The Erotic.

Collected stories in 3 catagories :

The Sensual.

The Exotic.

The Erotic.

3) The Erotic.

The Kiss by Francesco Hayez

The Pear Tree.

At the lower end of my gently sloping back yard there is a pear tree. It was planted eight years ago by myself and my wife..who is now sadly departed..a long debilitating illness that drained energy and the sensitive attachment to the outside world from my body and emotions. The tree is a concorde pear, we both liked the long, feminine pear shape and flesh, we would watch through the growing of the fruit and throw a bird net over the tree, which fortunately was yet not too big, to keep birds from pecking the ripening pears. The pear tree was the one central fruit tree in our backyard that we cherished together and in Bronwyn’s last days, she would frequently ask after the pear tree and I would reassure her it was healthy and bearing fruit..and she would smile and squeeze my arm and in a breathless whisper say..: “That is a good thing.”

But that was three years ago now and I am just coming out of a deep grieving for the many years we spent together..it is early Autumn and the pears are ripening wonderfully. I frequently go down to the back garden and pick a pear, cut it in two and taste the juicy, delicious fruit and the memories come flooding back..but now the memories are no longer of deep sadness, but rather reflective of the many good times Bronwyn and I had together.

It was on one of those moments when I was at the pear tree and had just eaten into the second half of a pear that I heard a call to me from over the next door neighbours fence. A young woman stood there at the fence..when I say “young”, I mean younger than myself and I am fifty-five years of age, so I would reckon the woman to be around late thirties or so..and, well..so much younger than myself.

“Hello” she called..her voice was clear, soft and inquiring..I turned, surprised, for though I was aware that the neighbouring property had been purchased from a long time vacant, I had up till now no interest in wondering just who had purchased it.

“Hello” I returned..then an inquisitive “what can I do for you?”

“That pear tree..what type is it?” she called…I didn’t quite catch what she had asked so I went to the fence and asked again what was it she had said..

“The pear..what variety is it, can I ask?”

“Oh..” I pointed to the tree “It’s a concorde pear”.

“It’s very good..you have a lot of fruit on it…I have a pear tree too, though it hasn’t any fruit on it at all..as a matter of fact it looks rather tatty compared to yours.”

“Both trees were planted at the same time..as a matter of fact, our tree was given to us by the couple who used to live there where you are now..they had bought two for the price of one in a deal at the nursery and they only wanted the one, so they gave this other one to us.”

“Well, you must have the green thumb then, because I have been here two seasons now and there’s been barely a pear in both.” The woman complained.

“I’m sorry to say that I can’t claim any credit for our pear baring so well..it was my wife, you see, who looked after the tree.”

“Ah, yes..I heard about you losing your partner..I’m sorry for that.”

“Thank you for your concern, but it was several years ago now..and..if I may correct you there on one point..I prefer the term “wife” rather than “partner” as whenever I hear that term, I immediately think of Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis in an old movie they did back in the sixties…”Partners”..a terrible movie and..to my mind a terrible title for the relationship of marriage…” I worried if I sounded a tad too lecturey, so I added.” If you’ll excuse me for saying so.” And I gave a humble bow.

“Oh no..don’t apologise” she laughed..and I must interject here to remark that that laugh was such a delightful shock to myself…a sudden song..if I can call it that..a woman song in a woman lilt of voice..a music I have been denied of for these several years while I mourned my dearly departed wife..so much a shock that I felt myself draw in a gulp of air..The woman continued..” I’m certain that we get caught up in these changes of terminology that the modern world thrusts upon us rather than those of our own choosing…so..”Wife” it will be in future.” She finished with a decisive nod of her head. She then proffered her hand to me with ; “Sophia” she simply said.

“Joseph..” I replied and we shook hands.

“So tell me…Joseph..” she asked “Was there some special fertilizer your wife used?”

Here I was a little reticent to reply, as my dearly departed was particularly singular in her application of suitable fertilising of this particular tree…other parts of the garden she would apply a common compost or shop-purchased fertiliser..but as mentioned before of my wife, Bronwyn’s opinion that the pear was a female tree, she would delicately apply at selected times her own urine to points around the circumference of the root system…and certainly, this mode of application had the desired results of having the pears bear so profusely and so deliciously..what can one say?..but then to try to explain such a delicate matter to a total stranger is the most difficult task..I opted for diplomacy.

“My wife..Bronwyn, was her name..she..she was of the opinion that organic was best…sooo..considering that one of the best sources of nitrogen, phosphorous..and other goodies..AND..Bronwyn would make quiet comment on the usefulness of the female oestrogen levels in a woman’s urine……” and I pursed my lips and left the conclusion to my new found next door neighbour to work it out.

