Riverside Afternoon, w/Marshmallows

She nodded, kept her eyes squarely on his as she handed the bottle back. "Jimmy, you're NOT taking advantage of me! And there's no coercion, either. After all, it was ME who invited YOU here, and this is MY special place. It's not like you're kidnapping me or forcing me to do things, you know! Even when you kissed my neck..." (She could hardly believe it had happened, much less that she was able to TALK about it!) "...I could have told you NO. I even thought about it."

She giggled at him, continued "...for a moment, anyway. Not for very long, though."

A cute little white lie if ever there was one - she had no more considered saying "Stop that! - no more!" than she had considered poking a stick into her own eye! But it was during this little speech that Julie began to realize that she was correct in what she was saying... and more importantly, that she could, it seemed, actually direct the flow of events here. Even if so far Mister Jimmy had pretty much been the director.

What with asking permission and explaining things and being so gentlemanly, he couldn't have made it clearer that she did not have to do anything she wasn't up for or interested in. It was VERY nice of him to be so clear and open about it, but she already understood that it was up to her to decide what fit into those categories - 'up for' and 'interested in'. The murk around her feelings and actions seemed a lot less dense now.

Meanwhile, Jimmy was uncorking the bottle, complete with classic champagne-POP, and pouring the sparkling liquid. He handed her a glass, offered a toast: "It's an honor to be so trusted. Thank you! Here's to your special place. I like it."

It was delicious: sweet-tart and tingly on her tongue, and the bubbles were profuse. They tickled her nose. The glasses were actually hard plastic - a good idea, she thought. Jimmy spread the bottle-towel as a picnic blanket, and they arranged his packages of food on it. Even across their "table" she could both feel and smell him. Her inner glow filled her all the way to her skin, everywhere.

He opened packages. Smoked salmon, the expensive juicy kind. Black olives - "With pits!" he warned. A baguette. A chunk of dark yellow cheese in its bright red wax rind. And a tiny little jar with a black top. And there was still another small package which he didn't open: instead, he tapped it with a finger and said "This one's dessert!".

She goggled at the little jar, sure she recognized it, then looked up at him. He was studying her reactions and seemed pleased, certainly with himself, probably with both of them.

"Caviar?" she whispered. "Really?"

He sighed, grinned, and said "Yep. But don't get too impressed, it's about the cheapest there is. But it's fun. Ever had any?"

She shook her head. She was in a completely different sort of emotional whirl now. What in the world had possessed this lovely man to treat her this way? Never in her wildest dreams, not in any of her girl-friends' dating and romance stories, was there anything like this.

Inside, she felt as if she were melting, all over again. Abruptly she became aware of her armpits: they had gone tropical on her and there were little drizzles of sweat down her ribs. But it wasn't that hot here, and she hadn't done anything -exercise or otherwise!- to rate that sweat, had she? Most peculiar!

He tore off chunks of bread, sliced the cheese with his Swiss Army knife, and popped the top off the caviar. She watched. He put a dollop on a bit of crust and handed it to her, saying "Salty, and strong fish! Hope you like strong flavors!"

She sniffed it - fishy for sure. It WAS strong-flavored, too - but nice. Odd, the squishiness of bread with the little firecracker pops of imploding fish-eggs. She washed it down with a sip of her juice, and grinned happily at him, even more happy when she saw the relief on his face. He had been genuinely WORRIED that she might not like it! How sweet!

But she did like it and said so. And unexpectedly, as she scanned over the little feast, a line of poetry, from one of her Mother's favorite poems, popped into her head and she rattled it off: "A loaf of bread..." She tapped the baguette. "A jug of wine..." She tapped the bottle, looked at him to see if he knew what she was reciting.

Jimmy looked tremendously pleased, and continued for her: "And thou beside me, singing in the wilderness." He made a huge sweeping gesture with his arms, encompassing their little bower and their bit of river. "Wilderness indeed! And forget it, M'Lady, thou shalt NOT hear me sing to thee this day. Or ever, for that matter! You, however, can sing to ME whenever it pleases you."

They laughed, and scanned one another through very different eyes. She was quite happy with herself and this situation. Somehow, inexperience aside, she seemed to be managing things reasonably well... and then she did a mental shrug - if things were going well, whatever that meant, well, they were so due to Jimmy's actions and his self-control, not HERS. Better be realistic!

