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Remembrance

By: Womaninscarlet



It’s been almost a month since I last saw him, yet I can’t get him out of my mind. Memories of our time together sneak into my thoughts without warning and, every single time, my body responds just as if he were here in front of me again. I think of his engaging smile and a wave of heat rolls through me, slow and arousing. Remembering the possessive feel of his hands on my body causes a longing so intense that my knees weaken. When I think of his low voice rumbling in my ear, the need continues to build, until it becomes a physical throb, centered deep in my womb. God, I want him again! My body craves his in a way that I’ve never experienced before.

I slide my hands over my breasts, cupping their heavy softness the way that he did. A faint whimper escapes my lips as I gently pinch my hard nipples. It feels so good, but it isn’t enough. I’m missing the wet heat of his mouth as he licked and kissed the stiff peaks, that firm, need-awakening pressure as he sucked on them. My head falls back as I continue to caress myself, my long dark hair sweeping teasingly against my bare back. Not quite as good as the feel of his hands on my skin, but still arousing.

My hand moves lower, stroking against the softness of my gently rounded belly as I start to relive our lovemaking in my mind. Before my fingers ever reach the patch of silky brown hair between my pale thighs, I am already very wet. I slip one finger between my labia, savoring the slippery moisture and thinking of the way his mouth felt against me, his breath coming hot and fast as he laved me with his tongue. My ample hips thrust upward as my fingertip touches my throbbing clit, just the way they did when he was kneeling between my thighs, sucking and licking at me. I quickly grow wetter as I think of his hands under my ass, lifting and opening me as he feasted.

I let my index finger slide into my pussy, feeling how hot and tight it is. The rate of my breathing increases as I remember how it felt to have his longer, thicker fingers doing the same thing, thrusting so deeply into me and slowly pulling back out again. I’m not sure he realized just how crazy it made me when he did that, his mouth latched onto my clit, sucking gently, and his tongue flicking against the sensitive flesh at the same time. If he’d stopped at that point, I would have begged for more, would have promised to do anything he wanted, but he didn’t stop until I came, gasping his name aloud as the orgasm rolled through me.

Without him here, I know it is going to take more than a few quick strokes of my fingers to bring me to that same state. The feel of my finger sliding in and out of my moist heat makes my breath come faster still, but it in no way compares to the long, hard thrusts of his cock inside me. How can the sensation of my slender finger possibly do the same for me as his wonderful thickness? I reach into the drawer of my bedside table and bring out my favorite toy, a simple vibrator with a penis-shaped sheath over it. It’s just the right size, almost a perfect replica of my lover’s hard cock… and just what I need right now.

Switching the toy on, I rub the tip up and down my wet slit. The humming motor sends delicious vibrations all through my body as it touches my clitoris. The vibrator grasped firmly in my right hand, I use the fingers of the left to spread my labia wide and it sinks slowly into my pussy. I gasp aloud as I push it deeper, stopping only when I feel it hit my cervix; there’s nothing like the feeling of that first thrust, that little shock to the system as my body is invaded.

That is MUCH better, I think, feeling the dildo stretch me open the way my lover’s thick cock did. My pussy gets slicker and hotter as the shaft of the vibrator rubs over my clit with every outward movement. I close my eyes as I angle the toy slowly in and out of my wetness. My heart pounding and my breath rasping harshly in my ears, I lose myself in the memory. I can almost feel his weight on my body again, his broad shoulders under my fingertips as I cling to him. His arms held me so close against him, making me feel like a precious thing. My legs wrapped around his waist, my hips thrusting up to meet his every stroke as he urges me to come for him.

Almost before I am ready for it to happen, I feel the tension build in my body. I moan his name loudly, not caring if anyone hears the sound, when the heavy throbbing begins in my clit, radiating outward until it encompasses my whole body, every muscle contracting as the pleasure rolls over me. The spasms come in waves, each growing in intensity until I can take no more. My need temporarily assuaged, I smile, switching off the toy, and remove it from my throbbing, sopping wet pussy. I roll over onto my side, hugging my pillow to me and wishing I had him beside me once again. Soon, I promise myself as I drift off to sleep.

Remembrance



The cool air coming in from the open window kept the space beneath the covers all the more warm and inviting yet more so were the arms of another. To lay there and listen to another's heart beating after having slid into the shared warmth beneath the sheets was so intoxicating to her senses, sometimes it gave Amanda cause to wonder how much of this was dream and how much was real.

Dreaming, how much it meant, to draw on the ephemeral world that was just beyond touch, a miasma of warm color ever just within sight, indescribable yet occasionally felt. Felt. Feelings that coursed through one's veins. Do you know what it's like to reach out and touch a dream and hold it to your arms? To feel its kiss blow across your cheek like it meant to say something but was afraid someone else would hear?

Someone else. 

It was two in the morning and her lover was asleep. So peaceful. Always so very peaceful really, a sleeper yet somewhere within those eyes she'd found a heart that woke up in her presence. At first a giddy unease, and then a few shared glances. Ever the eyes, Christ, what was it about those eyes? Moon touched pools one could get lost in. 

Then there was that afternoon when the snow was falling and that brutal wind was whipping down the street, and through the city while cars, trucks and city buses coursing down the main street made the going rather hard. They'd been planning to wait for the bus, but transit strikes made that hellish and it was so cold. So with probably five to ten minutes or so to wait and a whipping chiller that refused to relent outside they took to a restaurant walk-in area, ostensibly to use the pay phone.

The space in the door way was cramped but it was ample respite from the outside biting wind chill. There was a window that looked out onto the street and with a bit of leaning it was possible to watch for the coming bus down the end of the street. Amanda had dialed the "AUTOBUS" telephone number for the stop and waited while Tara gazed out the window. While waiting for the damned automated voice to get on with the schedule Tara had mentioned she thought she saw the bus coming. It was rather hard to see, what with the low visibility on account of the falling snow what was coming for sure but Amanda tried to pick out the familiar lights of something resembling a bus.

After a few solid seconds she couldn't see anything and mentioned it to Tara. Tara was dead quiet, like her breath had skipped a beat. Amanda's gaze had fallen over Tara's shoulder, and by this point had been leaning forward to make out the outside world while both their breathes had gradually started to steam up the window. For a second it didn't click, and then with a possibly accidental movement, Amanda leaned in. For an instant she caressed her warm cheek against Tara's. 

Tara's arm reached back, grasping at Amanda's bright red ski jacket and pulled her closer if such a thing was really possible in the little restaurant doorway. Seconds passed and they just stood that way saying not a word, the wind outside whipping by, people busily going about their way shopping blindly in the stores that littered the thoroughfare. 

Moments later a bell sounded and tinkling the way restaurant bells do, a couple of suits carrying several bags of fast food walked out after a bit of shuffling and complaining that Amanda and Tara were blocking the way out. So they jostled about and eventually were left to their own devices, the phone's handset dangling by its cord, dropped in the shuffling. Standing face to face at this point, a slight awkward silence reigned aside from the bus schedule being listed aloud by the fallen phone receiver. 

It was hard to remember who had moved first, or if they had both been reeled in by some unseen strand of essence interlocking their bodies. After a few moments their lips had touched, and Amanda held Tara close wishing Tara's eyes had stayed open as their lips grazed across each other, touching, shivering, feeling... 

It must have been no more than a few seconds, but something had changed then and there. They traced lips for a few more aching moments before breaking as the sound of the bus outside gave them a start. On the bus ride home, they didn't talk much, but as they rode home in quiet silence Tara's eyes revealed a newfound understanding that warmed Amanda's heart more than any H & R sweater or northern ski lodge fire place could ever hope to. Besides, the bus was busy and it was hard to hold any kind of meaningful conversation on a bus that was full of high school students being noisy and rude. 



Remembrance



She remembers being 22 years old, opening her eyes, turning her head and seeing a fully erect cock sticking out from under her right arm. It was shiny and slick with oil and was thrusting back and forth urgently. She remembers she was kneeling, straddling one man with his organ buried deep in her ass, while another crouched in front of her, enjoying her nipples. Then she remembers, later on, being upright but not standing, her feet not touching the floor because of the boner that was buried in her ass, holding her off the floor, and the second one which rammed her cunt at the same time. She remembers how her feet had dangled uselessly as the two men enjoyed her. 

She remembers sucking off two, no...seven men in a row and how her tummy had gurgled afterwards from the bubbly globs of jizz she'd gulped. But she remembers how her stomach settled when they put her on her hands and knees and began to lubricate her ass-hole. She'd burped and the smell-flavor of fresh semen wafted up and filled her nose.

She remembers laying on her back a long (or short) time later, somewhere in that same house, being screwed hard and fast by some other man. His face blurred with the rest of them. But she remembers how someone had grabbed her ankle and hauled her leg up and out to the side slightly, and then how it felt to have a cock-head pushing and pressing into the sole of her foot. It had had a massage-like quality.

She remembers how her other foot was then pulled aside and used the same way, and she remembers how it felt when the first load of cum gushed out and leaked between her toes from underneath and how it felt as that goo slowly seeped down the top of her pointing foot. She remembers there was a hot spray right afterwards and how it smelled as the tiny droplets of urine, splashing through her toes, rained down on her like a warm mist.

