everyone started to tire out. We went inside and told stories about growing up. Tim joked about seeing his sister fuck guys when they were growing up.

I guess Tia didn't know about that.

Everyone left that evening feeling good. We couldn't wait to do it again.

Indian Summer



Author's note : As much as would like to say I did, I did not write this story. I received this from a friend of a friend, and after a little bit of editing here and there, I've decided to let this be in the same form as it came to me. The real author remains unknown, but the disclaimer that came with this asserts that this is just FICTION!

I listen to the last, fading strains of the lullaby for my baby boy as his mother rocks him to sleep. From my position on the bed, all I can see is the silhouette of mother and son, related in more ways than one. The light outside filters in through the windows, profiling the nude body of the Goddess who bore my son.

She sets him down on his cradle, and I hear him start to cry, only to be soothed for the sudden loss of warmth by his mother's loving pats into sound sleep. Convinced that the little one is truly asleep, his mother adjusts the blanket and looks one last time at her child.

Then she turns to me with a smile that I have realized I can't live without. "He has all your features, Daddy."

I embrace her as she settles on the bed, right on top of me. We kiss for some time, just savoring the feel of the other's lips on ours. Hers, soft and red, are so delicious that I often wonder how it is that I was fated to enjoy my own daughter. Sometimes, I think I will wake up and find that it was all a wonderful dream, but her weight against mine tells me that it isn't. The scent of her body, the heat of her loins, the tickling of her hair... it is all real.

My daughter. My lover. That's the reality.

Noticing my thoughtful expression, my daughter Poornima draws up against me, placing her elbows on my chest and resting her beautiful face on her palms. She nibbles on my nose for a couple of seconds, before dropping her hands to her sides and downing her face into my chest.

"What are you thinking, Dad?"

I kiss her forehead lovingly. The forehead that I had kissed many times as a father - the forehead that now belonged to me, her 'husband.'

"If someone had told me three years ago, that I would be living like this with my daughter, I would have clobbered him. And now..."

Flashback.

The plane took off, and I sighed, waving like a little child at the lifting bird. For the seventh time in eleven years, I was seeing my wife off to her nursing station at a distant hospital in Saudi Arabia. And in spite of the fact that we had hardly been together for the last ten-fifteen years, I missed her terribly. I loved her as much as our daughter Poornima did.

I could never understand my wife Anita's motivation for looking for a job abroad, especially when the family property that I had inherited as an only child and my own income as a freelance writer for movies were more than enough for an above middle-class lifestyle. She was adamant - she had studied nursing, and she did not want to let it go waste. I allowed her.

On this particular day, though, it seemed to me that I was more expressive about my sorrow than my nineteen year-old daughter was. That was strange, because I had always had the impression that she loved her mother more, evidenced by her joy when Anita came home almost every year. Maybe it was just resignation, I told myself, and perhaps a little of anger.

The anger I could empathize with - Anita had missed our anniversary this year, and she would be missing Neem's (my nickname for her) birthday the third week. And as much as I wanted to rail at her and command her to leave her goddamned job in that goddamned nation, I couldn't. I knew how much it meant to her, and I didn't want to be the villain in her life.

It was Poornima who broke our silence on the way home. "I don't want a party."

I pretended not to know what she was talking about. "What party?"

She gave me a look that was meant to say, You can never fool me, Dad, I know you too well. I smiled at her and ruffled her hair. Silken and smooth, it was jet-black and the envy of the hairdressers at the corner of our locality. 

"I mean my birthday party - I know you have been planning one - you always do - and as much as I really appreciate it, I don't want to spend the last birthday in my teens with a bunch of giggling idiots who think that real fun is a cup of Coke and a piece of cake."

"And what do you want instead of the party, my dear daughter?"

"Just some time alone with my father... We hardly spend any quality time other than dinner together. I would rather spend one of my most special birthdays with my handsome hunk of a father."

I have to make a slight clarification here - they say beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder, and I decided that her eyes needed some serious testing. Hunk would never be synonymous with Rajiv Matthew, and vice versa was just as true. But I didn't want to burst her bubble, so I just ruffled her hair some more. I agreed that I wouldn't plan the party.

At that time, I had thought she wasn't serious. It was only when she pestered me for two whole days that I got it into my thick head that she really wasn't too keen on a party, and instead, wanted to waste the day on her dear dad. I wouldn't complain - I loved her company, and save for my wife, all the family I had.

Two days passed. Anita had called upon her arrival at the Saudi capital, and promised to call again in a week's time.

And then... the atmosphere in our house was suddenly saturated by a strange kind of monsoon. Of the sexual kind.

People in the US, and probably the Europe, wouldn't find anything strange in short, scanty dresses at night time, but out here in conservative India, girls are brought up believing that modesty is tantamount to character, and I don't differ from that view of thinking. While I am an open-minded fellow, it's always been my contention that family values viz. decency and modesty are intrinsic to our way of life.

On the other hand, being a single parent makes it difficult to lay down the rules - Anita's absence was often for so long that it almost made me feel like a single parent - especially to an only child, and that too, a girl as well-behaved as my daughter. I was proud of her; she had that mixture of inner beauty and outer innocence that is so lacking among the rest of the youth who look to channels like MCM and FTV for guidance.

So, even though I was a little alarmed when I walked into her room to wake her up the third morning, only to find her having slept in an old shirt of mine and her panties, I decided to say nothing about it. It was, after all, the summer, and Indian summers, as anyone who has been in India at this time of the year knows, can get pretty hot. The shirt had ridden up her flat stomach, and now lay just a few inches below her breasts.

I was disturbed to find that it was getting a rise out of me. And it wasn't one of anger, either.

I suppose I could excuse myself with the two years of abstinence from sex - the last time Anita had visited, we had been too busy visiting relatives that we hadn't had time for anything else - and the sight of a young, rich body would definitely be antagonistic to platonic thoughts, but then again, I realized it was not just lust I was feeling. Not the mere physical attraction - even as I stared at her long legs, with their supple thighs and dainty feet, I knew the attraction went deeper.

Far deeper.

Thankfully, I woke my daughter up without revealing the tumult of emotions raging inside my head. She smiled at me as she stretched, obviously expecting me to say something about the lack of clothing she wore to bed, but she didn't look too disappointed either when I ignored the bait. Instead, I just kissed her on her forehead and asked her to get her ass out of bed.

That seemed to have set the precedent. In fact, it set the pace for the descent.

Poornima took my silence to mean that I was okay with her independence, and given her maturity and tastefulness when in public, I really couldn't find fault with her. On the other hand, when I found her asleep in her underwear a week later, in just her bra and panties - I knew I had to talk it out with her. Unfortunately, I never found the heart to do so.

"Machamma went home," she said one day.

Machamma was our maidservant. "It isn't noon yet," I asked, puzzled. "Isn't she well?"

"I sent her home. For good. She wanted a raise, and I told her she didn't deserve the amount she claimed. She started shouting at me, accusing me of being... a bad girl, but I guess I lost it when she called you a cheapskate. After what you spent to save her husband. The bitch-"

"Language, Neem," I warned. That was the first time I had heard her call someone that.

"Oops! Sorry about that."

I nodded. Not that Machamma did not deserve the insult - she was a lazy busybody, and no one knew it better than she did. She flaunted her laziness, that woman, and quite frankly, it made my blood boil that she had had the nerve to call my daughter a slut. Neem was as beautiful as anyone could be, and that spoke more of her compassionate and loving nature than her evergreen face or the fantastic structure of her body. A body that I was increasingly becoming very aware of.

"Guess I'll just have to put out an ad for another Machamma," I sighed.

"You don't have to, you know. I could manage the chores myself."

"You sure?"

"Of course. It's just the two of us, and with a little help from you, I bet I can finish the tasks in half as much time as Machamma." Seeing the doubtful expression on my face, she gave her trump card. "In case you haven't noticed, Daddy, I am a grown woman. In a couple of years, I will probably be having my own husband and kids." She grinned at me. "Then again, I guess you have noticed it, haven't you?"

I blushed slightly - of that I am sure - but I must also add that I recovered my composure quickly. "It's hard to miss, Neem, 'specially when you walk around next to nothing."

"Not next to nothing," she corrected. "I do cover my top, don't I? It's just these poor legs of mine that need some air-conditioning from time to time."

"Poor?"

"You know what I mean..."

"Right." Realizing that this might lead to an awkward turn in the conversation, I changed the subject. "So what you are saying is that we don't have to look for a replacement for Machamma?"

"Yes. We've got me instead."

"My little housewife," I quipped.

She nodded her head. "Your little housewife." It struck me that she did lay a little more emphasis than was necessary on that last syllable than was necessary, but I let it pass.

Poornima took to her chores readily. It was vacation time for her, and since I didn't work by the clock, there would be no strain on her. She was a good cook, far better than my wife, and she packed a mean broom. Everytime I watched her dust our porch or clean our driveway, I felt a pang of the impending loss when she would get married. I was going to miss my little girl terribly at that time.

On the other hand, Poornima seemed to have no intention of curbing her 'open' attitude towards clothing around the house. It was quite a normal sight for me to see her in just her underwear and an apron puttering around the kitchen for breakfast and dinner, and used to it by now, I wasn't so troubled by the reactions that I got. She hadn't noticed anything so far, I told myself, so that put me in the clear.

The Thursday night prior to her birthday, I attended the stag party of a colleague's son, and obviously, being held at a neighborhood pub, the booze flowed freely. Since my house was less than a five-minute jog from the place, I allowed myself the luxury of getting saturated with the ethylated spirit. Three glasses, and I was seeing twins of everyone.

It took a couple of my friends to get me to my gate, and they staggered off as soon as my daughter opened the door. She was a vision of loveliness, hair still fresh from the recent shower, body enconsced in a bathrobe that had been conservative four years ago and was now close to revealing her feminine charms. I took in the sight of those long legs, exposed to the moonlight and to her father's dirty eyes, and I guess in my drunken state, I mumbled comments hardly suitable for any father.

Poornima supported me to the door, then went back to lock the gate. She then came back and seeing that I was still stable, took some time off to lock up the rest of the place. Then, right before my eyes, she took off her robe, and even in the inebriated state that I was in, it registered instantly upon my senses that she was wearing lingerie. Not the usual, cotton, 'girlie' stuff, but the real thing, the ones that I have seen on FTV.

Perhaps I am exaggerating, or perhaps not. I do not know how these images still remain in my memory, for I am a very weak drunk, and it was a wonder I hadn't passed out on the floor already. In fact, I did collapse on the floor - but before I did, as even Poornima confirmed the fact, I must have clutched at my daughter. My hands missed her shoulders, but not the swell of her breast. Poornima told me the next day that I fell on the carpet, my face buried in the bra that I had torn off her chest.

The next thing I do remember convincingly was a headache, and the pain in the eyes as the rays of the morning sun woke me up. For a few seconds, I was disoriented, the only thing coming to mind being the regret that I had probably made a drunken ass of myself. 

It was then that I felt the soft, satiny hands across my waist. Out of the haze that still clouded my eyes, I looked beside me - and damn near had a heart attack!

Her right arm thrown over me, another placed where my head had cradled, wearing just her bottoms, was Poornima. Frantically, I looked around for any telltale signs - anything - that would give me the assurance that we had done nothing the previous night. Unfortunately, her breasts were too prominent for me to ignore, and my eyes fell on them.

Nemesis!

Hundreds of tiny red spots, like love-bites, dotted her tits. The nipples still looked erect, and throbbed lightly in a dullish red hue. It was as if I had ravished her like a mad man.

For the first time, I was also aware of the musky odor of a woman in the room. Automatically, my eyes fell to her crotch. The material of her lingerie bottom was still soaking wet, and her juices - perhaps mine too - had spread on to the bedsheet as well.


As if on cue, Poornima sighed in her sleep and turned over so that she was facing the opposite direction. Her ass was clearly visible to me now, and it didn't seem as if I had ignored that soft spot of hers either. On either ass cheek were impressions of a male hand, redder and sharper than the bite marks on her breasts.

Oh my God! What had I done?

I buried my head in my hands, and the tears were flowing when my daughter's soft hands cupped my face and raised it to meet hers. "Why are you crying, Dad?"

