Another Springtime Ch. 12

"Dace, I don't have a swimming suit." I can still remember the sweetness in her tone as she told me, and she reminded me again of the youthful teen-agers cajoling her dad for a prom dress.

I didn't answer right away, and that moment's hesitation seemed to carry a possible suggestion to her.

"I think Ineed a suit to go swimming with you." Like I said, she was quick as a wink to connect the dots, and she had enough experience with me at this point that she was only rarely caught off guard when I teased her. It was part question and part declaration, but mixed in there somehow was her questioning my hesitation.

I agreed that she needed a suit and in our shopping excursion that evening she said she didn't think a two-piece was suitable. She was a modest girl, even if now openly passionate and playful with me in private, and she was delighted when she found a brilliant white tank suit similar to the ones at the Bangor pool.

From the very first, she had trouble with the shoulder straps. They were thin, spaghetti type straps, and adjustable. She had adjusted them so they were snug on her shoulders, but as she entered the water the slight buoyancy of her breasts loosened the load on the straps and they slipped readily off her shoulders.

"These straps don't want to stay up, Dace." She could say such a thing with an innocent sweetness that was just darling.

"I don't want them to stay up either, Christine..."

She turned to me, surprised at my statement.

"You have no idea how very cute you are with the straps down and you holding your suit up in front of you."

She stood there waist deep in the pool, her hands fully occupied and unsure how to deal with the uncooperative straps, and looked up at me over her shoulder... and suddenly her distress changed to... well, something I can not really describe... but the sweet allure in those big brown eyes ripped through my composure like Sherman's march to the sea.

"Darling husband," she whispered coquettishly even as her eyes twinkled, "you're naughty!"

I dove back into the pool and surfaced at the deep end, beckoning her with my eyes to come to me. The pool in their backyard was really quite private and secluded, and I felt that my designs on my wife were not ill suited to our situation. More over, her response to my comment was her own little sign to me that she wanted to be mine and felt safe with me.

After a moment watching me, her hands holding her suit over her breasts and very vulnerable and sweet, she slipped deeper into the water, and began to swim towards me.

"You stir up the buzzy bees inside, and then you tease me... and make me...." She had reached me and hung onto my shoulder while sweeping her hair and the water from her face.

"Make you... make you what?" Hands on her trim waist, I held her to me so that she used both hands to pull her hair behind her head.

"You know already, Darling."

"Do I now? Is not the mind of a woman a mysterious and...?"

"Yes, it is," she interjected with a sweet smile, "but not to her husband when he... when he makes her..." she halted and dropped her eyes. "Makes her want him so."

"Want him?" I tried to make that sound innocent, but there was a distinct twinkle of passion in those eyes.

"Yes, I know you know what I'm trying to say. You just like to hear me say it. Well, I do! I want you... I want you to... tomake me yours and all special for you and glowing." Her saucy smile was full of self-confidence that she was my sweetheart. "You know already..." she hesitated and wanted me to not make her say it... and yet at the same time, she wanted me to know, "your love and tenderness makes me all warm inside and I love it when you fill me with your love for me."

"Well, that's pretty special, I think. My girl...my pretty little vixen... she likes to be with me and snuggle... she's really cute that way!" I lifted her so that her breasts floated a bit and the unruly straps promptly curled off her shoulders as if on demand. "She has the sweetest, most delicately feminine way of telling me..." – she watched me silently as the wet material clung to her pretty breasts – "that she is thrilled she has a special place with me...."

I kissed her softly and felt her return my kiss with pleasure. My mouth wandered over her cheek and throat, to the swell of her breast and nuzzled one free of its covering and nibbled lightly about her cute little nipple, already taut and firm both from the cool water and her arousal, and she giggled and then whimpered at my ministrations. She thrust her one breast into my face and held my head to her, letting herself surrender to me with her tender little whimpers.