She remembers standing at the refreshment table, drinking a soda while someone fucked her from behind. She let it happen while she finished her drink. She grabbed a handful of chocolate chip cookies and stood, and felt a river of semen oozing down the inside of her right thigh. She remembers heading outside for a breath of fresh air, wanting to be alone after hours of continuous fucking and taking another soda and cookies with her. She remembers how it felt to have drying cum on the bottoms of her bare feet and how her toes seemed glued together by it.

She remembers padding up the carpeted stairs and meeting yet another man and letting him lift her from the floor and settle her on his rigid cock. She remembers trying not to spill her drink while he fucked her that way, and remembers how thankful she was that when he was through he set her gently back down on the floor again.

She remembers nibbling her cookies and finishing them long before she reached the top floor of the house, and how even the hallway up there was littered with writhing, naked bodies of both genders, doing things to each other with no regard of gender. 

She remembers glancing at a cute girl, her age, who knelt, sucking the toes of yet another cute girl, and how the second one seemed to enjoy it so much. She remembers wondering to herself about that, and remembering how nice it felt, how actually erotic it was when those men had used her feet for their pleasure. Eight of them, she remembers. 

And she remembers how she needed to pee and found a bathroom down the hall, one with doors on both sides of the room, and how she sat and smiled to herself at being able to simply sit and not worry about letting down her panties - or removing anything else for that matter - and how she sipped her soda as she peed and felt quite pleased with herself for no reason at all.

She remembers how the other door to the bathroom opened and how two men came in and saw her relieving herself ,and the shock and then excitement she felt deep inside because it was the first time anyone had watched her pee. She remembers how the men stood stroking their already hard cocks as they watched her and how she smiled at them and how she felt herself blush - even after all she'd been through. She remembers how they then came up to her where she sat and pushed their dicks at her and how she'd opened her mouth and sucked them at first, and then how she simply kept still while they thrust in and out of her mouth. She remembers how they took turns and how one would watch, slowly rubbing himself while the other used her mouth and how happy she felt that they found her pretty enough to look at and to take pleasure in.

She remembers that neither of them came, but that they stood back and peed in her lap. She remembers how it felt to have that hot water leaking down between her thighs and down underneath her pussy and dripping down to join her own pee in the toilet bowl, and she remembers how much she wanted them to fuck her, but that they turned and went out the other door.

She remembers feeling alone in that cool room, even though the heat of the piss was still warming her thighs. 

She remembers how another girl came in, naked and barefoot as she was, saw her sitting on the toilet and started to apologize and withdraw, and how she found herself quickly telling the girl she was through and that she could use the toilet. She remembers standing, flushing and starting to leave and remembers the girl's soft voice asking her to stay and keep her company. She remembers agreeing with a shrug and a nod and going to sit on the edge of the bath tub, looking at the walls and ceiling, trying to give the girl some sense of privacy. But she remembers glancing over once or twice and finding that the girl was actually quite pretty, and she remembered the other two girls in the hall, making love, and she looked at the girl again, enjoying the quiet sounds of her urine splashing in the silent room, and how she thought the sound was sweet and pretty and sexy.

Just as the girl herself was.

She remembers the girl standing and flushing, then turning to her and smiling, and she remembers smiling back and thinking that she wouldn't mind making love with this girl because she was so adorably pretty. She remembers seeing the girl's blue eyes dart down and then up and felt strangely happy that even another woman, and such a pretty one at that, would find her worth checking out. She remembers she was just about to ask the girl if she wanted to make love with her when both doors slammed open and six or seven men came in. They were laughing and smiling and friendly and they gently coaxed her to leave with them, while the other girl went with some of the others. 

She remembers laying on her back in a bed on that same floor, in another room, feeling the cock of the man on top of her squishing in and out of her cunt. They fucked her one after another, four of them, and then more joined in. Eight, and then nine. They used her pussy and her ass-hole but they weren't harsh or rough. They simply fucked her, came in her and left, and when they were almost through, when the ninth or tenth one was pushing hard and gasping, she noticed that the other girl, the girl from the bathroom, was now there in the room with her, surrounded by another group of horny men. Their eyes met and locked, and then the girl disappeared within a circle of naked men. 

She remembers seeing the girl sucking dicks while she knelt in the middle of that manly ring, the view of her sometimes good, sometimes not. She remembers the man on top of her grunting as he thrust deep into her and when he was done, he pulled out. She remembers how her pussy seemed to burp as air passed out of it, and how the oozing stream of escaping cum never seemed to end. She sat up, looking for any glimpse of the other girl and saw that she was now on hands and knees, servicing one man from behind and one man with her mouth while the others stroked their hard-ons and watched. She remembers thinking how beautiful the girl was doing that; how she seemed to almost glow.

She remembers the girl seeing her from between the forest of thick, muscular legs, and smiling at her, and then watched as the girl tried to get disconnected from the two men who were enjoying her at the moment and stand. They pulled out of her and lifted her to her feet. They carried her to the bed and placed her gently down upon it and then quickly resumed what they were doing.

She remembers moving aside and then slipping off the bed entirely and standing there watching as the pretty girl went on allowing herself to be enjoyed. Six men took her that way, but then another group of men entered the room.

She remembers they saw her standing alone and came to her and began touching her and kissing her. They sucked her nipples, squeezed her tits and did all the things men do. Hands ran down her legs, up her butt, and though she wanted to suck them and feel them inside her, she wanted more to see the other girl. The shape of her body, the loveliness of her face, her legs, shoulders, and her long hair seemed to be like the very breath of fresh air she had escaped the downstairs to find. She couldn't seem to get enough of looking at her.

She remembers her group of men began to take her standing. One got behind her and when she felt the head of his cock touch her cunt, she spread her legs a little. She remembers how easily he sank into her due to all the jiz that was still inside her, but more so from her own sexual wetness she had achieved from watching the other girl. This puzzled her for a moment but then the man was screwing her hard, holding her by the hips, and she began to forget about everything else. Even after all the cocks which had used her, the friction was wonderful, the feeling of being completely packed full of stiff, thick meat. But then the girl came to mind and she looked up and found she was staring directly into the girl's beautiful eyes. She watched those eyes widen as an orgasm filled her and exploded, and at that same moment she felt herself reach some unheard of peak. The orgasm was so strong her bladder let loose. Piss dribbled down onto the carpet. Then she came again, her eyes still locked with the other girl's, and she knew then that it was because it was such a new thing for her - this feeling, these taboo thoughts of another woman.

She remembers how wonderfully degenerate and kinky and incredibly nasty it all felt to be orgasming while looking so deeply into another female's eyes. It was as though they were making love together and the men, the continually thronging group of men were only their servants to this secret pleasure.

She remembers how her entourage finally laid her carefully on the rug and proceeded to take turns balling her until they spewed. She was now unable to see the other girl, but it didn't matter; she had already memorized every one of the girl's features and could see her clearly in her mind. Then man bodies crouched over and covered her one at a time, and they came in her one after the other. Some jerked off over her face and let their jizz splash down. She remembers how some took hold of her feet as the others had done hours before and felt semen spewing between her toes again.

She remembers opening her eyes and realizing the last one had just ejaculated in her and was only now pulling out. She remembers how her pussy contracted, and then she was alone on the floor, turning her head to look at the bed. She remembers seeing only the soles of the girl's pretty feet showing from the edge of the bed, and remembers rolling to her side and getting on her knees. She remembers seeing the girl laying there, spread eagle, her flat chest rising and falling with deep breaths, and she remembers how her eyes found the beautiful place between those limply spread legs. She remembers how the girl's pussy seemed to contract just as her own had just done, and she remembers how she could no longer resist it. She remembers how she got up and crawled to the bed, how she lunged and missed getting up onto it on the first try, and then pulling herself up finally. She remembers the pretty girl raising her head and smiling, and then she remembers how it was when her mouth suddenly moved down to cover the girl's spasming pussy.

She remembers the sounds the girl made as she licked her semen-filled twat and how the orgasms filled her and how those orgasms made her pussy squeeze and how the semen seemed to flow out in a continuous stream. She remembers how her own sex squeezed in excitement at what she was doing, and she remembers the warmth that oozed out and down her thighs.

She remembers how the girl eventually turned and curled toward her, and how they both spent countless, breathless moments enjoying the taste of each other's pussy at the same time. She remembers that they ate each other until there was no man flavor left in either of them and that they didn't even stop then. 

She remembers later, when they were catching their breath; how she simply hugged the girl's crotch to her face, and how the girl did the same to her. 

She remembers how another girl came into the room, saw them, wrinkled her nose in disgust and left, and how she and the girl laughed at this. Then she remembers how she could not resist how beautiful the girl was, as if seeing her again for the first time, and she remembers turning and kissing the girl straight on the mouth. She remembers how the warmth and energy and desire built up inside her and how she suddenly reached down and got her finger in the girl's cunt. She remembers how it was to kiss the girl's beautiful mouth while she finger-fucked her and made her orgasm. She remembers how it felt when the girl moaned directly into her mouth, and how the sound, the vibration made her come too. She remembers wanting, no, needing more direct contact, more intimate touch and how she pulled back and got her legs entwined with the girl's and how she pushed and shoved her pussy against the girl's, and how the girl responded by pushing back. She remembers how it felt to have her bare, swollen cunt slipping and sliding back and forth against the girl's equally aroused sex, remembers that she could actually feel the girl's rigid clit slipping against her, and remembers the first orgasm they shared, for it was at the same exact moment.