“Ohh!…so she pissed on the ground around the tree!?” and she laughed that music again..damned if I wasn’t embarrassed by the openness of the woman’s talk..

“Yeah..well…I suppose THAT is the crude terminology if you want to say it like that..but I can assure you that my wife took a more delicate approach to the subject..” and I went to the pear tree to select a fruit to give this cheeky neighbour a taste of the result..

I picked what I saw as a beautiful, ripe pear..looked it over for flaws and satisfied of its quality, took it back to the fence where Sophia stood and showed her the fruit..then taking my folding knife from my pocket, I started to slice the pear in half lengthways..

“That’s an interesting knife you’re using.” Sophia remarked

“It’s French..a French kitchen folding knife..we have a full set in the kitchen..my wife preferred them to the normal type…she said the curves fitted into her hand better.”…I had completed the cut and offered one half of the pear over the fence to Sophia..

“Thank you, kind sir..” she said with a curtsey and a smile..took a bite and leant forward so the juice wouldn’t trickle onto her skirt..her eyebrows raised and she spoke..” What a wonderful taste!”…

“Yes” I agreed “It’s almost effervescent “..

“Mmmm..quite tingly” Sophia agree.

“My wife…. Bronwyn…used to say that the pear was the original fruit Eve offered to Adam…She said that the pear was a female tree.” And I bit down on another mouthful of the pear.

“Huh..I never thought of that!” Sophia exclaimed and took another bite herself..then asked me if she could see the folding knife…I handed it to her over the fence.

“Ah, yes…I see…it does have a comfortable feel to it..your wife must have been a good cook..” Sophia bent down to read the brand on the blade..”Le Savonyard”…she read.

“Yes…It’s an old knife..we’ve had it for years..I prefer it to a standard pocket knife..they are a bit too twee for what I want to use it for..” and I reached my hand over the fence for her to give it back..Sophia went to pass it back then snatched it away..

“What if I want to keep it!?” and she laughed that sweet woman laugh and the music of that laugh rolled around the leaves and twigs and flowers of the garden and thrilled my hungry ears..it had been so long since I enjoyed a woman’s voice, that falsetto trill and then the mocking tease that women are so good at..and now this sprightly fortyish redhead had suddenly put a song back into my heart..I don’t think Bronwyn would begrudge me..no, not at all..Sophia then handed the knife back to me..I didn’t…couldn’t say a word..but as I took the knife back, I knocked a paling on the fence and it fell away..I caught it and leant it against the fence..

“Oh, that’s a bother” I said “I’ll have to get to and fix it before some stray cats use it for a thoroughfare”.

“My cat, you mean”..and Sofia smiled.

“The white one…Is it yours? “ I asked..

“Yes..I mostly keep it inside, but in the evening, I let it out to do its cat business in the yard..it prefers the “organic” method.”

Cheeky thing, I thought..but then, I had nothing against cats or dogs or any animals for that matter.

“Perhaps I’ll just leave the paling here then and let your pussy wander further.”..I wasn’t sure if she got my double entendre and she didn’t let on..but anyway, the conversation had about exhausted itself so we talked of food and dinner to prepare etcetera, excused ourselves and went inside.

Several months had passed since I met Sofia over the side fence..we had chatted on more occasions and she had even come through the fence where it was broken so I could show her the garden. It was in walking with this quietly confident women around the garden that my wife had so meticulously planted, paying close attention to certain plants in regard to colour, height and emblematic flora presentation, that I became aware just how isolated from pleasant company I had become over the years as I cared then grieved for my Bronwyn..and it was when we reached a particular spot in the furtherest part of the garden beds, where there stood amongst low ferns and shrubs a stone-cast Japanese garden lantern..I confessed to Sofia the pact I had made with my wife for after she had passed away.

“It was under this lantern, that I buried some of Bronwyn’s ashes.” I softly reflected.

“Some?” Sofia queried. I stood there with my hands in my pockets while I explained the pact.

“ When Bronwyn was in her last months, she wrote for me some instructions for her funeral..and one stipulation..or rather, request was for myself..and only known to myself..to retrieve her ashes. Take out a small measure, place it inside a golden locket I gave her when we first were going serious and bury it under this Japanese lantern..It was to represent her heart so it would forever remain in her beloved garden…or at least as long as foreseeable..the rest went to one of those alcoves at the cemetery..for the family to go to.”

“What a lovely gesture as a memorial” Sofia quietly spoke.

“Yes..I come here to make a connection to her spirit come every new moon…But I am afraid the garden is falling into neglect these days..” and I looked around to the overgrown plants. “Perhaps the time has come to let the regret and sadness lie and begin the regrowing of the garden”.