For a few seconds, I did not reply. I stared at the beautiful face, even more beautiful in the freshness of the morning, into her sharp, black eyes; I stared into their depths, wondering if I would ever find forgiveness in them. She was acting as if nothing had happened, but sooner or later, she would know. She would know what a pervert she had for a father. She wouldn't remember our pleasant times together any more. Whenever she thought of me, it would be as the 'asshole' who took advantage of her.

I broke down again, but Poornima, darling child, would have none of it. Fiercely, she yanked my face up again, and although concern expressed itself in her eyes, her tone was one of indignation. "What is the matter, father?"

"I am sorry," I managed to say.

"For what?"

Didn't she know already, or had she really slept through whatever it had been that I had done to her? "I think I raped you last night."

Poornima laughed in my face. Without any inhibitions, she pointed to her breasts, giving me the invitation to look at them once more. It was only the emotional trauma that I was feeling that kept me from getting an erection, but I did feel my heart beat faster, and I did recognize that strange sensation in my tummy that told me that I was head over heels for my daughter. The physical sights were proving to be a major stimulus for my long-suppressed lust.

"You mean this? You've got nothing to apologize for, Daddy! It was great! See - I even came because of what you did to my breasts."

"Your breasts? You mean I didn't fuck you?" I didn't know for sure if I sounded relieved or disappointed. Neem shook her head, and I heaved a sigh of relief.

"What was that for?" my daughter asked. Then she giggled. "You should watch your language, Daddy!"

I smiled back at her. Thank God I hadn't actually completed an intercourse with her. The adulation of her breasts was still as taboo, but it was definitely less harmful than going all out with her. "It's just that I am glad things did not go any further."


For a split second, I thought I saw disappointment on her face, but my daughter immediately regained her sense of humor, and placing a hand on her panties, she giggled furiously. "Shall I get you another bottle of hard drinks?"

"So that you can get me drunk enough to go to bed? No way!" I was sure she was joking, and I responded in kind. "All I do want right now is to know what happened yesterday night when you I came home - all I remember of that is being dead drunk, reeking of alcohol, then you carried me into the house, took off your robe... then I fell, I guess, if my memory serves me right."

"You did fall," agreed Poornima, "But you tried to catch me for support, and ended up tearing off my bra. You just dropped to sleep on the floor, my bra clutched in your hands and your face buried in it. You were so out that it was a struggle to get you to bed - and I must admit I was more than tempted to leave you in the hall itself. I didn't bother to cover myself, though, because there was no other eyes to see me naked.

"I left you on the bed, then decided that I would have to remove your clothes. After they came off, I stared at your physique (she smiled broadly at this point, and I surmised she was just adding this to get a rise out of me). As I was turning to leave, you said something, and when I came closer, you just caught my hand and turned over in your sleep.

"Rather than fuss about the whole toothless issue by waking you up - and that would have been something, what with your hangover - I figured I might as well join you. I laid down with you, and sleep came a few minutes later."

She paused at this point, obviously waiting for an invitation from me to go on. A smile was curled at the corners of her lips as she tried to make her report as objective as possible, though I must add, with little success. She seemed to be pretty satisfied about whatever had happened. I nodded, and motioned for her to continue.

"Then, around four in the morning, I woke up, feeling a little thirsty, and had a glass of water. You had moved closer to where I had slept, but I thought nothing more of it until I realized that you were so close that I could feel your breath. After a few seconds, you threw your arms around me and pulled me closer, into a bear hug. 

"I tried to get out of the vice-like grip, but then you said something like 'Oh, Anita,' or something, and before I knew it, your hands were on my breasts - should I continue?"

"Let's hear the whole sordid thing," I said grimly.

"There's nothing sordid about the whole thing," she corrected. "You started to knead my breasts, and as much as I knew it was wrong, it felt good. You have a way with your hands, Daddy, and if Mom has not complimented you on that, let me then be the first to do so."

"She has - let's leave it at that!"

"Sure thing. Anyway, so here I was, your daughter, enjoying getting felt up by my own father, and I was thinking like what more could happen. You were still dead to the world, and I wasn't sure how much I could hold on before I gave in, and then, the unbelievable happened. You started to suckle on them!"




Indian Summer



This actually brought an embarrassed blush to my daughter's face, but she continued. "After that, my biggest worry was that you shouldn't wake up too soon. It was like heaven, to have you eat my tits like that... even masturbation hasn't felt half as good. To top it all, you used your hands to play with my pussy. I guess that's when I really lost it. I was quite surprised - and I admit - quite relieved to see that you had slept through all my sounds, and I almost fainted when you started on my other breast.

"By the time you finished up, I had drenched the sheets with my ... and I knew I had to go back to the room before things went even further, but sex (she grinned when I balked at her use of the word) had worn me out, and I just fell asleep beside you. That's the true story, Daddy! We didn't do anything else."

It took me all of two minutes to completely assimilate everything from the incident to her account of it to her expressions to her use of various words like 'masturbation, sex, pussy...', the latter speaking of a sexual knowledge I hadn't anticipated. My only redemption came from the fact that we hadn't completed penetration. I swore I would never touch hard drinks in my life again. It had been too close, and God forbid, it could have ended another way.

"Well," I tried to make light of the situation. "At least it was good for you. I missed the whole show."

"Daddy!" she answered in a patronizing tone. "I doubt you would have done anything if you had been awake." That was good - she still trusted me. For further reassurance, she reached over and embraced me, unmindful of the fact that neither of us had anything above the waist by way of clothing. Guiltily, I felt my cock jump up as her breasts flattened against my chest, while she threw her arms around my neck. I relished the touch of her skin against mine, and although I have already admitted that there was a sexual reaction, there was also a psychological closure that I felt.

With her head on my shoulders, Poornima shocked me by whispering naughtily, "Besides, it wasn't just good, it was terrific."

Before I could react, she pulled her face away and pecked me on my lips. It was a short, instantaneous kiss, but I felt a little of something extra when her tongue darted out at the last moment to tease my lips, and then she withdrew from my embrace as quickly as she had drawn me into it. The smile was still there on her lips, but at such a close, intimate distance, there was a sensuous hue in the pink of her lips. 

The father in me took over. "Go back to your room, and get dressed."

Wordlessly, she stood up and stretched, her taut body furthering my fantasies. I watched her ass, almost nakedly exposed, wiggle as she trotted like a cat to the door. Abruptly, she turned around, gave me a flying kiss, grinned and then continued on her way out.

The dawn of the Sunday promised a bright, sunny day with plenty of breeze; the weather seemed to be tailor-made for celebrating the last year of her teens. After returning home from a particularly long shopping spree alone, the details of which she wouldn't divulge, Poornima had once again insisted the previous evening that I drop all plans for any birthday bash. I promised her I would.

After the mass, which Poornima attended with a happiness I didn't understand - she had always questioned our faith - we drove to the nearest movie theater and took in the latest blockbuster. I could sense envious eyes on me as I escorted the beautiful woman of whose birth I had been a cause almost two decades ago, and although it troubled me as a father that she should evoke such popularity by mere presence, male teostosteronal ego prided me that she had, indeed, chosen me as her man for the day.

Poornima then surprised me by asking for the driving keys. This was getting to be a day of novelties; my daughter had always preferred that I drive her around. Dressed in the traditional gold-bordered 'mundu-neri', she was a sight to behold - an absolute Goddess. As opposed to the latest trend in her attire, this one was actually downright decent. The perfect homely girl.

At the same time, if you thought her conservativeness did anything to curb the feelings I had for her, you would be as disappointed as I was. Try as I did, I was drawn to the glowing life beside me, and I wanted to be so much more than a father to her. I didn't ever want her to spend her life with another man, for no one could love her - anybody, for that matter - as much as I did. And by the same measure was the taboo of revealing that love.

A lot of people make the mistake that sex is the 75% factor in their lives. I disagree - all that mattered to me as I watched my daughter handle the wheel deftly as we drove towards the beach resort of Kovalam was her companionship. At that moment, I would have given anything in the world just for that tiny flicker of hope that she could be my soulmate. Anita was the as far from my mind as she was in person.

We drove up to one of the most expensive five-stars in the locality, complete with valet parking and white-collared personal welcomes. It was obvious from the way the valet and the doorman greeted my daughter that she had been here before. It occurred to me that the entire date was costing a lot of mind, and I made it a point to talk to my daughter, at a later date of course, about watching her pocket-money. She had saved like a squirrel since she could walk, but the opulence was so obvious that I had little doubt she had any money left.

It took Poornima all of five seconds to be handed over a key of some sort by the smiling clerk. I was confused. "What's with the key? I thought the lunch hall was over there -"

"It is, but that's not where we are going to eat. Come on, I booked us a suite. Just for the two of us."

"A suite! Do you have any idea how much that costs?"

She smiled disarmingly. "I didn't until I saw the bill yesterday evening."

"So this was your shopping?"

"Not all of it - bought a couple of dresses for celebrating my birthday."

I looked around - as far as I could see, the clothes she had with her were the ones she were wearing. "I don't see anything..."

"It's already in the room. God, you are such a worry wart!"

Ignoring my protestations, Poornima dragged me to the elevator, and we rode up to the fourth floor. Confidently, with a surety that betrayed her familiarity with the place, she walked me over to the farthest door in the corridor.

"Voila!"

It was a magnificent room; I was speechless. Large and roomy, with a pink-drowned king-size bed against one wall, long, swirling curtains against full-length glass doors that opened into a balcony which in turn overlooked the sprays - it was a room from my memories of a long-enjoyed honeymoon. And in spite of the vastness of the room, it had a sense of intimacy about it.

Suddenly, I was not so sure I wanted to spend the day in this room with my daughter.

Even before I had a chance to protest, Poornima pulled me inside and locked the door. She looked at me with a satisfied grin, obviously pleased that the reservations had not failed to flatter.

"Like it?"

"Excellent! But it must have cost you a bundle... you shouldn't have," I chided.

She refused to let that dampen her enthusiasm. "It did, and I am sure that it will be worth it by the end of the day. Just relax, Daddy, and enjoy yourselves. It's not every day that you find yourself in a five-thousand-rupee-a-day suite."

"Five -"

She cut me off with a finger on my lips. "Hush," she commanded gently, but firmly. "Let's talk about this no more, okay? Another day, yes, but not today."

"Another day," I promised, "Not today."

"Thanks Daddy," she squealed, and gave me a hug. The sweet perfume of her body wafted in through my nostrils, and I held on to her as if I hadn't seen her in years.

A knock at the door destroyed what could have been a beautiful moment between father and daughter. It was room-service, a young boy with a full jug of lemonade. I thanked the boy, tipped him and turned around to see a rueful Poornima. Apparently, she too must have felt that a positive moment was cut short. Still, being the Neem that she's always been, she smiled quickly.

"Why don't you take it into the balcony, Daddy? I'll join you just as soon as I change into something lighter."

When she came out a minute later, I damn near dropped the glass I had been drinking from. Nothing she had worn around the house had revealed so much - all she had on was a tiger-string bikini, and God knows where she bought it - and the triangles that were supposed to cover her nipples stuck to their task and nothing else.

The dark pink of the areolas could be discerned around the edges, and when she twirled around in the suit, I could almost see the rise of the buds. The bottom wasn't any better either - I could make out the black tuft of her pubic hair peeking out from the sides of the material. And although I wouldn't swear to it, I caught a glimpse of the pink lips of her pussy!

My attention was not missed by Poornima, who had a wry smile on her face when our eyes met. I realized I had been caught checking her out, but she said nothing; instead, she walked over, gave me a daughterly kiss on the cheeks and settled down on the seat next to mine. 

It was sheer torture to see her sitting there, so close to being nude there was just a hair's literal breadth between that and what she wore now, and to make matters worse, the little minx crossed her legs as she checked out a magazine that the hotel provided of its own accord. I tried to concentrate on the sea before me, but the charms of her feminine body were starting to be a bit too tempting.

We watched the sun set, we sat in silence. Conversation wouldn't come - now even Poornima seemed preoccupied, and I feared she was regretting having to spend the day with me. Although she hadn't mentioned anything about our stay for the night, I was hoping we would go back home. In the state I was in, a hotel room did not seem so secure for my daughter.

