Riverside Afternoon, w/Marshmallows

Jimmy stood up: her feet were now nude, naked, uncovered, stripped, buck nekkid, exposed. Surely there were more, similar, adjectives? And in view. On display! And wonder of wonders, she didn't care. At least, not with him. She looked up at him - he was MUCH bigger than she, but she was surprised to find that comforting instead of threatening.

He shuffled his feet, grinned at her, and said "Your turn!"

She looked at him, puzzled, for a few seconds. Then she got it, flamed beet red, knew he noticed it, how could he NOT? She knelt down and quickly loosened his shoe-laces. He stood there patiently, until she tentatively cupped her hand under one calf and raised it. The action reminded her of watching a farrier shoeing a horse. Her palm and fingers took the moments to discretely explore the muscles on his calf, the texture of his skin, especially the tingly prickling of his hairs against her palm. And that caused a flashback to this morning before the mirror, with her hand on her pussy. More similar than she was ready to admit, the pair of sensations.

She finished quickly and stood, started to lead him by the hand toward the beach, all of five steps away, but he paused and said "Gotta get something from the tote!" He rummaged, came up with a paper bag, obviously heavier than it looked. It clinked slightly. He laughed: "Flat stones for throwing. You can't go to a river and not skip rocks on it, and this is an alluvial stream so there won't be any stones on the bank. So I brought us some!"

She was both surprised and impressed. And relieved, somehow. Throwing stones together - it was silly, and sort of vaguely romantic in some fuzzy way, and it would obviously lower the closeness that had enveloped them so suddenly. "WE'VE STARTED UNDRESSING ONE ANOTHER already!!" Good grief anyhow! A bit of her mind did that screaming, the all-caps thoughts - it was a bit of brain she was working hard to shush. Sure, sure - it was just shoes. SO FAR! WHAT'S NEXT, Julie? She couldn't even think about it clearly.

Throwing rocks could be a breather. You couldn't very well stand touching one another and effectively throw stones, could you?

Or was a breather really what she wanted?

They stood ankle deep in the river and skipped stones. And, of all things, they talked about the physics of the business. That wasn't what she expected, although she didn't HAVE any expectations that she could articulate, but it was quite nice. Even - oddly enough, rather romantic. Strange, that!

She learned a lot, fast, and was pleased with herself when she was able to answer some of his questions. She realized as they finished that he was actually a VERY good teacher - she hadn't even noticed until the end that there was a lesson in here. Sneaky of him!

She was a natural at this, and finally won the competition with a seven-skip throw. He told her that seven was supposed to be the absolute theoretical maximum possible and bowed to her, shook her hand ceremoniously. Then he said "Wait here. I brought something else that I think you'll like. And after that we can have lunch. Hungry yet?"

She was, suddenly, absolutely ravenous, and said so. Not to mention curious about what he might have brought to eat. Anticipation was a great spice, wasn't it?

He grinned at her. "Good! Hold that thought! Come on up here on the dry bank and wait for me."

He returned in a moment with a small, flat, leather pouch, about a foot long, zippered shut. And a plastic bag. He tossed the bag to her: marshmallows! What in the forever world? She looked at the bag, and back at Jimmy.

"All will be explained momentarily, Madam!"

She watched as he unzipped the pouch, and gasped when she saw what was inside. It was a handgun, a pistol, all shiny and hard and glittery and dangerous looking. Her father had several, locked away in a cabinet, but she had never shot one.

Jerry set the gun down on the ground between them, on its little case, and motioned her to sit across from him. The device had her attention, mongoose-and-cobra style. Finally she looked up at him, quizzically, silent.

"Julie, this is just an air-gun, not a real firearm with gunpowder. It uses compressed gas to shoot little lead pellets. In fact it's safe to shoot even in a backyard if you put up a blanket behind your target to catch the pellets. It doesn't make noise, or have a kick, and can't shoot very far. It's a great way to learn about guns, and it's a lot of fun to shoot. Of course it could hurt a person, and it has to be treated with all the respect due any gun, but it's not a powerful weapon. Want to learn? If you do, I have to teach you about safety and such. Shooting this fellow at things floating in the water is something I've done ever since my dad gave it to me twenty years ago."

She relaxed and looked at him, now understanding the marshmallows. She grinned happily, held it up and said "Targets! I get it!" Jimmy nodded, obviously pleased. "Really? I'd love to learn! Teach me!"

