Summer Flowers

(The following story is a work of fiction and any reference to any individual, living or dead, is coincidental. This work also contains material of a sexually explicit nature and is not intended for readers under the age of eighteen or where such literature is forbidden under law.

Criticism is solicited and appreciated, but only if you've voted.)

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It all started in the late fall of 1953. I was stationed to Thule, Greenland as part of the Air Force detachment there that provided support for the interceptors based there as well as the early warning radar sites. I had enlisted right out of high school and was away from home for the first time

I formed a great friendship with another fellow in my squadron by the name of Shawn. We spent a great deal of time talking, playing pool, the things that young men do while stationed far away from home at an isolated location. After being there two months I received a "Dear John" letter from my high school girlfriend. I mean, we hadn't had any sex to speak off, heavy petting mostly with a few brief encounters in the back seat of my parents car, but I was devastated by the letter, written so coldly and matter of factly.

Shawn had a younger sister by the name of Shannon, and he, unbeknownst to me, had asked her to write me. In my loneliness and self pity, the arrival of her letter came as quite a surprise. Shawn had not even told me about asking her to write.

Her letter started out quite simply with the obligatory "Dear Douglas" and then went on to talk about little things in her life, her family (the first I know of Shawn's involvement in this matter), her school, friends, etc. An innocuous beginning. And I replied in kind. Speaking a little of home, the base, work, and the local environment. Probably quite dull, but some of my loneliness and pain musty have shown through, because she replied.

Shannon and I wrote each other weekly, our letters probably crossing paths somewhere over the reaches of the northwestern Atlantic. Each week I would look forward to her letter with an eagerness that was far out of proportion to the fact that I was corresponding with a lady that I had never met, and never seen. Although I was curious, I had never remembered to ask for her photograph, and she had never asked for mine. We spoke more and more of our inner selves, our desires, dreams, hidden pains, and fantasies. A bond was forming between she and I, whose strength grew with every letter.

By the time my tour of duty was up, we had decided to meet near her home in upstate New York. A small town by the name of Walkhill. I think that we both anticipated what this first meeting would be like, but were filled with doubts too. Fear and exhilaration all together.

I flew from Thule to Goose Bay, Labrador and then on to New York City, where I caught a train to Newburgh, NY. She was waiting at the station with her fathers car. Quite an adventuresome feat for a young lady in those days.

We embraced, me almost trembling with fear and anticipation, while she seemed quite at ease with the situation. I loaded my duffel and we departed the station, driving towards Walkhill. She drove through the sleepy little town to a hilly wooded area near the Aqueduct. She opened the trunk and brought forth a picnic basket and handing the basket to me, then led me by the hand to a hill overlooking the most beautiful field of summer wild flowers I had ever seen. She took the basket from me and opened it to retrieve a blanket which she spread upon the ground on a level spot on the hillside.

We lay back and talked while gazing into one an other's eyes. She was the most enchanting creature I had ever seen. Soft flowing brown hair, deep expressive brown eyes, a complexion seen only in the 'high fashion' magazines, and a figure to make a mans mouth water. Not voluptuous, but proportioned well with all the curves gently blending, one to the next. She smelled of soap and the wildflowers that surrounded us. And her voice was as melodious as the gentle breeze that occasionally brought her scent to me.

I couldn't help myself, I leaned forward and kissed her. At first tentative, fearing that she would spurn my advances. She kissed me back, her lips soft and gentle.

Our kiss deepened and we both opened our lips, sending our tongues into one an other's mouth, softly probing and tasting. Feeling the texture of each other. The inside of her lips, her teeth, her tongue. All moving in a harmony that was unplanned, but so sensuous. A slight moan must have escaped us both, I know that it did her and we moved closer. Her breast to mine, her hips to mine. Pressing, trying to get ever closer to each other. I couldn't get enough of her, but was still fearful of frightening her. I moved to the base of her ear and kissed my way down her neck to her collar bone and back again as her thrust her breasts towards me and she began to sigh with her head thrown back.

All at once she separated from me and look me deeply in the eyes for just a second. I was paralyzed with fear that I had somehow offended her. She stood up then reached behind her to unzip her dress, all the while looking into my eyes. As she removed her dress, I stood and started removing my clothing. Although I had never been unclothed with a woman before, especially in broad daylight, this was so natural and right. She removed her bra (and thank God that she did, I was always a fumble fingers with those damnable little hooks that hold them in place) and revealed to me the most beautiful pair of breasts that I had ever seen. Upright and so firm. I was busy with my shoes and socks (there is no way a man can remove these with grace) as she removed her panties. I was still removing my pants and shorts as she laid back down on the blanket and raised her arms to me.

