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Canon Ch. 01

By: invictus17



Amy Madigan lay on her bed, humming the same eight notes over and over. The deep harmonies and ever more complex layers of counterpoint of Pachelbel's "Canon in D" soothed her nerves and calmed her mind, as they always did. 

She began to accept the situation for what it was, and slowly began to see the positives. She had been nervous about moving so far away to a strange place where she knew no one, anyway... 

And she had always liked Uncle Geoff....

She felt a gentle tap on her thigh, and opened her eyes. Her mother was standing by her bed. Amy took off her headphones and sat up, moving over a trifle. 

Her mom sat down on the bed. "Pachelbel?" 

Amy smiled. "You know me too well, Mom." 

"Are you okay?" 

She drew up her pale, lovely legs and wrapped her arms around them. "I'm okay, Mom. I'm even getting to like the idea." 

Her mother, an older version of Amy herself, blinked. "Really?" 

"Really." 

Before her mother could speak further, Amy shared her thoughts. "Stanford is a long way away," she said, "and I don't know if I'm ready for that. I'd be a little fish in a big pond, I wouldn't know anybody, and I'd be surrounded by rich snobs." She smiled. "Half the kids in my class are going to State anyway, and I'll have friends there." 

She was speaking as the thoughts occurred to her. "And I've always liked Uncle Geoff." 

Ellie Madigan - her given name was Elvira, which had been a source of annoyance ever since she had married - smiled and shook her head in wonder at her daughter. So young, and still so wise. 

"What?"

"You amaze me, Amy. You always have, but especially now." She turned her head to the doorway. "Frank!" she called. 

Amy's father, a tall and slender man with a diffident air, appeared instantly. He had obviously been waiting in the hall. "Our daughter is going to survive," said his wife. Then she grinned. "Told you." 

Frank looked at his daughter sadly. "Amy, I'm so sorry," he said, for the twentieth time that evening. 

Amy jumped from her bed and ran to embrace him. "It's okay, Daddy," she said against his chest. "Really, it is. This is going to be a good thing. Did you hear what I said?" 

He nodded, then realized she couldn't see it. "Yes," he said. 

She leaned back and looked up at him, and he saw that her smile was real. "Look at it this way, Daddy," she said. "At State I'm a cinch to make the Dean's List!" 

Frank couldn't help it; he laughed. Amy was a National Merit scholar and the salutatorian of her high school class - and she had hardly broken a sweat to do either. 

He looked down at her - Amy was not quite five feet tall - and marveled. So pretty, and so smart - and so sweet and understanding. What had he ever done to deserve such a daughter? 

He hugged her and rocked her back and forth for a moment. She let him, and hugged him back. Amy's mother rose to join them, and his arms embraced them both. "My girls," he said. 

Amy and her mother giggled together and squeezed him. They were the same height, and he kissed first one dark head, then the other. "Come on," he said. "Let's go out for Italian." 

His wife blinked up at him. "But-" 

He shrugged. "I got a big pay cut, Ellie, but we still get to eat out now and then. And this seems like a good time." He released them from his hug. "Come on. I want some lasagna." 

Amy and Ellie looked at each other, looking more like sisters at that moment than mother and daughter. "Mmmm... Lasagna," they said in chorus, in conscious imitation of Homer Simpson. Then they laughed and went to get ready. 

---

Amy closed the door of her room and changed from her skimpy shorts into jeans. She didn't mind showing off her legs, but not when she was out with her parents. She swapped her tank top for a sports bra and a polo shirt, and slipped on some sandals. Good, she thought. 

She went into her bathroom and brushed her hair - deep brown, straight, shining, and "long enough to sit on," as her mother said. She knew it was out of style, but she didn't care. She thought about tying it back, then decided to leave it loose. 

Lipstick? Blusher? Naah. She looked pale, as always, but she was going out with her parents, not on a date. At that thought, her lovely mouth twisted into a wry smile. 

It didn't occur to her that her clear, smooth, creamy-white skin was beautiful, just as it was. She had had exactly four zits in her young life, the last at fourteen - four years ago. 

She put on her glasses, and smiled without bitterness. They were new, and very flattering - and very expensive. She was momentarily glad that she had gotten them before her dad got the bad news at work.

Then she frowned. Those damn weird eyes of hers. The right one pale blue, the left a deep brown. She thought again about getting tinted contacts so they'd match. Other people liked them, though... 

Amy shrugged and decided on just a quick bit of lip gloss. Why not, she thought. Can't hurt. 

Amy thought of herself as presentable, maybe a little better than plain. She had no idea she was drop-dead, stunningly, heartstoppingly beautiful, with or without her glasses. 

Her curtain of shining hair swirling behind her, she picked up her small purse and went to the door - thinking about lasagna, not college. 

--- 

Over dinner, they talked about it. "Thank you, Amy," her father said. "I felt so bad about -" 

She waved a hand. "It's really okay, Dad," she said. "I'm sorry about tearing up this afternoon. I'm getting used to the idea, and the more I think about it, the more I like it." 

She took a sip of wine, glad of the privilege; it was new. "Are you sure Uncle Geoff is okay with this?" she asked. 

Her mother coughed discreetly. "You know Geoffrey, Amy," she said. "He wouldn't complain if he had a bullet in his leg. But he's been very lonely since Aunt Tina died. I think he's thrilled." 

"He was lonely before that," said Amy's father. "Tina was sick for a long time." They all looked solemn at that. Geoff's wife had died of cancer, and it had been a long struggle. 

"The only thing he asked me was if you could cook, and if you'd mind doing it," said Ellie. "He said he was so tired of TV dinners and takeout he could throw up. Geoffrey was always helpless in the kitchen." 

"That'll be fun," said Amy. "I love to cook." 

"And you'll be doing some housework, too," said Ellie. "Laundry, vacuuming, dusting. It'll be hard at first. I'm sure his house is a mess." 

"Don't be so sure," said Frank. "Geoff was a Marine. He likes things neat." 

"Uncle Geoff was in the Army?" 

"Ooo, don't say that, Amy," he laughed. "Not Army. Marines. He retired as a sergeant-major. I know he brought home two Silver Stars and a Navy Cross from Viet Nam, but that's all I know. He doesn't talk about it much. I think he saw some rough stuff over there." 

Amy swallowed a bite of garlic bread. "What else do I need to be careful about?"

"Well, he is seventy," said her mother. Amy's eyes grew big behind her glasses. 

"Really? He didn't look that old the last time I saw him." 

"Well, that was six years ago, honey. You were twelve." 

Amy thought about that, and felt sad. "Has it really been that long?" 

Her father nodded. "We saw him at the funeral," he said. "He's kind of kept to himself since then."

"I remember." 

She did. She remembered a strongly built man, with broad shoulders and a craggy face; not as tall as her father, but wider, with a warm smile that was rare that weekend. Then she remembered something else. 

"I had a crush on him when I was little, didn't I?" 

Her parents laughed. "You sure did," said her mother. "You told me you thought he was 'the most handsomest man in the world.' You were, what, eight? You remember that?" 

Amy blushed. "A little. He was nice to me." 

"He was always crazy about you, honey. He never had any kids of his own." 

"He's seventy now? Gee, that's old." 

"Don't say that either," said her father with a small smile. 

She smiled back. "I won't."

Frank looked at his daughter. Her skin was radiant, her long hair flowed over her shoulders and down her back, and he had not missed the appreciative looks from the men in the room - though Amy had. She was totally unconscious of her beauty. 

"Anyway, it'll be good for both of you," he said. "He probably needs some help now -" 

"He'd never admit it," put in Ellie. 

"And he'll love having you around. And for you -" 

"Free room and board," said Amy, nodding. "And a much nicer place to stay than a dorm." 

"Safer, too." Her father smiled. "Geoff may be seventy, but I still wouldn't mess with him without three other guys and a baseball bat. Maybe not even then." 

The women laughed, and Ellie said, "The main thing is, Geoffrey loves you, Amy. He always has. He's family, almost." 

Amy blinked, her eyes magnified behind her convex lenses. "He's not really my uncle? I thought he was." 

"You didn't know?" asked Frank. "Well, I guess not, if nobody ever told you. My dad - your granddad - died when you were three, Amy. Geoff was his best friend. Marine buddies, best men at each other's weddings, went on vacations together. He's my godfather. He babysat me when I was little. You, too."

Amy frowned. "If you're about to tell me he changed my diapers -" 

They both laughed. "Geoff? Not likely," said her father. "I think diapers were the only thing he was ever scared of." 

"Your aunt Tina handled that," said her mother. "Even with your dad." 

"Well, okay then," said Amy with a grin. "I guess it's a go." She brushed back her hair and took another bite of lasagna, then asked, "Does he still live in that wonderful old house? I remember exploring it when I was little."

"It has a pool in the back yard now, but yes." 

"A pool?" said Amy, with a speculative, distant look. 

"Yes," said Ellie, "and no, I'm not giving back that ridiculous string bikini you bought. You'd give poor old Geoffrey a heart attack." 

She giggled and tried to look innocent. It wasn't hard; she was.

--- 

Late August, five months later: 

The Madigans' SUV pulled up in front of the iron gates and stopped. Frank ran the window down and pressed a button, and after a moment, the speaker squawked, "Who goes?" Even so distorted, the voice was a deep bass. 

"Frank, Ellie and Amy." 

"Hey, great! Come on in!" The gates rolled back, and they went up the short drive and pulled up in front of the antebellum house - large, but not a mansion. There was a wide veranda around the entire house, but no pillars in front or cast-iron jockeys. Amy smiled. 

"It's just like I remember, but smaller." 

"No," said her dad. "You're bigger."

A man stood on the porch, grinning, his fists on his hips. His shoulders were wide, his hips narrow, his stomach flat, and his head entirely bald. "Is THAT Uncle Geoff?" asked Amy, amazed. "He looks forty, not seventy!" 

"Fifty, anyway," said her dad. 

"I was worried about having to take care of some decrepit old codger," said Amy. "But-" 

He parents laughed heartily. "Geoffrey is a lot of things, but 'decrepit' isn't one of them," said her mom. 

The family got out of the car, and Geoff came down the stairs and immediately, picked Amy up in a bear hug, and swung her around in a circle, making her hair flare out like a fan for an instant. She felt like a doll in his arms. 

When he set her down, he said with a delighted grin, "Well, hello, punkin! You went and grew up!" 

Amy laughed. "Hello, Uncle Geoff. Sorry it's been so long." 

'My fault," he said shortly, his smile not faltering. "Hello, Frank." He hugged his godson and slapped his back twice, then embraced Amy's mother as well. He held her by the shoulders and looked at her. "Ellie. My God. You look wonderful. Let your hair grow, and people will take you for Amy's sister. She even has your eyes." Ellie's eyes were mismatched too, but the sides were reversed; brown on the right, blue on the left. 

"We get that anyway," said Amy. Her mother blushed. 

"I'll bet you do," said Geoff with a grin. "Here, let me get those bags. Come on in." 

They mounted the steps, with the men carrying the first load of Amy's luggage and boxes. "Back here," said Geoff, leading them down the hall. 

Amy looked around as they moved through the living room, remembering. 

Playing on the bearskin rug in front of the big fireplace while her Aunt Tina sewed; sitting on her lap in the big rocker; playing checkers and Candy Land and Sorry! with Uncle Geoff on the coffee table... 

They were at the end of the hall. "Geoff, this is the master bedroom." 

It was her father speaking. "I know," said Geoff. "Now it's Amy's." 

"But-" 

"I haven't slept in here since Tina passed," he said. "I've redecorated it for Amy, and our bathroom was always more of a girly thing anyway." 

Amy looked around. She remembered this room with green walls; now they were a pale blue. The big brass bed that had belonged to Geoff and Tina had been replaced with a lovely queen-sized canopy. 

The room was enormous, at least eighteen by twenty feet. There were white-painted bookshelves and bureaus around the walls, blue gingham curtains at the windows, a white computer desk under one of them, and a pretty white dresser near the bathroom. 

One corner of the room was set up as a sitting area, with a sofa and two chairs around a table in front of her own fireplace. Amy could see that Geoff had done his best to erase the room that had been here before. 

As her father and uncle put down her boxes and bags and went back to the SUV for more, Amy and her mother went into the bathroom. "Wow," said the teen. "Is all this mine?" 

"That's what he said, honey. I think you owe him a hug." The bathroom was and even paler blue and white, with a huge garden tub, a large, separate shower stall, two sinks, and... 

"What's this?" asked Amy, opening a frosted-glass door. Inside was a small room lined with white tile, with a high shelf-seat on one side and a low one on the other. Small chrome fixtures of some kind protruded from the walls near the ceiling. 

"This is a steam room," said Ellie. "I remember Tina telling me about it." 

"I hope you don't mind if I borrow that now and then," came Geoff's basso voice from the door. "I'm addicted." 

"Whenever you want, Uncle Geoff," said Amy. She skipped over to him and hugged him delightedly. "Thank you so much!" she sang. "I was expecting a room, not a suite!" 

"This whole house is yours, punkin," he rumbled, his eyes warm. They were a steel gray - and though they were soft now, she could imagine how they could look as hard and cold as flint when he gave orders to his troops.

She looked up at his face. It was heavily lined, but still strong and very virile. She could see why she once thought him incredibly good-looking. 

The fact is, she thought, he still is....

It was a matter of a tenth of a second, but Amy saw it: Uncle Geoff's eyes flicked to her mouth, for just an instant. 

?

...she thought. 

No words; just... 

? 

She wondered... 

Well, she wondered nothing; there was nowhere to go. She felt something, though; and though she couldn't name it, whatever it was she felt, it felt good. 

She smiled up at him and hugged him again, and he grinned and said, "Let me show you the kitchen. I THINK everything still works..." 

The four of them laughed and went back down the hall. 

--- 

Geoff - his last name was Rider - insisted on taking the four of them out to dinner before Amy's parents drove back. It was a very nice place - subdued lighting, discreet and efficient waiters, and the Madigans' menus had no prices. 

As the headwater seated them, he said, "Enjoy your dinner, Sergeant-Major - you and your guests." 

Geoff smiled. "Thank you, Gunny. I'm sure we will." As the waiter withdrew, he explained: "One of my troops. Good man." 

"Where are the prices, Geoff?" asked Frank suspiciously. 

"You let me worry about that," he said in a low but good-natured growl, with a nod of emphasis. Frank knew better than to argue.

They dined very well indeed; steaks for the men, seafood for the women. Conversation was warm and casual, old friends reconnecting. 

"So when did you start with the chrome-dome look?" asked Frank. 

Geoff stroked his smooth skull. "A couple of years ago," he said. "Thin was okay. White was okay. But thin AND white -" He shook his head. "This old saddlebag of a face makes me look old enough. Besides, I don't have to carry a comb now." They all laughed at that. 

Amy was watching him. He reminded her of Clint Eastwood, a little; his face was just as worn and craggy, but not as thin. His hands were veined and old, but strong and steady. His smile was frequent and warm. 

She liked him; he made her feel safe and comfortable. And she knew he liked her and cared about her. 

---

For his part, Geoff was trying not to stare at his godson's daughter. He found Amy gorgeous, stunning. With skin like fresh cream, those beautiful, unsettling eyes magnified by her glasses, and that long waterfall of shining brown hair - in all his long life, he had never seen a woman so lovely. 

Hard to believe that the dear, sweet, skinny little girl that he used to hum to sleep on his chest had grown up into - this young beauty, this angel, that was sitting beside him. 

And who lived with him now. 

He smiled. It would be nice to see her and talk to her every day, but there would be no more to it than that. She was his to shelter and protect, and he regarded that trust as sacred - and he loved her like his own. He would cut off his hand before he laid it on her. 

Even her hands are perfect, he thought, watching her eat her grilled salmon.... 

He pulled his attention back to the conversation, laughed at a joke of Ellie's and told one of his own. 

--- 

The Madigans had driven their SUV to the restaurant, and they had decided to leave from there and let Amy ride back to her new home with Geoff. As they parted in the parking lot, with much hugging and backslapping and not a few tears from the girls, Frank murmured to Geoff in a low, serious voice: 

"Take care of her, Sarge. She's all I've got." He had reverted to his childhood nickname for his father's friend. 

"Like my own, Soldier," said the older man, following suit. "With my life." 

The two men hugged once more, and in a few moments Geoff and Amy were waving at their taillights as they drove off toward the highway. 

Geoff smiled at his young charge. "Let's go home, Amy." He put his arm around her and they walked back to the front of the restaurant. 

As they waited for the valet parking attendant to bring his car around, Amy said, "Not quite yet, Uncle Geoff. We need to make a run to the grocery store." 

"We do?" 

"I've seen your kitchen." 

"Oh." He chuckled like distant thunder. "I guess I am heavy on frozen dinners and Pop-Tarts." 

"What do you like for br- Wow! Look at that!" 

Amy's attention was seized by the attendant driving up in a maroon Jaguar E-type coupe; he was sitting on the wrong side. Amy blinked, then realized that it was a British car, with right-hand drive. She admired the sensuous, almost phallic shape of the vintage machine. "I wonder whose car that -" 

The attendant was handing the keys to Geoff, who grinned at her sideways as he tipped him. He opened the tiny left-side door, and Amy, giggling, slid in over the wide sill and plopped into the leather bucket seat. She looked around wide-eyed at the wood and leather interior, and at the gauges placed, oddly, in the middle of the dashboard. Geoff snaked into the driver's seat and grinned at her. "Whaddya think?" he asked. 

"It's amazing," she said. "What year is it? It looks new." 

Geoff laughed. "Thank you," he said. "This car is more than twice as old as you are, Amy. It's a '68." He turned the key, pressed the starter button, and the big 4.2-liter XK engine growled into life. "It's a pain," he said. "Maintenance is a nightmare, mileage is worse, I have to add lead substitute with every tank of gas, and the electrics are cranky as hell - but - well, buckle up." 


Canon Ch. 01



Amy did, and as Geoff turned onto the highway, he floored the accelerator and the car leaped forward like the jungle cat it was named for. "When you put your foot in it, she's still a lady," he finished with a feral grin. 

As Geoff stirred through the gears, Amy felt that same leap at every change. When the car swing into a tight turn at well over 70, she felt it crouch and grab the road as if it had claws, and it knifed through the curve as if it were on tracks. 

"Ooo," Amy breathed. She felt oddly vulnerable and excited, sitting in what would normally be the driver's seat. As she looked over the long hood of the car with its prominent bulge, the stripes on the road seemed to be dots, flicking by in fast-motion. She looked at the speedometer and gasped. They were doing over 130 miles per hour. 

"Too fast?" Geoff took his foot off the gas, and the sleek bullet that was his car slowed to a relatively sedate 80. 

"It didn't feel like we were going that fast," Amy said breathily. "But - wow." 

"I'm sorry, Amy," he said. "The Jag can be a little overwhelming, especially when you're sitting over there." 

"Don't be sorry, Uncle Geoff," she giggled. "It's scary, but it's - exciting." 

He grinned. "Well, in that case -" The car leaped forward again, and Amy gasped again and giggled breathlessly. She felt trembly and warm inside, almost - almost what?

She looked at the old man in the driver's seat, and she knew. Uncle Geoff made her hot. As weird as that was, she felt it. He all but radiated masculinity. It wasn't the car - it was his assurance as he drove it and his air of strength and confidence. 

Geoff was seventy, but that didn't matter at all. This was a MAN.

Amy shivered. This may turn out to be an - interesting - year, she thought. 

--- 

They slid into the parking lot of the grocery store, skidding on all four wheels, and Geoff showed off a little by stopping the car precisely in the painted parking space at the end of the row. 

Amy's cheeks were pink and she was breathing hard. Her remarkable eyes were very wide behind her glasses. "M-my God, Uncle Geoff," she stammered breathlessly. "D-do you aa-always d-drive like th-that?" 

"No,"He laughed. "I couldn't afford the tickets. Sorry, Amy. I don't often get chance to show her off. I hope I didn't scare your pants off." 

Funny he should say it just that way, she thought, but she said, "N-no, I'm okay. That was fun! Scary, but fun!" 

The went into the store and began moving up and down the aisles. To Geoff's surprise, the tiny, long-haired teen whipped a list from her purse, adjusted her glasses, and began to consult it. "What do you like for breakfast?" she asked. "I make a terrific omelet...." 

---

They left almost an hour later, after putting a dozen bags of food in the back of the road rocket. "No zoom-zoom this time, Uncle Geoff," said Amy, smiling. "You'll scramble the eggs." 

He laughed and eased the car onto the highway. "Yes, Ma'am," he said in a good-natured rumble. 

But once on the four-lane, he opened it up anyway. Amy hissed in fright and delight as she shivered in her seat, feeling vulnerable and helpless without a steering wheel in front of her. 

They reached the house in minutes, even though Geoff slowed way down at the corners to make sure the groceries arrived intact. They did. 

After they carried the bags into the big country kitchen, Geoff sat down at the table. He was looking forward to watching Amy put up the groceries as they chatted. 

They were already comfortable together. As she put the boxes and cans and bottles away, Amy told him of the years he'd missed of her life; of sports and lessons and speech competitions and plays - but little of dances and dates and boyfriends. 

"So isn't there some boy back home who's eating his heart out now that you've gone off to school?" asked Geoff with a smile. "Or is he here, too?" 

Amy giggled, a silvery sound. "No, Uncle Geoff," she said, shaking her head. She said no more, so he prodded her a little. 

"Not even a boy you kind of liked?" 

Amy was done with the groceries, so she came over and sat down at the table. She made a face, then looked at her guardian frankly. "No, Uncle Geoff," she said again. "I don't date much. Fact is, I don't date at all." 

He looked the question at her. She shrugged and said, "I don't like boys." 

"You like girls?" His face wore a small smile. 

Amy's hands flew to her mouth and her eyes flew open wide. Then she laughed, a little nervously. "That's not what I meant." 

His smile grew wider. "You knew that, didn't you?" He nodded, once, and she relaxed and tried to explain. "The boys my age - they're - they're so - " Her pretty hands gestured vaguely. 

"So full of themselves, but unsure of themselves, too," he said, his deep voice low and quiet. "They either look at you all googly-eyed, or they start pawing you right away. They grab at your breasts -" his eyes flicked downward - "or they reach for your - pants, or they sit there and don't do anything at all and wait for you to do something. And none of them are especially interested in you - just themselves." He smiled. "Is that about it?" 

The girl was staring at him, her pretty mouth hanging open an inch. She blinked at him from behind her glasses. "How did you know?" she finally asked, her voice soft and wondering. 

"I was a boy once," he said simply. "We're all like that, when we're young." 

Amy looked at his hands for some reason. They were still. Then he lifted a finger, pointing it at her. 

"You're older than they are, Amy," he said, his voice distant thunder. "You know who you are. They don't." 

She cocked her head at him curiously. For an instant he was lost in the curve of her neck, in the smooth, white skin below her ear. 

Then he went on. "You know who you are. You know what you want." 

She shook her head. "I don't know what I want to do -" 

"That's not what I mean, punkin. You decide that later, and it can change many times. What I mean is -" He lifted a hand; the gesture said, it's simple. "You know that other people matter, and you want them to be happy. Look what you did for your mom and dad." 

She looked puzzled. "Most girls would have had a tantrum when they found out they couldn't go to school where they wanted," he said. "Lots of tears, tons of guilt, boo hoo, you don't love me, all that. You? You made your mom and dad feel like it was okay. Like it didn't matter." 

Amy opened her mouth to protest, then closed it, looking at the table. "That's what my friend Kendra did," she said. 

Then she looked up. "But it didn't matter," she said. "Not as much as -" 

She fell silent, looking at him. He smiled. "You see? Not as much as they did. As their feelings did." She nodded, slowly. 

"Yes," she said thoughtfully. "I was disappointed, especially at first. But I know they love me. If they could have done it, they would have. But they couldn't. So -" 

"So be a grownup and accept what has to be," he said, "and do it with a smile on your face, a real one, and with love in your heart." He took her small hand in both of his old, veined ones, gently, and asked, "Amy, do you know how rare that is? How precious that is? You're very special. You've always been special. And different." 

She put her other hand over his. Her magnified eyes looked into his, cool blue and warm brown. "So are you, Uncle Geoff. I never knew anybody else like you. Not even Daddy." 

He patted her hands and broke the contact, then smiled at her. "Amy, we have to stop this 'Uncle Geoff' stuff. Why don't you just call me Geoff? You're a grownup now. And I'm not your uncle anyway." He smiled. "I'm your friend." 

She noted the withdrawal and change of subject, but knew she couldn't speak of it. 

"I'd feel funny about that," she said. 

"Well, you can call me what your dad did. Still does, sometimes." 

"'Sarge'?" She made a wry face. "I like 'Geoff' better," she admitted. 

He grinned. "You'll get used to it, Amy. Your dad did." 

She looked at him fondly. I do love him so, she thought. "Okay, Geoff." 

Then she smiled and nodded. It didn't feel funny at all. 

--- 

The next morning, Geoff woke up in his bunk, as he thought of it, and his first thought was of the lovely girl sleeping in what had once been his bedroom. 

So beautiful, he thought - and reflected that her father was right; she was beautiful, but didn't know it. That's rare, too. 

He thought of how special she was - so unaffected, so kind and sweet - so - 

Pure. That was the word. He smiled. 

Then he smelled coffee. 

He looked at the clock. It was six-thirty. What the hell? 

He sat up on the edge of his hard twin bed, and looked around his small, spartan bedroom. 

There. He picked up his jeans from the steel office chair beside his bed, pulled them on, and padded barefoot to the kitchen. 

Amy was standing at the stove, her hair pulled back in a ponytail that brushed her bottom, which was covered by a pair of red shorts. Not tight, but very short. She wore a threadbare T-shirt, obviously without a bra underneath, and she was barefoot. He could not resist a glance - a glance that lingered perhaps an instant longer than was necessary - at her perfect legs. 

She had not heard him come in, and he watched her for a moment. She was peeling slices of bacon from the package and laying them carefully on a paper towel as a square griddle grew hot. An omelet pan was warming on another burner, the butter melting and fragrant, and he saw a measuring cup filled with beaten eggs nearby, next to a small bowl of grated cheese. 

Then, to his amazement, he saw that the oven light was on, and inside were biscuits just beginning to brown. 

"By the time you graduate, I'm going to weigh five hundred pounds," he said. 

Amy jumped a bit and her head whipped around to look at him, making her ponytail ripple; then she laughed. "Good morning!" she said brightly. "Hungry?" 

"I wasn't till I came in here," he said. "My God, Amy. You're cooking enough to feed a battalion." 

She giggled. "No, just a squad." She deftly poured the eggs into the omelet pan, then pointed without looking. "Coffee's ready." "Um." He walked over and poured a mug - already set out, his favorite - 

How did she know that? 

- and watched her at the stove. Amy carefully placed the bacon on the griddle, and the sizzle and aroma filled the room instantly. She lifted the eggs with a spatula and deftly turned and tilted the pan, and sprinkled the cheese around in it with her lovely fingers. Without missing a beat, she checked the biscuits - not ready yet - flipped the bacon, and shook the omelet pan with a practiced air. 

Through it all, his eyes kept returning to her lovely legs, to the long sweep of pale, flawless skin that ended at the somehow heartbreaking curve of her pink heels. 

Pure - and perfect, he thought. 

She looked back over her shoulder and caught him. She smiled, with a twinkle of - pleasure, he decided - and said, "Sit down, Geoff. It's almost ready." 

He did as ordered, and waited docilely as she folded and browned the omelet, drained the bacon, pulled the steaming biscuits from the oven and then transferred everything to a serving platter. 

She set it before him with an unmistakable air of domestic pride, and waited for her compliments. 

Geoff looked at the enormous plate, and then up at her. "But what are you going to eat?" he asked, deadpan. 

She goggled at him open-mouthed, then burst into a storm of laughter - not giggles, full-throated laughter - in which he joined. She playfully slapped his bare shoulder, and on impulse he grabbed her hand and kissed it. "Thank you, Amy," he said sincerely. "This is -" He shook his head. "This is unbelievable. C'mon, let's eat." 

Butter, jam, jelly, salt, pepper, and two plates with silverware were already set out on the table. Amy served them both before she sat, and he could not help noticing the quiver of her small but perfect breasts beneath the thin T-shirt. He tried not to look - and then he looked anyway. 

She finally took her seat, adjacent to him, and they smiled at each other - and dug in. After an initial "Oh, my God, Amy - this is delicious," and her "Thank you, I'm glad you like it," they spoke little. 

Geoff was really overwhelmed. The biscuits were light and perfectly browned, the omelet light, fluffy and cheesy, the bacon crisp but not hard - the butter had even been set out long enough to warm to room temperature so it would melt into the biscuits in seconds and leave them hot. 

Amy watched Geoff as he ate. It was so hard to believe his age; without his shirt, his baseball biceps, his sculpted chest, and his classic "six-pack" abs we're on display. His skin was a little slack, and his hands and forearms spotted, but his body was one any 20-year-old would kill for. 

She wanted to touch him. 

He looked up at her and smiled - and she wanted to touch him even more. 

As he smiled, Geoff looked at the lovely girl before him and marveled. His smile grew broader. "What?" she said. 

He took the last bite of his perfect omelet, followed by the last bites of his perfect bacon and his perfect biscuit, then sat back and looked at the perfect woman. "What?" she said again, more insistently. 

"Perfect," he said. "It was all perfect, Amy." 

She glowed, and in his mind, he said what he could not say aloud: "Just like you." 

---

That day was a Sunday. As Geoff relaxed at the table with his coffee and the newspaper after breakfast, Amy went to her room to begin putting her things away. On the way there, she stopped in the hall and peeked into Geoff's room. 

She smiled. It was so small and empty - it must remind him of his military days, she thought. 

A single bed with a plain nightstand beside it, with its plain metal-shaded lamp; a gray metal desk with its steel office chair; a few pictures on the walls - his wife, his old unit, the Marine Corps crest, and one of her father and mother and herself, taken when she was about ten. That was all.

The bed was unmade. On impulse, she made it; and knowing Geoff's standards, she made it neat and tight. Then she smiled and went to her room, where she put something together for him. She left it lying on his desk, and then set about emptying her boxes and bags into drawers and closets. 

--- 

Lunch was simple and plain; grilled ham-and-cheese sandwiches with baked beans and pan-fried potatoes with onions. Geoff pronounced it perfect too, and after they sat and talked of the beginning of school, almost a week away. Amy's parents had insisted that she have some time to "settle in" with Geoff before classes began, as well as to register, buy books, and so on. 

"I thought we'd drive over to the campus tomorrow and look around, Amy. Your dad gave me the schedule -" He smoothed out a printed sheet with State College letterhead - "and your registration is Wednesday. Orientation starts a week from tomorrow, and classes on the Wednesday after that." 

Amy nodded. "Sounds like fun. Will we go in the Jag?" 

Geoff smiled. "If you want. Mostly I drive the Toyota, though. Not as sexy, but cheaper to drive and a lot more reliable. The Jag is my fun car." 

Then he lifted an eyebrow. "Or we might take Honey." 

"Honey?" 

He grinned. "Come with me." He led her out to the garage, which she hadn't seen for many years. It was separate from the house, though connected with a covered walk in case of rain; Amy knew that it had been a stable when the house had been built around 1850. 

He opened the side door to the long building, and inside she saw the sleek maroon Jaguar, a plain-Jane beige Camry, an olive-drab Jeep - beloved of every veteran - and beyond it, something else. 

She laughed, delighted. "This is Honey?" 

"Harley Honey," said Geoff. As Amy gazed at the gleaming motorcycle, he spoke proudly: "It's a 1948 Knucklehead. I restored her myself, back in the Sixties. Took me two years." 

"She's beautiful, Geoff." Amy walked around the bike, admiring it, her bare feet pale against the oil-stained concrete. "Why do they call it a Knucklehead?" He came over and pointed. "See the bolts on the cylinder heads?" 

"Oh." She stroked the tank admiringly "I've never seen this color before." 

He smiled. "Candy-apple red. It used to be popular for hotrods and custom cars." 

"I'm surprised you don't have a hotrod, too." He grinned and pointed at the wall. She went over to look, and he joined her. 

"Wow!" said Amy. They were looking a faded picture of a 1932 Ford coupe, complete with chromed engine, fat rear tires, baby moon hubcaps and a dropped front suspension. Geoff - younger, slimmer, and with a full head of curly black hair - leaned on its fender and grinned out at the camera. 

"Sold it when I joined the Corps," he said wistfully. "She was a beauty." 

"She sure was." 

Amy lifted a pretty bare foot; the sole was dark brown. "Hm," she said. "Well, I need a shower anyway." 

"I forgot," said Geoff, chagrined. "I should've told you to put on some shoes when you come out here." 

Then he grinned. "Come over here." Amy approached, and he abruptly picked up the tiny girl and sat her on the workbench, which was scrupulously clean. 

She blinked at him, a little breathless. He had lifted her like a doll, with no apparent effort. "What are you doing?" 

"I'm going to clean your feet. Can't have you tracking oil on the carpet." 

She giggled as he took some waterless hand cleaner from a dispenser and began to rub it into the sole of one pretty foot, her left. 

"That tickles!" she squealed. He laughed and ran a thumb up the centerline of her sole, making her gasp and wriggle; then he began to rub the creamy cleanser in, gently and carefully.

He held her little foot tenderly, admiring it. So lovely, so bare... Such pretty little toes.... 

He realized that he wasn't cleaning her foot so much as caressing it. He looked up, and their eyes met. 

Innocent blue and smoky brown looked into his soul. He looked back, unable to tear his own eyes away from hers. There was nothing in the universe but those astonishing eyes...

His hands were still gently stroking her bare foot. Neither of them seemed to notice. 

Geoff finally reached for a clean rag and wiped the cleaner away; her sole was pink and pristine again. 

Without a word, Amy held out her right foot, and he began again. 

As he stroked her soft sole, he looked up again, almost shyly - and she was looking at him the same way. Her eyes were soft and warm on his, and her cheeks were pink. 

He finished cleaning that one too, and on impulse - an impulse he knew he would be hard pressed to explain - he gently lifted and kissed one lovely foot, and then the other. 

"Thank you, Geoff," she said softly. They smiled at each other, oddly quiet. 

Then Amy sat up and blinked, looking at the floor. Her confused, confusing eyes were comically magnified by her glasses. "How am I going to get out of here without getting them dirty again?" 

Geoff grinned broadly. "Like this," he said - and slid one arm beneath her knees, one behind her back, and picked her up. Amy squeaked in surprise, and her arms automatically went around his neck. 

They looked into each other's eyes, inches apart, and that odd silence took over again for an instant - then Amy leaned her head on his bare chest and sighed. He nuzzled her head with his cheek for a heartbeat, then began carrying her toward the door. 

It was intoxicating for both of them. For Amy, the feeling of being held like a child in his strong arms, her own around his powerful neck, the warm, masculine scent of him, so close - her cheek against his gray-haired, but rock-hard chest - so warm - she shivered with pleasure at being held, so safe, so loved... 

Geoff felt her tremble, and felt a thrill of warmth himself. The weight of her in his arms, her embrace, her bare, lovely legs resting in the crook of one arm, the warmth of her back on his other, her cheek moving subtly against him, the scent of her hair...




Canon Ch. 01



Amy. He was holding Amy in his arms. Even as he carried her, confident in his strength, he felt weak....

They were at the door of the garage. As he turned to put her down, she murmured, "Bet you can't carry me all the way to the house..." 

He looked down - and was lost in her eyes again. Her lovely mouth bore a tiny smile. 

"Watch me," he rumbled, with a small smile of his own. He carried the tiny teen down the walk, and they both knew why; to extend the joy and pleasure of his holding her. 

Something about his eyes, thought Amy, as she snuggled into his chest. So soft and warm and... 

Something... 

Finally, and reluctantly, he set her down on the hardwood floor of the kitchen, inside the back door. Her arms were slow to disengage from his neck - and slid around his waist when they did. She hugged him, and he hugged her back for a moment. Neither wanted to let go. 

Finally, they did; but they still stood close together, and neither moved from the spot. 

Amy looked up at him. Geoff could see that there were words in her mouth that needed to come out. 

"What is it, punkin?" he asked softly. 

"Geoff," she said in a small voice, "Do you really think I'm pretty?" 

He stifled a laugh and said, "No, Amy. I don't." 

Her face was blank, watching his. He smiled gently and said, "I think you're beautiful. Gorgeous. Stunning." He touched her cheek. "I think you're the most beautiful girl - or woman - I've ever seen." 

She turned her head sidewise, suspicious. "That's just because you've known me so long, Geoff." She pointed at her face. "Look at these goofy eyes. How can they be pretty?" 

He laughed and shook his head. "You really don't understand, do you?" 

"Understand what?" 

He smiled. "C'mere." He led her down the hall to the guest bathroom, now his own, and stood her in front of him before the mirror. 

Amy felt very small standing in front of him; her head barely reached his shoulders, which were twice as wide as hers. In the mirror, he loomed behind her like an affectionate mountain. 

"Now watch," he said. He held up a magazine in front of her face, covering the left half. "What do you see?" he asked. 

She looked, trying to figure out what he was driving at. "A blue-eyed girl," she finally said. 

"Pretend you don't know her. What's she like?" 

Amy trusted Geoff, and knew he was trying to show her something. She gazed at the mirror and thought. 

She had never looked at only one side of her face before, and she suddenly saw it. "She looks - innocent," she said. "Naïve, even." 

Geoff nodded, his eyes warm. "Still a child in many ways," he said quietly. "Open, and honest, and trusting. Sweet and kind. You're all of those things, Amy." She looked at him in the mirror, and she saw the love in his eyes. She felt warm inside, like when he was carrying her a few minutes before.

Then he covered the right side of her face. "What do you see?" he asked, just as softly. 

"A brown-eyed girl," she said. 

"What is she like?" 

Amy looked - and after a moment, she gasped, a sharp intake of breath. "She's different!" 

"That's right. How?" 

Amy stared, and spoke slowly. "She's - not innocent. She's not naïve. She - she knows things." 

Geoff was nodding. "She's warm, and passionate, and intense, and a little - mysterious. She knows what she wants, and why she wants it; but she doesn't show everything she knows. She's not a child at all; she's a grown-up woman, and a woman to be taken seriously.

"And you're all of those things too, Amy." 

He took away the magazine. "Look now." 

Amy did, and knew she would never see her own face the same way again - or think about getting contacts. 

"You see it, don't you?" 

She nodded, slowly, both her eyes wide. Then they rose to Geoff's in the mirror. "You see what I do. What other people see -" 

She turned to face him and put her hands on his bare chest. "But they don't understand like you do," she said. "Who else could have ever shown me this?" 

He grinned. "Well, I've known you a long time." 

She laughed and hugged him again, and he held her. Once again, that strange and now almost familiar silence fell upon them, but not between them. He stroked her hair. 

She finally leaned back and looked up at him with an enigmatic smile. "Shower," she said with a twinkle - and then she ran down the hall without looking back. Geoff watched her go, feeling an ache in his heart that he had not felt for a long, long time. 

His arms felt empty now. So strange a feeling. He had all but forgotten it. 

Geoff was an old man, but he was not an old fool. He smiled wryly. He knew exactly what he was feeling. 

She had had a crush on him, long ago, and now he had a crush on her - and the one was just as silly and futile as the other. 

He sighed, vaguely sad, and went back to the newspaper on the kitchen table. 

But a moment later, he heard, "Geoff?" 

He turned and looked up, and there she stood, at the door of the kitchen - barefoot, pink-cheeked, and wrapped modestly in a towel. Her long hair was pinned up, giving her a sweet Victorian look. 

"Can you show me how to work the steam room?" she asked. "I can't find any dials or controls." 

He smiled. "Sure," he said. He followed her down the hall, transfixed by the pale loveliness of her bare shoulders and back as well as her legs. 

He knelt and showed her how to work the simple knob on the tiled wall. "Just turn it on and let the room full with steam. Watch the thermometer, here; there's one outside the door, too. You want it in the green area. Don't let it get too close to the red. If it gets too hot, turn it off; if it gets too cool, turn it back on again. That's all..." 

She was bending over him, nodding, and his eyes dropped to her towel; it had fallen away from her chest, just an inch or so, but enough to afford him an oblique glimpse of her puffy pink nipples. 

He looked away quickly, but every detail was burned into his consciousness. As big as quarters, pale pink, sweetly swollen with youth, and with prominent button tips of a darker pink - and with a delicate blue vein visible beneath the translucent skin of the left one. 

He stood, and so did she. "Thanks, Geoff," she said with an unaffected, innocent smile. "I guess I should have been able to figure it out for myself." 

He smiled back, shaken. "Maybe," he said, "but it's better to be safe. Enjoy your steam, Amy." 

As he walked back down the hall, his mind spinning, he wondered if she had intended to give him that little peek. Probably not, he decided. There was no hint of it in her smile...

As he passed his room, he glanced inside - then did a doubletake and looked again. 

His bed was made. Made well, too. He went in for a closer look. 

Geoff grinned and took a quarter from his nightstand. When he flipped it onto the bed, it bounced. He laughed and turned to go back to the kitchen - and then he saw what lay on his desk. 

It was a framed 8x10 portrait of Amy, smiling out at him. She wore no glasses, and one lovely hand cradled her cheek as if she were thinking. Her shoulders were bare, with only a corner of blue fabric behind her wrist indicating that she wore anything at all. It was innocent and sensuous and beautiful, all at once. 

There was a signature: 

"To Geoff, I love you so very much! Your own Amy" 

The grizzled old soldier wiped his eyes, and was glad that Amy could not see him. He considered a moment, then set the portrait on his nightstand, beside his bed. 

He looked at the quarter that still lay on his wool blanket, and thought of Amy's sweet pink nipples. 

I know what I need, he thought. He headed for the living room. 

--- 

Amy thoroughly enjoyed her steam; leaning naked against the dripping tile wall, sweat pouring from her bare white body, breathing the searing fog and remembering Geoff's strong arms carrying her and his bare chest against her cheek. She breathed deeply, letting the heat bake that memory into indelibility. 

She wondered if he had seen her nipples. Probably not, she decided. Perhaps she had not dared to let her towel fall far enough from her chest. 

She let the heat and moisture take her own heat and moisture away, and she smiled. It was enough just to be here with him. So why had she tried to do that? 

She didn't know. But she smiled anyway. It was okay, somehow. Of that, she was sure. 

--- 

A little later, after finishing her shower and changing into shorts that were just a little tighter and a little skimpier, and a T-shirt that was just a little flimsier and cropped just a little higher, Amy went into the kitchen to prepare dinner. 

And stopped. 

There was music coming from the living room - music that she knew. 

Her mouth open in wonder, she looked around the corner into the big room. She saw Geoff, still shirtless, lying on the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace - and between the speakers of the CD player. Even above the music, she could hear him humming; deep bass tones resonating from his chest. 

Eight notes, repeated over and over; the cello part of Pachelbel's "Canon in D." 

Amy crept quietly to the rug, and carefully sat down crosslegged beside him. She just watched him for a while; the piece was not long, and she didn't want to disturb him before it was finished. 

Finally, the last notes faded, and he opened his eyes. He saw Amy, and his lined old face broke into a warm smile. "Hello, punkin," he said. "How was the steam?" 

"Wonderful," she said. Then, "Geoff, that's my favorite music in the world." 

He smiled, and to her surprise, he said, "I know. It always was." 

"Huh?" 

"When you were little, I used to hold you on my chest and hum along with it while you listened. It always calmed you down, let you relax, even put you to sleep. Then I'd carry you to bed and tuck you in." He smiled. "I used to love that." 

"Geoff," she said, her voice full of wonder, "I still do that. I hum along with the cello part, and it calms me down and makes me feel like everything is all right." 

She smiled. "That's what I did the day Daddy told me I couldn't go to Stanford. And by the time I was finished, everything was all right. And the main thing that made it all right was..." 

Her strange eyes widened as she realized it. "...was that I was going to get to live with you." 

Her eyes were suddenly wet. 

"What is it, punkin?" 

She looked at him through a misty veil. "I've missed you," she quavered, "and I didn't even know it." 

He lifted an arm, and she lay down next to him and snuggled into his side as he curled it around her and held her close. "I've missed you too, Amy," he whispered. "And I didn't know it either till I saw you again." 

They lay quietly for a few moments. Then - as he knew she would - she breathed, "Can I listen again?" 

For answer, he turned slightly, and she moved her upper body over him and rested her head on his chest, her ear pressed to it. It was instantly so familiar, even though she had no conscious memory of it, that she knew it was the same. 

Then: No, not quite the same... 

Amy climbed onto him and rested her whole body on his, and he wrapped both his arms around her and held her close. She snuggled against him, her ear on his broad chest, and he felt her relax. 

Now, it's the same, she thought, and smiled. 

He felt that smile, and smiled himself; then he kissed her head gently, lifted the remote, and started the music again. 

He held her gently, tenderly, stroking her long hair, and he began to hum. 

--- 

Amy felt the eight familiar notes, the foundation of her beloved Canon, resonate through her ear, her head, her whole body. She began to hum too; her hands crept up under his arms, curled onto his shoulders, and she clung to him as the violins began to weave their counterpoint and harmony with the cellos. 

Geoff held her, his cheek brushed by her hair, and hummed. He let the deep tones flow from his heart, from his body into hers. 

He had loved the Canon from his own childhood, and loved it more when he could give it to that precious child that he had held like this, so long ago; and now he knew that it was no longer the Canon that he loved. It was the miracle that he held in his arms, this special treasure, this wonderful, perfect young woman that the child had become. 

He loved Amy. Right or wrong, he did; and he knew to his bones that it was right. 

Amy, too, felt the truth of it; his age didn't matter, nor did hers. The deep and unconditional trust and love between them, their banked and buried desire, was flowing now without restraint. She loved Geoff, not as a father figure, not as an ideal or a memory, but as a man. Right or wrong, she loved him; and she could not have been more sure that it was right. 

They hummed the same notes together over and over, her sweet and wordless voice an octave above his as the music swirled and danced around them and bound them together. 

Without words, without thought, without even consciousness of their separate selves, Geoff and Amy - and the Canon - became one; one thing, one being, one soul. 

As the music wound down to its final notes, they stopped humming and lay together in the echoing silence. Both their bodies and both their hearts still quivered like bowed strings, even as they held each other in stillness. 

Amy opened her eyes and lifted her head, and saw Geoff looking down at her. His eyes were as warm and soft as she knew her own to be, and his smile as peaceful and accepting. She slid upward on his body, and he helped her, drawing her toward him effortlessly. He stroked her cheek with his strong hand, and they gazed into each other's eyes from inches away - and still, they spoke no word. None were needed. 

Their lips met, at last - and their kiss was as right, and as familiar, and as safe and comfortable as home. 

Their mouths opened, and their tongues met too; they touched and probed and slid round each other as if they had been kissing for a thousand years. They were not tentative nor uncertain; they were sure, and comfortable, and secure in their kiss, and in their love. 

They had both come to realize what they felt, and to realize that it was safe, and good, and right, all in the brief time it took for their favorite music to play out to its end.

Amy lifted her lips from his and looked at him - and, with a warm and knowing smile, she touched the firm bulge below his waist. She had felt it against her belly for long minutes without conscious awareness; it was as right and comfortable as their humming. She squeezed it - and his response was to lightly touch the dampness at the crotch of her shorts and trace the unseen crease at her center with a fingertip. She shivered. 

Without words, they both understood. 

No fear. No secrets. No self-consciousness, and no hiding what they felt. Their trust was absolute, their love as solid and secure as the earth beneath them.

They kissed again, and Amy lay on top of him - as snug and comfortable as she had when she was a child - but with a depth of passion that children cannot know. . 

There would be no lovemaking that night, nor the next, not the night after that. Geoff would not rush her, she knew, nor give her anything she wasn't ready for. They would learn each other's bodies at their own pace, and there was no hurry. 

But soon... 

She kissed him again, and again the Canon began to play. This time, their voices did not hum. 

But their hearts and bodies did, as they kissed and touched and moved against each other, slowly and gently. 

Soon... 

(to be continued)



Canon Ch. 02



They decided to send out for pizza; Amy didn't want to leave Geoff's arms to make dinner, and he didn't want her to. He set the Canon to play repeatedly, and they cuddled and kissed on the couch till the buzzer rang from the gate. 

They ate on the couch too, snuggled hip to hip. Geoff's arm stayed around her shoulders, and hers around his waist. It was awkward - till they began to feed each other, laughing. 

They talked quietly. There was much to talk about - but all that could wait. They talked of love, opening their hearts to each other and sharing pepperoni- flavored kisses. 

"You make me feel like I'm sixteen again, sweetheart," said Geoff, his voice deep and warm. "Like a kid on his first date." 

"Third date, at least," she giggled, and lifted his hand to her breast. 

Shocked, then touched, he caressed her gently and let his hand fall back to his lap. "I can't believe this is happening to me at sevent-" 

"Stop," she said firmly. He blinked at her in surprise. "Here's a new regulation for you, Sergeant-Major Rider," she said, smiling sweetly but unmistakably serious. "You are not to mention your age again." 

He looked at her for a long moment. Amy waited, her chin set and determined. He finally smiled, his lined old face softening, and nodded. "Yes, ma'am," he said, and saluted left-handed. 

She kissed him and whispered, "It doesn't matter, Geoffie. It doesn't matter at all." 

Geoffie, he thought. No one else in my life has ever called me Geoffie. 

She can, though. She can. 

"But I can get in the movies cheaper," he said, and they both laughed. They fed each other some more pizza, then Amy spoke. 

"Geoffie, you make me feel like a woman and a little girl all at once," she said. 'Loved and wanted and protected and safe and - and so much more. 

"It doesn't matter that you're older than me," she said, as if the difference in their ages were only a few years. "I like it." 

"You like it?" That beat him. How could this lovely young girl like that he was a decrepit old codger? 

"I know you're a man, Geoff," she said, "not a little boy. I know you're experienced and wise and you know what you're doing." She smiled. "And I know you'll take care of me." he could only look at her, moved to silence - and grateful. 

She tilted her head shyly. "I've never been in love before, Geoffie. I've always hoped I would be someday." She looked at him, her heart on her lovely face. "It's nice." 

"I have been in love, sweetheart," said Geoff, looking at his lap and not at her. "Many times." She watched his old face as he spoke, wondering what he was about to say. 

He looked up at her, and his old gray eyes were wet. "But never like this, Amy. Never like this." 

She moved into his arms, and they embraced - warmth and caring and friendship and passion , seamless. "I thought my life was over," he whispered. "You've given it back to me - and it's better now than it ever was. I love you, Amy." 

"I love you, Geoffie," she whispered back. 

Then, together, they said, "You are my life -" and blinked at each other, surprised, then warmed. 

The pizza was forgotten. Their mouths had other work to do. 

---

Across the hall from Geoff's bedroom, which was the smallest, there was another. It contained an old-fashioned four-poster cannonball bed, with a mattress so high Amy needed Geoff's help to get up onto it. Since Geoff's bed was too small, and Amy's was in the bedroom he had shared with his late wife, they chose to sleep together there. 

Amy surprised and delighted Geoff by coming to bed in an adorable, and very short, babydoll nightie - filmy, but not sheer - with matching bikini panties that made his tough old heart melt. It was short enough to show her sweet bellybutton above her tiny panties, and her long hair, loose and shining, cascaded down her shoulders and veiled her lightly, back and front. 

"Do I look all right?" she asked shyly, posing a little with one leg slightly bent in front of the other. Her cheeks were flushed, and the two sharp little peaks in the blue silk of her nightie that poked through the curtain of her hair revealed that her nipples were tautly erect. 

He smiled, with a lump in his throat that felt like a tennis ball. "Like a sailor's dream," he said, his deep voice soft and raspy with emotion. He slid from the bed and came to her, wearing only his boxers. Amy admired his legs, as muscular and hard as his arms. 

Geoff lifted her in his arms again and carried her to the bed. "I love that so much," she murmured, "when you pick me up like this." 

"So do I," he whispered in her small, pink ear. "I wish I could carry you everywhere." 

She giggled as he placed her in the bed, as gently and carefully as if she were made of porcelain. "They might look at me funny in freshman English," she said with a twinkle. She brushed her hair back and over the pillow, out of the way. 

He chuckled. "Who are you kidding? You placed out of freshman English in your junior year." He grinned at her surprise. "I keep up through your mom and dad," he said. 

He admired the lovely girl in his bed, his gaze lingering on her bare white legs and pretty feet. 

Amy felt his eyes like a caress, and moved her legs languidly, showing them off. She leaned back on the pillows and smiled, and even her innocent blue eye was heavy-lidded and inviting. Her brown eye looked at him smokily, warm and clouded with passion. 

She moved over, giving him room. "Come to bed, Geoff," she breathed. "Come touch me." 

The old soldier, who had faced bullets and bombs and boobytraps without flinching, realized that his old hands were shaking - and not from age. He turned off the light, leaving the room dimly lit from the streetlamps outside, and slid into bed beside her. She came into his arms shyly, yet eagerly, and he cradled her like the precious treasure that she was. 

They kissed, and held each other close, and whispered and sighed and made small contented noises of contentment - and all the time their hands were exploring each other's bodies, at first tentatively, then with more boldness. 

Geoff was stunned and shaken by the feel of Amy's bare legs against his own. Scarcely believing she was really his, he breathed in her light perfume, stroked her smooth thighs, molded her silk-sheathed bottom in his hands, and caressed her sweet young breasts through her nightie. 

Amy's senses were overwhelmed as well. She felt his arms, his chest, his back, his ass, her soft hands pressing hard muscle and trembling at his strength. His warm masculine scent was all around her, and she felt like a toy in his arms. 

She wanted to be his toy, to give him pleasure and make him smile - and moan...

She shivered, and he pulled her closer. 

He combed her hair with his fingers, and she stroked his bald head tenderly, feeling the fine stubble beneath her palms. They looked at each other in wonder in the dim light, and did not speak. 

She cooed at the feel of his hard cock against her belly as she kissed his chest and pressed herself against him - and when he slipped a hand beneath her babydoll to stroke her back, she rolled away and lifted her breasts to his touch. 

Geoff stroked and shaped her sweet, soft young tits reverently, touching her tender nipples gently and tasting her probing tongue as he did. He bent to kiss her throat - and she sighed and lifted her chin for it, eyes dreamily closed, mouth open in passion. He sucked gently at her collarbone as he kneaded her breasts, his hands growing less gentle, more insistent - and Amy shuddered and pulled him close, her small white hands tugging at his back, stroking his head, her knee rising to rub her bare leg against his hip. 

He felt her tension and uncertainty through her passion. "You've never done this before," he breathed, and she shook her head, whimpering. His hand was stroking her smooth, bare belly. "It's all right, Punkin," he whispered. "Don't be afraid. I love you. Let me show you..."

"I'm not afraid, Geoffie," she gasped. "I love you too. Touch me..." 

Trembling, she opened her smooth legs to him, and he stroked her inner thighs, luxuriating in their softness and warmth. He covered her mound with his aged, but gentle, hand, feeling her heat and moisture. 

He squeezed her there; and she hissed and lifted her pussy to him with a curl of her spine, opening herself even farther, her knees rising and separating. 

He pressed his fingers into her pussy through her panties, subtly massaging her hot, humid lips through the thin, wet fabric. She moaned softly and began to roll her hips into his grip. Rhythmically, sensuously, Amy undulated beneath his touch. So sensitive, he thought. So sweet. "Yessss," he whispered. "That's right. Just feel it..." 

He pressed and circled his fingertips at her apex, knowing that the pressure at her hidden clitoris was pushing her ever closer to her first orgasm with a man. She shivered and gasped with passion, and her mouth opened to his kiss eagerly. Her breath was hot and quick, and she whimpered again. In spite of her words, she was a little afraid. Amy had never even been French-kissed before him. 

"Cum for me, Amy," he whispered, his lips touching hers. "Cum in my arms - let it out - I love you so much -" 

She quivered and cried out, an inarticulate moan of sweet pressure and release: "Aaunngh - UUNGH! Ungh, unnngh.... So g... Good..." Geoff smiled and held her tight as she shuddered and jerked in his arms, massaging her sweet wet pussy as she did. 

"That's right, Punkin, let it all out... Cream for me, honey..." 

"Oh, Geoffie -" 

Her lips sought his even before she came down, and they kissed deeply as she quivered against him, still deep in her orgasm. Her hand groped blindly at his boxers, and when she found his stiff organ, she plunged her hand down them and took hold of it bare. 

Now it was Geoff's turn to gasp and moan and cling to her. She rose toward another deep climax as she held and caressed his cock, squeezing and pulling at it in a random rhythm - and to his astonishment and blinding pleasure, he felt his cum rising. So fast, so fast...

He squeezed her pussy-mound and gasped as the express train of his orgasm roared down upon him. Her soft, small hand rubbed and squeezed at his slippery dickhead wildly, clumsily, unpredictably, her innocence and inexperience exciting him as no skilled handjob could have ever done...

Just as Amy cried out and came again, Geoff gave a bass growl and began to spurt in her hand. She cried out again with joy as she came in his arms, gripping and tugging at his bursting knob and feeling his thick white cream squirt from between her busy fingers. 

She left her slippery hand where it was as they came down from the mountain, shivering lightly and nuzzling each other, breathing hard and gasping of their love. 

"Oh, God, juh-Geoffie, that was s-so good..."

"My sweet Amy... I never... I never came so fast..." 

She giggled, even as she tried to catch her breath. "Really?" She squeezed his sticky cock again with her sperm-slick hand, and he groaned and thrust it at her. She licked his cheek and squeezed it again. 

"Unnh... Oh, baby..." he moaned. She giggled and rolled her pussy upward, into his hand. Then she whispered, "Geoffie?" 

He opened his eyes and looked at her - and she squeezed his cock as she slipped her hand from it, gathering as much of his cum as she could, then lifted her hand to her mouth and began to lick and suck his pearly sperm from her palm and fingers. 

He gaped at her as she giggled and ate his cum, and then he laughed and licked his own fingers, wet with her juices. 

They held and kissed each other for a while, and then Geoff said, "Wait a minute," and got up from the bed. 

She lay there alone for a few minutes, sucking her fingers, then smiled as she heard the Canon begin. He had turned it up loud enough that they could hear it in the bedroom. 

He came back with a warm, damp washcloth, and he tenderly and gently cleaned up the sticky residue of their pleasure. Then he slipped back in bed with her and took her in his arms. 

"That was wonderful, Geoffie," she whispered against his chest as the tones of the Canon calmed and soothed her, along with his gentle, stroking hands. 

She looked up at him, and he kissed her. "There will be more," he murmured, and kissed her again. "Much more." 

"I know," she breathed. "From me too." She looked at him with a sleepy, satisfied smirk. "Wait till you see me in my string bikini..." 

"Mmmm. I can't wait." 

"And out of it," she breathed into his ear. 

"Ooo." He kissed her again, and cuddled her as the Canon surrounded them - and soon, she slept sweetly in his arms. 

He watched her lovely face for a time, marveling, thinking. And eventually he slept, too. 

--- 

Around 1:30, Geoff slipped from the bed as quietly as he could and went into the bathroom. He didn't think that he woke Amy, but when he returned, she was smiling at him, her hair spread over her pillow. 

"Sorry, Punkin. I get up two or three times a night. Maybe you'd rather sleep in your own bed, after."

She smiled sleepily and lifted her arms. "Don't be silly," she said, her voice thick. "It just means I get to fall asleep in your arms again." And she did, in minutes. 

Twice more during the night, he got up and then returned to her sweet embrace. He found it no longer annoyed him to get up, and by morning they were calling his trips to the bathroom their "night cuddles." 

He smiled as he drifted off the third time. Her warm young body lay against him, and he held her as she breathed deeply and slowly, her love and trust apparent even as she slept. 

Can a life change so completely in one day - and this near its end? he thought. 

He gazed at her sweet face. 

Sure looks like it...

--- 

They woke in each other's arms. It was only seven o'clock, but Geoff frowned. "Overslept," he rumbled, and sat up.

"Hm?" Amy looked at him sleepily. "What time is it?" 