She remembers thinking that this was really the ultimate thing two women could do and remembers smiling to herself when she compared it to having a big, thick cock jamming in and out of her. Then she remembers a hot flood drenching her pussy, and remembers taking a breath and letting her next orgasm completely take her over. She remembers letting her pee escape when and how it wanted, and remembers how she and the girl simply pissed their bladders dry as they went on rubbing themselves together. She remembers the smells, the sounds, the touching and feeling, remembers the thoughts and sights, the way the girl's beautiful long leg stuck up in the air until she captured it and pulled it down for a kiss, and she remembers how the girl took hold of her leg in turn and kissed her ankle.

She remembers how violent the climaxes were. She remembers it felt like her insides were rending in two, that her cunt would rip open and explode, and then remembered the trilling, the almost throbbing feeling as her pussy contracted and clenched. She remembers the girl rolling out of their passionate leg-lock and straddling her, pee still dribbling out of her, and how that wetness ran down her belly. She remembers the girl walking up on her knees until her pussy was right over her chest and peeing on her tits. She remembers how she pulled the girl down on top of her, chest to chest, and how they massaged each other's tits using the girl's urine as a secret, special liniment.

She remembers how excitedly they kissed, and how it felt to have the girl's weight pressing down on her, how it felt to have hard nipples rubbing against her chest, and then remembers how her legs seemed to come up and spread outward all on their own, and how the girl rammed her crotch into her now-spread cunt.

She remembers how she came and how the orgasms were made to happen all without anything penetrating her cunt. She remembers how sweaty the girl looked, how mussed and unkempt, and how totally beautiful and sexy all of that made her appear. She remembers there was that same glow to her face, her neck, her shoulders, and she remembers wrapping her legs around the girl's slim sides, using her heels to urge the thrusts down and against her even harder than they were.

She remembers the men who came in and interrupted them. She remembers the girl being pulled up and turned over and how the two of them, laying side by side across the bed were fucked by over a dozen quite drunk and happy men. She remembers reaching out and holding the girl's hand while this was all going on, and remembers that there was more pleasure and peace in that single touch than the huge, thick, thrusting things that were repeatedly inserted between her legs. She remembers how the both of them were turned over onto hands and knees and how they both serviced the men, mouth and cunt or mouth and ass, until they were all through with them, and when they had gone, she remembers glancing at the girl and seeing a smile, and hearing her say, "Well, I guess we have to clean each other out again!" and remembers laughing and then falling into serious silence when she realized she could not now think of anything else she would rather do in the entire world.

She remembers pouncing on the laughing girl, shoving her legs open roughly and burying her mouth on the girl's creamy snatch, and remembers sucking semen out of it, using her tongue to plunge it out, and then just letting it drip off onto the bed; not wanting or needing to taste it any longer. She remembers how the girl writhed in ecstasy on the bed, remembers how beautiful she was, and how uninhibited, remembers receiving a short squirt of pee in her face, and laughing about it before going back to work.

She remembers she ate the girl out until the girl could barely move, and then pausing to kneel there looking at her, appreciating her body, her face. She remembers kissing the girl's mouth and then continuing the kiss all down the front of her body, down both legs and arms, and finally kissing her feet, and she remembers how the girl gasped and tried to jerk her feet away. She remembers holding those pretty feet firmly in her hands and kissing and then sucking their toes, and she remembers how the girl squirmed and begged her to stop and how she refused. She remembers how devilish she felt, how she enjoyed torturing the girl with pleasure, and then realized that the girl's first toe would fit nicely in another hole she had.

She remembers getting up and straddling the girl's left foot and pressing down on it with her cunt. She remembers how the girl wriggled and moved that toe until it finally slipped up inside her. She remembers the shiver that went through her and up her spine and she remembers rising up and pushing down again. She remembers how sexy it felt, how odd and wonderful, to have the girl's toe in her cunt, and then started to hump up and down on that rigid thing until she attained satisfaction.

She remembers it took quite awhile to attain it because of how arousing the whole thing - the whole idea - was.

She remembers how the girl eventually recovered enough to use her other foot to push her backward, and remembers how quickly and easily and gently the girl slipped her own first toe into her cunt. She remembers how the two of them lay there, using just their toes to bring each other off, and knew that if it went on forever, she would not mind.

She remembers how, afterward, the two of them kissed and licked each other's ankles and shins and knees and thighs and how they eventually gave each other baths with just their tongues. She remembers trying to hold still while the girl licked her shoulder and lower back and realizing she was about to orgasm just like that. She remembers how the two of them made love through the night and didn't stop until almost dawn, and how they crept downstairs through the masses of coiled and snuggled sleeping bodies, and how they got their clothes on and stepped out into the early morning air.




Remembrance



She remembers their first meal together was at McDonald's and that she was famished and had two breakfast sandwiches, a large fries, two coffees and two apple pies, while the girl simply buried her face in a Big Mac and Filet o' Fish and two coffees with cream and sugar, and how, while watching her stuff some fallen out lettuce into her mouth, she realized she loved the girl more than anyone she had ever known.

She remembers how they strolled slowly together across the deserted campus so early in the morning and how the breeze came up under her skirt and made her realize she had a wet spot in her panties from some of the things she'd been thinking and remembering about the girl. She remembers wanting to take her right then and there in the middle of the walkway, just lifting her skirt and licking her, but that she somehow knew there was no need to rush.

She remembers how they made love in her dorm room for almost ten hours that Sunday morning, and how their passion for each other never seemed to fade even after hours and days and weeks and months of being together. 

She remembers all these things in the moment the girl, now 47 years old, steps out of the shower all fresh and sweet-smelling and beautiful, and drops her towel. She remembers all the old things and knows they are the same things, even after all these years.

END



Remembrance



On a warm, humid, Midwest, summer night a little breeze stirred just enough air to allow the elderly couple to spend the final hours of the day on the veranda. They shuffled out, sinking into opposite ends of the chaise. It was so hot this summer. The heat slowed them, melted their rations of energy. No words passed between them; none were needed. The woman surveyed the sunset, marking day's end. Alone in her thoughts, she thought to herself, "The sun is setting on our days, too." She accepted it; their life had been a full one. Sixty years together, children, grandchildren, a successful business passed on to their sons. 

"Life is so short," she mused, "but we made the most of it." 

Her introspection was broken by a low rhythmic sound contrasting with the crickets' chirping a few yards away in the grass. She knew, without looking, that it was George sleeping. She looked anyway and gazed upon him.

"Poor George," she sighed, "he was always so fit and strong. Look at him now."

Recent years had taken their toll on him. The prostate cancer had been the worst of it. She couldn't know, but sensed, that his days were numbered in the scores, not hundreds. Then, her turn couldn't be far off. 

"Oh, stop!" She chided herself. Self-pity had never been their refuge. "When one takes a partner for life, there is a beginning, middle, and an end." 

She wiped a trickle of perspiration from her brow, reminded of the warmth of the season. She resumed her thoughts, traveling back in time to another hot summer night. A calendar would mark it a past tense memory of long ago. In her mind's eye, she was in the present. It was a story that she pulled often from the secret shelves of her memory. It always stirred her. 

************* 

It was 1946 in a small city in Iowa. Helen and George had just been married that afternoon. The wedding had been long-postponed. They planned to wed in June 1942 after their graduation. A romance had blossomed in their senior year at the University. He would graduate in Civil Engineering; she in Library Science. He would probably work for the State Highway Department, she in the local schools. They would have a family and be happy.

Everyone who knew them considered Helen and George a good match. Both were children of farmers, used to hard work and hard times. They had been teenagers in the dustbowl—not much chance for fun. Their parents saw to it that their hard life did not embitter them. They looked forward to better times, with their training at the University punching their tickets.

George was a lanky young man, reserved and steady. His math skills and hard work made him excel in his courses. He might have appeared bookish, but his lean frame betrayed a wiry musculature that surprised many. He never smoked, only took an occasional drink with friends. In every way, he was a straight arrow. George was a quiet young man but whenever he did speak, he meant each well considered word. Those who didn't know him thought he was gruff. His close circle knew better. 

Helen grew up on a farm in the same county as the one that George's family owned. Even as a girl, she pitched in with the farm chores. She developed a strong frame in her growing years, but one would never know it. It lay beneath a trim figure and a feminine smoothness. She stood about five-six; topped by wavy honey blonde hair she kept shoulder-length. Many college boys' neck craned to ogle her cute behind as she passed by them, but whatever they might have seen was created in their imaginations. 

Helen did not tease, nor flaunt. Her femininity needed none of the weak reinforcement that flirting could bring her. Teasing was good only good for prompting action, and she desired none from those that ogled her. If ever a time came when provocation was in order, she would tease well-enough at her choosing. She kept her figure neatly covered in the practical a-line skirts that she usually wore that were popular in that day. Helen's chosen field of Library Science belied her personality. She was precocious and friendly, filled with energy. But, she did not suffer fools easily. She had a pretty face. Her smile was infectious; everyone liked her. She was like George in one respect; she was the female equivalent of the straight arrow. That was the norm in the days before the war.

When Helen and George met, they soon knew they had found their future mate. Her vivaciousness balanced his quiet demeanor. She helped him to put aside his shyness. Helen craved George's steadiness, reliability and the respect and trust that he earned from others. She was always proud to be with him. She found that he was kind and gentle. It was easy for George to be kind to Helen, he loved her. 

