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(_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-'
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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Give Me That Old Time Religion Plainsong - 5
by Fowler Gray (fowlergray@yahoo.com)
***
Jake learns the wisdom behind the question in
Ecclesiastes: If two lie together, then they have heat:
but how can one be warm? (Fm)
***
Chapter 5: Plainsong 5: What Would You Have Me Do
To quench any flames before they start raging, this is
a work of fiction. The author does not espouse the
pseudo-theology contained in this story nor is he an
adherent to its practices.
All of the usual legal disclaimers regarding the laws
of your jurisdiction apply to reading and/or
downloading this story, which pursuant to the Berne
Convention, is copyrighted with all rights reserved by
its author, Fowler Gray, unless explicitly indicated.
Reproduction except for personal use and reposting
without the author's written permission is prohibited.
This story may not be reproduced on any commercial
site.
Please pay attention to the story codes because they
may change with each Plainsong.
A few readers have commented (complained) some chapters
of OTR move too slow and don't have enough sex. If
you're looking for a quick and dirty stroke story (not
that there's anything wrong with those), OTR probably
isn't for you.
As opposed to a short story, OTR is a novella where the
characters will change and evolve. Some chapters will
be slower and have less outright sex than others.
Some of the women who have read OTR have written to
tell me they have been put off by its religious tenets
and seeming misogynism. Again I can only say OTR is a
story about transformation and growth.
While I hope all of you will stick around for the ride,
I'll understand if some of you don't.
Reader feedback plays an important role in keeping this
story going. It's not necessarily a pathetic attempt
at validation of my efforts (although I'd be lying if I
said there wasn't at least an element of that
involved), the feedback often sparks other ideas that
keep the creative juices flowing.
All that being said, it's also nice to know your work
has found an appreciative audience. Writing is a
lonely, solitary profession. Getting feedback for what
you've written is the difference between a writer's
literary efforts being masturbation or intercourse.
So remember Celeste's Blow Job Principle which states
"If a person expects to get a second blow job, the
recipient should make the giver glad to have performed
the first." Think of this story, or any story on this
site, as the written equivalent of the author giving
you head (a handy, gender-neutral phrase encompassing
both cunnilingus and fellatio) and be sure to say thank
you.
Thank you's for and comments on Gimme That Old Time
Religion can be sent to this email address:
fowlergray@yahoo.com
***
The story codes for OTR5: Hand In Hand (MF)
Give Me That Old Time Religion
An Oratorio In Several Plainsongs
By Fowler Gray
The Fifth Plainsong: Hand in Hand
No question about it, I was lost in uncharted territory
without a map or a compass.
I didn't know the first thing about seducing a woman
and anyway Toddie was supposed to "fuck at the drop of
a hat." I suppose when we got back to her apartment I
could just drop a hat and see what happened but somehow
I didn't think that was going to be enough to sweep her
off her feet and into bed. The "Secrets of a Successful
Marriage" book my dad had given me was a "how-to"
manual, not a "how to get them to" guidebook so that
wouldn't be any help either.
Desperate for at least a little breathing room to solve
the problem, I resorted to the time-honored technique
known to every man alive: "When in doubt, bluff like
hell."
The third time I'd gone out with Debbie she'd told me
she liked the difference she saw in me. "You're more
self-assured than you were before. That's good. Women
like confident men, confidence is sexy." At least that
gave me a starting point.
With poise I really didn't feel I entered the fray.
"Did I tell you about the special qualities of my
watch," I asked Toddie. "It's state of the art you
know."
"That's just an old Timex," she said dismissively.
"You can buy one of those at Brown's Five and Ten
anytime."
Shaking my head I said, "Not one of these. It uses
alpha waves to telepathically talk with me."
"All right Jake I'll bite. What's your telepathic watch
telling you now?"
"Well, it says you're not wearing any panties."
"Looks like you wasted your money then because I'm
wearing panties. You know that because you saw me in
them when I pulled on my shorts."
Frowning, I started tapping on the watch face. "Damn
thing must be running fast again."
Toddie broke out a reluctant smile. "Ok you got me
with that one but that doesn't mean you're going to get
me into bed."
It was at that point my inner Mr. Spock asserted
itself. Looking at it logically, Toddie not only was
willing to sleep with me, she wanted to. Why else have
me over for the weekend? At the same time, she needed
to be different than Debbie so rather than racing right
to sex, she wanted to come at it slowly, make me
"seduce" her, an outcome she'd do her best to help me
achieve. All I had to do was make a decent effort,
keep from being a bigger jerk than I normally was and
her natural impulses would take over. I could do this.
After hopping off the oak, I took her slim waist in my
hands and lifted her up. "Let's walk up the creek to
Mattson Bridge," I said as I gently lowered her down in
the water, gently maintaining my hands on her abdomen
even after her feet had reached the creek bed. "It's
only about a half-mile away. Then we can head back to
your place and figure out what to do about dinner."
As we strolled up the creek, I was careful to maintain
physical contact with Toddie. Nothing overtly sexual,
just casual touching to keep her aware of our bodies;
brushing a fallen leaf from her hair and letting my
fingers stroke her cheek along the way, rubbing her
back between her shoulder blades, leaning forward when
she talked to me then leaning back to answer,
intertwining her fingers with mine and making as much
eye contact as I could.
I reviewed our earlier conversation, especially her
answers to the "Spanish Inquisition," looking for
things I could work with to help set the stage for our
lovemaking, starting with her penchant for dirty jokes.
"John's just graduated from clinical psychology and
opens his first office," I started. "After some
successful advertising he's astounded to have nearly 50
people wanting to be in group therapy. John decides to
rent a big hall and invite the entire group. To break
the ice, and to get the therapy started, John decides
to ask a show of hands how often the attendees had sex.
First he asks for a show of hands of all the people who
had sex almost every night. A modest number of hands go
up. He then asks, how many had sex once a week? This
time a larger number of hands shoot skyward. John then
asks how many had sex once or twice a month? Again, a
few hands go up.
"After John polls his group a couple more times he
notices one guy sitting off to the side with this huge
beaming grin on his face but he also knows the guy
hasn't raised his hand yet. So John asks him how often
he has sex. The guy says, 'Once a year!' Stunned, John
asks him 'Why are you so happy if you're only getting
laid once a year?" The grinning guy responds,
'Tonight's the night!'"