"Seven," he said. "I've gotten up at six-thirty for years. Used to be five-thirty. Never needed an alarm clock." 

She smiled. "Maybe there's something about your bed that's different now." 

He looked at her - and grinned, then laughed. Amy giggled and slid over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She kissed his hard belly. "Mmmm," she murmured. "Thank you for last night, Geoffie." 

He slid down in the bed and kissed her. "No, thank you," he said. 

"We could argue, or we could do it again," she said with a smirk. 

He laughed again. "We have all day, sweetheart," he said. "How about I take a shower while you make breakfast?" 

She kissed him again. "How about WE take a shower, and then we make breakfast together?" 

He shivered involuntarily. He had not yet seen her naked. "Uh," he said. "Uh. Uh, okay." 

Amy giggled. It was so much fun to surprise him. 

She slid from the bed and stood before him, and took the hem of her shortie in her hands. "Watch me, Geoffie," said the tiny beauty. "I want you to watch me." 

As if she has to tell me to, he thought. "No one else has ever seen you naked," he said softly. "Have they?" She shook her head, her cheeks pink. "No man has," she said. "Not since I was a baby. My doctor is a girl." 

She blushed even more deeply. "I want you to think I'm pretty." she hesitated, then spoke in a breathy rush: "And - and I want you to stare at me and make me feel all embarrassed and scared and - and all bare and little and helpless." Her nipples were hard little points under her nightgown. "Make me undress, Geoffie. Make me show you everything."

He smiled and winked - then looked at her with a stern Sergeant-Major frown. She giggled, and he glared at her so menacingly she shivered. 

He spoke gruffly. "Take that off, Amy. Take it off and throw it away. Right now." 

Trembling, she pulled the nightie over her head and tossed it into the corner, then stood with her arms crossed over her breasts. Her hair fell like a curtain in front of her, covering almost as much as her babydoll had. 

"Pull down those panties," he growled. "Pull them off and throw them away, too. And put your hair behind you." 

The trembling girl did as she was told, and stood naked with her hand over her pussy and her arm across her breasts, looking at the floor. 

"Hands behind your back," he said. "And look at me." 

She looked into his eyes, biting her lip, and let him see. 

Amy was bare before him, from her pretty feet to her disconcerting eyes. Geoff took his time looking her over, being careful not to smile. It wasn't easy. 

Her skin was milky-white and flawless; her breasts were fuller than he had expected, but so firm they stood out in quivering cones, tipped with soft, swollen pink nipples. 

Her belly was almost flat, with an adorable little "innie" navel; her hips flared out in sweet, perfectly proportioned curves. Her pussy was almost hairless, with only a thin veil of fine hair that did nothing to hide her soft, prominent mound and her sweet crease. Her legs were perfect, smooth and shapely. 

"Turn around," he said, "and move your hair so I can see you." 

She did. Her back was one long sweeping curve of perfect pale skin, and her pale, firm, deliciously round bottom made his hands ache to feel it and hold it. Even the backs of her knees were beautiful, her ankles, her heels. 

"Turn around," he said again.

The shivering girl made as if to cover herself again, but stopped and put her hands behind her back obediently. 

He gave her a small smile, at last. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" 

She nodded, slowly. "I've never been so scared and self-conscious in my life, Geoffie," she said in a breathy whisper, "But I love it. I love being completely naked in front of you." She looked at him like an embarrassed child, her heart in her eyes. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

He stood, and pulled off his boxers. She stared wide-eyed at his cock, which was bigger than she had expected - and stood out at full attention, steel-hard. 

"You do," she whispered, staring at it. "You do think I'm pretty."

He approached her, and, once again, he easily picked her up in his arms. "I think you're the most beautiful thing God ever made," he said softly. 

Amy felt his hard-on brushing her bare bottom. She gave a tremulous sigh, leaned her cheek on his chest, and nuzzled it, her arms around his neck and her thighs pressed together. "Thank you, Geoffie," she whispered. "That was so embarrassing..." 

"I love it that you're embarrassed," he said. She looked up, surprised, and he smiled down at her with adoration in his old eyes. "It means you know just how precious the gift is that you're giving me, just letting me see you." 

He kissed her. "I want you to be self-conscious and embarrassed every time you're naked in front of me. I never want you to forget how special and sweet that is, and how beautiful you are." 

She was shivering in his arms. "I promise," she said. "I feel so bare and vulnerable... Like you can do anything you want to me." She looked up at him with those disturbing eyes. "You can," she breathed. 

He grinned down at her and started for her room, carrying her easily. "Right now, all I want to do is cover you all over with soap and scrub you till you're pink," he said. "With my hands." 

She crossed her ankles and giggled as he carried her down the hall and through her room. "And I get to do the same," she said. "I want to make sure your dick is really, really clean..." He felt it twitch as he set her down on the tiled floor of her bathroom. 

---

She washed her long hair first; Geoff was fascinated, watching her bend naked over the sink and apply her shampoo, her conditioner, rinse, repeat, squeeze out the water, comb it out, and finally wrap it expertly in a towel which she wound around her head. 




Canon Ch. 02



"There," said Amy. Her cheeks were pink. "I'm finally ready." She wore nothing but the towel on her hair. 

"You look like an Arabian slave girl, he said, his eyes caressing her nude body. 

She giggled and gave a few belly-dancing moves, shockingly skilled and sensuous for those few seconds. "Oh, God, Amy," Geoff marveled. "You've got to let me see more of that..." He stepped forward to embrace her, but she giggled again and slipped out of his arms teasingly. 

She stepped into the shower and turned on the water, then stepped out again. As she came into his arms, she looked up at him and murmured, "I want to make sure it gets nice and hot..." 

Her eyes twinkled, cool, teasing blue and smoky, promising brown. "I'll show you hot, little girl," he said, and the low thunder of his voice made her tremble. 

Geoff bent over her, and a few moments of kisses and caresses followed - till they felt the warm moisture and looked up. Steam was rising from the extra-large shower space. 

He held the door open for her, and she stepped into it - so sweet and small, and so pale and naked, his cock fairly glowed with heat and stiffness. This, he knew, would be one of the most incredible experiences of his long life. He felt a thrill go up his spine as he stepped in with her and closed the door. 

They were both exquisitely aware of every sensation. The wet, warm tiles beneath their bare feet, the hiss of the spray, the thrumming vibration of the pipes, the humidity on their skin...

They stepped under the steaming spray and embraced each other, thrilled by the feel of each other's wet bodies. Amy's was smooth and slippery, and Geoff's erect cock nudged at her wet belly as he stroked her. 

Amy's hands were gentle as she felt Geoff's wet body. His muscles were hard and taut, but his old skin felt delicate. She squirted some liquid soap into her hand, and began to caress him. "You first," she whispered. 

He stood still and let her lather him with her soft, small hands. He touched her from time to time - stroking her shoulder, brushing a pink nipple with the back of his veined old hand, running it down the smooth, creamy curve of her back. 

She soaped his back, from shoulders to heels - noting the scars. Two, low down on his back above his ass, were small, round and deep; she guessed that they were from bullet wounds. There were others, some straight, some jagged and ugly. 

Geoff stood silently, eyes closed, as her soft hands caressed him. He shivered a bit at the feel of her slick fingers in his asscrack, and smiled and looked back at her when she knelt to wash his legs and feet. 

He noticed the extra tenderness in her touch when she washed his scars., and was moved. When she kissed them, he was moved almost to tears. A soldier's woman, he thought. She knows what I need. 

He turned at a touch, and she began to scrub the front of his body. Once again, she scrubbed gently at his scars - there were many - and kissed them. She traced the long scar across the right side of his belly, and looked up at him with concern. 

He grinned down at her. "Gall bladder," he said. "Getting the others was more exciting." 

She smiled, kissed it, and knelt to wash his legs. She noticed that she avoided his cock for the moment, though it still stood out, twitching-hard. He knew why. 

The naked young girl pointed to the tiled shelf behind him. "Sit," she said, and he did. He was touched again as she gently washed his aged feet with her small hands, kneeling before him, nude and radiant. 

Geoff felt like a sultan, being ministered to by his favorite slave girl. His hands were trembling again; soon it would be his turn. 

But not yet. She looked up at him with a twinkle in her compelling eyes, and whispered, "Now for the fun part..." 

He watched, amazed, as she took his stiff, bare erection in both her soapy hands and began to stroke it, up and down. Her right hand enveloped his swollen knob, and squeezed it with a gentle twisting motion. 

He shuddered with pleasure. The delicious, slick friction of her sweet fingers and palms on his dick was intense, maddening. He moaned, sliding down a bit on the seat, lifting it to her. 

"You like that?" she breathed, her hands working his bare cock, driving him crazy. "I've never done this before..." 

"You're doing it j-just right, honey," he gasped. She giggled, and one hand dropped down to his balls. Amy played with them as much as washed them. She was exploring his body even as she teased and stimulated him, and the innocently fascinated and curious look on her beautiful face, as much as the feel of her inexperienced, soapy hands, was driving him mad. 

She was milking his stiff cock again, slipping her slick hands up and down, squeezing and twisting his swollen, sensitive knob - and then she stopped, rinsed him clean, and without missing a beat, leaned forward and kissed it. 

Then she looked up at him with those disturbing, distracting eyes, opened her lovely mouth, extended her pink little tongue, and began to lick his quivering dickhead. Not tentatively or timidly; she licked it like an ice-cream cone, laving him with her saliva and lapping at it luxuriantly, stopping to kiss it between long, wet licks. 

Geoff stared, his old eyes unbelieving; this beautiful young girl was looking up at him with love in her strange and wonderful eyes and licking his cock, kissing it lovingly - 

And then she opened her mouth wider and slid her sweet lips over his dickhead, looking up at him as she did - and Geoff, to his shock, shuddered and began to cum in her mouth. 

Amy looked up at his face and worked her pretty mouth on him as he grimaced and squinted and spurted, staring at her through slitted eyes and shivering, feeding her squirt after electrifying squirt of his stringy, viscous sperm. It dripped and drooled from her lips, even as she sucked and swallowed. 

Amy closed her eyes in ecstasy and sucked on Geoff's spurting dick lovingly, holding it tenderly in both her small white hands and working her mouth on it as if her whole world was contained in the spongy knob that filled her mouth and fed her its salty syrup. "Mmmm," she murmured, and Geoff shuddered even more and jerked - and Amy opened her eyes, smiled around his cock, and said, "MmmmMMMmmmMMM..." 

And Geoff groaned and kept on spurting, spurting, spurting in her sweet, sucking mouth, spurting more sperm than he had ejaculated in decades. She giggled and swallowed and hummed and swallowed some more, till his cum drooled and hung from her chin in a glistening rope all the way to her thighs.

She finally released him and smiled up at him impishly, licking her cum-dripping lips with obscene relish. "Did you like that, Geoffie?" she asked teasingly. His cum still dangled from her lovely face. She was blushing furiously, but her eyes were alight with pleasure and love. 

"Unh," he grunted, and held out his arms. 

Amy came into them; with Geoff seated on the tile shelf, they were the same height. He kissed her, tasting and feeling his semen in her mouth, moving his hands on her smooth wet back, holding her close. "Oh, God, Amy..." 

He could say no more. She kissed and caressed him for a long few moments as he fought back his tears of joy, and finally she stepped back and lifted her arms, placing her hands on the towel around her head. 

"Your turn, Sergeant-Major," she trilled. She spread her bare feet apart slightly and crouched a little. "Soap me all over," she whispered. "Oh, Geoffie - make me wiggle..." 

He sniffed, wiped his eyes and began. 

For Geoff, it was surreal, dreamlike. He saw Amy, touched her, stroked her perfect skin with his spotted, slippery hands, but his senses were overloaded. How could this be real? 

But at the same time, it felt like it was the first real experience he had ever had. As if he had awakened from a long sleep, to see with his eyes and feel with his hands for the very first time. 

Amy was so lovely, so soft and small and perfect - the way she turned and twisted under his touch, the way she kissed him and moved her nude, slick body against him as he bathed her - the feel of her tight nipples, her soft, springy bottom, her quivering belly, her sweet, tender slit - the way she crouched cooperatively to give him access when he slipped his hand between her soft thighs....

The tough, scarred old soldier had tears running down his cheeks as he gently bathed this beautiful, naked young girl who loved him. They both pretended that the wetness on his craggy old face was from the warm spray of the shower. 

Amy, too, was overwhelmed. No man had ever touched her so before; and she was both excited and moved, thrilled by his aged, but gentle and skillful hands. She could feel his love through his fingers as he stroked and scrubbed her, all over - washing her breasts, squeezing and fondling them under the warm spray, ever so gently, but still insistently - plucking at her hard nipples, rolling them between his fingers, tugging at them, kissing and sucking them adoringly. 

Her back, her legs, her arms, her throat, her soft bare belly - Geoff explored and soaped and caressed every inch of her, every millimeter, and tenderly, and lovingly. She giggled when he played with her slippery toes, and gasped when his boldly scrubbed her sweet pussy. 

Amy was sitting on his lap, her bare, wet bottom moving subtly against his cock, which was, amazingly, erect once again. She leaned her head back on his shoulder and nuzzled his wrinkled cheek - and shyly opened her bare thighs wide. 

Geoff had made love to women before, and many; he knew how to please and satisfy them, with his hands, his tongue, his cock. But he had never wanted so please any woman as he wanted to please Amy.

He kissed her smooth white throat and slipped a finger into her sweet, liquid hole - and squeezed her as she hissed and twisted in his arms. "Oh, Geoffie," she whispered. "That feels so gooood..." 

He had never held a woman so gently, so tenderly, so conscious of her sensations. He had never before been more hungry to please a woman than to please himself. She had satisfied and pleasured his cock already, more than he had ever known, and he had not even fucked her yet; and he knew that he would know more pleasure from her still. 

But the thrill now, for him, was making her squirm and shiver with sexual sensation, and feel his love through the touch of his hands. He felt her pussy as if he were exploring her soul. 

And she responded, quivering and breathless. She shuddered and placed one pretty bare foot on his knee, rolling her pelvis upward and letting her thighs fall back, opening herself up to him completely, shamelessly, eagerly . 

He stroked her deep inside, his fingertip digging into here deepest secret - the spongy ridges of her G-spot - even as his palm pressed and rotated on her swollen clit. The tiny girl gasped and jerked, her hands groping blindly for him. He held her breast and squeezed her nipple, pressed and rubbed her stiff little button, and stirred her hot, wet young hole expertly and without mercy... And Amy cried out and writhed against him, pumping her pelvis hungrily and lifting both her legs to open herself wider. "Oh.... Ggodd... Yyyesss... Ggg..." 

"I love you, Amy... Cum for me... Cum hard, sweet baby..." 

He did his best to make her do it, and she did. He kept her cumming for long, so long, till she was whimpering and shivering and jerking with it, tears leaking from her tight-shut eyes and her pretty toes curled up like tiny fists. 

As he let her down, so gently, from her peak, Geoff slid to the tiled floor and held her in the cradle of his crossed legs. She curled up there and found shelter in his arms, her knees drawn up and her arms folded, and he held her like a frightened child. 

She was not frightened. She pressed herself against him, rubbing her soft cheek against his chest and murmuring in quiet contentment. "So good, Geoffie... So good to me..." She was still shivering, her wet, naked body rippling with tiny aftershocks. Geoff kissed her at her hairline, just beneath the towel that was still wrapped around her hair. 

"I love you, Punkin," he whispered. 

He cradled her under the spray and smiled. He had always been the "strong and silent" type, reluctant to speak those words or show affection openly, even with his wife. 

"I love you," he whispered again. 

This little girl has changed me, he thought. I've never felt this way before. 

"I love you..." 

I could say that all day, he thought. He stroked her back. "I love you, baby." 

"I love you too, Geoffie... So much..." 

--- 

After their shower, Geoff had the pleasure of covering Amy with body lotion - another surreal, and sensual, experience - and then he stood behind her and combed out her hair as she sat naked at her dresser. They looked at each other in the mirror, and Geoff laughed. 

"What?" 

"I was just thinking what my troops would say if they saw me doing this," he said as he moved the comb through her cascade of shining hair. He eyed her pink nipples. "If they could stop staring at you, that is." 

She smiled. "Not famous for your skills as a hairdresser?" 

He laughed heartily, a deep boom of amusement. She giggled. "Might be a whole new career, Geoffie. Can't you see it? 'Coiffures by Mr. Geoffrey.' You can wear a pink shirt, earrings and a beret." 

Geoff had to stop combing. He was laughing too hard. After a moment, he looked at his hand and made a curiously sour face. 

"What's wrong?" 

In a high, flutey, effeminate voice, he said, "Eoh, foo, I broke a nail..." 

They both laughed till their sides hurt. 

When in my life would I have ever done that? he thought. --- 

Breakfast was late. They ate cold cereal on the veranda, Geoff in his jeans again, Amy in nothing but her glasses and one of his T-shirts. 

It was only nine o'clock, but the day was already warm - and humid. It was still high summer in the South, and the air was close and heavy. Amy looked around the yard; there were so many trees, so many shrubs and other foliage, that their privacy was complete. She could not even see the gate from where she sat. 

"Going to be hot today," said Geoff. 

"Mmm-hmm," said Amy, her mouth full of Rice Krispies. She looked at him, her strange eyes magnified by her lenses. She swallowed and said, "Maybe we can try out the pool." 

He smiled at her and nodded. "I had it serviced because I knew you were coming. It's ready." 

"Can I see it?" 

"Absolutely not." They both laughed, and Geoff stood. "It's around back. I don't think you've seen the back yard yet. It's - changed, from when you were little." 

Amy set her bowl on the low table between their chairs and followed him around the veranda. The wide boards of the porch, worn silky-smooth from more than a century of use and scrubbing, were kind to her bare little feet. 

"Oh!" Amy gasped when they rounded the corner. "It's - it's - it's amazing!" 

It was very different from the yard she remembered from her childhood; then, it had ended at a wooden fence not far from the house, with just a small concrete patio and a swing set for her. Now, the yard was huge, well over an acre in extent; enormous, ancient trees shaded green lawns and flowers and shrubbery. "I owned the land back here already," he said. "When Tina got sick, I took out the fence and - made some improvements. She loved it back here, even toward the end." He smiled, sadly. "I've made more changes since. Kept me busy. This is my private world, Amy. Now it's yours, too." 

Amy looked around in wonder. There was a wide, tree-shaded patio with a brick barbecue pit, lounge chairs, and a table; an expanse of closely trimmed grass, suitable for sports or even putting; and at the far side, there was the pool. 

The oblong, irregularly-shaped pool was constructed to look like a natural pond, with a waterfall pouring into it at its farther end and a small sandy beach before them. The rocks, where the small waterfall fell into the clear, sparkling water, looked to be smooth, age-worn granite. 

"It's so beautiful," she breathed. "Is it a real pond?" 

He laughed. "No, it's all fake," he said. "That's not sand at the bottom - it's concrete. So are the rocks. There's a little pump that makes the waterfall go. I turned it on from the house before we came out here." 

She looked at the water. "It makes me want to just dive in naked and - and be Nature Girl."

He grinned again. "That's what it's for, Punkin." 

She giggled and looked around nervously, her hands at the hem of her oversized T-shirt. "It's completely private back here," he said. He felt an electric excitement at what he was about to see. "There's an eight-foot wall behind the trees, just like in the front." 

Amy giggled with delight and whipped off the shirt, dropped her glasses on it, then ran, naked, for the water. Her pale body was almost incandescent in the shade of the trees, then shone like ivory as she entered the sunlight and splashed into the shallows. She launched herself into the water and laughed with delight as she felt its coolness moving on her skin, everywhere. 

Geoff's heart leaped at the sight, and melted at the same time. She was so lovely, so innocent and sensuous all at once... 

He dropped his jeans and joined her. 

They dived and played and splashed each other and swam and kissed, and he reveled in her beauty and her nudity. When she climbed out of the water and stood on the rocks by the waterfall, as bare and perfect as Eve, and looked at him with those enigmatic eyes - he felt his heart skip a beat. 

She has no idea how amazing she is, he thought. 

"I've never been skinny-dipping before, Geoffie," she said, a beatific smile on her face. She shivered delicately. "It's exciting - and kind of embarrassing." 

Then she giggled. "I feel like a naughty little girl," she said. "Running around outside in my birthday suit." 

He looked up at her from the water with his heart in his old eyes. "My favorite outfit, Punkin," he said. "I want to keep you naked all the time. I want to be able to see you like that every time I look at you." 

And fuck you till you cry, he thought. But not quite yet. 

---

They stood in the water beneath the waterfall, and the cool stream bathed them again as they caressed each other, tongues moving languidly in each other's mouths, her breasts against his belly, her belly against his cock. Their hands moved in the water, growing more familiar with the shape and feel of each other's bodies. 

Amy shivered once again at his strength, his steadiness; her lover was old, but that did not matter. He was the man she had not known she dreamed of. He was Geoff, and there were no more like him. 

She giggled as he kissed her throat, bending low over her; and he lifted his head to look at her. "What's funny?" he asked, smiling. 

"Not funny. Just - wonderful," she said. "It's like magic, Geoffie - like a dream." 

He looked the question at her, puzzled. "I always thought finally falling in love would be scary, Geoffie," she said, her strange eyes sparkling. "You know - 'What's he really like? Does he really love me? Do I really know him? Can I trust him?'" 

She hugged him, her arms barely reaching around his waist, her face against his chest, already so familiar. "But I know you, Geoffie. I know you. And - and there's none of that." He felt her shake her head against him. "I'm not afraid at all." 

He stroked her wet hair, then leaned his wrinkled cheek on it. "You're right," he said quietly. "All the thrill of a new love, all the - trust - of an old one." He kissed her hair. "I feel it too. I just didn't think about it." 

"It's wonderful," she whispered. He could barely hear her above the rush of the water. 

He held her close, knowing exactly what he felt. 




Canon Ch. 02



Grateful. 

Thank you, God, he thought. 

I don't deserve this. You and I know that. 

But thank you. 

--- 

He carried her into the house, both of them still naked, stopping only to pick up her glasses. They left his jeans and T-shirt lying on the grass. She looked up at him adoringly through her lenses, innocent blue and smoky brown, and kept on looking as he carried her. 

"What are you looking at?" he asked as he set her down on the kitchen floor. Her eyes were still on his face.

"I love your face," she said, touching it. Then she smiled. "You're the most handsomest man in the world." 

He laughed. "Your mother told me you said that." Then he smiled at her, wryly. "This old roadmap? Pfft. Come on, let's get dressed and have some lunch." 

She wouldn't let it go. "It's rough and manly and - full of character," she said, her expression soft and admiring. Then it took on a sour look. "But I can't see it right without my glasses, close up. Darn it. I wish I didn't have to wear them." 

"I love your glasses," he said. They were walking down the hall toward their bedrooms. 

She stopped and looked at him. "Really? Why?" 

He grinned, trying not to be distracted by the miracle of her nude body. "They're sexy, Punkin. You're not a bit less beautiful when you have them on." Then he grinned even more widely, and a bit wickedly. "Especially when you aren't wearing anything else." 

She slapped his shoulder playfully, laughing, and he added, "They make your beautiful eyes look even bigger. Better than makeup." 

She blinked at him from behind her lenses, and he smiled and said, "Yeah. Like that. Here, look." 

They were standing at the door to his bathroom again, and once again they looked in the mirror together. He smiled at her, his face over hers in the glass. 

Amy knew her glasses were flattering, for glasses, but this she had never thought of. "They do look bigger," she said. 

Then, "But you're not looking at my eyes, Geoffie." 

His eyes were glued to her chest. He looked up, caught, and they both laughed. "Go on, put something on," he said, giving her a light slap on her lovely bottom. "I'll be putting my lunch in my ear." 

--- 

Geoff was making coffee in the kitchen - that, he did know how to do - and reflecting. So strange and magical, the last two days have been, he thought. But there are still things we need to talk about. 

Amy was taking a long time. Drying and brushing her hair, he thought. He had put on another pair of jeans and an old muscle shirt. He was vain about his body, but was aware of it and felt no hint of guilt. He worked hard to keep his aging frame in shape.  

Reminds me, he thought. Haven't worked out in two days. 

Well, not with the weights, anyway... 

"What would you like for lunch?" 

He turned, and his jaw dropped. He stared for a long moment, then said, "You." 

Amy giggled. She had brushed her hair to shining perfection, and put on a touch of lipstick - and the tiniest string bikini Geoff had ever seen. 

He frankly ogled her, his eyes crawling up and down her body hungrily. The bikini was white, and filmy-thin - he suspected it was the kind that was transparent when wet. The "cups" were just narrow triangles of fabric that were not quite wide enough to conceal her nipples, which were stiffly and obviously erect again.

Her bikini bottom was even more outrageous. It, too, was a narrow strip of flimsy white; it did not even cover her prominent pussy mound from side to side, and was so low it revealed a hint of the top of the crease of her vagina. It basically covered her sweet slit like a Band-Aid, and covered nothing else. 

He blinked, and a thrill went down his spine. "You shaved," he said, his mouth suddenly dry. "You shaved your pussy." 

Her sweet face was glowing red. "With this suit, I had to," she said shyly. "Besides, you can go bald - why can't I?" She giggled again. "Wanna see the back?"

He nodded, licking his lips, and she turned around. There was a white string across her back, and another across her hips; her lush, pale ass was completely bare. The bikini bottom was a very small G-string, and she was all but totally naked from behind.  

His hands were trembling again, aching to touch her, and that staunch old trooper, his cock, was rising and preparing for action. 

She faced him again and giggled, her pretty hands moving uncertainly in nervous, sweetly self-conscious gestures of trying to cover herself. "Are you embarrassed?" he asked. 

She nodded, biting her lip. "You should be." He looked at her, his face deceptively serious. "That suit is way beyond indecent, Amy. You're a very naughty girl, wearing that in front of your horny old uncle." She shivered before him and whimpered a little, her strange eyes looking at him with a mixture of embarrassment, teasing, excitement, and fear. 

He suddenly picked her up and carried her into the living room. She squealed with delight, kicking her bare feet happily. In a matter of seconds, she was gasping witn another kind of delight; she lay back on the sofa cushions, her pale, bare legs cocked up and wide open. Her bikini bottom dangled from one ankle as Geoff kissed and nuzzled and explored her newly hairless pussy.

He gently pulled her bare pink lips apart with his fingers, gazing with pleasure at her sweet pink opening. He looked up to see her watching him with her strangely hypnotic eyes - innocent, fearful ice-blue and seductive, knowing deep brown, both magnified; she still wore her glasses. He slowly lowered his mouth to her pussy and licked her tender, quivering, fragrant lips. 

Amy breathed a shaky sigh and rolled her pussy upward, opening her legs even wider. Geoff slid his old hands under her sweet young ass and lifted her naked crotch to his mouth, and began to French-kiss her wet, fever-hot cunnie with tender passion. 

He licked and sucked her tiny lips and probed her tunnel with his tongue, and she pumped her hips at him slowly, moaning softly at the feel of his mouth on her most intimate place. He peeled her open even farther and exposed the tiny, swollen pink nubbin of her tender bare clit, and he licked gently at it; and Amy bit her lip and pulled her knees back to her shoulders with her hands. She grunted softly and shivered at his careful tongue on her sweet button, and she groaned when he began to suck on it. 

"Oh, Geoff... Oh, lick me... Lick me out... Eat my bare pussy..." 

He did. His chin dripped with her juices as he licked and whipped her swollen clit and sucked and slurped at her luscious, twitching hole. He sawed his tongue in and out of her clenching, squeezing opening just below her clit, then held her open even wider and massaged her there without mercy. He ground and twisted the flat of his tongue directly on her bare, exposed clitty-tip. He drilled into it and beneath it and gently pulled at her sweet wet lips with his own, and she shuddered and spasmed and reached down to hold herself wide open for him with both her little hands.

He lifted his head, his old, lined face slack with lust and his chin dripping with her sweet young juices. He looked down at the sweet and lovely virgin who held her pussy open for his mouth, gasping and trembling, her strange eyes shut tight and her knees behind her arms - and he reached up and pulled her bikini bra away. 

She looked down at him then, through slitted, smoking eyes, and gasped, "Yes... Keep me naked..." 

She pressed down on either side of her hot, glistening, swollen red clit and stuck it out at him, bare and exposed and sensitive. "Suck my clittie, Uncle Geoff," she whimpered. "Make your little Amy cum in your mouth..." 

Geoff's dick felt like a concrete bridge piling. He attacked her tender pussy like a starving man. 

The old man ate her mercilessly, and she came, shaking and grunting, all over his wet and eager mouth; and then he only ate her more mercilessly still, sawing his tongue directly on her raw clit immediately after her orgasm and sliding two fingers up her grasping hole. 

She squealed and struggled and pummelled his shoulders with her little fists, but he worked his tongue and fingers in and out of her hole and gave her clit no rest till she gave it up completely, creaming copiously into his mouth with her pale, naked, perfect body rippling and snapping helplessly like a flag in the wind. 

He held her, naked and shivering in his arms, for long, long after; she had never cum so hard or for so long, and it took her much longer to recover. He was still fully dressed, and he felt his shirt wet with her tears and perspiration. 

He rocked her and kissed her hair and smiled. How strange... He had not shot his heavy, hot load in her; it still waited, simmering in his swollen balls. But he felt a deep, fulfilling satisfaction anyway. He knew how hard she had cum, and how deeply it had reached inside her, how he had held her soul in his hands as he tormented her clit in his mouth. 

He knew how badly she needed his cock, and how she knew it would soon be inside her, touching her heart and filling it with his own. He knew how close they had always been, and how much closer they were now - and how much closer they would be when that moment came. 

Geoff noticed that her breathing had slowed, and that she lay in his arms as relaxed and warm and boneless as a pool of water in the sun. Amy was asleep. 

He held her gently, tenderly, his heart so filled with love and warmth and gratitude, he thought it might burst. This miracle he cradled in his arms, the sweet little girl grown into this perfect girl-woman - in the short space of two days, she had changed his life, changed him. 

I was just waiting to die, he thought. Alone. And I had never really lived. 

Not till now. 

He felt tears on his cheeks, and the tough old soldier didn't care. He smiled and held his Amy and let them flow. 

--- 

Amy stirred and woke, but slowly. She fought her way up through layers of sleep as if from the depths of some ocean, and finally opened her eyes. The room spun slowly, then slowly stopped. 

She was naked. She lay in a warm bed - the big four-poster she had shared with Geoff the night before. She saw her glasses on the nightstand. 

Her pussy felt strange; not sore, but full and swollen and sensitive. 

It came back to her slowly. Geoff eating her bare, freshly-shaved pussy, making her cum over and over... 

Amy smiled. He had carried her to bed and tucked her in. She snuggled down in the covers and thought of him dreamily. 

Seventy. He was seventy. How could he be so attractive and manly and hot and make her pussy so juicy and ready and make her love him so? He was fifty-two years older than she... 

Hm. There was precedent, she thought. Sean Connery came to mind. Clint Eastwood. Tony Bennett. John Wayne. All men who remained vital and sexy, well into their seventies. 

She smiled. And I have the sexiest and most vital of them all, she thought. She shivered. 

The thought came unbidden:

Soon he's going to fuck me... 

She drew herself up into a little ball of anticipation and shivered again, feeling her pussy still wet and glowing. 

And I'll be naked, just like I am now, while he slides that big old dick in and out of me till he shoots. Mmmm. 

I'm going to fuck him so sweet.... 

"Are you awake, Punkin?"

She opened her eyes and smiled at him. "Hello, Geoffie," she said. "I love you." 

He stood at the door, still dressed in his jeans and muscle shirt. His weathered old face bore a smile that was somehow young. 

"I love you too, Amy. More than my life." 

She pulled the covers back and posed for him. "I'm yours, Geoff. I'm your toy. I'm your slave girl. I'll do anything you want."

He came to her and lifted her from the bed, then carried her to her room, kissing her twice on the way. She giggled and wriggled naked in his arms. 

He placed her on her bed. "Put something on, slave," he rumbled with a grin. "Or I'm going to be the first man ever to die from terminal blue balls." 

She smiled and lay back on her bed, pulling her knees up and wide open and showing him her wet, red, swollen and hairless pussy. She was as pink and naked as a baby. "So relieve them, Geoffie," she whispered. "Fuck me..." 

He lay down beside her and kissed her, deeply, and slid a finger between her still-hot, still-slippery pussy lips, making her twist and shiver. Then he whispered, "Soon." 

She whimpered as he sat up and then stood. "Come on, Punkin. You have to eat sometime. Me, too." 

She laughed and got up, moving to her bureau. "What time is it, anyway? I'm hungry, too." 

"Almost six." 

"Oh. No wonder." She stepped into a pair of bikini panties and wriggled into a tight, cropped T-shirt. "There. That's all you get," she said. "And after dinner I'm going to dance for you..." Once again, she showed him a few sensuous belly-dancing moves, her bare feet moving on the carpet and her body writhing like a snake's - but only for a few electric seconds. 

Geoff rolled his eyes. "You're going to kill me, girl." She giggled. 

--- Over dinner - a simple tuna casserole, with Cokes and steamed broccoli on the side - they talked, finally, about where they were and what was happening. 

"We can't tell anybody, Amy," said Geoff, his voice deep and soft. "You know that." 

She nodded, sadly. "I know, Geoffie," she said. "But then, no one has to know." 

He smiled. "Especially your parents. Frank would kill me. Ellie would help him hide the body." 

She laughed ruefully. "I know. And it's not fair. Neither of us meant for this to happen. It just did." 

He smiled and lifted an eyebrow. "Neither of us fought it very hard." 

She put her small, white hand on his old, veined one. "How could we? It's so right, Geoff. You know it is." 

He nodded, slowly, and put his other hand over hers. "Yes," he said. 

Then: "But what's going to happen, Amy? This can't go on forever." 

"What does?" 

He let her hands go, stood up, walked to the refrigerator to get another Coke. He spoke without looking at her. "You know what I mean. I mean - I mean, I won't live forever."

"All the more reason to live every day we have," she said. 

She rose and went to him, put her arms around his waist, and leaned her head on his strong, straight back. "Geoff, we have four years. What happens after that - well, let's see what happens then." 

He turned. "But-"

She put her hand on his chest. "Geoff, when you did all that to the back yard, did you know Aunt Tina was dying?" 

He blinked down at her. "Sure," he said. "I knew she didn't have long, but I wanted to make sure the time she had left-"

He stopped. She was smiling up at him and nodding. 

He was lost in her eyes again, cool, hypnotic blue and warm, compelling brown. He shook his head, smiling, then gave a short, deep bark of laughter. 

"You see, don't you?" she asked. 

"Amy, this isn't right," he said. 

She looked stricken. "But you said-" 

"I don't mean us," he added quickly. "I mean this." He shrugged. "I'm the old guy. I'M the one who's supposed to be wise." 

He grinned. "But you're one-fmblthmpth of my age," he said, running his hand over his mouth to garble the word and making her laugh. "And you're much wiser than me." 

He hugged her. "You're right, Amy," he whispered. "I've never been so alive, so happy, so in love in my life. Let's hang on to it as long as we can." 

She hugged him back. "We'll talk about it again when I graduate," she whispered. "Okay?" 

"Okay." 

--- 

They slept together naked that night, but their fires were banked and quiet, smoldering. They held each other and kissed, cuddling, warm and close. Their beloved "Canon in D" played in the background as they rested in the shelter of each other's arms and hearts. 

The time for the flames to rise again was coming, they knew. 

But there was time. All the time in the world.



Canon Ch. 03



Geoff woke up on the third day with a curious sense of completeness. 

Usually he awoke with the feeling that there was something missing - something he had forgotten to do, or needed to do and had not done. Some responsibility unfulfilled, some project uncompleted. There was usually nothing, and he had long since learned that the feeling was just a manifestation of the emptiness of his life. 

But today he felt - complete. That everything was in its place, neatly squared away and properly finished and folded. As a military man, that was a feeling he appreciated. And he knew why he felt it. 

He opened his eyes and looked down at the lovely face of the naked girl sleeping beside him. 

His life had meaning again. He had a reason to live. He smiled, his heart full. 

My world is right here, he thought. And it's perfect. She's perfect. He looked at Amy and marveled. 

The love of my life, he thought. She came late - but she's here. 

He loved her with all his heart, with everything he was and had ever been; and that love was as deep and certain as his love of honor, and valor, and of his country - the lights by which he had always found his way and known who and what he was. 

But today and from now on, Geoff loved Amy; and that was the star he steered by now. 

Then he remembered; there was, indeed, one thing he had not done, and that he very much needed to do. 

He smiled. Perhaps that would happen today - if she was ready. 

She opened her eyes, and as always, he fell into their infinite depths. Cool, innocent blue and warm, promising brown - her sweet dual nature, girl and woman at once, there in her marvelous, mysterious, compelling eyes. His tough old heart melted, as it always did when he looked at her face.

"Good morning, Punkin," he said, his voice a deep, foggy rumble - Geoff's morning voice. 

Amy smiled. "Good morning, Geoffie," she said sleepily. "I felt you watching me." 

They looked at each other for a moment, she with her sweet and smooth young face and he with his lined and craggy old one - but both were wearing the same warm and contented smile. 

Her smile grew wider, and her eyes gleamed. "Wanna fuck?" 

He laughed and hugged her, feeling her soft breasts against his chest. She lifted a leg and rubbed her bare thigh against his hip. He stroked it and kissed her. "I was just thinking about that," he said. 

"Mmmm." She snuggled into his arms contentedly. "Whenever you want me, Geoffie," she whispered. "I'm your warm wet pussy forever." 

He chuckled, warm thunder, and held her close. He kissed her again. "I love you, Punkin," he murmured softly. "Later. Let's wake up and have some breakfast. I need to work out."

She leaned back and looked up at him, her lower lip thrust out in a mock pout. "Okay," she said, "if you're not interested..." 

He laughed. "I didn't say THAT," he said. Then he leaned close and whispered in her small pink ear: "You'll see how interested I am," he breathed. "And you'll feel it, too."

She whispered back: "Today?" 

"Tonight. I promise." He kissed her again, his lips gentle on hers. "I want it to be very special. You'll see." 

Amy felt a subtle thrill of excitement run up her spine and down again, and she shivered. "At the pool? Outside?" 

He blinked, then smiled. "No. That's for later. You'll see," he said again. 

"Come on, get up," he said, rising. "And put on something modest for a change. Don't let me see you till it's time." 

He smiled, kissed her once more, and left the room. She watched his hard, muscular butt as he walked to the door and out, and she shivered again. 

--- 

A short time later, Amy was walking down the hall toward the kitchen, wearing, as instructed, a modest, oversized college sweatshirt - with a bra - and wheat-colored jeans. She had slipped on a pair of sneakers; she knew how Geoff loved her bare feet, and decided to cover them too. Her hair was tied back in a long ponytail.

She heard a small clank, then another, from the other wing of the house. Curious, she walked a few steps down that hall, and stopped beside a door that was only partly closed. 

Her eyes widened in fascination. It was a weight room, a small gym with exercise equipment; a treadmill, a rowing machine, a rack of dumbbells and weights, and a weight bench with an overhead bar and cable. She noticed a boombox in the corner, silent for the moment.

Geoff, wearing gym shorts and nothing else, sat with his back three-quarters toward her, pulling down on the wide-spaced handles of what she would later come to know as a "lat bar." His body was shining with sweat, and she watched the muscles of his scarred back working beneath his skin with an admiring gaze. 

His eyes were closed, and his lips moving; she guessed he was counting. She watched him for a few moments, unable to tear her eyes away from his body. 

She smiled in wonder. Seventy, she thought. 

Not below the neck, no, sir. His face was that of an old man, but the rest of him... 

He stopped, and turned. Seeing her watching him, he smiled, but got up and moved to another bench, where he lay down and took the grips of a barbell in his veined and knotty old hands - old, but strong. He lifted the bar from its rack and began to do bench presses. She marveled at the amount of iron on the bar; no wonder he can pick me up so easily, she thought. That thing weighs more than I do. 

"Do you mind if I watch?" she asked. 

He shook his head, but did not speak; he was puffing in rhythm with his lifts, concentrating on the effort. She went in and sat crosslegged on the floor. 

He stopped, replaced the bar, and rested for a moment; then picked it up and began again. 

After the third set of repetitions, he sat up, breathing deeply but not gasping. His chest and arms were gleaming, and he seemed to glow. "One more," he said, and went to the dumbbell rack. 

Amy saw that he chose a set from near the bottom - 40-pounders. He sat back down on the bench and began to lift them alternately, his biceps swelling as he curled one, then the other, up to his shoulders, over and over. 

She counted with him. Three sets of twelve repetitions each. Finally, he rose, put the weights back, and turned and smiled at her. "So, what do you think?" he said. Grinning. 

He knows exactly how good he looks, she thought. He's proud of his body. And he has a right to be. 

"You're the most handsomest and most sexiest man in the world," she said, from her heart. "I love you, Geoffie." To her astonishment, she saw a hint of color in his lined old cheeks, and he looked down in embarrassment as he rubbed his arms. 

He looked up again as she rose from the floor. "Shower for me now. Alone," he added with a smile as she began to speak. "Go fix breakfast. I'll be out in a few minutes." 

She nodded, then moved toward him. "Don't hug me," he said. "I'm all sweaty." 

She looked up at him with a twinkle. "That's why I want to hug you, Geoffie," she said. "I want to smell you, too." 

He gaped at that, and stood still as she hugged him and inhaled deeply, her nose inches from his armpit. She nuzzled his wet and greasy chest and clung to him for a few seconds. He stroked her hair, tentatively, then bent down and kissed her head. 

She looked up, her chin on his chest. "Thank you, Geoffie. I love how you feel. I love how you smell." 

Then she let him go and giggled. She looked at him, both eyes filled with a teasing promise. "And if you think you're all sweaty now...." 

With a girlish laugh, she disappeared down the hall, leaving him standing there amazed. 

He shook his head in wonder, then headed for his shower. In his bathroom, not hers. 

--- 

Geoff walked into the kitchen, wearing fatigue pants and a well-worn Marine T-shirt. Amy blinked to see his footwear, then realized he was wearing Vietnamese sandals. He took his seat at the table, and she set his coffee before him. 

His scalp was shiny. On impulse, she stroked it as he sipped. It was silky-smooth. 

"Ooo! Fresh shave?" 

He nodded. "Every few days. And for special occasions." He grinned up at her.

"I like it." She kissed his head and went back to the stove. 

"Mmm. Pancakes," he said. "Smells good." 

"These are special," she said without turning as she flipped them expertly. "Pecan pancakes. With link sausages and real maple syrup." 

He shook his head. "You're spoiling me," he chuckled, watching her move. Even in jeans and a sweatshirt, she was incredibly sexy. 

"I want to," she said. "I want to spoil you rotten." She turned and smirked at him. "And I haven't started yet, Geoffie..." 

They ate with relish, and Geoff marveled at her skill in the kitchen. "You're an amazing cook, Amy," he said around a mouthful of crunchy, maple-sweet pancake. "You'll make some guy a wonderful wife someday." 

She put down her fork and looked at him steadily, smiling but somehow solemn. Her eyes - both of them - were warm, but hard as steel. 

"I don't want to be anybody's wife, Geoff," she said, her voice level. "I want to be your cook, your lover, and your naked slave girl forever. I want to feed you every day and fuck you every night. I want to dance for you and hold you and sleep in your arms and cream on your cock and eat your cum and make you happier than you've ever been, every single day of your life. 

"That's what I want," she finished, and returned to her pancakes. 

He stared at her as she ate. When he said nothing, she looked up. 

He was just sitting there, his mouth hanging open. "What?" she said. "Eat your pancakes before they get cold." 

He took another bite. "Talk about an offer you can't refuse," he muttered, and she giggled. 

--- 

Midmorning, the phone rang. Geoff picked it up. 

"Hello?... Oh, hi, Ellie... Yes, everything's fine. Amy's turning me into a fat slob. Just a minute." 

He handed the phone to Amy, who winked at him repeatedly as she spoke. 

"Hi, Mom!... Everything's wonderful! I love my room, and Uncle Geoff loves my cooking. 

"We're getting along fine, Mom. We're very comfortable together.

"He's a dear. I love him to death. 

"Yes, registration is day after tomorrow. We're going over to the campus today so I can get oriented and know where I'm going. 

"I'll let you know as soon as I have my schedule. I haven't got my laptop set up yet...

"I don't know. Just a minute." She covered the phone with her hand. "Geoff, do you have Internet?" 

"In the study," he said, indicating the other wing with his thumb, "and in your room. I'll set you up."

Amy turned back to the phone. "Yes, he does. I'll email as soon as I get online.... Okay. 

"No, I'm good. If I need any more I'll call. I'll be buying books later this week, though, so maybe. 

"Okay. I will. I will... Don't worry, Mom. Everything's fine, I promise. 

"Okay. Tell Daddy I love him. I love you, too. 

"Okay, Mom. 'Bye." 

She hung up and giggled. "How did I do?" 

Geoff grinned. "Butter wouldn't melt in your mouth," he said. 

--- 

Geoff showed her the high-speed connection to the Internet in her room, and helped her get her laptop and printer set up. "Sorry we haven't done that already," he said. 

"We've been busy," she said with an innocent smile. 

He laughed. "That we have, Punkin. Want to run over to the college?" 

"Sure! Can we take the Jag?" 

--- 

They toured the campus, referring to a map that Geoff had obtained the week before. There was some little activity; they saw parents helping their kids carry boxes into the dorms, professors striding busily around with their briefcases and bags, and trucks unloading food at the dining halls. The Administration building was a hub of activity, with people coming and going dressed in everything from three-piece suits and business dresses to jeans and cutoffs. Still, Amy knew the campus would be much more crowded and busy later in the week. 

She took notes, and when she was comfortably sure that she knew how to get to everywhere she needed to go on Wednesday, they turned and headed for home. 

"Did you go to college, Geoff?" Amy asked as they drove back across the campus. 

He shook his head. "No, it was straight into the Corps for me as soon as I was old enough. My folks had a hard time convincing me to finish high school. Glad I did, though. Made it easier to get promoted." 

"Do you ever wish you did?" 

He thought as they waited for a group of boys to pass in front of the car. They were all staring at the Jag, and he smiled at their comical doubletakes when they saw Amy. 

She didn't notice. "I don't think so," he said. "All I ever wanted to be was a Marine." They drove on, leaving the boys staring at the beautiful girl in the beautiful car. 

"Did you see a lot of fighting?" 

It was so long before he answered that she added, "Mom and Dad said you don't talk about it much..." 

He shook his head. "No, I don't." 

After a moment, he smiled at her. Don't want to make her feel bad, he thought. "I saw some things I don't like to remember, sweetheart. I - did - some things I don't like to remember." 

"I can't imagine you doing anything terrible." She looked at him innocently. 

He patted her hand. "I was different then." He was silent for a moment. "War is ugly, Amy. Changes a man." 

"Are you over it?" 

They were stopped again, at a red light. He looked at her. "That's not something you get over, Punkin." He looked forward, over the long hood of the car. "I have ghosts," he said. His face was still, and hard.

She blinked at him, her strange eyes big behind her glasses. "You mean - real ghosts?" 

He shook his head. "No," he said quietly, his deep voice reflective. "I can still see the face of every man I ever killed." He drove in silence for a few heartbeats. "I'll carry that till they put me in the ground." 

She squeezed his hand. "I love you, Geoffie," she said. She could think of nothing else to say. 

He smiled at her, his face soft again. It was, it seemed, enough. 

--- 

They stopped at a hamburger stand for lunch and talked of other things, and soon the mood lightened. 

"So have you decided on a major?" asked the old man, sipping his coffee over the remains of his chiliburger. 

"I've decided on a sergeant-major," she said with a smirk, and he laughed. Her right eye teased and her left eye beckoned, and he looked at her warmly.

"Seriously, Amy. Have you given it any thought? Your folks said you were leaning toward English." 

"I love literature, and I love to write," she said. "But there are lots of jokes about English majors waiting tables. About all you can do with a BA in English is teach, and I don't want to be a teacher." 

"So...?" 

"I'm thinking nursing," she said. "There's a shortage now, the money is good, and I'd always have work..." 

Geoff noted the wary look in her eyes - and then he understood, and raised an eyebrow. 

They looked at each other, and he saw the unspoken plea on her face. He finally smiled and nodded. 

"If that's what you're really committed to doing," he said softly. 

Both her eyes looked into his levelly. "I am," she said. 

They both knew the reasons for Amy's choice. They would never speak of it - not then, nor later. 

"What do you think of the campus?" he asked. 

Before Amy could answer, a third voice spoke. 

"Hey, baby." 

They looked up to see a tall and beefy young man standing over their table. He was obviously an athlete of some kind, probably a football player; broad shoulders and muscular arms, a narrow waist. He was superficially good-looking, with a shock of wavy hair that hung over one eyebrow and an unpleasant smile that was almost a sneer. He thinks he looks like Elvis, thought Amy.

"I'm sorry - were you speaking to me?" she asked sweetly. 

"Why don't you get rid of Gramps here and you and me go somewhere and party?" 

She looked up at the boy curiously, and Geoff saw his mouth drop open. He had noticed her eyes. 

"Do the girls you hit on ever actually respond to that kind of demeaning crap?" she asked, just as sweetly. 

Geoff was surprised yet again. This lovely young woman had a bit of steel in her. The old man watched the exchange, to all appearances relaxed and unconcerned; but his gray eyes glinted like a predator's.  

The young man snickered and said, "You'd be surprised, baby." 

She smiled yet again. "Please go away. I'm not interested." She returned her attention to Geoff. 

The burly boy grinned and said, "I'll bet I can get you interested..." He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers - and an instant afterward, he was falling to his knees and crying out in pain. Geoff had seized his hand, turned it palm up, and bent it backward. 

"Oww! Lemme go!" 

Geoff had not even risen from his seat. There was no trace of rage or anger on his face; he was perfectly calm, and even lifted his coffee cup with his other hand and took a sip before he leaned forward and spoke in a deep, but perfectly level voice. 

"Listen carefully, son. The lady said to go away. Are you going to do that, or do I have to break your wrist and take you out for the season to teach you to be polite?" He bent the young man's wrist a fraction farther. "Say 'No, sir.'"

The boy, grimacing in pain, quavered "N-no, sir." 

"Good." He leaned closer and hissed like a venomous snake: 

"Touch her again... And I'll kill you." 

Geoff's face was an inch from the young man's. He was smiling, but his old eyes were as cold and hard as gray ice. 

Then he leaned back and let him go. "Don't fuck with people you don't know, boy," he added with a good-natured smile. "It's bad for your health." 

The young man stood up, rubbing his wrist, opened his mouth to reply - then thought better of it and fled. 

Several patrons of the diner, who had been watching with interest, gave Geoff a short round of applause. He ignored it and returned his attention to Amy. 

She was not staring open-mouthed. She was smiling, her eyes warm. "Thanks, Geoffie.," she said. "That was pretty cool." 

"The wrist thing?" He waved a hand, it's nothing. "You can do that. I'll teach you." 

"That would be cool, too," she said with a grin. "You can't be with me all the time." 

He looked at her thoughtfully. "You're right," he said quietly. "I'l teach you some other things, too. You may need them someday." 

They both knew the subject had returned to the one that would never be openly discussed. They left it in silence. 

Amy smiled. "Let's go home, Geoffie. Today I want you to teach me-" Her strange eyes glittered, one teasing, one smoldering. "-something else."

He grinned broadly, and they rose from the table. On the way out, the balding, heavy-set manager apologized - and thanked him. "Come by anytime, sir," he said. "Semper Fi." He had noticed Geoff's USMC T-shirt, as the young thug apparently had not. 

Geoff grinned at the man's globe-and-anchor tattoo. "Semper Fi," he said in reply, with a respectful nod. "Gunnery sergeant?" 

"Good guess!" said the man. "You an officer?"

Geoff shook his head. "Nah. Enlisted. Sergeant-major." 

The man blinked, then offered a hand. "That kid didn't know who he was messing with," he said. 

Geoff shook it. "Nice place you've got here," he said. "Good burgers. We'll be back." Amy smiled at the man, and they left. 

--- 

In the car, Geoff glanced at Amy and said, "That young punk didn't bother you at all, did he?" 

She shrugged. "All mouth," she said. "If he was anything more - well, I was with you, Geoffie." 

He smiled. 

When they pulled into the garage, he put on the emergency brake, turned off the engine, and said, "Don't get out." 

"Huh?" 

He smiled, walked around the car, opened her door, and lifted her from her seat. She giggled as he carried her to the house. "What's this about?" she asked, her arms around his powerful neck. 




Canon Ch. 03



"Let me feel like your hero for a minute," he said. "I don't get the chance that often." 

She nuzzled his chest adoringly. "You are my hero, Geoffie," she said. "I love you." 

He kissed her, just in front of her ear, and carried her to the living room. There he sat down on the sofa with her still in his arms. He released her, and she found herself lying across his lap, her face inches from his and her arms still around his neck. 

Without a word, their lips met and opened. Geoff touched the CD remote, and Amy smiled into his mouth as the Canon began to play. 

They held and kissed each other through the afternoon, speaking little but knowing and feeling much. They knew that evening would be special, and they touched and kissed and gazed into each other's eyes quietly, warmly, but without the blazing passion they knew would sweep over them later. Deeply intimate, but easy and comfortable. 

"I can't wait, Geoffie," Amy breathed after one long, soul-stirring kiss. "You know it's my first time..." She shivered in his strong arms. 

He held her close, so close. So precious, so delicate... He knew how careful and gentle he would have to be - and longed to be. "Don't be afraid, Punkin," he whispered. "I-" 

"I'm not," she said quickly. "I'm not, Geoffie. I just don't know what to do." 

He smiled down at her. This time, both her eyes seemed to speak of innocence. "You'll know," he said, in a deep, comforting rumble like approaching thunder.  

She hugged him and trembled, and he rocked her. They both felt the storm coming, and were eager to meet it.

--- 

Dinner was simple and light; grilled cheese sandwiches and cream of tomato soup. They spoke very little, but the looks that passed between them were hotter than the soup. Geoff's old eyes raked her face and body like laser beams, and Amy's flashed passion and trembling shyness and aching love by turns - and sometimes all at once. 

"Give me a few minutes," he said as he rose from the table. He kissed her head, and she squeezed his hand for a moment - then impulsively kissed it, holding it in both her own. 

"What do you want me to wear?" she asked timidly. 

He grinned and winked. "Surprise me," he said. 

She let go of his hand and watched him leave, then cleaned up the table. Her hands shook a little as she placed their plates and bowls and spoons in the dishwasher. 

In spite of what she had said, she was afraid. 

A little. She started down the hall to her bedroom to change. 

The door of their guest room - the room they shared - was closed; she heard Geoff moving around inside, and wondered what he had in store for her. 

Well, besides that, she thought with a shiver of anticipation...

--- 

A few minutes later, she heard his soft knock. She stood. "Come in," she said, trembling. 

When Geoff opened the door, he looked at her and felt the lump in his throat expand. Amy had pinned her long hair up in that sweet, old-fashioned way that he loved, and was wearing a touch of lipstick - and her glasses. 

She had chosen a nightgown to break his heart; ankle-length, in a pale blue that matched her right eye, the innocent one - but the gown was hardly innocent. It was held up by two nylon spaghetti straps at her shoulders and rode low on her sweet, perky breasts, barely above her hard nipples - and it was as transparent as glass. Amy's glorious body was on display as she stood before him, barefoot and shy. She wore no panties. 

"My God," he breathed. "You look like a goddess, Punkin. You're - beautiful." She blushed, predictably, looking down at the carpet, and he - equally predictably - took two steps and picked her up in his arms again. "I'm the luckiest man in the world," he murmured as he carried her down the hall to their bedroom. 

She clung to him, secure in his strong arms. "You're the only man in the world, Geoff," she said softly. He lifted her higher and squeezed her to him, then carried her into the room. 

"Ooo," she breathed, delighted. The room was filled with golden light, from a dozen or more scented candles around the room. She saw the portable stereo from the weight room on the bedside table, and a couple of towels folded over a chair; and then she saw the sheets, gleaming softly in the candlelight, as black as midnight. "Ooo," she said again, "Satin sheets!" 

"Silk," he said, and set her down on the floor, not the bed. She wondered - till he sat down in the room's only chair and touched the "play" button on the boombox. 

"Dance for me," he commanded. "You've been promising. I want to see it." 

A sensual Middle Eastern beat began to thrum from the speakers. The tabla and tamboura provided a ringing, complex and sexual rhythm, and a violin and flute began to weave sinuous melodies around each other. 

Amy's eyes grew wide and bright behind her lenses, and she looked at him with pleasure. "Perfect," she whispered. Her curvy bare hips were already moving to the hypnotic Arabian sound beneath the erotic veil of her sheer gown. 

She danced for him in the candlelight, and he watched. Her disconcerting eyes were on him, strange and magnified, and a knowing, teasing smile was on her lips; she knew how good she was at this, and she showed him. 

Geoff had never seen a woman move like Amy did. Her body writhed and rippled like the candles' flames, like waves on the ocean, like a serpent in the grass. Her sweet cones jiggled, their hard pink tips peaking the transparent gown. Her pale belly quivered and rolled, her sweet round bottom quaked, her lovely legs moved and posed and flexed and opened, graceful and lewd at once. Her perfect arms and expressive hands wove a mystic spell as she waved and twined them in the air, and her eyes - both of them smoking-hot with passion and promise - bored into his as he stared at her.

Geoff's hands twitched. He ached to touch her, and his cock was vibrating-hard in his boxers. As she crouched and pumped her soft, pale pussy at him suggestively, her arms raised and her hands behind her head, he growled, "Stop." 

He rose from the chair, his boxers tented, The tiny, almost-naked girl took a step back and cowered, just a bit, as he approached her in the golden light. 

He did not pick her up. He slipped the strings from her shoulders and let the gown fall into a blue puddle at her feet. 

He resumed his seat. "More," he said, his old eyes burning. "Leave your glasses on." 

Amy stepped out of the gown and began to dance mother-naked. 

The tiny teen blushed furiously and worked even harder to inflame the old man - turning around and bending, bare feet spread wide, to display her pumping pussy from behind; shimmying her shoulders to make her firm young breasts quiver and shake; crouching to hump her bald crotch up at him obscenely, her bare belly working with her pale thighs spread wide. 

She squatted low, leaned back against the wall, and peeled her hairless pussy lips apart to show him her wet, pink, squeezing hole - and he rumbled, "Stop. Get in the bed." 

He watched, enjoying the sight of her bare white legs and ass as she climbed onto the mattress with difficulty; it was almost chest-high for her. Her pale body seemed to glow with its own light against the black sheets, and she marveled at their silken smoothness. 

Geoff rose from his chair at last. She drew back on the bed, a little fearful, and watched him as he changed the CD. He finally turned toward her - and his craggy old face softened. 

"Do you have the faintest idea of how beautiful and sexy you are?" he asked, his deep voice soft, a caress of sound. "You take my breath away, Amy."

She trembled, her cheeks pink and her pussy gushing-wet after her dance. "You wanted me to be embarrassed, didn't you?" she whispered. 

He dropped his boxers and slid into the bed beside her, his cock sticking out stiff and red. "Were you?" he asked. He lay back so his erection was prominently displayed. 

"Yessss...." She stared at it, fascinated. In just a few minutes... 

He removed her glasses at last and placed them on the table beside the bed; then he took her in his arms. She was tense, quivering with heat and nervousness. "Good," he said. "I want you to feel naked and helpless and exposed to me." His voice, as deep and elemental as if it came from deep in the earth, reverberated through her body. She felt frightened and vulnerable and warm and safe and loved, all at once. 

"You're mine, Amy. My woman, my slave girl, my warm wet pussy, like you said - and I want you to know that and remember it." 

"Every minute of my life," she whispered. "I'm yours, Geoff." She kissed his chest. "Forever. You remember that, too." 

For answer, he tilted her head up, put his mouth on hers, and pulled her toward him. 