A phone call on December 8 thrust a new, unwelcome chapter into their storybook. His Navy ROTC unit was to report in a week's time for duty in San Diego. He would complete his engineering degree there, then duty in the Pacific in the Seabees.

"Let's just elope now, while we have the chance," Helen pleaded. She loved him, and her body ached for him. They had delayed the act of consummation until after the wedding. They had not actually gone much further than passion-filled kissing. In the 1940's the shame of unmarried pregnancy, single-sex dorms with vigilant house mothers, the difficulty of finding a private place—sex before marriage was just not common in Midwest America in 1941. On December 6, they contemplated only six short months to wait to hold one another. They were a conventional couple and waiting the right thing to do. The following day, their expectations turned upside-down.

"You know that I love you, but it wouldn't be right," he replied. "Who knows what will happen to me? A widow with a baby would have a tough life".

George was always the wise one, the planner. Helen sadly agreed. George had steadied them, but he took comfort in her impulsive suggestion because it reassured him that she would wait for his return. He went to San Diego with his unit. Helen finished her degree and returned home. She got a job at the Public Library; she waited.

Through those long war years Helen longed for George. She waited for his letters, faded and out of date, little holes carved into them by military censors. Each day that the Western Union man did not deliver that dreaded telegram brought her a sigh of relief. She knew that they were right to wait, but the aching in her heart and body wouldn't fade. She never doubted that George would be as faithful as she, and so he was. The end of the war did not bring the end to George's military service. Finally, he was mustered out in June 1946. 

For Helen, those final months of waiting were some of the loneliest. Other soldiers and sailors were returning home. It added a nasty sting to their separation. It was unfair. George had been one of the first to go off to war, but his skills were needed in reconstruction. She was grateful that he was out of danger. Her woman's body kept reminding her that she was now twenty-six years old and longed for that ultimate physical connection. 

She dreamt of him holding her, shameless and naked. He would enter her, taking his pleasure inside her, emptying his essence deep within. At first, her sexual thoughts shamed her, but she came to revel in them, taking solace in her imagined satiation. Her mind's eye pictured his lean body, his square and resolute jaw line set on wide shoulders. She hoped that she would find the desire in him that she felt throbbing deep within herself.

As Helen's friends married, they whispered their sexual secrets in their coffee groups. They spoke of passion and pain. They recounted the breaking of their inner bodies to please their men, the later pleasures. All this inflamed Helen. She struggled to stop listening to them, but she could not. She didn't know how much of the stories were factual, or embellishments. She kept her silence. She only determined to experience it for herself when George returned.

Despite the carnage George witnessed, he remained kind, decent, and a little self-conscious. He earned two purple hearts. He never told Helen; he didn't want to worry her. His experiences had changed him. Still tall and lean, he added muscle to his frame. Any softness that he might have taken with him to the Pacific had long been worn away by jungle deprivations. Command experience added maturity beyond his years. He started the war as an Ensign, finished as Lt. Commander. His years of building landing strips on Pacific Islands had endowed him with confidence and abilities that a classroom could never teach. 

Again a civilian, he craved a relaxation of the hardness and discipline that were necessary in his wartime service, but the ability to fully release would never quite come to him. Still, when he thought of his beloved Helen, he melted like butter in a skillet. She was so good; she had been so patient, so pure. He molded his image of her to a model of perfection, and it buoyed him through his years at war. True, he had placed her on a pedestal. It was a vision that suited him.

************* 

So, on a hot June night in 1946, two young people trod the stairs at the Downtown Hotel in a small Iowa city, to the Honeymoon Suite. He could afford it with his mustering-out pay. The wedding had been hastily arranged—a big affair seemed so anticlimactic after the long war separation and the endless stream of returnees who had preceded George. Helen wore a simple mid-calf white dress with a veil. There was no time to buy a gown. He wore his dress Navy Whites. He had no civilian clothes that would fit him. Helen recruited her brother as Best Man. George had been overseas for a long time and only arrived home the day before. Not many of his friends would ever return from the war. The reception was a dinner in the hotel dining room with their parents, best man and maid of honor.

There was no bellman. They each carried their own suitcase up the two flights of stairs. George unlocked the door and they entered the suite. They set down their luggage and he closed the door. Since the time that their wedding dinner had ended until this moment, no word had passed between them. They embraced, shared a kiss. It was gentle and loving, at first. Then more demanding, searching for the other's passion. Helen cautiously pushed her tongue from between her lips and into his. It startled him. He had not anticipated her initiative, but finally decided that he liked it. She felt him recoil slightly, but when he did not release his embrace, she relaxed further in his arms, kissing him again. 

Finally, they stopped, and he said, "We've waited a long time". It was a statement of the obvious. Yet, true to his manner, George's words were measured and full of meaning. It was an acknowledgment of their mutual ordeal. It was necessary to say it. His referral to it in the past tense signaled a turning of the page. 

"Yes," she murmured, and then kissed him again.

Stepping slightly apart, they looked about the room. On the left was a patio, its door open, with a pleasant breeze wafting in to break the stillness of the hot summer air. Through the open door, they could see the city lights below. An ice bucket stood sweating alongside two matching patio chairs and a small metal table.

"They brought the champagne that I ordered," he said. 

A few yards on the right sat the double bed, already turned down by the maid. George glanced at it, their final destination on this night. It beckoned him, provocative, its white folded down sheets against the dark colored blankets, grinning like big teeth. He looked away, wondering why he had done so. A nervous chill coursed through him. It was their beginning. Finality of their ordeal was the price of commencement. Part of him wanted to cling to their sweet endurance. It had been painful, but shared. It brought constancy and assurance along with agony. It had been such a sweet pain. It had become part of themselves; the tie that bound them together. How to begin, without breaking the bond?

He knew that the page must turn. Must it, however, be riffled over as though in a cheap magazine? His instincts drove him to gently lift the corner, slowly turning the page over, gradually revealing the new text. He groped for time to straighten his thoughts as he searched for the answer. 

He found refuge in the chilling champagne. Pointing to it, he asked, "Would you like to drink some?" 

"Yes...well...later maybe", she replied. He sensed a polite "no".

"Well, what, then?"

Helen thought fast. She was eager to make love, but anxious to preserve her role as the quarry.

Her lips feigned a pout. "I don't know," she coyly replied. "Didn't you become a Commander in the Navy?"

"Yes", he said, puzzling over the meaning.

She leaned into him, pressing him with her body. Her soft lips brushing his earlobe, "then command me," she whispered.

Her answer raised the hair on the back of George's neck. Her passion pleased him, but his loss of control triggered alarms. It was premature. They must pause and savor. Searching for a graceful recovery he caressed her cheek, and then kissed gently. Her pulse quickened. Finally, she believed that the moment had arrived. 

As he finished his kiss she prepared to kiss back, but he broke away and said, "I command you to change into something more comfortable"

She contained an exhale of frustration. "Always the engineer," she thought. "He's got a blueprint for everything" 

Still, it was progress. The ship would dock at the appointed 'destination', headwinds were slowing the tack. She took solace in the meted out advance and reached for her small suitcase.

"Good idea," she said, recovering. "You have some champagne while I freshen up." With that, she disappeared with her suitcase into the bathroom and locked the door.

George watched her close the door. He was relieved that the process had slowed a bit. He wanted her, sure enough. He was just afraid to rush things. This would be their one and only wedding night, he reasoned. No part of it would be glossed over or unappreciated. 

After all, he also was a virgin, just as Helen. He hoped that he could do his man's duty. Would she expect too much from him? Would he disappoint her? Would he hurt her in breaking her maidenhead? Would she understand the importance of this night to him? As he thought of these things he was barely aware that he had begun to remove his dress-white uniform. He hung it in the closet and removed the rest of his clothes. He jumped into a pair of pajama pants from his suitcase and put them on, tying the drawstring at the waist. He thought about his robe, but it was too hot. He would forgo the pajama tops, too. 

The coldness of the tiled floor on the patio felt good on his bare feet. His manhood was hardening. He was determined to stave off the urgency that nature had visited upon him so soon. He poured himself a glass of champagne and quickly downed it. He poured another and started drinking it more slowly. The bracing alcohol felt good. When Helen emerged things would go faster, he told himself. A quick toast of champagne then let nature take its course. He was grown man—up to the challenge. Helen needed him. He would come through for her. 

"What was she doing in there, anyway?" His mood suddenly became insistent.

*************** 

In the bathroom Helen found the long ivory gown that she had bought and saved for her honeymoon. She removed her clothes and reached for the negligee, but stopped. Standing nude in front of the mirror she inspected her form, shaped firm and slender by years of hard work on her family farm. The firmness was underneath; the outside covered in a feminine softness. 

Her eyes drifted lower. Her breasts lay naturally on her chest. They were round, average in size, fitting her medium frame. The tips were crowned with small nipples that now were hardening and enlarging with her excitement. She glanced lower. Her belly and navel narrowed and formed a path to the center of her. A soft triangle of honey-colored down broke the skin's creamy smoothness. It was only a little darker than her wavy tresses. It pointed to her womanhood, now glistening with the moisture that betrayed her eagerness. 

She paused for a long pause look at herself. She wished to remember these final virgin moments. It would be the last time that her eyes, alone, would know this sight. In the morning, her new husband would know it, too. In her desire, she had never considered this finality. Her virginity had been her preparation. Soon, all would be opened, no pretexts needed. She wondered how she might be changed and how George would respond after crossing the final barrier.