It was a quarter to seven when the waiter came in again. This time, he had a cake, a beautifully iced sponge, with Poornima's birthday all over it. It was a good thing that my kid had had the common sense to arrange for it beforehand; in my troubled frame of mind, her birthday was out of focus.

As soon as the door closed, Poornima declared that she was going to change into her birthday costume. I didn't realize how literally honest she had been until she reached behind her back, undid the knot of the top and let it fall to the floor.

Dear sirs. I am a man. I have eyes, and I have a body. Blood courses my veins and arteries. Can you then blame me for responding like a man to the sight of my daughter taking off her clothes? Can you empathize with me if I tell you that I desired her...

Poornima hooked her thumbs in the hem of her bottoms, and in one smooth move, she had them off. I let my jaw drop to the floor at the sight of her well-trimmed pussy, a perfect V, and the cheeky pink lips that I just wanted to talk to... My cock jerked as I stared with every right at Neem's body that she was so unabashedly displaying for me.

Poornima basked under my attention for around five seconds before walking nonchalantly to the cake and cut off a slice. Like the previous years, she offered me the piece, and when I opened my mouth, she put it in. I repeated the gesture, but a little of the icing fell on her breasts. Our eyes met, and she nodded imperceptibly. 

Calling upon all the gods in the world to give me the strength, I swiped the cake off her tit, and ate it off my hands. Poornima, though, shook her head. She took another piece, and deliberately this time, wiped it all around the engorged breast. Then she stuck her tongue out, and in a slow, sensuous manner, drew it back in.

I got the message. I lowered my face to her bosom.

The rest of the things happened too fast and too deep for me to recount with any degree of accuracy. Basically, we made love - we had foreplay, we consummated and then we foreplayed some more, and then we consummated some more. The difference was in the fact that neither of us had ever felt anything like it. Our excitement and anticipation had been so much that it was with pleasure that my daughter moaned out aloud when I burst through her hymen. 

And it was only an hour later, when exhausted and contented, we lay in each other's arms and reiterated our love for each other. Poornima admitted that she had been trying to seduce me ever since her mother had left for Saudi, and she had almost given up when a friend of hers suggested this last-ditch maneuver. 

We made love all through the rest of the evening, even missing dinner, and it was only when my tummy grumbled about the hunger the next morning that we left the bed. It had felt so good, so natural to feel her body against mine, and I had slipped on my second ring into her pinky, sort of to signal my commitment.

Neither of us ever revealed anything to Anita about the new face of our relationship, but two months after Poornima confirmed that she had missed her period, my sharp wife of 20-odd years noticed the slight bulge of her stomach.

To cut a long story short, we soon admitted to Anita that the child our daughter was carrying was, indeed, mine. It was only after two days that we were able to speak to Anita again. Fortunately, by that time, she had gone over the pros and cons, and had decided that she was going to be totally indifferent to whatever it was that Poornima and I did.

Anita came home a year later, but by since we had already moved Poornima's stuff into the master bedroom, she resigned herself quite willingly to the guest room. Her grandson, she told me on the day he was born, was making it all worth it.

Anita went back to Saudi a month later, but promised us that it was her last stint abroad. She told me that she intends to come back home and look after her children. Poornima told me that her mother was always trying to get her to agree to have another baby...

And here's the beauty of the situation - Neem's already caught our second kid, but we are waiting to tell the news to my wife in person.

Until then, we'll just keep pretending that we are trying...



Indian Summer



Summer had been dragging on and on with no end in sight. The days were sweltering hot and even the nights didn’t cool off enough to let anyone sleep in peace. Finally Kim and Steve decide to take their last free weekend of the summer and head up to the mountains for a couple of days in hope that it would at the very least be a little cooler and they could get some sleep at night.

Kim packed everything on Thursday night so after Steve finished work on Friday the two of them could just leave without looking back. They threw everything into the back of the white Chevy truck and hit the road, driving north into the mountains and the promise of at least slightly cooler conditions. 

Within just a few minutes, Kim slid over next to Steve enjoying the contrast of your warm body and the cool air conditioning that they had blasting. She took a moment to admire his hard-working body wrapped in a pair of well worn and well fitting jeans and thinning white t-shirt. The summer had left him well tanned, the sun bleaching his light brown hair, kissing it with blonde. She slid her hand up to the back of his neck and started running her fingers around his collar, trailing her fingernails across the small hairs. He smiles, enjoying the attentions and rests his right hand on her thigh, walking his fingers up towards the hem of her shorts.

Steve glances over at her from time to time, knowing he needs to watch the road but also enjoying the view next to him. Even after nearly a year he still wants to tear her clothes off and ravage her body every time he sees her. Pale skin, blonde hair, large 36D breasts with very sensitive nipples, long legs and an endless sexual appetite. What more could a man want?

Kim decides to see how much she can tease him before he makes her stop. She starts running her fingers up and down his inner thighs, pausing for a few moments every time she reaches the top. It doesn’t take long for Steve to become rock hard. Kim just smiles and continue running her fingertips along his legs. She moves her hand up under his t-shirt, lightly scratching his well muscled stomach and chest, pinching his nipples and watching him squirm because he has to keep his eyes and attentions on the road. While Kim is doing this she decides to press things just a bit further by leaning over and lightly running her tongue up the side of your neck, tasting a bit of the salty sweat remaining from Steve’s day out in the sun. He lets out a small moan but makes no move to stop her. She whispers in his ear, telling him how much she loves the feel and taste of his body – how much she is looking forward to having it all to herself for the weekend. She drops her hand into his lap and lightly massages his throbbing cock through his jeans. Steve begins to squirm but is confined by the seatbelt and his clothes. 

Kim decides that she can help a bit with the clothes. She undoes the button and zipper on his pants and slides her hand inside his boxer briefs to help guide Steve’s throbbing cock out into the opening. He is a bit surprised, but she can also see that he is very excited. Steve has a huge smile on his face and a glimmer in his eyes that tells her that he isn’t going to stop her from doing anything that she wants. 

Kim starts out by slowly running her hand up and down Steve’s very hard cock as she lets her eyes wander to the scenery outside. They have begun climbing up into the foothills and there are trees surrounding the road. It only takes a few moments for Steve’s cock to become slick and her hand to find a rhythm that he seems to be enjoying as there is occasionally a moan of pleasure while she watches the trees go by.

She decide that his cock looks too tasty to simply sit there and be massaged so she slowly leans down and takes it in her mouth, licking every inch and slowly sucking on it. Steve rests his hand on the back of her head and begins running fingers through her long blonde hair. After just a few seconds there is a swerve and slamming on the brakes. Afraid that Steve nearly had an accident Kim sits up and begins to apologize.

Steve’s voice comes out in a low growl… “oh no, I just want more and I found a place to stop”. Kim smiles and continues sucking gently on his hard cock, enjoying the sensations. She doesn’t get far before he reaches for her, unbuttoning her shorts and sliding his hand inside to feel how wet she has become. He smiles at the sopping mess he has found with his fingers and tells her that he’s had enough play and wants to move on to some serious action… but they need more room.

Without even closing his pants, Steve hops out of the truck and moves around to the back. Kim sees him hop up into the bed where she had stashed their camping gear and moves a few things around. He comes to her side of the truck and opens the door, pulling her out. As he tosses me into the back, she sees that he has unfolded a couple of sleeping bags to form a sort of bed. Before she even settles in he pulls her shirt off and slides her shorts and soaking wet panties off, tossing them to the side. He nibbles on her nipples for a few moments, enjoying the smile it brings to her face and the way he can make her squirm beneath him. But Kim really isn’t in the mood for play by this point. She pulls his face up to meet hers and tells him not to bother… she wants him inside of her.

Steve is more than happy to grant her request and slides in between her legs, pressing the head of his throbbing cock up against her, slowly pushing inside until every bit of his cock is inside her tight pussy. He loves that feeling, it seems like no matter how often the two of them have sex, Kim is always tight when they start out – almost like becoming a virgin again every day. Steve moves slowly in and out but it isn’t long until he is pounding against her. She digs her fingernails into his back and pulls him deep inside of her so he can feel her cum. 

Hearing her moan in his ear puts Steve over the edge as well and the feeling of her tight pussy contracting, squeezing his cock as tight as it can is enough to make him cum as well. 

Steve smiles and tells her that they’d better get moving before someone stops to see why they’d pulled over. Km reaches over to grab her shorts but Steve stops her…. telling her that even though they have to get moving he isn’t done yet and he wants her to just slip on her t-shirt… no bra and nothing else on. He simply slips on his boxer briefs. They toss the rest of the clothes onto the floor of the pickup and continue driving up the road. Within seconds Steve had his hand between Kim’s legs slipping fingers up inside her pussy to replace the cock that had been there just moments before… 



Indian Summer



The weekend was ours to spend in the moment of lush reds, oranges, yellows and browns. The city seemed to crowded, the sea told us to look to the West and the cries of autumn beckoned us to the hills. We decided to spend the weekend at my home lost amongst the hills, the fall season in full swing, blessed with perfect Indian Summer days. 

Sunday, a lazy day. My bed warm and soft like the sacred cavern between my thighs that you explored for hours the night before. Nestled in and so warm the craving scent of our love making still hung in the air mingling with the crisp bite of fall night air. The damp sex aroma laced with shivery cool air called me from my dreams pulling me into the morning light waking my craving for more of you. 

My eyes open slowly, I feel your breath running down my back, your arm wrapped around me nestled in the curve of my waist as your hand cradles a breast gently in your hand. My desire flows down my legs and I laid there devouring the delicious yearning that you always give me. A hunger for you, deep in the pit of my very being that could only be satisfied when we totally opened ourselves to each other and begin to feast. You are a banquet to me always a new exotic dish served up for me to explore through my senses becoming lost in a reality that only you create for me. 

Painful, aching throbs throughout my body, a heart beat on the verge of an attack, calling to you to wake. You feel my need for you even in your sleep. Naturally you pull yourself closer to me, our bodies one even in rest. Legs entwined, your sex pushing into the warm, wet femininity. An arm wrapped around me the other reaches up as your fingers become lost within my auburn curls. Your face cradled within the nap of my neck, you can not be any closer and I slowly melt into you no longer alone but fused within all that you are.  Slowly, my body begins to shake, a thin line of rich moisture forms under my breast as my breathing starts to shorten. Closing my eyes, I live within you. My nipples hard and painful reaching forward for your touch as my arm reaches back to envelop you closer into me.  You sleep and I feel your smile as the warmth starts to race through me. A fire deep within my sacred heart, burning long, hard and strong. Yearning for you, relaxing I just let go.

The fire spreads between my legs so hot, so wild as it pushes up through my body. I can not hold on anymore. Shuddering,I cum, lost in you, a gasp from my soul flying from my mouth. You wake and know what you have done to me, even in your sleep. 

Smiling and sleep ridden, whispering in my ear "Du Lac, I so like to wake to your soul ripening." I roll over and kiss you deeply, your mouth so wet, filled with last nights sacred juices, I gush as I taste myself alive within your mouth. 

Struggling to pull back, my eyes alive and full of passion I whisper "Thank you Muse" as we start to laugh as if we are children set free in a candy store. 

It is a beautiful day edged in golden light. The suns last summer warmth spills onto the still green grass that calls for one last barefoot walk! Wrapped in a long gauze dress I leave you to sleep as I toss my toes through the morning dew. Cold and damp on my feet the dew clings to me. 

Walking with the dew, I slowly come back to this world. Birdsong fills the air and a soft breeze blows across my face, lips parted, eyes partially closed I smile thinking of our morning. 

I hear that you are up, some work to finish before we can start the day. My hammock calls to me. Indian summer sun hot and still intense my skin calls to feel the healing rays turn it to a golden brown. I take off my dress only bikini bottoms on, I lie in the hammock and let the sun move across me. 

Floating away as the sun's rays increase with the heat of the day, goosebumps rise as I become totally free into the last days of summer. I feel the sun fingers moving from my temples across my eye lids, light kisses moving down my cheek onto my neck. Stretching like a cat I am so content. 