“A garden is nature’s microcosm of the rebirth of the world”..I looked at Sophia in amazement.

“You know..Bronwyn said something almost the exact meaning…She said that women had a contract with nature to rebirth our world while men had a contract with the world of materials to build and maintain a safe living environment for both women and nature to thrive.”

“Well..it is a trueism that women are more joined in common union to each other..through common practicality than men.”

I turned to gaze carefully at this gentle person standing next to myself, thinking I was beginning to know her so much better than our first meeting over the fence-line and I wanted to get to know her more..

“I’d like to invite you to dinner at my place some time..if that’s alright with you..NOT, I might add to flirt or confront, just to get to talk to you as a person…a situation I have fallen out of practice with these last five years..I cannot promise good conversation, BUT..I can promise a good meal..THAT I had plenty of practice with cooking for both my wife and myself all that time.”…Sophia smiled..that was a good sign..

“Alright”, she said “And I for my part will try not to complicate things either”..and it was my turn to smile.

“Just give me a couple of weeks or so to clean and tidy the place up…I’m afraid the bachelor’s life has crept into and onto many surfaces.”

And with that promise, we parted.

A week later there was a new moon and as was my usual routine, I made my way down to the Japanese lantern at the back of the garden to join in silence with my departed love..I have a rock there which I sit upon and while not really doing anything of either spiritual or practical, I just sit in idle contemplation of the backyard…I had been going through this ritual for so long now that the deeper spiritual connotation was somewhat lost on me and I was even wondering if I should continue the practice..perhaps it was time to let the dead bury the dead..

But just as I was thinking this morbid thought, I detected a movement in the backyard next door..in Sophia’s backyard…indeed, after a little concentrated gazing, I could see it was Sophia herself. She was dressed in a long white cotton shift that went to her ankles. Her hair was loose and free..She walked with slow, light steps to her pear tree..I shifted my position silently as I could see she had some intention and wasn’t to be disturbed. I watched in dumb fascination through that gap in the fence where the paling had fallen away as Sophia then squatted next to the pear tree and with her dress lifted to show her white hips and long white legs, she placed her right hand between her parted legs and squatted there..I stared in fixated curiosity and then I heard first the sound of the pooling and then saw in the full moonlight a singular jet of shining urine spray from between her legs onto the soil next to the pear tree..and in the soft moonlight, for just the briefest moment as she came to the end of her action there and was doing a couple of bobs on the balls of her feet to finish the lot, I caught the flash of moonlight on the innermost part of her thighs and onto that most precious part of womanhood..my eyes caught or at least I believe my eyes caught a picture of her vagina with her two fingers spreading the lips of her labia so as to..I presume, make the discharge of urine more cleaner and easier..I turned away then lest she would spy me and believe I was some sort of degenerate trying to take advantage of a woman’s private functions.

Sophie finished her deed and then returned to the house..I sat there for a little while longer in disturbed contemplation at what I had just witnessed..not for the action of the ablution, but rather in the sensuality within myself..as a man..to those commonplace but private actions of a woman..I felt I had never really known this fellow creature that I had both co-habited with and joined in sexual reproduction with to form our family..Perhaps this whole life thing was a tad more complicated than I first thought..

That flickering glimpse of Sophia’s vagina instantaneously threw me back to a moment in the early days of my marriage to Bronwyn. I was in my early thirties and Bronwyn in her late twenties. We had one child who was now three years old and I had thought for some time that Bronwyn was preparing herself for a second child..we had not discussed it in any depth, but it was an understanding that two children would be the ideal.

It was a summer night and Bronwyn had showered and went to the bed while I took my turn in the shower..I had come out and was nakedly finishing off drying myself while Bronwyn lay there stark naked herself on the bedclothes looking all the while like she was waiting for something. I stared at her quizzically and innocently asked;

“What are you waiting for?”….without a word, Bronwyn slowly and sensually opened her legs wide to show to me that most glorious treasure desired by the eternal host of mankind..her vagina opened to me like a flower opens to spring..it then appeared to blink at me..or was it a cheeky wink..as she thrust her pelvis a my gaze..but whatever it was, I can tell you most assuredly that no parade-ground soldier ever stood to attention smarter or faster than did my male member……

“You.” Bronwyn whispered..and on that night, I firmly believe, our second child was conceived.

Around a month after I had Invited Sophia to dinner, I was ready to follow through with the deed. Many years before, when I found it had become my lot to do the cooking for two, I was advised by the Greek wife of my boss to immediately purchase a copy of the “Tess Mallos, Complete Middle-East Cookbook”…take it home, study it and ..to paraphrase my boss’s wife…”Follow the ingredients and instructions; TO THE LETTER!”…and a more wise and utilitarian instruction I have never heard!