She halted her musings and slipped the gown over her head. It was a shiny satin material. The thin shoulder straps held up a lace bodice that cradled her firm virgin's breasts. The lace formed in a deep vee that started at the end of the tiny strap just above the top of each breast and ended at a point several inches below them, halfway to her navel. The cleavage revealed was ample, but demure. It was enough to announce and entice, a treat for the eye, while protecting the essence from exposure. The lacey fabric allowed a hint of the brown circle of areolas. The pointed nipples pushed at the fabric, leaving no doubt as to their hiding place. 

The long gown slid down her body and hugged her form, punctuating her firm lines, her hips, and well-formed cheeks. It was slit from the floor to mid-thigh on her left side. The slit did not show as she stood. Each step revealed an enticing flash of creamy thigh that would too quickly disappear. It riveted a man's eye to it, creating an expectation of the next step and ensuing flash of forbidden flesh. At least that was Helen's thinking when she bought the gown. She spent many hours selecting it. The search served to provide her with small doses of excitement as she envisioned the first time that she would "be with" George. 

Preparation for the night had served to temporarily quench her thirst, but it deepened it in the long run, and driven her aggressive prodding earlier. It was good that George had delayed her ardor a few minutes before, or the prized negligee would have remained forgotten in her suitcase.

"What had she forgotten?" She spied the matching furry high-heeled slippers that a friend had urged on her, insisting that they were sexy. She decided that they were not, and would go without them. She stood in her bare feet and the coldness of the tile floor felt sensual and good. She liked the naturalness of it. She desired no contrivances.

She realized her preparations were at an end. The time had come for her to emerge from the bathroom-refuge to present herself to her new husband and soon-to-be lover. Suddenly, she froze in nervous trepidation. After such a long time in waiting, the planning and dreaming, the prodding of her recalcitrant groom, she was at once trembling and short of breath. She knew that she should bolt out the door to commence that which she so long had yearned for. She could not. She stared at the door handle. It dared her to seize it and run to her desires. How could she refuse the call? She thought frantically for a few moments' reprieve.

"Her hair-- it was a mess." She grabbed her brush and assaulted her wavy tresses. Her breathing quickened more. It aggravated her that her locks fell so quickly into place. She must not rush this! As she continued to brush, she realized her grooming was only a play for time. She felt the inner surge of her racing pulse. Her nipples now engorged to capacity, ached from their stiffness. She raised a hand to relieve them. She stopped herself, saving that pleasant task for him. She clenched her buttocks cheeks, squeezing her thighs together. Her woman's essence bathed her inner self. She had never felt it so moist and slippery. It issued a musky scent. She knew the purpose of this wetness. She set down the hairbrush and exhaled loudly.




Remembrance



"Get a hold of yourself! It's time to go," she said to herself. She dotted a small dab of perfume behind each ear. She thrust out her hand, taking hold of the door handle.

************ 

On the patio, George was becoming more and more restless. He thought that he had gained control of events. His play for time only served to banish his quarry behind the locked bathroom door. All possible initiative had now vanished. Only the turning of the handle of the bathroom door, unseen, from the other side, would signal the restart of the evening's events.

He regretted his Pyrrhic victory; he craved action. Her coyness in prolonging the waiting in the bathroom was merciless. He had yet to learn the lesson of the bathroom as the female bastion. He drained the last of the champagne in his glass. He poured himself another, but decided he didn't want it. He stood up to pace, but sat back down, lest Helen suddenly emerge to the betrayal of his anxiety. 

He pictured her beyond that bathroom door. She would be disrobing. He pictured her nakedness. He had never seen her without clothes. His mind's eye painted a picture of her. She would be beautiful; he knew it. He would not deserve her. He started to shake. His inner vision of her pure nakedness made him harden under his pajama bottoms. A droplet of slippery liquid emerged from the tip of his penis. He worried that his fantasy might spur a premature response. He must calm himself. 

"Was she nervous, too?" She hadn't seemed very nervous a few moments before. How could a woman so innocent and inexperienced so deftly ploy the feminine wiles as she had done? Probably, her already-married friends had schooled her. He worried that her knowledge overreached his. Perhaps she was trying to deal with her anxiety through aggressiveness. That would be typical of Helen. He glanced around the room in search of a task to absorb his nervous energy.

"The lights!" They were too bright. He stood and hopped about the room dimming it to a romantic dusk. He had to hurry ahead of her reentrance from her bathroom lair. It wasn't easy to move quickly with his hardened manhood pointing the way through his pajamas. He dodged chairs, beds and footstools, groping for switches. His task completed, he returned to his chair on the patio, but Helen remained in place beyond the bathroom door. 

George's anxiousness returned. He convinced himself to remain seated on the patio until Helen decided to emerge and sit alongside him. He made a plan. He would sit calmly there, waiting for her to take her place alongside him. He turned her chair slightly, so as to leave no ambiguity about his wishes. He would casually offer her a glass of champagne. He would not be over-eager. She would be impressed by his savoir-faire. He remembered her insistence that he assume command. He was determined to do so. It was a good plan, but he wondered why his nervousness would not abate. The raging hardness in his groin intruded on his consciousness, maintaining the telltale tent in the front of his pajamas. He became more impatient. "What was she doing in there?" 

************** 

A loud click-click from the bathroom door froze him. For a second, his heart ceased beating. George cast aside his well-made plan of suavity. He jumped out of his chair and took two quick strides toward the bathroom door and then stopped himself. He stood silently waiting for the door to open. His pulse raced. He felt his breathing quicken. All day and night he had fought to control his ardor. He could do so no longer. George needed a new plan. In the pregnant moments that turn seconds to hours, he made one. He would shed all pretenses. The cloak wrapped around his emotions would be sundered.

Here, at last, was the culmination of his most cherished dream. It had sustained him, his secret companion. It had distracted him during his long trips at sea; nourished him on steamy Pacific islands; comforted him at the sight of dead and wounded comrades. The dream had been Helen. In it, she was sometimes a wife, or mother. Mostly it was Helen as his lover, waiting for him, desiring him, dreaming of him as he dreamt of her. Sometimes he saw her face, eyes glistening with joy at the sight of him safely home. At times he would see her distant form, waving excitedly to him as he returned to her. Once in a while, he pictured her nude, lying on a bed, her arms reaching for him. 

The dream spoke to him. "Release me. I must go now; you don't need me. Seize reality as it stands before." 

At that instant, the dream left him and George realized that he was no longer alone in life. He wondered how much life would mirror the dream. What unimagined circumstances would color their lives? He cast doubts aside. His life with Helen was meant to be. It was real and good. It was time to start. He had jumped over the barrier between hope and action, dream and reality. In the most important way he was no longer a virgin.

************* 

The bathroom door slowly opened. Its light pierced the semi-darkness. The shaft of illumination isolated their space from the universe. Helen, with tiny steps, emerged into the open. The brightness framed her as she stood silently and motionless on display. George beheld the sight.

Her hair, which she left undone, cascaded around her shoulders. Her countenance was serene, and her eyes looked straight into his. They glistened a little bit, perhaps with passion, or maybe emotion. 

Her shoulders and arms were bare except for the tiny straps that held up the lace bodice of her gown. Her delicate features were displayed; they were perfect, as if carved in white marble. Below, the lace bodice cradled her breasts as they hung naturally beneath her shoulders. As the line of the bodice plunged to her middle, it revealed the upper portion of them. They were round, but not pushed up. Her slender waist trailed down from the bodice and ended with the flare of her hips. The gown hugged them and outlined their feminine details. It draped from them like a waterfall to the floor. The flowing of it accentuated her virginal slenderness. Her bare feet, just visible under the hem, added a tone of earthiness to the otherwise classic scene. It was a lovely vision.

George's eyes feasted on the sight before him. At first, they devoured the picture in its entirety. They found a young woman, eager for her lover. She had a nubile quality, coupled strangely with a virginal innocence. Then his eyes moved to each perfect part which he savored in its turn. His eyes lingered at the outlines of hardened nipples that announced her excitement. She watched George's eyes engulf them. It did not shame her. 

He would have liked to continue his grateful inspection, but it occurred to George that he must respond to the presentation. He searched for eloquence, but found no words adequate for his purpose. He struggled and groped for them. Finally, he exhaled a muffled "Oh, my!"

Helen's brow furled with concern. She whispered at him, puzzled and insistent, "What?"

"Helen, you can't know how beautiful you are right now! I don't know whether I want you to stand there as you are, or to peel that gown away." Helen smiled, and he knew that his words had pleased her.

Without speaking she stepped forward and leaned into him. Standing on her toes, she cast up her face, her lips brushing his. He congratulated himself. He had selected the right words. They had reassured her. George softened himself for her kiss that he expected in gratitude for his compliment. 

"I think that I know the answer," she whispered.

With that, she tugged the drawstring of the pajamas to untie them. There was no kiss, but a pulling of the waist band over his erection. George stood without moving and allowed the loosened pajamas to fall in a heap at his feet. She moved backward half-dozen tiny steps. 

He felt a coolness on his lower body as the pajama trousers fell off him. He started to shiver slightly, but not from the cold. Her aggression stirred him. He had passed control to her yet again, but this time his instincts drove him to revel rather than resist. He opened his senses. He wanted to feel all of it, to be swept into her current, riding all the way from the source, through the rapids, over waterfalls, finishing in the delta mouth.