Breathing deeply from the center of my heart I start to float down towards another realm. The sun's kisses move down my body. Softly licking the underside of my full breast, circling moving towards the nipple as it rises to meet the sun.  Hard now and burning, my nipples are suckled by the Sun God. I sigh gently, as he continues down my body. Traveling down to my stomach, small beads of perspiration gather in my navel, a salty lake inviting one to deeply dive into the warm waters.  Down my black covered mound, the heat increasing my new desire. Feather touching my legs the inside of my thighs down to the toes. My back arches to meet the heat, lost in all the sensuous gifts that Goddess blesses upon us.  The colors of fall swirl through my mind. Joyous the ride over the tops of the God brushed hills. Screaming colors flashing through me, now lost in the experience of nature's gifts I do not hear you come up behind me… 

"Du Lac do not open your eyes, do you trust me?" I smile gently, slowly nodding my head speechless with the nearness of you. A dark cover covers my eyes, cold and silky as you tie the blindfold behind my head. Giggling, I already feeling the pressure of desire building within. 

You smell clean, fresh, still wet from the hot shower. I hear placement of articles on the ground, grass cradling the toys we soon will enjoy. My hands above my head you tie them with the same glorious silk tie you wore last night. I know the feel of it by heart. Still rich with our passion from the night before. This beautiful red silk tie still vibrates with the want and need that we bred during our dinner. 

Roaring energies coursing through my wrists as you tie them just tight enough for me struggle, leaving leverage so I can still get free. I hear water and feel the wave of coolness brush across my face.   Waiting with my heart in my throat, trusting that you only want my purity to come forth. Knowing no harm will come to me. I keep hearing the movement of water in a bucket, with objects immersed in the water, I listen with all I have. 

My breathing slowly becoming faster, small gasps of anticipation escape my full lips. I hear you breathing, moving near me. I can feel you, only increasing the excitement. 

Standing over me straddling the hammock, your weight slowly swing the hammock as you sit between my legs. You hover over me, your lips inches from mine, my mouth parts, waiting, needing, the kiss soon to come. Your tongue slides along my parted lips prodding them to open accept your warm mouth deep on mine. The kiss, deep, passionate, giving me all that you have. 

Ice cold hands cradle my breast, shocking alluring, now shivering, my body is yours. My back arches up and I squeal with pleasure. Your warm mouth on mine, exploring while the freezing hands lightly trace the outside of my breast, my nipples rising calling for your touch. My hands tied above my head, blind, I am lost in your aromas. Rich, deep, lusty I can already tell you want me again.

Your hardness rising against the inside of my thighs and the deep kisses slowly become one with our breath. The cold against the hot, sun kissed skin of my breast is more than I can take. Hips move upwards, feet planted on the ground, I need to feel you close to me. 

The heat from my nipples warms your fingers, you pull them with a twisting that causes enough pain for pleasure to seep through. Moving to my throat, your mouth so warm, you suckle on the soft spot where my pulse beats wildly. Kissing my heart. Movement of your arms, arching backwards to you, ice cold liquid laced with warm apples and oak splashes across my chest. Wine droplets running down my ribs, you drink from the well of white wine that lies between the valley of my breast. 

Your tongue lapping up all the wonderful rich colors of fall that course through my blood. Moving to my navel, hands still cold travel so lightly down my sides as you drink from the lake at the base of my mound.

My legs open gracefully, the gates to heaven inviting you to enter. You whisper for me to turn over, I lie with my stomach flat on the hammock, the wine sliding down my spine pooling at the small of my back. Floating down the river that courses down my body, mouth so hungry, thirsty, so needing to be feed. I feel your hard cock pulsing through the thin material covering my ass. 

Pushing, craving to come home. Fingers move under the band as you rip them free from my body. A mouth moving across my full buttocks, biting with fingers moving toward the sacred cave of the Goddess. I can not but push up to you, desire screams through me. I have lost my mind, now all I can do if feel what you make me live in this moment. 

Bliss, ecstasy, one with the world as your finger slides easily into my femininity, drenched like a cave at the base of the sea, waves crashing and feeding the source of fresh female liquids. 

Hot, warm wine of Du Lac. Whimpering moans float from my lips I sense your smile, you love to bring me here,lost in you and myself, no where to run just be in the moment. Your finger soaked with my own juices reaches and enters my tight ass. Slowly stroking me I relax as the sensations overwhelm me. "Du Lac do you trust me?" I can only cry "Yes!" 

The hot throb of your cock slowly pushes me open. Ecstatic pain coursing through me as you enter my ass so tight, hot and waiting for you. The ultimate act of trust that I can give to you. Vulnerable and open, I feel you gracefully enter me as I lose my breath. The pain is joyful, you are so deep within me, holding it there grasping my hips filling me up with nowhere else to go. 

Your desire and control radiate from you, wanting to let loose but not to hurt me. The rhythm of our bodies start to dance as you pull back your head, growing bigger I feel your heart beat in the center of my being. I scream "please now" and you let go. 

Moving together, thrusting in and out, the heat of the sun beating on us cool to the touch of our skin. We are on fire. I can no longer take the holding back as my muscles clamp down on the head and shaft that is so deep within me. 

A scream released, primal from the depths of my soul. Filling me with your male wine, pumping me full of the sacred liquid I love to receive. Your screams join me as we peak, lost within the moment of each other, here God lives.  Bodies shake as we slowly come down from the mountain above this world. I feel your weight come down on my back as your lips search for my lips. We kiss deeply. No words, just us saying thank you on a perfect Indian summer day. 



Indian Summer



Some nights aren't meant to be spent inside sleeping. I live where the cold burns your skin in the winter and then melts it in the steam and heat of summer. My name is Anne and its Indian summer. It had been heavy and hot that day, but now that it was full dark, the air smelled different; cut grass and wood smoke. 

I'm 21 but I still live at home. My family has a large farm and I am employed by my parents. I don't know if my parents would be angry if I was out in the middle of the night, but I wasn't quite ready to test those waters.

My friend Kelly was having a bonfire in a very remote part of her Dad's mint farm. Our family's farms abutted each other and we often used a private back road to visit each other. I worked the screen out of my window and grabbed the fire safety rope ladder that my Mom kept in the closet. I was dressed in cut-off jeans and a light pink tank top; I could grab one of the windbreakers in the garage in case it got colder. The fire and shared bottles would keep everyone warm. 

Kelly was going to have her new man with her. I hadn't asked her who else was supposed to be there. Nobody available interested me at the moment so I anticipated a solo night with good conversation and a few laughs.

My bare feet were silent on the cold, wet grass as I jogged over to the garage on the far side of the yard.  Earl, my father's foreman, lives in a roomy apartment attached to the back of the garage. He would help me roll my father's car a ways down the lane before I started the engine. The 63' Lincoln with suicide doors made me wet. It's the only thing that I've ever coveted. I was trying to get my Dad to sell it to me; we'll see was all he said.

"You're on your own now, this should be far enough. Keep it low and slow and your old man shouldn't hear a thing", Said Earl as he slapped the roof. I tossed him a pack of his favorite black and tans and grinned at him as I pulled away. I liked Earl, he was nice and he wasn't a gossip.

The car emitted a low, healthy rumble that made my pussy tingle as I picked up the pace a little. My dark hair moved softly in the mint scented breeze from the open window. I shivered and my nipples got hard.  Damn, maybe I should cut out early and spend some time getting myself off in my soft cozy bed at home. I decided to wait and see. Ghost mist was hanging heavy here and there on the long road and then disappeared when I shut off the headlights as I approached the fire. 

Kelly ran up, leaned way in the window and gave me a big wet kiss on the cheek "Hey there babe, guess who's here, and alone" she laughed, wiggling her eyebrows in a provocative way. She smelled like her favorite rum and her eyes were sparkling. 

I scanned the few scattered people around the fire and my eyes locked on to one man instantly. "Oh my god Ben is here? Do I look awful? Man I didn't even wear any shoes." I whined. 

"Anne, you never look awful and you also know that Ben won't mess around on his wife. I just like to tease you". Kelly said swinging her arm around my waist and handing me her bottle. "I know", I smirked taking a pass on the sticky, sweet hooch. "The wanting and not having is the best part, it gets me hot" I laughed. 

Ben was Kelly's boss as well as her cousin. No one could stand his wife but he was good to her anyway, and that was part of his charm. All night I watched him, from my perch on an old fallen log. I was stone cold sober all but I was drunk on lust.  He was looking back at me from across the fire. The sky had begun to pale, and everyone was gone except for Kelly, her boyfriend, Ben and me. I headed to my car, the two love birds were already zipped up in a big camping tent, so that they could keep an eye on the fire as it burned down; Ben was going to walk home through the field.

As I reached for the door handle, I felt a quick movement, disturb the air behind me. I gasped as Ben spun me around, pressed my back against the door and whispered quietly. "I'm going to stay faithful. I'm not going to take you into the dark and fuck you blind; do dirty bad things that I know you would like."He said as he ground the hard ridge of his erection harshly against my cleft. He bent down and bit the inner curve of my left breast sharply; there would be a bruise. To my utter surprise he kissed me softly before he turned and walked away.

I sat in my car eyes staring ahead at the three mile straight-away that led to my bed. My breath was fast and ragged; my bare toes were curled over the hard metal pads of the breaks and the clutch. Tiny bits of gravel, trapped between my foot and the pedal, ground into the soles of my feet and made me shiver. I felt like I was going to fly apart.

With deliberate swift movements I started the car and moved to the very beginning of the road. I held my breath, popped the clutch and took off. I was working her hard with a smooth steady hand. When I looked down and saw 105 on the speedometer, I backed off and slowed it down until I was coasting into the turn that crossed over to our farm. 

I stopped the car and shut off the engine. Whimpering, I pulled of my top and then worked my cut offs down. Roughly I pulled on my swollen nipples; grinding my soaking pussy into the warm leather. I couldn't stand it anymore, I had to cum. I scratched over the bruise that Ben had left, needing to feel the ache. I spread my legs wide and pinched my vibrating clit and plunged my middle finger as deep in my pussy as I could, swirling it around, until the juices were running down my fist. As soon as I rubbed the pad of my finger on my g-spot the orgasm hit...hard. My vision blurred as my pussy clenched onto my finger over and over again. The soles of my feet were on fire and my whole body was flushed with pleasure that almost hurt. I started to cry and just gave myself up to it; sobbing it felt so incredible.

Finally, reality seeped in and I pulled my rumpled clothes back on, stopping to breathe for a minute when I was finished; wanting to soak in the joy of being a female. I was taking the car back to Dad, but today we were striking a deal. We had bonded and the car was mine. She was the perfect partner for enjoying my Indian summer.



Indian Summer



The thunderstorm ahead looked menacing, and the fuel warning light was beginning to wink on and off, so what with discretion being the better part of valor and all, he decided to pull off the interstate and gas up at the next exit. A gust of wind whipped across the prairie, and he rode it out by shifting his weight a little, leaning into the wind a bit. He flipped on the cruise control and lifted his hand from the throttle, flexed his wrist a few times, then slipped his helmet's visor open a few inches and let some fresh, ozone-laden air wash across his face. The smell of an approaching storm had always intrigued him, and had since he was a little boy, but with age came a deeper appreciation of the dangers that rode on these storm-borne winds -- and today he definitely felt danger in the air. He scanned the clouds again, saw a curtain of greenish cloud drop from the deep slate blue wall that lined the northern horizon, and he felt the hair on the back of his neck bristle with electric anticipation. 

He felt more than heard the rifle shot of lightning that arced into the scorched Utah landscape somewhere off to his left, but the thunder that followed a microsecond later crashed into him with urgent ferocity. He felt an icy grip on his heart for a moment before big, fat raindrops hammered onto his visor -- just as he slammed it shut, and within that heartbeat his body was assaulted by heavy, pummeling rain; visibility dropped to less than a hundred yards as sudden blinding, whiteness defined his universe, so he cut the cruise control to let his speed bleed off slowly. He saw that the few cars ahead had already pulled off the road, but there wasn't any shelter out on this barren moonscape for anyone on two wheels -- and as it was only a few more miles to the gas station he plowed on through the driving rain.

And the rain was surprisingly cold, too, he realized, and that set off alarm bells in his head. 'With icy rain, get ready for pain'? Wasn't that one of the old motorcyclists' sayings his father had passed along, once upon a time? Now, wouldn't a nice pelting of icy hail be peachy-keen? He swept the road ahead, looking for any sign of hailstones bouncing on the concrete -- then he saw the loom of gas stations not far ahead. He fought the urge to hammer the throttle and race for safety, but he simply felt ecstatic when he made out the red and gold Shell sign through the swirling mist, and he slowed as the exit approached. He pulled off the highway and over to the covered fueling area with a sigh of relief, then he slipped the kickstand down and crawled off the bike, stretching all the kinked muscles he could in the process. 