---

There was no hurry. He stroked and caressed her slowly, inflaming her as she had inflamed him. Men are visual; women are tactile. Geoff knew this. She shivered and gasped as he touched her - her back, her belly, her arms and legs and throat, her breasts, her sweet bare pussy. She writhed and whimpered in his arms, lost in his gentle, intimate, and knowing touch. 

He mouthed her throat, tonguing her tender white skin as if she were made of sugar frosting. He stroked her sides and hips and thighs and squeezed her springy bottom and sucked her earlobes and traced her jawline with his tongue. He squeezed and fondled her breasts and kissed and sucked her nipples and massaged her smooth crotch and teased her sweet, wet slit till she was shuddering with need. 

He kissed and touched her for almost an hour in the candlelight - and in silence, letting his hands and mouth and tongue speak for him. 

And she heard him. They had played before, and given each other pleasure - but nothing like this. She was lost in his love and surrounded and filled by it, feeling nothing but silken sheets and his gentle, skilled and knowing hands and mouth on her bare and sensitive skin. 

He slowly worked his way down her sweet, pale body, kissing her throat, her chest, her sweet swollen nipples, her ribs, her soft bare belly, and finally kissing and nuzzling her smooth, bare mound with his lined and smooth-shaven cheek. He kissed her tender slit, and she spread her bare thighs wide; he licked her there, inhaling her animal fragrance and savoring her tart flavor - and her trembling anticipation. 

He opened her sensitive young hole and licked her, luxuriously, telling her of his love with his tongue on her most intimate secrets, sucking at her soul and digging into her heart. 

But not long enough to let her cum. Amy was whining for release, aching for him, begging him with her body - beautiful legs wide, arms tugging at him, hands groping for him blindly. 

He slid back up her body, and her hand found his steel-hard, dripping cock. She gasped and squeezed it, and pulled it urgently toward her. 

Geoff rolled over and lifted her bare legs with his arms, hooking her knees over his elbows. She was wide open for him, her gleaming, swollen, and eager pussy was turned up at the perfect angle. 

He moved up a trifle, and she felt his hot, hard cock pressing against her warm, wet lips. Amy hissed and rolled her hips upward, rubbing her pussy against him hungrily. "Please..." she breathed, her hands pulling at his hips, his shoulders. 

"Shhhh," he whispered, rocking his own hips against her. His dick slid up and down, wetly, slick against her syrupy hole. He held her close, pressing himself against her, and her mouth opened to his. 

They embraced and kissed for long minutes, their arms locked around each other and his erection pressed against her pussy. He finally felt her relax, though she was still quivering with need for him - and he knew it was time. 

He lifted himself from her chest, and she looked up at him. He reached out to the bedside table and pressed a button - and as their beloved Canon began to play, he replaced her glasses. 

"Guide me in," he whispered. 

As the basses began to lay the slow, eight-note foundation of the piece, she took his swollen, leaking organ in her hand and guided him to her tender, flaring lips - and his swelling cock slowly entered her wet, sweet pussy, opening her up for the very first time. 

Amy closed her eyes in ecstasy, and he whispered, "No. Look at me. I want to see your eyes."

From her pillow, Amy looked up to see his face, clearly - and she realized that that was why he had put her glasses back on. As the cellos and violas took up the theme in low harmonies, she felt him sliding deeper and deeper inside her - and she saw the pleasure that she herself felt, reflected in his rugged old face; his mouth was open, his eyes slitted, and something that looked like pain, but wasn't, distorted his features. 

She rolled herself farther upward, opening herself to him, knowing that her own face looked the same. As she felt his bare, stiff dick opening her tender, untouched pussy tube, she whimpered and worked her ass to draw him in deeper. 

Her face was so lovely, so hot and prettily twisted with aching need and fulfillment... Geoff held back the urge to thrust his cock brutally all the way into Amy's velvety, fever-hot, and oh-so-snug vagina as she worked her hips up at him. 

The violins began to weave the counterpoint, and just as their sweet strains filled the air around them, their minds and souls were filled with the feel of her delicate membranes opening around his sliding, sensitive dickhead. He gazed into her amazing eyes as he penetrated her pussy - and her heart. 

She was so beautiful, so young, so tender - both her eyes sang to him of her ecstasy, her devotion, and her growing love, as the music grew and sang to them both. 

His old, soft eyes spoke to her as well - and of the same precious things. She knew what love was, now. He was filling her, and she adored it, and him. 

"Fuck me, Geoff," she said, her voice tiny, high and sweet, like a fearful but trusting child's.

There are miracles, he thought, his heart bursting as he moved inside her, lovingly and deep. There are. And this is one. 

He began to slide his hard old cock in and out of her, smoothly, slowly - and Amy learned why they called it "making love."

The music grew more complex and beautiful, too intricate and lovely to follow all at once - and so did the sensations they felt and shared. Geoff was sliding in and out of Amy now, slow and gentle still, but soul-deep and intense; she rolled her hips up at him subtly, in rhythm with his thrusts, and watched his eyes in the candlelight as he felt her respond to him. They wandered over her face, incredulously. 

He can't believe he's fucking me, she realized - and she whispered to him softly, making him believe: "You're fucking me, Geoffie - you're fucking me, and I love it, I love it, I love it so much, and I love you... I love you... Oh, I love you..." 

She pulled her knees back and pumped her pussy on his sliding cock. "You're fucking your Amy, Uncle Geoff... You're fucking me so gooood...." 

Geoff saw her eyes fill, her tears magnified by her lenses - and he felt his own falling to her lovely breasts. "I love you, Amy... Punkin... You're my life... God, I love you..." 

Their words, as sweet as they were, were not enough. None would ever be. 

The music rose and swirled around them, and he lay on her and took her in his arms and held her close as he began to pump her harder. She humped back with an urgency of her own, hugging him to her bare body, kissing his ear, gasping and tugging at him to pull him closer. 

Faster, deeper, more passionately still, her legs wrapped around his flexing, thrusting ass, his arms around her shoulders and her waist, they fucked with everything they had, everything they were; clinging to each other with a deep and consuming need that he had never known and that she had never dreamed of. 

They struggled to grow closer, and somehow did; they moved together, more and more in tune and rhythm, lost in the music and their hunger for each other. He kissed her neck and shoulders; she held his balls in her soft hand, and their bodies slapped together wetly as they fucked harder, more intensely, his cock plunging and pushing, her pussy grasping and milking him, both of them working to pull each other to the summit as the music surrounded them in the golden light. They fucked intensely, desperately, thrusting and grasping and pumping and squeezing, their connection so slick and hot and vivid and strong, they were lost in it and in each other. 

As their passion rose higher, the violins soared around them and drew them higher still; no deep humming now, but endless, circling flight toward the Sun. As the music crescendoed, so did their intense and fiery pleasure - and as it rose toward its dramatic climax, they joined with it and with each other in their own. 

They came together, shuddering and clinging as the orchestra swirled around them; he thrust his cock inside her deep and held it there, his very soul shooting out inside his sweet Amy's precious, perfect body. Her hot, wet, lovingly squeezing pussy tube gripped and rippled on him and drew it from him hungrily, gratefully, sucking on his gushing manhood like a second mouth and working to mix his soul with hers. She shook and shuddered and hugged him tightly with her sweet, smooth arms and legs, creaming helplessly all over his driving, spurting cock, shattered and shaking with incandescent bursts of pure ecstasy at the sudden slickness of her pussy as her strong and noble Geoff flooded it with his jetting, geysering cum. She worked to make him give her more, and more, and he did, and she came in waves beneath him as her sweet young hole was filled to dripping overflow by his thick and spurting liquid seed. 

It would not end. He held her tightly and blasted her with more and more of his boiling sperm, torn out of him by the roots, by her beauty and her youth and her passion. She felt it running down between her asscheeks and shuddered in delight. She was his now, completely, and he knew that too; and they were both so grateful, no words could ever tell of it. 

They wept and came and felt that it would never, ever end, and knew that there was nothing greater in this life or the next than what they held in that moment - each other's hearts and souls. 

They kept moving together, slowing gradually, gently, after the music stopped; clinging to each other, reluctant to come down from the burning heights to which they had taken each other. 

Soon they lay still in each other's arms, warm, united, unsure where one began and the other ended, and not caring. 

They were one. One being, one love, one heart. Complete, at last. They were one. 

--- 

After:

They stood together in the shower, soaping each other in the warm spray, touching, stroking and embracing and enjoying the feel of the slippery suds between their naked bodies. They spoke not at all, making quiet sounds of affection and contentment, but without words: 

"Mmmm..." 

"Oh..."

An intake of breath, a sigh, a hiss of pleasure. They touched and kissed and stroked each other in near-silence. 

They rinsed each other and then embraced; the scarred old man and the flawless young girl, clinging to each other beneath the falling water as if in a storm. 

Their storm had passed, and left a quiet certainty in its wake. They dried each other and walked back to the living room, warm and damp and still naked. They would return to their bed when it was cool, and dry. 

Amy lay across Geoff's lap - her favorite and most comfortable place to be, warm and safe in his arms - and they kissed quietly and snuggled, still without speaking. There was no need; there were no words. 

It was long before they spoke. 

"Thank you, Geoff," she whispered. 

He looked down at her, and she looked up at him. She was wearing her glasses, though she wore nothing else; she knew they were dear to him. 




Canon Ch. 03



And she saw. 

She touched the tears that were sliding silently down his rough old cheeks, and she brought them to her lips. 

And then she rose a little and kissed his lips as he leaned down for it - and then she kissed his tears, tasting salt on her pretty tongue. 

Amy knew that this man did not cry easily. "What is it, Geoffie?" she asked, as softly as a prayer. 

He looked down at the perfect white body that lay across his own, opened his mouth, closed it, and lifted a hand helplessly. She snuggled against him and waited. 

Finally, he wiped his eyes and said, "You're thanking me, Punkin. That's... That's just..." He stopped. 

He tried again. "You gave yourself to me tonight, sweetheart. You gave me the most precious thing you had. And you're... thanking me...?" 

She kissed his wet face again. "Who could love me more, Geoff?" she asked softly, and kissed him again. "Who would that have meant more to?" And again, and again, small, fairy kisses to take away his tears. 

He looked at her, his eyes still full. "No one," he finally said. 

"You know what we felt." She kissed him again. "Could either of us have felt that-" Again. "-with anyone else?" And again, with a questioning look. 

He shook his head, and then he finally smiled. She smiled, too, and kissed him yet again. 

"Thank you, Geoff," she said once more. "What you gave me counts, too. I was so sure - I wasn't afraid - and, oh, Geoffie, it was so, so wonderful...." 

She snuggled deep into his arms again, drawing her nude body up into his lap adoringly. "I love you so much." She kissed his chest and rested her smooth cheek against him, and her eyes closed in contentment. "I love you," she whispered, so softly it was little more than a breath. 

He cradled her and rocked her like a child. "I love you too, Amy," he whispered sadly. "I wish I could live forever."

Without opening her eyes or looking up, she said, "Now IS forever, Geoffie. Now is the only time we have, ever." She kissed his chest again. "I'm glad I'm here, now. I don't want to be anywhere else - or wearing anything else." She looked up then, with a twinkle, and blinked at him behind her glasses, the only thing she wore. 

He smiled and stroked her back. "My favorite outfit," he said. 

Then: "You're right again, Punkin, and about the same thing. When did you get so smart?" 

She giggled, glad he was back with her, in the present. "Well, I'm not just an incredibly pretty face and an incredibly sexy body, you know," she teased. 

He laughed. "You think you're kidding, Punkin, but that's exactly what you are. And more," he added quickly at her look. "And more. But - you are absolutely the most beautiful girl - or woman - I've ever seen. 

"And I'm an old guy. I've seen a lot of women and girls," he finished, with a twinkle of his own. 

She looked up at him adoringly. "I want to be beautiful for you, Geoff," she breathed. "I want to be so beautiful, and so sexy, and so naked..." She blushed. "...and so wet and juicy and nasty and open and hot, you'll want to fuck me all the time." 

One side of his mouth rose in a wry, cockeyed smile. "Mission accomplished," he said, and she giggled. 

---

They snuggled and kissed happily for a while, then Geoff said, "How about a moonlight swim?"

They ran naked out the back door and jumped into the pool; Amy squealed at the coolness of the water, and Geoff smiled at her delight. The lights beneath the surface illuminated her and made her pale, nude body look as white as snow. 

They stood in the shallows - shoulder-deep for Amy - and just looked at each other, holding hands in the wavering blue light from beneath them. The cool water on their bodies seemed to wash their few remaining shreds of doubt and fear away. 

Geoff looked into Amy's eyes; one shone with the light from the pool, and one was dark; but they were the same somehow, this time. 

He looked into her eyes, and what he saw there was love. Unconditional, complete, and as deep as space. It was not the adoration and hero worship of a child. It was the love of a grown woman, and one who was wise far beyond her years. He wondered at it - but he saw it, and could not turn away. 

He did not want to. There was nothing to be afr- 

He realized something then, in that wavering blue light: He trusted her, just as she trusted him. 

As he had never trusted anyone before...

And then the floodgates opened, and he realized much more. 

"Come," he said, opening his arms; and she came into them, easily, eagerly. 

He held her in the cool water and whispered to her, speaking as he had spoken to no other woman, not even his wife. He spoke as the thoughts entered his mind, letting them out as he thought them. He had never done that before, either. He wouldn't look at her; he held her close, his eyes on the silent, distant Moon. 

He told Amy of his many hurts, of the times he had been betrayed and wounded, and of the armor he had learned to wear around his heart, of the walls he'd built and the fortress he had retreated into. 

He held her close and told her - of how alone he had been in that fortress, how cold he had been, how empty; and of how he had pulled so far inside himself, he had not even known it. 

"When I heard you were going to come to live with me, Amy - I just thought it would be nice to have some company, someone to talk to and take care of." 

He rocked her a little, swaying in the water. "I knew you from when you were a baby, and I've always loved you. I knew you didn't want anything from me, and that you liked me." 

He stroked her wet hair as she clung to him and listened. "I just thought it would be nice to have a friend again, at the end of my life," he said. "I've been a hermit since your Aunt Tina died - and I guess a long time before that. I've held people at arm's length for - well, all my life, I guess. I never-" 

He hesitated, and Amy squeezed him in encouragement. "I never even let Tina in, Amy. I was distant and - disconnected. We were married, and it was good - but I had no idea how much better it could be." 

He looked at her at last, his old eyes glowing in the liquid light. "I've kept everyone out, Punkin. But I couldn't keep you out, could I?" 

She smiled up at him, but said nothing. She sensed he wasn't finished. 

"You are a miracle, Punkin," he went on. "I was just - waiting to die. And you come along and - and I'm sixteen again, and innocent, and trusting, and so in love - in love like I've never been, and life is wonderful and sweet and worth living. 

"My walls, my armor - pfft. They crumbled when you walked into my house, and when you crawled up on me when I hummed to you - like when you were a little girl - they vanished. It was too late. You were already inside.

"I love you, Amy. I've never said that often, and I've never meant it more."

His old gray eyes were full, but no tears fell. He wiped them and went on. 

"I never prayed for miracles. Hell, I never prayed at all. But if I had - I could never have prayed for this. I could never tell you in a million years what you mean to me, Amy. But I'll spend the rest of my life trying to show you." 

She hugged him, her small hands on his scarred back. "You just did tell me, Geoff." She rubbed her soft cheek on his graying chest. "I love you, too." 

They kissed - not the longest, but perhaps the sweetest they had shared - and they looked at the Moon together. 

---

They swam and relaxed and enjoyed the water for another half hour or so, till they were chilled; then they ran shivering back to the big old house, where Geoff lovingly dried her and carried her back to bed. They snuggled close again, still naked, but they knew better than to try to top that night's lovemaking so soon. They held each other in warm silence and listened to their Canon, which held more meaning now than it had before. 

Around midnight, he saw her sweet eyes growing heavy. "Come listen, honey," he said quietly. "Let me hum you to sleep again. We have all day tomorrow to play." 

"Mmm," she murmured contentedly, then climbed on top of him and curled up in his arms, her head on his chest. He started the Canon again, and hummed along with the basses till he sensed her relaxing, more and more, till she was soft and limp and breathing slowly. 

He held her as she slept, bare and trusting as a baby. Her nude body was resting comfortably on top of his own, curled up like a sleeping cat. 

When she was breathing deeply, he gently moved her from his chest and laid her beside him. She stirred but did not wake; and he watched her sweet face as she smiled in her sleep and drew herself against him, safe in the circle of his arms. 

Geoff fell asleep watching her, and his last thought before dozing off was - Tomorrow; we have all day tomorrow...



Canon Ch. 04



Geoff awoke on the fourth day to find Amy on top of him, warm and naked, kissing his neck passionately and feeling his chest with her small hands as if she'd never touched a man before. She was astride him, moving her hips against him, grinding the velvety stubble of her pussy against his already stiff cock. Her mouth worked on his neck and shoulder as if she were drowning and he was oxygen, her body writhing and working against him desperately, hungrily. 

Damn. Zero to sixty in two seconds, he thought. Dead asleep to wide awake instantly. His hands automatically stroked her bare, flexing back and moved down to her hips, where he found she was kneeling on him, her knees splayed open wide and her crotch snug and wet against his own. He felt her smooth, bare, restless legs and caressed her bare little feet as she worked her sweet pussy against his bone and groped at him blindly. She made small, urgent sounds of voracious, desperate need as she crawled and wriggled on top of him, sounds that seemed to come from deep within her bare young body. 

Her passion shocked him. He felt her hands roaming and pulling at him as if searching for something, her lips tugging at the wattles beneath his chin, her tongue playing with them, her breasts brushing and rubbing and dragging over his chest, her taut nipples tracing burning paths across his aging skin, her hips grinding lewdly as she wriggled and hunched on top of him. 

Geoff pulled her to him and kissed her, hard, brutally, aroused to full stiffness and blazing hunger. Their tongues wrestled, fiercely, aggressively, not sweetly and gently as before. Amy responded just as violently, fighting him, fighting to get closer, to hold onto him, possess him, to make him her own and claim him as her lover, her master, her man. 

Geoff felt her small hand searching, finding, grasping, pulling him, fitting his hard cock to her dripping-wet opening and pushing the head between her quivering lips. 

Before he had been awake for two full minutes, Geoff was fucking a beautiful, naked young girl whom he loved, and who loved him, both of them with all their hearts and souls. As his dick slid deep inside her, he lifted his head and her tongue was instantly inside his mouth again. She was fucking him hungrily, desperately, sliding her grasping, slippery pussy tube up and down on his steel-hard dick and humping him, whimpering with need. 

He wrapped his arms around her and just held on for the ride - and she rode him hard, working her hips, bouncing on him, brushing his bristly chest with her nipples and gasping between deep, sloppy kisses. She pulled at him randomly, clinging to him and gasping. 

Then, to Geoff's surprise, she leaned back, set her feet flat on the bed on either side of his hips, and squatted on him with his cock buried in her belly - and then Amy began to belly dance on his dick. 

She looked down at him, her eyes slitted and her face distorted with passion and pleasure even as she smiled at him lasciviously - and she gave him a lewd sexual show as she milked his erection with her pussy. 

She had changed in an instant from desperate fucking-slut to lewd, cock-teasing showoff, from out of control to controlling him. Geoff could only watch and try to hold back his boiling cum as this naked young beauty, her long hair flying, humped and bumped and undulated her hips, shook her perfect tits, worked and flexed her bare young belly, and stuck out her naked crotch to show him her hairless, gleaming pussy with his cock stretching it wide. She smiled at him teasingly and squeezed his dick with her pussy muscles as she slid her glistening, exposed lips up and down on his bare, swollen hard-on, making him shudder and pump back at her. 

She fuck-danced for him with her hands behind her head, writhing like a snake; she rotated her hips, round and round, stirring her pussy deep and massaging his bone with her hot, wet fucking hole. He knew she had been a virgin the night before - but today she was fucking him better than any whore he had ever had. He was shocked almost to orgasm by her undisguised lust and lewdness. 

Geoff began to wonder if he were dreaming, even as Amy's juicy, audibly and obscenely squelching pussy and the rising tide of his cum told him he was not. 

She began to bounce on him, making her bare breasts bobble fetchingly and his cock plunge in and out - then she leaned forward, braced her hands on his chest, and started to lever her ass up and down rapidly, slapping her wet crotch against him and frankly jacking him off with her slippery, squeezy hole. She lifted her pussy till only his dickhead was between her lips, then slammed it down again to impale herself all the way down to his balls - three times a second, squeezing and milking him the whole time.

He looked up to see her watching him eagerly with a teasing, but passionate smile as she worked her grasping, bouncing pussy on his cock. He shuddered, unbelieving, and felt himself quickly sliding toward the brink, toward the point of no return, as his naked and beautiful young lover worked her heart out to pull his cum from his aging balls. 

"Shoot in me, Geoffie," she whispered urgently as she fucked him faster and faster - the first words she had spoken. "Shoot your big sloppy wad in my pussy... Shoot me full... I want to feel your big dick shooting inside me..." 

For answer - he did, grimacing and jerking as he unloaded deep in her grasping, squeezing hole. She squealed with delight - and vibrated on him; there was no other word for it. Her whole naked body rippled and fluttered on him, shaking rapidly as if she were having some kind of convulsion - but when he opened his eyes, he saw her watching him avidly. 

She was doing it deliberately, and that knowledge drove him even farther over the edge. It felt as if something broke inside him, and he began to shoot again, harder, more intensely. Her shuddering body and her girlish, delighted giggle as he moaned and shot more and more jets of boiling cum into her maddening, fluttering hole drove him close to insanity, and he stared at her desperately as she laughed and shook herself and delightedly made him shoot harder and harder and harder yet. 

She finally stopped and fell on him, still laughing as he tried to catch his breath. 

"Jesus H. Christ on a crutch," he gasped. "What got into you?"

She giggled. "Your cum did," she squealed happily, and hugged him, quivering with delight. 

He held her, his mind reeling. It had not been like the night before - warmly intimate and deeply emotional, a joining of their two souls. Their second fuck had been raw, sudden animal lust, lewd and white-hot and electrifyingly intense - but somehow still an expression of their soul-deep love and trust. 

Then it hit him. Amy had not orgasmed. 

"Baby, you didn't cum yet," he said into her hair. 

She rose on her hands and looked at him with the smile of a child on Christmas morning; both of her amazing eyes twinkled with delight. "I didn't want to, Geoffie," she trilled. "I wanted to make YOU cum - really hard, and really hot. I wanted to drive you crazy and - and send you to the Moon!"

He stared at her, speechless. She giggled. "Say 'Mission accomplished,' Geoff."

"Uh - mission - uh - accomplished, sweetheart. You just - you just wanted to make me shoot?" 

The tiny beauty smiled at him happily. "Isn't that what naked slave girls do?" 

He stared at her. "Beats me," he finally said. "I never had one before." 

She hugged him, moving her shoulders subtly, stroking his chest with her soft breasts. "Well, you have one now," she murmured. "I'm not going to put on a stitch from now till we get up tomorrow, Geoffie. I'm going to go totally bare-pussy naked for you, all day long..." 

Then she added, in an intimate whisper, "...and baaarefooted, Geoffie..."

He chuckled and hugged her back. "You know about me and your feet, huh?" he asked. 

"Could hardly miss it," she murmured. "I'll be showing you my open pussy, and you'll still glance down at my feet. And I remember how you cleaned them in the garage. That was so sweet..." 

"I'm a sucker for pretty feet," he admitted. "And you have the prettiest feet I've ever seen." 

"They're yours, Geoffie," she breathed. "You can do anything you want with them. Just like the rest of me." 

He held her, feeling incredibly lucky - and happy. His softening cock was still inside her sloppy pussy. Their lips met then, their kiss long and wet and intimate. 

"I want you to make me cum now, Geoffie - in the steam room. I want you to make me sweat and wiggle naked in front of you. I want you to tease me and make me feel embarrassed and nasty and bad." 

Don't have to ask me twice, he thought...

She giggled as his cock popped out of her pussy when he got up, and she looked up at him shyly as she clapped her little hand over her bald hole as if in modesty. "Carry me to the steam room, Geoffie," she said, looking up at him strangely with her strange eyes. 

He carried her to her bathroom, and she kept her hand tightly clasped over her vagina the whole way. "Are you hiding it from me?" he asked curiously. 

"Mmm-hmm," she said, nodding, looking up at him like a guilty little girl. "I'm so modest..." 

He smiled at that, a little puzzled. He set her down on the tiles, and she covered herself with both hands and blushed prettily. "Ooo, Geoffie, I'm so bare..." 

He turned on the steam, then went to Amy and embraced her. They kissed for long minutes as the steam room filled with hot vapor, but she did not hug him back; she continued to conceal her sweet young vagina, shivering in his arms. 

Finally, the thermometer was nearing the red zone. "Come on," said Amy, still hiding her pussy. "Make me sweat now. Make me cum in front of you." 

They entered the room quickly and shut the door; it was thick with the wet vapor, and the heat was intense and penetrating. In seconds, their bodies were slick and shiny with perspiration. 

Amy climbed up on the high shelf and squatted, nodding for Geoff to sit on the low one, which he did, a little mystified. She giggled and blushed bright red for some reason. "I'm going to show you something now, Geoffie... Are you ready?" 

He doesn't have a clue, she thought, and shivered as the sweat ran from her naked body. This is going to be fun...

When he nodded, she leaned back against the tiled wall, stuck out her crotch, and took her hands away - and a river of cum slowly oozed from her gaping, red and swollen pussy and hung down obscenely between her lovely bare feet. 

As the rope of thick semen lengthened and another began to emerge, she squatted lower and began to visibly squeeze it out - and to bump and hump her bare young crotch at him, making the strings of his cum swing and dangle lewdly. 

Geoff goggled and gaped at her filthy display, and she simpered and cooed as his cock suddenly began to stir and lengthen. "Ooo, Geoffie - this is so embarrassing," she whimpered in her best little-girl voice. She wriggled and writhed sensuously, wearing nothing but glistening sweat and his cum, drooling from her swollen, red, gaping fucking-hole. 

She suddenly reached down and caught his cum up in her hands, one, then the other, then brought the pearly blobs to her face - and, her eyes on his, did not so much eat his cum as smear it all over her open mouth and cheeks and extended tongue. She caught handful after handful of his drooling cum and covered her lovely, sweating face with it. 

She smiled at him with his sperm dripping all over her lovely face. "Do I look pretty like this, Geoffie?" she asked sweetly.

He blinked in shock, but somehow remembered what she wanted. He leaned back against the wall and frankly sneered at her. 

"You look like a nasty little slut, Amy," he growled, stroking his cock lazily. "Aren't you ashamed? Naked and dripping with sloppy sperm. Sweaty little whore..."

She shivered and bit her lip, her cheeks reddening. "Oh, Geoffie... Don't say that..." But her pretty toes were curling in excitement and her nipples hardening in spite of the heat. 

"You're showing off your sloppy fuckhole with cum all over your face, buck naked," he went on brutally. "And you aren't going to put on a damned thing till tomorrow! What a nasty little hole you are! What a cheap little piece of tail! You fucked me like a Saigon hooker and showed off your cummy hole!" He slapped her wet pussy with the backs of his fingers. 

Amy shivered with delight and slid down the wall - and, to Geoff's renewed shock, took her ankles in her hands and pulled her bare little feet back to her face. Her bare, swollen, gaping hole flared open in Geoff's face, and her tiny pink asshole squeezed and flexed beneath it as his cum, still drooling from her pussy, dripped slowly over it. He stroked her bare buttocks with both his trembling hands, and he looked at her dear face framed between her pretty feet. 

"I'm so ashamed," she whispered - and she began to clean his cum from her cheeks and chin with her bare pink toes and suck it from them. 

"Oh, my God," he whispered. She whimpered and wiggled her toes beside her eyes. "I'm your nasty toy, Geoffie," she whispered. "Play with me." 

He slid two fingers into her brazenly displayed pussy, and she wriggled with delight. He began to massage her swollen clit, and she bit her lip and rolled her crotch up at him, whimpering. "Play with me," she breathed again. 

He made her shiver as he played with her tender, cum-sloppy pussy, finally grasping that she really was his toy, his slave, his property. He looked at her in wonder - so perfect, so lovely, stark naked and glistening with sweat and cum. He grinned and released her pussy, only to tug and twist at her sweet swollen nipples. 

He took first one pretty bare foot from her hand, then the other, kissing them, licking his own cum from her tiny toes, nuzzling them with his lined, bristly old cheek. 

He rubbed his face in her wide-open crotch, rasping her tender skin with his morning beard and making her squeak and shudder. He brushed her bare, sensitive clit with his chin, knowing how intensely that stimulated her, and then he bent and sucked on it and whipped it with his tongue. 

Amy humped her pussy up at him convulsively, grimacing at the suction and the rasp of his skilled tongue on her bare, defenseless nubbin. He dug his tongue into her squeezing tube as far as it would go, and stirred her depths with it. He stroked her widespread thighs and fondled her slick and quivering breasts, squeezed her soft sweaty bottom and tickled her clenching asshole. 

Geoff played with her, enjoying his perfect, naked young plaything, and she loved it. He felt her tensing, rising toward her long-delayed climax - and he realized that his astonished old cock was stiff and hard again. 

He positioned himself carefully beneath her, as just as Amy slid over the edge, shuddering and crying out, he pulled her ass over the edge of the tiled shelf and guided her fall - directly onto the concrete post of his swelling dick. 

Amy cried out in panic as she fell, cumming - and cried out again in surprise and ecstasy as she fell onto Geoff's hard cock, impaled completely in one shocking instant. 

It sent her already intense orgasm into sexual overload. The naked, sweating girl jerked and writhed uncontrollably as she felt her Geoff's rigid organ slam all the way into her belly, and her pussy muscles contracted on it powerfully - and it erupted inside her just as powerfully, as Geoff blasted her with a thick and stringy load for a second time in less than half an hour. 

The naked lovers, slick with the sweat pouring from their bodies, embraced and shuddered together in another soul-shattering simultaneous orgasm. Her lovely, glistening pale legs were wrapped around his waist, her arms around his scarred old back, and she clutched him for dear life with both as she imploded on his geysering bone; he held her to him with his strong arms and spurted deep inside her, thrusting deeper as his sperm was torn from him by the cock-milking grip of her spasming hole. 

Their mouths sought each other blindly, and their tongues met and caressed each other as they peaked. Amy was helpless in the grip of her super-climax, and Geoff's mind was gone entirely - he was nothing but a spurting, squirting cock, encased and held tight by his sweet Amy's darling pussy. 

They shook and shivered for more than a minute, clinging to each other's hot, wet bodies desperately - but it seemed at once to last for an eyeblink, and an hour. They were outside time, inside each other, and lost in the flames of their passion and cradled in the intimacy and infinite trust of their love. 

They returned to time and space slowly, shaken to their roots. They blinked dizzily and looked at each other and laughed unsteadily; her long hair was plastered to both of them, entangling them in a net of their own making. 

"Wow," they said together, and laughed again. 

Geoff held her, kissing her gently and stroking her wet, oily skin. She clung to him, quivering, out of breath, tasting salt as she kissed his chest. His cock was still clasped by her tingling, quaking pussy tube. 

"I guess that's what they call 'steamy sex," she said shakily. They laughed, but softly. 

"Wore me out, Punkin," gasped Geoff. "I guess I'm too -" 

He stopped, knowing what her reaction would be; but she giggled tiredly. "Age has nothing to do with it, Geoffie," she puffed. "I'm one-fmblthmth of your age-" Running her hand over her mouth to garble the word, as he had- "and I'm worn out too." He laughed, and so did she. 

They looked at each other, so filled with love and so deeply satisfied, there was nothing else to say. 

They rested, still connected, for a while as the room cooled and cleared. Finally, Amy got her feet beneath her and whispered "Watch, Geoffie..." 

And as she rose from his lap, once again a thick stream of his cum flowed from her bare, gleaming hole. "I love that," she whispered, as he stared. "I just love that so much. I love taking it, I love having it in me, and I love showing it off to you while I squeeze it out."

He looked up at her sweet, sweaty face and smiled. "My baby girl and my nasty, shameless whore," he said, his face soft and adoring. "I love you, Punkin. I love everything you do. I even love the way you sleep." 

He reached out and caught a dollop of his cum that drooled from her crotch and offered it to her. She sucked it from his hand, her strange eyes on his - innocent blue and smoky brown, ice and fire. 

They looked at each other, knowing: No limits. There was nothing they could not ask, nothing they would not do for each other. 

"Sleep," she said then, wiping a stray drop of cum from her chin and licking it from her finger. "What a wonderful idea." 

He smiled and nodded. "Let's wash the sweat and cum off," he said. "Then we can have a little nap before breakfast," he finished with a tired grin. 

They laughed, but wearily. It had been a very full morning. 

---

Their shower was intimate and sweet, gentle and comforting. After, they walked together back to their bed - Amy knew better than to ask him to carry her - where they snuggled and slept in each other's arms.

--- 

They slept till noon, and woke refreshed - and a little stunned. 

"God, that was amazing, Geoffie," said Amy, her cheeks glowing pink. 

The old man looked at the pretty girl in his arms and nodded, his own face a bit bemused. "You started it," he said with a wry smile. 

She giggled. "I wanted to - I wanted to be a good slave girl and drive you a little crazy." She hugged him and murmured, "I wanted to show you how much I love you, Geoff. I told you I'd do anything for you, and I meant it." She looked up at him again. "Anything..." 

He smiled down at her, cocking his head a little with a skeptical expression on his worn old face. "Are you sure you know what you're getting into, with that, Punkin? I have lots of fantasies... And some of them might be - difficult - for you."




Canon Ch. 04



She shivered and blushed even redder. "If it makes you shoot, Geoffie, I'll do it. I promise. No matter what. I'm your naked slave girl. I really am. I'm your human sex toy. I'll do anything." Her right eye was frightened but devoted, her left eager and adoring. 

He grinned, and his eyebrows rose - and she felt her pussy growing wet just seeing the speculative look in his eyes. "We'll see, Punkin," he finally said. Then he looked at her frankly. 

"Amy," he said softly, "this sex toy, slave girl thing - that's like the Jag. It's going to be there for fun, and I love it. But what you really are..." 

She watched his face. "...is the love of my life. You are my heart. You're why I'm breathing and walking around. Don't forget that, Punkin - even when I tie you up and fuck you till you cry." 

She giggled, touched and thrilled. "I love you too, Geoffie. With all my heart." She smirked. "And when you tie me up I'm going to struggle and cry and beg you to stop and love every second of it."

He grinned. "Deal. Let's go find something to eat." 

Her tummy rumbled again, right on cue, and they both laughed. "Guess we'd better," she giggled, and they got out of bed. 

Geoff pulled on a pair of cutoffs and a T-shirt; Amy watched, but she only put on her glasses and made no move to go to her room. He looked at her, and she smiled. "I told you I was going to go naked for you all day," she said. 

He looked down. "And barefoot," he said, and she giggled and wiggled her toes at him. 

"And barefoot," she smirked. Then she put her hand over her bare pussy and her arm across her breasts, and squeezed her thighs together with a childlike shiver of embarrassment. He grinned. 

"Are you pretending, because you know I like that?" 

She shook her head quickly. "No, Geoffie," she said in her little-girl voice. "It's kind of scary. I'm not used to going naked, and I'm not going to put any clothes on all day... And - and I don't know what you're going to make me do." She swallowed, and he saw that her nervousness was real. 

"Okay," he said. "Then your first orders are..." 

She watched him, wide-eyed and biting her lip. 

"...don't cover yourself, and stand up straight. Stick your chest out, Amy. Show it off." He smiled as she did so, blushing. "You should be proud of those pretty tits. They're perfect." 

He pointed. "Walk in front of me." Amy led the way into the kitchen, where she stood with her hands behind her back and waited for further orders. "Well?" he said. "Lunch, Punkin. Make us some lunch." 

"Oh... Yeah..." She shook her head as if to clear it and went to the refrigerator. 

Geoff sat at the table and watched with enjoyment as his naked beauty set about preparing sandwiches and heating up some barbecue-flavored beans. He admired her every curve and movement, every pale inch of her sweetly exposed skin. "You look good, honey," he said quietly. "You look like an angel." 

She smiled back at him and blew him a kiss - then, on impulse, bent over, crouched, and pulled her pretty asscheeks apart, showing him her still-red pussy and her pink asshole. "You sure don't act like one, though," he added, and she giggled and winked at him from between her legs. 

His naked waitress served him his lunch, then moved to join him, sitting in the chair beside him - but he stopped her, shaking his head. She looked at him curiously. 

"Sit facing me, and don't put your legs together," he said. "I want to see all of you."

She turned her chair to face him, then sat down - and leaned back, braced her heels on the seat, and let her legs splay open wide. Her cheeks were pink. "Is this OK?" she asked. Everything she had was on display, milky-white and bare - but her pussy was still shockingly swollen and fiery-red. 

His eyes widened as he chewed, and he nodded. "That'll do," he said, staring at her inflamed pussy. 

After a few bites of his sandwich, he said, "Okay, that's enough for now. You can sit like you usually do." 

Amy didn't move. "Don't you like this?" she asked, taking a sip from her Coke. 

"Sure. But I just bit my thumb." 

Amy almost choked with laughter, and Geoff grinned at her. She finally put her feet back on the floor and slid her chair up to the table, still laughing. 

--- 

After lunch, they went to the back yard for a swim. "I love seeing you go naked outdoors, pretty girl," said Geoff, watching her walk to the faux "beach." 

She turned and smiled at him shyly. "I love doing it," she said. "It feels so scary and naughty." Then she giggled. "Watch this, Geoffie." she said. 

As Geoff stared in astonishment, the lovely nude teen ran to the manicured putting green and did a series of cartwheels and backflips, frolicking naked on the grass and laughing with sensuous delight. "Look at me, Geoffie!" she squealed. "This is so fun! I don't have ANYTHING on!" 

He sat on the bench and watched her play, marveling at her innocence and sensuality, her beauty and grace, at the wonder and the miracle of the fact that she loved him. 

She finally ran whooping for the water, and did a cannonball into the deep end by the waterfall. Geoff laughed and joined her, doing a creditable cannonball himself. 

They came up laughing, and proceeded to get into a splash-fight that left them both breathless. Then they relaxed against the fake rocks by the waterfall and talked for a while. Amy's long hair drifted on the water, and Geoff's bald head gleamed in the sunshine. 

"This is so much fun, Geoffie," she laughed. "I always wanted to be able to run around outside without any clothes on. And now I can." 

He grinned at her. "And I always wanted to have a pretty girl who would do that in front of me," he said. "And now I have one. My own little nudie cutie..."

She squealed with pleasure and splashed over to him go hug him. "Geoffie, it's so perfect! How could this be any better?" 

He smiled at her, but didn't say what he thought: 

I could be eighteen, too... 

And that reminded him. 

"Say, what was this about, this morning?" he asked, flipping the loose skin under his chin with a finger and smiling at her curiously. "I could swear I felt you playing with my turkey neck." 

Amy giggled. "I was," she said. 

He grinned at her skeptically. "Don't tell me you think it's sexy," he said. 

She smiled. "Geoff, do you remember saying you love everything about me?" He nodded. "Well, I love everything about you too. And that's part of you. So I love it." 

She snuggled up to him, lifted herself higher by his shoulders, and nipped at his wattles gently as he laughed and protested. "Ow! Now stop that!" 

"That's my Geoffie's turkey neck," she said happily. "So yes, it's sexy." She kissed him there again, and his arms went around her - and he lowered his chin and kissed her on the mouth. 

"I can't believe you're mine, Amy. You surprise me and amaze me a hundred times a day." 

Her bare legs wrapped themselves around his waist below the water, and her arms did the same around his neck. She came in close for her kiss, her pretty mouth open, and he obliged her. 

"I love you, Geoff," she whispered when their lips parted. "I want to amaze you. I want to make you laugh and smile and moan sometimes and just - just be crazy about me like I am about you." She kissed him again, her tongue teasing his. 

Then she leaned back and smirked at him. "But you know what I like best?" 

"Tell me."

"I like shocking you." She suddenly let go of him and dived beneath the water, and a half-second later, he felt her mouth on his cock. 

"Damn," he said softly. Girl..." He shook his head, grinning, and pulled her up by her shoulders. She came up sputtering and laughing. 

"What happened to your dick?" she laughed. "It's teeny!" 

"Cold water does that," he said with an indulgent smile. "Didn't you know?" 

She shook her head, both her eyes wide and innocent. He laughed and took her in his arms, small and wet and naked, and spun her around in the water. 

She remembered the bear hug he gave her when she first arrived - was that just three days ago? 

She kissed him, then climbed out of the water and up onto the faux rocks above the waterfall. As Geoff watched in renewed astonishment, she posed lewdly for him there, showing off everything she had to show, from her pretty hands to her pretty toes. She turned and twisted and bent, doing backbends and splits, squatting, kissing her toes, licking her lips with obscene pleasure, teasing him and tormenting him cruelly, outrageously. 

Amy was unconscious of her beauty; but she knew exactly how her nudity and shamelessness affected Geoff, and she worked it hard, doing her best to drive him mad. She soon combined posing with dancing for him, and his mouth fell open in wonder as his eyes narrowed with lust. 

He finally left the water himself; and Amy, who was in the midst of doing the Chinese splits while shyly biting a pretty pinky finger, stared at him, her strange eyes widening. Geoff's dick was fully, bouncingly erect. 

"I guess the water got warmer," she breathed, staring at it as he approached her. 

"You made it boil," he said. To her surprise, he walked past her and took a seat on the rocks below and behind her. 

She climbed down, and saw that he was sitting with his feet in the grass and leaning back comfortably against the smooth rock. 

She knew what he wanted - and realized he had picked the spot to spare her knees. She could kneel in the grass, and not on the rocks, while she sucked him off. 

Amy knelt between his legs and looked up at him - one eye shy and uncertain, the other burning and eager. That was just how she felt. 

Though Geoff had cum in her mouth once already, Amy had never done this before. She took his stiff bone in her small white hand, and he felt it tremble. "You'll know what to do, Punkin," he whispered reassuringly. "It'll be all right." 

She nodded and began to pump his foreskin up and down, watching his face and licking her lips. She realized her mouth was watering. 

As Geoff watched and she looked back at him, wishing she had her glasses on, she began to kiss and lick his swollen cock tenderly. Her pretty pink tongue slid around and around on his dickhead and slid wetly up and down beneath its tip, and Amy savored the salty-sweet flavor of his leaking pre-cum. 

She explored his organ with her mouth, nibbling and kissing up and down the shaft, top, bottom and sides. She kissed and licked his balls, even taking them into her mouth and rolling them gently with her tongue. She massaged and stroked his ass and belly and thighs as she washed his genitals with her mouth, wetting every millimeter of his cock and balls with her busy tongue. 

The moment finally came when the lovely, long-haired teen took his rough old dickhead into her sweet young mouth and began to move her lips and tongue on it. 

Amy was new at this; but she reasoned that the idea was to make her mouth feel as much like a pussy as possible, and she let her mouth grow wet, letting her saliva flow - and she moved and slid her tongue and cheeks on it, dragging them over the sensitive rim, sucking gently and rolling her head from side to side. 

Amy's eyes closed with pleasure as she worked her mouth lovingly on her strong man's dick. There was nothing in the world but that fat, rubbery knob that filled her mouth, and she tried to smoothly massage and caress every bit of it as she sucked and slobbered on it shamelessly. 

Spit and pre-cum began to ooze from her lips and drool from her mouth and chin; she let it drip, and even made sure there was more. She wanted to be sloppy and slutty, as nasty as possible, as her Geoff watched her make him feel good. She began to suck rhythmically, bobbing her head up and down as she worked his sensitive knob in her mouth as sensuously and smoothly as she could. 

She heard him moan, and opened her eyes; he was staring down at her, his craggy, handsome old face twisted and congested as if he were in agony. He was gripping the rocks at either side of him so hard his knotty old knuckles were white. 

She stroked his shaft up and down with her cum-slippery hands and scratched lightly behind his balls with her nails. She rotated and bobbed her head and slid his dick in and out of her mouth, fucking him with it, doing her best to draw out his cum as she knelt naked on the grass at his feet. 

Geoff's old cock had already shot twice that day, and it was taking a long time for Amy to pull another load up from his aging balls; but she was glad. She wanted to suck his dick naked forever. She loved it. She'd suck him for hours if he needed it, and she'd adore every second of it. 

For his part, Geoff was gasping and shuddering at the feel of his young lover's mouth on his bone. She was sucking him without experience, but with total commitment and love, and that was better. Amy's mouth was by far the best he'd ever had. Only her sweet wet pussy was better - and maybe not even that. He watched her, unbelieving, stunned as well as stimulated by her youth and beauty and her absolute love and devotion. 

She sensed him growing more excited, and quickened her pace; bobbing her head faster, working her mouth and tongue on his dickhead more urgently, sucking a little harder - and, remembering their shower, beginning to hum. 

A low note, for maximum vibration. Geoff grimaced and shivered at Amy's astonishing cocksucking ability, and felt his cum rising. 

So did Amy, and she sucked and hummed and worked on his swollen, sensitive dick even more devotedly, loving him, fucking him with her mouth, sweetly and intimately and with fervent passion. She heard him moan, and sucked him faster and faster, whipping his dickhead with her tongue, watching his agonized eyes as she slobbered all over his cock, letting their juices drool from her chin. 

He likes it messy, she thought. I'll show him messy... 

When she felt the first small spurt emerge from his swollen dickhead, Amy knew what to do. She lifted her head from his dick and tilted it back, with her mouth wide open and her tongue extended as far as possible - and jacked him off into her mouth and all over her face with three pretty fingers, her strange eyes on his as she made a show of enjoying his flying, squirting sperm. 

He watched, staring in disbelief and jerking in intense, soul-searing orgasm, as this beautiful young teenage girl licked and lapped shamelessly at his bare, vibrating, squirting dick, taking his load all over her cheeks and nose and chin as well as in her mouth and on her tongue. She giggled happily as she reveled in his orgasm, jacking him all the way off onto her lovely face, licking and kissing his dickhead even as it spurted thick white slop all over her lips. She stick out her tongue obscenely and pulled at his dick, milking it onto her tongue and laughing as he shuddered and stared and covered her pretty face with his copious, stringy load. 

As his spurts began to weaken and slow, she popped her pretty mouth back over his dickhead and sucked out a few more, working her mouth and tongue smoothly and lovingly on his supersensitive head, making him cry out at the intense sensation - and then sucking him even harder and more passionately. She gave him no mercy, working his bare, cum-slimy knob hard and wetly, immediately after he came, heedless of the sperm dripping from her face and of his cries and struggles. 

Amy's universe was that swollen, slick dickhead in her mouth, and she worshiped it fervently, devotedly, holding Geoff's balls and loving him without restraint. 

He finally pulled her off him, but her mouth remained extended, her tongue whipping, and her eyes on his dick, as a long skein of sperm trailed and hung from her working mouth to his fiery dickhead. She licked her lips and strained to reach it, her mouth still sucking, though empty. 

Amy had been sucking his dick naked for forty-five minutes, but she didn't want to stop. She wanted more. She finally settled back on her knees and looked up, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. She licked her lips with a childlike smile on her cum-splattered face. "That was fun, Geoffie! I like doing that!" 

He looked down at her, shaking his head in wonder. "You never did that before either, did you?" he asked. 

She shook her head, both her eyes wide and innocent. "Did I do all right?" 

Laughter sprang from his mouth and tears from his eyes at the same instant, and he slid down onto the grass and pulled her into his arms. 

"Oh, Amy, Amy, Amy," he rumbled, weeping with love and joy, covering her sticky face with kisses. "You're wonderful - perfect - so sweet..."

She giggled. "Now you're just as gooey as I am, Geoffie," she said, and began to lick his cum from his mouth and wrinkled cheeks. 

He watched her laughing eyes, and thought; and he understood something new, once again. How much can an old man learn in just a few days? he wondered. 

"You've never been hurt, have you, Punkin?" he asked quietly.

She looked at him curiously, wiping a drop of cum from her nose and licking it from her finger. "What do you mean, Geoffie?"

"That's why you can love me so completely," he said softly. "You're not afraid. You've never given your heart and had it torn in two before your eyes." 

She smiled. "And I never will, will I?" She kissed his mouth and rocked her hips, rubbing her wet pussy on his belly. She had wrapped her bare legs around his waist. 

She hugged him with all four of her lovely limbs, rubbing her bare chest on his. "No, Geoffie, I've never been hurt. And I know you'll never hurt me." 

He held her close, stroking her smooth young back. "No," he murmured. "Never." He rocked her, thinking, and he spoke as he thought - something she had only just taught him to do. 

"You're still a baby, Punkin, and I'm going to keep you that way. You love me like the child you still are inside, and that's a miracle you can't understand; but do you know the real miracle?" 

She shook her head, looking at him wide-eyed. "It's that you've taught me to love like that too." He smiled. "I haven't been a baby for a long, long time, Punkin. But here I am, naked in the playpen with you." 

She laughed, not quite understanding, but happy that he was happy. Then she nipped at his dewlaps again, wriggling against him suggestively. 

"My turn, Geoffie," she whispered, rubbing her breasts on his chest. "I need to cum now. Sucking you made me so hot...." He felt her pussy against his belly, warm and soft and juicy-wet. 

He looked at her speculatively. "Wait here," he said. He lifted her off his lap, got up, and started for the house. 

She watched him go, wondering at the strange smile he had given her as he rose. After a moment, she leaned back against the smooth rock and let the sun caress her bare skin. 

Whatever it was, it would be good, she thought... 

She opened her eyes a few minutes later to a sound it took her a moment to identify. The popping, rumbling animal growl of a Harley-Davidson V-Twin.... She sat up and stared, feeling a liquid quiver of fear in her belly. 

Geoff sat astride the vintage motorcycle, grinning. He was wearing jeans and boots, but no shirt. He turned off the ignition, and it sputtered into silence. "Get on, Punkin," he said. "Put your feet on these." He tapped a footpeg, high on the frame of the bike behind him. "Be careful of the exhaust pipes. They're hot." 

The pretty teen stood, exquisitely conscious of her nudity. "Like this?" she asked in a tiny voice. "Naked?" He nodded, his grin widening. 

"Trust me," he said. 

She nodded uncertainly and approached the bike, trembling a little. "Are we going to go - out on the street?" she whimpered. 

He took her hand and kissed it. "You know I'd never do that to you, sweetheart," he rumbled. "Come on. Get on. You're going to like this, I promise." 




Canon Ch. 04



She looked at the seat behind him. It was not so much a saddle as an undulating, leather-covered padded ridge, perhaps three inches wide and deeply curved. 

She climbed on behind him, careful to keep her bare leg away from the chromed pipes on the right side. She settled her bare feet onto the pegs and her bare crotch onto the narrow black leather seat, which fit her perfectly, supporting her in surprising comfort. 

Amy was thrillingly conscious of her lewd, unladylike pose - virtually squatting on the leather ridge, her bare feet high and her legs cocked up and wide open, her bare ass on display. All her weight rested on the narrow seat, which cradled her bare, wet crotch intimately from her hairless mound to her clenching asshole. She shivered. It felt naughty and good... 

"There's something you need to know about old Harleys, Punkin," said Geoff, looking at her over his shoulder at her with a wicked grin on his old face. 

"What?" said the naked, shivering girl. She clung to him, her bare breasts against his scarred old back. He turned the key and stomped the starter, and the big V-Twin roared back to life. 

"Oh... Oh, my God..."

"They shake," said the old man, laughing. He twisted the throttle once or twice, making the big engine burble and growl, and he felt Amy's trembling arms circle his waist - and then grope at his chest. 

"Oh, G-Geoff," she gasped. "It's so s-strong..."

The vibration of the big engine traveled through the frame, through the firm seat bolted to it, and directly into Amy's unprotected pussy and crotch. There was no escaping it, and she was already rising toward a powerful climax. 

He looked down to see her bare foot on the high footpeg, her pretty toes curled up tight in excitement. She was already gasping, clinging to his back and trembling. 

"Hang on," he said, and shifted the bike into gear. 

Amy cried out and shook against him as they rode into the trees. "Geoff, I'm cumming - I'm cumming now..." He deliberately steered the bike into a series of bumps and ruts, knowing they would pound the vibrating saddle into the naked girl's pussy and drive her even higher. Her hands clawed at his chest desperately as she grunted and strained, powerless to stop cumming as the big, brutal bike virtually fucked her without mercy. 

Geoff rode around on the big property for fifteen or twenty long, cruel minutes, finding every bump and pothole, with the naked teen squatting helplessly on that hellish ridge behind him. She was crying and whimpering, buffeted from one electrifying orgasm to the next. 

Amy ground her pussy into the soaked saddle desperately, opening her legs even wider and pressing her bare clit into the leather, feeling her wet, flaring lips split open against it. The pale, radiant nudie was humping against the old man's back, and he grinned and gunned the bike as he drove it across a network of ruts and ridges of dried mud, heading back toward the house. 

"Oh, G-G-God, Geoffie... Oh, God, it's - it's so - Unnngh.... UNNGH..."

As he pulled the machine up behind the veranda, she was cumming again, shaking harder than the bike. He let the engine idle till she stopped shivering, then turned it off. She clung to him, and he felt her sweat slick against his back. 

He helped her climb off, and helped her stand shakily for a moment; he looked at the bike, and smiled. Her juices were running down the sides of the saddle and down onto the frame. 

He picked her up and carried her back to the pool. She clung to his neck, breathing hard and trembling. "Oh, Geoffie - that was - that was amazing..." 

"Well, you said you needed to cum," he chuckled, warm thunder. She smiled up at him lazily and shivered. 

"And I did," she quavered. "I don't know how many times. God, Geoffie, please don't ever take me anywhere on that thing - I'd get there with soaked panties and crossed eyes." 

He laid her gently on the grass as they laughed. "So you liked it?" he asked with a grin. 

She laughed, still trembling. "What do you think? I was naked outside and scared and embarrassed and I felt naughty and bad and helpless and I was cumming my ass off..." She shivered. "I've never felt anything like that, ever." She looked up at him, beginning to relax, her eyes dreamy. "Yes, Geoffie. I liked it." 

"Show me," he said. He was sitting beside her on the grass. She smiled indulgently and twisted toward him, then pulled her knees back and open. 

Amy's pussy was flared open and glistening, shockingly swollen and fiery-red. As he watched, he saw it twitching and grasping, her muscles squeezing involuntarily. "Do I look nasty, Geoffie?" she whispered. "Tell me I'm a nasty naked girl..." 

Her pretty bare feet were up in the air, and he took one in his spotted old hand and kissed its pink sole. "You look like a sweet, innocent little virgin, Punkin...." 

She looked at him expectantly, and he grinned and went on: "...who's just been gangfucked by the 82nd Airborne Division." She giggled and clapped her thighs together, knees still high, and he tickled her swollen pussy and laughed with her. 

"Yes, you're a nasty naked girl, Amy. But you're my nasty naked girl." He lay down beside her, and she came into his arms. "Remember that." 

She snuggled close and kissed his chest. "Always, Geoffie," she whispered. "Forever." A few minutes later, she breathed, "I like going naked all day for you. I want to do it every weekend." 

He kissed her hair. "Deal," he said. "Weekends you're my naked slave girl. The rest of the time you're just my warm wet pussy." She giggled and kissed him. 

They lay together in the warm sun for a while, then Amy shivered. "I feel like I'm still vibrating inside, Geoffie, like I'm a violin string. I never came that hard or that many times in my life. I can't calm down." 

He hugged her. "I know what you need," he said. He got up and held out his hand. "Come," he said. 

She blinked up at him. "I did," she said. "That's the problem." Then she smiled and let him help her up. 

With his arm around her shoulder and her arm around his waist, the booted and bluejeaned old man and the barefoot and nude young woman walked toward the big old house. 

--- 

Two minutes later, Amy was lying on top of him, nude and safe in his arms, as he hummed along with the bass part of the Canon. She snuggled close, her ear to his chest, as he rocked her gently on the bearskin rug in the living room.

My Amy, he thought as his deep voice droned the eight-note pattern that they both loved. My Amy. My love, my darling... 

As it always did, the deep tones soothed and calmed the lovely teen, made her feel warm and safe, that everything was all right. 

And it was. 

--- 

They sent out for pizza yet again, and Amy stood naked behind the door and tried to keep from giggling as Geoff paid the kid - who probably wondered what this tough-looking old guy was grinning about. He tipped well, though... 

After the pizza, they shared a steam and a shower again, but without the fireworks this time - just holding each other, kissing, and murmuring of their love. 

As he dried her, rubbing her glorious body with soft Turkish towels, he whispered, "Want to go for a little ride?" 

She shivered and laughed. "Oh, no, Geoffie, I couldn't take it... Just take me to bed and hold me." Then she looked up at him and blinked. "Unless there's something you want your slave girl to do..." 

He smiled. Then, "Ride on it facing backwards in front of a line of Navy buses," he said with a wicked grin. 

"Ooo!" 

"But not tonight." He hugged her. "All I want to do tonight is take you to bed and hold you." 

She looked up at him adoringly as he carried her down the hall in their nightly ritual, her arms around his neck. "You have an evil mind," she murmured. "I like having a master like that." 

He smiled down at her, and she shivered again at his expression. "Honey," he said, "as they say - you ain't seen nothin' yet."

"Mmmm." She nuzzled his chest. "I can't wait..." 

They drifted off together, warm and bare beneath the silken covers, to the strains of their Canon. Soft kisses, sweet caresses, and joy as deep as the ocean - and finally, sleep without dreams. What was there to dream? All their dreams had come true, even those they had never thought or dared to dream. 

--- 

The next day was busy. They got up at 6:30, showered together without excessive giggling, dressed, had a quick breakfast, and were off to the school - in the Toyota, this time. 

Geoff accompanied Amy as they went from one venue to the next, standing in lines, filling out forms, and finally handing over the certified check from her parents. 

Amy saw a few friends from her high-school class and waved. Geoff said, "Maybe you should see if you have any classes with them." 

"I doubt it, Geoff," she said. "All of my classes are AP. But I'll know next week." She waved again, and they were off to the next line.

They went to the campus police office to get a sticker for the car. "Do we need two?" asked Geoff. "Do you want to drive the Jag?" 

She blinked up at him through her glasses. They were standing in line again. "Would you let me?" 

He shrugged. "Sure, Punkin."

She smiled, then said, "Thanks, Geoff, but I think, maybe, no. I'd hate to see some drunk frat boy come out of an alley and smush it."

He chewed on that. "You're right," he said. "I've done enough killing." Then he grinned. 

"Besides," she said, her cheeks growing pink, "I don't know how to drive a stick shift." He laughed at that, and then it was their turn. 

When they were done with the paperwork, they drove around the campus a bit and found where all of Amy's classes were; then it was off to the campus bookstore. 

Geoff insisted that she buy all her books new, and paid for them. "You don't want some idiot's margin notes and underlining in your books, do you?" he asked as he carried the bag to the car. 

"Well, no... But..." 

"It's okay, Amy." He grinned at her. "You can pay me later... You can work it off." Then he winked. 

She giggled and blushed, then got in the passenger side. As Geoff started the car, she said, "Thanks for coming with me, Geoffie. It would have been scary if you weren't there." 

He smiled. "Pure selfishness," he said. "I didn't want to sit around the house missing you." 

She slid over close to him. "I'm going to hate going to class," she said reflectively. "I'd rather stay home with you and play." 

He put his arm around her shoulders. "It'll be okay, Punkin," he said. "We'll still have plenty of time together." 

"And every night," she whispered. 

He smiled and squeezed her, then asked, "Well, when do you start? I don't remember your schedule." 

"Nothing happens till Monday," she said. "There's some orientation stuff tomorrow and Friday, but it's about dorms and buses and stuff and doesn't apply to me. The academic orientation starts next week." 

"Oh." 

There was a moment of silence. 

"So we have four days with nothing to do but fuck," she said, suppressing a giggle. "I can be your naked slave girl the whole time." 

He grinned at her. "No, Punkin," he said. "Not the whole time." 

"No?"

"I want to see you in that tiny little bikini," he said, "and I'll bet you have some other naughty things you can wear for me, too." 