Helen watched the pajamas fall down George's lower body. She gazed for a moment at him, hard and aiming straight at her. She spied a drip of clear fluid oozing from the tip, reminding her of her own moistness. Before George could speak, she slowly lifted her right hand to the tiny strap on the left shoulder of her negligee. Slipping her thumb under it, she pushed the string just slightly so that it tripped down her shoulder onto her bare arm. A little more roundness of her breast emerged, but the strap on the right kept the gown from falling.

George stood, naked, staring, and frozen in place. He could only watch and wait. Two more drips emerged from his hardened penis. The breeze drifting through the open patio door cooled the liquid. He did not care. He bathed in the sensation of it. 

Helen gave him a few seconds to appreciate the small, yet provocative, revelation. She saw his dripping erection and listened to his hurried breath. She formed a faint smile and hooked her thumb under the remaining strap and pushed it over her shoulder to match the first. 

George gasped with anticipation, expecting the negligee to fall for a sudden revelation of the treasures beneath it. The gown, however, remained in place, held by her crossed arms. He puzzled, yearned for more, naked. His pajamas lay crumpled at his feet. His penis was dripping again on them.

Helen looked directly into George's gaze, crossed arms holding up the bodice of her gown. The mysterious smile remained. It was playful, challenging, passionate, insistent, knowing. She watched him pant with growing desire. 

Slowly Helen relaxed her arms loosely to her sides. The gown, which had been so nobly served her beauty, clung for the moment, the lace temporarily impaled on her hardened nipples. She flexed her shoulders slightly, initiating the gown's cascade. It fell to her waist, revealing her breasts. It paused at her hips. She stood for a second like the Venus, bare to the waist. George remained transfixed. She drew in her belly and her round cheeks. The gown fell away to the floor. She remained motionless, unveiled to him.

His eyes traveled to her rounded breasts, tipped with the hardened rosebuds, downward to the flare of her hips, and finally to the moistened triangle pointing to her woman's interior. He saw the glistening moisture that told him of her body's response that mirrored his in the donation of their slippery ointments.

At last their eyes met and locked together. He groped for words. He would not flatter or cliché. Only truth would suffice. How to capture his surging emotions? He pushed out the words, "Helen, you are beautiful. I love you. I want you."

The giving up of virginity is the crossing of many barriers. In her unveiling she stepped across the most important of all, revealing that which only her eyes had beheld. Now, the hymen was unneeded, a superfluous dam, serving only to block their physical union. They had already surmounted the higher peak. She had neither fear nor reluctance of the hymen's piercing.

As she stood silently exalting in her nakedness, looking into the eyes of her naked husband, she said calmly, in a clear voice, "George, if you desire what you see, then come and take it. It is mine to give. I give it to you. It is yours."

************ 

They strode to each other, arms extended, melding into an embrace. He kissed her lips tenderly; she responded in kind. He kissed her again. She slipped her tongue between his lips, probing. He gave back, and then bent lower. He stroked his lips over her neck and throat. Her senses thrilled. He caressed her bare back, around her shoulders, at first, then drifting lower to the small of her back. She relaxed every muscle, letting every new stimulus reach into her totally. She let her senses fill, holding back no reserve. She opened her legs slightly, feeling the air refresh it. Her sweetness oozed more fluid. 

George reached down further from the small of her back and stretched his powerful hand around her perfect cheek. He felt her involuntary clench, continued to hold it, then appreciated the firmness underneath its smooth covering. He pulled her center against him. She spread her legs a little more. Instinctively, she rested her mound against his muscular thigh. She leaned against it, discovering the first traces of a new pleasure as she gently rubbed it against him.

She felt his hardness pressing against her belly. She leaned her body back a little and her small hand circled the shaft. He gasped in the sudden warm pleasure. A slippery fluid leaked from him onto her hand. She wanted it on her and wiped it on her flank. She tilted her head upward for another kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck. George reached down and caressed the soft down of her mound. Then he probed lower. His fingers found her slit, filled with her wetness. He gently probed deeper. 

Under her breath, Helen murmured a quiet "hmmm" as she responded to yet another new pleasure. She leaned into him, drawing his finger in further. "Ohhh", she breathed, as she learned how her actions could deepen her pleasure. She rocked slightly and sighed again as her body responded even more intensely. 

She reached again for George's penis, determined to make his pleasure match hers. Helen's rocking continued as she stroked and caressed his member until his low-pitched groans let her know that his gratification, too, was mounting. He reached with his free hand to gently hold her breast. He bent his head lower and kissed it, then rubbed his thumb against the hardened nipple. A tiny squeal of delight escaped as she absorbed yet another new sensation.

They lost awareness of all except their bodies responding to newly-welcomed pleasures. They could continue for hours. It was so new, so exquisite, how could one stop? George felt urgency emerging inside him. He knew the meaning and he thought of the double bed with the turned down covers across the room. 

He glanced down at his bride, lost in her throes, rocking herself against his thigh, holding his erection. He kissed her once more. He released her breast and her buttock. He swept her up, cradling her effortlessly. He felt her wetness on his thigh and relished it. They gazed at one another with a knowing look of agreement as he carried her to the bed and laid her gently on it.

Her head rested on the pillow, her hair forming a halo about her face. She smiled serenely at him. He looked down at her, taking pleasure in her beauty. She bent her legs at the knees, and then spread her thighs open in preparation for him. Her eyes widened in anticipation. He felt a surge of lust sweep though him in response to the invitation. She stretched out her arms reaching to him. Her tongue grazed over her lips waiting to taste him. Her welcome re-stirred his love for her. Feeling beauty, lust and love altogether, he climbed onto the bed and between her legs. His manhood pointed to her opening, not yet upon it. He knelt over her, his arms supporting them. He bent down, planting kisses around her breasts, then her nipples. Feeling the hardness, he suckled; she moaned in delight. 

The perfume that she had dabbed behind each ear now fumed with the heat of her body. The scent aroused him further as it mixed with the musk she emitted below. He shifted forward, face to face with her. He hovered above her, his weight supported on his locked arms, hands planted on either side of her. She threaded her arms underneath his outstretched ones, placing her hands on each shoulder blade, embracing him. They kissed, long and slow, all eyes open. She thrilled to his powerful physique. Inching forward, he touched her essence with his own. The contact point was wet and warm. 

He eased ahead slightly more, feeling the mushroom head slip just inside her labia. It was warm, full of a pleasure that he had never known. He steeled himself to stave off an eruption. She felt him inside her lips, so close to her barrier. It was a new sense of fullness. A trace of pleasure whispered to her as his gentle pressing caressed her clitoris.

George eased forward a little more, now engaging her hymen. She drew a breath at the pressure; he backed off. He pressed ahead gently again, then repeated his retreat. With each movement, Helen's new-found pleasure intensified. Each tiny trip to and from the barrier engendered a yen for its repeat. Desire accumulated. She felt a building sensation that she sensed would eventually overfill her vessel.

George sensed her pleasure, and delighted in it. Thus distracted, his urge to pour forth abated. His gentle in and out rocking had more purpose than the bestowal of sensual gifts. As he bumped against her maidenhead, he searched for a way to gently bypass it, so that he could explore beyond. It puzzled him. He refused to crudely surge ahead, to roughly puncture her to sate his carnal appetite. He wouldn't allow her to be broken; rather she would be opened. To do otherwise would have violated the tenderness with which he regarded her.

Through the haze of intensifying pleasure, Helen sensed his reluctance. The pleasure of him, softly caressing her clitoris, in and out, was easing her into a rapture that she was hesitant to surrender. But this sweetness delayed the completion of their union, now nearly accomplished. How to embolden him without hurting his feelings? As she searched for a solution his partial penetration continued to work on her. She gladly accepted a slight delay, savoring the sensations continuing to inundate her.

Helen moaned in pleasure, hooking her feet behind George's knees. It reassured him that he was pleasing her. The new feeling of her feet on the backs of his legs was a welcome new contact point. Her tender thighs brushed his flanks. As George started a new mini-push into her opening, Helen resummoned her boldness. With an equally gentle upward thrust she met his advance. George moaned his approval as he perceived her endeavor to share back her pleasure. He started a new push ahead, and she re-responded ("one")-her senses bulged with pleasure; another push, a gentle push back ("two"); she found that each quenching surge spawned a thirst for the next. Her anticipation peaked every nerve ending. George started anew expecting his bride's tender reply; but ("three") Helen overtook him in one motion. Locking her ankles more tightly around him, she thrust her pelvis sharply upward. She felt the rupture, his manhood sliding through her.

****************** 

She held him tightly, halting any immediate movements. Since the tiny steps forward from the bathroom door, much had now transpired. She drank in all that her senses spilled into her cup. Helen felt the soft skin of George's sack resting against her bottom. She formed a satisfied smile at the completed journey. She assessed the fullness inside that stretched her vagina, more than she would have imagined. It throbbed. She accepted the endurable pain. It was good pain, like an athlete's soreness at the start of a season's training. Her mind's eye formed an image of George's rigid shaft waiting within her, pointing at her womb. She imagined that she felt its pulse, tapping its feet like an impatient suitor. She wanted to hold it, squeeze it, cradle it, rock it, bathe it in her woman's ointments. She required no hands do so. She now possessed her new-found means, better suited to the task, opened for her by her new husband. At each future coupling, she determined, would be a chance to learn to do so more perfectly.