"Pretty ugly out there," he heard a voice say, and he turned towards the voice, saw an ancient man standing by the pump behind his, filling up a battered old pickup truck.

"It is that," he said. "Rain's getting cold too."

"Probably be snow up there tonight," the old guy said, pointing toward the Wasatch mountains off to the east. 

"What about hail? Get much around here?"

"In October? No...usually too cold now for much of that, unless you hear thunder..." And this received wisdom was accompanied moments later by another bolt of lightning and the shattering crash of thunder, then a pea-sized barrage of hail. The old guy smiled knowingly as he finished fueling his truck, then he climbed into his truck. "Keep your eyes open," the old man said. "Never know what you'll run into around these parts." 

"Got that right," the man said. "Have a good one."

"You too." The old man waved, then rolled up his window and drove off into the storm.

He lifted his bike onto the center-stand and opened the fuel cap, then fed his debit card into the pump and put almost five gallons into the tank, all the while casting a wary eye toward the horizon, looking for signs the storm was receding or moving closer. The sky was almost black now, though it was not quite noon, and he thought the air was quite cool for October. When he finished fueling the Beemer, he rode the bike over to a diner across the parking area and went inside for a cup of coffee, and as he walked to the door he saw a woman standing by the side of the building, staring off into the ether -- oblivious to the rain. He shook his head and went inside, ordered coffee and a club sandwich from the grumpy waitress behind the counter and sat there, waiting, hoping she would turn off the air conditioning before hypothermia set in. He cleaned his sunglasses while he waited for the coffee, then checked his email, hoping for a note from his son. As was almost always the case, there was nothing.

He looked at his watch: just a little past noon, plenty of time to make it past Salt Lake City, maybe all the way to Pocatello if the storm let up a little. He finished his coffee, pushed aside the soggy sandwich and paid the bill, then when a burst of sunshine came along he went back out to the bike. The woman was still out there, still almost rigid, only now she was staring at him, and while he couldn't decide what flavor of crazy she was, something about her seemed to call out to him, and without really knowing why he walked over to her.

"You alright?" he asked as he looked her over, trying to decide if she was dangerous or not.

"Yup. Nice rain. Been a long, hot summer." The woman's gaze remained fixed in his direction, but seemed focused somewhere behind him, almost beyond infinity.

"I hope I'm not sticking my nose into your business, but are you waiting for someone?"

And at that, she tuned her eyes to face his directly. "Yes, I suppose you could say that."

"Do you live around here?"

"No. Not anymore."

"Listen, I'm not trying to be nosy, but are you okay?"

"Okay? I'm not sure I understand the question."

"Uh...well...is there anyone I could call for you?"

"Call? Oh, no, there's no one."

"Somewhere I could take you? Is your home around here?"

She looked at him quizzically now, then smiled. "Sorry. No home, either."

He nodded his head, perplexed, because there was something about this woman he simply couldn't ignore. Maybe it was her eyes, as honest and at peace as any he'd ever encountered, but something about her was drawing him inward, and suddenly, he remembered the lightning. He pulled back from his memory of the light, looked at her, took her in: late fifties maybe, close-cropped salt and pepper hair, clear skin, rail thin and almost his height. Worn-out khakis, denim shirt, ragged blue wind-breaker, old work boots and a navy blue ball cap. All very clean, but soaking wet now, and he noticed she was shivering slightly.

"Have you eaten anything today?"

She shook her head.

"Are you hungry?"

"A little, yes."

"Could I buy you lunch?"

"That would be nice."

He led her into the diner and they took a booth by the windows that looked out on the parking lot. The waitress, Miss America 1956, came by and dropped off two menus, and he noticed the waitress's scowl when she looked at the woman.

"You want somethin' to drink, honey?" Miss America asked.

"A Coke, maybe?"

"We got Pepsi."

"Oh," the woman said, "that's fine."

"Make it two," the man said.

"Right." The waitress waddled away, leaving them in silence.

"The club sandwich is dreadful," he whispered. 

She shrugged. "Would you order for me?"

He seemed taken aback. "What...do you like?"

"Something simple. A salad, maybe."

"Are you a vegetarian?"

"No. Listen, I don't want to put you out. It's nice of you to do this, but I don't want to impose."

"Oh. Okay."

Miss America returned with the Pepsis, and asked if they were ready to order.

"Two t-bone steaks, medium. Each with loaded baked potato, salads with Thousand Island."

"We got broccoli."

"Then I guess we're having broccoli."

"Cheese sauce?"

"Don't suppose you have Hollandaise?"

"Sure do. On both?"

"Reckon so."

"Okay. Hope you're not in a hurry." The waitress disappeared again.

"What's your name?" the woman asked him.

"Tom. Yours?"

"Mary."

"Of course."

"Excuse me? Why do you say that?"

"Mary. That was my wife's name."

"Oh. How long has she been gone?"

"Ten years." He looked at her closely again. "How did you know?"

"The ring on your finger, the sorrow in your voice."

"Ah." He looked at her left hand, saw the ring on her third finger. "You too?"

"I was married to Jesus Christ. I quit. A few days ago."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm, I was, a nun."

"Until three days ago?"

"Yup."

"I take it the parting wasn't exactly amicable?"

"You could say that." She smiled, though there was something beyond pain in her eyes.

"And you're heading where?"

She shrugged her shoulders through the pain of her smile.

"How long have you been here? I mean, standing out there?"

"Yesterday. I walked down from the mountain. Got here late in the day."

"And you slept where?"

She pointed across the parking lot. "Under that tree."

"Uh-huh."

"Could I ask you something?" Mary said.

"Sure."

"What were you running from?"

"Maybe if I knew you better, Mary, but let's not go there, okay?"

"Okay." She looked at him anew, measured his words. "Where are you headed, Tom?"

"The Tetons."

"Never been there. Heard it's nice up there, though."

"Leaves should be turning about now."

Miss America returned with two salads and two ladles full of dressing, then puttered off back to the kitchen, and he set about fixing his salad.

"Would you do mine too?"

"You bet."

They ate in silence for a moment, until the quality of the dressing hit home. "Damn, this is home made!" he said loudly, so they'd hear him in the kitchen.

"You bet your sweet ass it is!" he heard the waitress say from the kitchen. "We make our own mayonnaise, too!"

"Holy cow! This is really, really good!"

"It is good, isn't it?" Mary said softly, as if she was remembering something far away and long ago. "So, why the Tetons?"

"Well, why not? They're nice to look at, and with the leaves turning? Thought I'd take a few pictures, just laze away a few days."

"You're a photographer?"

"No, but I like to spend money on cameras. Makes me feel important."

"Really?"

He grinned. "I should warn you. I've been accused of being a world class sarcastic son of a bitch more than once."

"I see. So, what do you do for a living?"

"Nothing."

"Sarcasm again? And so soon, too."

"Sorry. I'm retired."

"Why the bike? I mean, you seem a little old for 'middle-aged crazy'."

"Gee, thanks. I think."

"So?"

"Something I've been wanting to do. For a long time."

"No time like the present, or so the saying goes."

"Exactly."

"So, after the Tetons? Where to?"

"Were you, like, an interrogator for the CIA in your last life?"

She laughed, a small, well-controlled little laugh, and he noticed for the first time that she was a fairly pretty woman...or maybe he was just getting attuned to her features. "Sorry, no. I was just wondering all night long when you were going to show up."

"Uh, sorry. You lost me."

"Well, it's just that I never figured the universe was just going to spit me out under that tree and leave me there. I knew that someone, someone good was going to come and talk to me."

"You did, huh."

Miss America delivered plates heaped with steaks and potatoes, and a moment later she returned with a small platter heaped with broccoli Hollandaise. "We put lemon butter on the steaks. Try 'em before you use salt and pepper."

He tore into his and pronounced it perfect, and Miss America beamed. "I'll tell Dave."

"Damn, this is really good grub. Best steak I've had in ages."

"This place has a reputation," Mary said absent-mindedly.

"Man alive! You're just not kidding, are you?"

"It is good, isn't it?" she said as she cut into her steak. "What did you call that sauce on the vegetables?"

"Hollandaise? You've never had it before?"

"No, but it's really good."

"Eggs, butter and lemon. The best I've had in a long time, too."

"The owner retired from New York , some big city banker; he has a ranch somewhere around here. They use their own beef, too, if I recall. I think he's a pedophile. Not that that matters much these days."

"What?"

"Oh, you know how it is. People talk. So, anyway, after the Tetons? Where will you go?"

"Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, wherever the wind blows, really. Then back home, maybe. Why do you ask?"

"I was wondering. Is there room for two on that bike?"

His eyebrows arched. "Did you, indeed?"

"It must be like flying. Or riding a horse across the prairie," she said, spreading her arms wide, "before all this was built."

"I suppose so."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I know I'm intruding, but I was just wondering what it feels like. Daydreaming, really."

"What happened?"

"You mean, why did I leave the Church?"

"I guess. Kind of hard to pick up the thread of your story, if you know what I mean."

She laughed again, yet her eyes were never evasive. "My story, huh? Well, it's simple enough. I was an orphan, raised at a Catholic facility in central Montana. Went to a Catholic college in Great Falls, then into an order, I guess you'd say, as a nurse, but eventually I sort of fell into social work."

"Did you always want to be a nurse, or a nun?"

"Yes, to both."

"Ever have a boyfriend, anything like that?"

She smiled again. "No, I am truly a virgin Mary!"

Now it was his turn to laugh. "I guess I deserved that one."

"Yup, you sure did."

"So, you quit. Why?"

"Same reason anyone quits. Politics. Burned out..."

"Lose your faith?"

"In the Church, perhaps," she smiled, "but not in God."

"Politics? Did you lose a fight?"

"That's probably as good a description as could be. But it's the constant need to fight that hurts in the end. I guess the story never changes though."

"Sisyphus?"

"No, Diogenes."

"Ah. The lantern?"

"None so blind as though who will not see."

"Yes," he sighed, "that seems to be the fate of our species."

"Hence the motorcycle? Pirsig? Zen?"

"Good book, but no, I'm getting old, and like a lot of people find that I'm becoming afraid of the night."

"Never went in for the church thing, I take it?"

"Atheist, through and through."

"Well, that's the only way. There's not much point in 'sort of' believing, is there?"

He smiled again. "No, I suppose not."

"So, since you won't tell me, let me guess. You were a physician?"

He tried to keep smiling, but was a little surprised nonetheless.

"It's your hands. They're a dead give away."

He looked down at his hands, and sighed at his one vanity.

"You were a surgeon?"

"Pediatric cardiovascular, yes."

She closed her eyes suddenly, took his hand in hers and rubbed his fingers for a moment, then she pulled away quickly. When she opened her eyes again they were full of tears.

"I'm so sorry," she said at last. "I shouldn't have."

"Shouldn't have what?"

"So, either of you two want dessert?" the waitress said, suddenly by the table. "We have fresh pecan pie, and a homemade pumpkin cheesecake."

"Cheesecake sounds good," he said. "How 'bout you?"

"Sure," Mary said, wiping a tear from her cheek.

"Okay," the waitress said warily before sliding back to the safety of her kitchen.

"What shouldn't you have done?"

"You're sick," she said. "Cancer."

"Okay. And you know this how?"

She was staring at his chest, then lower, at his gut; she placed her right hand over his chest and moved it across his body several times.

"It's in your right lobe, and in the liver." She paused, took a deep breath, then moved her hand lower -- but he stopped her, moved her hand away.

"How do you know that?"

"It's why I'm no longer with the church. I see things, things other people can't."

"You see illness?"

"Yes. Among other things."

"And this was seen as a threat to them?"

"Yes."

"Were you persecuted?"

"Yes."

"So. You want to go on a little motorcycle ride. Is that about it?"

She nodded her head. "Yes."

"Was our meeting a coincidence?"

"There are no coincidences, Tom."

"I kind of thought you might say that."

"Yes, I saw you asking me that question last night."

He nodded his head, not knowing if this woman had escaped from a mental institution or whether he needed to find one -- fast -- and check himself in.