She smirked. "I have these shorts that Mom wouldn't let me wear in public - and some thong panties you might like - and another bikini..." Then she snuggled closer and whispered, "And my belly-dancing costume. I don't have to wear all of it..." 

He groaned, and she rose up and kissed his old cheek. "But I do want to spend at least one more day naked, Geoffie. And I want you to tie me up and fuck me till I cry, like you said." 

"Oh, Amy..." 

They rode in silence till they got to the gate of their private playground. As it rolled open, Amy slipped off her sneakers and pulled her polo shirt over her head. By the time they pulled into the garage, the pretty teen was wriggling out of her panties. "I'm baaarefoot, Geoffie," she trilled. "You'll have to carry me so my feet don't get dirty..." 

He carried the naked girl to the house, and she smirked up at him. She had nothing on but her glasses, the way he loved her best. "I want you to fuck me from behind, too," she said. "Really hard." 

"You little tease," he growled, narrowly avoiding slamming her head into a post. "You're going to drive me crazy." 

Amy, predictably, giggled and wriggled sexily in his arms. "Ooo, Geoffie... My pussy is so wet..." 

He put her down on the floor of the kitchen, then bent to kiss her. Their tongues played for a moment as they embraced, and then she whispered, "Geoffie, there's something special I want to do." 

"What's that, Punkin?" 

Her face was glowing, a brighter red than he'd ever seen it. "You'll think it's silly," she said in a tiny voice. "You'll laugh at me. Or you'll think I'm a baby." 

What on Earth? he thought. What could make her so afraid? 

"It's important to you, isn't it?" he said. She nodded, looking at her feet. 

He put a finger under her chin and tilted her face up to him. "Amy, look at me," he said. 

She did. "What's the one, best, thing we have, Amy? What makes it so right between us, more than it would be with anyone else?" 

She looked in his eyes, and once again, hers were strangely the same; the sky blue and the earth brown, both innocent and open, fearful and yet trusting. 

"Trust," she said softly, her voice that of a child. "We trust each other." 

He nodded. "Come," he said, and led her to the couch, where she lay across his lap. He was still fully clothed, and she was baby-naked. 

He held her close and whispered to her, stroking her like a kitten. "Tell me," he said. "You know you can. You know I won't laugh, sweet baby. You know I'll give you whatever you want."

She clung to him. "I know, Geoffie... But it's hard. I've never told anyone." 

"So tell me," he said. She drew back and looked at him, her heart in her eyes. He grinned at her and shrugged. "Who else you going to tell?" 

It was the perfect touch of truth and laughter. She smiled uncertainly and said, "Well... I want to make you shoot every way there is." He nodded, listening. "And there's one way - where I don't even touch you. I make you cum just by being sexy. Just from your looking at me." 

He nodded, thinking - then he got it. "You want me to masturbate while I watch you," he said. "You want me to jack off to you till I shoot." 

She nodded, her chin trembling. Her eyes were filling, she was so afraid. 

"What makes you think that's something I wouldn't love too?" he said softly. 

Her mouth opened then, and her eyes grew wide. "You mean..." 

"Amy, I've never thought of it - but, oh, my God, yes. Yes. Yes! To just stare at you while I jerk on my cock? To have you show off and - oh my God, dance for me?" He grinned. "I'm getting a hard-on again just thinking about it." 

"And can I watch you shoot it to me? Maybe all over me? Try to catch it in my mouth sometimes? In my pussy?" 

He laughed, and she laughed too. "Oh, yes! 'Shoot a wad to the nudie cutie' - This is going to be one of my favorite games, Punkin! You know how I love to look at you..." He shook his head. "I'm surprised I never thought of it myself." 

She hugged him, her eyes wet. "Oh, Geoff - you don't know what this means to me. I've dreamed of it ever since - well, ever since ever." 

He got it, again. "This is what the belly dancing is about," he whispered. "Why you learned." He felt her nod. 

She leaned back and smiled at him, wiping her eyes. "How did you get so good, anyway?" he asked. "I can't believe Ellie let you take lessons." 

She laughed, her voice cracking a little. "I bought a set of DVDs, online," she said, her voice shaky. "I practiced in my room. No one else has ever seen me dance, Geoff." 

He suddenly kissed her, deeply, passionately, and, after a second, she responded. In two seconds, they were lost in it, holding each other and telling secrets with their tongues. He stroked her back and hips and thighs with long sweeps of his gentle hands. Finally, he hugged her, breathing in her small pink ear:

"Every time I think it's perfect, and it couldn't get any better, you surprise me, Amy. Every time I think you've given me everything I could ever dream of - you give me a new dream, and you fulfill it. You take me farther and show me more." He looked at her, and felt his old heart breaking with the deepest joy he'd ever known. "I never knew I could be this happy, or love - or be loved - this much." 

Then he grinned through the mist in his eyes. "And I'm an old guy, Punkin," he said. "I almost never found out." 

"I'm yours, old guy," she whispered. "Take me to bed and fuck me. I'm already dressed for it."

"Don't you want to...?" 

She shook her head. "Not now. Now I want to touch you as much as I can - with my arms and legs around you and my lips around your tongue and my pussy all around your bare, hard old dick." 

He smiled. "You want a dirty old man to fuck you, you nasty little naked girl." 

She shivered. "Ooo, Uncle Geoff," she cooed. "I don't have any clothes on... Please don't stick your big bare cock up my naked little hole and slide it in and out..." 

He laughed, a feral growl, and carried her whimpering to their bed... 

Where he tied her up and fucked her till she cried. 

Till they both did. 

---



Canon Ch. 05



"Wow." 

Amy stared at Geoff as he stood in the doorway of her room, and he stared at her. "Likewise," he said. 

Amy wore a chocolate-brown evening dress that hugged her curves. It was perhaps a tiny bit shorter and a tiny bit lower-cut than was quite proper, but she looked ravishing. The dress contrasted fetchingly with her ivory-pale skin, and her hair was pinned up in Geoff's favorite Victorian style. Her jewelry was a blue topaz necklace with matching earrings and bracelet, and her purse and pretty high-heeled sandals were that same pale blue. 

It took a moment for Geoff to notice that her dress matched her left eye and her jewelry matched her right. The effect was magical. 

The old man himself stood as straight as a new recruit, wearing his Marine dress blues for the first time in many years. He was rather proud of the fact that they still fit. 

Amy had never seen them. "I thought you were going to wear a suit," she said wonderingly. She thought he looked strong and manly and noble, all of which he was. 

He smiled thinly. "I'm not a suit kind of guy, Punkin," he said. "I don't own one. Or a tie, either. When I dress up, these are what I wear. If my blues aren't formal enough, fuck 'em." 

She stared at him in open admiration. "You look wonderful, Geoffie. May I look?" 

He grinned. "Please do." 

She came closer and gazed at the five rows of ribbons on his tunic, and at the row of medals above them, touching them reverently. She ran a small, white hand up and down his sleeve. She touched his sergeant-major's patch - yellow stripes on red, three up, four down, with a star in the center - and then she ran a finger down the double rows of short diagonal stripes that ran from his wrist to his elbow. "What are these?" she asked. 

"Those are called hash marks, Amy," he rumbled. "Each one represents a battle." 

She looked up at his leathery old face. "You've got a lot." He nodded, his face solemn. She smiled and said, "I'm so proud of you, Geoff. I'm proud to be yours." 

The old man in the dress uniform looked at her, thinking. Then he nodded, as if he had come to a decision. "Come with me, Amy," he said. 

They walked down the hall to Geoff's study, which she had seen, but not often. He went to his desk, pulled out a lower drawer, and took out a flat, leather-covered box. It had the Marine Corps globe-and-anchor emblem embossed in gold on its lid. 

He turned to her. "Punkin, I haven't worn this since they gave it to me - and that was long before you were born. Your mom and dad don't even know I have it." He looked at the box, then held it out to her. 

"But tonight, for you - I'm going to wear it. Would you put it on me?"

Amy took the box from his hand, wondering. She opened it. 

Inside was a medal: a five-pointed star, hanging point down from an anchor which was attached to a pale-blue ribbon. The panel from which it hung bore thirteen tiny white stars. 

Even Amy knew what it was. 

"Geoff - this is the Medal of Honor," she said reverently. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and adoring. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" 

He looked uncomfortable. "I don't want everyone making a big deal about it," he muttered. 

She stood on tiptoe and fastened it around his neck, smoothing the ribbon around the stand-up collar of his blue tunic. Then she stood back and admired him. "Geoff, I'm so proud of you," she said again. 

He smiled - strangely for the old warrior - shyly. "Thank you, Punkin. Come on, let's go." 

He picked up his white dress cover from the kitchen table, and they went to the garage. They took the Jaguar, of course.

---

Four months had passed; Amy had settled into her classes, doing her usual A-plus-plus work. Geoff liked to watch her study, admiring her eyes behind her glasses as she read, her pretty hands as she wrote, her little pink tongue as it protruded from her sweet lips when she concentrated. He ached to hold her and kiss her at all times - but while she worked, he watched and smiled only, and enjoyed the ache. 

They made love in some fashion every day, usually more than once; and they had grown more and more skilled, and more passionate, as the weeks went by. Amy did indeed spend their weekends as his naughty slave girl, naked and barefoot, reveling in her ability to please and tease and shock him and make him laugh and smile and moan and cum and sometimes weep with pleasure and love and gratitude.  Amy wept too, often enough; tears of joy at her own good fortune at being blessed with his unconditional love and devotion. Old and weathered he was, but not weakened by it; and his passion was as young and strong as her own. 

Their time together was sometimes dreamlike, sometimes surreal; swept away daily, sometimes hourly, by waves of love as overwhelming as breakers on the ocean - and storms of blazing, consuming passion and lust as intense as any hurricane. They loved, they were in love, they made love, and they licked and sucked and fucked like rutting animals when the fire burned within them - and it burned often. 

She danced and posed for him often, too; and she made him cum with her nude loveliness and sizzling sexuality alone, just as she had wanted. Geoff adored those times as much as she, taking pleasure unimaginable from the sight of her bare body and her eagerness to tease and shock him. 

Were they happy? 

They were far beyond happy. They were complete. 

Almost....

---

They were on their way to a concert at the school. Geoff was not much for formal affairs, but this one was different. The local symphony was performing at the college's auditorium, and prominent on the program was Pachelbel's "Canon in D." 

"Thank you for getting the tickets, Geoff," said Amy, watching him from the left front seat as he drove.

"Wouldn't miss it," he said. "Fact is, I called in a favor to get the Canon on the program." 

She blinked. "Really?" 

"One of the Symphony board members was my commanding officer," the old man said. "Colonel Johnston. One of the best men I ever served under." He smiled and added, "Put me in for the MOH. I told him I didn't want it, but he did it anyway." 

"Will he be wearing his dress uniform, too?" she asked. 

Geoff considered. "If he's there," he said. "Wouldn't surprise me. We Marines are partial to the blue." 

When they arrived at the hall, Geoff parked the car, helped Amy get out - it wasn't easy, in a dress - then put on his hat and looked around. "Uh-oh," he said. 

"What?" She looked toward the hall. "Oh." 

There were at least two score of Marines and sailors in dress blues and whites, Army officers and NCOs in Class A's and dress blues, and even some Air Force officers in their dress uniforms entering the. Hall with their wives and dates. 

"What's wrong with that, Geoff?" asked Amy, puzzled. 

"You remember how I said I didn't want anyone making a big deal about this?" he asked, indicating the medal around his neck. His craggy old face was grim.

"Uh-huh..." 

"Well, Johnsty's going to make a big deal about it." He offered his arm, and Amy took it; then he took a deep breath, visibly braced himself, and they started for the door. 

She looked up at him proudly and squeezed him arm. "Good," she whispered.

He looked down at her, surprised, then smiled wryly. 

"Like I said, Punkin. For you." He looked toward the hall and made a face. "For you, I'll even put up with this."

She twinkled up at him. "Be proud, Geoffie. You're allowed." He snorted, and they walked on.

As they entered the lobby, Amy fairly glowed to see senior officers - even admirals and generals - come to attention and salute as Geoff passed. He returned their salutes with an ironic air, nodding and smiling his thanks at their deference. Several came up to him to shake the old man's hand, saying, "Thank you, Sergeant-Major," "It's an honor, sir," or simply, "Semper Fi." 

They worked their way into the auditorium, and finally took their seats - on the front row, no less. Amy was enthralled by the sight of the stage, the instruments, the podium with its stacks of sheet music and small white baton. More patrons came to speak to Geoff and shake his hand, and he rose to greet every one. 

He invariably introduced Amy as his "dear friend." Some looked at her with a veiled speculation, but most simply greeted her warmly. One elderly woman winked at her and whispered, "Lucky girl," which made her giggle. The old woman and the young one exchanged conspiratorial smiles, and Amy felt strangely lightheaded. 

She knows, she thought. Does it show that much? 

Finally, the audience was seated and quiet, and the musicians entered and spent the usual cacophonous few minutes tuning up. The conductor entered from the wings, resplendent in white tie, and bowed to a round of applause. He then stepped down from the podium and approached a microphone. 

"Ladies and gentlemen - Colonel Harold W. Johnston, United States Marine Corps, retired." 

A tall, distinguished-looking man in a well-tailored tuxedo entered from the opposite side of the stage and strode to the microphone to a round of applause which lasted a bit longer than that for the conductor. The only sign of his service was a small gold pin in his lapel, which Amy recognized even at that distance to be the globe and anchor of the Corps. 

"Here we go," whispered Geoff ruefully. Amy squeezed his arm in encouragement. 

"Ladies and gentlemen," said the colonel, looking around the hall, "Tonight is a special night - and word seems to have gotten around. I see a lot of dress blue and white and green out there. The troops are in attendance." There was a rumble of assent, and the colonel went on. 

"There is a man among us tonight," he said, "whom I've been trying to get to come to the Symphony for years. And the old goat is finally here." There was a round of good-natured laughter. 

"I know this man well," the colonel went on, "and I know if I tried to tell his story, he would come up here and hit me. And believe me, I don't want that." More laughter, in which even Geoff himself joined. 

"But I think we owe him a moment to honor his service and his valor, which I WILL tell you, are the most worthy of honor of any man I have ever known or served with." 

He stopped for a moment, visibly moved. "And so - even though I know he hates this - ladies and gentlemen, I give you Sergeant-Major Geoffrey Rider, United States Marine Corps, retired - holder of five Distinguished Service citations, two Silver Stars, the Navy Cross, and the Medal of Honor." He beckoned to Geoff, who, with a rueful look at Amy, stood, turned, and faced the audience. 

As one, they rose to their feet, even the musicians. The applause was deafening, punctuated with cheers and whistles and martial whoops. The old soldier stood stoically, nodding and gesturing for them to stop, his eyes glistening. 

Suddenly, he turned and mounted the steps to the stage. As he approached the microphone with a determined air, he muttered out of the side of his mouth to his old friend: "I'll get you for this..." The colonel laughed and stepped back. 

Geoff stood at the mike and waited for the ovation to end. When it didn't, he held up a hand and frowned, and the noise subsided quickly. Amy watched him, her heart bursting with pride and love. 

He leaned in to the microphone, and his deep voice boomed through the hall: 

"Thank you all," he said, "but some of you know I don't like this much. I know old Johnsty here does, and he should have known better." He growled the last with an ironic smile at his former commander, and once again there was a round of laughter. 

He turned back to the listening crowd, and his face grew grim. "Let me tell you why I don't like it. Don't get me wrong: I'm not angry," he said, shaking his head. "I'm deeply, deeply honored. But I'm not the one we should be honoring. The real heroes - and we all know this - the real heroes..." 

He paused, looking out at the hundreds of faces watching him. 

"....they never came home." 

He let those words hang in the hall for a moment, then spoke more softly. "How about a standing ovation for them?" 

The old man stepped away from the microphone and began to clap, slowly, standing straight and tall, alone in the spotlight. 

Amy stood and joined him, along with a few others - and then, quickly, more and more, till the whole hall was on its feet and clapping, hard and loudly. 

It went on and on. Amy looked around and saw tough old soldiers with tears running down their cheeks, clapping for friends long dead. She felt moisture on her own face, and clapped till her hands hurt. 

As the clapping continued, and grew louder, and as shouts and cheers began to ring out as well, she began to weep openly. She watched her lover, standing up for the honor of dead men more than for his own, and she cried. 

No wonder I love him so, she thought. He's the best and strongest and noblest man I've ever known. 

I want to wear his name. I want to be his wife and I want the world to know it....

Where did that come from? she wondered. 

And then she realized that that was the one thing she could never have. 

Geoff mouthed the words "Thank you," and left the stage as the ovation was still going on. He went back to his seat and stood beside Amy, touched the tears on her cheeks adoringly, then joined in the clapping himself. As it slowly subsided, he hugged her, holding her head to his chest for a long moment before they resumed their seats. 

She leaned close to him and breathed into his ear: "I love you, Geoff." 

She barely heard his whisper over the last of the applause as the audience sat down, murmuring their admiration for the man who had taken their tribute and given it to others. 

"You are my life, Amy." 

--- 

The concert finally began. It was a mixed bag; it began with the longest composition, Handel's Water Music, which was followed by a short intermission. 

Afterwards, there were two Mozart concertos, including one for clarinet and orchestra, which Geoff had also selected; a Bach fugue; and the shortest piece on the program, Rachmaninoff's 18th Variation from his Rhapsody on a Theme from Paganini. 

Amy gasped and looked up at Geoff when the familiar music began, and he smiled down at her and squeezed her hand. It was the theme from a movie they had both loved long before that summer - "Somewhere in Time." 

They had watched it together since, and it held a deep resonance for them both. They, too, were soulmates separated by time - though not as much time as in the movie, for which they were grateful. 

Finally, the bass viols, accompanied by pizzicato violins, began the eight deep notes of the "Canon in D." Amy and Geoff looked at each other...

And they could not look away. 

Her eyes, so strangely different and yet at that moment the same, spoke to him of her pride and trust and admiration - and as the music changed and grew, more complex and profound by the measure, of her love, her passion and her hunger. 

In his lined, weathered face, she saw his adoration, his devotion, and his gratitude - and his own passion and aching need. 

He lifted her small hand and kissed it, heedless of the eyes of others. She touched his old cheek, as if they were alone. 

And as the Canon ended, they bowed their heads as if in prayer, their foreheads touching, the lined and the smooth; and their hands, so different, were clasped together beneath their chins. 

When the last strains died away, they looked at each other and smiled - and no one watching could have failed to see the loving look that passed between them. 

--- 

Two old Marines had seen the pair listening to the music. As they left the hall, they, along with more than a few others, watched the old man and the young girl walk to the Jaguar hand in hand. 

"I don't think we need to worry about the sergeant-major's morale," one said with a smile. 

The other grinned. "She's a pretty little thing, isn't she?" They watched him pick her up and deposit her in the car. 

"A beauty. God bless him," said the first. "He deserves her." 

"Yes, he does," said the other. "I hope she deserves him." 

--- 

Amy wondered the same thing herself, as she and Geoff made love that night. 

They were in the steam room, with the steam low; the room was warm and foggy, but not searing-hot. Amy sat in the circle of Geoff's strong legs and arms, her own arms and legs wrapped around him - and all her weight resting on the stiff 70-year-old cock that impaled her to the heart. 

They had sat so for more than an hour without moving. It was a Tantra Yoga technique that Geoff had taught her, and it had become almost sacred to them. 

As they sat, still and intimately connected, their thoughts and emotions slowed and centered, spiraling and circling down, down, till they were at the silent center of each other's souls - without words or thoughts, in neither darkness nor light, within and around each other, outside of time and space. They became one being, a single soul with a single consciousness. 

And as they remained still, beyond that oneness, they felt a rising energy, a tide of pure elemental sensation that began deep inside them and rose, as irresistible and overwhelming as a tidal wave, till they were swept away in a massive super-orgasm that lasted for long minutes, so deep and intense that they seemed to melt and burn away to nothing in its flame. 

They slowly emerged from the storm, still connected, clinging to each other, soaked with sweat and sitting in a pool of cum that flowed from them both - but as rested and relaxed and peaceful as if they had slept in each other's arms instead of having just been vaporized in an eternal nuclear climax.

They finally moved; and Geoff stroked and petted the naked girl in his lap as she nuzzled his chest affectionately. 

"Mmmm... I love that so much, Geoffie..." 

He kissed her moist temple, brushing her hair with his lips. "I need that like I need air, Amy," he said, his gentle words a strange contrast to his deep and gravelly voice. "I need to touch your heart..." 

"Mmm. Me too." She hugged him, squeezing him tight with both her arms and legs.

They kissed, and then snuggled for a few minutes, neither wanting to break their connection. 

Geoff rocked her gently as they embraced. "Thank you for the music tonight, Geoffie," said the nude teen in his arms. "It was wonderful. Especially the surprise." 

"Surprise?" 

"The 'Somewhere in Time' one," she murmured, rubbing her cheek on his wet, gray-haired chest. "That was so special..." 

He stroked her wet hair, smiling, but said nothing. 

"Are you OK, after all that at the concert?" she asked. 

"Sure," he said. "I think it came out all right. How about you? I really wish you hadn't seen that..." 

"I loved it, Geoffie," she whispered. "Every girl wants to be loved by a hero." 

"Aw..." He started to protest, then decided to let it go. He squeezed her, kissed her damp shoulder, and, again, said nothing. 

"Will you ever tell me what you did?" 

"No." The word was definite and final. "That was a long time ago, Punkin." 

She wriggled in protest, but did not argue.

He lifted her face to his. "Let's think about today. And tomorrow." He smiled. 

Then his face grew serious. "And maybe after tomorrow." 

She gave him a warning look. "Geoff, you're not-" 

He laughed. "No, I'm not thinking about the bucket, Amy-" The reference being to the one he was going to kick one day- "This is something else. Come on, let's shower and go snuggle in the living room before we go to bed." 

She pressed him a bit as they bathed, but he only shook his head. Finally, they were settled on the big sofa, Geoff in his boxers and Amy in nothing but her glasses. He wrapped a soft blanket around them both, and they cuddled under itfor a moment - till Amy said, "Okay, now. What are you thinking about?" 




Canon Ch. 05



It couldn't be what I thought of at the concert - could it? she thought. 

"Amy," he began, "you know I'm old-school..." 

"Really," she said dryly, lifting an eyebrow. "I'd never have guessed..." 

He chuckled at that, and went on. "I believe in honor and integrity," he said. "Honesty. Everything out front. I don't like hiding things." 

It is, she thought. He wants that too. She smiled.

"Yes, Geoff," she said. "I will." 

He blinked at her. "You will what?" 

"Marry you." 

He gaped at her. "I want your name, Geoff," she said softly. "I want to be your wife. I don't want to hide this or be ashamed of it. I want to tell the world that I'm yours and you're mine." 

He blinked at her again, and began to smile. "You've been thinking about this too," he said. 

She nodded. "But at the concert, I decided it was something I could never have." 

He held her close and kissed her neck, and she hugged his. "I prayed you would want that," he said. Then, "It's funny, Punkin. I never prayed before. But now that you're here - I pray all the time." 

"What else do you pray for, Geoffie?" I'll make it come true if I can, she thought. 

He smiled at the strangely contrasting eyes, big behind her glasses, that looked up at him. "Mostly, I give thanks, Amy," he rumbled quietly. "I thank God for making you - and for giving you to me." 

She snuggled against him. "I thank Him for that too, Geoffie. And that you love me so much." She giggled. "And even that I can turn you on so much and get you so hard." 

He squeezed her. "I love you, naked slave girl," he whispered. 

She giggled. "I love you, my master." Then she looked at him with her amazing eyes - one sweet and pure, one smoky and knowing - and added, "My hero." 

They gazed at each other for some indeterminable time, the old face and the young, and felt no need to speak. They were one on this, as well. 

Then: "What are we going to do, Amy? There's only one problem I can think of."

"My mom and dad." 

He smiled. "That's two." 

She looked at him curiously. "You think Mom will be okay with it?" He nodded, slowly. "Why?" 

He smiled and shook his head. "That's between Ellie and me," he said. 

She stared at him, shocked. "Geoff! You didn't-" 

He waved a hand, shaking his head. "Of course not. But there's a reason she might understand, Amy. Don't ask me to break her confidence." 

Amy looked at him, then nodded. She knew that that was something he would never do - and that that iron integrity was one reason she loved him so, and trusted him. 

"So what do we do?" 

He shrugged. "I only know one way to go, Amy. Straight ahead. You get ready, and then you charge up the hill." 

She looked at him. "I guess you're right. We have to go and tell them." 

He smiled. "Not 'ask'?" 

She shook her head. "No, Geoff. I'm an adult. This is how it's going to be. If they never speak to us again-" 

He voice caught, and her eyes filled. "-that would be terrible. But I belong to you now." 

They embraced, and held each other warmly. They felt the same; certain, at peace, somehow confident and secure. 

And relieved. Both of them were honest by nature, and in spite of the way they had joked about concealing their love, they felt better knowing they would no longer have to. 

Amy snuggled into his arms. "Christmas break is coming up," said Amy. 

"Do we want to wait that long?" 

"I guess not," she said thoughtfully, her head on his chest. 

He stroked her smooth back, petting her, comforting her. He knew this would be harder for her than for him. "I'm not saying we shouldn't, Punkin. They're your parents. It's your decision." 

After a moment, she said, "Well, tomorrow is Saturday. I wanted to play naked slave girl, but I guess that can wait till next week." 

"Mmm. I'm going to miss that too," he said. "Maybe we should wait a day and go on Sunday. That might be better anyway. We can prepare ourselves." He stroked her smooth back. "Remember, I said, 'You get ready - and THEN you charge up the hill.'" He felt her nod. 

"Yeah. I need a little time to build up my courage," she said. "I've never told my parents how it's going to be before. But I know I can do it - for you." 

Then he said, "There are some other things we need to talk about, too." 

She leaned back and looked up at him. "What?" 

He smiled. "Like setting a date. Why don't we do it over the break?" 

She gasped, then smiled happily. Then she looked at him oddly. 

"What?" 

"It just dawned on me, Geoff." 

"What did?" 

She smiled at him impishly. "Well, I gave you an answer - but the fact is, you haven't asked me yet." 

"Oh." He grinned. "Well, let's fix that right now." The old man lifted her from his lap and set her on the couch, then knelt at her feet as she giggled. 

"Amy Madigan," he said in his deep voice, "Will you marry me?" 

She sat there, naked but for her glasses, yet somehow demure; bare knees and feet together, hands folded modestly in her lap. She looked down at him, smiling, but solemn. 

"Yes, Geoffrey," she said quietly. "I will." 

As he carried her to their bed, she giggled. 

He looked down at her with an affectionate smile. "Now what, Punkin?"

"I was just wondering if we should write our own vows." 

After a beat, he laughed out loud.. "Let me guess..."

She smiled up at him. "Wouldn't it be fun? 'Do you promise to tie her up and fuck her till she cries and cover her face with your cum, as long as you both shall live?'"  

He grinned as he laid her on the bed with his usual gentleness. "'Will you keep your pussy shaved and go naked for days and belly dance till he squirts, till death do you p..." 

He faltered, and she looked up at him, her face filled with love. "Never mind that part, Geoffie," she whispered. "And the answer would be, 'I will.'" 

Then she looked at him slyly. "Anyway, you forgot 'Do you promise to be his warm wet pussy and barefoot fucking toy forever?'" 

The leathery old face grinned. "Watch out. You might get another one before you go to sleep." 

She laughed and flipped over, offering him her bare bottom with her knees spread wide and her face in the blankets. She rolled her hips up at him, and her tender, hairless young pussy flared open, pink and wet and inviting. 

"I'm your bitch, Geoffie," she said softly, and began to roll her hips rhythmically. "Woof, woof..." 

"A bitch in heat," he murmured as he slid his boxers to the floor. 

"Mmm-hmm..." she breathed. 

Then: "Oh! Oh, yes... Yessss..." 

Geoff slid his bare, steel-hard dick in and out of her lovely, welcoming vagina, holding her sweet hips and pumping her deeply and slowly. 

"Marry me, Amy... Be my wife... Be mine forever..."

She cocked her ass back at him and opened herself as wide as she could, eyes closed in ecstasy as she subtly moved and squeezed her wet, slippery tube around and around on his sweetly plunging cock. "Oh, yes, Geoff... I'm yours... I'm your soul mate... Your slave girl... Your barefoot whore... Anything you want... Forever... Oh, fuck me, Geoff, fuck me deep..."

Amy loved it from behind. Geoff preferred to look into her disturbing, confusing eyes as he fucked her, but he knew she loved this; so he contented himself with the sight of her perfect bottom and her pretty bare back and legs and bare feet, caressing them all lovingly as he fucked her. As always, he savored the feel of her most secret and intimate part as she worked it on his swollen, sensitive dick, scarcely believing she was real and really loved him. So sweet and devoted, so lovely and naked and perfect... 

He felt his cock growing even harder, and so did she. "Ooo... Ooo, Geoffie... It's so big...." 

The old man crouched and fucked her from beneath as the young girl rolled her bare ass upward, both of them working to saw his bone across her hard little clit as he scrubbed out her pussy channel with his dickhead. She was so wet and hot...

"Oh, Geoffie... I'm gonna cum... I'm g-gonna cum all over your d-dick... Oh... Oh, fuck me harder..." 

It never took Amy long when he fucked her doggy-style. He grunted and began to slam into her ass hard, brutally, ramming it home as she clawed at the sheets and whimpered. "I'm your fucking slave, Geoff... I'm your sloppy, juicy hole... Oh, God, fuck me harder... I'm so naked for you..." 

He felt her shudder and slip over the edge, and he growled in the coarse animal way that he knew drove her to deeper and more helpless orgasm - and then he threw himself over with her, fucking her fast and hard as he let go and began to shoot inside her.  

Amy shook and jerked and whined as she came on his spurting cock, cumming even harder as she felt her hole grow suddenly slick and sloppy with his gushing sperm. "Oh, Geoffie... I love your cum..." 

Geoff felt the tears spring to his eyes as he watched the delicate young goddess that was the love of his long life struggling in her naked climax, impaled on his bursting cock and adoring it.    She was, impossibly, his, and he jetted his sperm into her heart as he trembled in gratitude and wonder. 

Geoff had fucked her every day for months, and every time was still as fresh and amazing and shattering as the first. He closed his leaking eyes and pounded her deep, squirting the last of his load all over her hidden, secret cervix, deep in her young belly, and he sobbed with joy and soul-wrenching pleasure at knowing she somehow felt the same. 

When they slowed and stopped, he fell to his knees and kissed her pretty feet. Her pussy was dripping with his cum, and his heart swelled with devotion and wonder at the sight as he moistened her pink soles with his grateful tears. 

She twisted round and offered him a small, perfect hand, and he took it and crawled in bed with her. 

"Amy," he choked out, "I'm the luckiest man who ever was." She held him close and kissed his wet cheeks tenderly. 

"I'll be here forever, my love," she whispered shakily, still trembling from her own soul-deep orgasm. "I'm the lucky one. I never knew that love could be this sweet." 

They clung to each other, their hearts overflowing with emotion. "Thank you," they whispered together - then kissed each other with quiet passion. 

Geoff wiped his eyes. "Dammit," he said. 

"What is it?" she asked with a smile. She knew. 

"I've cried more in the last few weeks than I ever have in my life," he rumbled. "I never used to cry at all. Now it's always right below the surface." He wiped his eyes again. 

"You still don't cry when it hurts, do you?" she asked. 

He looked at her strangely and shook his head. Then he smiled. 

"Hurt?" he asked. "What's that?" Then he laughed and kissed her. "Thank you, Amy. You have this way of making everything simple." 

She smiled up at him. "Sometimes it is simple, Geoffie," she whispered. 

He gazed into her eyes and spoke as he thought, thinking as he did so how wonderful it was to trust someone so completely he didn't have to measure his words. 

"I've never cried this much," he said, "because I've never been this happy." He kissed her again. "I didn't know it was possible." 

"Neither did I," she said. She snuggled into his arms. "Hold me, Geoffie. I want to dream about being... Mrs. Geoffrey Rider." She shivered. "Ooo. I can't wait." 

He squeezed her and chuckled. "Well... We didn't wait, Punkin." 

She giggled into his warm, familiar chest. "So we got things a little out of order. So what? I was born too late, too. We had to make up for lost time."

"I think you were born at the perfect time, sweetheart." He kissed her hair, and she sighed and relaxed in his arms. 

"Me too," she whispered. "Cuddle me, old guy." 

And he did. 

--- 

The next day was given over to talk and play. Amy woke up naked and stayed that way; Geoff wanted to do the same, but she insisted that he get dressed. 

"It makes me feel, well, nakeder, when you're wearing clothes and I'm not, Geoffie," she said. "I feel more exposed and self-conscious. You know that." 

He smiled. "Okay, Punkin. I like that too. For you, I'll get dressed." He went off to his room, and Amy went to the kitchen, stroking her belly and sides, enjoying being nude. I do love the weekends, she thought...

A short time later, as she was frying eggs - carefully, standing well back from the sputtering pan - she heard a strange clumping sound, and turned to see Geoff entering the room. The pretty, nude teen doubled over in laughter as his muffled voice said, "How's this?" 

He was wearing hip boots under a parka with a scuba mask and a muffler. He waved a mittened hand and blurrily asked, "How naked do you feel now?" 

Amy was laughing so hard she almost burned the eggs. She finally managed to gasp, "Th-that's - the dumbest - the dumbest thing - I've ever s-seen in my l-life," and then she was off in gales of laughter again.   Geoff clumped back to his bedroom, chuckling, and returned in a few minutes in camo shorts and a T-shirt. He found bacon and eggs waiting at his place at the table, and a naked girl pouring his coffee and still wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. She looked at him and began laughing again. 

The old man grinned. "I thought we'd start the day with a giggle," he said. "Didn't know I was going to get hysteria." 

She kissed his shiny head and said, "I love you, funny man. Want some toast?" 

"Sure." She popped a couple of slices into the toaster and sat down beside him. 

He smiled at her, his eyes traveling up and down her pale, bare body. "Have I ever mentioned how much I love seeing you in your nothing, Punkin?" 

She laughed. "Only about a thousand times," she said. 

He brushed a puffy pink nipple with his knotty old hand. "Well, that's not enough," he said. 

She leaned toward him, and they kissed - a kiss that went on longer than either intended. When their lips parted, they gazed into each other's eyes, until Amy whispered, "Geoffie?" 

"Yes, my love?" 

"Your eggs are getting cold." 

Geoff looked down and grinned. He reached down, stroked her smooth pussy mound, then waved his hand over his plate. "There," he said. "Now they're all heated up again." 

She laughed, kissed his fingers, and started on her own eggs. "Mmm. Salt," she said, and reached for the shaker. "You made me laugh so hard I forgot."

They ate in silence for a few minutes. "You know, this isn't going to be easy, Punkin," said Geoff. 

She looked at the old man placidly. "I know, Geoffie. People will look at us funny." 

"They're going to think I'm your grandfather." 

She smirked. "And it's going to be so much fun to tell them you're fucking me." 

He laughed. "You aren't going to say that." 

"If they're rude I will," she said firmly. "Just watch me. Either that or I'll tell them I'm your naked fucking slave and I love it when you cum on my face every night." 

Geoff was choking on his eggs. "I'd pay to see that," he finally managed to gasp out. 

"I'll do it," said the nude young beauty. "Count on it. If anybody makes fun of us, I'm going to make them eat their hearts out." 

He smiled. "I think they will," he said. "Especially the men. They're going to hate me." 

She giggled. "Geoffie, when we're married, I'm going to show you off to the women and you can show me off to the men. We can make EVERYBODY hate us." 

He looked at her skeptically. "Do I look like Tom Cruise to you?" he asked. 

She told him about the old lady at the concert, and went on: "You're the most attractive man I've ever met, Geoff," she said. "I didn't fall for you just because you rocked me to sleep when I was a baby."

"But-" 

"You keep saying how lucky and grateful and all that you are and how you can't believe I'm yours. Well, you know what, Geoff? There's not a woman in the world that wouldn't trade places with me. You're the best and strongest and sweetest man I've ever even heard of. You're wise and considerate and - and so devoted and caring - and you're the most fantastic and fun lover - and - and - and you're a fucking HERO, for real - and you're humble - and - and - I can't believe you're mine, Geoffie," she finished. 

Tears stood in her eyes. "I'm the lucky one," she said. "I'm just some girl. I don't deserve a man like you." 

He stared at the naked, beautiful, and unique young woman who had just told him this, and could find no words. 

Except three. "I love you," he said. 

"I love you too. And I don't care if people think you're a dirty old man and I'm a stupid, naive infant. We know what we have. Fuck 'em." 

He grinned. "That's my girl."    Then she smiled. "Besides - you ARE a dirty old man. And I love it." 

He smiled, and his eyes traveled over her bare body as they always did. "I love you naked," he said. "I love it that I get to stare at you all I want."

She giggled. "And jack off to me when you want to."

He rolled his eyes. "That too," he said. "OH, yeah..." 

She smirked at him as she went to get the toast. "I have a treat for you later, then," she said. 

"Tell me what it is?" 

She shook her head. "It's a surprise," she said smugly. "Here's your toast." 

As they ate, out of the blue and to Amy's surprise, Geoff began to talk about money and to acquaint Amy with his financial situation. 

She knew he was relatively wealthy, but he turned out to be much better off than she had suspected; his net worth was in eight figures. She was listening closely, but when he began to get into the details of his investments, she asked, "Geoff, why are you telling me all this?" 

He looked at the naked young woman frankly. "Several reasons," he said. "First, you're going to be my wife, Amy, and you need to know this stuff. Second, you're going to inherit my estate someday. Third, you can quit school if you want to."

She blinked. "I-I never even thought of that. Any of it." 

He went on: "Either way, your parents aren't going to have to pay for your school. If you decide to stay with it, I will." He took a sip of his coffee. "That's going to help them, too. Your dad can put all that money into his own retirement." 

She looked at him in wonder. "I never thought of that either." 

He grinned. "What? You thought they'd just keep putting you through school after you got married to me?" 

She blushed a little. "All I've been thinking about is being your wife, Geoff." 

They were finished with breakfast, and she got up to clear the dishes. As Geoff gazed at her sweet bare bottom, he reflected that he would never, ever get used to seeing her nude. He smiled. 

"So what's my surprise?" he asked. 

--- 

Geoff was seated on the couch in the living room, his shorts and boxers on the floor and his hand idly stroking his half-hard cock. Amy was going to pose and dance for him, he knew that much; the bearskin rug was rolled up out of the way to give her a clear space to perform for him. She often began by wearing some sort of provocative costume, and he assumed she was in her bedroom preparing just that. What other surprise she had in store for him, he couldn't imagine. 

He smiled wryly, and his cock began to swell as he thought about it. 

She could just fucking STAND there and I'd shoot my wad to her, he thought. Especially in that teeny G-string and those tasseled pasties... 

He knew how she loved watching him jack off to her - and he had grown to love it too. What a luxury, he thought. Just being free to stare at her and play with himself.... To enjoy the sight of her beautiful body and see how she loved to tease him...

He heard her sweet voice from behind him. "I have a new costume for you, Geoffie," she trilled in a childish singsong. "Are you reeeaady?" 

His cock was rising like a snake about to strike. "Yuh," he grunted, flipping it up and down with his hand, getting it ready. 

He heard her girlish giggle, his favorite sound in the world; and then she skipped - literally skipped - into the room in front of him. 




Canon Ch. 05



A steel rod slid up his dick and it began to pump pre-cum eagerly, anxious for Geoff to begin stroking it. Geoff, his eyes popping, obliged. 

"Jesus, Amy..." She giggled again and posed prettily. 

The cute teen was wearing a wildly exaggerated Sixties hippie look; her long hair was flying loose, with a tie-dyed band around her head. A pair of "granny glasses," with tiny, dark-blue rectangular lenses, rode low on her pretty nose. She wore white lipstick, and had a red-and-orange flower drawn on one cheek.

Her yellow miniskirt was not much more than a wide belt, low on her hips and decent by a quarter-inch. Two stick-on peace symbols capped the tips of her pointy young breasts, and love beads, skimpy thong sandals, and a heavy fake-gold ankle bracelet completed her outfit. 

Geoff was staring and jacking off, his eyes devouring her. She was taking him back to his twenties, but with a lewd and loving edge that the hippie girls of his youth never dreamed of.

"Is that my special treat?" he quavered, his deep voice a bit strained by his masturbation. 

"Nope," she chirped. "This is." She popped a cassette into the CD player, which was itself unusual. 

A strong, rhythmic drumbeat began to pound from the speakers. It was familiar.... 

Just as Geoff recognized it, Amy began to dance - not her usual sensuous belly dance, which he loved, but a wild, frenetic go-go dance that would have not been out of place at Woodstock. The song was "Hang On Sloopy" by the McCoys - recorded in 1965. 

Geoff was laughing and straining at the same time, and his young hippie girl giggled and wiggled to the retro beat as he pulled on his cock and watched avidly. "Recorded these off your Oldies station," she twinkled. "You like?"  

He nodded, staring. She shook her ass and tits and bumped and humped and laughed gaily, enjoying his fevered stare and his delight. 

As the music changed to "Glad All Over" by the Dave Clark Five, she kicked off the sandals and danced and pranced barefoot, which she knew he would love. She crouched and humped her pelvis with her bare feet spread wide, showing him that she wore no panties. 

She tore off the peace-symbol pasties, wincing, and shook her bare young breasts; her nipples were pink and swollen and inflamed from the adhesive. As the music changed again to another driving beat - "Jet Airliner" by the Steve Miller Band - she slid her microskirt to the floor and began to wiggle naked. 

Geoff was goggling at her frantic go-go dance, jacking his hard cock furiously with pre-cum running over his knotty old fingers. Amy squealed with delight and threw away the headscarf and love beads, guessing rightly that he liked the granny glasses and anklet. 

She wriggled over to him to "Devil with a Blue Dress On," pale and bare and writhing, and held out a child's water-based marker. "Decorate me, Geoffie," she simpered. 

He looked at her in astonishment - and then paused long enough to draw sunbursts around her nipples, flames rising from her hairless pussy, and to scrawl "FUCK ME" across her belly. She turned her back to him, and he mischievously drew a spurting cock on her pale back and wrote "SHOOT TO ME" beneath it. 

He then watched, astounded, as she squatted and wrote "SPERM HOLE" on her inner thighs - with arrows pointing to her pussy. 

It was childish and ridiculous and incredibly obscene, and he was gasping and straining to hold back his cum as she bounced and shook to "Satisfaction" by the Stones and "Heard It Through the Grapevine" by Creedence. 

Amy danced like a naked tornado, rocking out and shaking everything she had for his pleasure to all the great party songs; "Fun, Fun, Fun" - "Louie, Louie" - "Land of a Thousand Dances" - "Mony Mony" - "Shout"... 

She turned around and around, showing him her bare, decorated body and wriggling as hard as she could, hopping and stamping and shaking her cute young booty for his straining enjoyment. 

Geoff was having so much fun, he never wanted it to end. Amy was fulfilling fantasies he had forgotten for decades. She was crouching and wiggling lewdly to "Twist and Shout" by the Isley Brothers and licking her lips when he felt his control slipping. 

"I'm gonna cum, baby..." 

She came closer, squatwalking awkwardly on her arched toes, shimmying and shaking for him - and when the music changed to "Gimme All Your Lovin'" and she peeled her pink pussy open wide for him, he grimaced and gave it up.

As his first spurts flew into the air, she slid under him, pulled her knees back, and squealed, "Just follow the arrows, Geoffie!" He stared at the words she had written on her own thighs and moaned as he squirted and spurted all over her naked, exposed crotch as she giggled and twisted happily, trying to catch more. 

"Groooovy!" she trilled, and laughed at his agonized expression. He found himself inflamed to new heights by her ankle bracelet and her slutty-hippie look, and he spurted more and more cum on his naked hippie teen as she squealed and posed and writhed for him. 

When he finally stopped shooting, Amy sat up and licked his cock and fingers clean. "Did you like your surprise, dirty old man?" she teased. 

"You know I did, you nasty little girl," he gasped. Then he smiled at her, shaking his head in wonder. "How do you DO that?" 

She looked up at him as she smeared the flower on her cheek, nuzzling his wet cock. "Do what?" 

"Always something new to shock me," he said, still breathing rapidly. "Something to drive me crazy and make me shoot a gallon of cum. God, I love you." 

She kissed his dickhead and got up. "I guess I have a dirty mind," she said demurely. "Or maybe I just love you so much I can read your dirty mind."

"Whatever it is, it works," he rumbled, and opened his arms. She sat on his lap, smiling as she snuggled her bare bottom into his softening dick, and kissed him deeply. 

They kissed and touched and caressed each other for a while, heedless of the streaks and blobs of his cum all over her. Finally, he murmured, "Better let me wash all those decorations off you. And I think I better scrub your clit and pussy hole nice and squeaky-clean, too..." 

"Mmm." She got up and shivered fetchingly in front of him. "I want you to soap me all over and make me squat in front of you and watch your eyes while you feel me up, Geoffie," she whispered. "I want you to watch my face while you make me cum." 

He picked her up and began carrying her to their shower. "How come what you want is always what I want?" 

--- 

He had her put the ankle bracelet back on after their shower, that and her glasses. "I like it," he said as they snuggled on the couch before lunch. "It sets off your bare little feet just right." 

"I like it too," she said. "Makes me feel more naked. And you know how I love that." 

The old man grinned. "I'll buy you one made of real gold next week," he added. 

He thought for a moment. Then: "That can be your slave uniform," he said, nodding. "On the weekend, you wear that, and your glasses, and nothing else. It'll remind you that you're my naked fuck-toy." 

"Okay," she said, her strange eyes sparkling. "I like that. My naked-slave chain." 

Then he smiled slyly. "Well, you'll wear those, and your sweat, and my cum. And maybe some more decorations." 

She smirked. "Did you like that?" 

"Made me crazy," he admitted. "My pure, sweet, perfect, innocent Amy, with filthy shit written all over her beautiful body." 

"Stars on my nipples and fire coming out of my pussy," she whispered, blushing. "And 'FUCK ME' on my tummy." She shivered. "That made me feel so nasty..."

"You ARE nasty," he whispered, slipping a finger up her pussy. "You're always wet and ready to fuck. And you love it. You want it. All the time. You're a slave to my cock." 

She nodded, opening her bare legs to his touch and blushing even redder. "I'm your naked slut, Geoffie," she breathed. "Your warm wet pussy...." 

"And you'll do anything." 

"Anything..." She pumped her hips hungrily. "Anything, Geoff...." 

"Good." He withdrew his finger and sucked her juices from it. "Fix me some lunch." 

She blinked at him in shock, then laughed and slapped his shoulder. "Yes, Master," she said ironically. 

She got up and walked naked to the kitchen. "How about a juicy, piping-hot pussy hole with fresh cream sauce?" she called over her shoulder. 

"I had that yesterday," he called back, and they both laughed. 

--- 

They relaxed in the pool through the afternoon; it was a warm day in late fall, probably one of the last they would enjoy. The old man loved the sweet ritual of protecting Amy's delicate skin - covering her with strong sunblock from her pretty face to her pretty toes. 

They lazed in the sun and the water and talked of the day to come. "How do you think your dad is going to take this?" asked Geoff. 

"No idea," said Amy. "I can't even guess." She looked at her lover's leathery old face. "You've known him longer than me, Geoffie. What do you think?" 

The old man thought. "I think - I think he'll be shocked, first. After that - I don't know, Punkin." 

She rolled over and lay on him, her chin on his chest. She looked up at his turkey neck and smiled. "It'll be okay, Geoffie," she whispered. "Somehow it will. If we can make them understand what we have..." 

He stroked her hair. "Maybe we shouldn't just spring it on him out of the blue. Maybe..." He thought, and Amy stroked his chest and waited. 

He looked down at her. "Amy, I'm going to call your mother and give her a heads-up. But you can't be there. Are you OK with that?" 

She smiled. "Of course, Geoffie. I trust you completely." 

He smiled. "Okay. Later. Right now I want to watch you ride Honey." 

"Ooo, Geoffie..." She shuddered, then looked at him, puzzled. "Wait. How are you going to do that?" 

He grinned wickedly. 

---

The bike was set up in the middle of the yard, with its rear tire lifted off the ground on a rack made for the purpose. The front tire was held in place with wooden chocks. Amy stood naked in the grass and looked at it fearfully, the tip of one pretty pinky in her mouth. 

Geoff had set a comfortable chair behind the bike, where he would have a perfect view. "Oh, Geoffie... I'm going to cum so hard with you watching me..." The nude beauty was trembling, her nipples hard and her inner thighs already slick. "How long are you going to make me take it?" 

He growled it at her: "As long as I want, nasty girl. Now get on it." 

He helped her climb onto the bike, facing backwards this time, and put her bare feet on the high footpegs. When she leaned back to grasp the saddle behind her - her only option for support - she felt a thrill of delicious embarrassment at her total exposure. "Oooh, Geoff... You can see everything..." 

And indeed he could. She was virtually squatting on the narrow seat, her bare legs cocked up high and spread obscenely wide. Her bare chest was thrust forward, her breasts blatantly displayed. 

Only her pussy opening was hidden - because it was firmly pressed into the curve of the narrow leather ridge that served as her seat. Her bald mound and a hint of her vaginal crease was on exhibition. 

And she was outdoors, out in the open. Amy had never felt so horribly, wonderfully exposed and naked. 

Geoff looked at the shivering girl affectionately. She loves this, he thought; and once again - How could I ever be so lucky? 

He started the bike, twisted the throttle to gun it once or twice, then let it settle back to a rumbling idle. The vibration was deep and strong at the low RPM, and his cock was growing hard again as he looked down at the steel frame. It was blurry, shaking so hard and so fast his eyes couldn't focus on it.

Amy was already staring at him desperately, biting her lip and whimpering. She was grinding her pussy into the hard saddle, her bare, widespread legs quivering. 

He knew what she wanted. "What's the matter, Amy? That doesn't feel GOOD, does it?" She closed her eyes and grimaced, gritting her teeth at the intense stimulation, at her exciting exposure, at her naked helplessness and sexual submission.

Geoff sat down to watch - and as an afterthought, he stood up, removed his shorts, and sat down again, fondling his cock as he watched the show. Amy saw, and her mouth opened in even greater passion and hunger. 

"I expect my slave to keep her composure," the old man said silkily. "No crying or moaning allowed. In fact, we're going to have a nice calm chat."

"Oh, G-God..." 

"Tell me, my darling - what are you wearing?" 

"M-my slave chuh-chain... My g-g-glasses... Nothing eh-else... I'm nuh-nuh-NAKED..." 

"And where are you?"

"Out-outside... I'm sh-showing eh-everything, outsiiide - and I'm g-gonna cuh-CUM..." 

"No, no - no cumming till I give you permission, slave girl. If you cum before I tell you to, I'll make you ride Honey like that as I cruise all around town. So don't cum, sweetheart. Hold it back - unless you want to cum in front of everybody." 

She whimpered, shivering at the vibration - and at the thought of cumming naked on the back of a Harley on a public street. 

"I'll t-try...."

She shuddered, and he smiled. They both knew she'd never make it. 

Amy was glistening in the sun as if she were oiled, sweat pouring from her pale body. She was shaking and jerking at the vibration tormenting her pussy and bending her mind. 

She was trying to lift her pussy away from the saddle slightly, to ease the intense pressure - but Geoff caught her: "Oh, no, no, no, Punkin. Keep that sweet little pussy nice and tight against that seat. Thaaat's right - mmm, nice and snug. Feel that big old bike love you..." 

The shivering nude pressed her pussy against the vibrating ridge obediently, and fought to keep from cumming. Geoff stroked his stiff bone, enjoying her torment. The beautiful young girl, his lovely property, fighting to keep from orgasming... Posed and stripped to his order... 

"How very unladylike," he said coolly. "Young girls are supposed to be modest and bashful, you know - but look at you!" 

She was shuddering in sexual agony. "Please let me cum, Master," she pleaded, pumping her bald wet hole against the growling, shaking machine. "Please... Oh, please..." 

"What's wrong, pretty Punkin? Is your pretty pussy juicy and hot?" 

"Please, Geoffie... Master..." The naked girl was dripping with sweat and hunching desperately, begging him with her eyes.

He stood and ambled over to the bike, where he took the throttle in his hand. 

"Oh, no... Please..." 

He smiled down at her cruelly. "Say the alphabet, slave. When you're done, you can cum." 

She stared up at the weathered old face above her, squinting as if in pain -and began, her voice small and strained: "A... B... C..." 

"Backwards," he said. "And slowly." He grinned as the desperate nude grimaced and shivered, nodding rapidly. 

Then he twisted the throttle, increasing the vibration on the naked girl's bare, wet hole. 

"Oh, G-God... Z..." 

He twisted and blipped the throttle in a random rhythm, making her grimace and gasp. 

"Y..." 

He turned it up to the max, making the big V-Twin race. "X...." 

She was weeping with the strain and the pressure, struggling to hold it back - and slipping. He twisted the throttle again. 

"Unngh... Oh, God... W..." 

Twist. Roar and rumble. 

"Unnh... NnnNNgh.. V..." 

Her bare little toes were clenched on the footpegs and quivering. The old man reached down and peeled her pussy lips back with two fingers, baring her swollen clit and forcing her to press it directly against the shaking ridge of leather. 

"G-Geoff... I c-can't..." 

"Don't cum, bitch!" he growled threateningly. "Don't you dare cum!" 

"C-can't hold it," she cried, then grunted and shuddered, screwing herself down onto the saddle and giving up to her gushing, jerking orgasm. 

He growled into her ear as she came: "I'm going to ride you all over town, little girl - just like this - tits out and pussy hanging open - barefoot and buck naked, wide open and wet, right down the middle of Fraternity Row - while the boys stare and cheer you on - 'CUM, AMY, CUM! CUM, AMY, CUM!' They'll be taking pictures..." 

The poor girl cried out and spasmed in boiling electric climax, convulsed by the intensity of the vision and the crushing pressure of the vibrating saddle. Geoff kept blipping the throttle and holding her lips open, and she finally burst into tears and shuddered wildly, leaning against him and hunching like a maddened animal against the cycle in a shattering super-orgasm, just as he intended. 

Geoff caught her and turned the key. The big bike sputtered to silence, but Amy kept hunching - and to his shock, she gasped, "No... More... I'm not done..." 

He turned the key, stomped the starter, and held her as she finished, scrubbing her dripping pussy against the soaked, shaking leather ridge and sobbing into his chest. He held her as she slowly came down, and when he turned the bike off again, he felt her nod against his chest. "Th-thank you..." she gasped. "Thank you, Geoffie... That was so hot..." 

She was still gripping the saddle behind her. He gently pulled her hands from it - and she laughed weakly. "I was pretending I was tied to it," she quavered. 

He cuddled her. "Next time, you will be," he rumbled, and she mewed like a kitten and groped for him blindly. 

"Y-yes," she breathed shakily. "Yes...." She relaxed against him then, limp as a rag, barely conscious. 

He carried her into the house, where he bathed her tenderly and laid her naked in their bed. "Sleep till dinner, love," he whispered. 

She moved toward him vaguely. "Hold me?" she asked in a tiny voice. 

He had planned to make his call to Ellie, her mother: but, he thought, who could resist that? 

He slipped off his T-shirt and shorts and slid into bed with her, where she fell asleep in his arms instantly.    --- 

They sent out for Chinese, just for a change. Amy was still too weak to cook. 

As they ate at the table - sesame chicken, sweet-and-sour shrimp, Hunan beef, noodles and fried rice - they talked quietly. 

"Are you going to be OK for this tomorrow?" he asked. "Maybe I shouldn't have made you ride Honey the day before we go." 

She looked up at him, her strange eyes sleepy and relaxed. "I think it's just what I needed, Geoffie." She smiled lazily. "I'm not the least bit tense or worried now." 

He looked at her mock-critically. "To be honest, Punkin, you look like you're a little drunk."

She giggled weakly. "Drink on love, maybe." She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, lifting her bare breasts as she heaved a deep sigh. "You're so good to me, Geoffie. You make me cum so hard." She opened her eyes and smiled at him warmly. "Dirty old man." 

"Nasty little naked girl," he replied with a warm smile of his own. 

--- 

He hummed her to sleep early, letting the Canon soothe and calm her. The old man held her till she was breathing slowly and deeply, soft and warm and relaxed beside him. Then he kissed her forehead lightly and slipped out of bed. 

Geoff sat in the lone chair, where he had first watched her dance for him. He watched her sleep and thought. 

After a time, he got up and walked quietly to his study, where he sat down and, with only a second's hesitation, punched in a number on his phone from memory. 

He waited. 

"Ellie? It's Geoff. Do you have a few minutes?"



Canon Ch. 06



Ellie opened the door and gestured, come in. Geoff and Amy entered the house, and she embraced her daughter, then her old friend. She nodded at Geoff with a smile that was only for him - and then gave Amy one, too. 

The girl wondered what lay behind it, and what Geoff had told her. 

"Come," she said. "He's in the living room." 

Frank, Amy's father, sat on the couch with a worried expression. When the three entered, he stood and hugged his daughter, then shook hands with Geoff. 

"What's up, Sarge?" he asked. "Don't tell me this isn't working out." 

The old man smiled. "Sit down, Soldier," he said. "This may be hard to hear." 

The taller, younger man sat, his expression even more worried. "What is it, Geoff?" 

The older man dragged up an armchair and sat down opposite his godson. "Frank," he said, his deep voice soft, "I want you to take every bit of trust and respect - and love - for me that you've ever had, and hold in in your mind, and listen to me." 

Frank blinked at him. "That's a lot, Geoff. You've been a father to me, and more." He watched the old man's face. "I'm listening." 

Geoff nodded. He looked at the two women watching and smiled; then he turned back to his friend, took a deep breath, and spoke.

"Frank," he said, "As strange as it sounds - as wrong as it sounds..." 

He looked at his shoes, then back at his friend's eyes. "I love Amy, and Amy loves me, and we're going to be married." 

Frank sat back, grinning; but when the older man did not smile back, his grin faded. 

"Wait. You're serious...?" Geoff nodded. 

Frank's face was blank. He looked at his daughter. "Amy...?" 

"It's true, Daddy," she said. Her voice was strong and clear, which surprised her. "I love Geoff. And he loves me. We could have kept it secret, but we don't want to hide it from anybody. We want to do it right." 

Her father's face was growing red, and she could see his anger building. He turned on the older man. 

"This is how you repay my trust?" he hissed. "This is how you protect my little girl? By taking her for yourself?' 

"Daddy..." 

"It wasn't like that, Frank-" 

Frank rose from his chair and punched the older man in the face, full force. Geoff saw it coming, but made no move to defend himself. 

"Daddy! No!" cried Amy, moving toward Geoff. Frank swung again, but the old man caught his fist easily and held it. 

"One is enough, Frank," he said, his voice a soft rumble. "Now sit down and hear us out. Give us that much." There was an angry red mark on the old man's lined cheek, and he was bleeding slightly from a cut below his eye. 

"Why should I?" the younger man roared. He towered over Geoff, who released his fist and looked up at him calmly. "You manipulated my daughter - you wanted her - you don't care about her or Ellie or me..." 

"It wasn't like that, Daddy," said the girl. "You know us both better than that." She moved to stand behind Geoff and looked up at her father. She put her hand on the old man's shoulder. "Don't you?" 

Frank hesitated, confused, but still furious. "I thought I did," he finally said. "Now I'm not sure." 

After a moment, he sat down. "I never thought you'd betray me like this, Geoff." His eyes were dark, his brows still drawn down in anger. "I never thought that was in you." 

"It isn't." 

All three looked up. It was Ellie who had spoken, still standing to the side. 

She came closer and sat down by her husband. "Frank, do you remember when we were first married - and it wasn't going so well?" She put her hand on his.

Puzzled, Frank nodded. "What does that -" 

"I left you for a couple of days. Remember?" 

He nodded again. "You said you went to a friend's." He was watching her carefully now. 