The dirty joke fest went on until we reached Mattson
Bridge, each of us taking turns, as before each trying
to top the other. Along the way Toddie began to return
my touches; letting her thighs rub for the briefest
moment against mine, stroking the back of my neck,
massaging the small of my back, her fingers sneaking
just under the waistband of my shorts. Moreover, she
smiled a lot, big smiles creasing a relaxed face, upper
and lower teeth exposed.
Figuring the pump was primed by enough dirty jokes, I
moved the conversation on to other topics as we walked
back to her apartment, always concentrating on Toddie,
what she said and how she was reacting to me, using her
responses to gauge my next action.
Our discussion continued though dinner, a medium pizza
with pepperoni, mushrooms and sausage from De Milo's,
Toddie joking if we ordered a large we'd have to eat it
on the landing. We washed the hot pizza down with
cheap Chianti, the dry wine's rough bite cutting
through the grease that was the hallmark of every
Italian pie from De Milo's, thick enough to soak into
the box and turn the cardboard transparent.
While I did what little washing up there was to do,
Toddie stood next to me, her head cocked a little to
the left, one foot behind the other with her hips ever
so faintly pushed forward. During dinner she'd been
running her hand up and down her glass of wine and now
she was playing with the plastic bracelets on her arm,
stroking them so they turned in small circles around
her wrist. I decided it was time to try to move things
forward.
When I was in junior high we had an annual Halloween
Festival. Each classroom used for a different
attraction. One might be a haunted house, while another
would be turned into a miniature cider mill.
In seventh grade I'd been selected to be the gypsy
fortuneteller, complete with an old red handkerchief
wrapped about my head, a clip-on gold hoop earring
clamped on my ear, and several teeth blacked out. I'd
taken the job seriously, going down to the local
library and checking out several books on divination
and foretelling the future.
Mom thought I was taking things a bit too seriously.
"It's only make-believe, Jake. Nobody will expect you
to really be able to tell their fortune. It's just for
fun." I never did get her to understand that, even
with make-believe, the more realistic it was the more
fun it was. I spent days pouring over two books on
palmistry, not because I believed in it but because I
wanted to do the best job of faking it I could.
My stint as a fortuneteller was a hit, despite the fact
my "gypsy accent" was terrible and my "crystal ball"
was actually a magic eight ball. Not only was I asked
to do it again when I was in eighth grade but I made a
return appearance in my freshman and sophomore years as
well, finally retiring and returning my earring to
Mom's jewelry box when I was a junior because it just
wasn't "cool" to be having fun with seventh and eighth
graders.
I suffer from a condition Dad calls "sponge brain." My
mind soaks up some of the most esoteric trivia
possible, often crowding out far more practical and
constructive knowledge I might actually be able to draw
on. Tonight though I was going to put some of that
arcane information to good use.
"Ever had your fortune told," I asked Toddie,
remembering her interest in astrology.
"Sure. There's a lady over in Casper who does charts
and tarot card readings. I had my chart done last year
and she's done a couple of card readings for me."
Alright. The door had just opened wide for me; now all
I had to do was stride through.
"I'm a pretty accomplished palm reader. How'd you like
to have me predict your future?"
Toddie gave a disdainful snort before answering my
question. "Come on Jake you can do better than that. I
show you my hand; you give me some mumbo-jumbo about
how we're fated to sleep together and then we hop in
the sack and fuck like rabbits. Please..."
In my most serious manner, I reassured Toddie this was
no cheap parlor trick designed to fool her into
sleeping with me.
"A lot of people laugh at palmistry, I don't. I know it
reveals things about people and not only their future
but also their past. Tell you what," I continued.
"I'll make you a deal. You let me read your palm and
if you think I'm just making things up, saying crap
like 'people can't get to truly know each other until
their bodies know each other,' then you can throw me
out of your apartment.
"We're going to talk about sex," I warned her. "It's a
major aspect of anyone's personality but if I start
giving you come-on lines instead of insights, well
it'll be a sad and lonely bike ride home."
"What's the other side of the deal? If I don't throw
you out of the apartment, you get to sleep with me,"
she asked skeptically.
"No, the other side of the deal is maybe you learn
something you didn't know. Nothing else, no obligations
of any sort. What about it? Are you game? I'll make it
even fairer, I'll tell you how it works before I do the
reading. That should help you tell whether or not I'm
bullshitting you."
"Ok, you're on but I have to warn you I'm a tough
audience," a smile returning to her face as she
gracefully gave in.
While Toddie lay sprawled across the daybed, I prepared
the apartment for her reading, closing the drape over
the front window, shutting off all of the lights, save
for a single gooseneck lamp on the chest by the daybed,
and replacing them with the soft shimmering lights from
candles to give the room a necessary element of shadow
and mystery.
To further develop the atmosphere I wanted, I lit a
cone of sandalwood incense I had found on the chest,
its soft woody smoke perfuming the room's air with the
delicate scent of rose, jasmine and earth, shutting off
the box fan to allow the aroma to linger. For my final
touch, I tuned the small radio in the kitchen to the
Bearskin Rug show on one of the local stations, a music
program playing not rock but "tunes for lovers," mainly
orchestrations of "sensuous" classical music. Satisfied
by the setting, I turned my attention to preparing
Toddie to be receptive to her reading.
Without asking her permission, I began removing all her
jewelry; bracelets, watch, even the ankh around her
throat because "their aura can throw off my
perceptions." Nonsense of course, but I wanted to get
her subliminal acceptance of the fact I was not only
allowed but also encouraged to undress her.
"Everything matters in palmistry," I explained, giving
Toddie a basic primer in palm reading. "The size of
your hand, its shape, color, temperature and texture,
they're all important indicators of who you were, who
you are and who you will be. Even the way you move your
hand while I do your reading reveals something about
you. It's all very connected.
"The hand you use to write with is your dominant hand,
that's the one that shows the actual manifestation and
realization of the inner you."
I asked Toddie to give me the hand she wrote with. She
held out her right.
"There are four major lines on your palm: heart, head,
life and fate," I said, holding her hand cupped softly
in my left. "The heart line shows how you feel, the
head line how you think, the life line how much
physical vitality you have and your fate line how
chance and external events will affect your life."
As I explained the nature of each line, I gently ran
the edge of my fingernail along their paths, eliciting
a tiny shiver from Toddie.
"Beside the four major lines, there are two minor
lines, the sun line and the love line, which is about
relationships, not sex. On the edge of your palm,
underneath your little finger are the mounts of the
Moon and Pluto, which tell us more about your love life
and relationships. Your Venus mount is underneath your
thumb and it's all about your sexuality," I said an
impious grin on my face as I massaged each of Toddie's
mounts with my index finger.