We enjoyed our swim together, especially after I slipped her suit down off her legs. After chasing her about and playing for a time, she came to me with a coquettish little smile and her dancing eyes, and presently I could feel her soft hands on me. Her gesture stopped us and we tried to catch our breaths, but only seldom had she been so open with her desires.

She held me, then looked down at us under the water, moving her hands on me lightly, and then back up at me with eyes beckoning and begging.

"This is what I want most of all, sweetheart. Please... please make me,please make me yours!"

It was a marvelous afternoon together in the pool and then on the lush green grass under the shade of the big tree.

* * *

It is one thing to observe a beautiful woman from afar, and that can be very pleasant, and lighten the burdens of one's day.

To meet her, and have the privilege of passing the time in simple conversation, can become something quite delightful.

For there to develop a closer friendship and association, brings a soothing that makes the world a little brighter.

When a friendship matures into a high mutual regard, and that progresses to a genuine feeling of love and admiration, and then dedication, now, Neighbor,now we have something quite extraordinary in its beauty, and it seems then that music and sunshine are everywhere!

However infatuating the friendship before, for a woman of integrity, love and marriage is the cross over from what may have been a very pleasant association to a spectacular world of loving and intimate involvement that is, well... as I said, quite extraordinary.

She brings with her beauty of person a freshness and vitality to a man's existence that to him was before almost incomprehensible. It can only be, I think, her gift of self, and her devotion to their togetherness that endow their union with such glorious qualities. How else can one explain it?

I try to capture it somehow in words, still all my efforts seem feeble attempts at explaining what remains inexplicable. Yet, man's soul yearns deeply to achieve and savor that very special unity with a woman.

One Saturday morning will always remain in my memory. When I think of a beautiful woman, she is the only image that comes to mind... and I think of that Saturday as the most striking example of what love and beauty can be to a man.

Working together on some simple household chores, we were chatting and laughing, and I had kissed her on the neck, and she had giggled in response, and the play began. She welcomed my caress, past inhibitions and all anxieties long since shed, other intrusions canceled out, and it became one of those times, unplanned and probably unplanable, when two become one.

Now, a couple of hours later, she lay across our bed in a soft slumber after our last words. I had arisen for a glass of water, thirsty and dry after our entanglement, and returned to find her unmoved in her exhaustion, and dozing sweetly just as she lay.

She was on her back, arms over her head, her hair tossed about wildly, in glorious profusion. There were roses in her cheeks and her body was flushed with passion and calm now in repose with the deep satisfaction of having been loved and ravished to the very outermost extent of her being by the man to whom she had given herself forever.

A random corner of the sheet was draped by simple chance over one foot and knee, but the rest of her lay spent and sprawled atop the tangled bedclothes just as I had left her when we had finally regained our breath and talked of the joy we experienced in each others arms.

I had told her quietly that she was more beautiful to me then than she ever had been before. That surprised her, and she had questioned me.

When she was all dressed up to go out together, like to the opera with me? Yes, I agreed, she was special. She mentioned other moments when I had complimented her. Yes, I concurred, each one outstanding.

Her questioning eyes remained fixed on me.

At first I could not find words to even begin to tell her the difference I could see with my eyes and heart.

"It is not..." I attempted a start, "... not many things. Not the event, not your dress, not your hair... nor anything that others can see...."

She cocked her head a little as she lay beneath me, wondering, I think, what I was getting at.

"It is, Darling,... it is...just you..." I was grappling for words where none seemed to be adequate, "just you... like right now, unadorned save for my little heart about your throat, unrestrained, unencumbered with the world... wanting me to love and cherish you... and wanting to love and cherish me."

I could feel her respond then, reveling in our intimacy and feeling me still deep inside her.

"It is a glorious sensation to know you are mine, both your body and your spirit together, committed to me, and that because you know I am as well devoted and committed to you...

"We have been two... and we have become one.

"The unity we have," I said, "is something quite magnificent and divine."

Even then, even after admitting to the supremacy of divinity's working in us, I wanted more words to tell her of my joy with her as my companion.