She nodded. "I did. I went to Geoff's place." 

The younger man whirled on his old friend again. "Did you-" 

"No," said Ellie. "He wouldn't have it, Frank." 

He looked back at her. "I threw myself at him," she went on. "But he wouldn't have it. He convinced me to go back to you and work it out." She smiled. "And he was right." 

Geoff was looking at the floor; Amy squeezed his shoulder, and he patted her small hand. Now she knew. 

Frank was staring at Ellie, struggling to understand. She gestured. "Look at Amy, Frank. And think about me, twenty-five years ago." 

His mouth dropped open, and he stared at his friend. "He could have-" 

"Yes. He could have, honey. But he wouldn't." She looked at the old man, and at her daughter. "And that's how I know he wouldn't do that now, either, not just for himself." She kissed her husband's cheek. "I know him, Frank. So do you. And we both know our daughter. And I trust both of them." 

She sat back and shrugged. "This is strange - but I can't see that it's wrong." 

"Daddy," said Amy, "Remember how you told me I was wise for my age?" He reluctantly nodded. "Well, I haven't gotten stupid since then. This isn't something I'm doing because I'm a silly little girl. I know it's right. I know it." 

Frank shook his head, still struggling. "But - but he's..." 

"Old," said Geoff. Frank looked at him. "Don't you think I've thought about that, too? I wish I wasn't so old. Amy deserves a younger man, who'll be with her longer. But there it is. I can't change that." 

"Daddy?" said Amy. He looked at her again. "Take Geoff's and my ages out of it for a minute." She smiled at the old man who was her lover and stroked his bald head. "Do you know a better man?" 

Ellie put her hand - as small and white as Amy's - on her husband's again, and squeezed. "She has a point, Frank," she said. "Do you?" 

The younger man looked at his friend, and then his daughter, and his eyes filled with tears. "But she's my little girl, Sarge," he said. "How would you feel?" 

The old man looked up. "Same as you," he said. "But - I swear to you, Soldier - I'll keep her safe and protect her and provide for her and -" he grinned up at the girl - "and spoil her, and love her and make her happy for as long as I live." 

Frank opened his mouth to speak, but Geoff stopped him. "And I know that won't be long - not as long as we'd like, anyway. But whatever time I have left, I want to spend it with Amy at my side. And she'll be very well provided for after I'm gone." 

Amy spoke up. "I love him, Daddy. And I want to be with him, too. Till the end." 

She and Geoff looked at each other, and the love between them was apparent. "We know how strange this looks to other people. But - well - now is the only time we have, any of us. Whatever time we have together is a gift. And I won't give Geoff up just because we were born fifty-two years apart." 

She blinked and looked at her parents, and they realized that she had only partly been talking to them. 

She's had to convince him, too, thought Frank. And that insight began to soften his resistance. 

Geoff looked down for a moment, then up again. "She's changed me, Frank. I've always been a hard man. Cold, in some ways. I'm sure Tina told you that, Ellie." She nodded. 

"But Amy's made me - soft. Warm. I feel things I never felt before. I..." He swallowed. "I cry all the time now." The girl looked at him admiringly; she knew what it cost him to say that. 

"I love her with everything that's in me," the old man went on, "and believe me, I don't understand what she sees in me either. But whatever it is -" He shook his head. "She's the most precious and wonderful thing that's ever happened to me. And I won't give her up either." He squeezed her hand, still on his shoulder, but he wouldn't look at her. Everyone knew why. 

"I'm happy for Amy, Frank," whispered Ellie. "And I'm proud of her, too. Think about how brave she was to come to us. How honest. Both of them." 

Frank looked at her, wiped his eyes, and slowly nodded. "You're right," he finally said, then looked at Amy and Geoff. "You're all right. I know love when I see it." He smiled, his eyes still wet. "it's going to take me a while to get used to this. But - okay." He looked at Geoff. "But you better take good care of her, Sarge." 

The old man smiled. "I told you, Soldier. With my life. I didn't know what I was saying then. But now I do." He offered his hand. Frank shook it, then rose, pulling Geoff up too, and the two men embraced. Mother and daughter did, too. Afterward, the younger man smiled sheepishly. "Sorry about the punch, Sarge." 

The old man waved it away. "You were entitled," he said. 

"Speaking of which," said Ellie, who then rose and left the room. 

"Can I call you Dad now?" asked the old man with a cautious grin, and Amy giggled happily. Frank laughed as they sat down. 

"You better give me some time on that one too," he said. 

Ellie came back in with a Kleenex, some antiseptic, a Band-Aid, and a bag of frozen peas. Geoff sat docilely as she wiped the tiny scratch clean, applied the bandage, and handed him the peas. 

He held the bag to his cheekbone. "Thanks, El," he said. "It's no big deal." He saw Frank's look, and added, "Hey, I didn't say it didn't hurt." 

The younger man lifted a hand. "I guess after bullets and bombs, it didn't amount to much. I'm really sorry, Geoff. You're the one man in the world I least want to hit." He smiled at his daughter. "Especially now." 

She came over and hugged him. "Thank you, Daddy," she said. "It'll be all right. You'll see." 

Then she turned and looked at both her parents. "Speaking of bullets and bombs..." 

Geoff put his head in his hands. "Oh, shit," he mumbled. 

"Did you know Geoffie was awarded the Medal of Honor?" 

Her mother grinned. 

"'Geoffie'?" 

--- 

On the way back, Amy snuggled up to Geoff in the car and leaned her head on his shoulder. "I'm glad we took the Camry, Geoffie," she murmured. 

"Why is that, Punkin?" 

"The Jag has bucket seats. I couldn't get this close to you." 

He put his arm around her for a moment and gave her a squeeze, kissed her hair, then returned his hand to the wheel. 

"I think that went okay," she said after a while.

He chuckled. "Easy for you to say," he said. "You didn't get punched in the eye." 

"Well, except for that... Does it hurt?"

"Hurts good. I have you now. Right out front and in the open. Straight up, no hiding and no bullshit." He smiled in the light from the dashboard. "It was worth it." 

Then he glanced down at her. "Everything was worth it, Amy. To be here with you, now.... " He squeezed her again. "My whole life. Everything that's ever happened to me." He looked back at the road curving away into the dark before them. 

And everything that ever will, he thought. 

"Mmm," she murmured. "I love you too, Geoffie." 

He wondered what lay ahead as he watched the road unfurl before them. Then he remembered what Amy had taught him. 

Tomorrow, he thought. 

He smiled. 

And tonight... 

--- 

But they went straight to bed when they got home. It was late, and Amy had an eight o'clock class the next morning. 

As she snuggled naked into his arms, Geoff asked, "What did you and your mom talk about when you went off together?" 

She giggled. "We were planning a wedding, silly." She nuzzled his chest. "I swear, she's as excited as I am." 

"What's to plan? We find a judge, we get married." 

"Oh, no, you don't. It'll be small, but I want my white dress, Geoffie." She snuggled closer. "And my canopy of crossed swords to walk under." 

He kissed her head. "Done, Punkin. Whatever you want." 

She sighed and relaxed in his arms. "What were you and Daddy talking about while we were wedding planning?" 

"You." 

"Mm?"

"We had a couple of beers and came to an agreement."

"What?"

"That you're the most wonderful and perfect girl in the world and we both love you more than life itself." 

She giggled. 

"It's true, baby," he whispered. "You are. And I do." He pulled her close and kissed her - and her lips opened under his. 

Some time later, she whispered into his mouth, "Make love to me, Geoffie?"

"Uh-uh. It's after midnight, and you have an early class. Time for sleep now." 

"Aww..." She wriggled against him in protest. 

"I'll make it up to you tomorrow, Punkin. I'll fuck you breathless." 

"Promise?" 

"Promise. C'mere, let me hum you to sleep." He reached out to the nightstand and turned on the Canon, and she contentedly crawled on top of him and laid her head on his chest. 

They both went to sleep smiling. 

--- 

They were up at their usual six-thirty, and as they normally did on class days, they separated to brush their teeth, dress, and so on in their respective bathrooms. Showering had become an evening ritual, since that allowed them more time to enjoy it. 

But when Geoff entered the kitchen, he found Amy making French toast in nothing but her glasses and ankle bracelet. 

"You're going to be late for class, Punkin." 

"No, Geoffie." She smirked at him and shook her bare bottom in his direction. "I'm cutting all my classes and I'm going to go naked for you all day. I missed my slave girl Sunday. So there." 

He sat down in ironic shock. "Amy Madigan, lifelong straight-A-plus student, cutting her classes," he said, shaking his head in wonder. "Surely the Apocalypse is upon us." 

She giggled and brought him his French toast and coffee. "Call it our engagement party, Geoffie," she said. "And I'm going to do all my favorite things." 

"Which are?" She even makes perfect coffee, he thought, taking a sip and enjoying the sight of her plump, hairless pussy mound.

"Dancing naked for you till you spurt all over me. Sucking your dick till I swallow your cum. Creaming all over your cock while you shoot in my pussy. Maybe riding Honey around the yard till I can't walk straight. And showing you your cum hanging out of my pussy after we fuck in the steam room." 

He looked at her with an affectionate, skeptical smile. "You do realize I'm a very old man, right?" 

She moved her bare feet wide apart, put her hands behind her head, crouched, and began to bump and shimmy sensuously for him with her chin turned shyly into her shoulder. "I have faith in you, Geoffie," she whispered. 

"Jesus, Amy," he said, feeling his cock hardening in his jeans. "Let me finish my breakfast, at least...." 

--- 

Twenty minutes later: 

"Th-this wasn't on my l-list..." 

Her bare feet were on his shoulders as he held her pussy open and licked and sucked at her glistening pink hole hungrily. He smiled as he whipped her swollen clit and made her whimper, then paused long enough to say, "No, but it was on mine." He returned to worshiping her sweet young pussy, slipping two fingers into her spasming channel and making her gasp. 

As the naked teen shivered and rolled her hips up at his tongue, he sucked on her bare clit and felt a deep satisfaction. 

The most precious thing in the Universe is here in my mouth, he thought. My Amy's sweet pussy. 

He licked her tender pink tissues with gentle passion, and she whimpered and spread her pale thighs even wider, opening herself to him. He kissed her clit reverently, then pressed on either side of it, exposing it completely for his mouth - and he paused and looked down at it in wonder. 

The naked girl whispered, "Don't stop, Geoffie..." and he bent back to his second-favorite work. 

His whole world was concentrated in the tiny nubbin in his mouth, and he sucked and licked and kissed it lovingly, not forgetting to slide his tongue around and into her hot, wet opening as well; and a moment later, he decided that Amy's giggle was not his favorite sound in the world after all. 

It was her high, sweet child's voice quavering, "Geoffie, I'm g-gonna cuuum..." and her gasps and soft cries as she did. 

He twisted and wriggled his fingers inside her pussy and scrubbed his rough tongue around and around and up and down on her swelling, trembling button, doing his adoring best to keep her at her peak as long as he could. 

Amy shuddered and jerked at the intense sensations at her center, humping intimately at her gentle lover's mouth... So good, so good, she thought: he's so good to me...

"Oh, eat me, G-Geoffie... Eat me till the s-sun comes up..." 

He chuckled into her pussy and mumbled "But the sun just came up, Punkin," without losing contact. 

She giggled shakily even as she came - an endearing sound. "I kn-know..." 

--- 

They snuggled on the couch afterward. Amy was still shivering, and she sat up from Geoff's embrace for a second to look down at her pussy curiously. 

"What is it, Punkin?" 

"I wanted to see if it's glowing," she said. "It feels like it is." They both smiled, and she added, "I love the way you eat me, Geoffie." 

He laughed and squeezed her tight. "I could kiss your pussy for hours, Punkin." 

She wriggled in his arms contentedly. "Mmm. Sounds like fun," she murmured. 

He chuckled, a deep drumming that passed through her body and made her quiver. "So what do you want to do now?" he asked. "Your day, sweetheart." 

She smiled and nuzzled him. "Just lie here naked in your arms and feel loved," she said softly. 

Then, more softly: "I'm going to be your wife, Geoffie." She hugged him. "That makes me so happy I can't say it." 

He rocked her in his arms. "Me too, my heart. Me too." He smiled, his wattled chin on her head. "Amy Rider," he whispered. 

She cooed and shivered. "Ooo...." 

--- 

And less than a month later, she was. 

Their wedding was hastily planned, but perfect for all that. Though they had intended for it to be a small personal affair, Amy's insistence that it be a military wedding, with a Marine honor guard, allowed the word to get out - and the Methodist church where the ceremony took place was filled to standing room only, with many attendees in uniform. 

Geoff was resplendent in his dress blues, wearing his Medal of Honor, his other decorations, and his sword. He stood proudly at the altar, with Colonel Johnston beside him - also in his dress uniform - as best man. 

When Mendelssohn's "Wedding March" began and the congregation rose to their feet and turned to face the rear of the church, Geoff gasped. 

Amy, walking slowly and gracefully on her father's arm, was radiant. Her wedding dress - which had been her mother's - was stunning; lace over silk, with a high collar and long sleeves, and long enough to trail behind her on the carpet. Her hair, long, loose and shining, was graced with a pearl tiara from which her long veil hung like a cloud. 

With her perfect skin, full, pink lips and long lashes, Amy needed no makeup; but for that day, she wore a little anyway. And she was breathtaking, with her disturbing eyes sparkling and her smile like the rising sun. 

No one but she and her mother knew that beneath her sweet and modest wedding gown, Amy wore nothing at all. Under the long dress, she was barefoot and sweetly naked. Amy had told her husband-to-be of what she would wear beneath her dress - and when he caught a glimpse of her bare little toes peeking out below the hem of her gown, Geoff's heart melted at her love and devotion. 

As he watched her draw closer, he was not ashamed of the tears that flowed down his weathered old cheeks, no more than her father was ashamed of his. 

Their vows were traditional; the only difference was that they did not look at the minister once as they took them. Their eyes were on each other's faces - young and smooth, old and weathered, but both wearing the same look of pride and adoration. 

Amy's ring was small and plain and made of platinum. Geoff's hands shook a bit when he put it on her small and lovely finger - and then he lifted her hand and kissed it tenderly.

When the minister pronounced them husband and wife, and Geoff lifted her veil to kiss her - he touched her face, as if to make sure she was real. Those who sat nearby could see why. She looked like an angel, and her eyes were only for him. 




Canon Ch. 06



Their kiss was sweet and lingering, though not inappropriately deep; and when they turned to face the congregation and make their way back down the aisle, there was one more unusual occurrence. 

Everyone present stood and applauded, and there were few dry eyes watching them as they walked toward the doors. A few watchers caught a glimpse of Amy's pretty bare feet, and smiled. They guessed rightly that it had a special private meaning for the unusual couple. 

Amy's little feet were spared the rough sidewalk on the way to their limousine, though. There was a blue carpet laid. There was also a double row of young Marines in dress uniform - ten men and two women - waiting on either side of it. 

As they exited the church, the young sergeant who led the honor guard gave the command - and the Marines smartly unsheathed their swords, held them upright before their eyes, and then crossed them high above the carpet. 

Geoff and Amy smiled at each other, then began walking together beneath the steel salute to more applause. To the watching crowd's delight, they stopped and kissed again under the last pair of blades - sweetly and properly, again. 

But once they were safe behind the tinted windows of the limousine, their kiss was rather longer and more intimate. They gazed into each other's eyes afterward, hands clasped between them. 

"Hello, Mrs. Rider," the old man whispered. 

"Hello, husband," the young girl whispered back. 

--- 

They did not stay long at the reception, where they received congratulations and good wishes from the few dozen invited guests - and where Amy, following tradition, was kissed by a lot of envious soldiers. 

After the traditional cutting of the cake and feeding it to to each other - Geoff declined to press it in her face - Amy tossed her bouquet, which was caught by a laughing young woman in Navy uniform. Geoff fired a garter from his fingertip like a rubber band into a group of grinning Marines. Everyone assumed that he had removed it from Amy's leg in the limo. He hadn't. 

Amy danced with her proud, damp-eyed father, and then with her husband as her father took the floor with her mother. 

After the first dance, at Geoff's suggestion, they changed partners. Frank was delighted to hold his daughter as they danced for a few moments more. 

As they danced, Geoff looked into Ellie's eyes, so like Amy's, and murmured, "You know, Ellie, I never told you how hard it was for me to send you back to Frank that time." 

She looked up at him, shocked, then delighted. "Thank you, Geoffrey," she said. "That makes me feel good." She squeezed the old hand that held hers. "I'm glad you did, though."

He smiled back. "It was the right thing to do." 

"Yes, it was," she said. And as the music ended, she added, "But I'll tell you something, too." 

"What?" 

She beckoned with a pretty finger, and Geoff bent till she could whisper in his ear: 

"I'm happy for Amy, Geoffrey - but there's a part of me that envies her, too." Then she kissed his old cheek. 

He kissed hers in return. "Like I said, Ellie - it wasn't easy." Then he whispered, "And now I can stop envying Frank." He tipped her a wink, and she blushed like her daughter. 

They smiled at each other as their respective spouses approached. "It's nice to have a good relationship with your mother," said Geoff, and Frank and Amy laughed at Ellie's gasp. 

"That's right!" she said, her strange eyes wide. "I have to be a pain in the ass now!" 

The four laughed, and Geoff turned to Amy. "Ready to go, Punkin?" She nodded, eyes sparkling. 

"Back home? You bet," she said, blushing. 

"Home? Who said anything about home?" Geoff grinned at her, while her parents exchanged smiles. 

"Huh? What's going on?" The bride looked at them suspiciously. 

"You just got married to an old rich guy, Amy. Did you think you weren't going to have a honeymoon?" It was her father speaking, and both men were grinning. 

Amy looked up at her new husband suspiciously. "Geoff...? What haven't you told me...?" 

He smiled. "You have almost two weeks before classes start again, sweetheart. Think blue ocean and white sand. Palm trees. A million stars. Waves on the beach. You know." He winked at her. "Paradise." 

The look of sweet surprise and pleasure on the pretty teen's face was unforgettable. "Oh, Geoffie - really?" 

Her mother giggled. "I'm sorry - I just can't get over "Geoffie'."

Amy bounced up and down witn excitement. "Where are we going? Hawaii? Jamaica? The Virgin Islands?" 

Geoff dismissed all those with a wave and a sound of disgust. "Phooey. Tourist traps? Not for my Punkin and me." He looked into her amazing eyes. "We're going to our own private island, love. Just you and me and the sea birds." 

"Ooo!" she squealed, and hugged him. As she did, she breathed into his ear, "I'm not going to need my bikini, am I?" He smiled and winked, but said nothing. 

"Okay, you two. Your coach awaits," said Frank. "And if memory serves, you have about two hours till your flight." 

Amy blinked. "Am I packed?" 

"Our bag was in the trunk at the church, Punkin," said Geoff. 

"Oh..." 

Our bag? Only one? she thought.

Much hugging - "You're really family now, Geoffrey-" "Take care of her, Sarge-" more handshaking and congratulations, and finally off to the limo again. 

Amy found an old pair of jeans, a threadbare shirt, a pair of thong panties, and some skimpy sandals on the seat. Geoff closed the partition behind the driver's seat. "Better get changed," he said, and took his own jeans, shorts and Marine T-shirt from a storage cabinet. 

It was almost an hour's drive to the airport. When Amy slipped out of her wedding gown and sat there naked, Geoff couldn't resist. He pulled off his own clothes, and the newlyweds enjoyed their first married fuck in a moving limousine. 

Amy was squatting on the wide leather seat, impaled on her new - old -husband's bare hard cock and French-kissing him as she undulated her hips on it. Geoff lay back and enjoyed her slippery hole as she slid it up and down on his bone, clinging to him and gasping. 

They could see out through the tinted windows, but no one could see in; and Amy was shuddering-hot at the illusion of fucking virtually in public. 

"Oh, Geoffie," she quavered, "I can't believe we're married... And I can't believe you're fucking me in the middle of town..." 

"Mmm, jack me off with that sweet wet pussy, Punkin - hunch it - oh, look, there's a crowd of people watching us..."

Sure enough, at least two dozen people were staring at the limo from either side as they stopped at a red light. Geoff made her turn around and fuck him facing outward, with her back to him, exposing her to the eyes that seemed to be watching. Amy whimpered and rose toward her orgasm as Geoff held her arms back and teased her: 

"Ooo, Amy, bounce that pretty bare pussy for everybody - jiggle those tits - let 'em watch you cum naked - you're such a cutie - look at 'em watching while I shoot in you..." 

Amy cried out and began to shake, and Geoff felt her sweet hole grow wetter and grip him like a fist as she creamed all over his dick. He grunted and filled her shaved pussy with a heavy load; he hadn't shot for two days as they prepared for the wedding.  

As he rammed deep into his new wife's hole and felt it ripping out of him, he growled into her ear: "Rub your clit while they watch you cum..." 

Amy did as she was told. As she rubbed her nubbin desperately, she shuddered with her intense orgasm, grunting and staring wide-eyed at the strangers who seemed to be looking directly at her. She finally collapsed back onto Geoff's lap, shivering, and he embraced her. "You can stop rubbing now," he said. 

"In a m-minute... Hold me..." 

Amazed, Geoff held the naked teen as she continued to masturbate. She gasped and hiccuped and twisted till she came again in his arms, jerking and making small animal sounds of fulfillment; then she finally turned and hugged him. "Oh, G-Geoffie," she gasped, "That was so nasty... So good..." 

He stroked her smooth skin from her sticky pussy to her nipples. "Better get dressed soon, Punkin. We're almost at the airport." 

She pouted. "Can't I get on the plane naked and dripping?" Then she giggled. "Is there anything back here I can use to clean up?" 

"Your brilliant husband thinks of everything," he said, and took a damp cloth and a dry towel from compartments where he had placed them. 

She kissed him. "I love you," she whispered. "You're so good to me." 

"I love you," he said. "You're such a hot piece of ass." 

She giggled and slapped his chest, then let him clean his cum from her crotch and thighs. 

She wondered at the old clothes he had chosen for her as she dressed; but they were comfortable, and she asked no questions. 

--- 

At the airport, they had no luggage to check; they had one carryon, and nothing more. A little light for a two-week honeymoon, Amy thought, but again she said nothing. A couple of bikinis and sundresses would do... 

The plane ride was long; they flew first class, though, and had plenty of room to relax. They talked quietly and cuddled, and read a little. During the night, she slept in his lap after he softly hummed the bass part of the Canon to her. 

The flight attendant was puzzled at first by the strangely mismatched couple, but finally decided that they were cute together - and that the old man was hot. She woke them up to tell them they would be landing at Papeete in a short time, and to remind them to get in their proper places and fasten their seat belts. She was amused to see that the pretty young woman had to button and rearrange her clothing a bit first - and blushed as she did so. 

They were the last to leave the plane. As they approached the door, the flight attendant said, "Have a nice vacation." 

Amy smiled at her and said, "Honeymoon" - and then laughed at her shocked expression. The woman looked at Geoff, who smiled and winked at her. 

"Con-congratulations," she said, her eyes wide. Then she recovered a bit and said, "I can see you're very happy together." 

"Miss," said the old man in a deep rumble, "you have NO idea." 

The woman looked at Amy, who obeyed a wicked impulse and licked her lips lewdly. "You can't IMAGINE," she stage-whispered, and rolled her eyes. 

The attendant looked back at the old man in astonishment. He grinned and winked at her again - and then they were gone down the jetway. She looked after them, blinking in amazement. 

---

A two-hour connecting flight by seaplane took them to the isolated island, which had no name. It was perhaps a hundred acres in extent, and the only signs that humans knew of the place was the small dock where the plane let them off with their luggage and a grass shack farther up the beach. 

They watched the plane fly off to the east, then turned and faced each other. 

"Here we are, Punkin," said Geoff. "Just you and me and the sand and sky and sea." 

She giggled and came into his arms. 

---

Geoff carried the bags to the hut as Amy walked beside him, barefoot in the warm sand. They entered the hut, and Amy gasped. "It's perfect!" she said in a tone of wonder. 

The one-room shack was rustic, made of bamboo and thatched grass. There was no furniture, only an overstuffed mattress on the floor and a collection of cushions scattered around the room. She was surprised to see a small modern refrigerator in one corner, and a wooden cabinet. 

When she opened both, she found them well-stocked with food. A small electric lamp stood on top of the refrigerator. She turned it on, and it worked - it had perhaps a 15-watt bulb. She looked at Geoff questioningly. "Solar panels on the roof," he said. "Those are the only electrics. We'll be cooking over an open fire on the beach." 

She giggled with delight. "Where's the bathroom?" 

He showed her the unusual outhouse; not as smelly and unpleasant as most, it was based on a Swedish dry-composting toilet, and it required her to mount a flight of steps to get inside. 

Nearby was the spring. It bubbled from a hole in an artificial rock, not unlike the fake rocks by their pool back home, and guaranteed them a copious supply of fresh, clean water. Nearby was a black-painted ten-gallon barrel hung from a palm tree, with a shower-spigot beneath. 

Amy realized that the water in the barrel would be warmed by the Sun - and that this was her shower, out in the open and completely exposed. She shivered, anticipating bathing outdoors. 

"What did you pack me to wear, Geoffie?" she asked. He grinned. "Let's see." 

They went back inside the hut. Geoff opened one side of the carryon and dumped it on the mattress. 

There were her toothbrush, toothpaste and mouthwash - her shaving gel and razor - her shampoo, conditioner, brush and comb - a few other cosmetics and personal items - and a second pair of skimpy sandals. 

That was all. 

She looked up at him, smiling warmly. "You ARE going to make me go naked the whole time," she said. "You didn't even bring any clothes for me. All I have is what I'm wearing." She hugged him and shivered. "Oh, Geoffie - I'm going to be your naked island girl, for real, for two wonderful weeks. And I love it." 

He stroked her smooth back, braless beneath the old polo shirt. "So do I," he whispered. "You're mine now, Mrs. Rider. And I want you as bare as a baby while you get used to being my wife." 

They kissed, long and deeply. "Let's see what's in my side," he said with a grin.

He dumped the contents of the other side of the carryon beside hers. It contained his own toothbrush, razor, and so on, a couple of pairs of ragged cutoffs and a T-shirt or two, and another pair of Asian sandals. 

"So you'll be dressed, and I have to go naked," she said. Then she giggled. "I like that." 

"I know," he said. "Come on, let's build a fire." 

---

There was a half-cord of firewood under cover at the side of the hut, and a ring of rocks for a firepit on the beach, well above the high-tide mark and well away from the hut. The old soldier had a crackling fire going in short order, and they sat by it and snuggled as the sun went down. 

She lay in his lap - her favorite place - and they kissed, relaxed and unhurried. "Mmm. I love you, Geoffie. I'm so happy." "Me too, Punkin." Kiss. "I've never been happier." Kiss. "Not ever." Kiss. "And I've been around a while." Kiss, kiss. 

"Mmm...." She snuggled close. "And I'm going to love being naked for you." 

"That reminds me," he said. "Take off your clothes." 

"I thought you'd never ask." The pretty girl stood and looked around nervously - which was silly, she knew - and kicked off her sandals. After a second's hesitation, she pulled the shirt off over her head, then pulled down her jeans and panties. 

It was the first time she had stripped for him outside their home, except for the limo ride - and this was outdoors. She shivered and stood naked on the beach, wearing nothing but her glasses, and looked at Geoff expectantly. 

He leaned over and picked up her clothes - then grinned and threw them in the fire. 

"Geoff!" she cried, squealing and reflexively trying to cover herself. "What am I going to wear when the plane comes back?" 

"I left a change of clothes with the pilot," he said. "He'll bring them, and he'll wait while you get dressed." "But, Geoffie - now I don't have anything!" 

The old man looked at the trembling young beauty. "I want you to feel helpless and completely exposed, Punkin - with no hope of covering yourself. More naked than you've ever felt." He grinned wickedly. "How'm I doing?" 

She crept back into his arms, shivering. "P-pretty good," she whimpered. "Geoffie, I feel so BARE!" she whispered urgently. 

He slipped a finger into her smooth pussy. She was dripping-wet. "Hmmm," he said. "Seems to be working..." 

She was shivering in his arms. "It is," she breathed. "Geoffie, it's exciting - but it's so scary! There's no way I can cover myself at all! For two whole weeks! In a strange place!" 

He kissed her. "And I love that, sweetheart," he murmured. "I told you - I want you self-conscious and embarrassed and scared. You've been getting a little casual about being my slave girl. It was either this or a ride through town on Honey." 

She shivered again. "Ooo, Geoffie - feel me up and tell me where my clothes are...."

He did. As she spread her pale bare legs for him to stir her wet pussy and stroke her clit, he whispered, "Ten thousand miles away, Amy. You're bare-pussy naked in the middle of the ocean, and you're stuck that way." 

She whimpered and humped her hips up at him. "You're such a m-mean master - didn't even b-bring a bikini for me..." 

"I want you to think about that while you squat on my cock, Punkin," he said. "Right here on the beach. Right now." 

She trembled as she unfastened and pulled off his shorts, then crouched over him and guided his hard dick into her fever-hot opening. She sank down on it slowly, still looking around self-consciously. 

"Mmm," she moaned. "It feels so good... Ooo, Geoffie, make me fuck naked..." 

"Bounce on it, Nature Girl," he growled. "Rub your clit on it and hunch on me. Show me how nasty you are." 

The pale, unclothed teen slid her squeezing, grasping tube up and down on his stiff bare dick, eyes closed in ecstasy. "No clothes for hundreds of miles, Amy - sandals and glasses are all you have - you aren't even wearing any pussy hair - your cute little asshole is showing..." 

She whimpered and bounced faster. "Nnngh," she grunted. "I'm a naked fucking slave... That's all I am, Geoffie... I'm just a bare wet pussy hole... No clothes at all... Fuck me...." 

Amy was excited to near madness by her predicament. She had never felt so helpless and vulnerable - and she adored it. "Before it was, I WON'T get dressed, Geoffie," she panted. "Now it's - I CAN"T - Oh, God, I CAN'T put anything on - I HAVE to go NAKED..." 

As Geoff smiled at her excitement, she shuddered and bent forward and began slapping her wet crotch against his. "Tell me again, Geoff - Master..." 

She was pumping him desperately, hungrily, shuddering on the ragged edge - and he pushed her over: 

"You're a naked little girl, Amy, shipwrecked on a desert island without any clothes, barefooted and buck naked - and you're stranded alone with a dirty, horny old man, and you have to fuck and suck my nasty old dick any time I want you to..." 

She cried out and collapsed on him, vibrating again, but this time involuntarily. She shook like a leaf in the wind, making an inarticulate squealing sound as her pussy clenched and gushed on Geoff's quivering cock. He had never felt her cum so hard. 

"Keep fucking, naked little girl," he growled. "Fuck till I tell you to stop. You're my naked little sperm pump and you've got nothing to wear but my dick...." 

She came hard for more than a minute, till he began to shoot in her grasping, milking pussy - and that tipped her over again. Geoff held her tight as the sperm rose up and rushed through his cock and blasted into his naked young wife's sloppy, spasming hole - and she cried and held on to him and pumped her orgasming tube on his squirting cock till she sobbed with the sensation and with the overflowing love she felt for her husband, her hero, her master, her man. 

They held each other for long moments afterward, breathing hard, nothing between them but love and sweat. 

"Jesus, Amy," he whispered. "I knew this would get you hot, but - Jesus," he said again. 

She clung to him, still trembling. "I love it, Geoffie," she gasped. "I love this. I'm yours and I'm so naked and you're in my pussy and I'm full of your cum and - and this is what I was made for." 

"I wanted to have you for these two weeks, Amy," he whispered. "Just you. Nothing else. No clothes. No jewelry. No makeup or hair clips or even bikinis. Just my precious Amy, nothing but you, my love, my darling, my life." He kissed her sweaty temple. "Just you." He kissed her cheek. "My wife."




Canon Ch. 06



She murmured softly: "I'm yours - my husband, my love, my hero. All of me. Just me. Anytime you want me naked, I'm naked." She snuggled into his arms and gave his softening dick a squeeze with her sticky pussy. 

They snuggled in silence on the beach, both of them enjoying the intimate feel of his cock slowly slipping from her pussy - and then the even more intimate feeling of his cum oozing out of her and over them both. 

"Mmm. Dirty old man." 

"Mmm. Naked little girl." 

---

They kissed and stroked each other as the fire burned low. It was dark, and had been for some time; night comes quickly in the tropics. 

"I have an idea, Geoffie. When we get back, burn all my clothes and keep me naked forever." 

He chuckled deeply and squeezed her. "How about if I buy a big safe and we keep your clothes in there? You don't get to know the combination. Just me." 

"Ooo! That sounds fun," she giggled, and twisted on him sensuously. 

They snuggled a little more. Then, Geoff whispered, "Baby girl, I have another surprise." 

She shivered. "What is it? Something else sexy?" 

"Not this time." He rolled over, taking her with him so she lay on her back. "Look at the sky." 

She did, and gasped, a long, amazed intake of breath. "Oh, Geoffie... It's... It's beautiful!" 

The moon was not yet up, and they were very far from land or any source of light. Anyone who has ever seen a truly dark sky knows what Amy saw, and what astonished her so. 

The sky was filled with stars, as it can only be seen far from the city. The Milky Way was a river of light, and there was not a fingernail's width of darkness anywhere in the black velvet sky that did not contain a dozen, or a score, or a hundred stars. The bright ones of the constellations stood out like diamonds, and Amy understood for the first time how men of ancient times saw heroes and beasts and gods there. 

"This is what the sky looked like to our ancestors for a hundred thousand years, Punkin," he whispered. "When the only light was fire." He kissed her. "I wanted to bring you here to keep you naked and make you my own. But I wanted you to see this, too." 

He rolled off her, and she snuggled close, her eyes dreamy behind her lenses as she continued to look up. "It's so beautiful, Geoffie... Like you and me." 

He stroked her face. "No," he said. "Just you, Amy. Just you." 

"You're beautiful too, Geoffie," she whispered. "But I meant what we have together." 

"Oh, yes," he breathed. His old eyes crinkled in a smile. "Oh, yes." 

They lay on the beach and looked at the stars till the Moon rose in a thin crescent. "Oh, good," said Geoff. "We'll have the stars all night, the whole time we're here. It's almost New Moon, and we'll have dark skies for two weeks." 

"We don't get a full Moon to fuck under?" she asked with a mock pout. 

He grinned. "Next year I'll schedule it." 

She sat up and looked at him with delight. "We can come here every year?" she asked. 

He smiled. "We can come here every month if you want, Punkin," he said. "I told you - this is our own private island. We own this place. Call it my wedding present." 

She gaped at him. "We... We own it? It's our island?" He nodded. "But... But how... It must have... You can't... It's a whole island, Geoff!" 

He laughed and hugged her. "I don't have as much in CDs as I did, sweetheart. But I got a good deal." He smiled at his young Venus. "For you - to have you in this place - I'd have paid three times as much and not blinked." 

She looked around. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open. "We could live here," she breathed. 

He stroked her lovely arm. "We could," he said. "And you'd never wear clothes again." 

She fell into his arms, squealing with delight. "Not all the time, Geoffie," she laughed. "I like pizza too much. And your house." 

"Our house," he said softly. 

She smiled at him warmly. "Our house. And our pool. And our steam room. And our bed." She twinkled at him. "And Honey." She snuggled close. "But I want to come here a lot, Geoffie. I want to be your naked castaway girl - a LOT." 

He kissed her head. "You will be," he rumbled. "And speaking of bed - let's have a starlight swim and then see what the one in the shack is like." 

They ran down the beach and splashed naked in the breaking waves, then back to the hut. "Let's drag it outside and sleep under the stars," she said. 

They did just that. The mattress was an enormous, old-fashioned featherbed, and Amy sank into it as if it were a huge pillow. "Whoo!" the girl cried. "This is amazing!" 

Geoff flopped down beside her and laughed. "It's like me, Punkin. Old school. I haven't slept on one of these in fifty years." Then he grinned. "And never with a pretty naked girl." 

Amy snuggled comfortably into his arms. "Dirty old man," she whispered. 

After a moment, she said, "Oh, foo," with a petulant air. 

"What?" 

"We can't listen to our Canon in D."

He got up and went into the hut, just a few steps. Amy sat up. "Geoffie? Where are you going?" 

He came back out, grinned, and held up an MP3 player and two small speakers. "Did you think I'd forget that?" he asked. She laughed with delight as he placed the speakers on either side of the mattress. Then he stood for a moment and looked down at her, half-lying on the soft cushion, pale and bare and beautiful. 

"I love you so much, little girl," he said softly. "I can't believe you're really mine." 

She lay back and posed prettily. "Come here and let me make you believe it, old guy," she breathed. 

They kissed and held each other under the stars as their beloved Canon played softly. Sweet caresses and soft sighs, murmurs of contentment, whispers of love. Finally, they lay quietly, watching the Milky Way wheel slowly above them. 

"I love you, Punkin... Mrs. Rider." He squeezed her. "Amy Rider. My darling wife." 

"Mmm. My husband. My hero. My wonderful lover. I love you more." 

"No chance," he said, and they laughed softly and kissed again. 

They lay together in silence; the Canon had ended. The old man thought she was asleep, till she whispered, "Geoffie?" 

"Yes?" 

"I've never been so happy." 

He kissed her hair. "Neither have I, little heart. Neither have I." 

"'Little heart.' I like that." She nuzzled his chest. 

"Come, little heart. Sleepy time." She nodded, smiling sleepily, and crawled on top of him. He started the Canon again and hummed her to sleep; then he moved her gently beside him and drifted off himself, gazing at her perfect face in the dim starlight and listening to the soft rush of the surf.

Thank you, God, he thought. Thank you... 

--- 

Amy woke the next morning as the Sun rose, exquisitely conscious of her total lack of clothing from the first moment. She shivered and rubbed her bare thighs together and felt her own breasts and belly and hips. "Naked," she whispered to herself, and shivered again. 

She smelled bacon, and sat up to see Geoff, wearing cutoffs, squatting by the fire. 

She came up behind him. "Hey, I'm supposed to be the cook." 

He turned and smiled up at her, his eyes traveling up and down her bare, pale body. "Good morning, naked girl. Not here. This is camp cooking, and you get a two-week break." 

"Ooo! Okay," she said happily. "What's for breakfast? I want some hot squirty cum." 

He laughed. "You'll have it," he said. "But bacon and eggs first. And biscuits." 

"Biscuits?" He opened a Dutch oven that was sitting on some rocks at the edge of the fire and showed her. 

She sat down on a towel he had put out for her. "Geoffie, if you're so good at this kind of cooking, why didn't you do it at home?" 

He smiled. "Just for myself? Not worth the trouble. Besides, it's always brought back bad memories. Doing it for you..." He shrugged. "It takes the curse off." 

"Bad memories?" 

He looked at her with affection and a hint of pain in his old eyes. "The last time I cooked over an open fire," he said softly, "it was on a hilltop in the jungle, I had two bullets in my back, and I was cooking a snake." He looked at the bacon and eggs. "The guys around me were in worse shape than me." 

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I didn't mean to remind you." 

He looked at her thoughtfully. "That's okay." Then he smiled at her bare bald pussy. "Besides, the circumstances now make it easy to forget." 

She smirked and gave him a sensuous wriggle. "I'm going to belly dance for you on the beach, Big Heart," she said. 

He grinned. "I love you, Little Heart. Here, grab a plate. It's ready. There's coffee, too. But it's really strong." 

Biscuits with butter, bacon, notably greasy eggs, and strong coffee. Amy savored every bite. 

After a bit - when they were almost finished - Amy asked, "This is really good, Geoffie. Where did you learn to cook like this? The Corps?" She put her empty plate aside and looked at him curiously. 

He chuckled around a mouthful of eggs. "Boy Scouts," he said, amused. 

She smiled at him knowingly. "Don't tell me. You were an Eagle Scout." 

He actually reddened a little. "Guilty," he said. 

She laughed, leaning back and kicking her bare little feet in the air. "I knew it! And I bet you got every merit badge." 

"Not quite," he said, laying his own plate on the sand. "I never got the one for raping cute little naked girls on the beach..." 

She squeaked and jumped to her feet as he got up, crouched, and approached her with his hands out and a feral grin on his craggy features. "I'm gonna getcha pussy, cutie..." 

Amy ran, but not too far; Geoff quickly caught her and pulled her wrists behind her back. 

He whispered in her ear: "New fantasy. You don't know me. I'm going to rape you. You like it?" 

"Yes, Geoffie," she whispered back. "I love it - fuck me hard - make me do it for a stranger..." She was already wet and gasping with excitement. 

"Say 'red light' if I hurt you or if I go too far," he whispered, and she nodded. 

Then he pulled her wrists up behind her back and growled, "I'll teach you to run around naked like that, you little cunt. You're gonna get fucked till you can't sit down." 

"No... Please... Don't hurt me, mister... I can't help it, I lost all my clothes..." Amy was into it instantly, playing it to the hilt. 

"Tough shit," he rasped, grinning, and whipped off his web belt. He tied her wrists behind her with it, then roughly forced her to the edge of the trees. She realized that there was grass there, not sand and rocks. He was going to rape her, but he wouldn't hurt her. 

She felt comforted and terrified, safe and vulnerable, fearful and excited, used and adored, all at once. "Please don't hurt me, mister," she whimpered, enjoying every second of it. 

He forced her to her knees by pulling down on a tender nipple, then dropped his shorts and knelt behind her. "No, please... Don't... I'm a virgin..." 

"Not for long, bitch," he rumbled. He slapped her bare, perfect ass, hard, pushed her face into the grass, and laughed at her helpless position - with her ass up in the air and her cheek on the ground, hands tied behind her back. He pushed her knees apart roughly and pressed down on the small of her back, forcing her to roll her hairless pussy up at him. 

"No clothes, a shaved wet pussy, and ready to fuck," he growled with satisfaction. "And not a damn thing you can do about it, baby." He guffawed at her in his deep voice, then took his stiff, bare cock in his hand and began to swipe it up and down between her wet, quivering pussy lips. 

"No... Oh, no... No, please..." 

He laughed cruelly and shoved it in - all the way in, impaling her to her cervix in a single electric instant; then he began to saw his cock in and out, fucking her deep and hard and rough. 

The helpless girl struggled and screamed, realizing she could be as loud as she liked. "AAAUGH! NO! Don't FUCK me! UNNGH, it's so BIG!" She struggled and twisted, working her pussy on his invading cock and squeezing it in protest, thrilled by the feel of his hard dick rudely screwing its way into her tender wet hole. 

He pounded her hard, slamming his hips into her quivering ass, spearing her over and over without mercy. "Take it, you naked little cunt!" he grunted. "Fuck like a whore! Not a virgin any more, are ya? Take it!" 

She fought to keep from cumming, but he laughed and fucked her harder. "Pleeease!" she squealed, crying real tears. "Pleeease stop! Stop raping me! Pleeease, mister!" He growled and fucked her faster. 

She shuddered and struggled and gave it up, and he laughed as his bound and naked victim orgasmed helplessly and hard. He fucked her even harder, and wouldn't stop when she began to come down. "Oooh, G-God..." 

He held onto her bare hips and pounded her relentlessly, and the poor girl shook and struggled and rose toward another forced orgasm... 

He laughed and fucked her. 

And another... 

Finally, with Amy weeping and jerking in yet another shattering, pussy-clenching cum, he roared and jetted his boiling load into her dripping hole, grunting brutally in time with his powerful spurts: "UNGH! Take THIS, you LITtle CUNT! TAKE it ALL! You NAKed BITCH! I FUCKED you GOOD!" 

When he was done, he finally untied her wrists and fell on the grass beside her. She moved over and fell on top of him, gasping. 

"G-God, Geoffie... That was fantastic..."

"Literally," he grunted, gasping himself and grinning. She laughed tiredly. 

"I've never b-been raped before, Geoff," she panted, looking down at his rough old face. "if it's y-you... I like it." She kissed him, her lovely cheek still gritty with grass and dirt on the right side. "You can rape me anytime you want."

"Mmm," he murmured. "My perfect, perpetual victim. Ready to scream and cum whenever I want to cram it in you." He patted her bottom. "Lovely." 

She smiled shyly. "I can't do anything about it anyway. Good thing I think it's fun." 

He hugged her. "You are such a wonder," he said into her pretty ear as he stroked her skin. "Did I hurt you?" 

"A little," she said. "But that just made it real. You can be rougher than that with me if you want." She licked his cheek. "I'm your naked fucking hole, Geoffie," she whispered. "Any way you want me." They lay in the grass for a time, and Amy closed her eyes and enjoyed the sun on her nude body. Geoff watched her and smiled, admiring her beautiful face, her perky cones pointing at the sky, her smooth, pale skin. "What CAN'T I do with you?" he finally asked. 

"Nothing, love," she said without opening her eyes. "But I know what you WON'T do." 

He cocked an eyebrow. "What?" 

"You won't hurt me. Ever." 

"But you just said I did." 

"That was fun hurt. Doesn't count." She smiled. "I saw how you took me here, to the grass, before you fucked me. You didn't want the sand and rocks to hurt my knees." 

He tweaked her nipple. 

"Ouch!" She opened her eyes and looked at him. "What was that for?" 

He grinned. "Don't get all secure, Punkin. I'm not done with you yet - and you still don't have anything to wear for two weeks." 

He leaned over, his rugged old face inches above her smooth young one. "I'm going to take you to places you've never been before, Amy," he murmured, his deep voice distant thunder. "If you're not afraid now - you will be." He smiled down at her, and she lifted a hand and pulled his face down to hers and opened her mouth to his. 

After a long, lazy, wetly intimate kiss, she whispered, "I am afraid, Geoffie. I've been trembling inside ever since you burned my clothes. But I trust you, too." 

She kissed him again, lightly. "It's exactly like you said - you're taking me into scary places where I've never been before, and I'm stark naked and barefoot and unprotected, except by you - and you're the one taking me there." She rolled her strange eyes and shivered. "It's really scary, Geoffie - you're so different from me - but it's so delicious." 

She opened her thighs; his knobby old finger was gently stirring her young, bald, cum-sticky pussy. "Yeah, like that," she breathed. "I never know when you're going to touch my clit and make me give you my pussy. That's scary, Geoffie. But I love it. I love being your naked toy." 

The old man hugged her. "My Little Heart," he whispered. "My naked toy, and my reason to live."

--- 

The two weeks seemed to last forever. Geoff loved and cared for Amy in that wild place, and she spent every moment in quivering awareness of her forced nudity and vulnerability. Every time he spoke or looked at her, she felt an electric thrill of fear and anticipation - and often enough, it was well-founded. 

He tied her to palm trees and tenderly tortured her for hours, using ice cubes from their small freezer and feathery leaves and tweaks and pinches and his fingers and tongue to keep her on the edge or orgasm till she was weeping and begging him to let her cum; or he pushed her hard and commanded her not to, cruelly massaging her bare, exposed clit, exploring her liquid hole with his fingers and cock, and twisting her nipples as she fought to keep from cumming. 

She danced on the sand for him, as naked as an animal and reveling in it; and she was his human cum-rag, catching his load any way he wanted. They fucked every day, in the sand, in the water, in the sun and under the stars. 

And they spent long quiet evenings by the fire, holding each other in the flickering light to the sound of the surf, kissing and touching and dreaming of more - and knowing they could make every dream come true whenever they wished. 

The day finally came to leave - and the pilot forgot to bring Amy's clothes. 

After a few minutes of delicious panic, she put on one of Geoff's old T-shirts. It was decent by three inches, and she got in the seaplane with bare legs and a pink face. 

The long plane ride home was made even longer for Amy; all she had to wear was the T-shirt, and everyone knew. She couldn't stop blushing - and she struggled to cum quietly when Geoff felt her up under their blanket. 

--- 

Back in the big old house, Amy lifted and lowered herself on her husband's cock in their steam room, clinging to him in nothing but sweat, Geoff stroked his naked young wife's slippery skin and kissed her shoulders. 

"Good to be home," he whispered over the hiss of the steam. 

"Y-yessss," she gasped, preoccupied with the feel of his stiff dick in her pussy as she rose and fell on it. "I'm g-gonna cuh-cum, Geoffie," she quavered. He held her close and moved subtly, knowing he was not far behind her. 

"Tomorrow it begins, Little Heart," he whispered, cradling her smooth, sweaty bottom in his gentle old hands. 

"What b-begins?" 

He kissed her throat as she quivered, tensing for her ride down the slippery slope. "Happily ever after," he murmured. 

She shuddered and slid over. "Oh, y-yessss... Yes, love... Yes... Oh, fuck me, Geoffie, I'm c-cumming..." 

"Unngh... Me too...." 

She squeezed him with her most intimate muscles as they peaked together, both of them lost in his spurts and her spasms, clinging to each other in the searing fog. 

"Ungh... Love you..." 

"Mmph... My life..." 

--- 

In bed, that night: 

Amy lay naked on her husband's chest, nuzzling him and stroking him. His skin felt delicate and loose, but the muscles beneath it were hard and strong. 

Their Canon began, and Geoff echoed its slow foundation of bass notes with a deep humming - and his young wife sighed and relaxed on him as he held her. 

He stopped humming long enough to whisper, "Welcome home, Punkin."

She smiled and kissed his chest, and he stroked her like a kitten, from shoulder to thigh. "Mmm... I hear my Big Heart beating," she breathed. 

It beats for you, Little Heart, he thought as he hummed. 

And for the first time, it occurred to him; he would be with her forever. 




Canon Ch. 06



Even when I'm gone, he thought. Somehow - some way - I'll be with you, my love. I'll never, ever leave you. 

No fear. No sadness. His place was here, in this life and the next. 

He did not move her that night. He held her as she slept, lying nude on his body, as peaceful and trusting as a baby. 

And the Canon in D swirled around them as they slept - youth and age, strength and beauty, innocence and experience, love and honor. They smiled as they slept, together even in their dreams.



Canon Ch. 07



One year later: 

"Want a Coke, sweetheart?" Geoff spoke from the kitchen, where he had gone to get one for himself.

"No, thanks. But hurry up. I miss my leaning cushion." 

He chuckled and returned to the couch where Amy lay on her back, holding a book in the air and reading. She was wearing shorts and a tank top, and was barefoot. 

Without a word, and without losing her place, she sat up; Geoff resumed his seat beside her; and then she settled back again with her head resting comfortably in his lap. 

"Much better," she said with a twinkle up at him. Geoff took a sip from his Coke and stroked her hair - what was left of it. 

Amy had cut her hair not long after their return from their first trip to the island; then she had cut it again, and again, till it was almost boy-short.  

She put down the book and looked up. "You miss my hair, don't you, Geoffie?" 

"Sometimes," he admitted. Then he smiled. "But I don't miss your waking me up screaming when I roll over on it at night - and I know it's a lot less trouble." 

"Way," she said. Then she smiled slyly. "And I know you like that it doesn't hide anything when I'm naked." 

He grinned. "That would be accurate," he said. "That's why I went along with it when you first cut it. Besides, you look cute with short hair." 

She rose up a bit, and he bent to meet her halfway and kissed her; then she went back to her book, and Geoff picked up his own. 

Before he opened it, though, he asked her curiously: "What are you reading that's so fascinating, anyway?" 

"'Warning signs of the onset of dementia in seniors'," she said, without taking her eyes from the page. 

"Like this?" She lifted her gaze to see him looking down at her cross-eyed with his tongue sticking out of one side of his mouth. 

She laughed out loud. "Exactly," she said. "We need to take you in for an MRI right away."

He kissed her again. That was as close as they ever came to discussing the reason for her studies directly. 

---

Amy had essentially dropped out of college; but she continued to take courses in nursing and related fields, one or two a semester. She took them with no view to obtaining a degree or RN certification, though. 

Geoff saw the paperwork and could see the common thread of the classes that Amy took; they were all related in some way to caring for the elderly. But they never discussed it openly.

--- 

Amy had put the book aside and was dozing, her cheek resting on Geoff's thigh. He sipped his Coke and watched her sleep. 

How long would it be? he thought. How long till she needed these things she was studying? 

How long till she would be feeding him and changing his diapers and wiping his ass?

She's ready for that, bless her, he thought. 

But am I? 

Then he remembered what he had come to think of as Amy's Lesson: 

That's tomorrow; and tomorrow doesn't exist. 

Only today is real. 

He smiled and stroked her cheek. She opened her amazing eyes and looked at him - and, as always, his mind fell silent at the sight of them. Pale blue and deep brown. Sweet innocence and - not innocence... 

"Hey, Punkin. How about a shower?" 

She smiled. Innocently - and not. 

---

They still made love daily, or almost; but the slave-girl fantasy had receded into the background. Though they indulged it occasionally - and Amy still insisted on going naked and barefoot every weekend - for the most part their sex play was more about affection and intimacy now. 

The rape fantasy was even shorter-lived. It was there for them when the mood struck, but it rarely did - and in the last few months, never. It had been fun once or twice, but that wasn't who they were. 

They had explored many strange and bizarre avenues of sexual expression; bondage and domination, risky sex in public, roleplaying - "burglar and housewife," "teacher and student," "cop and shoplifter," even "blind date" - but in the end, there was no greater pleasure for them than simply being together, whether making love, or her dancing for him, or just snuggling. The games were fun, but they needed none. 

And besides their bed, there was the shower, and the pool, and the steam room, and riding Honey.... 

Their sex life was far from monotonous. 

--- 

Ten minutes after thinking about their future, Geoff was very much in the present moment. 

He was slumped on the tiled seat in their shower, naked, with his erect cock sticking up like a telephone pole; and Amy, also naked, was kneeling between his feet and busily soaping it with both hands. 

His deep voice quavered, "T-two..." 

"Slower, Geoffie," she said sweetly. She squeezed and twisted his soapy dickhead with that random, rhythmless, inexpert motion that she knew drove him crazy. "What's your hurry?" 

"Unnngh... Two, dammit..." he rumbled. Amy giggled and scratched him lightly behind his balls and milked his bare knob mercilessly. She sucked and licked under the base of his cock, where it rose from his ball sac, nibbling and chewing at that sensitive spot softly as she continued to twist and work her soapy fingers on his dickhead. 

"Three... Oh, Jesus... God, that's good..." 

"Don't lose count, Geoffie," she murmured into his balls. "You'll have to start over..." 

"Ngh..." 

She giggled again. "Hold on, Big Heart. You only have to make it to twenty-five!" 

"I c-can do it... F-four..." 

She suddenly popped her pretty mouth over his dickhead and sucked on it, circling her head and bobbing it up and down. "MmmMMmmMmm..." 

"No fuh-fair.... Ungh..." 

"MmmmMMMmmmMMM..."

"Unnngh.... UNNH... G-gonna sh-shoot, baby..." 

"MMMMM-MMMMM-MMMMM-MMMMM..." 

Geoff shuddered and jerked, and Amy smiled around his dickhead as he spurted in her mouth. He stared down at her, and she looked up at him innocently as she worked her tongue on the tiny, squirting hole and sucked. His cum leaked from her lovely lips and drooled from her chin. 

He grimaced and moaned, and she kept on sucking and working her mouth on his bursting cock - and when he stopped shooting, she released his dick from her mouth, smiling sweetly at him and licking his sperm from her lips. 

"You lose," she said with a cum-dripping smirk. 

"And you cheat," he gasped, still shivering. "How'm I supposed to hang on while you hum on my dick like that?" 

She laughed. "That's your problem, tough guy. You lost. Now pay up." 

He sighed. "Two-hour back rub, coming up." 

"With oil." 

"Yeah, yeah. " 

He smiled as they dried each other. Win, lose... Fun either way. 

"I love you, Little Heart." 

She smiled. "Bring the oil, Geoffie." 

--- 

Their lovemaking was as apt to begin with a caress over dinner or a welcome-home kiss when Amy returned from class as with a planned encounter or a fantasy. He would stroke her arm or kiss her fingers, or she'd give him a hug or grab his ass, and their eyes would meet - and they might go on with what they were doing, or they'd kiss and hold each other and slowly grow more passionate - or they'd be seized with urgent need and strip each other feverishly, ending up in bed or on the floor or in the shower. 

Their moods seemed to reinforce each other and increase in depth, a sort of echo effect. If one felt warm and quietly affectionate, they both did, and they would make love gently and slowly, with a quiet, sweet tenderness and closeness that brought them to ecstasy with embraces and caresses and sometimes tears of joy. 

But if one felt fiercely aroused and eager, the other would play into that, and they would goad and provoke each other to fiery, animalistic rutting, and they would cum amid grunting and hissing and groping at each other and hot breath and sweat. 

Or one would need to be seduced or teased or tempted by the other. They had specific needs from time to time: in particular, Amy would want to be cradled and tickled and petted like a child, and eventually cajoled and fondled into accepting Geoff's hard cock into her secret opening, and she would fuck him shyly and timidly, as if it were her first time. 

Or she would need to climb onto him and all but force him to fuck her, as she did that second morning - doing her best to drive him mad with lust and pull his cum from his balls with everything she had. 

That morning, of course, they did not fuck at all. They did what they liked and what pleased them. 

---

A few days later, Amy was walking toward her car after class. She noticed a tall, distinguished-looking man in a blue suit waving at her... Now who...

Oh, of course! she thought. It was Colonel Johnston, Geoff's best man at their wedding. She waved back - and then, on impulse, she held up a hand; wait. 

He stood there on the sidewalk in front of Symphony Hall as she hurried over. "Amy, it's so good to see you!" he exclaimed as she drew closer. "How's Geoff?" 

"He's wonderful," she said with a smile. "World's best husband." 

The retired colonel smiled. "I'm so glad you're happy. Geoff deserves it." He looked at her curiously. "What can I do for you?" 

Amy hesitated. "I'd like to ask you something," she finally said. 

He smiled indulgently. "And what's that?" 

"Colonel..." 

"Please call me Johnsty," he said. "Everyone does." 

She smiled and nodded. "Johnsty - can you tell me what Geoff did to win the Medal of Honor? He refuses to discuss it." 

The colonel's smile faded. After a moment, he asked, "Do you have a little time? Or do you have a class?" 

"No, I have time. I was just on my way home." 

He indicated the Student Union a short way down the street. "Let's get some coffee." 

--- 

They took a booth in a far corner of the dining room. After they sat down, Colonel Johnston looked at her seriously. 

"Amy," he said, "the first thing you have to know is this: Geoff can never know that you know this." 

She blinked at him. "Why not? You mean it isn't just about his being too modest to tell me about it?" 

The colonel shook his head. "No." He took a sip of his coffee and thought. "When I put him in for the medal, Geoff told me he didn't want it - and it wasn't about modesty. He said it was the worst time of his life, and he didn't want to remember it. That he wasn't a hero, he was just trying to keep himself and his men alive - and he didn't think he did a very good job of it." 

The gray-haired man looked at the table, then back at Amy. "Geoff still won't acknowledge what he did and how extraordinary it was. Sometimes I wonder if he even really remembers all of it. But - and this is the important part, Amy - he has a certain resentment toward people who know the details, and you mustn't let him know that you do." 

Amy was listening carefully. "I understand," she said with a nod. "I won't mention it to him." 

"Ever," said the colonel. 

"Ever." 

He looked at her a moment, then rapped the table with his ring. Amy jumped, and he grinned and apologized. "Sorry, old habit. It's intended to remind people to listen." She looked down at the ring, and realized that the Colonel was a graduate of the Naval Academy at Annapolis. 

"Geoff was a Master Sergeant when this happened," he began. "It was in 1968. A hard year. He and his rifle platoon - that's about fifty men - were on their way to relieve another unit at an outpost near the DMZ - do you know what that means?" 

"Demilitarized Zone," she nodded. "In the North, near the border with North Vietnam." 

"That's right. Well, they were ambushed. Couple of hundred NVA caught them on the trail and took out maybe half the men in the first few seconds. Geoff managed to get a few of the fire teams to the top of a ridge; he basically organized a counterattack through their line and led the charge. Under the circumstances, it showed amazing leadership and coolness under fire."