The dinner I had planned for the night was a simple yet exotic and tasty dish..I had consulted my “Bachelor’s friend” (as I call the said cookbook) and chosen “Psari Savoro”, fried fish with rosemary and vinegar..

The fishmonger at the market served me several choice fillets of butterfish, which I followed the instructions and coated with the appropriate ingredients and shallow fried, then taking the fish from the pan, I placed the cooked fillets in a dish and draining all but one quarter cup of oil from the pan, I added the garlic and rosemary, cooked them for a few minutes and sprinkled in three teaspoons of flour and stirred till it was lightly coloured….of course I did this cooking while Sophia was sitting at the table sipping on a chilled sauvignion-blanc from the Adelaide Hills…she had even consented to try my own preference of dropping a couple of ice-cubes into the glass of wine to super-chill it which makes the taste so much more sharp and tingling to the palate…It was when I removed the pan from the heat and poured in the vinegar that Sophia gave a cry of fright as the vinegar sizzled and spat high up over the pan..we both laughed then and I knew the evening, which I approached with trepidation was going well..I stirred in some of the drinking wine and returned the pan to the heat until it was bubbling..I then took it off , added some salt and pepper and poured the sauce over the fish…I served the dish up with a side dish of Greek salad and we sat down to a delightful meal, first toasting our new found companionship.

With the meal finished and the sweet of Baklava served, we sat back in our chairs and sipped the suav’-blanc..

“ The Baklava was bought”…I confessed “my culinary skills will only stretch so far”…Sophie smiled wryly and complimented me on my overall hosting effort.

“I did wonder on how you would do the dinner and I have to say it was an absolute delight” and she tilted her glass in my direction…I thanked her and repaid her with a compliment on her looks and dress for the night..

“Your dress and deportment make my efforts look a tawdry sham, Sophia…your hair looks dazzling and I yield to your beauty..I am besotted!” and we laughed together..a joyous laugh that brings two people closer and more intimate in the conversation which we parried and shared, agreed and contested in mutual enjoyment as the night progressed and the wine ran freely. It was toward the late hour when I felt I had to say what I wanted to say all the while…I placed my glass on the table, crossed my hands and spoke gently and with what I hoped were conciliatory words.

“Oh!” Sophie smiled “it must be serious”….I returned her smile and said;

“You remember I said that every new moon, I go to sit near the Japanese lantern and take in the night with the memory of my wife?..” I paused..I wanted to get this right..” well..that last new moon a couple of weeks ago, I was sitting there in the dark, not thinking of much at all..when I saw you go to your pear tree and …..fertilize the soil there…I apologise for my bringing the subject to your attention in this way and I have no opinion on your behaviour..your life is your own to do with as you please…but in seeing you do that action, like my wife used to do the same, awoke in me, as a male, the great distance I..and I cannot help but feel ; WE men and women, have let grow between our genders..a dualism of body and mind and I do, do believe now, that I ought to have paid more attention to what my wife extolled me to take seriously; that the pear tree was a symbol more than just a fruit tree..the tree is the bearer of body and soul of us all…” I drank down a little more wine to moisten my now dry palate and I was hoping I had not spoilt the evening with a lot of babble.

Sophia looked to me placed her head in a cradle-cup of her hands whilst leaning on the table and softly replied…

“I saw you go down to the memorial in your garden that night, as I have watched you go there other times and I could see there a man caught in a past difficult to release…I saw you sit there in silence looking sad and forlorn but I felt you were ready to come out of your shell and I wanted to be the one to touch your sensitivity..to bring you into this new time..so I did the only thing I could think of that was in common with your Bronwyn, yourself and myself..I cannot say what made me think of such a thing except your mentioning it when we first met over the fence..I wanted you to see me..I wanted you to know me..for I am not a forward person, but I do have feelings toward you but you had to see the intimate self of myself to either accept or reject me and I made the decision then and there to show that most vulnerable self to your gaze.”

WE both sat there in silence for a while and then I broke the silence with a wry smile and by asking Sophie that since the pear tree was female and in need of a woman’s “touch”, would she then mind sharing that vulnerable part of herself with my pear tree once in a while?

