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The River, re-posted
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The River, re-posted Someone asked me recently if I had ever been "out into nature naked" and although the short answer is no, (it isn't often warm enough round here, and although I am not shy about my body, somehow it isn't something I ever really think of doing, ) there was one time I did get naked in the Great Outdoors, and as I blogged the story once, long ago when no one we know here now other than Zandi, Ama, and The Girl Who Read Everything was reading, I thought I would re-post it here for anyone who might be interested. Also it gives an idea of what my blog was like back then, when I was feeling more sentimental and had aspirations to be a more romantic/erotic writer.......... None of what follows is made up It was summer. Not the hottest of summers, but sunny, at least on that day. It was a very long time ago, and it was almost our first time. Our very first time will never be written about, it was just for us, and always will be, even today. But this time was not so very long afterwards. Our parents approved of our relationship, I think they knew we loved each other, but they would not have approved of us having sex. It was separate bedrooms for all visits during the holidays. But like<b> teenagers </font></b>everywhere we found ways.... My long square ended flat-bottomed fishing-punt lay in a friend's boat house a short walk away on the banks of the river Thames. What could be more innocent than a picnic on the river? I cleaned the boat thoroughly two days before. I lined the bottom with off-cuts of carpet from the attic, and I added old cushions and, secretly, a couple of pillows and a soft blanket. And when Lizzy arrived that morning I announced to my mother that I was taking her out on the river. "Very romantic," she told us with a smile, and we blushed and looked embarrassed. But Lizzy shot me a glance which went straight in at my eyes and grabbed me somewhere else altogether. She knew without being told what I had planned. If you take a boat out on the middle Thames, somewhere between Reading and Marlow, you will find yourself in another world. There may be pretty Berkshire towns and villages at intervals along the banks, interspersed with open flood-plain fields of grazing, and millionaires' houses here and there. London may be only forty-five minutes drive away along the old M4 motorway, and the traffic of life may be bustling about you away from the river banks, but on the water all is serene. Even the pleasure-boats and gin palaces, which would look more at home anchored in Miami harbour, just drift slowly by from time to time, working at a different pace of life from the rest of the world. I rowed past trees and houses, an island - overgrown and uninhabited in the middle of the river - and we relaxed and talked about the things<b> teenagers </font></b>talk about when they are together alone. I no longer remember what that was. In a while we came to a place I felt as if only I knew about. A back-water, off the main river, only wide enough for a small narrow boat and overhung on both sides by trees and brambles. I had discovered it years ago as a boy out looking for secret places to go fishing. It had never produced the goods then, but it was going to now, and Lizzy began to look at me with those eyes. She was so sexy. The old idea that nice girls didn't had gone out of my head completely, right from the very first time eighteen months earlier that I put the palm of my hand on her breast and she had made a noise that sounded like "Mmmnnnnnnn," and had told me not to stop. I poled the boat down the narrow channel with an oar until the stream widened slightly and a larger tree overhung the water. Dappled sunshine played on the glassy surface of the river and we tied the boat either end to a convenient low branch. We were completely hidden from the world. She wore a starched white business shirt, probably one of her father's, and a flowing flowery skirt with a white lace hem which was the fashion of that year. She lay back on the cushions as I put the oars on the bank and knelt in front of her. I put a hand either side of her head and kissed her, the way we had kissed so many times before. For eighteen months we had learned every way to have sex together except one, but for a month now, she had been taking the contraceptive pill and today she wanted me to come in her. It was not going to be your average teenage first time. For one thing, as I said earlier, it was not our first. But for another we had learned from each other already most of what we were ever going to learn about sex, and she kissed me with a hunger born of the anticipation of ecstasy. I looked into her dark eyes, shining with love and desire, her slightly full lips so soft and kissable and I felt my self falling into a world of tongues and teeth and fingers. I unbuttoned the crisp cloth of her shirt and freed her breasts from the bra they did not need, my lips roamed from her neck to her nipples, bringing all her senses awake. She breathed deeply in contentment as I followed a path I knew would lead her towards what the French call the little death. I wanted so much to please her before I went any further but after a while she took the lead, unbuttoning my jeans and saying gently, "Just do it_____" (She said my name, as I wasn't called Dreamer then,) and pulling me towards her. I took my time, it was difficult not to come much too soon, but gradually I worked my way gently into her. She lifted her hips and helped me, searching for the angles which would ease me in and make her thrill to the feel of me, but which neither of us knew much about yet. At last I was inside her, I felt as if I was part of her. The feeling we all know was so new to me then and I gasped as I pulled out a little and then pushed all the way back in. She knew my face well enough to know what was about to happen, but rather than asking me to hold back, perhaps out of desire, perhaps to reassure me, she looked straight in my eyes and whispered, "Come for me now," and I did, months of passion bursting out of me suddenly, making her as smooth as silk inside, and I rocked in her, both of us gasping happily and holding each other, finally knowing we were alive. We re-arranged our clothing. It turned out to be not a moment too soon as about five minutes later two canoeists paddled by. For all we knew they could have been selling tickets earlier - I don't think we would have even noticed. We ate our picnic, drank a baby bottle of champagne she had bought and cooled in the river, then we slowly rowed back to the boathouse and drifted home hand in hand. My mother welcomed us with tea in the garden. I'm sure we both thought that to the world we looked completely innocent. But to me she looked like the most wonderful woman on the earth, her face glowed with satisfaction and pride, I couldn't stop grinning, and under my jeans the white skin of my buttocks was already beginning to sting from un-accustomed exposure to too much sunshine! |
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Thanks, that's a great compliment, I appreciate it.
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I feel so dreamy and light now. As if your memory incited some warm hazy nostalgia.
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I feel so dreamy and light now. As if your memory incited some warm hazy nostalgia.
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