The colonel looked at his coffee. "Geoff took two bullets in the back at some point. He hid that from his men, and even he isn't sure when it happened. He must have been in some close combat too, because he had bayonet or knife wounds through one leg, in both arms and his side, and four broken ribs. Those were just the important wounds. There were others." The colonel shrugged. "Either he doesn't remember how he got them, or he won't say."

"I've seen the scars," Amy said softly. The colonel nodded.

"Anyway, he was in pretty bad shape, and most of the men he managed to save were even worse off. He made it to the top of the ridge with thirteen men, and five of them died during the night. Not one was unwounded." 

He went on as Amy listened, her eyes wide and glistening. "Geoff fought those NVA off practically singlehanded, long into the night. He took out so many - the other Marines estimated fifty to sixty - they finally decided to leave. They knew all of the Marines were badly hurt, anyway. 

"They threw a Russian grenade onto the hilltop as they left, but Geoff threw it behind some rocks with about a half-second to spare - he got some more wounds from the shrapnel - and he had his men go quiet so the NVA would think they were dead. It worked." 

The colonel took another sip of his coffee. "He kept his men's spirits up all night, and he even found food for them-" 

"He cooked them a snake," said Amy quietly. "That I know." 

The colonel looked at her a moment, then nodded. "More than one. And some kind of monkey, I think. 

"It started raining like hell, and they were stuck up there for another day and another night, with no one but Geoff to care for them, before they could be choppered out. Two more men died from their wounds. Geoff should have died with them." 

He took another sip. "It never made sense that he survived. Force of will, I guess." He smiled, and so did Amy. 

"Seven men survived that ambush. For a while. We lost two more in the hospital." He smiled at the young girl. "Geoff was in the hospital for four and a half months. He could have taken a discharge when he got out, but he wouldn't hear of it.

"He went back." 

The colonel looked at her. "Geoff isn't proud of those two days, Amy. He thinks he failed. In the end, he only brought back one fire team out of a platoon. He can't see that it's a miracle that he brought back anyone." 

He patted her small hand. "That's why you can never let on that you know about this. Believe it or not, he's ashamed of it." 

She nodded, slowly. "I understand," she said. "I know Geoff, and that's like him." 

"Now you know why he said what he did at the concert," said the colonel.  

"Yes." She looked up curiously. "What about his Navy Cross and the other stuff?" 

The colonel grinned. "Those don't bother him so much. The NC he got by basically rescuing some guys in another unit who were getting cut up in a firefight. Geoff is old school-" 

"No kidding," said Amy dryly. 

Johnsty laughed. "-and he came onto the scene with two Thompson subs, guns blazing like Sergeant fucking Rock - excuse me -" Amy smiled and waved for him to go on - "and ran off half a company of VC through, um, the sheer force of his personality." he grinned. "Damndest thing I ever saw." 

"You were there?" she asked, surprised. He nodded. 

"I was one of the guys he saved," he said. "I was a dumbass shavetail second lieutenant, and it was my own stupidity that got us into that mess in the first place." He smiled. "Geoff never mentioned that, then or later. He not only saved my life. He saved my career." He looked at the clock. "I'd better go," he said. 

"Me, too. Thank you, Johnsty. This meant a lot to me." 

He stood with her. "It was an honor, Amy." He hesitated a moment, then said with a wry smile, "Permission to speak freely, ma'am?" 

She looked at him curiously. "Sure." 

He nodded his thanks. "Amy, I've known Geoff for more than forty years. I'd call him my best friend, but I don't think he's ever been that close to anyone." He smiled. "Till now. 

"I'm glad you're his wife. He deserves a woman as sweet and beautiful as you." 

She blushed, but said nothing. The colonel went on: "But I'm even more glad he's found a friend." He smiled. "Make him as happy as you can, Amy. No man ever deserved it more."

"That's what I live for, Johnsty. Thank you." 

She beckoned, and he bent to listen to her whisper - but she kissed his cheek instead. Then it was the colonel's turn to blush. 

--- 

When Amy got home, Geoff was waiting in the living room, wearing his martial-arts garb; the white gi shirt and the loose navy-blue hakama skirt of an Aikido master. He greeted her with a warm smile. "Wanna get sweaty?" he asked. 

"Oh, that's right. It's Wednesday. Let me go change..." 

He shook his head. "Uh-uh. Street clothes today. Those'll do fine." Amy was wearing jeans and her ubiquitous polo shirt. "You won't be wearing your gi when you get mugged." 

Amy laughed, and they went up the hall to the training room.

At least three days every week, Amy studied martial arts of various kinds with Geoff. They usually worked out in a spare bedroom, empty but for a mat on the floor and a heavy bag; sometimes they sparred in the yard, and sometimes - in slow-motion, and protected from falls - they worked on new moves in the shallow end of the pool. They also went to the range a couple of times a month, where Amy learned the art of the rifle and the pistol as well. 

When they entered the room, Geoff whirled and grabbed the left side of Amy's shirt, near the collar, in an aggressive, accosting move; just as quickly, she clamped both her small hands on his wrist, held it tight against her breast, and spun around to her right, tucking Geoff's arm under her own - and then she crouched slightly. 

Geoff had been involuntarily turned with his back to her and his arm behind him, his elbow turned upward in Amy's armpit. If she were to drop with all her weight on it, it would be dislocated and perhaps broken. As it was, the pressure on the joint was - noticeable. 

"Very good," he said. "Well done, Little Heart." He grinned. "Now let me go." 

She laughed and released his arm. "Am I going to learn some kicks today?" 

Geoff shook his head. "High kicks are great for the movies," he said. "In a real street fight they aren't worth much. Unless you're an expert, they'll get you killed." He shrugged. "Remember that aikido is a defensive art, Amy; it has no attacking moves. I've taught you some, but that's not the heart of it. Turn around." 

She did so, and suddenly he grabbed both her wrists and pulled them behind her back. "This may feel familiar," he said. 

"It does." She giggled. "Please don't rape me, mister...." 

Geoff laughed, then asked, "Seriously; what are you going to do?" 

"I don't know," she said. "What CAN I do?" 

He let her go. "Let me show you." He turned around. "Here, take my wrists like I did yours. Now, this is called Kokyunage..." 

---

They worked for their usual two hours, then had their usual schizophrenic post-practice shower; sensual touching combined with simultaneous discussion of fighting techniques, interrupted with passionate kisses. Sometimes they dried off and had lunch or dinner; this time, they ended up on the floor. 

Amy was sitting in the circle of Geoff's crossed legs as he leaned against the tiled wall; her arms and legs were around him, and she was impaled on his cock to the hilt, his bristles scrubbing her hairless lips as he held her. They were kissing intimately, deeply, hardly moving at all, just savoring their connection and closeness. 

"Mmm," she said. "I think I like this best of all, Geoffie." 

He chuckled, and she felt the deep vibration of it in her belly. "You say that about everything we do." 

She smiled and nipped playfully at his turkey neck. "I guess that's because whatever we're doing is my favorite. Ooo, I felt that..."

"How about this?" 

"OooOOooo...." 

They snuggled and fucked for a while, then Amy moved her feet to either side of Geoff and planted them flat on the tiles, frankly squatting on his cock. He slid a little lower on the wall and murmured, "Now this is MY favorite..." 




Canon Ch. 07



"Really?" she whispered, beginning to pump her pussy up and down on his dick. 

"Mmmmm. Yes. I just lie back and watch the show while you jack me off with your pussy..." She giggled and put her hands behind her head, leaning back in his arms and wriggling sensuously, teasing him as she bobbed up and down.

"I love to show off for you, Geoffie. I love to be naked under your eyes. I love it even more when I have your big old cock in my pussy." She humped her pelvis subtly as she slid up and down. 

"Oooh, baby," he breathed. "Oooh, yeah... Squeeze me..." 

"Mmmm. Like that?" 

"Urk. Yeah. Oh, oh, yeah."  

"Mmmmmmmmm.... So big..." 

They fucked gently, sensuously, making it last, slowing down when they felt orgasm approaching, speeding up to keep it nearby. They floated at the edge of cumming for half an hour or so; it was a sweet dance that they had grown very good at. 

"I love fucking you, Little Heart," he said softly as he teased her nipples. "And I love that I can see everything now without your hair in the way." 

She smiled and sank all the way down on him, then ground her pussy into his crotch, stirring her hole deeply with his stiff dick. "Let's cum, G-Geoffie," she whispered shakily. "You wanna c-c-cum?" 

He pulled her close, pressing her pointy young breasts into his gray, hairy chest. "Sure," he rumbled. "But don't cum till I tell you to." 

She whimpered and bit her lip as she felt him thrusting deep inside her. "O-okaaay....." 

Geoff hung on for long seconds at his favorite moment in time - feeling his cum rushing up from his balls, his sweet Amy's pussy tube squeezing and grasping slickly at his bare cock, her high, little-girl orgasm-voice shakily begging, "Please, Geoffie - I'm gonna cum... I'm gonna cum now..."  

"Cum then, baby," he groaned, "Cum for me..." And as she shuddered and let go on him, he felt his soul shooting from his dick deep into her wetly caressing hole. 

"Oh, G-God..." 

"Love you..." 

"So good...." 

They floated for perhaps a minute, perhaps more, perhaps forever, in that wonderful ocean of spurt and squeeze, clench and gush, arms wrapped around each other and tongues trying to tell each other what love is; and finally they came to the surface to find another orgasm waiting. 

Geoff's were dry; hers were not, and they slid from one peak to the next for five or ten minutes. They called it "chaining," and they had learned to just be grateful and ride with it when it came upon them, and not worry or wonder about how or why it happened. 

They finally spun back to Earth and sat in the circles of each other's arms and legs, gazing into each other's eyes and finding the other halves of their souls there. 

Amy leaned her cheek on Geoff's chest and closed her eyes. Her pussy still clasped his softening cock in its wet and gentle haven. "I love that, Geoffie," she whispered into his gray hair. "I just love it when we get all locked up like that." 

"Mmmm. Me too," he murmured. Then he smiled. "Gives a whole new meaning to 'locked up and chained,' doesn't it?" 

She giggled and nuzzled him. "Ooo, Geoffie, chain me up... Chain me up naked..."

Then she lifted her head and looked at him. "That reminds me," she said. "When are we going back to Juicy? I want to be stuck naked for a few weeks again."    

They had returned to their island twice that year, and both times Amy had to go without clothing the whole time; the second time she even did without sandals, and that was for three weeks. She adored the feeling of being "stuck naked," without the slightest hope of covering herself, and her excitement fueled Geoff's. 

Her pussy was constantly wet and swollen on the island, and that finally gave it its name; they called it Juicy Island. 

"When is this semester over?" he asked. 

"Week after next." She felt his dick slip out of her pussy and shivered. "Can we go?" 

He grinned. "Let's spend Christmas with your mom and dad, then you can take the spring term off. How about getting stuck naked for a couple of months?" 

"Ooo... I'd like that, Geoffie... I'd like that a lot..." 

--- 

And so they did. January was the perfect time; they fled the gray, snowless cold of the Southern winter and spent its coldest months on their idyllic island in the South Pacific. 

That trip required several visits from the seaplane to bring supplies. Amy was obliged to hide naked in the trees as the pilot and Geoff carried the boxes and bags into the hut. She felt deliciously vulnerable and exposed the whole time, and Geoff was in turn infected with her excitement. 

He had by this time introduced Amy to the pleasures of vibrating dildos, and she enjoyed snuggling intimately on the beach with one inserted in her slippery pussy and turned to the low setting. They would kiss and caress each other for hours as Amy drifted from one dreamy, effortless orgasm to the next. She also grew to enjoy holding one inside her as she lovingly sucked Geoff's cock; she adored turning it up and timing her own orgasm to the moment when he spurted and squirted cum in her mouth or on her face, and he loved watching her gasp and shiver as he coated her tongue and lips - and her lewd smile as she looked at him afterwards. 

They experimented a bit, as always - and sometimes they didn't. 

"Geoffie," she said to him quietly one evening as they roasted hot dogs over the fire, "You can take me in my bottom if you want." 

He looked at her quizzically. "You mean, anally?" She nodded. He smiled. "Thank you, Punkin, but no thanks."

"You don't like that?" 

He shrugged. "I know some guys do," he said, "but I never saw much sense in it." He grinned at the naked girl. "Why would I want to fuck your asshole when the most wonderful pussy in the world is two inches away?"

She giggled, and he thought he heard a little hint of relief. "You didn't really want that anyway, did you?" he said softly. "It was just for me." 

She nodded. "But if you want it, it's yours, Geoffie. I told you - I'll do anything for you."

He rested the stick that held his hot dog on one of the rocks by the fire, took the nude teen in his arms, and kissed her. "Thank you, Little Heart," he whispered. "But I never want you to do anything you don't want to do." 

She snuggled into his arms. "I know, Geoffie. But if it's for something you want - well, you don't have to know." 

He leaned back and looked at her sternly. "Now, Amy, I don't like that much." He frowned. "Tell me the truth. Have you ever done something you didn't like because you thought I wanted it?" He looked her right in her big, disconcerting eyes. "Truth, now." 

She looked up at him. "Not exactly," she said timidly. 

"What does THAT mean?" 

She wriggled. "One thing, at first, I didn't want to. But after I did it, I loved it." 

"What was it?"

She blushed. "Riding Honey. I was scared of that the first time." She shivered. "Now I love it. Mmm. I wish we could bring her here." 

He smiled. "Anything else?" 

She shook her head, eyes wide and innocent - both of them. 

"Well, okay," he said. "But you're doing something right now that I hope I never, ever, do." 

She blinked. "What?" 

"You're burning your weenie." 

She squeaked and pulled it from the fire, and they both laughed. "If you ever do, I'll kiss it and make it better, Geoffie." 

He grinned. "Will you kiss it even if I don't burn it?" 

"Don't I now?" She smirked. "Besides, I LIKE 'em hot n' juicy." She looked at him as she took a large, deliberate bite of her hot dog, and giggled.

"Ouch," he said, and she laughed. "And you prefer aged beef, I'll bet." 

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, yessss... It's so much more flavorful..." 

---

Their favorite time on the island was sunrise. They would sit on the beach in the darkness before dawn in their Yoga connection, naked and embracing each other, with Geoff's hard dick balls-deep in her warm, wet hole - and just sit, without moving, for an hour, or two, or more. 

As the Sun slowly rose, they too would slowly rise, higher and higher, until that moment when the Pacific sky was filled with golden bars of light radiating from the eastern horizon. At that moment, they reached that pinnacle of ultra-orgasm and deep oneness that they both found so precious - and their hearts and minds, now one heart and one mind, were illuminated as brightly as the sky and as filled with golden light.  

The old man and the young girl - on their island, the only man and woman in the world - felt their hearts fill and their souls touch. As their faces and bodies. - old and young, scarred and flawless, wrinkled and smooth - were lighted by the rising Sun, they held each other and came, beyond thought, in still, wordless ecstasy, and they could not tell where one ended and the other began - body, mind, or soul. 

And so they would remain, rested and content, silent, warmer and closer than either had ever been to another or ever could be. 

When they were ready, they would walk together down the beach and into the surf, where they would laugh and embrace and let the infinite, ancient ocean move them and rock them and draw them back to Earth. 

--- 

In spite of Geoff's daily ritual of caressing and covering Amy's ivory skin with strong sunblock from hairline to heels, she gradually acquired a subtle, golden glow - without tan lines, of course. Her hair began to show dark-red highlights, and her beauty, impossibly, seemed even more alluring; less ethereal, more earthy. He had not thought his passion could grow; and yet it did. 

Sometimes, he thought, it seems like I'm growing younger. At seventy-one, he felt closer to fifty than to seventy; before Amy, he had felt perhaps sixty on a good day. 

He wondered how long they had left together - and then rejected the thought. That had become a reflex. 

---

A day came, more than halfway through their nine-week stay on Juicy, when Geoff saw Amy heading for their open shower with a bar of soap - and he stopped her. "Not now, Punkin," he said. "Later. Look." 

He pointed toward the west. The Sun was still high, but below it, a line of ominous, roiling blackness was visible, with sparks of white light throughout. She looked at him with a worried expression. 

"Storm front," he said. "Don't worry, it's not one of the big typhoons. But it'll be spectacular." 

He grinned down at her. "We can play in the storm, Little Heart," he whispered. "And have the best warm shower ever." 

And so they did. They had dragged their featherbed back into the hut to keep it dry, and were waiting on the beach as the sky grew dark and the storm rolled in. They gasped as the big, warm drops began to pelt them. 

In seconds they were being hammered by a fierce downpour, every inch of their bodies whipped by warm wet impacts, whirled by wind, illuminated by blinding flashes of crackling lightning and shaken by rolling thunder. Laughing and gasping, they soaped and caressed each other in the rain. 

Geoff and Amy fell to the sand and eagerly began to fuck in the crashing, pounding torrent. He was kneeling upright, with Amy lying before him with her bare feet cradled in his elbows. She gasped and writhed as the hard hot rain drenched and massaged her breasts and belly and face, and as Geoff's cock slid in and out of her clenching pussy. He gazed down at her, transfixed, as she was lit by intermittent flashes, her body gleaming-wet and shivering as he fucked her. 

They rolled and wrestled in the storm, shaken by the thunder and blinded by the lightning, soaked and sprayed by the torrential rain, and moved beyond all those by each other's passion. They gasped and laughed and cried and fucked in the storm, their faces and bodies streaming, till they came together - clinging to each other as the sky and sea raged all around them. 

As their passion waned, so did the power of the storm. The found themselves lying together on the hard, wet sand, holding each other and caressing soft, wet skin as the rain - softer, warmer, gentler - soothed and washed them. The thunder rolled in lower tones, growing distant, receding. 

"That was - awesome," breathed the girl. 

"I've been in rain like that before," said the old man. "This was better." He squeezed her and kissed her ear, and she pulled herself closer, rubbing her bare, wet thigh on his hip. 

"I love you, Big Heart," she whispered. "You take me to places I've never imagined." After a moment, she giggled. "And fuck me there." He laughed. 

A few moments later, the rain stopped as if turned off by a switch. They watched the wall of rain sweep on beyond them, a line of gray mist above the ocean. 

The sun came out. They lay in its warmth for a while, then Geoff got up to get dry wood and start the fire again. He knelt to arrange it, and soon a merry blaze was crackling on the bed of rocks. 

Amy sat up and watched him, her arms around her bare knees. She thought of him in that hard rain so long before - bloody, wounded, fighting and caring for men more wounded than he. She smiled. 

As they ate - a simple lunch, canned beef stew with crackers and fruit - Geoff seemed to be preoccupied. There was a beautiful, naked teenager sitting beside him, and he hardly glanced at her, staring fixedly at the fire instead. 

Amy left him alone. She had seen him like this before, and knew he was making some sort of decision. 

--- 

After lunch, they settled down under the shade at the front of their little shack. Geoff leaned back against the thatch, and beckoned to Amy to lie across his lap. 

She did, snuggling into her favorite spot in the world - her Geoffie's arms. They sat silently for a while, and Amy waited. She sensed that something was coming, but knew there could be no pushing for it. He would speak when he was ready. 

And he finally did. He kissed her short hair and spoke softly: 

"Punkin, last year you asked me how I won that damned medal. I've never talked about it before, not since I had to file my formal report. But I want to tell you, now." 

She kissed his chest. "Okay," she whispered, and placed her small hand over his heart. "I'd like to know, if you want to talk about it." 

"Never have before," he said shortly. Then, "I guess I feel safe with you, like you do with me." 

She snuggled close, nuzzled his chest, and waited. 

And he began. 

"It was the start of the rainy season. We were moving up a path in the jungle, fifty-two of us, and I thought we were being careful..." 

--- 

He spoke for over an hour; sometimes in a voice so soft she could barely hear, sometimes choked with emotion, and sometimes with anger. He wept from time to time, and she caressed the back of his old neck as he cried into her hair. 

He told it all, in far more detail than the colonel had. He told of the initial ambush and the chaos and panic that followed it; of pulling a few of his men together, seeing a weak point in the enemy's line, and of forcing their way through and fighting their way to high ground. He told of the blades and bullets that pierced him and of killing the men who used them, of the fierce, brutal joy of taking the lives of so many of those who had attacked his men - and of his frustration at not having killed even more. He told of shooting a wounded man between the eyes without a second thought, of killing another with a Ka-Bar fighting knife between reloads, and of fighting and killing hand-to-hand till another Marine threw him a loaded weapon. 

He told Amy of things he had told no one; of holding a young lance corporal and weeping as the boy died in his arms, of killing another Marine himself - a man who was in horrible pain, and would inevitably have died that day or the next after much more of it - and of hearing the cries of a Marine in the jungle that he could not reach, and of hearing those cries stop. 

He told of cooking snake and monkey stew in a helmet over a smokeless fire; of feeding men whose hands were useless; of being grateful for torrential rain that hid them from the enemy, washed the dried blood from his hands, and refilled their canteens; and of staying awake for almost three days through anger and shame and sheer will. 

Finally, he told her of seeing the Hueys landing, down the ridge from their position, and of the medics leaping from them and running toward them - and of waking up in a Navy hospital bed four days later. 

He leaned back against the thatch, drained; his lined old face was drawn and pale. "Thank you, Amy," he said in a tired, raspy voice. "I've needed to tell that for a long time." 

"Thank you for trusting me, Geoffie," she said. 

He smiled at last, and she kissed him. He was sitting with his hands lying on the boards on either side of him, palm up. 

"Anyway," he said, "Now you see why I didn't deserve that medal." 

She shook her head. "No, Geoffie," she said. "I see why you did."  

"But-" 

"Geoff, don't you see? If not for you, no one would have come back from that ridge. No one." 

"But we-" 

"Geoffie." She stopped him. He looked at her. "You were prepared to die to keep those men safe, weren't you?"  

He nodded. "Of course," he said. 

"And you thought you were, didn't you? When you saw those choppers land - you laid down and died, didn't you? That's what you thought." 

His old eyes widened. "How did you know that? I didn't tell you that." 

She smiled, her strange eyes wet. "I know you, Geoffie. That's the only reason you'd lie down." 

His hands slowly rose, and slowly embraced her. He held her close, and as she knew he would, the old soldier quietly began to weep, hot tears running down his cheeks and onto her bare back. 

"That's why you don't think you deserve the medal, Geoffie," she whispered into his graying chest. "It's not because you didn't do enough. You know you couldn't have done any more." 

She lifted her head and kissed his wet cheeks, then spoke with infinite gentleness: "It's because you don't think you should have come home, either. You think you should have died out there, too." She looked into his eyes. "Don't you?" she breathed. 

He closed his eyes, and pulled her toward him. "Yes," he quavered. "Yes. Yes, that's right..." 

He began to speak more rapidly, as if a stream had opened up, a dam broken. "I should have died with them. That's what should have happened. I should have died, too. It wasn't fair. Why me? Why was I spared? Why did I get to live when those young boys didn't? It wasn't fair..." 

He cried again, more audibly, sobbing into her hair as she held him. 

She knew what would stop him. It might sound egotistical to someone else - but there was no one else there. 

"Geoffie?" 

"Mm?" He released her, leaned back, wiped his eyes. 

"Can you think of a reason you were allowed to live?" 

He looked at her blankly. She smiled and pointed at herself, one pretty finger between her breasts. 

He blinked, looked back at her eyes - then, very slowly, he began to smile. 

"Right again, Punkin," he whispered, nodding, looking at her strange, wondrous eyes. "I've been grateful to be alive this last year or so, for the first time since then. But I never made that connection." 

He hugged her, then held her close for long minutes. She could almost hear him thinking, shifting gears, restructuring his most fundamental beliefs and perspectives - and then he sighed, and she could almost hear them click into place. 

She looked up at him. "Well?" 

He smiled, and she saw something in that smile that she had never seen before.

Peace. 

--- 

They did not make love that evening, nor that night. They talked quietly, played a game of chess - Amy won; Geoff was still digesting his new insights - and they listened to the Canon in D as they snuggled without speaking and finally drifted off to sleep. 

The featherbed was still inside the hut after the storm. At some time long after midnight, Amy felt Geoff stir, get up, and leave their bed. 




Canon Ch. 07



She assumed it was to go outside and pee, much as he did at home - but for some reason, she got up a moment later and watched him from the door of the hut. 

He did not go toward the trees, as she expected; he went down to the sea, and stood there with the waves lapping at his feet, looking up at the stars. 

After a few moments, he knelt - and bowed his head. 

Amy watched, her eyes wide, her pupils dilated in the dim starlight. Geoff was praying, and this man - in spite of what he had said about giving thanks - this man, she knew, did not pray. He had told her once that he was too angry at God to pray to him. 

She crept from the hut, barefoot in the still-damp sand, and quietly approached him. She knew better than to surprise him, and coughed quietly as she drew near - and saw his slight movement, a signal of his awareness of her presence. The naked girl stroked his bald head affectionately, then knelt beside him. He took her hand in his and kissed her fingers. 

They stayed there, kneeling together between land and sea, for some time. She saw his lips moving, but could not make out his words. 

She stroked his back and let it go. He was not speaking to her. Now and then, there was a faint rumble of thunder from the now-distant storm, as if in answer. 

Geoff finally stood, stretched, took a deep breath, and let it out. She stood beside him, and they looked at each other - then up at the sky, together, at the millions of stars. 

In all the world, there was only sea, and sky, and their little island. In all of time, there was only that one moment. There was nothing but just the two of them - innocent, unclothed, beyond concerns of past and future, cleansed of pain and sorrow and worry. 

Hand in hand, they walked back to the little hut - where they fell asleep to the sound of the waves and the wind, sheltered in each other's arms. 

--- 

They barely spoke for the next few days. There was nothing to say. A look, a smile, a touch - 

"You have set me free." 

"You have shown me who I am." 

"You are my life, my world. You are my heart." 

- said all they needed to say, as clearly as if it were written. 

Old man, young girl; and yet, two halves of the same soul, one and seamlessly united.

They made love without games, without words, hearts touching as their bodies touched, souls within and around each other as he was within her, as her body enclosed his. They came, together, sharing those heights as one - or separately, one heightening the other's pleasure and enjoying the task, then giving that joy over to the other. 

They were on the island for three more weeks, and each day was eternal - with no yesterday and no tomorrow, every day an island in time as the earth beneath them was an island in the sea.  

And finally, they returned the the big old house where they had first known each other, where they had fallen in love, and where they now lived as husband and wife; and they took the peace that they had found on the island there with them. 

--- 

For the next few years, their life together grew into a rhythm, a pulse, moving between the big old house and the island at the end of the world; between time and eternity, between Earth and Eden. When one became routine, they went to the other. Amy began to audit classes, to give them more freedom, and soon she found she had taken them all.  

They found much to do other than snuggle and fuck, though those remained the still center around which their lives revolved. They traveled between semesters, visiting Europe, Asia and Australia; they became patrons of the symphony and rarely missed a concert; and they enjoyed going out frequently for gourmet meals and live theater. 

They cultivated a select circle of close friends who were welcome in their home. Colonel Johnston and his wife Carolyn, Amy's parents, a few friends of Amy's age from her school, some Marine buddies of Geoff's, a few others. All accepted the strangely mismatched but adoring couple for who they were, and celebrated their union with them. 

No marriage is perfect. They didn't like the same music; Geoff was oldies and big-band jazz, and Amy was techno and club dance. But they found common ground in classical - especially their precious Canon. 

---

Amy prepared a special treat for Geoff's 75th birthday: a surprise reunion with the men with whom he had shared that hilltop in Vietnam. "Johnsty" helped her set it up, and all four men and their wives were there. 

Geoff was moved to tears, of course - and was finally able to accept the gratitude of the men he had saved, and celebrate their lives and those of their families, instead of continuing to mourn for those who were lost. It was a long evening of talk, tears and laughter, and one of the best of his long life. 

The next day - a second surprise - their children and grandchildren showed up to thank him as well. The big old house and yard were filled, and the pool too, with squealing kids and laughing adults. It turned into a weekend-long party, with most of the guests in spare bedrooms and the overflow in a nearby hotel. Geoff was at once the host and the guest of honor, and he seemed comfortable in both roles. 

On that Saturday evening, as the five survivors sat around the living room again with beer and wine and memories and talked like the old friends and comrades they were - everyone else was on the patio - Johnsty pulled Amy aside and asked: 

"Amy, I've been meaning to ask you - what happened? I've noticed it before, but tonight..." He shook his head. "He can talk about it now. He's not - bitter. He's finally let down his guard, lost his anger. What did you do?" 

She smiled and shrugged. "He let it out, Johnsty. He finally let go of it." She shrugged again and lifted her hands. "He decided that it was OK that he got to live." 

The silver-haired Marine officer - there are no ex-Marines - looked at the pretty young woman with the strange eyes and nodded. "And I bet I know why," he said thoughtfully. 

Amy blushed. "I don't know. One night on the island he just held me and started talking. And he's been OK ever since." 

She didn't mention her insight, or Geoff's. Those were his to share if he chose. Not hers.     "Well, whatever caused it, it's a miracle, Amy. And a long time coming." 

They turned and looked at the bald old man in the living room, laughing and gesturing from his favorite chair like a king in his court. 

The colonel placed a hand on Amy's back, with affection and respect. "Like I said, Amy. He deserves you. Thank you for what you've done for him." He patted her back and went back to the living room, where the five men greeted their old commander with grins and offered drinks.  

---

For more than three years after that, little changed; Geoff seemed not to age, and in fact to grow younger. They loved, and laughed, and taught each other, and were grateful for every day.

Amy lost a bit of her girlish slenderness, and grew a tiny bit heavier, a tiny bit curvier - which Geoff adored. 

"Why do you like me this way?" she asked him curiously one day as they sweated in the steam room. 

"Amy, you haven't gained THAT much weight," the old man said. "What is it? Ten or fifteen pounds?"

She smiled at him. "I know. But why do you like it?" 

He grinned. "You jiggle more when you move. Your bottom and your boobs are bigger and rounder and softer. And you have more to shake and bounce and shimmy when you dance for me." He licked his lips, and Amy noticed his cock shifting on its own. 

She shook her breasts a little, looking down at them. "Hmmm," she said. "I guess they DO jiggle a little more...." 

Geoff growled and reached for her. 

That was when he was 77.

--- 

Another year passed.

Eight years into their marriage, Geoff was finally beginning to slow down. They cut back on, and eventually stopped, the martial-arts training, through they still went to the gun range. He still did his weight-training three times a week, but with less weight on the bar. They walked more, swam more, and slept later.

Geoff, predictably, did not accept aging with good grace. He was approaching 80, but demanded as much from himself as he did at half that age; and was inevitably disappointed. 

They no longer made love every day. He was beginning to find it difficult to achieve and sustain an erection. Viagra helped, but his most important aid was Amy, who would do anything to help him - and enjoyed the challenge. 

One afternoon, when Geoff had not been hard for the better part of a week, Amy had him tie her wrists to Honey's saddle and start the engine. She shuddered and shook naked in their back yard for almost an hour - whimpering and cumming and grinding her bald pussy into the leather ridge she sat on - as Geoff watched and played with his cock. 

When he was finally hard, she slid around and hung her ass off the side of the bike, her bare feet braced on either side. She came again as he slid his cock into her bare, vibrating pussy. He fucked her squeezing, shaking hole and looked into her slitted eyes, and before long he shivered too as he spurted deep inside her - as she came yet again, as much from the pleasure she had given him as from her own.  

She would strip and dance for him, inflaming him with her bare beauty and her snakelike movements, alternating that with sucking and licking him as lewdly as possible; then she'd squat on his dick and bring him off when he was hard - and hold him close, and be held, as he recovered. 

When even that could not happen, he would feel her and lick her and bring her to orgasm in whatever way he could - and she adored it. He would apologize at first - but she soon broke him of that. She'd kiss his old cheek and say, "Geoffie, it isn't your dick I'm in love with. It's you." 

--- 

One night, after they had tried but failed, and snuggled naked anyway, he held her and hummed the bass notes of the Canon - but she did not sleep. They clung to each other and thought. They were sad - but they did not weep, either. 

She looked up at him in the dim light with her strange eyes, and he looked back with his old ones - and they both knew. 

This was the bargain they had made. This was the price they had agreed to pay, for their love, for their oneness and happiness. This was the path they had chosen to walk together, and they both saw its end approaching. 

"Not much time left, Punkin," he whispered. 

She did not push the thought away, this time. 

"I know," she said. "I know, Geoffie." 

He smiled. "We'll have ten years, though, Little Heart. I'll make it to eighty if it kills me." 

They smiled at that - and then they laughed, though quietly, softly. 

He kissed her hair, and she stroked his back. His muscles were growing slack, his skin yet more delicate; but he was still her Geoff, her lover, her hero. She hugged him, knowing she was trying to hold him here - and knowing that in the end, she couldn't. 

He felt it too. "I'll never abandon you alone, Amy," he breathed. 

She looked up at him; his eyes were as hard and determined as they must have been on that hilltop, long before she was born. "No matter what happens. I'll never leave you alone," he said. His voice was soft, yet hard and clear as diamond. "You know that, don't you?" He pulled her close and held her tightly to him.

He had never spoken of that before, nor even alluded to it. But he felt her nod, then felt her lips move against his chest as she whispered, "Yes. I know." 

Then, "I don't understand how that could be, Geoffie. But I know it's true. I can feel it." He felt her nod once more, and he cradled her head in his old hand and kissed her hair again as she clung to him. 

She lifted her face to his, and he kissed her. It was as sweet and long and comfortable as their first - and perhaps even sweeter from the knowledge that there would not be that many more. 

Geoff started the Canon again, and they hummed to it together. 

It calmed them, soothed them, brought them peace; and they slept in each other's arms, content in that moment because it was the only moment that existed. 

Tomorrow had still not come, and only today was real; but they both knew that one day, one day, there would come that one day of which they never spoke. 

But not yet. Not quite yet. 

They smiled as they slept. Their time was not yet gone. 

And, they knew, it would be all right. The Canon swirled around them, and everything was all right. 

Somehow, they would have their happy ending.



Canon Ch. 08



Geoff did indeed give her ten years, as he promised. 

Amy threw an eightieth birthday party for him at their favorite restaurant, and all their friends attended to honor the old soldier - and to eat the best steaks in town. 

Amy's parents, of course, were among the guests; but one of the survivors of those two terrible days on the hilltop had passed on, though his wife was there. Another attended in a wheelchair. Johnsty, too, was gone, and so was Carolyn, his wife. The annual gathering was shrinking. 

After the dinner, Amy and Geoff returned to the gleaming Jaguar, which was lovingly maintained by Amy under her husband's supervision. He walked with an Irish blackthorn stick now, though he still stood as straight as a newly-minted lieutenant. 

He got in the left-hand seat, and allowed Amy to drive. They never discussed it, but after a near-collision caused by Geoff's reflexes not being what they once were, he never drove again. As with every aspect of his life, he maintained control; he gave up driving before that right was denied him. 

He smiled as Amy stirred the gears like the expert driver she had become under his tutelage. "Come on, Punkin," said the old man with a grin. "Open her up a little. Cat needs to scream." 

Amy glanced at him with a smirk, then downshifted and stamped the accelerator. Geoff sighed with pleasure at feeling the beast leap forward, and grinned with fierce delight as Amy whipped it through a tricky S-curve that had long been their favorite on the way back to their house. 

"Well done, Little Heart," he said as they pulled into the garage. "Well done." 

"You taught me well, Geoffie," she said, then moved to the other side of the car to help the old man climb out. 

They did not speak as she helped lift him from the seat and slide over the wide doorsill. He accepted her help, but would not acknowledge it. She understood, and conspired with him to pretend he didn't really need it. 

Amy helped him undress - his adult diapers, again, something they never openly acknowledged - and then went to the steam room to relax. 

As they walked naked down the hall, Amy looked at Geoff's aged body with love and warm compassion. He no longer had the deceptively muscular and young-looking body of even a few years ago; he had grown thinner, unsteadier, and though he still could not be described as "frail," he was not as strong as he had once been. 

Yes, his skin sagged, he was wrinkled and lined, his body soft and aged; but he's still my Geoffie, she thought. No one could love me like he does, and there's no one I could love like I love him. It's not his body I love. It's his heart. 

They no longer fucked; but they could still make love. In the steam room, Amy squatted over him and whimpered as he felt her pussy. His fingers were still magic, and he stroked her swollen clit and explored her slippery hole as she gasped and humped and shivered over him - and he enjoyed the show as much as he ever had. 

At the very beginning, it was more thrilling for him to please her than to please himself - and that was still true. The old man could no longer cum himself, but he adored giving that pleasure to her. 

She sat in his lap afterward as she always had, and they held each other close in the warm, wet fog, stroking each other's slick, sweaty bodies and kissing intimately. Passion? Oh, yes - but for him, banked and warm, not blazing. That time was past. 

Love, soul-deep and as solid as the Earth, remained. Where once they expressed their devotion to each other with fierce sexual abandon, Amy now expressed hers by caring for him - and he expressed his own by allowing it. For Geoff, that was difficult, and truly an expression of trust and adoration. 

They moved to their shower. She bathed him, tenderly, and he bathed her; sensuality remained, as well. He loved to touch her smooth body, stroking and laving her nudity with his soapy, shaking old hands - and she loved being touched, and giving him whatever pleasure she could. She soaped him with her soft hands, lovingly, and he relaxed and lost himself in the wonder of her gentle touch.

And then to bed. Geoff wore his protective garment, but Amy went naked for him; and they both loved that. It was sweet warmth and intimacy still. 

Only one thing remained to them unchanged, only one thing that was as it had always been. It was the first thing they had shared, and that which had brought them together; their beloved Pachelbel, the Canon in D. 

Geoff's voice was still deep and strong, and Amy would lie naked in his arms and listen as he hummed to her, the eight repeated notes of the bass violins resonating in his chest, in her ear, and in her heart. As always, it calmed and comforted them and brought them a sense of peace and oneness like nothing else. Everything was all right in that little island in time, as it always had been; and they slept peacefully together, smiling softly in each other's arms. 

In the morning they would wake, and be grateful for another day together. 

--- 

They went to Juicy Island still, through not as frequently; and never for more than a week at a time. Geoff was fortunate in that he required no special equipment - no oxygen or monitors or other such things - but Amy was not comfortable having him out of reach of medical attention for very long, even though Geoff himself seemed to be more relaxed and at ease there than at home. 

The grammar of their relationship had changed in many ways. She kept their checkbook and paid their bills, kept track of his doctor's appointments and drove him to and from them. Where once he had taught and cared for her, now she cared for him - and she knew that when he grumpily allowed it, when he cooperated as she helped him on the toilet and bathed and changed him when he had an accident, that it was, for that hard, proud man, an expression of love and trust beyond any other. 

If they had both been young, and Geoff had required such care because he had been ill or injured, no one would have thought it strange. They would have found it admirable, touching. 

Both Geoff and Amy felt just that way; old age was not a part of what Geoff was. It was the enemy, like disease or an injury, and they fought it together, every day and night. Where once he had been the strong one, the protector, their roles had shifted now. 

On one occasion, when they were leaving their local Wal-Mart, they were confronted by a young mugger in the parking lot - and it became clear just how much had changed. 

He was a skinny young junkie, visibly shaking with his need for drugs. He waved a cheap knife and grated, "Gimme your purse and the old fart's wallet and I won't hurt you. Come on, hurry up!" 

Geoff glared at him, his eyes flashing - but he did not move. Amy just smiled at the young thug. "And what if I don't?" 

As Geoff turned to stare at Amy, the kid gaped at her - then snarled and lunged at her with the knife.

And in less than the space of a single heartbeat, he was lying on the pavement and whimpering, cradling a broken wrist. His knife lay on the asphalt 30 feet away, and Amy was dialing 911 on her cell phone and looking down at him impassively. 

The kid looked up at her. "Don't get up," she said matter-of-factly. "If you move, I'll kill you." 

He nodded, holding his arm, and shut his eyes. The trio waited for the police to arrive with no further incident. 

---

Afterward, Geoff felt badly about it - at first. 

"I should have been the one to take that little son of a bitch out, Punkin," he growled angrily as they drove home. 

"You were, Geoffie," she said. He looked at her - still angry, but puzzled. 

Amy smiled at him. "Who was it that taught me how to do that?" she asked. "Who insisted that I learn it?" 

He looked ahead thoughtfully, at the road unwinding before them in the darkness. "You were protecting me then, ten years ago, Geoff," she went on. "Today it paid off. I wasn't afraid at all. But you were the one who made it happen." 

"Mmm," the old man said. "I didn't think of that." He nodded, then smiled. "Thanks, Punkin. I feel better now." 

Then he grinned savagely. "I'd feel even better if I could have felt that punk's bone snap and not just heard it."

She grinned back. "That did feel pretty good, Geoffie. Thanks for teaching me how to do it." 

She wasn't shifting gears, so she took his old hand and squeezed it. He squeezed back...

And her nurse's training immediately had her senses on alert. His grip was far weaker than it should have been. 

She looked at him, noted the sagging look of the right side of his face - and she turned the car around and drove straight to the hospital, speed limits be damned. 

--- 

"He seems to be fine now," said the young physician. "It was probably what we call a TIA - a Transient Ischemic Accident." 

"A mini-stroke," she said, nodding. They were in the waiting area near the emergency room. 

"That's right. Probably the stress of the mugging that provoked it. Like I say, he seems to be fine now, but I'd like to keep him overnight, just in case." 

"Of course. But I'll be staying with him." 

The doctor smiled. "You seem very close to your grandfather." 

Amy smiled sweetly. "You might say we're close, yes. He's my husband." 

A nurse emerged, pushing a scowling Geoff, wearing a hospital gown, in a wheelchair. The doctor blinked at the young woman, at the old man, and then stammered, "Yes, well, uh, well, we'll be putting him in -" He looked down at his clipboard. "-Room 417."  

She nodded and went to Geoff, who frowned at her. "Just for one night, Big Heart. We'll go home in the morning. Okay?" 

He snorted. "Do I have a choice?" he growled as the nurse began rolling him toward the elevator. 

"Nope. And I'm staying with you." 

"Now that's just stupid," he grumped. "I'm all right. Go home and sleep in a bed. Come get me in the morning." 

She patted his hand as the elevator door closed. "Not a chance, Marine." She bent down and kissed his head. "I'm not going anywhere." He tried to frown. 

---

During the night, the charge nurse came in to find Amy curled up beside the old man on the bed, snuggled under his arm in her jeans and T-shirt. She started to wake her - then smiled and let them be. 

---

Amy and Geoff left with a prescription and a warning that he should take it easy for a few days. 

Geoff had other plans. When they got home, he said, "We're going to Juicy, Punkin. Set it up." They were standing in the kitchen. 

"But, Geoffie -" 

"No buts, Amy. Do it. We leave - " He thought. "Day after tomorrow." 

She looked at him, then nodded. 

His eyes had grown cloudy, in the last year or so; but now they were as hard and clear as ice. 

She understood. He would not spend another night in a hospital bed. He would go on his own terms, in his favorite place, and with her at his side. 

--- 

The next morning, over breakfast, Amy sat down beside him with a serious expression. It was a little out of place; it was a Saturday, and she was naked. 

"Geoffie, let's talk about it. It's time." 

He took a sip of his coffee and looked at her. He smiled at her bare breasts, then nodded. 

"All right. I think we both know what's happening, Punkin, but if it'll make you feel better, we'll talk." 

Geoff already had a Living Will, had given Amy a medical power of attorney years before, and they had long since established his wishes regarding end-of-life issues and afterward. 

He had insisted on a DNR - a Do Not Resuscitate order; he was not willing to linger. "I'm going out quick or I'm not going," was his half-serious, half-joking expression.

But this was different. "Geoff - why are we going to the island?" 

He looked at his coffee, and then at her face. "Amy, it won't be long. I feel it coming. I feel - unsteady. About half here, like I have one foot on the other side already." 

She looked at him warily. "You've been having symptoms? You need to tell me -" 

He shook his head as he interrupted her. "Nothing like that, Punkin," he murmured. "It's just a feeling. C'mere." He held out his arms, and the nude young woman rose and carefully sat in his lap. 

He stroked her smooth back, and she leaned her head on his. "How long are we going to stay, Geoffie?" she asked, knowing the answer. 

"As long as it takes," he said quietly. "We're going to our island, Amy. And I won't be coming back." 

He smiled at her sad expression. "It's all right, Punkin. You know how it is for us there - every day is forever. I hope it'll be for months. It won't be years..." 

Then he grinned. "But I figure I have a better shot at going to Heaven if I'm already there when I die."

She hugged him, and he held her; and for a moment, it was as if no time had passed. He was still strong, still in control. 

He cupped the back of her head and kissed her, gently. "Come with me, Amy. Go naked in Paradise for me again, for as long as it lasts. For as long as we have. Come with me." 

"I will," she whispered. 

He kissed her again. Then, "Set up weekly shipments of supplies for us," he said. "And pack some clothes this time. You'll need them when the plane comes in - and when you bring me back." She nodded, her eyes sad. 

He smiled. "Between deliveries, I want you naked, though. Just like now." 

She smiled back at him then, and a little of the old twinkle came back into her strange eyes. "Naked and barefoot," she whispered. He nodded, and hugged her again. They clung to each other for a while, then Amy whispered, "I need to make some calls and get packed."

He nodded, and looked up at her as she stood. "What are you packing?" he asked, curious. 

"All your favorite dancing costumes, my baby oil, my dildos... You know. The essentials." She grinned. "You want Heaven, Geoffie?" she asked. "I'll take you there." 

He was still holding her hand, and he kissed her small white fingers. "You always have, Little Heart," he said. "I've lived there for ten years now." 

Her eyes filled, and she impulsively hugged him yet again. "Now, none of that," he murmured into her breast. 

"No, Geoffie. None of that." She stroked his spotted old head. "I'm just proud of you, that's all." 

He hugged her back, his lined old cheek pressed against her soft young breasts. There was nothing to say. 

She kissed his head and went to the phone. 

---

"Jimmy? This is Amy Rider. Yeah.... Day after tomorrow. I dunno, I haven't got the tickets yet. I'll call you back with the flight information. And there's more...." --- 

They stood on the dock and watched the plane fly off to the east, back to Tahiti. When it was all but out of sight, Amy knelt and opened one of her suitcases, then began to undress. 

As Geoff watched, smiling, she stripped till she was absolutely naked; then she folded her clothes neatly and tucked them into the bag. 

As always, Geoff admired the sweet grace of her every movement, the lovely lines of her bare body. Even the curve of her pretty bare toes as she knelt was beautiful... 

She was unfolding a large white trash bag. "What are you doing?" he asked, puzzled. 

As he watched, she closed the suitcase and placed it in the trash bag. She tied a twisty around the neck to close it, then looked up. 

"For as long as we're here, my clothes are going to stay out here on the dock, Geoffie. I'm not going to set foot on the island wearing anything. Anything at all." She smiled up at him and shivered. "It's not quite as hot as having you burn all my clothes - but it's close." He smiled at her. "Thank you, Punkin. I love it. And I love you." He pointed with his stick. "What's the trash bag for?" 

"In case it rains, silly." She stood and embraced him. "When we hear the plane coming, I should have time to hurry out here and get dressed."

"That'll be fun to watch," the old man said with a grin. She slapped his chest lightly. "Dirty old man," she said. 

"Naughty naked girl." 

She felt the peace and relaxation in him as they kissed. He's right, she thought. This is where we need to be. 

--- 

That afternoon, a miracle occurred. 

Geoff was relaxing with a beer in front of their little hut and watching with pleasure as his naked slave girl belly-danced for him on the sand. He smiled and gazed at Amy contentedly as she writhed and wiggled for him with all the skill she had, all of her pale flesh quivering and jiggling as she gave him her body in one of the only ways he could still enjoy her.

Or so they thought. 

As Amy squatted and pumped her bald, wet pussy at him lewdly, shaking her breasts and blowing him kisses, her amazing eyes suddenly went wide. 

"Geoffie! Look!" 

He looked down, and was as surprised as she. The old warrior had a hard-on, for the first time in more than a year. 

She hurried to him eagerly and knelt to touch him and take him in her mouth. The naked young woman shivered and sighed to feel her tongue and lips on his erect cock again. "It's been so long," she murmured as she licked his dick, her eyes closed in ecstasy. She wrapped her mouth around his dickhead gratefully and savored the taste of his pre-cum; she licked and sucked him, ever so lovingly, ever so happily, able once again to hold the center of her whole world in her mouth. 

For his part, Geoff relaxed and enjoyed it, thrilled, grateful, but expecting nothing - and when his darling Amy squatted over him and guided his stiff old dick into her wet, warm, and heartbreakingly familiar pussy, he breathed a little prayer of thanks. 

She heard him, and whispered, "Amen, Lord. Thank you..." 

She began to slide her trembling pussy up and down on his quivering cock. In seconds, they were moving together as if they had last fucked that morning, and they were lost in the precious sensation that they both loved so much - and in the souls' touch they found there. They embraced and kissed and fucked, gently, gratefully, warmly. 

It did not last long; but it was one of the best they ever shared. They couldn't know how long it would last, so there was no holding back. Amy came on him three times, squealing like a virgin and clinging to him adoringly, before he shuddered and came in her himself. 

The old man held her close and spurted deep inside her, tears leaking from his eyes. He wept with pleasure he never thought to know again, with the poignant knowledge that it might be the last, and with gratitude that that moment had come again at all. 

When he looked at his love's face, he saw that her eyes were wet, too - and, he knew, for the same reasons. 

They held each other for a long time afterwards. They kept their connection for as long as they could, and as he softened inside her with merciful slowness, they lost themselves in deep kisses as if their love had just begun. 

His dick finally slipped from her wet opening, and she kissed him, smirked, and rose into a feral crouch. The sun had not yet set, and once more again, she reveled in showing him his cum as it drooled and hung from her wet, red hole - and once more again, he gasped at her lewdness and her love. 

"My nasty naked girl," he breathed.

"My dirty old man," she whispered back - and squeezed out some more. 

--- 

Perhaps it was the clean sea air; perhaps it was the deep sense of peace and contentment he felt at being in control once more, choosing where he was, where he would go, and how it would end; perhaps it truly was a miracle - but it happened again and again. 

They did not seek it or work for it. But sometimes, when they cuddled, or when Amy danced or masturbated for his pleasure, or when they were just talking - the old soldier's old soldier came to attention and reported for duty. 

They accepted the gift as what it was, and - another miracle - they never failed to cum, usually together. Geoff was always the passive partner as Amy crouched or knelt or squatted or lay over him, but that was all right. They even explored some new variations; Amy squatting on him facing his feet, treating him to the sweet and lovely - and hot and nasty - view of her pretty bare ass pumping up and down on his cock as she fondled his old balls with her soft hand. 




Canon Ch. 08



Once or twice a week; no more, and sometimes less. But that was more than they could have hoped for, if they had dared to hope at all. It was enough, and more than enough. It was Heaven. They were not yet finished. 

--- 

Their lovemaking was a blessing, but it was infrequent. It was not the center of their life on the island. That was their love and deep friendship, their comfort with each other, the absolute trust and caring that they shared.

Sensuality was still with them, though, and that always. Geoff began to go naked, too, and his aged body grew brown from the sun. They touched each other as they liked. They had long since learned that intimacy, even sexual intimacy and carnal pleasure, did not depend on orgasm. 

Even so, Amy came every day. Geoff insisted on it, and he licked and sucked her sweet pussy to orgasm, or held her and felt her up, or watched her work one of her knobby, buzzing dildos in her hole as she looked back at him in devotion and ecstasy. He loved to make her sweat and keep her quivering on the brink, to tease her and please her and play her lovely bare body like a violin. 

Even with all that, Geoff knew that it was still a hard time for Amy, and would grow still harder. He held her when she cried for him and reminded her of her own lesson. "That's tomorrow, Punkin," he'd whisper. "Today is the only time there is." 

They talked and cuddled and swam in the endless sea; they played games and laughed and watched the sunsets and the stars and sat by the fire. 

They ate what they liked. Amy put on a bit more weight, and her pale skin slowly took on that golden glow that Geoff so loved - and perhaps her curvy, sun-kissed body, so sweetly bare and lovely for him at all times, was another aspect of Paradise that made Geoff's cock stand up and their time stand still. 

---

And how long did they live so, there, on the island? 

In one sense, it didn't matter. Each day was an eternity; no past, no future, just that endless day - and there were many. It seemed, sometimes, that they had been there for years. For decades. Forever. And perhaps they were. 

After four months on the island, they began to wonder just how long they could and would go on in this way; but they never talked about going home. Coming here, they knew, was what had restored Geoff, had given him new life, had given him more time. This time. 

It truly was Paradise. No worries, no responsibilities, no schedule, no appointments, no pressure. They played and laughed like children, and answered to no one but each other. 

Sunlight, starlight and moonlight; sand and sea, wind and rain. No silly television, no newspapers, no movies, no politics. No traffic, no muggers, no city noise. No one to look at them strangely, to wonder, or to laugh. There were only the earth, the sea, their love, and each other, and they would stay and savor this magical time as long as it lasted.

---

They kept in touch with Amy's parents and a few close friends by satellite phone; they laughed over the fact that they rarely knew the day of the week, let alone the date. Neither mattered. 

The sound of the plane was always a surprise, and Amy would either scurry to the dock and try to dress before it skimmed across the lagoon, or hide naked in the brush until it left. 

The days went on and on. Each night, in each other's arms, was a prayer; each morning was an answer and a blessing. 

But they knew it couldn't last forever - and it didn't. 

--- Geoff awoke before sunrise. He was lying beside Amy on their featherbed, outside their hut under the Pacific sky. He looked up at the stars; he was instantly wide awake, all his senses acute and aware. 

Now, he thought. Right now. He lay there without moving. 

There was a sharp, hot pain between his shoulder blades and snaking down his left arm. His chest felt as if there were a strap bound tightly around it and drawing tighter; he could hardly breathe. 

He knew what it was. 

Geoff looked at Amy, sleeping peacefully beside him; then he looked at the beach beyond her, at the small waves breaking on the sand. 

His first thought was to somehow slip away quietly and go down to the water, alone; then he looked at Amy again. 

No. 

He smiled, even through the pain, as he thought it: I'd never hear the end of it if I did that to her... 

The old man knew he had only minutes. His left arm was curled close to his chest; he reached out and touched her face with his right, then laid it down again. 

Amy woke and looked at him - and gasped. His face was drawn and ashen, his eyes narrowed in agony. "Geoffie! What-" 

"Hold me, Punkin," he said, his voice deep, but weak. "It's time." 

"Oh, no! Geoffie-" 

"It's all right, Little Heart," he whispered through the pain. "It's coming quick. Like I wanted it." He closed his eyes. "Play the Canon, Amy love. And hold me." 

She touched the player. As the slow, deep notes began, she slid upward and cradled his bald old head against her breasts. "Oh, Geoffie - I love you so much..."

He nuzzled her. The violas picked up the theme. 

"Love you too. My heart." He was struggling to breathe, to speak. 

He looked up at her. "Thank you. Punkin. You gave me. Back myself. Best years. Of my life." The violins began to weave the counterpoint. 

"Oh, Geoffie. Who could have loved me like you?" Her tears ran down her cheeks as she stroked his face. 

He shook his head and smiled - then winced again. The counterpoint grew more complex, the harmonies weaving round each other. 

She kissed him, and he kissed her back. The music soared and swirled around them, and they clung to each other and kissed again. 

"Goodbye, my love," she whispered. "You were always my hero." 

He smiled and shook his head again. "I'll be. Here. With you. You'll. See." 

He gasped and shivered - and held on a little longer. 

They hung on to each other and waited for the end. Amy stroked his head and cheek and cradled him in her arms. Geoff clung to her with his one good arm, his face against her chest. The music took them and swept them away, even at that moment - perhaps especially at that moment. 

For one last time, time seemed to stop for them; there was only that moment, and the music, and the touch of each other's hearts. 

She felt him relax - but he was not gone. He had stopped fighting it, stopped resisting, moved past the pain. He lay quietly in her arms and listened - and Amy began to hum for him, the eight deep, endlessly repeated tones of the basses. He smiled and nodded against her chest, and she held him close and hummed and rocked him as he listened. 

The music rose to its climax and lifted them, comforted them, both of them. It brought them peace, as it always had. They listened and let it take them, and they loved each other and rocked each other and knew that everything was all right... 

And Amy hummed her Geoff to sleep, one last time. 

--- 

The music had ended. There was only the sound of the waves, and the wind in the palms. 

The old man's face was peaceful, even smiling. She gently closed his eyes - and smiled, even as she wept. Even in death, his old eyes were on her face, soft and filled with love. 

She straightened his arms and legs, as she knew he would have wanted. She kissed his old cheek once more - then she kissed his mouth, his eyes, and his forehead; and only then did she finally cover him with the sheet. 

Then she cried, kneeling naked beside him. She let herself feel her loss, and sobbed, shaking with her grief - for a while. 

But Geoff had taught her to be strong. She finally wiped her eyes, found the satphone, and called the numbers he had left for her. Then she began to dress. 

The day had not yet begun, and Amy knew it would be the longest of her life. 

--- 

Amy sat beside him on the sand, her arms around her knees. It felt strange to be wearing her jeans and T-shirt, after going naked for so long. The sky was just beginning to show a hint of light in the east. 

She looked up at the millions of stars above her. Where are you, my love? she thought. Are you up there somewhere? She rested her cheek on her knee and looked at the shrouded, familiar form beside her. 

Oh, Geoffie, she thought. I miss you so already... 

- and then it happened. 

For an instant, no more, she was surrounded with it - more tangible than the sense of his love and presence that accompanied it, more unmistakable than the almost audible words she sensed in her mind - 'I'm still here, Punkin'... 

Amy was surrounded by the smell of him, the warm, masculine scent of Geoff's body. She inhaled it deeply; she knew it like she knew her own name, and there was no mistaking it. It was all around her... 

- and then it was gone; but the feeling of his presence remained. 

"Thank you, Geoff," she breathed, her mouth open in wonder. 

She looked at the shape beneath the sheet and smiled. "Thank you, my love. You promised. I should have known you'd keep it." 

She hugged her knees and sighed, smiling wistfully, though her strange eyes were still red. 

It'll be all right, she told herself. Somehow, it will. 

---

She heard it approaching as the sun came up; a Marine helicopter, a big twin-rotor Chinook. She was still sitting beside Geoff's body on the sand, waiting with him on the beach as it landed beyond the dock. 

As the young men approached her, she stood. "Ma'am, are you all right?" 

She looked up into the concerned eyes of a young buck sergeant. Several other Marines in utility uniforms stood behind him. She realized that her face was wet with tears. "Yes. Yes, I'm all right." 

"We're here to take you and Sergeant-Major Rider back to Pearl, Ma'am," said the sergeant. "There's a battle group in the area, and the Navy has diverted our ship and an escort for the trip. Will you come with us?" 

"Of course," she said. She looked down at the sheet-covered form. "Here he is. Please be careful." 

"We will, Ma'am. I promise you," he said softly. 

They carefully slid the old soldier's body into a black body bag - they wondered at her smile; she was thinking how that was what he had wanted, so very long ago - and carried him onto the aircraft with great respect and care. 

---

She rode beside him to the battle cruiser that took them to the Naval base at Pearl Harbor, then accompanied his flag-draped casket back to their home town. The flight was not as comfortable as their first-class trip to reach the island; it took place in a Navy C-130, and Amy insisted on riding with Geoff's casket, as she had aboard the ship. She would not allow him to be left alone. 

When they arrived, late at night, two days after Geoff's passing, there was an honor guard waiting - and Amy's parents were there, too. They embraced their daughter, and held her as she wept for a few moments. 

"What can we do, sweetheart?" asked her father gently. Her mother stroked her back and leaned her head on Amy's. 

"Take me home, Daddy," she said. 

A Marine officer waited nearby. After Amy signed off on the arrangements the Corps had made, making a few changes, they took her back to the big old house she had shared with Geoff. 

Amy made sure her parents were comfortable in her room - though she was the widow, they were still her guests - and then she went into the bedroom she had shared with Geoff, alone. She knew what she would find there. 

Loneliness, and tears - and the comfort of her memories. She knew the Canon was there, on the CD player beside the bed - but she could not bear to play it, not that night. 