She cast her eyes up and found George looking down softly at her. "Just hold still for a minute, George, so that I can get used to you." Lying there, she borrowed more time to savor her new condition. She felt her breasts crushed under his chest as her arms grasped him to her. Her hands wandered over his strong masculine frame resting atop her. It all served as a reminder, along with the fullness now stretching her, of the differences between their bodies. 




Remembrance



As the throbbing subsided, she cautiously pressed her pelvis upward, then released back down. Feeling little pain she softly thrust up again, George sensed the signal to resume. He raised himself up again on his locked arms. Her breasts, uncrushed, regained their form, rosebuds re-stiffened. He withdrew nearly completely, then re-thrust slowly, strongly, deliberately the complete distance into her until his scrotum once again kissed her. She relished the power with which he stroked her. Helen spread more to widen herself. He sensed the invitation and repeated his slow near withdrawal and powerful forward thrust. As he did so his chest smoothed against the softness of her breasts, grazing her re-hardened nipples. She breathed harder, saying nothing, responding to him with thrusts of her own. His alerted senses pushed energy into him. The loving was completed, he was freed to lust. Helen reveled in the primal drive that her body awakened in him. 

The scene repeated, gathering rhythm and tempo that fed itself. Finally, George thrust forward and held his position for a long second. Crying out in exaltation, his fountain poured into her. 

************* 

Helen lay still as George's breathing slowed. She basked in awareness of his seed pooling inside her. Silently, she wished for impregnation. She knew better, for she had timed her cycle, but enjoyed the thought of it.

George softened and dismounted her, and they lay on their sides embracing. His semen began to leak from her, and his now flaccid penis rested on her thigh spreading a slippery mixture of their fluids. She made no effort to clean herself, nor did she desire to. It was the product of their successful joining. She would preserve it as long as she could.

"I love you, Helen," he said aloud and unashamed. 

She kissed him lightly. "George, you make me so happy."

Further words were unnecessary. They lay embraced together with their thoughts, sated, cementing what had just transpired between them irrevocably in their memories. Nothing more broke the silence, except for their breathing as they slept naked and uncovered in the arms of the other.

************** 

Thus, two people united themselves on a hot summer's night in 1946. There would be many more sessions of lovemaking in their future, some more artful and sensuous than this initiation. Yet, when they turned to their memories for comfort, this first time would always come forward. 

There would be many joys and some sorrows waiting for them. The birth of four children brought happiness. The oldest died in infancy, and they buttressed one another in their anguish. 

Helen and George were life partners. She would challenge and prod him to success, just as she had on that first night. He loved her for it. George found a job in the State Highway Department. After a few years he tired of working under lesser men. With her encouragement, he started his own road construction company. Helen worked as bookkeeper in the beginning. His new company was born just in time to help push the Eisenhower Interstate Highway System through the Midwest. When he turned sixty-five, in 1985 he retired, turning the keys over to his two sons. They grew the business even more. Helen and George were proud of them, and of their daughter who became the Head Librarian at the University.

Their children formed happy marriages, surprising no one. The acorn falls not far from the oak.

************* 

On the veranda Helen emerged from her evening reverie, distracted by the sleeping George on the opposite end of the chaise. She carefully refolded her precious memories and replaced them in the safe corner of her mind where she guarded them. She was opening this scrapbook book more often in recent days. It pleased her, but could not understand how recent and fresh it all seemed, though it had all taken place sixty years before.

Perhaps the answer is that when two people create a couple their lives merge into a totality and the experiences imparted one to the other. Life flourishes simultaneously in the past, and future. The present is the ephemeral link between the two life tenses. Hopes of yesteryear lead to the exaltations of tomorrow, yet yesteryear remains a reality. Vitality of the past is not erased by today's infirmities. In the universe, energy can be neither created nor consumed.

Helen turned her glance to her dozing groom. Through the wrinkles she detected the resolute line of his jaw. She pushed her tongue out over her dry lips to wet them. Her eyes glistened. She liked what she saw.

THE END 

*

Dear Readers,

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed the story. I also wrote a sequel, "Renewal", filed in the Romance Category.

I welcome your comments and questions, either in the Public Section, or in the private e-mail facility offered by this website. 

If you give your address, I'll be sure to respond to your comments or questions.



Remembrance and Hope



There was dead silence as the announcement came over the intercom. 

"This is your Captain speaking. The official remembrance of Earth Day begins now. The next twelve hours should be spent in reflection of what has been lost."

We had all been waiting for it. Every year we gathered in small groups throughout the ship to listen, to mourn. If you chose, you could look up the history of Earth Day in the ships database, it was once a very different holiday. Once it was a celebration of nature, a celebration of people of all nations coming together with the goal of preserving our original home, the planet Earth. 

Now, the first 12 hours are a time of mourning, of remembrance of what we lost. It turns out that the good work done by the environmentalists didn't amount to much. They saved the planet from humans, pollution was a thing of the past by 2094, Global Warming had been addressed and several solutions were making progress but in the end, none of that mattered at all. They were unable to save the planet from non-humans.

If it hadn't been for some very forward thinking people, one of my ancestors among them, humanity would be extinct. A multinational group of people, many of them the richest people on the planet, got together and started funding a colonization initiative. They were frustrated at the direction things were going on Earth and were worried enough to believe that the answer to Earths problems was to move to a planet whose resources were not running out, a place to start over. Even after the tide had turned on Global Warming they continued, fearing that overpopulation would bring the problem back before long. 

It was a long search to find another planet that would support human life without extensive terraforming, the technology for which was sadly lacking. As the search went on for years, the group as a whole decided to concentrate the majority of funding on space ships for a colonization fleet. It turned out to be a very lucky thing that they did. Only nine of the proposed forty ships were completed and manned when the attack came in, seven made it out of the maelstrom of attacking enemy ships. 

I watched the footage from the archives database. I felt, as a founding family member, it was my responsibility to do so. There had been some warnings, deep space probes disappearing, communications lost from the mining ships in the asteroid belt, but no one knew what it meant. People were scared though, scared enough to mob the colonization ships trying to get on board. Against all orders to the contrary, my ancestor, along with his wife and some close friends who were Captain's on other ships, opened the doors and allowed anyone to board who wanted to. The corporate offices were threatening them but he had a feeling that time was short, too short to wait for the registered people to travel to the boarding sites. The only Ship Captains who followed orders were still loading their elite passengers when the first enemy ships were spotted in atmosphere. Our ship, Avalon, and six of Her sisters had loaded themselves over capacity with anyone able to board and took off, headed for deep space. As our ships left Earth they recorded the attack and subsequent destruction of our planet, our home.

How we escaped the enemy sensors is still a mystery all these years later. Maybe they were so wrapped up in their killing frenzy they were distracted, maybe the drive systems of our ships were invisible to them, no one knows. We headed into deep space, running from an enemy we knew nothing about, with no idea where we were going.

The first years of exile were tough. The ships stayed in constant communication and came up with a governing council that included the six Captains, the one corporate officer lucky enough to be on board, and an elected representative from each ship's population. Humanity had gone from a population of 16 billion to a little over 2 million, from an assortment of nations with many different types of government to a council of thirteen ruling all. Discipline was brutal; it had to be for survival. With every ship over capacity the life support systems were struggling and food was rationed. A previously unknown virus swept through one ship, the Cape May, killing 94% of its inhabitants before a counter-virus was discovered. Three years after the destruction of Earth, the ship Putin was lost with all hands when it struck something the sensors missed while making a Translation, a small inner system jump used for navigation purposes. Things were looking very bleak for the survival of Humanity.

Eventually things got better. People got used to living in space ships, a very different life than planet side, the scientists and medical staff worked wonders. Generations passed. All we know now is ship life. If we ever do find a planet to live on, most people will be unsuited to do so. There is a plan in place to incorporate living on a new Earth if we ever find one but who knows if it will be effective, it is untested. National identities have been replaced by ship identities, but we still use Old Earth times, dates, and measurements. It is one of the many ways we try to keep our memories alive, even after all this time, of our lost home. 

Another way we do this is our yearly Earth Day remembrance. We gather, everyone except absolutely essential personnel are off-duty, we remember, and we mourn what was lost for twelve hours. The second twelve hours are an insane party. At least 60% of new births can be traced back to the yearly celebration. Half a day of mourning and half a day to celebrate that we are still here. To celebrate that we will go on, that Humanity will survive. 

Birth rates are strictly controlled but generally, a family will be permitted one offspring per adult family member. My Brother Husband and I share three Sister Wives giving us an allowance of five children, two of which have been born, one on the way and two to come eventually. Joe and I were best friends throughout training and it was a foregone conclusion that we would start a family unit together. The two of us are very different in looks; he is blonde, 6'2" and wide all over, I am 5'9", slim and muscular with dark hair. Our personalities though, we have the same sense of humor, similar interests, and can practically read each other's minds. Our friendship started when I was walking down a corridor and saw two boys picking on a third. I was big for my age due to an early growth spurt and I intervened. Beating up two boys got me in a lot of trouble but Joe, who had been on the receiving end of the bully's wrath, stuck by me and eventually we became fast friends. Three years later Joe hit his growth spurt and what a growth spurt it was. He rocketed up to his 6'2" size and seemed to get wider every day. Now he was the one who was protecting me. I had been a lonely boy with no siblings and Joe became my brother.