"Clear deep and unbroken lines indicate strong
predispositions in an area, lines that are criss-
crossed, broken, faint show weaker tendencies. Raised
mounts mean strength in an area," I finished, knowing
she'd be lucky to remember a quarter of my explanation.
Nevertheless, the fact I'd taken the time to give her
the so many details would add an air of legitimacy to
my findings.
Having finished my tutorial, I began my reading. I
positioned Toddie on my left, turning her body at a
slight angle to mine, squeezing her tight against me.
With some longhaired piano music playing liltingly in
the background, I took one last look into her eyes, her
dilated pupils and slightly open mouth revealing her
interest, before turning my attention to her hand.
For five minutes, I turned her hand this way and that,
stroking and caressing it and making little noises of
surprise, satisfaction and concern as I did so.
Throughout it all I leaned unobtrusively against
Toddie, delighted when she did the same with me, each
of us adjusting our positions to remain pressed
together. Without the air circulation the fan provided
the apartment was getting progressively hotter, our
twined bodies rapidly gaining a thin sheen of sweat.
Still holding her hand, I began to give Toddie her
reading, starting with the shape of her right hand.
"There's four types of hands: air, earth, fire and
water. You've got 'fire' hands. Lots of lines and very
firm warm skin. People with fire hands are positive,
confident and inventive, always willing to try
something new or take the lead. They also bring those
qualities to their lovemaking. The fact you have small
hands relative to the size of your body shows you
prefer action to worrying about what might happen
later.
"The back of your hand is very delicate. That's a sign
you're romantic and very sensitive to physical touch.
The skin is smooth and warm, means you're warm hearted
and that you enjoy sex just for the sheer fun of it."
Toddie raised one eyebrow high as she said, "So far all
I'm hearing about is sex. Should I get your bag for you
or is there more to this?"
"Toddie, I told you there'd be some discussion of sex.
You're a very sexual person, that comes thorough loud
and clear in my reading but there's more and not just
about sex."
"Such as," she asked pleasantly but with a skeptical
tinge in her voice.
"OK, there's your head line. It's separated from your
life line showing real enthusiasm for life and you're
confident in how you're living it.
"It's a shorter line than the others. Means you're
intelligent but more intuitive than reflective. It
swoops down towards the heel of your palm, again
confirming you're imaginative and creative. There's
several places where it's 'islanded.' Islands in your
head line are another sign of sensitivity."
I watched as Toddie unconsciously nodded in agreement.
So far, so good.
"Your head line is broken in one place very close to
the heel. That shows something happened when you were
young that changed your way of thinking. There's also a
cross in about the same place indicating a crisis
around that time. Your head line isn't the only place
this shows up but we'll talk more about that later."
Toddie sat a little straighter as I made this
pronouncement, letting me know I was on the right
track.
"You've got a very deep fate line. Events control your
life more than you do, even though you don't
necessarily like it that way. You've got several
breaks in the line indicating changes in your career or
location. The good news is it says you'll have the help
of others to achieve the success you want."
A quick look at Toddie's face showed an amused interest
in my reading. Time to take it up a notch.
"Close to the heel your fate line touches your life
line and then separates. This means you put someone
else's interests ahead of your own for a period in your
life. As close as it is to the heel, I'd say it was as
a child, maybe a teenager but not later than 14 or 15."
Once again Toddie stiffened, a sure tell there was
something there, something worth exploring further.
"The lines separate again, so you regained the control
you gave up. With all the other signs I'd say there was
some sort of childhood trauma, maybe even involving
your parents."
Her eyes narrowed as I made my last statement, another
indicator something had happened when she was a kid,
although I still didn't know what. Whatever it was, it
could still put Toddie on edge all these years later.
"Your fate line has some breaks higher up toward your
fingers. These breaks would indicate troubles ahead but
they're very short so you'll easily overcome these
difficulties." The change of subject and the positive
reinforcement of her abilities caused Toddie to relax
again. "At least one of them corresponds with a change
in career or location."
"You have a very interesting life line. It's deeply
etched and well formed which says you're enthusiastic
about life and put a lot of effort into living it to
its fullest. It leads outward so you're bold about life
and exploring life's possibilities. In some places it's
doubled so you have an active sex life, not that there
was any doubt of that," I said moving still closer to
her. "And it also swings wide around your Mount of
Venus meaning you have an expansive and giving nature
in matters of love.
"The heart line is all about your emotions and how
they're expressed, including love. Yours is very long;
shows you got a lot of emotion in your personality.
It's curved so you're sentimental, intuitive and you
openly express your feelings. It's deep so you're
comfortable with your emotions. It's deeper than your
head line which means your heart rules you more than
your head.
"You've got dual forks in your heart line. Means you
long to establish deep and lasting relationships but
you have problems letting go of your independence. The
line touches both sides of your palm. That tells us
you've had and will have a lot of different
relationships. You've got quite a few spots of puffy
redness that indicating periods of great passion.
"I can also read several breaks in your heart line, so
you've had some disappointments in love and friendship,
one of them fairly recently, I'd say within the last
three months or so.
"In some places the line goes upward meaning you're
flirtatious by nature but three times it dips down,
again that's a sign you've had some troubles in the
past but the upward swings show you've put them behind
you.
"There's an island close to the heel of your palm and
your head line. Remember when I read your head and fate
lines I saw you had had some childhood problems. This
island tells us it left you with a feeling of being
unloved or abandoned. Putting 'm all together I'd say
it was some trouble between your parents. Maybe they
even separated and you had to choose which one to live
with or they chose for you and chose wrong. I can't be
sure about that without reading their palms as well but
I can tell something happened and you never really got
over it."
For the first time, I saw Toddie nonplussed. Pulling
entirely away from me, she got up off the daybed and
asked skeptically, "Who told you about my parents? What
did they tell you?"
Jackpot. My hunch about some trouble between her
parents had been right on.
"No one told me about your parents," I responded, my
voice heavy with sincerity. "I really don't know
anything about your parents other than what your palm
reading told me, that and what little you told me while
we were playing the game."
"Swear to me that's true Jake," Toddie asked, a hint of
tartness in her request. "That you didn't know about
them before you came here."
I had no problem honestly swearing to Toddie that no
one had told me anything about her parents, reminding
her that we'd really only met about seven hours
earlier, and that all of my knowledge came from my
reading.