But just as she felt herself sliding toward sleep, Amy felt mysteriously warmed by a sense of love and caring that surrounded her - and, a moment later, for the first time since that morning on the island, she caught the warm scent of him as she lay in their bed. 

She smiled - and then, on impulse, she wriggled out of her T-shirt and panties and snuggled beneath the blankets, as naked as she had always been with him. 

Only then did she reach out and start their beloved Canon - and she drifted gently off to sleep, with both tears and a sweet smile on her lovely face. 

---

She dreamed of his arms, and of sleeping peacefully, safe and warm, as he held her. 

Perhaps he did. 

--- 

Geoff's military funeral was deeply moving. The same Methodist church where they were married was packed with flowers, and many men and women in uniform came to pay their respects and give Amy their sympathy. 

To Amy's surprise, the music was not pre-recorded, but was provided by a sextet of Marine musicians in dress uniform. "The Marine's Hymn," Whiting's "For Those in Peril on the Sea," "Amazing Grace" - and, last, Pachelbel's "Canon in D." 

The last, of course, was specified by Amy, and she sat and wept quietly as the musicians reverently did it justice. Many of those present remembered watching the couple listen to it at Symphony Hall, and, watching, joined her, weeping in sympathy.

The solemn, stylized movements of the honor guard, as they lifted and folded the flag that draped Geoff's casket, brought tears to the eyes of many as well. When the young lance corporal knelt and presented it to Amy - "on behalf of the President of the United States and a grateful nation" - she accepted it with dignity and grace, then held it clasped against her heart for the rest of the service. 

There was a 21-gun salute at the graveside, followed by that most difficult and moving moment of all - the playing of "Taps" by a trumpeter visible atop a nearby hill. The ache and sorrow were felt even by those who never knew Geoff, and no one moved till the last echoing note died away. 

Amy stopped the service for a moment then, lifting her small hand before the casket was lowered into the ground. 

As the others waited, she knelt by Geoff's coffin for a few moments, with her hand on top of it. Her lips were moving, but no one knew what she said - or whether she was speaking to God, to Geoff, or both. 

She took her place beside her parents again, and it was done. 

--- 

Amy's parents stayed for a few days; but she seemed to be holding up well, and they eventually returned home. 

"Are you sure you won't come home with us for a while, sweetheart?" her father asked as they said goodbye on the veranda of the big house. 

She smiled. "Thanks, Daddy, but no. I'll stay here. This is home, now. Besides, I start at Riverview on Monday, and they're counting on me."

Her mother hugged her. "You're taking this so well, Amy. I'm so proud of you." She smiled. "Geoffrey would be, too." 

He is, she thought; then said, "Well, it wasn't a shock, Mom. I've known this was coming for a long time." Then she smiled wistfully. "And he went easy, on the island. Like he wanted to." 

A few more hugs and kisses, and they left. Amy waved as they drove through the gate, then went back inside. 

The big old house was quiet, and very empty - but Amy smiled. It was filled with Geoff's personality, from the worn old hardwood floors to the worn old leather sofa. She couldn't imagine living anywhere else. 

It's not like I'd miss him less if I went back with Mom and Dad, she thought. 

She looked around at the kitchen where they had talked and laughed and loved. I'd miss him more, she thought. No, I want to be here. 

For an instant, she saw a vision of him in her mind - standing in the kitchen in his ridiculous hipboots and parka and scuba mask and mittens, playing the fool to make her laugh. All his seriousness and dignity and macho thrown out the window, just to make her feel good. 

Good, and naked, she thought. She laughed, even as the tears fell from her eyes. 

She looked out the window at the pool, and on impulse, she shed her clothes, flipped the switch by the back door that started the waterfall, and walked out the back door naked. 

As she walked across the grass, she thought: yes, this feels right. This is how I want to be. 

Naked. For Geoffie. 

She could almost feel him watching her. 

She dived in, and the water, cool and cleansing, washed her tears away. 

--- 

The days went by. She had no need to work; Geoff had left her very well provided for indeed. But rattling around that big old house all day, every day, would not have suited her. 

Amy volunteered at a nearby nursing home, caring for the elderly residents with compassion, good humor, and skill. The old people sensed her respect and understanding, and grew to love her and look forward to her visits. They became her friends as well as her patients. 

Amy enjoyed her time at the facility too, and before long she was there from morning till evening most weekdays. So many of the residents there were so lonely - virtually abandoned and forgotten by their families - that her heart went out to them; but she enjoyed their company too. Their memories were fascinating; that all had wonderful stories to tell, and loved to tell them and to have someone to listen. Even those whose minds were no longer as sharp as they had once been were comforted by a touch, or a hug, or just some time not being alone. 

She enjoyed just sitting and talking with the residents, but she didn't balk at helping them use the toilet or changing their clothes and bedding, either. Both she and they knew that those were expressions of love and caring as much as a hug or a kiss - and her good humor and jokes as she helped them allowed them to keep their dignity, and that was the most precious thing of all. 

Geoff had taught her more than how to fight and shoot. 

---

She was content to live alone where they had once lived together, and spend her days and nights in what had been his space, and then theirs. 

She missed him still, and badly. She dreamed of him often, and woke up smiling - or crying. She hugged her pillow in the bed they had shared and dreamed of his arms, his touch, his deep, soft voice. 

She lay alone, reading, on the couch they had shared so often, and missed him even as her mind was occupied. She never took a shower, or a swim, or a steam, or ate a meal, or looked in a mirror, when she did not think of him. She didn't cry so much, after a few weeks; but she ached for him, and felt his absence, every minute of every day...

Except for those strange, rare moments when he seemed to be nearby. She felt his warm presence, or smelled his scent, or seemed to remember and almost hear or feel his voice or his touch with especial vividness. Those moments were rare, but seemed to grow no rarer; and they seemed to come to her when she needed them most. 

And then, one night - a couple of months after his passing - she dreamed a dream that was different. 

--- 

....Amy was crouching naked over Geoff in the steam room, running with sweat, breathing in the searing fog, pumping her clenching pussy on his stiff organ as he caressed her slick body and kissed her deeply. She pressed herself against him and clung to him, trembling as she slid her gushing hole up and down on his cock, sucking him off with her pussy, working to draw out his cum... 

She felt him shudder, and ground her wet crotch into him and sucked on his tongue; she felt his orgasm rising as they fucked, so close, so lovingly, so bare and warm in the sunlight, naked on their beach....

And she jerked and shivered helplessly as she came on his spurting bone, writhing beneath him in their bed as he stabbed his squirting cock as deep inside her as he could, groaning into her mouth, pulling at her desperately even as she worked to make him cum harder.... 

Amy awoke as she came down from her orgasm. Her sheets were soaked, her body shaking, and her pussy was spasming still. She was confused to find herself holding her knees back and wide apart, her hips cocked upward, still working subtly. What on Earth.... 

It was so real, she thought as she lowered her legs and tried to stop trembling. So real... 




Canon Ch. 08



I should've known it was a dream when the place kept changing, she thought. But still.... 

It was so real... 

She rolled onto her side, and froze. 

That smell.... 

That was more than the scent of Geoff's body. That was his sweat, his armpits, the smell of his exertion and excitement. 

She knew it well, even though she had not smelled it since the island. She had smelled it in the weight room, in the steam room, and lying under him when they fucked. She loved that smell. There was no doubt. 

She lay awake in their bed. 

What was happening? 

---

Morning, two days later. Amy was preparing a simple breakfast for herself and thinking. 

It had been more than three months since the funeral; she still ached, and missed Geoff terribly, but that vivid and unexpected sense of his presence seemed to come to her at the times she felt most bereft and alone - sometimes mysteriously accompanied by his scent, and sometimes not. 

That gave her something to think about, and reminded her of their most precious memories. It was enough to blunt the pain. 

But night before last - that was different. 

She shivered as she transferred her eggs to a small plate. Dreams usually fade in a few hours if you don't speak of them; but her memory of this dream only grew more vivid, more real. She could still almost feel his hands on her sweaty body, her hands in his coarse, straight hair.... 

Wait a minute....

His hair? 

The memory, from her dream, was clear. But...

Her brain hit a brick wall on that one. She shook her head to clear it. 

Amy sat down to eat. She dropped a bit of egg on her thigh - and only then did she consciously notice that she was naked. 

Well, it's Saturday, she thought - and then realized what she had done. She had dressed for Geoff, going naked for the weekend. 

She pushed her plate aside and began to cry. 

"Oh, Geoffie," she sobbed. "What am I going to do? I miss you so much..." 

--- 

A short time later, she got up from the table and looked down at the seat of her chair. A random thought occurred to her; how long has it been since I had my period? 

She last remembered putting in a tampon....

On the island....? 

Couldn't be, she thought. 

She had gone off birth control more than a year before. Geoff had firmly declared that he was too old to raise a child, but after his equipment stopped functioning, there didn't seem much point in continuing with the Pill.... 

She made a mental note to pick up a pregnancy test at the store, then forgot about it. 

Surely not.... 

---

The vivid sex dreams came no more than once every couple of weeks. They were eerily real - but there were strange, jarring aspects of them that she found vaguely disturbing. 

He was younger in those dreams, and only in those; he had a full head of black, straight hair, and there was something different about his eyes - something that she could not quite put her finger on when she awoke. 

Geoff had had curly hair when he was young. She had long since gone out to the garage to look again at the picture of him with his Deuce sedan; and sure enough, his hair in the faded old photo was thick and curly. 

The differences were troubling, and confusing. Still, Amy found herself looking forward to those dreams. She did not masturbate, and always slept naked, both in hopes that one would come to her in the night. 

And sometimes - not often enough, but sometimes - one did. 

--- 

...They were making love by the pool, naked under the warm sun. Geoff kissed her throat, and she stroked his hair and lifted her chin for it.

This time was even more different; Amy was aware that it was a dream, even as it first began. She opened her eyes and looked at the waterfall as Geoff kissed her shoulder. It seemed real; she could hear it, and could even smell the chlorine in the water. 

She had read of "lucid dreams," when one knew that one was dreaming and could control it; but she had never had one. She decided to try it. 

She sat up on the grass and put her hand on his chest. He sat up, too, and looked at her. 

He was much younger than Geoff had been, no more than forty. He had no scars. His hair was long, straight, and jet black; and his face was subtly different. This is Geoff - but not Geoff, she thought. 

If she spoke to him, would he answer? 

"Geoff?" 

He grinned, and his smile was different too. "What, naked girl?" 

His voice was not as deep, not as resonant. But she felt the same love and trust from him...

What's going on here? she thought, still inside the dream. 

He moved closer. "Open the door for me, sweet heat." 

Sweet heat. Geoff had never called her that, but she liked it. 

In the dream, she knew what he meant by "open the door" - and she lay back and opened her legs, pulling her knees back, exposing herself to him completely.

This was the most vivid dream ever; she felt the individual blades of grass on her skin, was conscious of her curling toes, the sun on her nipples, the curve of his huge cock as he rubbed it against her oozing lips... 

That was different, too. This Geoff's cock was bigger, and curved upward more, with a head that flared outward more at the rim... 

She thought of the shower, and they were there - and he was inside her, his big, iron-hard dick sliding in and out, his hands holding her ass as the warm spray bathed them both.

She forgot to ask more questions, lost in the sensation, lost in the dream again. She felt the tiles against her skin, smelled the fragrant soap, his hands on her body, hers on his... 

She humped back at him gratefully, hungrily, reveling in the feel of being fucked again, by her only love, so good, so good... 

--- 

When she awoke - covered with sweat once more, as she was after all the fucking dreams - she had much to think about; but she had nothing to think with.

What did it mean? Why was this Geoff different, but somehow the same? Why did these dreams begin now, so long after, so long since he'd been gone? 

She had no answers. 

---

A few days later, Amy had something else to think about. Seeing the big blue cross on the pregnancy test stick had filled her with both joy and trepidation. She had a part of Geoff inside her, and his line would go on - but raising a child? Was she ready? 

Guess I'll have to be, she thought. 

Then she smiled. Geoff's child....

I'll be ready. 

--- 

She was walking back to her car after helping a coworker take some boxes into her apartment at a complex near the nursing home. It was not a good part of town, and her senses were on high alert as she approached the Camry. 

She heard their steps before she heard the ugly laughter. She turned, betraying no nervousness or fear. 

There were three of them, none of them small. One held a long-bladed knife; one held a handgun. The third held both. 

Her mind snapped into overdrive. She felt no fear at all; she was too focused on analyzing the situation to have time or attention for it. Geoff had told her about this.

"Hey, pretty mama. We want your purse. And then we want your car. And then we want your pussy." The laughter again. 

She wasn't looking at their faces. She was assessing the threat. 

Left-hand guy held a knife; dismiss. Middle guy held a .45, like Geoff's, same gun she had trained with. The gun was uncocked, chamber probably empty. Right-hand guy, cheap automatic, probably a .25. Safety was on. 

Let them come closer. Closer. Middle guy reaching for her purse.... 

Everything went into slow motion then; some force, more than her training, more than herself, took over. It was as if she stood outside herself watching, even her thoughts, as the next few seconds passed in strangely slowed-down and closely observed detail.

....Slap right-hand guy's gun away, grab middle guy's .45, twist sharply to left to break finger with triggerguard, ignore scream, transfer gun to right hand, rack slide to chamber round, two-hand grip, flash sight picture on right-hand guy, gun coming up, now, now, center chest, double tap, bang, bang, left-hand guy coming in with knife, ignore, center chest, bang, bang, center chest middle guy, second knife, too close, center face, bang, bang, check other two, both falling, middle guy going down too, check perimeter, no other hostiles approaching, muzzle up, step back, assess. Three bad guys on the ground, none moving. All secure. 

.....Suddenly time went back to normal, and Amy found herself holding the big .45 and pointing it at the sky. Her ears were ringing, but she had no memory of having heard the shots. 

And there were three dead men at her feet. 

"Thank you, Geoffie," she whispered. She knew who had taken over her mind and body for those critical few seconds. She could not have done this herself, and those thoughts had not been her own. 

For a brief moment, she knew, she had actually been inside Geoff's mind, and he inside hers. 

And she knew something else; he was as proud of her as she was grateful to him. She had not frozen up nor panicked. If she had, he could not have taken over. 

She knew what to do now. She flipped open her cell phone and dialed 911. 

"Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?"

She looked around as she answered. No one had come out to investigate; in this neighborhood, you stayed inside when you heard shots. "I just killed three men who were about to rob and rape me," she said, quite calmly. 

There was an instant of silence on the line. 

"Would you say that again, please, Miss?" 

--- 

Amy had not moved when the first police car pulled up. She still held the gun; she knew it still contained one live round, and she had kept it ready till the police got there. 

As the high beams illuminated her, she laid the weapon at her feet and held up both hands to show them empty. As the officers exited the car and came toward her, she kept her hands visible. 

The senior officer, a sergeant by his stripes, looked down at the three bodies, then at the small young woman. He took his hat off and scratched his head. 

"What happened here, Miss? And may I see your I.D.?" 

--- 

Any was not arrested, through she was asked to come to the station and sign a formal statement. She was even allowed to drive her own car; it was deemed unwise to leave it unattended in that neighborhood. It probably helped that the senior officer was quite familiar with all three of the thugs she had killed. 

At the station, Amy calmly dictated a very clear and detailed account of what had transpired. After it was typed up, she read it over and signed it. 

Just as she finished, right on cue, an assistant district attorney stuck his head in the interrogation room and said, "She's good to go. City may give her a medal." Then he looked at Amy. "I guess those punks messed with the wrong lady," he said with a wry grin. 

Amy smiled. "I was lucky," she said. 

He came fully into the room and shook his head. "No, Mrs. Rider. You were..." He paused. "You are dangerous. There's not a cop on this force that could do what you did. I'm just glad you're one of the good guys." He smiled, nodded, and left. 

The sergeant who had first come to the scene was still sitting across from her. "Mrs. Rider," he said, "I meant to tell you earlier; let me offer my condolences on the death of your husband. He was a good man. The best."

She smiled. "Thank you. Please call me Amy. Did you know Geoff?" 

The old cop grinned. "I wrote him a big, fat speeding ticket once," he said. "A hundred and forty-five in a fifty zone. And that night he bought me a beer and we swapped war stories. We were friends." 

"Marine?" He nodded. "Semper fi," she said. 

They shook hands. "Listen, Amy," he said, "you're not the typical 'crime victim' here - it's hard to see how you're a 'victim' at all - but you still fall in that category. And that means there are services available to you, counseling and so on, that we have to offer." 

Amy began to get up. "I'm really not -" 

"I know," said the police sergeant. "But bear with us anyway. Our victim liaison has some paperwork for you anyway, a survey and like that." 

Then he grinned. "Besides, he's a new guy. We all can't wait to see how he deals with a 'victim' that kills the perps for us. I suspect that'll be a first for him." He shook his head. "It sure as hell was for me."

Amy sat back. "Well, okay. I don't want to screw up anyone's paperwork," she said dryly. 

The sergeant grinned. "Okay," he said. "Thanks. He'll be in in a minute. Nice meeting you, Amy." 

"I just wish it was under different circumstances," she said. 

He grinned again, a little savagely. "These circumstances will do just fine," he said. "I knew all of those boys, Amy. You did us all a big favor." 

She shrugged, nodded, and sat back to wait. 

As she sat, Amy examined her feelings. She knew that killing was supposed to be traumatic, haunting. 

She felt nothing. She had done what she had to do, no more. Those men's blood wasn't on her hands. It was on their own. 

She wondered what this man would have to offer her - and then the door opened. 

"Oh. Oh. Oh, my God," she said. 

It was Geoff - the Geoff from her erotic dreams. 

He was a young Geoff - and he wasn't. Shorter, his face broader, with a distinct Asian cast; his eyes bore a suggestion of the epicanthic fold, and his hair was black and straight. 

As he turned to look at her, his eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open, and he echoed her: "Oh, my God..." 

He was openly gaping, almost in shock; he dropped his papers and brochures all over the floor and ignored them, just staring. "Your eyes," he said, his voice strangled and shaky. "I know you..." 

"You've had the dreams too," she said in wonder. 

He nodded. "This can't be," he said. 

She smiled. "Evidently it can." 

Then, "Don't you have some papers for me?" 

"Uh. Uh, yeah. Just a minute..."

He gathered up the things he had dropped, his hands shaking, and deposited them on the table. He sat down, fumbled for a moment, then held out a card. 

Amy took it. "Jeffrey Collins, Victim Liaison," it read. 

She looked up. "May I call you Jeff?" she asked. He nodded, numbly, staring at her eyes. 

She smiled. "I think we need to talk."



Canon Ch. 09



Sergeant Jeffrey Collins was trying to keep his mind on the interview, but it was difficult. He was badly shaken. 

A month or two before, the 40-year-old victim liaison officer had begun having strangely vivid and detailed erotic dreams - all involving a beautiful woman he had never met. In some, her dark hair was hip-length; in some, it was short. Sometimes her skin was creamy-pale, sometimes lightly tanned; and the setting would change abruptly, as happens in dreams - one moment a bed, the next a beach, the next a grassy lawn by a pond, then a white-tiled room filled with hot, steamy vapor. All of the dreams were clear and vivid and eerily real in every detail, seemingly more real than the waking world, even as they changed and shifted. 

But, through all the shifts and changes, always, always, there were those amazing eyes. 

One pale blue, one deep brown. Sometimes magnified by glasses, sometimes not - but always compelling and disturbing. Strangely different, but somehow the same. 

In the dreams, those eyes bored into his soul, even as they engaged in the most passionate, intense and sensual lovemaking imaginable - fucking like practiced old lovers, with no inhibitions and nothing held back. 

Weirdest of all was the strange double perspective he seemed to have in the dreams - as if he were both himself and someone else. He felt emotions he could not name, that he had never felt in the waking world; things having to do with old regrets and dark memories - and of a strange new freedom, the peculiar absence of a hardness and coldness inside himself that he had never felt. 

But above all, he was aware of an intense and abiding love for this beautiful stranger, the one with the weird eyes, this woman he did not know. In the dreams, that - that deep love - was inside him as strongly as it was inside the mysterious other.  

Jeff had been puzzling over the dreams for weeks, and was in fact considering seeking medical help. 

And then he opened the door to the interrogation room and saw her sitting there - live and in person, in the real world, weird eyes, glasses, and all. And her name was Amy, and she was a real woman, and not a dream. 

It was the strangest moment of his life. He felt like Alice through the looking glass, dreaming and awake at the same time. 

---

He somehow managed to stumble through the paperwork required by his office. Amy answered most of the questions with "not applicable," and chose not to avail herself of any of the city's services for crime victims. 

He looked at her. It was hard to believe that this small and lovely young woman, initially unarmed, had killed three dangerous criminals a couple of hours before. She seemed as calm and composed as if she had seen it happen in a movie. 

There was even more to this woman than he had seen and sensed in the dreams, he realized. She was - fascinating. Unique. 

I can't believe she's real, he thought for the twentieth time. He smiled to himself. Gives a whole new meaning to "the woman of my dreams".... 

---

Jeff had regained his composure somewhat as they went through the questions, but it remained hard for him to concentrate. He was still distracted by the strangeness of the situation. Stranger still was the fact that she seemed to have had the dreams too - but took it in stride, as if it were normal to meet someone you've literally dreamed about. She knows more than she's telling, he thought. 

When they came to the last question on the survey - "Would you like followup calls or visits from the Victim Liaison Officer?" - Jeff looked at Amy with a shy smile and a raised eyebrow. 

"No," said Amy. 

He blinked, surprised. "No?"

She smiled. "There's a reason." She looked at the clock; it was approaching midnight. "How about having dinner with me tomorrow night?" she asked 

He blinked again. "I'm not supposed to, er, fraternize, with the people that I'm working with," he said uncertainly. 

"That's the reason." She grinned. "We're done now, aren't we?" 

He looked down at his checklist. "Well, yes. We are," he said. Then he looked up - and began to smile. 

"May I call you, um, Amy?" he asked. 

She looked at him with an amused, puckish expression. "I think you'd better. 'Mrs. Rider' doesn't seem quite right, now does it?" Then she laughed. 

He smiled, still rattled. "What time... Amy?" 

--- 

They met at Geoff's favorite steakhouse, and found themselves surprisingly - or not - comfortable together. Jeff had had a whole day to calm down, and though he was still far beyond puzzled, he had accepted the idea that Amy was real, and that there was some kind of connection between them. Her own calm acceptance of it helped. 

He tried not to think of the dreams themselves. He had seen the woman sitting across from him naked - naked, and holding her bare feet next to her ears as he slid his cock in and out of her sweet bald pussy....

Brrr. Maybe I should concentrate on the moment - some other sensory experience...

"This is the best steak I've ever eaten," said Jeff. "Are you sure you won't let me help pay for it?" 

Amy shook her head as she chewed. "Absolutely not," she said when she swallowed. "I asked you out, remember?" 

"Yeah, but..." He took another bite. What a strange woman, he thought again. And those eyes...

He let it go. Probably couldn't afford this place on a cop's salary anyway, he thought. 

They looked at each other, then looked away. Then again. And Amy giggled. 

"What?" asked Jeff. He was feeling painfully self-conscious and uncertain, and hoped he hadn't done something stupid. Besides the weird circumstance of the dreams, Amy was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen - and beauty is always hard on a man's composure. 

"Every time we look at each other, we both blush," she said. 

He smiled, then grinned. "Well, we do have a pretty good reason," he said. 

She nodded and smiled. "True," she said. "How do you get to know somebody you've already...." 

She stopped, and they both blushed again. Then they laughed. 

They ate in silence for a few minutes. 

"This is too weird," Jeff finally said. "How about if we pretend that there were no dreams, and we just start from there?" 

"I like that," said Amy. After a moment, she asked, "So where are you from, Jeff?" It was strange to speak that name - the same, yet different. "I hear you're new in town." 

"Hawaii, last," he said. "Originally, Japan." 

"Japan? Really? That's fascinating! How did you end up here?" 

"Well, my mom passed away a few months ago, I'd been divorced for a while - it was time to get out of Dodge and start over."

"I'm sorry to hear about your mom," said Amy. "I just lost my husband a few months ago." 

He nodded. "So I was told," he said. "A remarkable man, from what I hear." 

She nodded. "He was." She looked at him. "You have a very precise way of speaking," she said. "Kind of literary. I like it." He smiled, and his cheeks reddened again. She liked that, too. 

"Well, English is my second language, technically," he said. "I spoke Japanese at home till I was ten. My mom brought me to Hawaii about then, about 1980, and since then I've spoken only English. Before that, I spoke English in school and read a lot of English books." He took a sip of his iced tea. "My birth name - my mom's - was Tokugawa."

"Oh! Like Ieyasu Tokugawa? The first Shogun?" 

Jeff looked up, surprised. "You know about him?" 

"Oh, yes!" She started to say, my husband told me about him - then she recalled that Geoff had once mentioned knowing one of his descendants. 

She decided to remain silent about that for the moment. 

"Yes, that's my family. Funny you've heard of him. Most Americans haven't." 

"I love Japanese history and culture. Especially the cooking." She waved her fork. "And the martial arts." 

He smiled. "Why doesn't that surprise me?" 

She smiled and shrugged, then asked, "Why did your mom leave Japan?"

He held up two fingers. "Two reasons. One, she was following the job; she was a nurse in a U.S. Navy hospital, and they wanted her to transfer to the facility at Pearl Harbor. And second, it was to protect me."

"You?" 

He nodded. "I was having a hard time in Tokyo. Japanese culture is pretty insular, and they aren't kind to Amerasian kids without fathers. Mom wasn't married." 

Amy considered that for a moment. "That must have been hard." 

"I don't remember much about it. Mom had me in American schools on the base from first grade on. We left before I would have had to start in Japanese schools." He smiled. "The Americans were good to me." 

"So your dad was American? Are you sure?" 

He smiled. "Look at my face. He wasn't Japanese." 

She smiled back, and he was enchanted. Again. 

"I never knew him," he said, "and Mom never told him about me. All I know is that he was an American soldier who was a patient in the hospital there - and he was some kind of big hero. She named me after him, I think." 

"You think?" 

"When I asked her about it, she said my name was different. But other times, she said I had his name." He shrugged. 

Amy was nodding. Suspicions confirmed, she thought. I'll tell him later. 

--- 

They talked for hours, till the restaurant closed. Jeff was very like Geoff in many small ways, some of them surprising; he had many of the same physical mannerisms - the way he held his coffee cup with both hands, the way his eyes would go soft when he felt strongly about something, the way he'd look down for a moment, then up at her face when he said something important. 

But he wasn't Geoff. He wasn't as hard and overtly masculine as Geoff was. Though he was clearly and comfortably male, he seemed to have a softness, a caring quality, about him that Geoff had only had with her. 

"Why did your marriage -" She stopped and started over. "Er, why did you get divorced? If you don't mind my asking." She sipped her coffee and watched his eyes. 

He smiled. "Not at all. My mother was very ill toward the end. My wife wanted to put her in a nursing home, but there was no way I was going to do that. We kept her with us, and one day when I got home, my wife was gone." 

He frowned. "She left Mom lying in her own waste, all day. After Mom died, she wanted to come back. I told her to go to hell." He shrugged again. "Sorry. But you did ask."

"That's okay. I'm sorry you - and your mom - had to go through that."

He nodded. "Maybe it wasn't fair of me to expect her to help me care for my mom," he said. "But if you love somebody, that's what you do. At least that's how I learned it."

"Me, too," Amy said quietly. After a moment, she said, "I think I see why you're working with victims and not criminals. You like to take care of people." 

He smiled. "There's more to dealing with crime than catching the perps," he said. "You have to do something about the damage they do." 

She blinked. "Strange you ended up a police officer at all," she said. 

He smiled and lifted a hand, another gesture she had seen before. "It seemed the right niche for me." 

The waiter approached with a regretful smile. "I think we'd better go," said Jeff. "These people want to go home sometime." 

Amy laughed. "Okay. Send me the bill, Gunny," she said to the waiter.

The man nodded. "Will do, Mrs. Rider. Have a nice evening." He looked curiously at Jeff, but smiled and said nothing more. 

Jeff walked her to her car - the Jaguar. "I take it you've been here before," he said. 

"The headwaiter was a friend of my husband's." She smiled. "Thanks, Jeff. I had a great time." 

"Can I call you tomorrow?" 

She looked at him frankly. "You better," she said. "We have lots more to talk about." 

He nodded. "Yes, we do." He looked down for a moment, then up at her face - so like Geoff would have done. "I don't know what's going on here, Amy. I think maybe you do -" 

"I have an idea," she admitted. "But I'm as amazed as you are." 

"- but whatever it is - well, I'm strapped in for the ride." He smiled at her. "I like you. You're not like anyone I've ever met. I'd like to get to know you better." 

She cocked her head and looked up at him. "I feel the same way, Jeff." She smiled. "No promises. But let's see where this goes." 

On impulse, she kissed his cheek. Then she grinned. He grinned back, and they were both thinking the same thing; after all we've done in those dreams, that seemed kind of tame - and familiar. 

And they both thought something else: Eventually, we'll have to talk about those dreams. 

--- 

That night, Amy had another lucid dream. She somehow knew it would be the last. 

She was on the island, sitting on the beach; and she was naked. She felt the sea breeze and the sun on her body, the sand between her toes. It was as real as real. 

A figure was approaching, and she recognized him instantly - it was Geoff, as he had looked when they were first married. 

Old and bald, but strong and virile and sure of himself - and as happy as she had ever seen him. He wore cutoffs, nothing more. His skin was tanned and taut - and, she noticed, his scars were all gone. 

"Hello, Punkin," he said. "Seems I get to talk to you one more time, like this. I'm glad." 

"Hello, Geoffie," she said. "I've missed you." 

He sat beside her, and she came into his arms easily. He held her and rocked her a little, stroking her hair - and she realized it was long again, also like when they were first married. 

"Geoffie, I'm pregnant," she whispered. 

He smiled and nuzzled her head with his cheek. "I know," he said. "You're going to have a son, Amy. My son." 

She leaned back and blinked up at him curiously. He shrugged and said, "You learn things, over here." 

"Who is Jeff?" she asked. "Is he your son, too?" 

He nodded. "And he's a good man, Amy. I have two other sons and a daughter, it turns out." He grinned at her expression. "Hey, Punkin, I wasn't a saint, I was a soldier. Anyway, Jeff's the best of the bunch."

He looked up at the brilliant blue sky for a moment. "I was - allowed - to bring you two together, but that's all. I can't promise you it'll work; that's up to you two." Then he smiled. "But I have a good feeling about it." 

She pressed her cheek against his dear, familiar chest. "I've felt you with me," she said. "I've smelled you with me." 

"I was," he murmured. "And good job with those three hoodlums, Punkin. Couldn't have done it better myself." 

"But - but you did do that, Geoffie - didn't you?" 

He shook his head. "Nope," he said. "That was all you. I was very proud of you, too." 

She blinked up at him. "I thought -" 

"I know. But think: did you smell me around you then?" 

"Well..." She thought back. "No. No, I didn't. But I felt like I was watching myself - like everything was in slow motion and someone else was doing it. I didn't even hear the shots." 

He smiled. "That's what it's like, Punkin - real life-and-death combat. Now you know. Not many people do." 

He squeezed her. "It was all you, Amy. You're taking care of yourself now. I can't." He stroked her hair again. "And you're doing very well at it. You were taking care of both of us, those last few years, anyway." 

Then he squeezed her. "I have to go, Little Heart. Seems I have business over here. But I'll check in on you now and then." 

She looked at him, surprised. "You said you'd never leave me, Geoffie." 

"I said I'd never leave you ALONE, Punkin," he corrected her gently. "and you're not alone any more. I can't keep hanging around now." He smiled. "You can't make those dreams I sent you come true, if you think I'm watching. Now can you?"

"So in the dreams - that WAS you - and him, too." 

He nodded. "Yes. And they weren't just for you, Punkin." He grinned. "I guess it's okay to tell you this - they worked. He's hooked. All you have to do is reel him in." 

They laughed. "I'm going to miss you, Geoffie," she said. 

"I'll be around," he said. "Count on it. Besides," he added, "There's a part of me in Jeff, anyway. You've sensed it. In a way, I am still with you. And you sense that too, don't you?" 

She hugged him, nodding, and thought, how strange this is. For some reason, she wasn't tearing up. She would when she woke, she knew; but not now. 

Amy snuggled against him comfortably. She knew it was the last time, and another miracle of its own - but she could not feel sad. 

This really is the island outside of time, she realized. 

"I'll always love you, Geoff. No one could ever replace you." 

He grinned. "I should hope not, Little Heart. But that doesn't mean you have to be alone, either." He stroked her hair again, and she looked up at his dear face. 

"Listen, my love," he said softly. "You and I - that was a miracle. I don't know why it was given to us, but it was the most wonderful gift I could ever have imagined. 

"You gave me the best and most precious years of my life," he went on. "You taught me so much - you even taught me who I was, and gave back all the years I had lost." He smiled. "I thought I was going to be your wise old mentor. But you were the one who taught me." 

"But you taught me too, Geoffie," she said. 

"Yes," he said. "How to do things, how not to, things like that. Information, skills." He kissed her head. "But I never had to teach you who you are, Amy. That, you knew." 

He released her and sat up straight. She looked at him, oddly numb. "Take that with you to Jeff, Punkin," he said. "You have a lot to teach him, too, now." He smiled. "And maybe you have more to learn as well."

He stood, and she stood with him and took his hand. They looked at each other for a long, wordless moment. "This is the last time, isn't it?" she asked. 

The old man smiled. "No one knows that, Amy," he said quietly. "It may be. But maybe not." 

"I feel like I'm saying goodbye to you twice, Geoffie." 

"We've already said goodbye, Little Heart," the old man said. He grinned, kissed her hand, and said, "This is just a dream." 

Then he winked at her...

---

....And Amy woke up. 

To her surprise, she didn't feel sad at all. She smiled. She felt warm, and peaceful, and loved.

She would carry Geoff with her as long as she lived. And she would see him again, she knew. 

It was not yet three AM. She turned over, and on impulse, she reached out to the CD player and started the Canon in D. She had not played it in weeks - it always made her cry. 

No more. That night, she went to sleep again smiling, as if her Geoffie were holding her. 

And, again - perhaps he was. 

---

The next day, a Saturday, Amy did not wait for Jeff to call her; she called him. It was already clear that in this romance, if romance it turned out to be, she would be taking the lead - another difference. 

"Good morning! Are you awake?" 

"Erm, sure," said Jeff, his voice fuzzy with sleep. He obviously wasn't. "What time is it, anyway?" 

"Seven-thirty. Sorry, I'm an early riser. How about we meet for breakfast and then I introduce you to some of my friends?" 

"Um, okay... What friends?" 

She laughed. "You'll see. Trust me. You're going to like them." 

--- 

They met for coffee and pancakes at Denny's. As before, Jeff was fascinated with Amy's eyes - and she became more and more aware of his. 

They were not gray, like Geoff's. They were black - and deep. She found herself falling into them, just as Jeff found himself falling into hers. 

After one long, long moment of gazing silently into each other's eyes, they simultaneously broke the connection and shook their heads to clear them. 

"Brrr." 

"Booh. That was weird."

"We've been doing that a lot." 

"Maybe we shouldn't sit facing each other." 

They looked at each other, and their eyes locked again. They looked away and laughed. Amy moved to his side of the booth, giggling, and they elbowed each other good-naturedly. 




Canon Ch. 09



"All your fault," he said. "Those voodoo eyes of yours. Can't decide which one to look at, and they cast a spell on me." 

"Yours are like wells," she laughed. "I keep falling into them." 

They laughed together, then looked at each other and smiled. "How are your eggs?" she asked. 

"What eggs? Oh, you mean these?" He looked at his half-empty plate. "No idea. Haven't tasted a thing." 

"Oh, come on." 

He looked at her frankly. "Amy, I'm not the smoothest guy in the world even when things are..." He hesitated. 

"Normal," she said with a small smile. 

"Yeah. Normal." He looked at her. "And besides the dreams - well, you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen." He looked at his plate, then up at her again - just as Geoff would have done, she thought. "Not to mention what you did to those three punks night before last. I feel about as sure of myself as a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest." 

She laughed. "Surely I'm not all THAT intimidating." 

He smiled, but only a little. "Yes," he said. "You are." 

Her own smile faded. "You're having an effect on me, too, Jeff," she said. "Not that one. But just as strong." 

There followed a moment of silence as they looked at each other. "What do you know, Amy?" he finally asked. "Can you tell me?" 

She looked at him, and for the first time took his hand in both of her own. 

She looked down at it. His hands were not as big as Geoff's, and they were smoother, and less scarred and veined; but they somehow were very like the old soldier's hands. 

She already knew how they would feel on her body. 

She looked up at his face. 

"Yes," she said, "I will, Jeff. But not quite yet. I'm going to ask you to trust me. It's taking me a while to figure out HOW to tell you." She blinked at him. "Can you be patient with me a little longer?" 

Jeff looked into Amy's strange, mismatched eyes again. One was innocent and hopeful, pleading with him; and the other was veiled and knowing, holding back something - momentous. 

He slowly nodded. "All right," he said. "I can't imagine what you have to say. But I'll wait." Then he grinned. "But not too long, okay?" 

She smiled. "I promise." She moved to get up. "Now let's go meet my friends. I think you're going to like them." 

--- 

He followed her to Riverview, the nursing home where she volunteered on weekdays. As they walked into the front entrance together, a thin, white-haired woman in a wheelchair cried out, "Amy!" and held out her skinny arms, smiling with delight. 

Amy bent down to give her a hug. "Hello, Rose. How's that arthritis today?" 

"Tolerable," said the old woman with a beatific smile. "What are you doing here on a Saturday?" 

"I decided to come by and introduce my friend Jeff," she said. "Jeff, this is Rose." 

"Hello, Rose," he said, extending a hand. Rose brushed it away and held out her arms again, and he hugged her, laughing. "Nice to meet you." 

"Any friend of Amy's is a friend of mine," she said happily. 

Another resident was frantically waving from a nearby sofa. "We'd better go see Harvey, Rose," said Amy. "He looks like he's about to have a conniption." 

The old woman laughed. "Watch out, Jeff," she said. "Harvey has a big crush on Amy. He might be jealous." 

The elderly, corpulent man on the couch had a bald head and an enormous white handlebar mustache. He, too, greeted Amy with delight. "Hello, pretty girl! What are you doing here?" 

"Well, I came to see you, Harvey," she said sweetly as she hugged him too. 

"And who is this?" he asked with a bushy white eyebrow raised. 

"This is my friend Jeff," she said. "Jeff, this is Harvey, my boyfriend." 

The old man laughed. "if only I were fifty years younger, Amy," he chuckled, "that wouldn't be a joke. Nice to meet you, Jeff." They shook, and the younger man grinned. 

"That is a most admirable mustache, sir," he said. "If I could grow one like that, I would." 

The old man grinned back and stroked his bald head. "The hair under my nose, I got to keep," he said. 

"Do you know if Doris is feeling better, Harvey?" asked Amy. "Has she come back from the hospital?" 

The old man shook his head. "No, she's still in intensive care. She's doing better, though." He leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially. "Brooke knows one of the ICU nurses and gets us bulletins." He lifted his finger to his mustached lips. "Mum's the word." 

Amy smiled. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, and the old man laughed. 

She looked up. "Oh, look! There's Willard..." 

--- 

They spent the rest of the morning at Riverview, and Jeff saw how much Amy meant to the residents there - and how much they meant to her. 

He enjoyed the visit very much. He knew it was a kind of test, but he didn't mind that. He enjoyed the company of older people himself, and the occasional unpleasant sight or smell didn't bother him. 

They stayed for lunch, and sat at separate tables so they could help more of the residents eat. Jeff was a hit; the old people took to him as if he were a long-lost friend, and as Amy watched him smiling and laughing with them, it was clear that he was enjoying himself too. 

As they walked back to their cars, Jeff said, "You were right. I do like your friends. You come here every day?" 

"Most weekdays," she said. 

"That's wonderful. I'm sure they tell you what a saint you are - but I know your secret." He grinned. 

She blinked up at him. "My secret?" 

He leaned close and whispered. "You don't do it for them. You do it because it's fun." 

She giggled and, on impulse, hugged him. 

He hugged her back - and they embraced perhaps a few seconds longer than either intended. 

They stood apart, her hand in his, and got lost in each other's eyes again for a moment. 

Jeff murmured, "That felt..." 

"Familiar." Amy smiled up at him. 

"Yes." He squeezed her hand. "And nice." he looked at her curiously. "So... What now?" 

How do I tell him? she thought. 

As she looked at him, she heard Geoff's deep voice in her mind. It was not a sense of his presence; it was only a memory - but she heard his words very clearly: 

"I only know one way to go, Amy. Straight ahead. You get ready, and then you charge up the hill."

She looked up at those black, black eyes, so deep, so warm, so familiar and yet so new and strange....

Yes. Straight ahead, she thought. 

"Follow me to my house, Jeff," she said. "There's someone else you need to meet." 

--- 

Jeff felt an eerie sense of familiarity as he drove through the gates. He had never seen the big old house before, not even in dreams; but he still somehow knew it. It felt like home. 

He pulled up behind Amy's Toyota behind the garage, and looked back at the pool. The hairs on his neck rose; that place, he did remember from his dreams. He knew where the waterfall would be and what it looked like at night. 

Amy came up beside him and slipped her arm through his. "Come on inside," she said, smiling at his open-mouthed expression. "It gets weirder." 

As they entered the back door into the big country kitchen, he gasped. "This is so strange," he said. "I've never seen this place before, but I know it." He looked back at the pool. 

"That place, I have seen," he said. He looked at the wall beside the door, then reached up and flipped the switch that turned on the waterfall. "Only it looked like that." 

"How did you know what that switch does?" she asked with a small smile. 

He blinked. "I don't know," he said. "I just did." 

Amy beckoned with a finger, and they walked up the hall together. She opened the door to the middle bedroom and stepped back. 

He leaned into the room, but did not enter. He looked at the old-fashioned, high four-poster bed for a long moment, and nodded - then looked back at Amy and smiled. She smiled back - and then they both looked down and blushed. 

There was nothing to say. 

"One more place," she whispered, and led him farther down the hall. 

He gasped again when she opened the door to the steam room. "Oh, my God," he said softly. "It's real. It's all real..." He looked at her, his mouth open in wonder - and in an involuntary movement, his eyes slid up and down her body, from her eyes to her feet to her eyes again. 

She did not mind. Her eyes were doing the same.

Predictably, they both blushed and looked away. "Let's go back to the living room," said Amy uncertainly. 

"Yes, let's." 

As they walked down the hall, Jeff asked, "Amy, what's going on? How can any of this be happening?" Then, as they sat down on the couch - also familiar from their dreams - he asked, "Who ARE you?" 

She smiled. "Let me tell you about my late husband." She looked up at him, her expression unreadable. "He was your father." 

"My... father?" 

She opened a photograph album that was lying on the coffee table, where she had been looking at it the night before. She flipped to a picture of Geoff when he was much younger. She pointed, and he looked. 

Jeff's eyes widened. "He looks like me." 

She smiled. "No, Jeff. You look like him." She took his hand and held it. 

"All right, Jeff. Get ready. Okay?" He nodded. 

She took a deep breath. "He was a patient in a Navy hospital in Tokyo for almost five months in 1968. He was a hero - a Medal of Honor winner - and he once told me he knew a woman who was a direct descendant of Ieyasu Tokugawa." She smiled. "He told me that he knew her very well." 

Jeff was staring at the picture, blinking in astonishment. "And his name was - Geoffrey, but with a G." He nodded. "He was my dad." 

She nodded. "Yes, Jeff. He was." She squeezed his hand. "He died three months ago. Since then - well, I think he's been spending some time in your head." 

Jeff nodded, understanding but not understanding. "I've felt him." He looked around. "That's why I know this place. This was his home." 

He shook his head. "How can this be? And what about that - that tropical beach, with the grass shack and the little pier? Was that real too?" 

She laughed. "Yes, that's our island - my island, now. It's real, too. Maybe we'll see it someday." She squeezed his hand. "Jeff, did you feel like - yourself, in those dreams?" 

"No," he said instantly, shaking his head. "It was always like I was sharing my mind with someone else. Someone older - someone - damaged. Hurt, but healed." He nodded. "That was Geoff, wasn't it? Your husband. My dad." 

"Yes," she said. "He was with you in those dreams. He sent them to us, to bring us together." She looked at him sidewise. "Jeff, are you okay with all this?" 

He looked at the picture and thought. "I don't know yet," he finally said, with a reluctant honesty. "If I hadn't had those dreams myself, I wouldn't believe any of this. And even though I never knew him, and he never knew I existed, your husband was... Well, you were married to my father. That's kind of weird all by itself." 

"Well," said Amy, "As long as we're dealing with weirdness, there's one more thing you need to know." 

He looked at her quizzically. "There's more?" 

She nodded. "I'm pregnant, Jeff. With Geoff's son. Your half-brother." 

He sat back on the sofa, his mouth hanging open. "Give me a minute on that one, Amy. I'm feeling a little dizzy." 

She smiled - and slid over and hugged him; his arms automatically went around her, too. "Well, factor in one more thing while you're getting undizzy." She squeezed him. "I think you're pretty amazing, Jeff. And it is isn't because you're like Geoffie - you're not. It's because you're you." 

He squeezed her back. "You're the most amazing woman - the most amazing person - I've ever met, Amy. You overwhelm me." 

She snuggled against him. "But...?" 

"Let's talk about baggage." 

She laughed and leaned back to see his smile. "No argument there, Jeff. What you see is what you get." 

Then she smirked, a little wickedly. "But what you've seen in our dreams counts, too..." 

This time, she did not blush or look away. She looked him in the eye and smiled. 

He looked back steadily, entranced once more by her strange, disturbing eyes - and by the mystery of what lay behind them, and by her pale beauty. He smiled. So beautiful...

He knew what her body looked like, and felt like, even though they hadn't yet even kissed.

Well, that's easily remedied, he thought. 

He leaned forward and kissed her - their first. They held it a bit longer than necessary - and then a bit longer than that. 

When their lips parted and they opened their eyes, they found each other smiling. 

"That felt... right," said Jeff. "Don't you think?"

Amy nodded. "Yes," she whispered. Then she grinned. "Let's do it again, just to make sure." 

She giggled. And they did. 

--- 

Some time later, they were relaxing in each other's arms, snuggling close and kissing occasionally. They had grown passionate, and their tongues had grown very well acquainted; and that, too, seemed strangely familiar and comfortable. They had taken a step back for a moment and were just holding each other. She nuzzled his shoulder with her cheek, and he stroked her short hair.

"So weird." 

"Yes. But good." 

"I hardly know you - but I feel like I've known you for years. Decades. My whole life." 

"Me, too. I feel like you're my best friend." 

"Oh, yes. Yes." 

A pause. "Pretty good start, for strangers..."

"You're the lover of my dreams." Grin. "Really." 

Laughter. 

Afterward, they couldn't remember who said what - but it didn't matter. They felt the same. 

They sat together in silence for a time, snuggling and kissing without speaking. Their tongues were growing even better acquainted; their hands already knew the way, but were still tentative and shy in the real, waking world. 

He stroked her back, so strangely familiar, but his hands stopped short of her bottom. Her hands touched his chest and his hips, but stayed away from his fly. She wondered if his cock was as big as she remembered. 

How weird is that? she thought. I'm remembering something that hasn't happened yet. 

"Mmm... I think I'm getting to be okay with this," he whispered. He tentatively squeezed her breast.

Amy put her hand over his and snuggled closer. "I'm glad... Mmm..."

--- 

"How about dinner?" Jeff asked a little later. "I'm hungry. Can't live on love, y'know." He looked down at Amy, still snuggled in his arms, and smiled. 

She giggled. "Sounds good. I know a little diner not far from here. Great burgers." 

"Okay. Let's go in my car." 

They sat up and began to rearrange their clothes, smiling at each other - and blushing, of course. 

"That was fun," said Jeff. 

"And we have so much to look forward to," whispered Amy. 

He smiled and tweaked her bottom. 

"Ouch!" 

---

She was pleased to see that he was a little old-fashioned; he opened her door first, made sure she was comfortable, then went around and got into the driver's seat. 

As they drove through the gate, he asked, "Do you like music? I'm partial to classical...." He pushed the Power button on the CD player. 

It took her a moment to recognize it. 

It was an arrangement for brass; tubas were playing the bass part, baritones the violas', and trumpets taking the part of the violins. But it was unmistakably Pachelbel's Canon in D. 

"Oh, my God..." Amy's hand went to her mouth. 

"What?" asked Jeff. "That's my favorite piece." 

She looked at him, her eyes shining. "Mine, too," she said, her voice raspy with emotion. Her eyes were visibly wet. 

He turned the player off. "I'm sorry. Bad memories?" 

She shook her head quickly. "No, good ones. It's okay, Jeff. Turn it back on. Please. I love this music." 

He smiled. "You're going to love this CD, then. It's called 'Pachelbel's Greatest Hit.' Fifteen different versions of the Canon in D." 

He pressed "Play," and the CD started over. The familiar orchestral version began; Jeff skipped that one, and after a moment, Amy gasped. "It's lovely!" she exclaimed. 

It was an arrangement for flute and chamber orchestra, and the silver tones of James Galway's artistry were rich and compelling. By the time it was finished, they were at the diner. 

As they went in, she bubbled excitedly: "What else is on there?"

"The next is solo piano..." 

"Ooo!" 

"...Then an unearthly, but beautiful, version played on Moog synthesizer. Then a vocal arrangement, believe it or not... There's a classical guitar arrangement, one for brass, you heard that, another for traditional Japanese instruments..." 

She smiled. "I'll bet you like that one." 

He nodded. "It's mostly reed flutes. It's really pretty." 

They slid into a booth. "Some of the later ones I really don't like," he said. "They improvise too much and get too far away from the original score. But most of them are pretty good." 

"I can't wait to hear the rest!" 

The waitress approached. They ordered burgers, on Amy's recommendation, and in a moment they were sipping on Cokes. 

Jeff looked at her curiously. "I get the impression that the Canon is much more than just a piece of music to you." 

She nodded, and after a moment spent looking into his eyes, she spoke. 

"I have this feeling I can trust you with anything, Jeff," she said. "So I'll tell you..." 

She told him about how Geoff hummed her to sleep to the Canon when she was a little girl, and how it became the background music of their love, their marriage, and eventually of his passing. How it played as they first accepted what they felt for each other, as they grew into love, as they made love and slept and waked - and as she held him that morning on the beach when she hummed him to sleep for the last time. 

"...And they played it at his funeral," she finished. "I've only begun playing it again at home a few days ago." 

She didn't tell him why. 

Jeff looked at her, his black eyes soft. "And you're thinking how strange it is that I love it too," he said. 

She nodded tentatively. "Yes... It just seems like one more weird coincidence." 

"Maybe it isn't a coincidence," said Jeff. She looked at him curiously. 

He smiled. "My mother used to play it for me when I was little, too - like a lullaby. I never got tired of it. It calms me and makes me feel like - like..." 

"Like everything's all right," said Amy, smiling. "I know. Me too." 

"Yes." He looked at her with a strange, anticipatory expression on his face. "And she was introduced to it by-" 

"By that soldier in the base hospital," breathed Amy, her unsettling eyes wide. "The hero. Your father." Her eyes filled. "My Geoffie." 

He nodded. His hand reached for hers, and she took it gladly. "He gave me so much," she said. "I'm glad he gave you something, too." 

The waitress brought their burgers and fries, and they ate in silence for a few minutes. 

"You were right. This is a good hamburger," said Jeff. 

Amy smiled. "I want to make you dinner sometime," she said as they munched. "I'm a terrific cook, if I do say so myself." 

"Well, I'm a terrific eater," he said with a grin. "Looks like a perfect match again." 

She giggled. "I'm good at other things too," she whispered with a twinkle. 

He smiled wryly. "You forget, Amy. I know that." 

She smirked, even as she blushed. "I didn't forget...." 

--- 

He dropped her at the big house. "Don't you want to come in?" she asked as he walked her to the door. 

He smiled. "Give me a little time to absorb all this, Amy. It's a lot to take in." 

She looked up at him, her heart in her eyes. "Will I see you tomorrow?" she asked. 

"Count on it." He hugged her, and they shared a small, chaste kiss. "Like I said," he whispered, "I'm strapped in for the ride, Amy. I'm just wondering how much wilder it's going to get." 

She smiled and kissed him again. "Call me." 

"I will." 




Canon Ch. 09



She stood on the veranda and watched him drive away, then turned and walked into the house. 

She looked around at the kitchen. "I like him, Geoffie," she said, to no one. "I still miss you. But I like him." 

She smiled and went to have a steam. 

--- 

That night, Jeff dreamed of Amy again. 

It was not one of the eerily vivid, hyper-realistic dreams that Geoff had given them; it was an ordinary dream, though intense and vivid enough in its own right. 

He was fucking her, in the big four-poster bed in her bedroom; and their eyes were locked together, as they had been so often that day. 

He looked into her soul; both sides of her soul, the dark and the light, through her strange eyes - and he felt her looking into his, seeing everything he was, everything he wanted, everything he felt. 

But this was no sweet and gentle fuck. They were sweating, breathing hard, working at it, pumping their hips in unison; Amy was holding her knees back and wide apart, grunting with the effort of fucking back at him as he drove his cock into her smooth, glistening hole, pounding her, stabbing his bone into her hot, grasping pussy feverishly. She looked up at him with a savage expression, teeth bared and eyes burning as they bored into his own. 

There were no small sounds of contentment and intimacy; there were animal grunts and growls of savage need, of primal hunger. They were fighting as much as making love, struggling, wrestling, working to become one. They pulled at each other, grimacing with the effort, with their love, their discovery of each other as linked souls. 

They could look down to see their wet, plunging connection, his curving cock sliding in and out of her bald, quivering pussy, then up again at each other's faces, seeing the anguish and the ecstasy they shared, both at once. 

Jeff sensed no foreign memories that he did not recognize; no undercurrents of old hurts and regrets that he did not know. Only he was with Amy this time, and this struggle was his alone. 

He fought to get closer, to get inside her body and behind her eyes. She fought to help him. They worked harder and harder, pounding together, hammering home their need, driving for its fulfillment, her pussy opening to his plunging cock, his cock drilling into her spasming pussy. They shuddered and twisted, working for it, closer, closer, almost there, clinging to each other, consumed with their need, their hunger for each other....

---

And he woke up. 

Trembling, damp with sweat, wide awake, and with an enormous, aching hard-on, Jeff lay in his bed and stared into the darkness. What the Hell....

And his cellphone rang. He groped for it on the bedside table, fumbled with it, flipped it open. 

"H-hello?" 

"Did you just have the same dream I did?" 

Amy's voice was as unsteady and breathless as his own. 

He didn't bother to ask for details. "Yes," he said. 

"Get your ass over here." 

And she hung up. 

--- 

Twenty minutes later, he was running up the steps of the old house; he had parked in the front, no time to drive around to the garage. 

The front door flew open, and she flew into his arms; and as if his mind were not already reeling, she was mother-naked. 

He had never seen anything so beautiful and exciting - but her frantic eagerness worried him. This could be traumatic for her, he knew. 

"Amy..." he said, with a note of rebuke in his voice. 

"I know," she quavered. "I don't care." She was already unbuttoning his shirt, her lips at his throat, standing there on the front steps. Her hands were trembling, her breath coming in quick, jerky gasps. He pulled her to him, held her, and tried to calm her down. 

"Amy - we don't even know each other..." 

She pulled away and looked up at him, her eyes blazing just as fiercely as they had in his dream moments before. "Yes, we do. You know we do," she hissed. "Come on. Hurry." She tugged at him urgently and pulled him into the house. 

And down the hall into the bedroom. She all but tore his clothes off, and he let her. In less than a full minute, they were in the big four-poster bed, naked. 

Amy was frantic, desperate, shaking with fear and need - and sorrow. Jeff saw the tears starting from her eyes even as she reached for him. 

Her pulled her to his chest and cradled her head in his hand, kissing her in front of her ear. He had no idea that Geoff had held and kissed her in exactly that same way - but he felt her shiver as she began to weep. 

She pounded his chest with a small fist, her mind fragmented, not understanding her own emotions. She cried out wordlessly, keening and whimpering like a child. 

He tried to hold her still as she struggled, but she fought him. He spied the CD player; and he knew what was on it. 

"I know what we need," he murmured into her storm - and he pushed the Play button. 

He felt her calming at once. The deep, slow notes of the basses soothed her nerves and settled her mind; as the violins began to pick up the theme, he felt her relax against him, her struggles subsiding, her whimpers turning into murmurs of inarticulate affection - mixed with confusion and - something else. 

"That's better," he whispered. "That's better. Nice and easy. We have all the time in the world, Amy." 

She snuggled into his arms and nodded, but said nothing. She was still shivering. 

As the music played, he spoke quietly. "I know what you're feeling, Amy," he said. 

She looked up at him, her cheek against his chest; unlike Geoff's, it was smooth - but it was just as warm. "You do?" 

He nodded and cuddled her. "You want me. And you want to love me. You want to love and be loved again, more than anything. And you know it's risky to rush into it, but you want it so much you don't care." 

She nodded against his chest, slowly. "Yes," she whispered. 

"You're afraid - you know that you really don't know me. You've only been with Geoff, and you're unsure about what to do. You don't know if it'll really be as good as it is in the dreams." 

She nodded again. He let the music soothe her a little more, and then he breathed into her ear: "And you feel like you're betraying him." 

She shivered, and he felt the wetness on his chest as she nodded again. 

"I'm so mixed up," she said, weeping. "I miss him so much, and you're so much like him - but you're not like him - and - and I DON'T know you - but I do - and I love what's different about you - and I don't know how I can forget him, or if I can love you if I don't - and - and - Oh, God, Jeff, I don't know what to do...." 

He held her as she wept, and kissed her head - again, just like Geoff did. 

Some little things about him were the same; but at that moment, she realized the thing that really mattered, the thing that drew her to him and that she treasured. It was that he cared more about her than about himself. 

Any other man would be fucking her now. But he wanted to comfort her and take her fear and guilt away. That, to him, was more important. 

She knew that she would soon feel the same way about him - if I don't already, she thought. 

Jeff felt her relax against him, felt her breathing slow and grow less agitated. 

Amy nuzzled his chest, and thought, this is the same too. I feel safe, and warm, and loved.... 

That was it; that was the one thing that was the same. And, she realized, it was no betrayal. It was what her Geoffie had wanted for her.

"I trust you, Jeff," she whispered. "I really do." 

He squeezed her and said nothing, and they held each other till the music ended. 

He stroked her smooth back in the silence, and she sighed and snuggled close. "You're not going to make love to me tonight, are you?" she murmured. 

"No," he whispered. "Let's take a little more time." He looked down at her and smiled wryly in the dim light - a smile that she knew. "I'd like to feel like I have to work at it, Amy." 

She giggled and caressed his chest. "I still want to, though." 

"Let's compromise," he said, and pulled her closer. 

Their tongues were soon wrestling, their hands exploring each other's bodies, pressed together and moving subtly, nothing between them. 

They were learning the truth of their dreams; her pussy was as soft and smooth, his cock as large and curved, as they had seen and touched in the night. They kissed and stroked each other, bare legs moving, lazily exploring each other in a strange mix of familiarity and shyness, uncertainty and security. 

She touched his cock. "So big..." she breathed. His dickhead flared out widely at the rim, just as she remembered. She knew how it would feel, sliding in and out of her pussy... 

He stroked and squeezed her breasts, so perfect... Not enormous, but full and lovely. He kissed a tender nipple, then touched it with his tongue - and she shivered. 

His hand found her center, and she sighed and opened her thighs to him. Her mound was smooth and plump, her slit oozing moisture; when he slipped one finger in, she moaned and opened her legs wider. 

He sucked her nipples as he explored her hole; it was fever-hot and liquid, and she began to work her hips at him subtly. She found his cock with her soft, small hand, and began to pump it rhythmically....

He moaned, and his own hips began to move. 