The cheesecake turned out to be homemade as well. The best he'd ever had.

+++++

They slipped into Salt Lake City and and stopped at a BMW dealer; he bought her a helmet and a riding suit, some gloves as well, then they stopped off at a Target and bought some clothing for her, as well as a few necessaries, and when all this new stuff was stowed he got his R1200GS back onto northbound Interstate 15, heading for the Idaho border.

He'd been tossing around the idea of camping that night, but thought better of it, thinking the woman might need a hot shower and some clean sheets after a night in the rough, and at a rest stop just inside Idaho he made a reservation on his iPhone at the Lava Hot Springs Inn, an ancient place in one of the strangest, most wonderfully out of the way places imaginable. They pulled into the tiny town just as the sun slipped behind the mountains, and he got their stuff up to the room before setting off on foot into the small town. They found the hot pools, as well as a few decent looking places to eat, then began walking back to the Inn.

They'd not had the opportunity to talk much since lunch, but now, walking in the late twilight he found her extraordinarily easy to talk to, almost like they were old friends, and he found himself wanting this walk to last a long time... 

And then, out of the blue, she took his hand in hers.

"This is nice, Tom."

"It is, isn't it? Kind of unexpected."

She looked at him and smiled.

"Oh, I forgot. No coincidences."

"I don't think this is a coincidence," she said.

"What else have you 'seen'?"

"Sex."

He gulped. "I've never had sex, Mary, but I have made love to a woman a couple of times."

"There's a difference?"

"Yes. A huge difference, I think."

"How so?"

"I think sex by itself is a primitive, barely restrained explosion of lust. Making love is what two people who are deeply in love enjoy together."

"And never the twain shall mix, is that it?"

"I think so."

"I saw sex. Wild, uninhibited sex. You and me. Tonight."

"You saw it?"

"Like an echo. What we're about to do will echo through time, forward in time, as well as back. I felt that."

"I wish I could believe that, let alone understand..."

"You have a small scar, about three inches long, on the inside of your right thigh, just above the knee."

He stopped dead in his tracks. "How the devil do you know that!"

"I saw it, Tom."

"You saw something that hasn't happened yet?"

"Yes, because it has."

He shook his head. "Uh-huh."

"It's like memory, Tom. Everything that's going to happen already has, just not in a way that's easy to find. Your brain isn't wired that way."

"And yours is?"

She smiled. Look, not all memory is flooding into your mind all the time, if it was you'd go out of your mind. You have to have the ability to select the events you want to remember, and you can because that's the way your brain is wired. Well, the future is kind of like that too, it's out there, in a way, and for whatever reason, right now I can see it."

"You can see the future?"

"Yes, but I'm not the first. I know that makes you uncomfortable, but dreams are like that too, you know?"

"Dreams?"

"Yes, in our sleep, we find our way to these echoes, for some reason all of you can. That's why they can be so unimaginable, so bizarre. Yet so knowable. Why they sometimes feel so familiar."

"Knowable? Dreams?"

"Yes. And not just to ourselves, but to others as well."




Indian Summer



"Others?"

"Yes, to others. You came here with your wife. Driving to Jackson Hole, about thirty years ago. Stayed at the same inn."

He staggered backwards under the weight of her words. "This-is-not-possible!" he gasped. "Not possible!"

"And yet you know it is, Tom. You should, of all people."

"Me? Why me?"

"You struggled so. Why?" She closed her eyes, placed her right hand on his belly. "Did it hurt much?" 

"What?"

"The metastasized tissues, from your colin, to your liver and lungs. It was growing. Did it hurt much?"

"A little, yes."

She looked up at him with concern in her eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry?"

"Come, let's go to the room now. You have so much to teach me!"

"Teach you? My God, what are you trying to teach me?"

"Me? The nature of reality."

"Oh, is that all?"

"Yup, that's all she wrote, folks!"

+++++

It was sex, pure and simple sex that first night -- there wasn't even one morsel of love in sight, not anywhere in their little room at the inn.

When they returned to the room, showered away the accumulated grime of two days wanderings, they fell dripping onto one of the single beds and consumed one another. There were raw oysters and steak on a stick, all covered in cream gravy, and no excuses made for the mess they left on the table. What Mary lacked in knowledge, Tom more than made-up for with barely restrained enthusiasm, and even all thoughts of mortality left him in the heat.

He had pinned her to the bed and buried his face between her thighs, driving his tongue so deeply between her nether folds that the muscles in his face began to ache, and after he'd lost count of her orgasms, when she begged him to stop just to let her catch her breath, when he'd pointed her legs to the heavens and driven his tongue deep inside her puckered anus, she'd screamed so loud he'd begun to wonder when the gendarmes would arrive. She was, he decided, an orgasm masquerading as a human being, a caged creature denied the simple truth of being a woman for far too long. She exploded into this bizarre new existence and her past melted away into the air like the barest wisp of smoke.

And yet she seemed to relish giving as well as receiving with an even more astonishing abandon. Her first tentative nibbles rapidly gave way to more frenzied dives, her twisting hands and swirling tongue driving him deeper into those less remembered warrens of molten release, those places he had long forgotten when the reliability of memory gave way to a survivor's needs. She bit him, coaxed him from all his usual hiding places, pulled his memories from their secret need and tore them to shreds, and the first time he came that first night she took all he had to give in her mouth, her dancing tongue driving his mind ever deeper into expanding clouds of blinding light.

And then she was on his face, kissing him, filling his mouth again before mounting his face, driving her need within their mingling essence. She drove through the clouds and the rain, leaning over, watching his eyes as she began pulling his mouth deeper into the womb of her need, deeper into the mists of desire that enshrouded her serial denials until he had spun her over, his spear poised for the final surrender, and he had looked into her eyes so gently before piercing her need.

Nothing he had ever experienced served to prepare his soul for what happened next.

Her legs had wrapped around his waist and she had pulled him in, then she held him there, her body trembling, tears streaming down her face. Holding himself up on his arms, he looked at her and he remembered Love. What it felt like to breathe love, to taste love, to look love in the eyes and feel the warmth of ten billion suns caressing his soul. He lowered himself into those eyes and moved in the currents of life and love again, felt himself carried along within the dancing eddies of an ever-expanding universe until his body too was atremble, until his need for release joined hers, and he held her within the night until there was nothing left but sweet sleep.

+++++

He tried to let her sleep in while he repacked the GS early the next morning, but he was always a restless traveller, always on fire to hit the road as soon as he could see the sun shining through treetops, and he was bending over, checking the oil when he felt her standing there. He stood, felt light-headed and she steadied him, then he felt her cradling him from behind, her hands on his chest, her face on the back of his neck.

"I love you so," he heard her whisper, then he felt the spreading warmth of tears on his back and he turned to meet this new need.

"Do you, indeed?" he said through his own wave of rain.

She looked up, caressed his face with her mouth, then their lips joined, their tongues danced.

He pulled away years later, looked into her eyes.

"No. Not now," he said, clearly wanting her again. "We have a short ride to make, then we can settle in for a while and figure all this out."

"The Tetons? Are we close?"

"Half a day, maybe."

"Are we going to camp?"

"No, but maybe we will in Colorado, at Mesa Verde, and at Arches, maybe."

"Arches?"

"National Park. Eastern Utah."

"Oh."

"You didn't get out much, did you?"

"No, not really."

"So, I guess I should ask...but do you really want to do this? Make this trip?"

"I want to be with you. I understand you want to do this, so that's good enough for me."

He looked at the simple purity in her eyes and shrugged his shoulders. "Okay. Well, I'll settle up and then we can grab breakfast and hit the road. Sound good to you?"

She grinned broadly, nodded her head vigorously. She was almost like a little girl, he thought.

The sun was free of the trees when they pulled onto Highway 30 later that morning, the heat of day falling on their faces, their parched souls soothed by cool autumn airs. Then they were eastbound on 89, east of Montpelier, Idaho; he was gently banking the GS through long sweeping curves, and he heard her squealing more than once as the bike leaned, saw the shadows of her outstretched arms in the mirrors and he smiled at the memory of his own first time on the back of a bike.

That had been in the sixties, he recalled, on the back of an old tan Harley, sitting behind his dad. He could almost smell the old man's leather jacket again, the deep rumbling of that massive twin shaking the air as they cruised through the mountains of northern California towards Mount Shasta. Those golden hued days had been the best summer of his childhood, among the best days of his life; just he and his dad, riding the Pacific coast, darting into rain-soaked mountains from time to time, camping every night. Life had been reduced to the simplest equations that summer, everything had been clear. His mother had passed away at Christmas the winter before, yet they'd both remained ruggedly inconsolable, had taken comfort in the rituals she'd used to care for them over the years. They'd wake up, cook pancakes and bacon and eggs together almost every morning before heading out to school and work, and if anything, father and son had grown closer with each passing day...

He caught a shadow on the road ahead, and instinctively braked...HARD! The GS's anti-lock brakes dug into the coarse asphalt and he felt Mary's arms encircle his waist as she bike shuddered to a stop -- just as a herd of several hundred elk walked out slowly onto the roadway. The closest appeared to be no further than twenty yards ahead, but then he heard grass thrashing to his right and a deeper wave of Elk emerged from the shadows and began crossing the road, parting around the bike as they walked slowly by. He reached down slowly and turned off the engine, turned his head slightly to speak to Mary, but she beat him to it.

"I know," she whispered. "Don't move a muscle!"

"You got that right!" he whispered back.

One of the cows walked up to the bike, stopped and looked at him. The animal regarded him silently, as if wondering whether to walk around -- or over him, then it leaned in close and sniffed around his gut. The animal pulled back and regarded him once again, only this time he was sure he saw sympathy in her eyes, or at least some kind of understanding.

He kept his moves gentle and slow at this point, but he reached up and took off his helmet. The cow regarded him not at all differently, though one or two other elk slowed to watch while this happened. The cow leaned in once again and he felt the bristles around her nostrils brush the side of his face, then her breath blowing into his ear, and he was aware he had a strangle hold on the bike's grips -- as he tried to stifle the ticklish sensations wracking his body.

The cow leaned in closer still, placed it's forehead on his and pushed gently. He pushed back, then nuzzled the side of his face along hers for what seemed an eternity, then she stepped back from the bike. 

"Oh, my," he heard Mary say, and he turned and looked around to see what had alarmed her.

"What the..." was all he could manage. The bike was completely surrounded by elk, but they had circled them and were standing side-by-side, facing inward, staring at him.

"This is a dream," he said after a moments silence. "This isn't real."

The cow came up and nudged him again, as if trying to push him off the bike, then she stepped away and walked off, then all the other elk parted and walked off into the aspen grove on the far side of the road. Within moments they had all disappeared, and he paddled the bike to the road's shoulder and flipped down the kickstand. Shaking inside, he dismounted and walked across the roadway and into the trees, looking for the animals -- but they had all simply disappeared.

"Now what the Hell was that all about!" he said when he got back to the bike. Mary was standing beside the bike, looking at a distant waterfall, lost to the world. He walked to her side, put his arm around her shoulders.

She jumped, startled, then came back to him.

"What was that?" he said again, this time gently.

"No coincidences, remember?"

"Okay, but what does it mean?"

"I don't know...yet." She turned and looked at him, her eyes full of questions. "It was kind of like she knew you, wasn't it?"

He nodded his head. "Impossible. It felt like a dream."

"Life is dream, Tom. It's as simple as that."

"Yeah. Row-row-row your boat..." he said through a sigh. "Who knows? Maybe it is."

"Life is where soul's come to dream, Tom, and sometimes it's where they come to play. For a while, anyway."

"If you say so." He turned and looked off into the aspens again, still shaking inside. "Well, we're burning daylight; let's get going..."

They stopped for lunch at Cafe Genevieve in Jackson, Wyoming, then left town and entered Teton National Park and rode along the base of the Tetons towards the Jenny Lake Lodge. He heard her gasp more than once when the mountains loomed ahead of the road.

"Nice, aren't they?

"I've never seen anything like this before!"

The wound slowly through aspen glades and pine forests, small lakes off to their left, the huge mountains always towering at arm's length just ahead and to the left of the road, then they turned into the lodge's parking lot and pulled up to the main building.

"Cabins?" Mary asked when they rolled to a stop."