Without a word, Sophie rose from the table..she took my hand and encouraged me to rise also..I was about to ask what she wanted, but she pressed her index finger to my lips as a signal to not speak. She then led me to the rear door of my house to go out to the garden..I was both enthralled as to what was her intention and what was her motive. Again I was about to speak and she again touched my lips gently to silence me..we walked hand in hand to the bottom of the garden..to the pear tree which is where we halted..then the most sweeping sensation of warmth flooded my body as I watched Sophia slowly release my hand with a caress of my fingers..then she lifted the loose cotton smock dress she had on to her waist and proceeded to take down her underwear which she let down to her knees, then taking my hand once again, she lowered herself to a squat in front of the pear tree and gently encouraged me to kneel beside her..we did all this in absolute silence save the wind rustling the leaves of the trees and sweeping over our bodies and hair to tossle and tussle our senses.

In this position, of Sophie squatting and myself kneeling beside her, Sophie guided my hand with my absolute obedience to her vulva and with her hand over mine, she cupped her vulva with my hand.. I suddenly awoke to the soft gentleness of the woman’s genitalia in the palm of my hand..the warmth and moist fleshiness of that most pure part of a woman..that birthplace of every person ever born into the world..all the while, Sophia gazed tenderly into my eyes and caressed the side of my face with her other hand..I could say she looked right into my soul..the wind lifted her rich, red hair into cirrus-like wisps and swirls and I was beginning to wonder on just who was this woman creature here with me..then, pressing my middle finger with her own on top, she bade my finger enter her vaginal opening and pushed it up inside of herself to the second joint..she held my hand there pressing against her vulva and I could feel and sense the warmth of her body inside and out..the male desire within, to join with her in sexual ecstasy was beginning to demand of me, but she sensed my want and shook her head in a negative command and clasped my hand tight as to say “No..let it stay just as it is”..and it was then I became aware of her ultimate intent as I felt another warmth spread over my fingers and my hand..OUR hands..for she still covered my hand with her own and I knew that Sophia then was allowing her warm urine to trickle out over our hands and down onto the earth and down to the roots of the pear tree and..oh!..the sensation of the feeling as Sophie just fixed her stare at and into my eyes while we stayed there with our bodies joined in this anointment of the earth and I almost swooned with the knowledge that here in this one woman was all women..and here in this one action was all life enacted that had emanated from the natural source of man to women to nature and with the passing of the warm urine…back to Earth..back to nature back to the essence of life itself and for only the second time in my life, the first being in joining with my wife, Bronwyn in the ecstasy of first sexual contact to then grow our family together..this..I knew was the natural order of things..the only true order of life itself..a life for me that was about to change now forever.

Je T’Aime..

A Brief Encounter.

Yes, well…I’ll tell it to you..in strictest confidence..if only to reassure myself that it really happened..and it almost didn’t happen…we nearly walked right past each other, it was the scent of a particular perfume that caught my senses and I turned just to recognise that shape of face and corner of eye…it’s strange how some things stick in the consciousness…that look I saw in the street there was exactly the same one I saw when we said goodbye to each other some…oh..what would it be….forty…fifty years ago…

“Eve?” I said.

The lady in question turned her surprised person to me and her eyes had that questioning look for just a moment, then..

“Jack?….Jack Kirchner….well..I never..” and she smiled the same smile I remember from all those years ago.

“Evie James…”I reassured myself “ I never thought I’d say that name again around here”…and we moved to give the regulatory hug…and I have to say there and then it felt like a continuity of that brief encounter we had back in our teen years.

“Eve Harbin, these days, Jack.”

“Oh..of course…I should expect so..some fortunate chap would sweep your heart away back in those days.” And I smiled in sincere well-wishing.

“Not that lucky, I’m afraid..he died in a car accident..”

“Oh dear…that’s bad luck…damn car accidents…so sudden too.”

“Yes..well.it was fifteen years ago…so the “suddenness” has worn off a bit…as has the sadness”..and Evie tilted her head in acknowledgment of the passage of time. “And you, Jack..you still married to Meg.?”

“Oh…no..no..” and I exhaled a breath “Actually never even got married.”

“Oh..” Evie seemed surprised “The date was already set when we said goodbye at the station”.

Here I gave a little guffaw at the faded memory of that hurt.

“Well, the date, the cake and the guest list had been set, but the bride hadn’t been.”

“What happened?” ..I made a grimace and let a laugh out..

“Got left at the altar….Meg never turned up…seems she did a runner with the church organ player…who was also the mechanic at Stiller’s garage…”

“Oh that is so terrible..” and she touched my arm in sympathy..

“No, no…he was shithouse at both jobs..so it was a relief for the whole town”..and I laughed..”But it was better it happened before any children came along, eh?..and I’ve about gotten over it by now….just give it another dozen years or so and it will be all forgotten.”

We both laughed out loud at that one..and too right, too..I had long gotten over the “passing” of Meg.