The secret to a good con is always letting the mark con
themselves. While my fortune telling wasn't a total
hoax, since most of what I was telling her was
accurate, I didn't feel the need to reveal my reading
itself was hooey, a clever concoction of vague
generalizations she could adjust to fit her own self-
image and experiences.
Which of us didn't feel unloved at one time or another
as a kid? Propping the whole act up was the specific
information she herself had given me. That's how real
fortune telling works; you don't tell the customers
about themselves, they tell you.
"God, maybe you weren't putting me on when you started
this whole palm reading business," she said, looking at
me as though I was a guru who held the key to spiritual
enlightenment.
"I thought it was just a clever way to get into my
pants, you'd spin me a story about how destiny had
brought us together and we'd be foolish to fight
against the fates. But my folks, I've never told anyone
here about what happened with my folks and yet you look
at my hand and you know what happen. Shit, you're
making a believer of me Jake."
The other secret to running a good con is not to take
the mark too far. It was time to reel in Toddie a
little without destroying too much of the illusion.
"Look, the fact is I really don't know what happened
with your parents," I told Toddie. "Your reading didn't
tell me specifically what went on, only that something
did and roughly when it occurred.
"Like I said, all this stuff ties in together. By
themselves, individual lines and mounts don't tell us
much. Put them together, see where they reinforce each
other and you've got a reading. I guess from your
reaction, my reading was pretty accurate."
Toddie put her hands, fingers laced together, behind
her head, and began running them from her neck up to
the crown of her head and back down again, turning the
ends of her fire-touched hair into a bird's nest of
snarls.
"Yeah, pretty accurate," she said, "right down to the
reason. I was 14 when my parents separated.
"Look Jake, do you mind if we don't talk about it. It
was sort of a bummer back then. And I need a flashback
thanks. I'm just glad you got it from your reading and
not from some town gossip.
"So," she said, perhaps a shade too cheerfully, "what
other mysteries of the unknown are you going to
reveal?"
"The next secret is that you need to relax and regain
your center," I told her. "Take a deep breath and let
it out slowly. That's right," I said watching her
closely. "Now do it again and then one more time.
"Feel better? More relaxed? Good, now cuddle up next to
me and I'll finish the rest of your reading."
Toddie scooted over on the daybed until we were again
skin-to-skin. This time I put my arm around her
shoulders, allowing my hand to drop down along against
her ribcage, still well away from the flat expanse of
her chest. Even with my palm resting lightly on her
body I could feel the pulsing of her heart.
"Well then," I intoned trying turn to the reading away
from her parents and back to sex, "your sun line is
deep and full. That's a signal you have a real talent
for making friends and the self-confidence to make the
most of your abilities and achieve success.
"Your love line confirms the facts your other lines
revealed. When a love line is light and fine with many
breaks like yours is it means you've had more casual
affairs than deeply committed relationships."
"That's certainly true," she said in a self-deprecating
tone. "Anything else?"
"Yeah, there's still your mounts. Your Pluto mount is
raised above the center of your palm, so you have a
great resiliency about you. It's not always going to be
easy for you but you have the ability and the
determination to rebound from life's difficulties.
That's important Toddie." I said offering her positive
reinforcement. "Remember your fate line said you'd
overcome all your troubles and there would always be
friends who would stand by you and help you. Your sun
line and your Venus mount agree."
I gave her a moment to digest this.
"Your Venus mount is very fleshy and firm, indicting a
love of pleasure and a very strong sexual nature.
You've got prominent horizontal lines across the mount
which means your lovers find you charming," Toddie
giving me a genuine smile when she heard that, "and
you've got a crescent shape on that mount meaning you
are very seductive as well as a triangle which
indicates you've had at least one extramarital affair,
something we both already knew."
Mentally crossing my fingers, I went for the gold.
"You're an interesting and intriguing sex partner, very
creative in how you make love or at least that's what
your raised moon mount means, while the raised penile
mount in my pants indicates that I hope to have a
chance to find out whether that's true or not. That
part of my reading was very uncertain."
My eyes focused on her as I waited anxiously for her
reaction. Had I been attentive and charming enough to
win her over? Forcing myself to breathe slowly, I sat
still, a plaintiff waiting the jury's verdict.
"I think you've earned your chance Jake, more than
earned it in fact," she responded, the corner of her
mouth lifting in a wry smile. "Is my reading over now?"
Keep cool, I reminded myself even as a wide smile
illuminated my face. Don't spaz out now.
"Not quite, I left the most interesting piece of the
reading until last."
"More interesting than my 'strong sexual nature,'" she
asked twirling her hair between her fingers.
"Well maybe not that interesting," I said, obviously
running my eyes up and down her body, "but interesting
all the same and with great application to tonight."
Without giving her a chance to speak I continued,
"Earlier I told you your hands indicated you were a
'fire' person but there were also traces of an affinity
for water. Unusual since water extinguishes fire but
they were there or at least I think they were. If you
wouldn't mind I'd like you to help me find out, sort of
an experiment. Of course it'd be solely in the cause of
improving my palmistry skills."
"Oh, of course it would be," Toddie said playfully.
"And just what would I have to do in your little
'experiment?'"
"Not a lot, just let me immerse you in water and see
what happens."
"Come on Jake, I don't want to walk back to the creek
just so you can dunk me. I've already been baptized,
thanks just the same."
Taking her hand in mine, I raised Toddie's thin body
off the daybed. "No, I had something far closer in
mind. The shower at the end of your apartment should do
just fine and it's a two-fer, we get to test my
findings and get clean at the same time."
Our mouths met in silent agreement, our warm breath
scented by the Chianti and pizza. Hands moving with
ardor, we stripped each other of clothing, discarded
garments marking the trail to the shower. As we moved,
I could feel her heat radiate through my skin, my dick
throbbing as though Toddie already cradled it in her
palm.
Water running in the shower behind us, I slid my hands
down her ribcage, hooking my thumbs over the elastic
band of her panties and rolling them downward, careful
not to catch any of her public hair in the fabric. But
there was no thicket to snag, just pale white flesh
with only the barest hint of red stubble visible, her
crotch a wheat field just after harvest.
My complete astonishment at seeing Toddie shorn smooth
stopped me dead in my tracks and brought an amused
laugh from Toddie.
"Usually I'm hairy as a goblin down there but I thought
I'd be 'creative,' so I shaved it a couple of weeks
ago. You like?"
I told her I'd never seen anything like it before, my
admission bringing another tinkling laugh from her.