"Sort of, but it's one of the best hotels in the country, bar none. Kind of a hidden gem, though. Not many people know about it."

He checked into his reserved suite, and they had the cabin for a week so they unpacked the bike completely, washed up then got back on and puttered over to Jenny Lake and parked there. He stretched, then they took off on foot down one of the trails that rolled along beside the northeast shore of the lake. A few aspens were already turning amber, but most were still vaguely greenish, though there were some larger deciduous trees, maples he guessed, whose leaves were already deep orange, verging on red. The air was still and cool, so the towering mountains left sharp reflections on the water, and behind each tree new views waited to take their breath away. They saw deer from time to time, and heard elk bugling across the lake, and they walked several miles. Though the pain in his gut was bothersome, Tom managed to enjoy the trail, and Mary seemed to as well, for that matter.

'She seems so alive out here,' he thought, 'almost reborn.' 

"I think I'm getting hot," she said when they paused after scaling a long incline, and she was indeed sweating.

"Indian summer...must be eighty degrees out! Need to go into town and get you some shorts."

They both heard it...a loud snap on the trail just ahead, like a large branch cracking under the weight of something heavy...and he motioned her to crouch down beside him. 

They heard heavy breathing next, and the unmistakable sounds of a large animal moving roughly through the forest, and all he could think about was not having bought any bear spray before coming out here, but he felt a cool breeze blowing on his back, blowing towards the sound coming from the woods, and he hoped the animal would pick up the scent and move away... 

But then all sound stopped.

He turned his head slightly and saw the grizzly not fifty feet away, staring at them. The bear stood up, easily ten feet tall, and it let out a sound that crushed his very soul. The animal stared at him, stared into his soul, before settling back down on all fours and ambling down the hill towards the lake.

"I think it's time to get the fuck out of Dodge," he whispered, his heart hammering in his chest.

"That's sounds like a plan," he heard her say. 

They walked quietly away from the scene, walked rapidly down the trail towards the bike, yet after a few hundred yards they picked up their pace and broke into a light jog. After several minutes they slowed again, stopped to look at the trail behind them, but they didn't feel like stopping -- yet, and continued on their way.

"That was a big goddamn bear!" he said when they got back to the parking lot, and he heard someone nearby ask:

"Did you see a bear? Where?"

"Yup. A silverback grizz, maybe two miles down that trail," he said, pointing.

"Did he see you?" the man asked.

"Yup!"

"How far away was he?"

"Forty, maybe fifty feet. I'm not sure."

"Jesus H Christ! Man, you two are lucky! There was a kid killed here last week; they're still looking for the bear that did it, too. You'd better report this to the rangers!" 

Shaken, Tom looked back up the trail, then at Mary. "Easy to forget this isn't a petting zoo."

"I'll never forget that sound," Mary said. "Could we head back to the lodge now?"

"Yup, good idea. Anyway, I may need a change of underwear."

She laughed. A nervous little laugh, but she was clearly shaken, too. He started the GS then helped her on, and they puttered the mile or so back to the lodge. The whole time he wondered about the day's two encounters, and her continued insistence that there were no coincidences in life. If this was true, if there really was some sort of purpose to these encounters, what was going on? What did it all mean?

The sun had slipped behind the Tetons when they got back to the lodge, and after they'd dismounted he looked at his watch, shook his head when he saw it was already after six.

"Damn, the time's flying today," he muttered to himself.

"Are you going to report the bear?"

"Hmm, what?"

"Report, to the rangers?"

"Let's go see if someone at the desk can help us with that. I think we have dinner reservations soon, anyway."

"Are you hungry?"

"I'm still too goddamn scared to be hungry," he said as he took off his helmet. "Need help with yours?"

"Could you? My hand's are still shaking."

When he finished he stuffed their helmets into the GS's saddlebags and they walked inside and over to a gal who seemed to be more or less in-charge.

"We ran into a bear on the Lake Trail, and someone said we should report it. Could you help us with that?"

"Certainly, sir. Where were you, about," she asked, pointing at a map on her desk, "and how long ago did this happen?"

He filled in the details and the girl got on the phone and talked to a ranger for a moment, then she came back and asked if the animal had any yellow or purple paint visible on it's fur.

"No, no, I think I'd remember that, too."

"Okay." She returned to the phone, finished up the call then came back to them. "Was there anything else?"

"I think we have dinner reservations, but I can't remember the time?"

"Your name, sir?"

"Mann. Tom Mann."

"Oh, here it is. Yes, at seven, and you'll need a jacket, sir."

"Really?"

"Well, it's not a hard and fast rule, Mr Mann, but we encourage men to dress for dinner. It keeps the dust and sagebrush off the linens."

"Well, I need a drink, not a change of clothes. I hope you don't mind."

"I understand, sir. We can take care of you, right this way," she said, pointing to a small bar.

He sat in a corner, placed his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes. He felt Mary there beside him, then he asked for two waters when the waitress came over. He shook his head when he looked up at the girl, then at his own shaking hands.

"Rough day?" the waitress asked.

"I've decided I don't really care for bears," he said, and the girl laughed.

"You have to take them seriously around here. All the way to Yellowstone."

"Heard there was trouble with a kid last week?"

"Happens up here every now and then, more than people might imagine. Sure you don't need something stronger?"

As he listened to the girl, and indeed, this conversation, he felt like he'd heard it all before somewhere...maybe a long time ago...then the girl took off to get their water.

"So," he said, turning to Mary. "No coincidences?"

"No. I don't think so."

"What did all this mean, then?"

There was a long silence between them now, but in the end Mary shrugged her shoulders, nodded her head.

"That elk? The cow? She kept pushing you, pushing you off the road. I think she was telling you to choose a different path than the one you were on. The bear? Well, he was blocking your path, wan't he? The first a subtle push, the second a more overt warning."

"Uh-huh."

"Hey, you asked, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"I asked you yesterday, and you blew me off. What were you running from?"

"My son. Our past."

"Why?"

"He doesn't know."

"That you're sick?"

He nodded his head.

"Why not?"

"His life has been coming apart at the seams ever since his mother died. He's just never been strong, strong enough for this, anyway."

"Oh? He wasn't strong? His life was coming apart at the seams? So, I suppose you thought your running away was going to save him the pain of watching you die?"

"Something like that."

"And then what? He finds out you died somewhere out here on the road, with some strange woman? How did you think he was going to feel then?"

"I really don't know."

"Come on, Tom. You dealt with sick people every day of your working life, so let me assume you're not as stupid as you must want me to think you are. How about abandoned. Lost, alone, and abandoned. Does that sound unreasonable?"

He shook his head. "I really don't know. I don't understand him at all."

Now it was her turn to feel lost, and perhaps a bit alone. How could this man, this gifted man, fail to see all the things she so obviously saw? What had happened to cause such blindness? "You didn't think your illness might have been a good time to bridge the gap, to overcome the loss of understanding between the two of you?"

"I doubt it would work out that way."

"Why?"

"We drifted apart."

"So?"

"Everything is repeating, Mary."

"Repeating? How so? You mean your mother? That she died when you were young?"

He nodded his head. "When I was seven. But...I never told you about that."




Indian Summer



She smiled. "And your father? You were close to him."

He looked down at his hands, tried to hide from the tears he knew would come next.

"What happened?"

"Vietnam."

"Tom, what happened?"

"He didn't come back."

'Oh,' she said, quietly. "So the motorcycle? It has something to do with him?"

"We took a trip, a long trip. Just before he shipped out, in '67. Up the coast, then up to Banff, then back down here, on the way back home. I'm going to all the places we wanted to go to that summer, before time ran out. We took all our tomorrows for granted, I guess? We just knew we'd get to finish that trip someday."

She was holding his hand now, kissing his fingers.

"We ran out of all our tomorrows," he said through his tears. "That's life, I guess. You take it for granted -- until you can't."

"And Mary, your wife?"

He laughed, a mean, derisive little laugh. 

"What was that for?" she asked, clearly lost.

"I loved her once, you see, before I really knew her. And I could have. Loved her, I mean. But she held on so tight I could never really breathe."

"You mean she loved you too much..."

"I couldn't grow. There was no room inside her love for anything other than total devotion. Blind devotion. She wrapped her soul around the idea of Us and never let go. She couldn't tolerate the idea that as people grow old, they change. She clung to the remnants of what we had been in our twenties, and she never let go."

"She was in love, Tom."

"Maybe so, but in the end, I didn't know how to love her. Not that kind of love, anyway."

"Kind of love? What do you mean?"

"I guess I don't see love as a 'one size fits all' kind of thing, Mary. I never did. I loved my dad more than anyone or anything else in the world. I still do, as a matter of fact. And I loved my mom. She was a saint, and there's not a day goes by that I don't think about her. And Mary. Her love for me was as pure as..."

"Your love for her?"

He looked away, lost within the implicit denial that hovered in the air, unsaid. Unsayable now, as it always had been. "I was trying to say that her love was different than mine. I have never loved anyone so intensely that the rest of the world was pushed aside, pushed out of my mind."

"And Mary? Was she wrong to love you so?"

"Wrong? How could that be wrong? How could my love for her be wrong? Who makes those kinds of judgements, anyway? And why the Hell would they matter?"

"Does love matter, Tom?"

"Does it matter? No, I guess it doesn't, not really. You're born, you live, you die. You don't get to take your American Express Card with you, and your memories don't mean a goddamn thing after you turn to dust. Whether you lived well or poorly, whether you were happy or not, doesn't matter in the end. You draw your last breath, cry your last tears, and go gently into that good night."

"You seem so certain. Are you really?"

"Hell, yes. Heaven is a fairy tale for little children, an idea used to sell people afraid of the dark on the idea of being good little church goers. Get on your knees and pray little boy, or you'll surely go straight to Hell..."

"So, there's no Heaven? No Hell?"

He chuckled. "I guess I haven't been making myself clear. Sorry."

"So, go with me here, but if there was a Heaven, Tom, what would it look like, for you? Where would heaven be?"

He looked away, looked through the windows of his memories, the warehouse of his experience, and he settled on a moment without hesitation.

"I'd be with dad. On that trip. That time would last forever."

"Not Mary? That seems so sad. Your life, your love, all bound up and sacrificed to a memory. I wonder? Why?"

"Why?" he said. "I'm not sure I understand. I sacrificed my life? Is that what you're trying to say?"

"Yes, of course. You promised to love her, but you never truly did. You wanted to love your son too, I suppose. But did you? Truly?"

"I never said I didn't love her."

"Oh?"

"I said I loved her differently than I loved my folks."

"Oh yes. The varieties of love. Was that your main point? Or were you making a quantitative analysis of love? The quantum mechanics of a sigh, the molecular cohesion of a kiss?"

"You're a world class smart ass, too, aren't you?"

"Misery loves company, Tom."

"I sacrificed all our tomorrows, I guess, on the altar of my practice. Even when she was sick. And when it was all over, I damn near sacrificed my son, too."

"Where is he now?"

"At Stanford. His senior year. I guess you don't keep up with bullshit like football, but he's been their starting quarterback for two years, he's a Heisman candidate, the Big Man on Campus. He'll play pro ball, anyway."

"So, you're protecting him?"

"Yeah, sure, that's it," he said sarcastically.

"You're not?"

"No, I'm not, but it sure sounds good, doesn't it?"

"Does he love you?"

"I don't know. If he does, he's never said so."

"Never?"

"Yup. Not once, that I can recall, anyway."

"You keep looking for an email from him. Why? Have you tried to tell him?"

"I just wanted to let him know I was traveling...on the road. In case he called."

"Does he call?"

"Not in two years."

"You haven't heard from him in two years?"

"Going on three. The end of his freshman year."

"Didn't he come home? For vacations, or weekends?"

"No, he's had girlfriends. He stays with them, or he stays with friends, anywhere but home. I guess someone, the school I assume, gives him plenty of money, so he doesn't need me, not any more, anyway."

"Did money define your relationships?"

"Oh yeah. Doesn't it define all relationships?"

"Tom, does money define our relationship?"

"Are you saying it doesn't?"

"No. But of course you can't see that yet."

"No? You're sure?"

"Yes, I am. If you want to walk off into the hills tomorrow and just lay down and die, that's what we'll do. If you want to ride, to retrace this memory that never was, then I'll ride with you. If you'll let me."