She tore the bag open with her teeth and threw two marshmallows out into the river as far as she could - not very far. They drifted on the glassy surface, moving ever so slowly with the current. She had a thought: "They look just like the loaves of bread in Huckleberry Finn... you know, they put mercury in them and floated them on the river and they were supposed to find a drowned body. Only these are miniatures. And maybe a little more waterproof."

Jimmy was impressed and told her so. And that really pleased her. She could TALK with this man. They watched the drifting marshmallows for a few seconds, then Julie said "Show me!" He picked up the pistol, did some things with it, and then pling, pling, two shots and two marshmallows jumped into the air.

He explained the gun, and how to be safe with it. Then, "Here's how we begin. Sit down here on the bank, facing the water, with your knees up. Rest your elbows on them."

She did so. He stepped out of sight - then, suddenly, he was sitting behind her, mimicking her pose, his legs outside hers, his stomach pressed against her back. It was as if he were wrapping her inside himself. Their legs were touching, the full length of her thighs were against the inside surfaces of his, her spine against his belly, his chest pressing gently on her shoulder-blades. She was on fire once more, all over. It was the closest thing she had ever done to one of those whole-body boy-girl, man-woman movie clinches. And it just APPEARED, completely out of the blue, with no warning whatever!

She gasped: her heart was racing, pounding so hard that it felt like some small caged animal trying desperately to get out. Almost a fear reaction, but subtly different. Her whole insides were boiling now, not just her deep belly. If she were a volcano, she would long ago have erupted, probably with considerable violence!

She took a long, slow breath and tried to steady herself, then studied the sensations of having this quantity of her skin in contact with his. There were zillions of nerve-endings, all going off at once in a frenzy of pleasure. Most incredibly powerful in the aggregate. It was delicious, both satisfying and deeply disturbing.

And down there against her lower back, at the base of her spine, there was some part of Jimmy's anatomy, all solid and lumpy, pressing against her very differently from his belly and chest that were so smooth and conforming. She realized what it must be, and nearly tried to pull away, but her body wouldn't do that, it simply refused to accept the order, which in any case was exceedingly tentative.

From some great distance she finally heard, and eventually focused on, Jimmy's instructions. He was serious - he was going to teach her about this gun! The pistol was in her hands now, heavy, solid, and fitting perfectly naturally. That surprised her, brought her back to what they were doing. The lesson, yes. Uh-huh!

His hands cupped hers - hers were so SMALL compared to his, his arms were along hers now, touching full-length just like their legs were touching. He was breathing right into her ear. Ummmm. Warm, almost a tickling. And - all this was just sort of incidental contact, wasn't it? How much more contact could they make, if they were to actually try? An interesting, very interesting speculation!

She pulled herself back to the lesson. His hands guided hers, and he was talking about the top of the front sight and lining it up with the notch in the rear sight and calling it a 'sight picture' and telling her to lock the pistol in her hands that way and then move it about, always keeping the alignment and not worrying about pointing it AT anything in particular.

She managed, with effort, to pay attention - she wanted to learn, and she wanted to do well. It would be nice to do well for this man, wrapped so comfortably and excitingly around her.

The thought drifted past, "What would my PARENTS and sister and her girlfriends think about this?" Could she ever, ever tell them? Probably not! But that was okay, because private stuff like this was special and nice to have as really truly PRIVATE.

Sight picture, sight picture. She could do this. Just watch her.

Jimmy seemed satisfied with her performance so far. He loaded the gun, without moving from being wrapped around her: the little wigglings and soft rubbings that went with the process were seriously nice. Then the gun was back in her hands and he had her aim across the river and lock in a sight picture and then, wonder of wonders, she was able to move the picture about until the top of the front sight was on a tree far away.

She squeezed the trigger when he told her, gently, gently, and POP, the gun went off. No recoil, no fuss. Far out across the water, the invisible pellet skipped several times, little minnow-splashes all in a row... more than seven, too. She giggled happily to herself.

Jimmy tossed a marshmallow out into the river, told her "SLOWLY! Do it right. I can't see your sight picture for you, so get it lined up before you go looking for the target, and hold the lineup while you move as you look for the target. Do it."

She did so, carefully, slowly. Top of sights together, all lined up.