"And just how many unshaven pussies have you seen
then," she asked. "I'd put the over/under at one."
Ruefully, I admitted she was right. "But I do like the
way yours looks."
"You better because it's a bitch to live with. If I
don't shave every day it gets itchy, and if I do I get
razor burn."
"Poor baby, want me to kiss it and make it better," I
asked with a leer in my voice.
"We'll get to that later, Jake. Right now I'd like to
take that shower. It's getting pretty hot in here since
you turned the fan off and this steam isn't helping.
I'm starting to feel a little dizzy."
As small as the bathroom was, it didn't take long for
the billows of steam rolling out from the shower to
fill the area. I was feeling a little dizzy myself,
although whether it was from the steam or the sight of
Toddie's no longer bearded clam was a toss up.
Either way the steam was condensing on the other
surfaces in the bathroom, creating a slick film of
water everywhere. I turned on the small exhaust fan and
then gestured to Toddie to precede me into the shower.
"After you, my lady," I said, holding the plastic
shower curtain open.
"Thank you, kind gentleman," she replied in a mock
simper, placing the tip of her left index finger under
her chin while bobbing her head to one side.
It was even hotter inside the shower than outside, the
swirling clouds of vapor creating a London pea soup fog
inside the stall. I asked Toddie if I should turn the
temperature down. "Nah, I like it like this."
The stall was bigger than a phone booth but not by
much, with barely enough room for one person at a time,
let alone two. Siamese twins couldn't have been any
closer than Toddie and I were, not that I was
complaining, but for both of us to wash up would
require some Olympic-class acrobatics.
After some false starts, we managed to wriggle into a
stance that seemed to work; me with my back to the
rushing shower, Toddie snuggled up against me, her
firm, slippery buttocks pressing against my jumped up
manhood. It was arousing and maddening at the same
time since even a circus contortionist would be hard
pressed to find a way to have sex in this confined
space.
I began with her hair, emptying handfuls of water over
her head, running those thick red locks between my
fingers as I massaged viscous green apple shampoo onto
her scalp, listening to Toddie's deep sigh of
satisfaction as I worked the lather well into her
tresses.
Leaning backwards, I pulled Toddie with me, allowing
the water from the showerhead to rinse the shampoo from
her hair while being careful to keep my balance. The
last thing I wanted was a repetition of the fiasco at
the creek.
Using a duck-shaped yellow sponge I did my best to wash
Toddie's front, the jasmine-scented soap producing tons
of froth, epaulets of rainbow-colored bubbles hugging
her shoulders, tickling my nose when they popped as I
kissed and licked the back of her neck and ears.
Guiding my hands where the sounds Toddie was making,
satisfied susurrations when I was on the path of
righteousness, low gruff growls when I strayed.
Paying great attention to Toddie's breasts, I circled
their areola, feeling not the subdermal fat of a full
and heavy mammary but rather the xylophone of rib bones
that supported the hard nub of her nipples, listening
to her sibilant intake of breath as I rolled them
between my fingers.
As my palms slid down the taunt expanse of her abdomen,
Toddie twisted her head around, her open mouth
demanding a kiss. Our tongues danced a lingual
tarantella. Toddie's legs opened wider, welcoming my
questing fingers into the slippery folds and crevasses
of her womanhood. Waves of pleasure washed over both of
us as I gently toyed with the hood of her clit,
occasionally pinching the bud of flesh underneath.
Pulling her mouth from mine, Toddie broke off our kiss.
"You've done enough for now, let me wash you."
Cautiously we maneuvered until we had reversed our
positions, Toddie's breath puffing softly against my
neck as she began to wash my hair, slowly pulling
handfuls upward until my scalp stretched away from my
skull.
I gave myself over to the sheer pleasure of Toddie's
flesh sliding against mine, every muscle in my body
kissed by the hot water cascading down, its liquid
warmth both soothing and invigorating.
Now it was Toddie's turn to tease and arouse; her damp
hair feathered across my shoulders, lips nuzzling the
base of my neck, fingers twisting my nipples until they
rose in silent protest.
Abandoning my chest, her right hand moved up to my
face, her thumb circling my mouth, brushing insistently
against my lips until they parted to allow entry. As I
suckled and chewed on her thumb, Toddie's left hand
descended to my groin, taking a slippery and tenuous
grip on my engorged member, leisurely sliding up and
down my pole, masturbating me in rhythm with my
sucking.
With an audible "pop" Toddie pulled her thumb from my
mouth, returning her right hand to behind my back. She
spider-walked her way down my spine, whispering in my
ear. "I know what you want, you dirty boy," she said
huskily. "You want to put your big thing up my little
ass, don't you?" The action of her left hand sped up as
she interrogated me.
"You want to take me from behind and ride me deep and
hard. You want me on my knees with my nose buried in
your pubic hair and your balls resting on my chin. You
want to fuck me until I can't walk and then fuck me
some more. Come on Jake, that's what you want isn't it.
You want to take me everyway you can and twice on
Sunday. You can be honest with me Jake, I won't mind.
That's what you want isn't it?"
I croaked out a "yes," trying to concentrate on
anything but sex. I didn't want to shoot my wad in the
shower. I wanted to save it for when it counted, when I
was deep in whichever orifice of Toddie's body I was
using.
"You love it when I talk dirty to you," she said, her
hand moving with the speed of a hummingbird. "I can
tell because your dick is pulsing like a gas pump hose
during a fill-up. But I'll do more than talk dirty
Jake, I'll do all those disgusting things you've been
ashamed of thinking about even in your fantasies. We'll
do them together Jake and it'll be fun. Just wait until
you see how inventive I can really be. Don't worry
about being too rough. I'm in the mood for rough
tonight."
I couldn't take it any longer. The tip of my dick was
tingling and my toes were being to curl. Just a few
more strokes and I'd be painting the wall of the stall
with sperm. Desperate and disregarding the dangers or
the consequences I spun out of Toddie's grip, my wild
gyrations tearing open the shower curtain allowing the
water to spill out onto the bathroom floor.
Savagely I took Toddie in my arms, mashing my lips
against hers as though I was an alcoholic and she was
the last few drops at the bottom of the bottle. We
exchanged hungry, deep, insistent kisses. Her inflamed
passion matching mine, she was a succubus bent on
devouring my soul with her inhalations.
Lust ran through my body like fire through a
lumberyard. I hardly winced as Toddie ran her nails
down my back, peeling off strips of skin, leaving red
stinging stripes in their wake.