It was low afternoon and I was making for the “see-saw café” for an afternoon cuppa before driving back to the farm and since we were just there outside the same café, I suggested we could have a coffee there if Evie would like.

“Eve”…she said and ;”Yes …why not..that would be lovely on such a glorious day”.

I ordered a couple of café lattes and we grabbed a table down the back away from the noisy clutter of the street tables…

It felt so very good right from the start..her company was so comfortable to me I became enthralled and we talked of anything and everything and laughed at the lot…

“I’m retired now from teaching”, Eve said “but I still do some part time work when needed to replace an absent teacher…strangely, with the year twelves, it always seems to be on a Monday…they must party something terrible over the weekends , those young people…I’m employed as a “relief teacher”…more like “detox” I say!” and she laughed that beautiful, sweet laugh that I so recall…and of course I laughed with her.

“So what’s been happening with your life?” Eve asked.

“Well…as you know or at least can see..I stuck around the farm until mum and dad passed and then took it over…and no..I never did marry..I lost some skin off that last effort…and you know these places, I lost some cred’ as well…so I just put my head down and my arse up and got stuck into farming…then the impulse seemed to pass and I lost interest in that side of things….” We both drank from our cups..” ..and here I am….still” and I smiled a wry smile.

“Well, you’ve kept yourself in good shape” Eve made a nod of her head in respect..I was flattered.

“I’ve never was one of the boozing crowd..and never smoked, so that helps…and the work on the farm keeps my weight down..”

“Oh that dreaded thing.”Eve pshawed “I have to go to a gym every now and then to keep THAT beast at bay.”….Here it was my turn to deny any negative appearance and to compliment Eve on her still enchanting looks…and indeed, I didn’t have to fib on that subject, for the passing of years had not been detrimental, but rather enhancing to herself..for a mature woman gains a certain sensuousness in the process that is denied those younger..it is a “knowing awareness” of her sexuality and confidence to use her female attraction in a manner of her own choosing..to those of her own choice..her eyes said it all.

I continued…

“Had a bloke in suit and tie at the last stock sale ask me how I keep in shape..’You do weights, running?’..he asked…work, I replied…and he stared at me like I was taking the mick.”….and again Eve laughed out loud…I was getting used to this lovely woman..

“What’s happened to the district since I been away?” Eve asked.

“Well…the weather’s got a tad less predictable..the old families more predictable..especially when it comes to considering the climate changing…but there has been a shift in the makeup of the farming community now.”

“How so”.

“Some other nationalities have come in and taken over some “old family” spreads.”

“Oh..like what nationalities?”

“Well..I have an Italian neighbour now…Cesarino..though we call him Ron…too many syllables otherwise…you know..and there’s a English chap…sorry!..I was corrected by him recently…he’s a Yorkshire man born and bred…”

“Well that’s a miraculous change for this area…used to be Australian – German to the bone..How do they fit in?”

“Ah…no worries now…we’re all multicultural now…”

We finished our first cup of coffee but were so having a good time we ordered another.

“But that Italian told me he hit a language hurdle when he first came to Australia in the late sixties..it seems after he arrived, he ended up at Adelaide Railway Station with all his luggage and no one to help cart it to a taxi..so he looked around and saw these men in cap and uniform walking past so he thought they were porters and he called to them…trouble is, the word for “Porter” in Italian is ; “Facchino”..and it sounds just like that too!..so he’s there calling out “Fuckino! Fuckino!” but no-one is coming to help him until two police turn up and arrest him for shouting abusive language in a public place!”….and we laughed and laughed..oh how sweetly lyrical is a woman’s laugh when let loose..how deeply penetrating into my soul was that laughter..I felt myself falling into something soft and embracing..falling deeper and deeper..I looked into Eve’s face and I could see her blushing..so I could presume…tentatively..that she was feeling the same..so I continued with my relating of the migration adventures of my “new” neighbours..

“And the poor Yorkshireman was wandering around the city centre just after he arrived in the country, just to familiarise himself with the habits of the citizens of his adopted land and he too was at the railway station and he saw the “Cowley’s Pie Cart” parked up there by the steps..curious as to what pies these people were gathering to eat and being quite familiar with the many varieties of pie back in his homeland, he approached the counter of the van and asked of the obviously very busy attendant there what was in his pies?…The harassed gentleman behind the counter paused for the slightest of moments and then tersely replied..

“If I told yers, yer wouldn’t eat ‘em!” and moved to serve another customer…”welcome to Australia!” I added…and we both chuckled at the recognisable idiosyncrasies of our country.