The marshmallow drifted into her vision, she moved the sight-picture to the proper spot.

Tracking, adjusting.

Patience, as he had told her.

No hurry. Marshmallow is not trying to escape its fate by dodging.

Tiny little adjustments, like writing on a grain of rice they were so small. This was precision muscle-work, completely unlike soccer. Her pounding heartbeat wasn't helping either - up and down went the end of the barrel, with her pulse. Jimmy had warned her about that. She took a deep breath, held it, pressed slowly and gently on the trigger. Sight picture!

POP! The marshmallow leapt into the air on a miniature waterspout, and she squealed her pleasure. A hit, first shot!

Behind her she heard Jimmy's startled exhalation. Then he was squeezing her hard, a whole-body squeeze, legs, arms, chest, and saying "Bravo! Bravo! You're a natural, Julie... Julie Oakley!"

And now his breath was on the back of her neck and his lips and moustache were against the delicate skin just below her ear and there was this incredible rushing roar in her brain and he was kissing her, wasn't he? Out in front of her, on her knees, her hands shook but held onto the pistol. He was KISSING her! What in the ever loving world was she supposed to do about THAT? At the very least, NOT STOP!

But he did stop after a second - and apologized. "Sorry, Julie-Oakley, I just got carried away. I hope I didn't offend you - kissing without permission is a very rude thing. That was very, very good. With the pistol, I mean. Although the kissing was very good, too!"

HE was flustered, she realized - how unexpected, how delightful!

"Maybe you should stop while you're ahead, at 100% success?" he said.

She wondered - did he mean the shooting? Or the kissing? Or both? It was up to her to figure it out, wasn't it?

He relaxed his whole-body clutch on her and a little voice inside her screamed "NO! DON'T GO! IT'S OKAY, REALLY IT IS, DON'T STOP!" Julie whispered towards her feet "I'm not offended. It's okay."

If she didn't do something with this pistol, she thought briefly, she was going to drop it, for all the strength in her arms seems to be leaking out. She slowly set the pistol down on its little splayed-out pouch and let herself sag backwards into the warmth that had enveloped her so nicely. He sagged back, relaxed slightly, enabling her to settle deeply against him. Lovely. PROGRESS!

She dropped her head down, reached across her chest with her arms and gripped Jimmy's arms, pulled herself snugly, almost desperately against him.

Somehow she managed to make her voice work: "I like it when you hold me this way. It's okay."

He folded his arms over hers, crossed, tight. This was even better! More would be very, very good indeed. Yes, more. Could she ask for it? Would that be an okay thing to do?

She bent her neck even farther forward. The move was conscious, intentional, the idea coming to her as naturally as breathing itself. The back and sides and nape of her neck were fully exposed now - which made the long curve of pale skin a perfect target. A kissing-target. So she hoped.

She whispered, almost to herself, "Permission." That target's availability plus permission wasn't quite 'asking' for more, was it?

She wasn't being pushy or anything. Not Miss religious, under grown, dateless, puppy-feet Julie!

Obviously, Jimmy heard.

And understood.

And was interested in 'more' himself.

She was amazed and pleased. And puzzled, too - why was he interested in HER? Or did it matter why, maybe just the fact of it was plenty.

She held her breath, waiting. And while she waited, a new-old sensation made itself clear to her - down between her legs she was dripping wet. Then right behind her neck there was a sense of closeness, warmth, and then touch: her whole being concentrated on the incandescent spot where his lips nibbled gently against the side of her neck. Warm, HOT Jimmy-breath enveloped the side of her face and neck. Up and down along the curve went the lips, trailing fire and sparks she was sure. Against the earlobe, and then behind it, something warmer and slippery. Surely that was his tongue-tip? She felt as if she were melting. Breathing allowed only insofar as it did NOT interfere with the kissing. Yummmmm.

How hard were they squeezing one another, anyhow? He could positively mash her if he wished - she could feel his strength. But it was a nice strength, not fearsome. And there was this subtle brain-wrenching smell, Jimmy-male-man-smell that penetrated her like a velvet knife. Maybe that was what she had detected back at the guard-rail? Did she emit something like that as well, for him? Wow. Double triple wow.

She shivered violently as he squeezed her to him, pushed and shoved herself into that embrace as tightly as she could. What next, where to go? What was SHE supposed to do? She didn't know. It was scary as hell. And just perfectly right, too.