Only after a pause they came, still insufficient but helpful. "It is meant to be enjoyed and seen by the two who enjoy such unity in love, but no other can perceive it. Thank you for your love, darling."

She was smiling at me then... that smile of hers was like unto the crown jewels of the grandest kingdom one could imagine, full of sweetness, trust and love, from a sweet and trusting and loving girl... but the smile was meant for just one man in her entire world, and for that one man only.

And, friend,I was that man, then and now!

The image of her that day is beyond mortal words, and I took the time – one of the few times I have had the presence of mind to stop and savor the moment to its fullest – to let the engraving on my heart be completed in exquisite detail, standing there next to our bed observing her as she slumbered. Her body was magnificent but, I have to admit, the real fire was in her eyes, and when they had twinkled for me when she was awake it had been like unto the stars in the heavens, for that is where she had taken me.

And now, wearied from our exertions together, she slumbered, beautiful, confident and trusting in my love all about her. And, worn to a frazzle myself, I again lay down with her, enjoying the nymph-like creature at my side. My eyelids had begun to sag when she stirred briefly, and rolled over against me whimpering for me to hold her.

* * *

Later that spring was graduation for me, and success at being selected for a university teaching position at another campus on the west coast. We relocated that summer, and found a comfortable apartment together.

During the very first week of classes that fall one of the young ladies in one class approached me with a smile and complimented me on the embroidery design on my shirt pocket... a trio of little sky-blue flowers with bright yellow centers... and asked what the flowers meant. I said casually – I thought of it as casually, but perhaps there was a tone of deep, personal satisfaction in there as well – that my wife made all my dress shirts for me, and the flowers were her idea... "They'reForget-me-nots."

The girl could not help a look of helpless chagrin. "Oh," she said simply, tried to smile, and turned away.

She was a pleasant girl... but no competition formy girl!

Life is good.

The Forget-me-nots. I thought I would not tell of this, but... It's kind of special. Well, we've come this far, let's add this portion to the story as well. It makes the reference to the Forget-me-nots more meaningful.

"Are you forgetting anything, Darling?"

It was a simple enough question, but without any immediate context evident, thus I had no frame of reference to understand her implication. We were right at the end of a two hour block of study time alone, and I should have been more aware of that. I was up to my ears in finishing a paper for one class when she had called to me from her kitchen, and I turned slightly in her direction from my computer monitor, several chapters deep into my analysis of Heinrich von Kleist'sDas Erdbeben in Chili and trying to get a thought complete, and not really thinking about the clock. I asked somewhat absent mindedly over my shoulder, "Forgotten anything? Like what, Babe?"

She did not answer immediately, and her silence wrenched my attention away from my studies as I heard the freezer door close. Checking the clock, I knew my time was up... file save, and such, and then I swiveled to find her coming toward me with a dish of ice cream and that shy smile of hers, with a touch of impiness that was just enchanting.

She took her place confidently on my lap with a little wiggle and offered me a taste of strawberry ice cream on her spoon. I had done that to her a few days before and then kissed her and we shared her mouthful of ice cream as our tongues played tag and we enjoyed a slobbery exchange... which surprised her at first, and then drew from her a very delicious response. Now she was turning the tables with playful and dancing eyes, and then her cute little whimpers.

I enjoyed her initiative in expressing her love for me, which had earlier been a challenge for her, but I remained aware of her holding the dish of ice cream, and managed to get it safely to the desk top as she lost all awareness in my embrace and our kiss tossed her composure to the four winds. It was several minutes before we came up for air, her hair all tousled, gasping, and her cheeks flushed with roses.

She curled up on my lap for a hug and just relaxed, her head under my chin. She wanted to cuddle, and I held myself back a little – holding myself back with her always proved to be fun in the end – because it allowed her own desires for my attention to intensify. Maybe I was just getting more perceptive, perhaps it was intuition, but I was patient enough to not push things... but just wait for her.

She sat up at last, making no move to leave but perched herself on my lap like the Queen of Sheba on her throne, looking into my eyes very intently pretending to be demanding. "Well, are you?"