For fifteen minutes they worked their way through the goodies: she was every bit as hungry as she had thought, but there was plenty. They talked about the river, and skipping rocks, and willow leaves and leaf-lenses and why people liked or didn't like foods, and one another.

They had almost nothing left of the beautiful lunch now, and Jimmy stuffed all the wrappers and trash into the tote, leaving them sitting on the big towel. He poured the rest of the catawba into their glasses, then set the last little package down between them. She studied it, eyed him.

He said "Dessert. Open it for us."

A mid-summer riverbank Christmas!

She opened it carefully - the white paper was sealed with a gold sticker with the name of the deli on it. Inside was a clear plastic cup with a lid. Inside that cup were five stunning strawberries, each one absolutely perfect and obviously dead ripe. Each had been two-thirds dipped into dark chocolate, and each still had its long green stem attached. They were gorgeous! The center berry was huge, three times the size of the other four.

He opened the cup and held it out: she murmured "Oh, WOW!" and picked up one of the four, then held it out to him. He took it, handed her one of the others. He dipped his berry into his glass of bubbly, she followed suit. There was a ritual to this, wasn't there? A bit like dancing; he was leading, she was following.

Together they munched, slowly. The combination of textures and flavors was amazing. When finally she swallowed, all she could do was say, again, "WOW!"

He put his whole second strawberry, stem and all, into his mouth. Moments later he stuck his tongue out at her - it held the stem, now tied in a simple knot. She stared, then realized that he'd tied the knot using his tongue. The implications were obvious and turned her suddenly scarlet. He paid no attention to the blush.

He picked up another berry, dipped it, and held it out towards her mouth. She grinned, and leaned in to catch it. She tugged, the stem held for a moment, then pulled out. She chewed, watching him closely all the while.

After he finished, they just sat there, a foot apart, for the longest time. Silent. It was nice, just being together, in this silence. Feeling him close by. Not quite as nice as being cuddled, but nice enough, thank you! And then there was the indefinable electric tension between them, like the air just before a summer thunderstorm starts throwing lightning bolts about.

Jimmy picked up the cup and shook I gently: the last, huge berry rolled about invitingly. He gave her a strange look, a rather serious look that she couldn't begin to interpret. Before she could worry about it, though, he picked up the berry and pulled the stem from it with a tiny but audible plop. Then he opened his mouth and set his teeth around the berry just exactly half-way. He closed his lips. And looked at her, waiting.

Her brain did a tiny stutter-step as it engaged and finally understood the invitation. With her eyes focused on his, she leaned forward as if pulled by a soul-magnet. He held still, waiting.

Did ever any space-ship's docking maneuver take so long? Months and months seemed to pass by as she closed in on the berry.

Now her pulse was incredible, and her pit-sweat was a river, and her knees were shaking despite the fact she was sitting down. Too close to focus. Her eyes closed as she opened her mouth and covered her half of the strawberry.

The lightning began as their lips touched, wrapping it, in a perfect circle. There was a roaring deep in her ears, and she felt genuinely dizzy. They pressed themselves together, a mutual motion, tiny, gentle, growing steadily firmer with every passing second, wonderful. Then she felt him take the lead again, biting slowly through the berry. She followed. The chocolate crunched, the berry gushed and filled her nose and throat with juice and pulp and perfume. Slowly, mouths together, they became a perfect twosome, a team dedicated to making the strawberry go away. But very, very slowly indeed. And with a flawless lip-seal, not to waste a droplet.

If ever in all her existence there was an experience that she didn't want to rush, this was IT! And had there ever been anything in her whole LIFE so delicious as that very first touch of his tongue tip to hers, through the shared mush of strawberry and chocolate?

Slowly the berry disappeared, but their lips didn't separate. Her belly was flaring up, on fire again, ice-cold blue-hot fire. He explored the insides of her mouth in the most loving, careful, gentle way - her estimate of his tongue's abilities had been way, WAY too low!

She reciprocated, exploring him. Slick inner surfaces, hardness of teeth, so many different, interesting textures. She felt like she was falling into a well of some sort. Then he puffed his breath into her mouth - she felt it gust out of her nose, and he sucked back, filling his lungs! She tried it in return - it worked. They were breathing through one another! Incredible. How close could two people get, anyhow?