"Changing your mind?" she breathed, as her thumb slid round and round the slippery tip of his cock. 

"M-maybe..." He was shivering a bit himself at the feel of her pretty hand. 

"Nothing about this has been normal," she whispered. "Make love to me, Jeff. We can get to know each other later." She rolled onto him and ground her wet pussy lips against his stiff, hot shaft. "It's not like we haven't done it before..." 

He groaned and rolled his hips upward, and Amy murmured, "Yes..." 

She moved herself over him and rotated her hips subtly, his dickhead pressing into her wet lips. As she lowered herself onto him, taking his bare, hard cock into her wet, trembling pussy, she lowered her face to his and kissed him deeply. 

"I don't know you yet," she whispered into his mouth, "but I love you." 

His arms went around her as he felt his cock slowly sliding between and opening her smooth, slick membranes. "I love you, too, sweet Amy," he gasped. "I don't understand what's h-happening, but I know that." He began to pump upward, and his cock began to stir and work in her grasping pussy. 

"For sure," she whispered back. 

They cling to each other and fucked, slowly, gently, warmly - but growing slowly more heated, more urgent. 

"So good," Jeff grunted as he rolled her onto her back. 

"Oh, yes - fuck me - fuck me hard..." Her knees drew up and wide, and she opened herself to his soft assault; and he began to pump her harder, all the way in and all the way out, deep, deep and fast, growing faster....

"So beautiful," he gasped. "You're so beautiful - so perfect - pretty bare feet..." 

She giggled as he fucked her, and he smiled down at her without losing the rhythm. "What?" 

"Later. Fuck me harder, Jeff. Fuck me like you want it to hurt...." 

He grabbed her knees and pressed them down into the mattress, holding her down and wide open. Then he began to slam his hips into hers, hammering her hard, pounding her pussy with his cock, sliding it in and out. 

Amy felt helpless and vulnerable, and overwhelmed by the size and shape of his stiff cock. That flaring rim slid up and down in her sensitive pussy, stimulating her in ways she had never felt before. 

For Jeff's part, the feel of Amy's slick pussy-grip on his bare, swollen head was delicious, exciting, maddening. It had been a long time for him. 

He rose on his hands, and they were playing out the dream; eyes burning and locked together, aching to become one. 

They slowly grew more and more synchronized, working together, fighting their way to whatever it was that lay ahead. She tugged at him urgently, humping up at him, struggling against his restraining hands, grunting with effort as she fucked him. Jeff was growling, just as in the dream - lost in her blazing eyes and her squeezing pussy, driving into her like a sledgehammer, sawing her pussy with his cock and grimacing at the sensation. 

He fell onto her and they clung to each other as they fucked; she bit his ear and he grabbed her bare ass, and they spoke in inarticulate moans and hisses as they worked together, their bodies gleaming with sweat and pressed together. 

Jeff was fighting to hold back his load, determined to make Amy cum before he let it go; he rose to his knees and looked down at her. She was biting her lip and looking up at him desperately, and he realized they were both struggling to keep from cumming. 

"Let it go, baby," he groaned. "Let it go and I'll be right behind you...." 

And he began to scrub her swollen, slippery clit with his thumb. 

Amy cried out and writhed and shivered, and in a matter of seconds was jerking and shuddering uncontrollably under him as her liquid hole grasped and spasmed on his bursting cock. 

He fell against her again and hugged her close as he filled her, his cum jetting from his cock like liquid bullets. She hung onto him and worked her cunt on him, milking his cock, squeezing and sliding her pussy tube on it as he shook and shot, over and over and over. 

They lay together afterward, gasping, shivering, holding each other as the storm passed; and when they were breathing easily again, they pulled back and looked at each other. 

Ice blue and earthy brown - open and secretive, sweet and smoky - her eyes captivated him more than ever. They spoke to him of love and passion and even devotion - and uncertainty, too.

For Amy's part, she no longer saw Geoff when she looked at him; she saw Jeff, as he was, his own man. She smiled. 

He smiled too. "I guess dreams do come true," he said. She laughed, tiredly, and pulled him down on top of her again. In a moment, their tongues were too busy to speak further. 

And a short time after that, they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms as the Canon played softly beside them. 

Jeff did not hum to her. That, he knew, belonged to someone else. 

---



Canon Ch. 10



Jeff looked down and smiled. Amy lay on the couch and in his arms, and she was sleeping. She looked like a child in her pink flannel jammies. 

The Canon in D, with the astonishing James Galway on flute, was just ending on the CD player; another version with a full orchestra began a moment later. 

Jeff studied his wife's face as the basses began their eight solemn and endlessly repeated notes. The tones echoed through the big old house, and Jeff smiled again. Up close, he could see tiny hints of days to come; a faint crease at the corner of her eye, a touch of softness at her jawline. Even a single gray hair above her ear. The ominous thrum of the bass viols was appropriate - relentless, deliberate, as implacable as the passage of time. 

But - blink, and she was still the lovely girl that he and his father had fallen in love with.

Jeff considered that. She was so very, very lovely - a classic beauty who would have knocked 'em dead at any time in history. Was he shallow, to adore that about her and desire her so much? 

He smiled gently as the violas began their counterpoint. No, he thought. Her beauty is a miracle - but the greater miracle is that she seems unaware of it, even now. There's no hint of vanity in her nature. 

His smile grew wider. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, or ever would; but it wasn't her face or her body that held him. He stroked her cheek lightly, not waking her. It was her heart that he loved. Her soul. Who she was.

That - and that her love for him was absolute, her devotion total. Amy trusted him as only one who had never been hurt could trust. His dad, Geoff - whom he had never met - had seen to that, and so would he. He would die before he'd hurt her, and he'd kill before he'd let someone else do it.

He cuddled her gently, and she smiled in her sleep and nuzzled his chest with her cheek as the violins soared above the clouds. 

God, he loved her.

A little boy in plaid pajamas ran into the room. "Da- oops." The child shushed himself when he saw his mother asleep. He looked at her and grinned. "Dad," he resumed in a whisper, "Can I play on the XBox? It's Friday."

"You have to be up early for Grandma and Grandpa tomorrow," Jeff whispered back to his stepson and half-brother. He cocked an eyebrow knowingly at the boy. "Would your mom let you?"

The third-grader smiled wryly, a remarkably adult expression, and ran his hand through his mop of curly black hair. "Maybe..." he said.

His father smiled back. "Half an hour, Harry. Then lights out."

"Okay," breathed the boy. "Thanks, Dad." He stepped closer and kissed his mom's hair. "Tell her goodnight for me," he whispered, then scampered - there was no other word for it - back to his room.

Eight years old and sharper than I am on my best day, thought Jeff. I love that kid.

Amy stirred in his arms. He looked down to see her disconcerting eyes, deep brown and pale blue, looking up into his. Even after nine years of marriage and two more children, they still made his heart stop and his mind go blank when she looked at him.

"I heard that," she murmured, smiling. "You're such a softie."

"Enh. If he wasn't such a good kid, I wouldn't have let him. In half an hour, he'll turn it off and go to sleep."

She smiled. "He will, won't he?" Then she blinked. "Where are the twins?"

"Drifting happily through the wondrous halls of Dreamland," he said. "Long since."

She smiled. "There you go getting all literary again." She snuggled closer. "I love it when you do that."

He leaned closer and whispered in her ear. "Verily, you have bewitched me, my lady..."

"Ooo..."

"With thy luminescent beauty..."

"Mmmm..."

"Thy lovely, graceful manner..."

"Mm-hmmm..."

"Thy sweetly generous, loving nature..."

"Mm... Oh...."

"And thy perky boobies."

She laughed and slapped his arm. "Not as perky as they once were," she demurred.

The peak of her left nipple was clearly visible through her pajamas, and he gave it a gentle tweak. "Owch!" she squeaked.

"They're just as beautiful as the first time I saw them," he said quietly. "Maybe even more so."

She cocked her head. "You mean that, don't you?"

"I do."

They smiled at each other. The CD player began a horn version of the Canon that neither of them cared for, and Jeff rose to turn it off as Amy sat up. 

He turned to look at her kneeling on the couch, sleepy, tousled and cute. "Want to play tonight?" he asked.

"Let's save it for tomorrow," said Amy, snuggling close when he sat down again. "It's going to be epic, honey. I'm so hungry to get crazy with you."

He squeezed her. "You're incredible," he said for the ten-thousandth time.

"You too," she breathed, and kissed him. "I love the kids, but -"

"Me too," he whispered back. "But I'm glad they have these weekends with your parents - and we have some time alone."

"Mmmm."

They spoke without words for a while, mouth to mouth.

---

Jeff and Amy had named their son Harold, after his father's old commander. Harry took after his father; all boy, tough and reluctant to cry - but he also had his father's iron integrity. He never lied, even when small.

Two years later, Amy gave birth to twin girls, Rachel and Rebecca. One had brown eyes, the other blue; otherwise they were identical. They were very much "girly girls," preferring silk to denim and lacy frills to T-shirts. They had the rumored "bond" that twins sometimes do - when one fell, the other cried out, even if they were miles apart. They seemed to communicate without words, with looks that carried volumes. 

At six, they were better readers than their older brother. One might have expected Harry to resent that, but he was perfectly comfortable with their helping him and even tutoring him a bit. He was their protector, and they were his teachers. "Harry is the muscle and R & R are the brains," Jeff liked to say.

The five of them lived happily in the big old antebellum house, where there was much laughter and an atmosphere of warmth and love. The kids rarely quarreled, and when they did it was usually over in minutes. Their parents were fully engaged as parents - not something that can be taken for granted today. Both Jeff and Amy had good relationships with the kids - warm, trusting, and firmly in charge. 

But they didn't neglect their own relationship with each other, either. Intimacy was a given; they felt as close when shopping for groceries as they did in bed. That was because their faith in each other, their trust, was total. In bed and elsewhere, they were both givers, not takers - and it showed.

One weekend a month, the three children were picked up by Amy's parents to spend a few days at their home, and the two lovers could do as they chose. Amy no longer played "slave girl" very often - Jeff didn't care for that game as much as she did - but they had other games.

Fantasy was hardly necessary, anyway. They had learned each other's tastes and desires, and delighted in pleasing each other. Amy had accumulated a collection of sexy sandals; Jeff liked to see her in those and nothing else. For his part, Jeff learned to ride the Harley so Amy could still enjoy the pleasures of the rear seat. They had other games, of course, all their own.

---

Next morning, the three giggling children were bundled into Frank and Ellie's SUV amid much hugging and kissing, and the lovers waved as the car full of laughing kids and grandparents pulled out of the gate. They waited, watching, till the gate closed - then turned on each other like hungry animals.

Better than a regular weekend; this was a three-day weekend, and the kids wouldn't be back till Tuesday. If it had been a few days more, they'd have flown to Juicy Island for a few days in Eden, but they took what they could get.

They sat on the couch and just made out like teenagers for a while, kissing and touching each other in warm silence. There was no hurry.

"Mmmm... Love you...."

"Mmm... Mmme too..."

"....."

A bit later:

"Let's go swimming."

He blinked down at her. "Okay," he said, with an air of puzzlement. After a moment, he grinned. "Oh! No suits required!"

They stripped in the living room and ran, naked and laughing, across the yard to the pool. They jumped in with simultaneous cannonballs, rose from the water laughing, and were soon in each other's arms again.

If Amy's idea was to put off their inevitable lovemaking and just enjoy each other's company for a while, it didn't work. Her bare, perfect curves all but glowed in the sunlight, and the feel of wet bodies wasn't exactly conducive to calm patience. They were soon writhing on the grass beside the pool, fucking like bunnies.

"G-god, you're big," she breathed, as she had so many times before. Jeff apparently hadn't grown any smaller.

"And you're so w-wet," he gasped, pumping. "A-all over..." 

He took her into his arms and rolled over, and Amy abruptly found herself on top. She shivered and drew her feet up, squatting on him, and began to lever her pale, beautiful ass up and down on him as her mouth sought his. It was a dance they danced well.

"L-let's g-g-go in the house," he gasped, staring at her softly bouncing, gently quivering breasts.

"Let me cum once first," she said, breathless herself. "Then we c-can g... Oh, God... Oh, God, Jeff, I'm cumming...." 

She clung to him and shuddered convulsively as she orgasmed, her pussy suddenly juicy on his steel-hard cock. He held her, and somehow held his own orgasm back as he felt her slippery muscles spasming and squeezing on his dickhead. They clung together and shook for minutes, using all the art they had taught each other to make it last, and Jeff heard Amy's tiny whimpers as the hurricane shook her to the core.

He carried her into the bedroom after. She liked that. She nuzzled his chest and murmured, "Hours and hours with nothing to do but make love," she whispered.

He squeezed her as he carried her up the hall and into their bedroom - the big one, the one that had once been hers, but never slept in. The big canopy bed was waiting.　　

Jeff tossed his wife onto the bed, and she bounced, laughing. Her lovely breasts bounced too, and she shook them at him gaily. Jeff gaped in amazement, as he always did at her shameless sexual displays. "Rrr," he growled. "Spread 'em, baby." 

Amy giggled and pulled her knees back and wide apart, rolling her wet, hairless cunt upward at him. Jeff growled again and slid on top of her, and her arms slipped round his back as he thrust his still-stiff erection all the way into her hot, liquid center in one electrifying stroke. Her strange eyes rolled back to show only the whites, then closed - and she shivered as he began to slide in and out of her again. 

As always, Amy marveled at the way she could feel the flaring rim of his cockhead sliding up and down inside her squeezing, grasping pussy tube - and she knew that it felt just as exquisite to him. 

She squeezed him with her talented and practiced fucking muscles. "Can you feel that?" 

"Ggg," said Jeff eloquently. He was staring down at her face, his mouth hanging open, his breath raspy. He was pounding her hard, slamming his bristly pubes into her smooth, pink crotch, reaming out her juicy pussy with his bursting meat. "G-gonna cum," he gasped. 

Amy giggled and pulled her pretty bare feet back to either side of her face. "Oh, Jeffie, squirt it in me - cum in my pussy, real hard - give it to me - oh, fill my hole with your sperm -" 

Jeff shuddered and gave it up as she ground her cunt round and round on his cock, squeezing and squelching her sloppy-wet hole as he spasmed and blasted his thick load deep inside her. "L-love you," he gasped as he shot again and again. "Love you, baby..." 

"I'm gonna cum all over your big dick now, Jeffie," she gasped in a whisper. "Don't stop - " and then she did cum, harder than before. 

Jeff was still shooting in her pussy as she began to strain and shake; and he somehow kept on fucking her as she jerked and shivered in her orgasm. The feel of her fluttering pussy walls on his sensitive, just-cum cock was maddeningly intense, and before Amy was done climaxing on his cock, he was shooting inside her again. 

Which set her off again as well, of course. She squealed and groped for him helplessly as she came, again and again, and Jeff began to scrub her swollen clit with his thumb as he shot. They clung to each other and came for what seemed like twenty minutes. Perhaps it was.

As Amy had said, it WAS epic. And it wasn't long before they were at it again, this time in the shower. Their morning fell into a familiar rhythm of fuck, snuggle, fuck, laugh, fuck, eat lunch, and fuck some more. And they savored every moment of it. 

---

They were relaxing in bed later that afternoon, still warm and sweaty from their last, and very content. For the moment, anyway. Pachelbel played softly in the background. 

"Mmmm. That was nice, Jeffie. Again."

"It was amazing. You're amazing. Always."

"Can I play slave girl and go naked this weekend? Please?" 

He put a finger to his chin and made a show of thinking. "Hmmm. A beautiful girl wants to go naked for me and wait on me hand and foot... Mmmm, let me think..." She giggled, and he grinned. "Talk about an offer I can't refuse..." 

She smiled, but said nothing. His father had once said exactly the same thing.

---

A few minutes later, Jeff was sitting at the kitchen table in his jeans, watching Amy prepare breakfast wearing nothing but her ankle bracelet. His eyes savored her pale, bare body like a connoisseur oenophile savors a fine Beaujolais, he thought.

Or like a homeless wino savors a bottle of Night Train, he added to himself wryly. He was addicted. Luckily, she was too.

"Coffee, sir?" she simpered, pouring his cup with a small but deliberate quiver of her still-perky breasts. Her bare, bald pussy was pink and visibly moist from their passion only a few minutes earlier.

"Thanks." He looked up at her with an odd expression. She saw, and waited. After a moment, he said, "You know, I think I'd like to watch you dance for me later." 

She blinked, surprised. "I didn't think you liked me to play slave so much." 

"It's not about your being my slave," he said with a feral smile. "It's about how beautiful you are and how sexy you dance. You could make a wooden Indian shoot his load." 

She giggled and gave him a little wiggle, right there in the kitchen. He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like that," he said, and she laughed and squatted, sticking her flaring, wet, red and glistening hole up at him lewdly - then began to work her hips hungrily, her pretty bare feet arched and her breasts wobbling sensuously as she pumped her sex organs in his face. 

"Oh, God," he said, feeling his cock hardening yet again. 

"Sorry I'm so modest and ladylike, Jeffie," she whispered. "I know you'd rather I'd just hold my pussy open and work my muscles for you like a nasty fucking slut..." 

As she spoke, in her patented Jeff-teasing little-girl voice, she held her pussy open and worked her muscles for him like a nasty fucking slut. A long, crystal skein of her pussy-juice drooled from her hole and hung to the floor. 

Jeff was staring, speechless. "Let's go in the living room," she breathed. "Let me make you shoot by just teasing you..." 

Jeff was massaging the bulge at his fly. "You love that, don't you?" he asked. "You love to show off for me..." 

"Yes," she whispered. "I love it, Jeffie. I love the way your eyes crawl all over me and the way you stare at my bare pussy and my bare titties and my bare feet. I like to shock you, like this -" 

She fell onto her back on the hardwood floor and spread her legs wide, bare feet high in the air, and pulled her vagina into a gleaming red "O." Then she giggled. "I love the look on your face when I do stuff like that. You look like you can't believe it." 

"I can't," he said, black eyes wide. "You're so beautiful, and so sexy and nasty and delicious - and you're mine," he said, shaking his head as he stared at her gaping hole. "I can't believe I'm so lucky." 

She smiled knowingly. "Watch this, Jeffie." 

"Oh, God..." 

--- 

The rest of the weekend was similar. They shared long, soapy, squirmy showers till the hot water ran out, then ran shivering to the steam room to continue. Midnight skinnydipping in the pool; snuggling in front of the fireplace, kissing quietly to the Canon in D. 

---

It was Monday night. As the fire crackled and snapped, they looked into each other's eyes. At the same moment, they both said, "This is Heaven." Then they laughed. 

"It is," said Jeff.

"Yes." 

Some time passed.

"Mmm. I'm hungry."

"Me too," said Jeff. "Hey, did we eat dinner?"

Amy giggled. "I think we forgot." She sat up, untangled herself from his arms, and snuggled beside him. "Feel like Chinese? I don't feel like cooking."

"Wouldn't think of making you. Chinese, pizza, or a sub?"

"Ooo! Meatball subs!"

"Done." He took his cellphone from the table and made the call, then they resumed kissing till the doorbell rang. 

"Hide," said Jeff, grinning, as he rose to get the door. 

"Oop! Guess I'd better." Amy had forgotten she was naked.

A few minutes later, as they munched the still-warm meatball sandwiches, Jeff smiled. Amy had put on a T-shirt, and nothing else. She didn't like to drip marinara sauce on her bare breasts; the question had arisen before.

"Ready for the kids to come back?" he asked.

"Mmm-hmm," said Amy, chewing. She swallowed and said, "Yeah, I want to hug my little guys too. Wonder what tales they'll have to tell." The last time the kids had stayed with their grandparents, they had gone to a theme park, a concert and a rodeo. 

"No telling. More chips?"

"Mmm-mmm," she demurred, waving a hand. A moment later she said, "Saving space for dessert."

"Dessert?"

She grinned wickedly. "You," she said. "Don't get too full. We're not done yet."

Jeff just smiled. 

---

A few weeks later, The family had settled back into its familiar routine; taking the kids to and from their private school, Amy volunteering with her elderly friends at the nursing home, Jeff working with crime victims and various helping agencies and government departments. 

The house was busy, with the two lifemates, the three kids, and their various interests and activities. The twins were piano and dance students and soccer players, Harry was deep into military history and computer gaming, and Amy had acquired a new interest in playing Bridge. Her teacher was one of her retired friends at the home, and she played there twice a week. For his part, Jeff had taken up martial arts; he had a long way to go to catch up with Amy, who had studied with Geoff for ten years, but he was making quick progress. 

With the kids at home, the lovers' sexual acrobatics were confined to the bedroom. And the shower. And the steam room... And sometimes the floor. They didn't miss much. 

---

Jeff's work mostly had him interviewing and counseling crime victims at various police precincts, but he occasionally went to victims' homes; they were not infrequently afraid to go out in public, especially after particularly brutal assaults. 

On one such occasion, Jeff was sitting with a young woman whose face was still swollen and bandaged from a vicious attack by her boyfriend. They sat at a shabby kitchen table in her aging trailer, and once again Jeff felt sorrow for those who lived with such poverty and violence. The woman had already decided to press charges - that aspect of police work wasn't part of Jeff's job - and he tried to reassure her as they went through his forms and questions. 

Just as Jeff finished, and was sliding the papers across the table for her signature, they both jumped as the trailer was rocked by a tremendous crash. 




Canon Ch. 10



The boyfriend, an obese, coarse-looking man with closely cropped hair and heavily tattooed arms, had kicked in the door. He burst into the room, his eyes wild. 

"YOU BITCH! I'M GONNA KILL YOU!" he bellowed, and lifted a black, squarish pistol and leveled it at the woman. Glock, thought Jeff automatically. He was already moving. 

Jeff reacted without thought; he had already jumped to his feet, and he moved to protect the woman - between her and the gun. He was reaching for his own weapon when he saw the muzzle flash. He was not conscious of hearing a shot. 

Time seemed to slow down to a crawl. He had time to think: So this is what Amy felt like when those three punks attacked her... that gun is a Glock, probably a 9mm... front sight to center chest... Look at those tattoos...

He felt a sudden, hard blow to his chest, followed by a curious numbness; even so, he was still able to finish drawing his own weapon from its inside-the-waistband holster and double-tap the boyfriend in the chest. The big man went down, firing another shot at Jeff as he fell; Jeff saw the flash, felt a blow to his face, and darkness fell. 

Jeff fell to the floor insensible, with a red stain spreading rapidly across his chest and his face covered with blood. The second shot had struck him in the right eye.

---

The woman whose life he had just saved was already on the phone, and the police and an ambulance were there in minutes. The helicopter arrived shortly after, and Jeff was airlifted to the nearest trauma room in critical condition. 

There was no need for hurry with the boyfriend. He was dead.

As the chopper neared the circled cross of the landing pad, one EMT looked at another over the fallen cop and shook his head. "We're losing him," he said. 

"Not yet," said the other.. "Let's let the docs in the ER decide that." He applied chest compression again, risky so near the wound, but there was nothing else to do. He was rewarded with a weak, thready pulse. "If we can just keep him going till we get him in the OR, he still has a chance. Keep that oxygen on him." 

"How come he's not dead? He got shot in the eye."

"Look at his face. It hit him at an angle, blew out his eye socket and exited in front of his ear. Didn't hit his brain, but it might still kill him... There, I've got a pulse again. How long, Ivan?" he called toward the front.

The pilot shouted back, "We're here. Landing now." The two techs turned back to their patient as the aircraft settled onto the landing pad. 

The chopper doors opened, and a team from the ER took over and rushed him inside. Within minutes, Jeff was on an operating table with his chest wide open. Another team was working on his head. 

"Whaddya think?" asked one of the surgeons from behind his mask. 

The man with his hands in Jeff's chest was working too hard to answer. "Get that bleeder, will you? No, over here. That one can wait." He worked feverishly, but precisely. "Brenda, see if Dr. Wine is available. We need him." He wiped perspiration from his brow with a sleeve and finally said, "Don't know, Ed." As he worked, he added, "This is pretty bad. The bastard used hollowpoints. There's another bleeder... How's his head look?"

"Bad, but not life-threatening. He's lost the eye, but that's all. Shattered eye socket - it's just going to take time."

"Well, let's give it to him. If the head can wait, come help us with this chest."

--- 

Jeff saw the flash, felt a blow to his face, and darkness fell... 

....And the darkness was moving. Jeff felt that he was being pulled through a tunnel or passage of some kind at enormous speed, though he felt, heard and saw nothing - no wind, no light, no sound. Suddenly he burst out of whatever it was, and found himself back in that trailer - but he was high up, near the ceiling, and looking down. 

It took a moment to comprehend what he was seeing; three men in EMT uniform, crouching over someone on the floor - 

And the someone was himself. 

Jeff had no time to wonder. Suddenly he was moving again, at infinite speed, and could see nothing. It was neither dark nor light, warm nor cold; it was Nothingness, empty, a blank. He felt no pain; he felt nothing at all, but that strange sense of very rapid movement. 

Then he began to see his own life, as if projected in front of him on a 3-D screen. The old wive's tale turns out to be true, he thought - your life really does pass before your eyes. 

Jeff watched his life, from the outside, as if he were watching a movie. It seemed to pass by in a split-instant, like a lightning bolt, and at the same time to linger lovingly over every moment of his life, from his birth to those shots in the trailer. He experienced his own life through the eyes and hearts of other people, knowing and feeling how he had affected the lives of every human he had ever encountered or whose life he had touched. It seemed to last seconds, and at the same time to last for many lifetimes. 

He was vaguely pleased that he mostly seemed to have affected people in a positive way; few seemed to have been hurt by him - and seeing himself through Amy's eyes, and those of his children, was a revelation. He felt their love from the inside, and saw how they trusted him and depended on him and admired him. 

Then there were the many, many intimate encounters with the love of his life. Feeling his lovemaking through Amy's mind and body was overwhelming - but it was no more intense than he remembered. It was her pleasure and love reflected back at him, echoing his own. 

In looking back on his work, he felt the terror, and then the gratitude, of all the people he had helped - and finally, the gratitude of the woman whose life he had saved. The strange, unhurried but lightning-quick review of his life ended then, and he returned to the moving nothingness. 

After what might have been seconds or centuries - there seemed to be no time in that place - he saw, far in the distance, or something like distance, a light. It grew brighter, or perhaps nearer, slowly. He sensed a deep and abiding warmth from the light, affection, love, caring. It was only a light; he saw no human face, heard no words... 

*eyeblink*

*discontinuity* 

It was as if one reel of a movie had ended and another reel, from a different picture, had begun; one disorienting instant in which everything changed. Jeff could suddenly feel again. Indeed, he was overwhelmed with sensations. 

He was standing barefoot on wet sand, a warm salty wind in his face and sun on his back. He realized that his eyes were closed; he opened them. A white-sand beach, palm trees, a grass shack, an infinite blue ocean... 

I know this place, he thought. This is Juicy Island. 

He and Amy hadn't been to the island for more than a year; coordinating a trip with the kids was difficult, and the twins were still not yet at an age where they could enjoy it. They missed their TV shows and video games, not to mention McDonald's.... 

Someone was approaching him, walking along the beach. He blinked and looked more closely - his vision seemed to be sharper, as it had been when he was a child. It was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a weathered face, bald and clean-shaven - 

Jeff blinked, and then smiled. He knew that face; it was more than half his own face. It was his father's face. 

Geoff came closer, till they stood at arm's length. "Dad?" said Jeff. 

The old man smiled, but said nothing. He was taller than Jeff, and heavier. Amy would have said he looked the same as the last time she had seen him, or a bit younger. 

But Jeff, of course, had never seen him before. "Dad?" he asked again. 

Geoff nodded. "Hello, Akiro." 

Somehow he wasn't surprised that his father knew his birth name. 

"Am I dead?" 

Geoff grinned. "Not yet. That's what we need to talk about." 

"What? Where is this place? What's happening to me?" 

"This is a sort of in-between place, Akiro. Like a doorway. You can go on, or you can go back." 

"It's up to me?" 

Geoff nodded. "It's not often like that. But this time it is. Walk with me." 

The two men set off down the beach. They had not embraced, nor even touched each other. It hadn't seemed to occur to them. 

"I want to go back," said Jeff. 

"It'll be hard," said his father. "More pain than you've ever experienced, and a long time before you're back where you were - if you ever get there." 

"How long?" 

"That's up to you, too. How hard you work, how hard you fight. How much it means to you." 

Jeff thought. "I still want to go back. You know what I have to live for." 

Geoff nodded. "Amy and the kids. I wouldn't want to leave either." He grinned. "Hell, I didn't. But nobody gave me the choice. It was tough to give her up." 

"It's not about that, Dad." Jeff shook his head. "It's not for me. I want to take care of them. That's my job. To teach Harry what it means to be a man - to teach him to be like you, like his dad. To teach the girls to be tough as well as pretty, and kind as well as smart." He looked out at the ocean once more. "And I don't want Amy to be left alone, not again. She's had her share of mourning." 

"You ARE my son," said Geoff, his old gray eyes warm. "But she's had her share of being a caregiver, too, Akiro, with me. If you go back, she'll be doing that again, for a long time. You're going to need a LOT of care. Do you want to put her through that?" 

Jeff looked down at his feet shuffling through the sand. He wondered if it was real sand, or only an illusion of it in his mind. 

He was troubled. That, he had not thought of. He wanted to go back to care for his love, and for his kids - not to be cared for. 

"What's happening to me now, Dad? Really, I mean?" 

The old man spoke bluntly, as he had in life. "You're in surgery. It's touch and go. If you want to go on, your heart stops and doesn't start again. If you want to go back - well, that's when the hard part starts." 

The old man finally put his arm around his son's shoulders. "There's no guarantee that you won't be back here tomorrow, or next week. But if you want to try, this is when you decide." He released him. "Think carefully - son." 

Jeff thought as they walked for a while. Seabirds called above them, and the waves broke on the sugar-white sand. Jeff looked out at the ocean, then at the sky. 

Then he smiled. "I'm going back," he said. 

The two men looked at each other. "You know what it was, don't you?" asked the younger man. "You know why I have to go back." 

His father looked at him, then smiled and nodded, slowly. He, too, looked out at the sea. "Her eyes." 

"Yes. Blue like the ocean, brown like the earth." 

"I remember," said the old man, without sadness. "I never felt anything in my life like what I felt when she looked at me." And then he looked at his son. "And I'd have done anything to keep those eyes from crying." 

"Anything," Jeff agreed. "She'll be caring for me, Dad - but she won't be crying for me. And eventually I'll be able to care for her and the kids again. Take my place, again. We can go on as a family." 

"And it's important for a boy to know that his father's a hero," said Geoff, nodding. 

"I know - I've told Harry what you did -" 

"I meant you." 

Jeff blinked. "Oh," he finally said. "Uh... Thanks, Dad."

"You risked your life to save a woman you didn't even know. You almost lost it. You still might." He looked into his son's eyes, so similar and yet so different from his own, and said, "I'm proud of you, son. You made a good man. I wish we'd known each other. Harry, too - but a boy just needs one father." 

The old man smiled. "If you want to go back, Jeff -" the first and only time he used the name - "the time is now." 

Jeff squared his shoulders and nodded. "I guess l'm ready." He looked at his dad. "Anything else I need to know?" 

The older man looked at him, his expression curiously blank. After a moment, he said, "Look up in the attic when you get home." 

"The attic? What am I going to find?" 

"Just look. You'll see. Time to go, Akiro." 

"Okay." The two men finally embraced. "Goodbye, Dad." 

The old man grinned as they parted, and good-naturedly clapped a big hand on his son's shoulder. "We'll see each other again, son. Count on it." 

As the vision of his father faded, Jeff heard him say, "You take care of that girl, now," he said. Then, with a grin that lingered like the Cheshire cat's, "And take care of Honey and the Jag, too...." 

Dreamless sleep followed; though when Jeff finally woke, much later, he would remember almost everything. 

--- 

Amy and the children, all of them red-eyed and fearful, were huddled in the waiting room hours later. They were surrounded by cops and a few old soldiers, friends of Geoff's, as they waited. Her parents had driven in, and were trying to comfort the children. The twins wept occasionally, Harry tried not to, and Amy held onto them all as if they were all she had. They were. 

Jeff was in surgery for fourteen consecutive hours. His family was exhausted by the time the pale and disheveled surgeon came out to speak with them at 2:00 AM. Harry and the twins were sleeping fitfully on the sofas, and Amy was sipping coffee and nibbling on a sandwich that one of the cops had brought. Jeff's friends and coworkers had stayed with them in shifts, never leaving them alone. Frank and Ellie, Amy's parents, had been dozing as well, but roused themselves to join her as the doctor approached. 

Amy's heart sank when she saw the solemn expression on the surgeon's face. "He's dead, isn't he?" she burst out. Ellie put out a hand to touch her daughter's back. 

The man smiled tiredly and shook his head. "No," he said. "He's not dead." The three adults sighed with relief, but the physician continued: "He won't be out of danger till this time tomorrow, or later; but he's stable, we've repaired the damage, and he's strong. I think he has a very good chance." 

Amy knew he was overstating the case, but she clung to his words anyway. "He's going to be all right?" 

The surgeon nodded firmly and without hesitation. "I think so," he said. "The road back is going to be a long one, though. He's badly hurt..." 

The surgeon - who was that Dr. Wine who had been called in to consult, and had ended up taking over - sat down with Amy and gave her the details of her husband's injuries. The head wound, though ugly, was less dangerous than the injury to his chest. The hollowpoint bullet had ripped through Jeff's left lung, grazing his heart and causing considerable damage as it expanded and tore through his flesh. He had lost a great deal of blood, and besides two or three times on the helicopter, his heart had stopped on the operating table four times. The healing would take months. 

"He's lost the sight in his right eye, of course," said the surgeon. "And he's probably going to need some cosmetic surgery. Right now, that's the least of his problems. Let us watch him through the night, and we'll have more to tell you in the morning." 

The tired surgeon looked around at the family and the three cops who were listening. "His chances are good. My trauma team is the best, and he was stable and strong when we were done - strong heartbeat, breathing well, BP excellent. That's blood pressure," he added. After receiving some effusive thanks, he left to attend to his patient. 

Amy and her parents decided to let the kids sleep. The news would, she hoped, be even better in the morning. She knew they'd be worried and fearful till their father spoke to them again. Ellie sat down by the girls and Frank next to Harry, and they both put up their feet and stretched out to try to catch a few winks. 

Amy settled down on a sofa herself, wrapping herself in a blanket and trying to sleep. 

And pray... 

--- 

Amy, or her parents, or some of Jeff's friends from the Police Department were at his bedside around the clock while he was in the hospital. Since Amy herself was an RN - a registered nurse - the hospital staff allowed her to come and go at any hour. She gladly helped when it came time to bathe Jeff, change his catheter bags and IVs, change his sheets, and so on; and the nurses were glad of the help. City General, like most hospitals, was woefully understaffed. 

Jeff remained in Intensive Care for more than a month. He had not regained consciousness; the surgeons had induced a coma to deal with the swelling in his skull. Though the bullet had not penetrated Jeff's brain, his skull had suffered a complex fracture, and the impact and the trauma to surrounding tissues were devastating. 

---

When Geoff had told his son that this would be difficult for Amy, they were both thinking of his long convalescence; neither of them had thought of her time alone. She and Jeff had never been separated for more than a few hours since their marriage, and she found the loneliness and uncertainty to be painful - as painful as anything since her first husband's death. 

Amy sat by his bed and watched him through the morning and early afternoon, then picked up the kids from school and made them dinner. After they were tucked in at night, she often left them in the care of her mother and went back to the hospital. At other times, she sat in the living room and watched TV alone, till the wee hours; she disliked going to their bed by herself. 

When she did, she often found herself thinking of the love they had made there. Her hand would slip into her panties, and she would stroke herself - gasping with pleasure, but with tears in her eyes. Then, she'd roll over, hug her pillow, and cry herself to sleep. 

She missed him. She didn't only miss their lovemaking; she missed his affection, his closeness, the intimate sharing of her time and space and life with the man she loved. She didn't only miss shuddering on his cock, both of them slick with sweat in the steam room - she missed laughing with him over breakfast. She missed sharing her favorite comic strips with him as they read the paper together. She missed looking forward to his coming home from work. She missed rubbing his feet as he relaxed on the sofa after dinner. She missed the way he played and laughed with their children. Hell, she missed the way he belched. 

Amy was lonely. It would be so nice, she thought now and then, to be held again...

She always dismissed the thought. She'd be held when Jeff was better. 

---

One night, she sat on the sofa they had shared so often and didn't dismiss the thought. What if Jeff NEVER woke up? What then? 

Did she have to be lonely forever? 

She didn't exactly think it all through then, or even have a real fantasy, but her mind did begin to wander a bit... 

There was a fellow who volunteered at the nursing home, a bit younger than she, but tall and attractive. And obviously interested; he had paid a lot of attention to Amy when he first began, then backed off a bit when he learned she was married - but he still seemed to seek her out more than necessary. They talked often, and though Amy was consciously and deliberately a bit cool toward him, she was polite and friendly enough. 

She wondered what would happen if she warmed up to him a bit... Maybe...

Amy blinked, then her eyes widened. She inhaled deeply, then let it out.

Then she smiled, wryly.

"Hello, Geoffie," she said. She was conscious of his scent, strong, masculine and familiar, all around her. There was no sense of his "presence," but the scent was unmistakable. She knew he was there. 

She sighed. "Okay, I get it. That's not me, and that's not what I need." She nodded. "What I need, is Jeff back. And that's all."

Then she felt it; warmth, affection, love. He was all around her, comforting her, soothing her fears, calming her nerves. 

She leaned back on the couch, relaxing in the warmth. She snuggled, unconsciously, against nothing, eyes closed, smiling softly. In minutes, she was asleep.




Canon Ch. 10



---

In subsequent days, Amy went about her tasks calmly, with a quiet serenity she had not known she could achieve. When she went to see Jeff, she held his hand and spoke to him now; before, wrapped up in her own loneliness and fear, she could only sit beside him and watch. He couldn't give her the affection and love she so needed, not now, but that didn't mean she couldn't give hers to him. 

He didn't respond; he just lay there, his hand limp in hers. But she had learned that there was more to the world than what she could see, and she knew that somehow, somewhere, he felt her love.

After he was moved to a private room, she encouraged the kids to come and talk to their father as if he were awake; they were uncomfortable at first, but being kids, soon they were chattering away as if Jeff were listening and laughing. 

And one day, after the twins had told him about a class trip to the art museum, Jeff smiled. Amy and the kids gathered around him and touched him and hugged him and kissed his bandaged face - and he smiled again.

Amy smiled too. Soon, she thought. Soon...

---

A few days later, Jeff finally regained consciousness - and it wasn't a good thing when he did. He woke to blinding pain, still intense even though blunted by drugs. 

The doctors soon had his pain under control, but at the price of full consciousness; he was so heavily medicated that he could barely speak a coherent sentence. He could smile, though, and that was enough for Amy. 

The right side of his face was bandaged, and his left eye was red and bleary. He blinked up at his wife, and his lips curved upward. She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back weakly - then closed his eye and slept again. It would be days before he could remain awake for more than a few minutes at a time. 

Later, he would remember a few bright spots in that dark time; his wife's beautiful face, tearful but grateful; his children, delighted to see him awake but troubled at his appearance; and sleep, lots of healing sleep. 

The pain gradually diminished, and Jeff slowly grew stronger. After a week or two of consciousness, Jeff found himself able to stay up for a couple of hours at a stretch and even to leave the bed for short periods - which he reserved for time with Harry and the twins. It was less troubling to them to see Daddy sitting in a chair. He was even allowed to hold the girls in his lap, but only one at a time. 

His mind grew clearer, and as the pain ebbed and he grew stronger, Jeff began to reflect on what had happened to him. 

He had learned in the hospital that the had been clinically dead for quite some time, and more than once. He had said nothing to anyone about his near-death experience, or about seeing his father. He was still digesting it himself, and, too, he knew that the first person he would tell would be Amy. 

Finally, after several more weeks, he was sent home with a warning to stay in bed and behave as if he were a heart-transplant recipient. 

"Your heart was grazed by the bullet," said Doctor Wine, "and we had to do what amounts to a double bypass to repair the damage. The good news is that you should recover completely. The bad news is that it's probably going to take the better part of a year." 

Amy squeezed Jeff's hand, and he asked, "What about sex?" 

The doctor smiled and ran a hand over his thinning hair. "Not for a while. Sorry. But his heart needs to mend a bit before we get it beating that fast." He was looking at Amy, who blushed. Jeff and the doctor grinned. "I'll be running tests on your heart every few weeks. I'll let you know, okay?" 

"Fair enough," said Jeff. 

"We'll be looking at the head wound and planning some surgery there, too, of course. Eventually we'll fit you with a prosthetic eye, and you'll look normal again, or almost." He looked at the floor for a moment. "We literally dodged a bullet there, Jeff. A quarter-inch to the right or up, and you'd never have made it to the hospital. As it was, we were pretty worried about brain damage, since you were out for so long." At Amy's concerned look, he added, "Don't worry. There wasn't any. Jeff's going to be fine."

Amy puffed out a relieved breath, then looked at her husband fondly. "I dunno about that artificial eye," she said with a smile. "I think the eye patch is kind of dashing." Jeff grinned and touched the black leather patch, which tapered to a strap above his ear, wider there to cover the scar. 

"Arrr," he said. "Shiver me timbers, lass." Then he looked at his shoulder. "Where's my parrot?"

They all laughed, and Jeff silently winced. Laughter wasn't wise, in his condition. 

Amy took the surgeon's hand in both of her own. "Thank you, Doctor," she said. "Thank you for my husband. For giving him back to me." 

Doctor Wine nodded, beaming. "That's what I do," he said. "I give beautiful women their husbands back." He shrugged. "Eh. It's a living..." 

They all laughed again, Jeff gently, and Amy pushed his wheelchair out of the hospital room accompanied by the doctor and a nurse. 

--- 

And Jeff was finally home. It was, as Geoff had said, hard on Amy; trying to care for Jeff, and the kids, singlehanded - and keep them from driving their father mad - would have been even harder if her parents hadn't moved into a spare bedroom to help. They frequently took the kids back to their own place, for days at a time; but there were no sexual adventures when they did. Cuddling was the best they could do, and that not often. Ir was difficult, but Amy relished every moment of it. Her Jeff was home. 

For Jeff, the difficulty was simply staying in bed. He resented it, even as he slept twelve or fourteen hours a day. Amy tried to be patient, and after a while regarded Jeff's grumpiness with a sense of humor, teasing him about being Oscar the Grouch. When he laughed at that, she knew he would be all right. They began to play gin in the evening, and that helped - he always felt better when he won. Amy made sure that he usually did. 

The day came when he felt capable of telling her about what had happened to him while he was dead. 

--- 

"...and the last thing he said was, "Take care of Honey and the Jag, too." 

Jeff was lying in his own bed, at home, and Amy was sitting on it next to him. 

She laughed, her cheeks wet. "He looked good, didn't he? Healthy. You know, strong." 

"He sure did. Why?" 

"I saw him too, in a dream -"

"Oh, that's right." 

"- and he looked good. The last time I saw him for real - well, you know."

"Yes." 

She brushed away a lock of hair that had fallen into his eyes. "What else did he say?" 

Jeff thought. "I can't think of anything. We only had a few minutes. At least, that's what it seemed like." He smiled. "It was cool to meet him, though. He was taller than I thought he'd be." His brow wrinkled beside the eye patch. "Seems like there's something I was supposed to do, though. I just can't remember what." 

After a moment, he shrugged. "I guess it'll come to me. Anyway, I feel pretty good today."

Amy smiled. "Okay. You just work on getting better. Want some lunch?" 

He looked up at her hopefully. "Burger?" 

She considered. "How's your stomach?" Jeff had had some nausea as an aftereffect of the anesthesia, and it still cropped up from time to time. 

"Rumbling." 

She considered. "Okay. A small burger. You want cheese?" 

"Yes! And lettuce and tomatoes and pickles and jalapeno peppers and mustard! And a whole bunch of greasy onion rings!"

"Whoa, cowboy!" laughed Amy. "No peppers, and no rings. Those you get in a few more weeks, maybe. One step at a time." 

"Never argue with an experienced nurse," he said with a smile. After a moment, he added, "A doctor told me that." 

"He was right. Do you want homemade, or do you just want me to run out and bring you a Big Mac?" 

"Make it a Whataburger?" 

"Promise not to eat all of it?" 

"Make it a Whataburger Jr., then. Fries?" 

"Sure. A few. Just don't overdo it. You've only been back on solid food for a couple of weeks." 

He lay back on the pillow. "Yes, Ma'am." 

"That's better. I'll be back in a few minutes." 

He watched her go appreciatively - her shorts were very tight on her delectable bottom. 

Soon, he thought. Soon. 

---

It wasn't long before Jeff was up and about, moving around easily. He still tired quickly, and they kept the wheelchair in the garage for outings where Jeff would have to walk a great deal; but they both knew that it wouldn't be needed long, even for that. 

His eye had healed well; Jeff had opted to do without the prosthetic and keep the patch. Amy found it exciting, and she wasn't put off by the scars when he took it off; they were ugly, but Amy saw only the marks of his determination to come back to her. She loved them. 

Jeff chose to retire on disability - he loved his work, but a one-eyed cop is at a distinct disadvantage on the street. Besides, he joked, now he'd scare the children. 

They were now free to do what they liked. They still went to the nursing home a couple of days a week - Amy had continued to visit her elderly friends, even while Jeff was in the hospital, at least weekly. They were all excited to see Jeff back on his feet; they had followed his progress through Amy for months, and he graciously endured dozens of earnest inquiries about how he felt. And pirate jokes. 

When Doctor Wine finally pronounced him fit for, as he put it, "intimate activity," the two of them went home from the hospital quivering with anticipation. They hadn't made love for the better part of a year, and they were hungry for it.

They had snuggled often, and once or twice Jeff had brought Amy to orgasm with his hand; but that made it hard on him - so to speak - and they had mostly chosen to wait. Tonight the waiting would be over; the kids were at their grandparents', and they had the big house to themselves. 

Jeff smiled as Amy scrunched herself closer to him in the car. "I know what," he said.

"What?" she murmured, her cheek against his shoulder.

"How about a nice oil massage? I haven't given you one for ages. And you know how I like to see you all shiny..."

"Ooo... That sounds... Delicious," she said. 

---

And it was. Jeff had not seen Amy naked for months; they had obscurely worried that it might not be good for him, and Jeff had found it frustrating anyway. He was amazed at his own excitement as she lay down on the towel he had spread on the master bathroom floor. "I never got this hard when I was sixteen," he said. He pulled off his briefs, and Amy's eyes widened as she looked up at him standing over her.

"Oh, my God," she breathed. "I am in BIG trouble..."

He knelt beside her, and she settled onto her stomach as he poured the warm, scented oil onto the small of her back. He marveled at the pale perfection of her skin, as he always did. Pink and white, peaches and milk... He smoothed the oil over her bare, smooth back, and she sighed with contentment. 

Jeff had grown very good at this over the years, and he kneaded Amy's muscles expertly - firmly but gently, working both relaxation and pleasure into her back and limbs. As he stroked and massaged her lovely legs, his cock began to pound a bit. He felt as hard as a flagpole. 

"Don't wear yourself out, honey," Amy whispered, her cheek on the towel. 

"I won't. Turn over," he said. She could hear the smile in his voice. 

She turned over. Jeff gasped. It had been so long...

Amy lay before him, pale and bare. His eyes were drawn to her pink, plump pussy, as bare and bald as his palm - but then they wandered. Her heavy breasts sagged outward a bit more than they had when she was younger, but he found their softness exciting. Her belly was flat and smooth, her thighs round and soft... And slightly open...

He poured oil on her sweet bellybutton and she giggled. A moment later, his hands were all over her, smearing the slippery oil on her smooth skin. 

She writhed a bit, sensuously. "That's not a massage," she breathed. He was kneading and fondling her soft breasts, squeezing her hard nipples between his fingers. 

"It'll do..." 

His voice held that low, breathy growl that excited her so. God, it's been so long, she thought...

No one else could make me feel this way. I was insane to even think it...

He began to both caress and massage her, working on her muscles as well as her skin. He alternated deep massage with sensuous stroking and fondling, and Amy grew dizzy at the sensations. She was relaxing and growing more excited at once - a languid and steamy feeling. She spread her thighs wider.

Jeff's oily hands touched her hairless pussy. She spread even wider, and lifted her knees a bit. He poured oil on her bare lips and began to rub it in, and she hissed and lifted her hips to meet him.

He watched, mesmerized, as the beautiful woman before him began to hump and grind her hips, thighs spread wide and pussy gaping. He fingered her slippery hole, so familiar and so sweet, and so long absent...

"Oh, God, Jeffie... Can I come?"

He smiled and rubbed her swollen clit. "Nope," he said. "You hold it. Don't come till I tell you." 

He knew the game, one of Amy's favorites. He wouldn't allow her to come till she was pleading with him to let her, grimacing and hanging on desperately as she fought to hold back her orgasm... as he cruelly worked her gushing, grasping pussy and swollen, sensitive clit. He rubbed her bare button intensely, savoring her grunts and gasps. "Please..." she whimpered, gritting her teeth as he massaged below her clit, rubbing its hidden shaft. "Please, Jeffie... Pleeease let me come..."

"Just a little longer," he growled, sliding two fingers deep in her wet, twitching hole. 

"Oh, GOD... Nnngh... Please..."

He dug deep in her wet pussy and lifted her up, pressing against her bare clit and shaking her. "You can come," he whispered, and Amy made a gagging sound and convulsed under his hands, jerking and quivering uncontrollably as her long-delayed orgasm shook her to her core. 

"Y-yes, Jeffie, fuck me... Fuck me hard.... Oh, fuck me, Jeff, give me that big hard dick..."

"Just a little longer," he whispered. 

He made her come twice more before he finally fucked her. He teased and massaged her wet, trembling opening till she rose to her orgasm, again and again. She shook and shuddered and humped her hips desperately as she pushed out her third climax - and just as she was beginning to come down from her peak, Jeff rolled over onto her and slid his cock all the way up her red, squeezing pussy. 

She arched her back and then instantly reversed the motion, rolling her hips upward to take his dick deeper. Then she gasped and began to sit up. "Oh, no," she breathed, pushing back on his shoulder. He hesitated, confused, then got it and let her push him back. "You're not doing the work," she said as she lifted one lovely leg to straddle him. "You just relax and enjoy the show."

"Mmm. Yes, Ma'am," said Jeff, with a grin. He lay back and watched as his beautiful wife crouched over his cock and guided it into her wet, bald pussy, smiling at him as she did so. 

"Ooo," she squeaked as it slid home. "Ooo, Jeffie... You're so -"

"Big," they said together. She laughed, which felt indescribable on his bare dick. He hadn't been inside her for so long...

Amy began to rock back and forth, gently, sliding her slippery tube up and down on his hard shaft and sensitive dickhead. It was exquisite. 

Normally Amy would make it last for him, stretch it out, slow him down; but this time, she worked her pussy muscles on his cock and shook her beautiful, heavy breasts at him and whispered the naughty things that she knew would make him shoot - "Ooo, Jeffie, I'm yours... I belong to you... I'll do anything for you... Shoot in my pussy, love..."

As he did, she embraced him and worked her gushing hole on his spurting cock. Jeff wanted it to last, but the stimulation - and his woman's love - were so intense and deep,..

He shuddered and unloaded his balls for the first time in months. It felt like his brains were shooting into her pussy; maybe they were, for a moment anyway. He jerked and strained to pump his cock as deep inside her as he could, and just grunted and gasped as he shot her full. Amy clung to him and worked her pussy on his cock like he was the last man on Earth. 

Afterward, they lay on the bathroom floor together and gasped and giggled. "That was so good," said Amy. "And it's been so long..." 

"Yeah," said Jeff. He smiled, then laid a hand on his chest. "Uh-oh." 

"What?" asked Amy, her mouth open. She looked more suspicious than alarmed.

"Still beating. Didn't work, evil woman. You're stuck with me."

She laughed and fell into his arms. "God, I love you. Do me again tonight, in the steam room." 

"You got it, lady." He squeezed her. 

"How do you feel, really?" she asked, her mouth an inch from his.

"Fine, baby. Really. Out of breath, chest pounding, all that, just like I should be. No pain, no problems."

"Okay." She kissed his eye patch. "Do I look okay, with just one eye?"

He considered, his lips pursed critically. "Well, I do kind of miss the 3-D effect when you shake your tits in my face, but otherwise it's pretty much the same." 

She giggled, then her face lit up. "Oh, Jeffie! I just thought! Now we can play Pirate and Kidnapped Heiress. You can tie me up and rape me silly!"

"Me and my crew," he growled. "You'll be blindfolded, Your Highness. You won't know WHO'S fucking you..."

"Mmm! I can't wait!" she squealed. "Ooo, where'll we do it?"

"Tied to the trees by the pool?"

"Sure! But... Ooh, ooh, I know! In the attic!"

"The attic?"

"Sure! It's like under the deck of a ship, with the exposed beams!"

Jeff was staring at the ceiling. "The attic..."

"What? What is it?"

---

Fifteen minutes later, they were up in the dusty space beneath the roof. It was enormous, extending the width of the house, with dim and hazy light coming in through a few dormer windows. Almost two hundred years of family history, and family junk, was stored here in ranks and rows and neatly organized quadrants - clothes here, furniture there, boxes and trunks over there. "It's like a different world up here," said Jeff. "Cross between a museum and a junkyard."

They looked around. Jeff was barefoot, in jeans and without a shirt; the scars on his chest were still pink and angry, but he looked fit. Amy was wearing a T-shirt and panties, her usual casual garb. "Where do we start?" she asked.

"Beats me. Maybe over there, where all those boxes are. I don't even have any idea what we're looking for."

"I guess it'll be easy to find."

"That's what I got from him. He didn't say so, but he did say, 'Just look.'"

They began to move toward the stacks of boxes, looking around as they walked, peering into corners and behind furniture. The attic contained a dizzying assortment of objects; lamps, chairs, toys, even an enormous overstuffed sofa piled high with boxes and bags.

They opened boxes and shuffled through old pictures and papers and books for more than an hour, finding nothing of interest except to geneaologists. Nothing of much historical value, either; a rusty old Confederate sword, a rustier cap-and-ball revolver, even a massive oak dining table behind the stacks of boxes and trunks. The table bore a single object, a large, white cardboard box. Jeff looked at the table and scratched his head. "What'd they do, build the attic around this thing? How did they get it up here?"

"Maybe it comes apart. Look, Jeff," said Amy. "What's that? Is that Japanese?"

He looked. The box on the table was, indeed, hand marked with Japanese characters. "It says 'Family records and heirlooms.'" He looked closer. "And it's in my mother's handwriting," he added, confused. She always made that funny little mark in the character for "Family" kind of sideways like that... Never mind. She wrote that, anyway." He set about opening the lid. 




Canon Ch. 10



"I wonder what's in it?"

"I wonder why Dad HAD it. Seems funny that Mom would give it to him... Well, this is interesting," he said, lifting a long, curved package. 

"That looks like a sword," said Amy. 

"I think it is," said Jeff, setting it aside. "The rest seems to be papers and - oh, my God." 

"What? That folder of pictures?"

Jeff was gaping. "Amy, these aren't just pictures," he said. "These are prints, original woodblock prints. This one looks like a Hiroshige, but I've never seen it before." He looked up. "There are more of them, more folders. Amy, these could be valuable. Very valuable."

"What about the sword?"

"Let's look." He unwrapped the paper, and found a wrapping of silk inside. As he unwrapped that, a square of rice paper fell to the floor. He picked it up and read it. 

His eyes widened, and he sat down on the enormous sofa heavily, raising a cloud of dust. Amy sneezed, then asked, "What is it?"

His mouth hanging open, he handed the slip of paper to her. "I can't read Japanese," she said ironically. "What does it say?" 

"Just a minute." Jeff was rummaging in the box, and had come up with another folder of documents. He spoke as he looked through them. 

"It says that this sword belonged to Ieyasu Tokugawa himself, the first Shogun." He held up a sheaf of documents. "These papers authenticate it." He set the papers aside and finished unwrapping the sword, and they both bent over it, marveling at the lacquer work on the sheath. Jeff slowly pulled it from the scabbard, and the blade shone like a mirror. There was a misty line of demarcation along the edge, the "hamon," which resembled a morning mist on the bank of a river. 

"It looks new," said Amy.

"This sword is over four hundred years old," said Jeff. He examined the markings at the base of the blade, comparing them to a paper he had taken from the folder. "This is the real thing," he said. "The Shogun's katana."

"My God. That's like having the sword of King Arthur or something." 

Jeff nodded. "He may have had others, but this is the sword he wore at the seige of Osaka Castle. It's literally priceless."

She blinked. "What do we do with it? Auction it off?"

He made a face. "We could," he said. "But this sword belongs in the Japanese national museum. What would we do if we found a sword that belonged to George Washington?" 

She smiled and nodded, understanding,. "We should give it to the Japanese government."

He grinned. "I'll call the consulate tomorrow." He waved a hand. "We'll get plenty from the prints, Amy. Those are priceless too."

"Not that we need it, anyway," she said. Geoff had left them very well-off.

"Every little bit helps," he said. "What else is in here?"

They both peered into the box.

---

The Japanese government was, one might say, receptive; the entire family was flown to Tokyo in order to allow Jeff and Amy to present the sword to the Emperor himself, in person. This, and the requisite state dinner, was followed by two weeks of touring Japan in style, and at the expense of the government. They were celebrated everywhere, and interviewed countless times by the Japanese media. 

It was a wonderful vacation. Jeff introduced Amy to the pleasures of the Japanese bath, and charmed her with the tea ceremony; they were dazzled by the lights and action of the Ginza, where they and the children were treated to some of the newest and most exotic electronic gadgets - all gifts, of course. They also had free admission to theme parks, museums, concerts, and even baseball games. The children were a bit confused at dealing with their first Japanese toilet, but otherwise the trip went smoothly. 

One evening, as they strolled in one of the elegant gardens of Kyoto, watching the children feed the Koi fish, Jeff stopped to consult his iPhone. "That was Sotheby's," he said. "Email."

"What did they say?" They had placed the folder of prints with the famous auction house for authentication, appraisal, and sale. 

"They haven't even set the date for the auction yet, and they have offers - well, they say we're going to set records."

She shook her head dizzily. "It's all so amazing."

"Yes. I wonder if -" 

He stopped. "Do you hear that?"

She blinked. "It can't be. Not here..."

"Over that way. Kids! Come on!"

Harry and the girls came running, and Harry, ever observant, stopped and blinked as well. "I know that song," he said.

The family walked around a bend in the path, and there, in a small gazebo-like teahouse set cunningly into the garden's landscaping, was a string quartet playing Pachelbel's Canon in D.

They settled on the grass to listen. The musicians noted them appreciatively, nodding; other people were around, but they were mostly walking in the gardens, treating them as background music. 

There, with his wife's head on his shoulder and his children gathered close, Jeff put his arms around them all and felt - grateful. 

All was well. They were together, safe, prosperous, and happy. So happy, he thought; so happy. What have I ever done to deserve this? He kissed his wife's hairline, hugged the girls in his lap, and tousled his son's hair. He thought of the island, with the beach where he had seen his father. Maybe we'll retire there, he thought. I can get satellite for the kids. 

At least part of the time, anyway. He knew they wouldn't be giving up the big old house. What other secrets are there, he thought? He looked forward to digging around in that mysterious attic again. Maybe the kids would enjoy it, too.

The Canon had ended. By signs, Jeff asked the musicians to play it again, and they did. The family settled in for a little, to listen to their favorite music once more before it was time to go back to the hotel. How strange to hear something so familiar, so beloved, so far away from home.

Then Jeff grinned. The kids will enjoy the attic, he thought. But first, Amy and I have to go back up there by ourselves.

He'd already ordered their costumes; mariner's jacket and boots, princess's gown, rubber sword, stuffed parrot, and all. 

----

This will be my last submission to Literotica.