Lifting her off her feet, I stepped out of the shower
carrying Toddie with me. Quickly striding to the
daybed, I unceremoniously deposited Toddie on her back,
forcing her legs wide open as I sprawled heavily
between them.
Pinning her arms down with my hands, I kissed the
smooth slope of her throat, lips firmly caressing the
long sinuous line of her throat, tonguing the hollow at
its base, reveling in the salt tang clinging to her
skin even after the shower.
Descending further down her sylphlike torso, I reached
her breasts, even in arousal as flat as a piece of
paper. My tongue assailed her nipples, circling them
with a feathery touch, watching them crinkle in
response as I dampened their flesh with my saliva, her
brown eyes softly unfocused as she gave herself over to
the moment. I bit down, not too hard but hard enough to
draw a squeak, but no protest, from Toddie. Emboldened,
I moved down the level plane of her stomach, leaving
shallow tooth marks as I passed.
As my head drew level with her crotch, I released
Toddie's arms. She used her newfound freedom to reach
down and push my head closer to her pussy, scraping my
face on the five o'clock shadow of stubble crowning her
mons.
Her labia presented itself to me, a thick petaled
flower swollen and glistening with the proof of her
arousal, exposed and vulnerable in its nakedness. The
scent of her filled my nose, lightly musky with a
strong overlay of ... strawberries?
Squirming, Toddie wriggled back and forth until she
could prop her back up on a pillow. Her hands left my
head to pull her labia apart, love dew seeping from the
darker depths of her vagina. She hissed when my tongue
touched her clit before dipping inside, swabbing her
inner tunnel only to retreat to flatten itself against
her labia once again.
One lick was all it took; Toddie's cunt not only
smelled like strawberries, it tasted like them too.
She moaned in total wantonness as I returned to her
clit, slipping two fingers into her slick center, her
labia stiffening as blood rushed into them. Arching her
back, Toddie thrust her crotch at me, wordlessly
imploring me to bring her to orgasm.
Lost in her taste and smell, my brain besotted with
Toddie, I closed my eyes and concentrated on bringing
her off, plumbing her depths with my fingers as she
ground herself against my mouth, her clit standing
straight out of its hood as I swiped my tongue back and
forth against its surface.
The sheet underneath us grew sodden with her juices as
I continued to suck, lick and thrust at Toddie's cunt,
her breath coming faster now, short little pants, her
body reduced to electrified nerve endings, aching for
release. My tongue teased her, tasted her, caressed her
until she bent over to again rake my flesh with her
nails.
Ignoring the burning of raw flesh meeting air, I drove
my fingers in and out of her, adding first one finger
and then another, moving with a frenetic rhythm to push
her over the brink.
Breath sucked in, Toddie went rigid then began shaking,
cunt squeezing against my fingers, thighs slamming
against my ears, partially drowning out the sound of a
strangled, half-whispered scream as she thrashed her
way to orgasm.
Even as her climax took her, I was moving up Toddie's
body, my arousal a yet unquenched fire. Without warning
or nuance, I buried half my cock deep into her pussy,
payback for the crosshatching of oozing welts her
passion had left on my back.
Toddie's eyes shot wide open as I entered her, my
second thrust fully sheathing my cock inside her
sopping vagina. Urgently I pumped away, feeling as
though I was going to fall apart with every stroke into
and out of her silken cavern.
Recovering from the shock of my unexpected entrance,
Toddie began to respond, moving her hips in counter
punctual cadence to my thrusts, squeezing and relaxing
her enveloping muscles around my pistoning rod in an
effort to milk the sperm from my balls.
"Fuck me, fuck me hard," she moaned, flicking her
tongue in my ear. "Use me Jake, ride me, fuck me. Use
me, ride me, fuck me. Do it, do it hard. Give it to me
Jake, give me your cock."
Her words filled me with an even greater desire,
spurring me to pound even faster at her crotch. Her
frenzied movements matched mine, urging me to abandon
myself to her, give myself over to wild animal sex with
all politeness and manners forgotten,
Only sensation mattered to me. The touch of her velvety
cunt contracting around the hardness of my cock as I
plunged deep into her. The fruity taste of her on my
tongue. The smell of our rutting, musky and pungent.
The sound of her voice as she muttered obscene
instructions in my ear. The look of desire in her eyes
as we coupled.
Toddie moved against me, rolling her hips until I could
no longer control my strokes. My cock buried itself to
the hilt inside her, the intense sensations she'd
generated running wild through my body. Orgasm arrived
like a clap of thunder, clouds of red exploding behind
my eyes, the release from my spending rushing through
every shivering muscle as I slumped bonelessly against
her, trying my best to keep my weight on my forearms.
Silently we huddled together, lost in our thoughts as
we stroked each other's bodies, reluctant to allow the
intensity and grandeur of the moment to recede into
memory. We exchanged feathery kisses, little murmurs of
thanks as our heaving chests slowly fell back into more
normal rhythms. With a sigh of contentment, Toddie
rolled out from under me, repositioning herself beside
me, resting her sweaty head on my shoulder.
"God that was great, Jake," she said, her fingers
lazily tracing little circles around my nipples. "I
can't believe how good that was, how good you were. Are
you sure I'm only the second person you've slept with
because you sure don't fuck like a rookie?"
Whether she meant it or not, Toddie's praise was music
to my ears. I felt my face break out in a wide goofy
grin as I told her she really was only my second woman.
Even we talked I couldn't shake the nagging feeling I
was forgetting something important. Well, it couldn't
be that important otherwise I'd think of it. In the
meantime I was content to hold Toddie in my arm and
listen to the gentle rain falling outside.
"Shit," I exclaimed loudly, springing up from the
daybed like a demented Jack-In-The-Box, "the shower's
still running."
Laughing like loons, Toddie and I made our way to a
bathroom that had more than a passing resemblance to
Pickett Creek, a steady stream of water swirling across
its floor. Including our second shower of the evening,
this one far more sedate and quick than the first cold
water not being conducive to romantic interludes, it
took us until ten o'clock and every towel, dishrag and
spare sheet in the apartment to get everything mopped
up and semi-dry.
Since Toddie was out of towels and Carl's "Wash and
Dry" Laundromat was open until midnight, and since
there was far too many things to hang over the porch
railing, it was an easy decision to go into town and
put everything into the dryer.
Bags of soaking wet towels hung over our shoulders,
Toddie and I walked hand in hand through the soft
summer darkness, the garland of heaven's stars lighting
our way to the outskirts of town where the more modern
but less romantic streetlights would take over the
chore.