I sank into her embrace as a drowning sailor sinks in the sea. Welcoming the embrace of his lover, but frightened of the unknown. As we once again embraced and kissed I recall how she was so excited, but at the same time somehow calm. An inner patience radiated from her that told me to "slow down" too. I once again allowed my lips to travel down her neck, to her breast bone and eventually to one of her breasts. As I ran my tongue around her nipple and alternately suckled her, she gently placed her hands on the back of my head, as it I were a baby that she was helping guide to her breast, and she was. First to one nipple, then the other. I needed to experience all of this woman so I trailed my kisses and tongue touches lower. Now, I have to say here that up to this time I had never performed oral sex. I had heard about it, you know "eating pussy" and the other barracks slang terms, but had not ever really 'done' it.

I continued lower until my tongue encountered the top of her sex. I remember her smell to this day, a musk mingled with the smell of the wild flowers that surrounded us. Enticing and exciting. I licked her from the bottom of her sex to the top, slowly and gently. She rewarded me with a gentle moan and an arching of her hips. Her hands were once more upon my head, and with gentle pressures guided me to those spots and those actions that seemed to please her the most. And I watched as her sex began to swell and open before my eyes. Like a beautiful flower being nurtured into full bloom. All the while providing me with the nectar of her being. A liquid at once salty, and sweet, and musky, and all the flavors of a woman in full bloom. And at the center of her was a bud that would bring jealousy to the most glorious rose. As she guided me, her reactions became stronger. I looked up at her, her chest and breasts became flushed, as did her face. She would occasionally raise her head and shake it slowly back and forth, her hair gently swaying in time to the rises of her hips.

She opened her eyes and looked down and me and said, "It's time Doug, the time has come." She didn't have to explain further.

I began my advance back up her body, sliding slowly until we were eye to eye once more and she whispered "Enter me my love." I kissed her deeply as my manhood slipped easily into her. No clumsy groping, a perfect alignment of our bodies. Our kiss broke and we once more gazed into each others eyes as I began to stroke into her. With each of my strokes she seemed to open herself more to me, her legs wrapped around the back of my legs. Her rhythm matching mine as I slowly stroked inside her. Both of our breathing became faster as our passion built. I raised myself above her, as you would do with your arms fully extended while doing push-ups and looked into her eyes as she returned my gaze.

That's when she said "Now." Gently telling me to join her. She drew her knees up and out crossing her ankles behind my back, allowing me to penetrate to her very depths, the tip of my manhood resting against her cervix, the mouth of her womb. As my climax overtook me, I froze in place, no longer stroking, but allowing the tip of my penis to rest against her cervix. And as the first spurt of my seed entered her, she cried softly "Oh , oh" , Her eyes half closed and she contracted and dipped her cervix into my growing pool of seed, rubbing her cervix against me as she did so. She responded to each new flood of semen from me with a small cry and a contraction.

Time had stood still for me, I don't even think that I was breathing. As she used her cervix to stimulate me to produce more semen for her, I was shaken to my core, for along with my seed she was drawing from me my soul. All of my pain, and loneliness, and every hurt and injustice that I had ever suffered. She was taking this into her self, and changing it, refining it, and giving me back myself without the pain and all the other negative feelings that I had harbored. This may have taken a second or an eternity, I had now way of knowing. But I did know that something very wondrous had just happened.

With the passing of the peak of our passion, I was still raised above her, looking into her eyes. She said "Put your weight on me Doug." I lowered myself to my elbows, not wanting to do anything to injure this precious jewel and she said "No, Doug, put all your weight upon me." She pulled me down with her arms until my full weight rested upon her and as the tension left my body, I could feel her vagina softly contract, and as she continued with these small milkings of me, I could feel more semen leaking from me into her and could once again marvel at the wondrous change that she was working on me. I felt as if I were melting through her, into her and being purified as I did so. Her wisdom in these matters was not to be denied.

And in that purification, I understood that this was much more than the union of two people, or of two souls. That this was the beginning of the creation of two more beings. The being that was to become us, and the being that was to become our first born.