We met Ashiri in training as well. She was a gawky little thing who had never been on a date until Joe asked her out. The first time he introduced us I fell for her hard. I kept my distance and tried to forget what I was feeling but eventually Joe confronted me. He wanted his best friend and girlfriend to get along. I confessed my feelings for her figuring our friendship was over. Imagine my surprise when they started taking me out on dates together. Joe told me that any woman who tried to get between us wasn't worth dating. Ashiri agreed whole heartedly and dated us both. Eventually the shy gawky girl grew into a goddess of Indian descent, with smooth mocha skin, long black hair usually braided in a plait, and an elegantly slim body. She proposed to us after we completed training and we gave her an enthusiastic yes.

A year after we married she presented us with a Sister Wife from the ship The Amazon, a woman she had met while visiting her brother who lives there with his husband. Julie is a petite redhead with adorable freckles everywhere on her body. Her pale skin looks perfect with her bright red hair and she is deliciously curvy. Her full round breasts and big bubble butt turn heads wherever we go. When our wife called us to say she was bringing company home we were shocked. It was out of character for her. We picked her up at the air lock and before I knew it I was bowled over by a vision of loveliness. Looking at my wife in shock as I was being thoroughly kissed by this tiny woman I saw her laughing at me. 

"This is Julie" Ashiri said with a smile, "She's really friendly."

Joe was having a laugh as well until Julie let me go and jumped into his arms to kiss him. None of us had ever met a person with more energy, or more love in her heart. She asked to marry into our family within a week of following Ashiri to our ship to meet Joe and me. Six months later we had a second wedding ceremony.

Mina joined us ten years later. Her first husband had died in a shuttlecraft accident and she had thrown herself into work in her grief. Joe worked in the same department with her and over time they became friends. Once she began coming over for family dinners we all fell in love with her but it took her three years to ask to join us formally. She could have had anyone she pleased in her bed or her life, being a 6' tall blonde with a killer body will take you far in that regard, but she had been devastated when her husband died and it took a long time before she was ready. Julie was instrumental in getting her to open up and love again. Mina still works more hours than the rest of us sometimes and we worry about her constantly.

I am sure that many families don't take Earth Day as seriously as our family does, but having an ancestor who was an original Ship Captain gives one certain amount of responsibility. As the Eldest of the family I take the lead in family meetings and gatherings. We gathered in our family compartment, the seven of us, to complete our Earth Day ritual. Holding hands we sat in a semi-circle around a small patch of grass containing a single Daisy flower. 

"Remember," I intoned.

"Remember," they repeated.

"There were parts of Earth that you could travel for days communing with nature without seeing another person. People used to take portable shelters out into the woods, far away from the cities, and spend time looking at the trees, the streams, and the mountains," I said wistfully. "They would cook their food on an open fire, called a campfire."

Rini our youngest, at only 6, put her hand up and spoke next. "There used to be thousands and thousands of types of animals. Big giant elephants, little tiny birds, and fish that lived in the ocean..." she began before being interrupted by her brother Sam who was 12 and convinced that his little sister never had anything good to contribute.

"There were so many animals that people kept them as pets and lived with them. Dogs and cats and birds..."

"Let your sister speak Sam," Mina corrected him. "It's her turn."

With a triumphant smile at her brother, Rini continued. "Some animals were pets but most lived in the wild. When the animals started dying we had to help them and that's why we fixed the en...envi"

"Environment?" I added helpfully.

"Environment," Rini finished. 

Joe chimed in. "Fixing the environment was important for the people too, not just the animals." he said, smiling at Rini, "The people would have died too."

"My first home ship is named The Amazon. It was named after a huge river, and river basin in South America that was one of the last places on Earth that had hardly any cities, towns, or people. It was a wild place full of different animals and so many flowers and trees. People travelled from all over the world to see it," Julie added in her soft voice.

Ashiri sang a song she had composed for the occasion, a slow mournful tune about loss and hope for the future that had us all in tears. We remained silent for quite a while after that. All of us, even the kids, lost in our thoughts, our memories of a better time. Predictably it was Sam who broke the silence, but for once he seemed subdued.

"There were trees called red something that were hundreds of years old. They were huge and there was one that had a tunnel drilled in it that old time cars could drive through."

"They were called Redwoods," I added.

Mina stood up and clasped her hands in front of her heart and her eyes full of tears.

"We have all faced loss. Our home planet is gone, wiped out by a foe we never knew. Space is a dangerous place. We still lose people every year to accidents," she choked up for a minute before continuing. "But we cannot let that define us as a people, as a species. What should define us is our hope. Our hope for the future keeps us going when we want to give up. It was hope that saved humanity when Earth was attacked. It is hope that keeps us looking for a new planet to call home. "

We continued for hours, talking about Old Earth, about what each of us had learned in school, about trees and flowers, rivers and oceans, but most of all about hope. Tears were shed, laughter was heard and love was felt by all. Joe and Mina left for work at the six hour mark, to relive people in their section so that they could spend time with their own families. The kids left to visit friends after dinner. Julie, Ashiri, and I sat holding hands and remembering.

At the twelve hour mark the intercom chimed for attention.

"This is your Captain speaking. The official celebration of Earth Day begins now. The next 12 hours should be spent in celebration of life. Enjoy yourselves. Have fun. That's an order."

The resounding cheer could be heard throughout the ship. We turned the entertainment center on in our compartment and a dance tune came on. Julie and I kicked up our heels and started dancing up a storm. Ashiri sat back and laughed, rubbing her baby bulge. After two songs she cut in. Julie started to step back to give us room but laughing, Ashiri pulled her close and pushed me away. I sat down with a grin on my face and watched them. 

Love is a beautiful thing, I thought. When it's shared, when it's given away, it isn't lessened. It multiplies.

A slow song came on and I joined them. We danced, holding each other close.

"I wish Joe and Mina were here," Julie said.

"They'll be here soon," I replied.

"Another 3 hours," Ashiri added. "When they get here we have another celebration to begin."

"What do you mean?" I asked, "What are you talking about?"

"It's a surprise" Julie said with an impish grin, 'You'll find out when they get back."

"Well then why bring it up?" I said exasperated.

"To torture you, of course," Ashiri said playfully.

They were immune to my pleas and drove me crazy keeping the surprise from me. Sam sent us a message that he was spending the night with a friend. Rini came home and had a little dance party all by herself. Finally she tired herself out and just as Mina walked in we put her to bed in her room. The four of us traipsed in to kiss her goodnight and Joe showed up in time to read her a story and get his own kiss.

We met back in the living area and I burst out, "All right. We're all here. What's the surprise?"

The three women burst out laughing as Joe asked, "What surprise?"

"Sit down you two," Ashiri said. "We have an announcement."

"We have decided it is time to add to our family again. We want an Earth Day baby," Mina said with a smile. "I'm ovulating. All I need is you two to make love to me."

"But Ashiri is already pregnant?" Joe blurted out, "You want two in diapers at the same time?"

"We waited too long after Sam to have Rini," Julie said. "We want them closer together in age so they will have a playmate."

"Do we have a say in this?" I said chuckling. 

"No!" the women said together making us all break out laughing.

"Do you remember making any decisions since we met any of these infernal women?" Joe said in a mock angry voice. 

"Not a one," I replied, ducking as Mina swung at me. Catching her in my arms I kissed her long and deep.

"I can't wait to make a baby with you," I said tenderly. Stepping up to join us, Joe leaned in.

"Me either," he whispered in her ear, kissing her neck.

We all moved into the bedroom. Ashiri and Julie stepped up to Mina and slowly, lovingly took off her clothes. They lay her back onto the bed and stepped up to Joe. He received the same treatment and was led to the bed to join Mina. He took her into his arms and began to kiss her neck. Julie joined them on the bed and sat near Mina's head, planting gentle kisses on her forehead and running her fingers through her hair. Joe kissed his way down to her breasts and began to kiss and suck around them before taking each nipple in his mouth to suck them briefly. She moaned gently.

Ashiri stepped into my arms and I held her close, rubbing her belly and watching the loving scene before us. I felt the baby give a kick and smiled.

"He's active today," Ashiri said.

"Celebrating Earth Day with us," I responded.

Joe had entered Mina and was thrusting away, kissing her fiercely. Julie was caressing them both. Ashiri began removing my clothes.

"He'll be done soon. You know how much it turns him on to make babies," she said as we shared a laugh. 

I remembered when Julie was trying to get pregnant with Sam. Joe went from being the tender lover he usually was to a jackhammer of passion. The pattern repeated with Julie when she got pregnant with Rini and again when Ashiri tried for our newest baby. Something about an ovulating woman brought out a primal instinct in him. We, of course, teased him mercilessly, especially the women. 

Joe tensed up and pushed himself fully into Mina's welcoming womb crying out as he came.

"That's my caveman," Mina said lovingly as he climbed off the bed. She beckoned to me and I joined her. Pulling her into my arms I kissed her deeply. 

"I want to be on top," she said rolling over onto me. 

She lowered herself down taking me deep inside her and began grinding her hips in a circular motion. Reaching up I caressed her face with my left hand as I rubbed my right down the swell of her breast.

"You are so beautiful," I said sitting up and pulling her to me for a kiss as she ground away on my lap. We made love unhurriedly, reveling in the feel of each other, the touch of body against body. After what seemed an eternity of bliss, she threw her head back and came as I released into her. 

As we sat there entwined holding each other; Joe, Ashiri, and Julie joined us on the bed for a group hug.

"Best Earth Day celebration ever," I said to my loving family.