Nightfall had turned the day's green grass into a
shimmering black cloth while the moon played peek-a-boo
though a thin layer of high clouds. From the west a
warm gentle zephyr flowed around our bodies, keeping
the mosquitoes at bay.
Mother Nature was holding her own courting ceremony
that evening. Fireflies weaved through the air, their
luminescent flickers of glowing absinthe signaling
their availability. The eerie, mellow mating warble of
a Screech Owl floated through the night, contrasting
with the high-pitched trill of the field crickets, one
wing rubbing against the other in a seductive symphony.
Overlaying all of it was the strident caterwauling of a
tomcat on the prowl. Silently I wished them all the
same luck I had had that night.
"About my folks, Jake," Toddie said suddenly but in a
tentative hesitant voice. "I guess I owe you an
explanation."
"Hey, you don't owe me anything and there's no reason
for you to dredge up unpleasant memories."
"No," she persisted, her voice a little surer. "I think
I'd like to talk about it, not that there's much to
talk about," she said, her feet scuffing at the dirt as
she spoke.
My lucky guess during her reading had been pretty
accurate. Her parents had split up when Toddie was 12,
leaving her at home with her mother.
"I wanted to go with Dad," she explained a lingering
note of melancholy in her voice, "but he was always
driving that damn truck of his somewhere so I wound up
with Mom.
"Don't get me wrong, I loved my Mom and it was the best
choice for me. But nobody loves a daughter the way a
father does. Dad was always the fun one, bringing me
little gifts, silly souvenirs from the places he'd
been, tourist junk mostly but I really liked the
Jackalope he brought me back from the Black Hills; it
was so tacky it was cute. Another time he brought me a
little wind-up cable car from San Francisco. I used to
play with that all the time until Chaz sold it to a
friend of his for a quarter," she told me, giving her
head a shake as though she still couldn't believe what
her brother had done.
"After about a year they got together again. For the
kids they said, but I think it was more out of habit
than anything else. They had trouble living together
but they really couldn't live apart. It was never the
same though," she said regretfully. "Too much distance
between them I guess, too many things they said they
couldn't take back. They both live their own lives now.
They've got that 'whole ships that pass in the night'
thing going; still married but without any passion,
more like friends rooming together than anything else."
"Why'd they split up in the first place," I asked,
intrigued despite knowing better.
"Don't know. Why do people split up? Sex, money,
drinking? Chaz thinks Dad was banging everything he
could while he was on the road, still is he says. At
least that what Chad used to think, we haven't heard
much from him since he moved to that ashram.
"Rita doesn't say much," she continued, "other than
they weren't spending enough time together. Dad's being
on the road so much meant they didn't have all the
things in common they used to and so became unmoored
from each other, let the tides carry them in different
directions. I know Rita spent a lot of time and energy
trying to get things back to the way they used to be,
as if there was any chance of that."
"And what do you think?"
"Me, hell I think they're both right. I love my father
but he's a man and most of you guys will fuck a snake
if you can get it to hold still long enough. I imagine
he got more than a little extra trim when he was on the
road. I think Mom knew about it and didn't let it
bother her; I remember 'Uncle' Alan and 'Uncle" Herb
used to come around the house a lot when Dad was gone
so I'm not so sure she was pure as Caesar's wife
herself.
"They're wrong you know, all those people compiling
those books of quotations. Absence doesn't always make
the heart grow fonder. Sometimes it just hollows it out
until you don't have any other choice than to fill that
aching emptiness with someone else. Continents drift
further apart every day, so what chance does a long-
distance marriage have? Anyway, my parents' marriage is
what it is and if it works for them, fine. Nobody said
it had to work for their kids too."
"Be nice if it did though," I responded, more to keep
up my end of the conversation than out of any real
concern. I was enjoying this evening stroll with Toddie
and talking about anything too heavy would just take
away from the afterglow of our coupling. "But you're
right; it doesn't have to work for you, just for them."
We had been walking in companionable silence for a few
minutes when Toddie cleared her throat. "How do your
parents manage," she asked me.
My mind had been concentrating more on the pleasure of
walking hand in hand with Toddie than on our previous
discussion so for a moment I didn't know what she was
talking about.
"Manage what," I asked.
"Manage their relationship Jake. That is what we've
been talking about isn't it, our parents' marriages?"
This sudden expansion of the topic came as a surprise
to me. Toddie had wanted to talk about her parents; I
couldn't recall volunteering to talk about mine. I
might have been a moron but I wasn't a fool. I knew
better than to blurt out something along the lines of
just how the hell did my parents get dragged into this
anyhow, so I tried beating around the bush.
Fingers crossed I said, "As far as I know they manage
just fine. It's not like either one of them come to me
for counseling. They're both pretty private people."
Toddie wasn't buying it.
"Pull the other one sport, it's got bells on. Your Dad
is one of the least private people I know. He makes the
town gossip look like she works for the CIA. He's told
me all about you, your Mom, the bethel, your future
girlfriend, even that bunch of swappers they run with.
Shit, he actually asked Debbie and I if we wanted to
play. It's not like I'm asking you to spill any secrets
here. And don't pretend you don't know any of this
because Lennie told me you do."
I was stunned at the extent of my Dad's indiscretions.
It was one thing to talk about himself, even talking
about me was OK, but to bandy stories about his wife
and with one of his lovers at that; how could he do
that? What the hell was he thinking? Then I remembered
how wrong I'd been about him cheating on Mom. I wasn't
going to make the same stupid mistake twice, at least
not without giving it a lot more thought.
"It's OK, Jake. I doubt you can tell me anything I
don't already know," Toddie said.
With an effort, I tried to piece my splintered
composure back together.
"If you know everything already, then there's nothing
for me to tell you," I retorted, amazed at how even my
voice sounded. It certainly didn't reflect my inner
turmoil.
"You like to play with words don't you Jake? You use
them like a magician uses his props, as a way to
misdirect your audience. That's fine," she said,
forestalling my protest. "As games go it's a fairly
harmless one. Your dad said you took a lot of pride in
your ability to talk your way around things. Called
you a 'golden-tongued orator,' said you could out yap
an auctioneer and argue rings around a shyster lawyer.
'Jake's a complex kid,' he told me.
"Lennie isn't as complicated as you are Jake. He's more
like a light switch. They have just two settings, off
and on. Lennie's two settings are true and false. Get
the door would you?"
Get the door? I looked up and discovered not only were
we in town, we were standing in front of Carl's Wash
and Dry.