She wriggled against him, studying how they fit. Delicious.

Then both disappointment and relief flooded her as Jimmy's lips left her neck and he slowly and carefully stood, bringing her up with him. He turned her to face him and said very softly "Thank you for the permission. I should have asked in advance, though, but I just got carried away and it seems such a natural thing to do. And I really like hugging you like that, it's very special. But I think we'd better slow down a bit, and have some lunch. After all, there's lots of time, we're not in a hurry, and you did say you were hungry. And I can fix that. If you're ready for a little food-adventure. Are you?'

Now that they were separated ("But just for the moment!" her brain yelled at her), she was grateful for the respite. Her insides were in such an incredible MESS - if she were to release her self-control she would shake like she was freezing to death! She nodded at him. Food fled from her mind for the moment.

Question! - Was he going to kiss her for real right now? Before lunch? They were face-to-face - that was the right orientation, wasn't it? What would it be like? What should she DO, anyway, if he did kiss her? Would she kiss HIM, too? What did that mean, how did kissing really GO? She didn't know.

He hadn't moved yet. Didn't he want to? Couldn't he TELL what she wanted? And why was she so suddenly concerned with the idea? Kissing, real kissing, was not something that she had ever particularly daydreamed about, rather it had always seemed somehow rather gross, the business of mouth-to-mouth, tongue-to-tongue.

And here, suddenly, she wanted it. God how much she wanted it! Back and forth, round and round, her mind was spinning. She hadn't a clue how to make it happen.

Even worse, she couldn't tell if Jimmy wanted it. Maybe he DIDN'T want it? That would be awful! So she just nodded about the food, wishing it had been a whole different question, and let him lead her back to the tree. No pre-lunch kissing. Damn.

They sat down in the shade: her pulse was slowly returning to something like normal, but she was still deeply rattled. She calmed herself by watching Jimmy extract mysterious little packages from the tote. First came something rather large, wrapped in a big towel. He grinned at her, unwrapped the towel. Out fell two packages of blue "reusable ice", followed by what looked exactly like a bottle of champagne! It was obviously ice-cold, because the bottle was sweating heavily in the humidity. Julie's eyes popped, and she looked up at Jimmy's face to see if he was joking, or what? She had never had champagne in her life, not even at Christmas or New Year's.

She began, "Jimmy, is that really-?"

He shook his head and smiled, handed her the bottle as he unrolled another towel to produce two nicely-shaped champagne glasses. She studied the label - it was something called "sparkling Catawba juice", and plainly labeled 'non-alcoholic'. She wasn't sure whether to be happy or sad about that! After all, she WAS rather busy collection "first times" today, why not champagne as well?

Then Jimmy said "Nope. I wouldn't want to feed you alcohol and then have folks - including YOU, tomorrow! - think I was taking advantage of you or anything bad like that! This is very tasty stuff, it's actually perfectly good champagne, just no alcohol. I think you'll like it."

Then, before she could say anything, he put his hands on her shoulders and said "Let's be completely serious for a second. You and I are in a very peculiar position here... me being a good deal the older, and also in a position of authority over you, as your coach. I want you to really understand that all this has to be your free choice. I don't want there to ever be any thought that there was some sort of coercion, that I forced you to do anything you didn't want to do, or anything you didn't fully understand."

She looked at him with solid unwavering eye-contact. "Coercion, Jimmy? Of course I know what that means. No, there isn't any of that between us."

He studied her, then said "Okay... but I want you to think carefully, and to be honest. There are lots of kinds of coercion, some of them very subtle. You might be thinking that if you don't do something with me, there will be recriminations. Bad consequences. Maybe that I wouldn't ever play you in soccer games, who knows what you might think. Playing soccer might be VERY important to you, and you might be doing things with me just because you were worried about such stuff."

He stopped, waited, and when she said nothing, he continued. "It could easily be even subtler, like you feeling you have to keep up with some of your girlfriends, the ones who are already dating and necking and fucking. I don't want any of that stuff to pop up later. You are totally free to quit and just leave any time at all, and I promise, I swear, no recriminations. No pressure, and no coercion and no recriminations. We have to be together just because we like and trust one another - we have to declare that whatever imbalances of power there are, you simply won't let them be important in deciding what to do between us. Okay?"