Well…there was more of this gentle banter and chatter until we noticed the afternoon had slipped past and the shadows outside had grown longer..so we decided that it was best to call a halt to the café experience and get on with our business…I had yet to get home to my empty house..

Outside in the street, we again talked of light pleasantries until Eve pointed down the street and said that her car was parked that way…and by chance my van was also in that direction..I had parked it off the street in a vacant lot near some storage sheds..it is an old van, The Sandman, and not too flash looking..but by jingo..it has served me well..

“Here’s me” I said pointing to the van at the back of the lot.

Eve turned to gaze to where I gesticulated..and when she saw the Sandman, she drew in her breath, held my arm and leant into me and gasped..

“Not THE Sandman!…still?..you’ve still got it after all these years!” and she left me to walk toward it..when she came to the old van, she stopped and gently reached her hand to it..touched it and turned to me..

“You still have it..after all this time…” I stood near with my hands in my pockets, a little shamed at the feeling of a frugal attitude I had adopted over the years.

“Well..yes..it’s a bit worse for appearance “ I apologetically replied “But the old girl just keeps on going…getting to the third time around the clock now…but she just won’t die..so I just keep putting new boots on her…a lick or two at this and that and she just keeps on going..they’ll probably have to shoot her when I pass away.” And I giggled at that prospect..But Eve just silently walked the length of the van..not taking her hand from the body-work, but trailing her fingers along the curves of the door so I continued my lame talking..

“Of course she needs a new coat of paint, but I cannot bring myself to spend the cost of a spray job on her…and anyway..there’s history in that old paintwork..

“I’ll say”..Eve replied..and then squatted down to look closely at something behind the front bumper bar…she rubbed a bit of dirt away, turned her lovely, smiling face to me and with her finger called me to come to her..I squatted down next to her to see what it was that she was looking at..Eve rubbed the dirt away more, then licked her finger and wiped it over some faint scratches there…and the letters..E.J. with a small heart pierced with an arrow followed by J.K. ….I looked and stared at that old notation, blinked several times and looked to Eve…who had a mile-wide smile on her face..

“I knew you’d go spare if you found someone had scratched your precious Sandman back then, so I scratched it here where you wouldn’t see it straight away…but I did hope one day you would see it…appears I was too secretive!” and she laughed..

I have to admit I had never seen it..and I was flabbergasted that I had been so denied the pleasure of knowing that here, in this small deed, was proof that I was indeed loved at one time..even if it now be redundant..there was a time when such assurance would have graced my heart with a gladness so welcome..I was speechless..fortunately, Eve could fill in the vacant seconds of talk with her pleasant voice.

“So all this time you didn’t know?…well that’s a shame..but then, neither of us knew where our lives were heading after our short time together…and then I went away to teacher’s college and the rest…as they say…” and Eve stood up and dusted off her hands..I slowly rose to face her..I could feel a strange heat rising in me..a warmth of longing I had not felt for so long..here was this delightful woman whom I had let go for little more than a folly of desire.

“Well, Jack..I s’pose I better let you go…if I recall this is shearing season and you must be busy..” and so we hugged again and Eve turned to go…to walk away out of my life again…I…I don’t know what made me do it…I’m not a forward kind of man…perhaps it was a desperation not to let go this last chance of holding such a pleasure to my soul…but as Eve turned and was nearly out of reach, I suddenly reached and held her arm…she turned to me with a questioning look in her eyes…but I was speechless…speechless…all I could mumble out was a “I…..I..” and then as suddenly, like Eve had likewise made a decision in her mind, she came to me without a word and we embraced tenderly and our lips touched..at first ever so gently..a brushing over each other’s..as if exploring the possibility then pressed harder until all abandon was let go and we kissed with a passion from our young days…I pressed against Eve’s body as she leant against the side of the van and oh..it was so good…so fine…so sweet and welcome…Eve made a little noise of contentment and I had to join her in the delight.

When we drew away for breath and reflection to gaze into each other’s eyes, seeking reassurance for what we…and I have to say “we” now, considering what followed..silently, mutually consented to.

Taking Eve’s hand, I led her to the back of the van and opened the back up…Eve held to me and whispered…”In the back of The Sandman….how delicious”..and we both giggled..

It was fortunate today I was in the town to pick up a couple of large tarps I had repaired and two new single-bed mattresses for the cabins to house the shearers who came from further away when they stay for a couple of days at the farm…

“Mattress too!…tell me you don’t have a mobile bar tucked away here too!”

“No..no bar…and the mattresses are for the worker’s cabins…I just picked them up today..” Eve smiled to me most affectionately, we kissed again and climbed into the back of the Sandman van.