"Why?"

"Because there are no coincidences, Tom. Something brought us together. I know you can't accept that, but I'm here for just one purpose. To be with you, to help you make a choice."

He looked at her and smiled, raised his hands above his head. "Okay," he said. "I give up."

"Give up?"

"You keep invoking some higher power, spoon feeding me this idea of destiny, and yet here I am, the world's biggest atheist. You might as well be trying to convince that wall over there. God? I mean, really..."

"And yet you're still on the same path, aren't you, Tom?"

"Ah, so Rocky and Bullwinkle are pushing me down the path of divine enlightenment? Is that about the size of it?"

"Who?"

"Cartoons. From the sixties."

"Sorry. We didn't have television in Stanford, Montana."

There was a pause in the air, then: "Mr Mann, your table is ready," the gal from the lobby said, interrupting them.

"Saved by the bell," he said.

'That remains to be seen,' she thought, though she smiled at them both as they stood to move into the dining room.

They ate ceviche and paella under candlelight, a gentle fire snapping in the fieldstone fireplace across the room. He stuck with his usual dark rum Collins all through the meal -- though he ordered a bottle of red for her. 

And their talk was more restrained now, his mood more subdued, but he kept looking at her from time to time, mesmerized by her simple beauty, her measured movements. She reminded him of a very tall, emaciated Jean Simmons, only with a drill instructor's crewcut. He'd met Simmons when she was older, more than once in Santa Monica, and had always adored her classic beauty, her gentle way of making an important point, and he sensed the same sort of reserve in this Mary. What was it about her? A gentle strength, deliberate and knowing, not impulsive? She seemed to measure her words with care, not use them as weapons, and this was rare when emotions ran deep, as they had in the bar, indeed, as they had since their meeting outside the diner.

But while he appreciated what she stood for, the whole notion that the events of the day had been scripted by some all-knowing deity made his skin crawl. There was an ingratiating smugness in people who held such simplistic views about the workings of the universe, and it was easy to slip into thinking this woman wasn't any different -- yet he was sure she was: feeling his gut, in effect feeling his cancer, had convinced him of that. There WAS something very strange about her, and he was convinced he needed to listen to her, hear what she had to say, so he struggled to really hear what she said about "his path", their talk about his fallow love for his wife, and about the poisoned relationship with his son that resulted.

But he hadn't told her yet about his "infidelity", for that was still how he looked at it, even now.

About the time his son graduated from high school, a few years after his wife, his son's mother had passed, he had fallen for a girl. A nurse, a not-so-young nurse, a seductive woman many of his colleagues had tried to warn him about. She was a headhunter, he'd been told, on the prowl for a rich one, but her charms were unmistakable, her beauty overwhelming, and circumstances one day led him into her arms. She had comforted him when he was down, and within a few days he was seeing her as the way forward. Then he too, after a few months together, had seen through her many disguises, but it was too late by then. His son despised her from their very first meeting, and had hated him for allowing weakness to overcome judgement, but with college starting in a matter of weeks father and son had never had a chance to repair the damage. All that remained was this new wall, a wall where there had once been understanding, even acceptance. The memory of the break was still painful, like a raw wound he feared touch -- hence he danced around it, ignored it, anything but deal with it.

Mary had finished two glasses of wine by the time desert rolled around, so he ordered some Bailey's to finish off the evening, then they walked across the lawn to their cabin and slipped quietly inside. 

"I think it's time for a shower," he said, looking at the road grime on his riding suit's sleeves.

She sniffed her armpits, wrinkled her nose. "I think I smell like a goat."

"Good thing I like goats."

"Yes, and I bet you're a horny old goat, aren't you?"

"That too," he said through a grin.

"You feeling UP to it, tonight?"

"Well, like the song says, I get by with a little help from my friends."

"Look at the size of this shower!" she said after she wandered into the bathroom. "Holy-moly!"

"Yikes, you could play handball in that thing," he said when he came in and looked at the huge, tile-lined expanse.

"Interesting choice of words, Tom."

He grinned as he started peeling off his riding suit.

She watched him closely, then started undoing the laces on her boots.

Soon they were racing to get their clothes off, then dancing under the warm water from the shower's six heads. They soaped each other off, then rinsed under the dreamy influence of massaging hands and gentle kisses, and he felt her working her hands over his gut, probing him, but soon her hands moved lower, and she was massaging the area just above his pubic hair when he felt it.

Warmth, an almost electric warmth, spreading from her hands into his groin.

He stood -- transfixed -- under the warm water, as the fire moved from her hands through his belly and up his back.

"Does that feel good?" she whispered.

"What are you doing to me?"

"Sh-h-h...don't ask any questions..."

He put his arms around her lightly, kept space between their bodies so she could do her thing, but whatever it was she was doing was relaxing him in a way he had never known. Then, quite suddenly everything felt different; the muscles in his arms and legs felt stronger, the pain in his gut fell away like a morning fog wilting under the sun, and even his eyesight seemed suddenly sharper.

Her hands moved to his back, and he pulled her close, ran his nose through her hair.

"Are you an angel?" he said at last...

...and then she pulled away from him for a moment, looked him in the eye, though she continued to smile... 

"What makes you say that?" 

"I've never felt this way before. Not ever."

She pulled him close, ran her fingers through his hair and he felt like even his mind was growing clear, more at peace than it had been in ages. He closed his eyes, accepted this as some sort of gift, and drifted within the probing heat emanating from her fingers...

...then he felt her fingers roaming south, back to his belly, then lower, and she was kneading the head of his cock, encircling the meat with her hands, and the same pervading sense of warmth spread with each stroke -- until he felt himself getting hard. 

And even that was different. He felt like pure, molten iron down there. Iron, like the way things had been...maybe thirty years ago, and soon he felt like he was going to explode. She kept kneading him, wrapping her hands around his meat and pulling the head, and he opened his eyes and looked at her, wanting to know who or what this person really was...

Her eyes were wide open, and she regarded him carefully as he stared into her eyes, then she placed her hands around his shoulders and lithely hopped up and mounted him, wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling herself deeper. Her head dropped back, water cascaded down her breasts, and she began to gyrate slowly on his cock, driving herself deeper and deeper into this new need of theirs.

Her head snapped forward until her chin rested on her chest, and even with her head so severely downcast she still looked at him, her eyes on fire, then her head tilted quizzically to the side as her orgasm began building. Her motion became violent, fingernails dug into his back, then she placed her hands on his spine and the overwhelming warmth that coursed through him sent him into wave after wave of complete orgasm.

He closed his eyes as the universe turned incandescent; he thrust into each wild gyre, losing himself in the symphony of light her hands sent through the core of his release. He was on his toes, straining to meet the ferocity of her gripping legs, and while he felt the intensity of her orgasm through the heat pouring from her hands, he grew almost afraid he might spontaneously combust as pulsing waves of fire raged through his body.

Then her mouth was on his, her tongue probing his, and the fire spread to his face, down his throat into the core of his disease...and he felt for a moment that all the wayward cells in his body had been transformed into pure, radiantly healthy tissue...but then he knew that wasn't so, that such a transformation could never be. Through these anxious thoughts he felt her begin to relax, felt all the fluids of their release running down his legs, and then onward, into the spiraling darkness below. And yet she moved slowly still, pulsing gently to the rhythm of his beating heart, looking into his eyes, diving through his soul, searching for the truth of his existence.

Then he was aware this woman had been clasped to him for what might have been hours, yet he felt no strain at all. It was as if she was as heavy as the light that poured from her soul into his, and he tentatively tried to lift her from his waist -- but all her weight returned in that instant. She lifted herself from his waist, dropped to her knees and took him in her mouth, held his cheeks in her hands and he felt the heat again, the iron fury building in his groin returned as her mouth encased his shaft. Minutes-hours-days later he felt his orgasm blasting free, flooding into her mouth, and he glanced down to see what looked like gallons of the stuff flowing past her lips, running down her chest.

His knees buckled, he felt himself falling into darkness but as quickly he sensed her hands catching him, and she cradled his fall, guiding him to her side. She lowered him to the tile floor of the shower and let the water run over his body, then she lay beside him and caressed his face. 

"That was amazing," he said some time later, looking into her eyes.

She nodded her head, bit her lower lip before a grin consumed her face. "It's so fun. I had no idea it could be so fun."

"I'm sorry about, well, the whole mouth thing."

"What? You mean, your orgasm?"

He nodded his head.

"You're kidding, right? That was the best thing ever!"

"Yeah? Well, you just shot up to the top of the charts, darlin'. From now on, when I think of sexy, I'll think of you."

Her smile deepened as she continued running her fingers through his hair. "Thanks, Tom. That's very sweet."

She was still staring intently at him, a sense of wonder in her eyes, and he felt such peace in his soul. "What would you like to do tomorrow?" he said finally, trying to break the spell.

"Be with you," she said.

"Would you like to go into Jackson?"

"If you do." He tried to stand up but she held him close. "Not yet, Tom. Please, not yet."

"What? Why..."

"Just hold me, Tom. Don't let go, ever. Okay?"

He leaned into her, held her close, and he felt her lips searching for his, felt her breath on the side of his face, then he kissed her. He felt unreal, like his very soul mingled with hers when their lips met, and he felt her hands holding his face, the warmth flooding once again, and suddenly he remembered that other Mary. That Mary, his wife, and how he'd felt the very same on a night not so unlike this one... 

'I don't understand,' he found himself thinking.

'Understanding comes with acceptance,' he heard her say, but their lips were joined, their tongues caught in the light of this strange, new dance.

'So, you're in my thoughts now?'

He felt her pull away, saw her nod, then watched as that same grin crossed her face.

"I'm sorry, but I really don't understand what's happening."

"Then accept it."

"I don't know how. What's happening isn't real."

"What do you mean, this isn't real? How isn't this real?"

"People don't do this, Mary! They don't think thoughts to one another, they don't fill another person with searing energy, negate the effects of spreading cancer, and they sure as Hell don't become weightless! So, none of this is real, none of this is really happening!"

"You were always such a scientist," she said quietly, through her smile.

He nodded his head, then her words hit him like a hammer-blow.

"What do you mean, always? How the Hell could you possibly know that?"

She turned away, her form shimmered in the water-laden air for a moment, then he heard the unmistakable crash of lightning... 

...and he was standing in front of the diner, just after he'd fueled-up during the storm, two days ago... 

...he was watching a strange looking woman, pale, gaunt, as she stared off, into oblivion... 

...he walked over to her, and she turned to face him... 

"Why are we here again?" he said when he recognized her.

She took his hand and they walked out into the parking lot; she looked after the receding storm, then pointed.

He followed her finger, looked down the interstate at a cluster of emergency vehicles scattered along the road, their red and blue strobes pulsing through the remnants of the storm.

"What is it? An accident?" he said as he looked at her again.

She nodded her head. "Yes. An accident."

He shook his head, the pain of realization sudden, and complete. "Is it...me?"

She turned to him and gently smiled. "Yes."

"Am so, I'm what...dead?"

"Yes."

A tear sprang from his mind's eye, and he looked down the road and felt the warm water from the shower beating on his bare skin. He looked at Mary...not that other Mary, but the Mary he'd known forever, his wife, the mother of his unborn son. 

They were in the shower.




Indian Summer



The shower in their cabin, at the Jenny Lake Lodge, in Teton National Park. 

This was their honeymoon, he remembered. They'd been married a few days, and he was so madly in love with her. That was all he could remember now...their one true love was all that was left in the universe.

"You're here," he heard his wife whisper, and he turned to her, to those sweet eyes he had fallen in love with those oh so many years ago. "At last...you're here..." She was crying now, crying so hard she was shaking, and she dove into his arms and held on to him with a blind fury that staggered him. "I've been so lonely," she sobbed. "I was afraid you'd never find me..."

"Well, I think I had a little help."

"Oh? She found you?"

"Yes. You could say that."

"There were so many places...places you could have run to..."

"Yes, I suppose so. Well, I'm here now, Mary." He took her in his arms and pulled her close as he looked around the cabin, unsure of who he was, or what had happened, but he held on to her like he'd never let go of this moment ever again, and then suddenly, he was quite certain he never really would.

*

(C)2015 ABW|Adrian Leverkühn