What was she thinking about?

I took a leap, guessing that she was still working with the forgetting question. "Am I forgetting anything?"

She was waiting.

"Kitten," that was a nickname I used with her sometimes during our love making, "when you kiss me like that I remember all the most important things very clearly, and...." She was so very alluring when she was ...

"And? And, what?" She could make her demands with such sweet impishness I was just helpless.

"And virtually everything beyond my wife in my arms is..." I wanted something to titillate her a bit, "Alles ist sofort aus der Sichtweite ganz und gar weggeschmißen!" [English: Everything else is swished away from my field of vision... all and every bit!]

"You didn't forget aboutme?" The tenderness in her tone was sweetness itself. The delicate smile that shapes her pretty mouth and lights up her eyes when she is confident in her place with me is just beyond words.

I knew somehow that she hadn't thought I had, but she had gone a couple of hours without a hug and a kiss, and was maybe a little bereft.

"Do you need a little more reminder?" How a girl does it, I can not imagine, but for her it flowed quite naturally. I just nodded my head and tried to look like I was a starving and thirsty man.

Her hair was everywhere and partly covered her face, but she ignored it as she studiously watched her nimble finger loosen the buttons of her blouse. That done, she gathered her hair from across her face and with both hands lifted it high behind her head... the movement, of course, pulling the material away from her beautiful breasts, revealing them to my appreciative gaze, leaving them gloriously bare and delightfully unencumbered.

Friend, in your more creative adventures you will never manage such an image as she presented to me. She was too shy to look me in the eyes now and just sat before me, like a goddess bestowing the ultimate gift upon her mate.

"I wanted to help you, Darling, to..." her voice faltered a little and she tilted her head a bit, and she seemed as fragile as a fine porcelain vase, "not forget me."

She was an incomparable beauty. As I have noted before, her posture was classic, her body superbly formed and healthy, and her magnificent breasts a splendidly inviting vision of loveliness. There was no reason to hurry this moment past, and I did not. I let her perch there on her throne as long as she would, just relishing the superb scenery.

"You said, Dace, that I could always get your attention...." She couldn't bring herself to say it out loud, but we both knew she was remembering my comment from our honeymoon. That had been several months back now, and she finally had the confidence to open her blouse to me.

"Yes, Darling..." I said. "You have my full attention right now.Thank you for your gift of self, Kitten."

The emotions of being so open with me were a drain on her, nevertheless, and she was beginning to tremble. I reached a hand to encompass her one breast and held her gently, squeezing a little, and could tell that my caress soothed her anxiety. My thumb once or twice over her little nipple and she gasped a little, but when I lifted slightly, taking the full weight of her breast in my hand, her composure melted quickly away and she was whimpering with pleasure, and came willingly into my embrace to be held.

Later, with her fully compliant and lost to my touch, I carried her to our bed. I bound her hands above her head to the one headboard post, and drew out the entire process of eliciting from her being every possible morsel of craving and desire. Her pretty breasts are very sensitive and pinching her little nipples even just lightly sends her into near convulsions. Licking and kisses and nibbling, and then sucking on her reduce her to a most delectable and submissive maiden, begging for my attention.

Nearly delirious, I don't think she was aware of me taking off her skirt. Completely mine to possess and thrill, I tried to make the best of the occasion. She was incoherent with pleasure and babbling, and begging me after three or four orgasms to make her. When I was ready and could hardly hold myself back any more, I did, and buried deep in her we rocketed off together to dreamland in an deeply passionate experience quite out of this world.

Making love with her was always more beautiful than words can express.

When her breathing returned to normal she smiled her thanks and as I kissed her again she slipped into a soft slumber, sweaty and flushed and exhausted from her exertions.

We slept a time together, probably about and hour. I awoke and watched her for a time, entranced by a pretty girl at my side.

There is something imminently satisfying to a man to be able to so fully satisfy his mate that she slumbers on so sweetly.