He shifted his weight, but she paid no attention, she was totally and forever submerged in this kissing business. Could she get her entire tongue into his mouth if she tried hard? If so, just exactly where back in her head did her own tongue END so that she would know when to declare success?

She put both her hands on the back of Jimmy's head and pulled him to her forcefully: it was what SHE wanted, so she did it! It felt good to take action on her own behalf... and even better because he returned the pressure hungrily. So THIS was what kissing was all about! Whatever had so suddenly happened to the 'grossness' of it all?

She felt his hand on her back, stroking, softly tracing the contours, traveling from side to side, from the top of her shorts to shoulders, velvety touch of fingertips exploring her spine, his big warm palm flat against her side, bumping in slow motion over her ribs. She would have purred if she could, but her mouth was still full. Full of him. Part of her brain realized that his fingers were actually on her SKIN, so his hand must be under her blouse, but the kissing part of her brain vetoed any suggestion that she get concerned about that. All this activity was of a piece, and entirely too wonderful to spoil by thinking consciously about the constituent bits!

Now he was shifting, supporting her back in his hand, holding all her upper body weight on his palm right there between her shoulder-blades. Nice... but she didn't for a millisecond consider breaking this wonderful mouth contact. Right now, she was sucking on his tongue tip, and he was sliding it delicately back and forth, in and out of the funnel of her lips and tongue, and she wasn't breathing too well. She let him settle her onto her back down on the towel.

Then a brief disappointment, he was pulling his face away, perhaps she had done something wrong? But no, he just whispered to her from so close she could feel his breath on her cheek "Is my hand okay there? Remember, no coercion. Stop means stop - say so and I will."

Permission being requested yet again? How silly. Or gallant. Or careful. Whatever. She kept her eyes closed and nodded, then pulled his face down to hers, taking command for a second time, and whispered "Permission granted, you don't need to ask every time, since I know I can tell you to stop and you will. Now, more, please!"

He provided. His hand was moving again, tickling her ribs, sliding freely - and it was beneath her blouse. Kitty-cat strokings, both soothing and exciting. Up and down her side it went, through the dripping-dampness of her pit (should she be embarrassed by all that moisture?), and between them and over her belly, a fingertip dipping into her navel, then the whole palm so gently and so naturally up the left side of her chest.

Wrapped around her mouth's sensations was this incredible mounting tension as his hand approached her breasts... such as they were, , poor underdeveloped little things. Then, still kissing, his fingers touched the crossed band-aids covering her left nipple. She started a little - once again a question - should she be embarrassed or what? The band-aids must seem pretty silly to him, she thought.

Then something unexpected happened. Jimmy released her from the long, long kiss, letting her breathe freely, whispered "I have a couple of beautiful new friends to say hello to!"

She was puzzled, but only for a moment. His hand pushed her blouse hem upwards until the fabric was bunched over her collarbones, and then his head dipped and his breath flowed warm and syrupy over her chest. He paused when he reached the band-aids, then brought his face up in front of her - she flamed pink.

"Whatever for?" he asked. Then, when she stayed silent and embarrassed, he got softly serious: "Julie, I think I understand. These nifty little nipples stand up when you least want them to. Just like my cock does."

She gulped silently - no man had ever used that word to her face, at least not intentionally.

Jimmy continued: "You should be PROUD of them, Julie. They are beautiful little pieces of anatomy, a primary thing that makes you physically a woman. May I? Please?" With that, his face returned to hovering above her breast.

She understood perfectly, nodded, whispered "I TOLD you already. You don't need to ask permission every time!"

His lips nibbled at the ends of the bandages, seeking a purchase for his teeth. Then ZIP, they were gone with a little toss of his head and her nipple was exposed. His mouth closed over it and he sucked and licked and nibbled, and she thought she was going to die right there on the spot. Blue lightening exploded in her head, her breast was sending signals that resembled one of those circular rings they use in monster movies or science class, all filled with dazzling sparks.

So THIS was what all that awful, awful new-risen sensitivity had been aiming at? Why didn't somebody TELL her? But then, she realized that she couldn't possibly have believed it if told - demonstrations were necessary! She arched up against him, pulled his head down hard against her, and as his mouth did wonderful things, her free hand pulled the other pair of bandages off and tossed them aside.