Loading the wet towels into the dryer, the buzzing
florescent lights casting a sickly yellow hue over the
room, Toddie picked up our conversation.
"Like I said, Lennie doesn't exaggerate. Hand me some
quarters will you? Thanks Jake. And he's always
straightforward, even when he's lying."
As the towel began to tumble in the dryer, Toddie
levered herself up onto one of the folding tables, her
feet swinging aimlessly in the air.
"I've got some ethics, you know. I usually won't sleep
with a married man; your Dad's only the second one I've
gone to bed with and I wouldn't have done that except
he convinced me Mary Anne would be fine with it," she
said defensively.
I nodded, not in agreement but as an indication I
understood what she was saying. Internally I was still
smarting from her spot-on analysis of my defensive
shields. You'd have thought she was the palm reader.
"So which setting was Lennie on when he told me your
mother wouldn't mind? True or false?"
With the cat already out of the bag, I knew I owed
Toddie an honest answer with no evasions and no
qualifications, just a simple declarative sentence.
"True. He was on true."
"Thanks Jake, that's good to know," she said, her
relief at finding my father had been honest with her
visible. "I just wasn't sure. I know what I hoped but
I just wasn't sure."
"Mom knows about you just like she knows about a lot of
Dad's paramours. And if it bothers her, she does a good
job of hiding it. I don't think she's that good an
actress.
"I actually confronted her once, asked her how she
could live with Dad's cheating on her. She told me in
no uncertain terms she didn't view it as cheating.
Actually she sees it as your path to salvation."
"My path," asked Toddie incredulously. "You mean me.
Your mom thinks my fucking her husband will get St.
Peter to open the Pearly Gates for me? You're joking
right?"
"Not really. Mom says God moves in mysterious ways.
You already know our bethel believes sex is one of
God's highest sacraments, right?"
"Yeah, Lennie made an off-hand comment about it. Do you
believe that's true," she asked me with a strange look
on her face.
Admitting I did, I went on with my attempt at
enlightenment.
"A sacrament brings grace to those participating in it
or receiving it. Grace is the infinite love, mercy,
favor and goodwill shown to mankind by God. Those are
basic tenets of all religions, not just mine," I said,
trying to keep my explanation simple.
"If you accept sex is a sacrament it follows that sex,
even casual sex without any meaningful commitment,
bestows God's grace on the participants and receiving
God's grace puts you on the path to salvation. So yeah,
fucking my Dad, even fucking me for that matter, could
get St. Peter to admit you into heaven. Even the fallen
angels will ascend again one day."
"Wow, I'll be honest with you Jake," she said, in the
tone you would use to talk with a backward child who
belief in Santa Claus you didn't want to shatter. "I'm
not sure what to make of all that. You have to admit
that's a really unusual take on things you've got
there. When I was a little girl we went to a Baptist
Church and the preacher never mentioned we could screw
our way to Heaven, just the opposite. Harlots like me
were doomed to an afterlife of torment in a smoke pit
of fire and bubbling brimstone. Maybe I ought to come
by your bethel one Sunday, bring Debbie with me."
"Now you're making fun on me and what I believe," I
said, annoyed at Toddie's cavalier attitude toward my
faith.
"Teasing you a little maybe, making fun of you, no. But
you have to admit your church..."
"Bethel," I corrected her a little less tartly.
"Sorry, your bethel has a very different way of looking
at things. I've never heard any other denomination
preach the virtues of uninhibited sex, let alone tout
it as a sure way into heaven. There's got to be
something here you're not telling me because otherwise
every loose woman in the county would be filling up the
pews on Sunday," she said, in a more accepting manner
than before.
"There's more to it than just sex. Sex just puts you on
the path; you have to choose to make the journey."
"And what does making the journey involve?"
"Obedience, humility, submission but not chastity," I
said with a grin, my temporary disgruntlement receding.
As with all new converts to a belief system I wanted to
spread the word, have others validate my decision by
making the same choice themselves.
Well practiced by now, I quickly gave Toddie the basic
outline of how woman's subservience and obedience to
their man redeemed them from original sin while their
willingness to obey in all things preserves their souls
and their place in the kingdom.
"See, I knew there was a catch. Don't be offended but I
don't see myself as the submissive type. But Debbie,
yeah, now she's more the sort of woman you're after.
Loves to be tied up and you can't get much more
submissive than that."
I had to laugh at Toddie's comment. It was clear she
was trying to atone for her earlier error by changing
the topic. "Huh, she never had me tie her up. Sounds
like it would have been fun too. What'd I do wrong?"
A mischievous grin split Toddie's face. "You just
weren't around her long enough. Another date or two and
she'd have been bringing out the silk ties for sure."
"Come to think of it," I said, folding towels while I
talked, confident our conversation about religion was
over, "I haven't put my big thing up your little ass
yet either. And that sounds like fun too. What am I
doing wrong there?"
Toddie stopped packing the folded towels into the bags,
long enough to stick out her tongue and blow me a
raspberry. "Same answer Jake. You just haven't been
around me long enough. But then we still have the rest
of the weekend to ahead of us."
The greatest joy that weekend wasn't the joy of sex but
the simple yet ethereal pleasure of sleeping with
Toddie in the same bed, lying nestled against each
other, our arms and legs tangled in a lovers' knot, our
breathing gradually deepening, our heartbeats slowing
and lengthening until they became soft throbs as we
welcomed the visions from Morpheus.
It was having someone warm to hold during the cool
morning hours, beads of sweat intermingling; our bodies
conforming to the same shape then pulling away only to
rejoin in a different configuration, instinctively
embracing each other.
It was the breaking of the day, its radiance slowly
entering the room, gray at first then pink then silver;
each chromatic change illuminating more of Toddie, her
eyes, her nose, her face shaded by damp tendrils of red
hair, its tips stuck to the corners of her soft pouting
mouth.
It was the moment when we first woke up, looking at
each other through bleary eyes, heads turned to the
side to minimize "morning breath" but happy we had
"walked in the ways of our hearts."
Most of all my first night with Toddie, so new and
wonderful, taught me the wisdom behind the question in
Ecclesiastes, "If two lie together, then they have
heat: but how can one be warm?"
The Bible wasn't talking about physical warmth but the
warming of the soul, molding one another's dreams,
holding each other's fragile hopes in our hands,
sharing joy and touching others' hearts.
Of course, all that sex didn't hurt either.
To be continued?
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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a
fellow convict in their local prison.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 46