Jimmy lifted his head, kissed her, and whispered "I'm sure I could have managed number two, but thanks for the help. Teamwork is a good thing! And Julie - please, whenever you and I are together from now on, NO BANDAIDS! I want your tits free, visible, and accessible. They are extremely sexy! Okay?"

TITS! She had usable, sensitive, honest-to-god TITS! He'd just said so! She nodded a happy agreement - the implications of "whenever you and I are together..." weren't lost on her! A bit of her brain tee-heed at her and scolded - "Mustn't forget to pick up the bandages afterward, Dearie! We nice little girls mustn't litter!" Maybe she would remember. She lost the thought in a haze as Jimmy shifted his attention from one nipple to the other, alternating until she could hardly think at all. And he'd said TITS! He thought she had TITS! And he LIKED THEM! OhMyGod... first her god-awful feet had been declared pretty, now her chest! Amazing!

At some point, while shifting, he murmured "Such amazingly nice tits you have. Who would have thought? Believe me, Miss Julie my special Soccer Player, they are only going to get larger, and prettier, and MUCH more sensitive!" That made her even warmer, all over.

Finally, Jimmy slowed and just nuzzled, letting her relax and catch up on her respiration. She held his head against her, feeling incredibly warm and content. Eventually, he raised up a little and looked at her, eyes flicking from her rigid nipples to her eyes and back. Over and over. A cool, soft fingertip on her lips and he said "You are one incredible KISSER, and you are absolutely BEAUTIFUL! Whoof!" The compliments made her feel even more glowy inside, in a very different, non-physical way.

He pulled her blouse demurely back into place, a very considerate little thing to do, and it released some of the subconscious "Oh my god what next?" pressure that had been building in her. It certainly signaled a momentary lull, which she could definitely use!

She smiled and said, very politely, "Thank you! You're a good teacher. At least, I think you're good, but I don't have anyone to compare you with. Not on this stuff, like kissing and boobs and nipples and all. I don't think I want anyone else, either. I really like it when you touch me. I think I'm not supposed to like it, at least not this much, I'm quite sure our church would frown intensely on what we're doing... but I don't like that church and I think religion in general is both stupid and dangerous, so I don't care what my folks and their peculiar god might think. I can't help liking your touches and wanting more!"

In one bit of her mind she wondered if he wanted HER to be touching HIM the same way? She'd just have to try, later, and see. Maybe she should ask 'permission' just like he had? Another puzzlement.

Then "You still have strawberry on your moustache. Wonder where that came from?!"

Jimmy flopped onto his back and grinned up at her, saying "Your turn to be on top, I guess. I can be pretty heavy and I wouldn't want to tire you out too fast. Facial cleanup is YOUR problem. If you accept the assignment."

That was interesting, wasn't it... the 'not too fast' bit - because it suggested continuation. Not a bad thought at all.

But then a very selfish, petty thought gushed through her mind and made her pause for half a second. Clearly all these experiences with Jimmy were the ultimate private thing, never to be divulged to anyone, no matter what. They didn't even need to talk about THAT. But- what a wonderful thought, a mind game, to imagine the reactions of her female friends, especially the older girls on the team, the ones who thought Jimmy was so HOT ['hot' was their word, not hers, but she agreed]... wouldn't they just die to know about this!? She could imagine the waves of jealousy it would cause. It would never happen, of course, and she certainly wouldn't tease Jimmy with the idea, but it was sort of evilly fun to think about.

Back at the moustache after her little mental digression, she considered the problem: there was only one acceptable solution. She leaned forward to use her tongue and lips, nibbling and inspecting and washing far beyond what was really needed. It was FUN, this business. Momma cat and kitten? Some kitten! She explored his cheek and the underside of his chin, and found the roughness of the invisible beard-stubble intriguing - the texture almost had a flavor to it!

Her belly had managed to settle down a little, with the cessation of the flood of sensations from her nipples. Her WONDERFUL little nipples, glorious nipples, what a change these few minutes had wrought in her attitude! Did this happen to every woman at some point? And... what about JIMMY's nipples? Were they equally sensitive, and should she, perhaps...? An intriguing idea! More to explore. She hoped the lesson wasn't over yet. Jimmy didn't seem to be in a hurry to leave, and that was good. She pulled away for a second, bracing herself over him on her arms. He smiled at her, and it washed through her like sunshine. Little bits of leaf-filtered sunlight shifted across his features.