At the closing of the back doors, a new, quieter, more secluded space enclosed us..I spread the new mattresses..of high density foam covered in a patterned cloth…evenly on the floor of the van..the tarpaulins I had repaired were folded neatly behind the driver’s seat and their canvas and straw scent gave the impression of a loft of a hay barn and lent a scented atmosphere, cramped as it was, to the location…

“It’s just how I remember it.” Eve laughted softly..for we still held the moment in “secretive pleasure”…which indeed it was..for this was certainly not planned…and the roughness of our situation gave thrill to our intentions…of which it has to be said that our age and experience let us proceed with deliberate intent and it was no time at all before Eve had removed her jacket and was preparing to take off her top when I stopped her..

“Eve…let me…please..” and I took her hand away from the zip at the back of her top..Eve was wearing a pants/matching top of a dark, soft flecked material with a zipper at the back…She smiled shyly and let me proceed..

I looked to the zipper and noticed the small curls of hair on the nape of her neck..I couldn’t resist placing a soft kiss there as I unzipped her top..I then with both hands eased the top away from her arms and folded it and placed it over the seat in front…We again embraced and kissed passionately ..my fingers unclipped the hook and eyes of her bra and it sprung a little as it’s elastic eased..I gently drew the straps from over her shoulders and removed the brassier from her body, noticing as I did so the soft flow of her breasts fall from the underwear..the bra I also placed with her top.

Eve’s breasts were the full, soft breasts of a mature woman..a woman who had fed three children from those breasts..so ample, so full, so warm and yielding yet at the same time softly firm and rounded..the mark of beauty of the mature woman..not the pert hardness of a young woman’s, but better by far..the soft glow of beauty of all that is meant of a woman..all that mother nature granted as a mark of desire for a man to embrace…and embrace I did…I first kissed Eve on her lips then let my head lower to kiss her breasts, Eve caressing my neck with tender touch..First the right one and then to the left..running  the tip of my tongue around the areola to then take the nipple into my mouth to gently run my tongue around and up the side of the nipple and to softly suckle the nipple itself…so firm and yet so malleable so I flicked it several times with my tongue before drawing away to keep on with my undressing of Eve.

I unclipped and unzipped Eve’s pants and with her assistance, I took them down to her ankles and removed them entirely, folded them and placed them over the other items on the seat..that left only her underwear to remove..a soft shade of apricot to match her brassier..mostly plain but with a band of lace around the hip..with both hands at Eve’s hips, I eased her underwear down and removed it one leg at a time..I gathered the svelte cloth into one of my hands..amazed how small such an item folded into..a mere slip of cloth to cover that most pure part of a woman..I looked into Eve’s eyes and pressed that underwear onto the side of my face-cheek, placed it with the others and leant in to again kiss Eve..my left hand cupped her breast and we fell into each other..for more passionate kissing…then Eve pressed my chest away and said..

“Now it’s my turn..” and she smiled as one who was about to take a delight.

There.. in the half light of the umbra glow of a setting day, naked as the day she was born, was this curvaceous, beauty of a woman undressing me..to say I felt both flattered and excited would be a gross understatement…the male in me was burning an inferno to reach out and ravish Eve..but no..no…I would never do such…and I have to say that the restraint I was showing gave even more excitement to the moment and I took time in my awareness to make note to myself to mark this exact moment to take a mental picture to preserve this most exacting and beautiful of moments in my life..

Eve undid the buttons of my shirt, her long fingers deftly but slowly, as if making a show of the action twisting the button with her fingers and her other hand easing the shirt cloth over the button..all the while looking deep into my eyes…her experienced hands moved from button to button until she could remove the shirt from my back…her fingers running a soft touch over my back as she did so..thankfully still firmly muscular from the many years of physical labour on farm and land. I lay back so Eve could in her turn undo my belt, un-clip then unzip the fly of my trousers…I lifted my buttocks from the mattress as she took my pants down..and in doing this my male member…my cock, sprung upright in a sudden flick that took Eve by surprise and she uttered a short involuntary yelp..followed by shaking laughter and she fell onto my shoulder, tears of delight coming from her eyes..

“Oh..Oh..that did surprise me..” she gasped..” I was NOT expecting that…no undies?”

“No”..I apologetically said…”I can’t stand too much clothing about my person..so I never wear them…except when I have to visit the doctor or other “administrative locations” demanding a bit of decorum…I hope he didn’t frighten you” I added mischievously.

“Oh no…”He’s” and old acquaintance of mine…after so many years of marriage, he would wander into and out of my life like the obscure relative…though I have to say in this last decade or so he has made a stranger of himself..” and she smiled that beautiful smile and bent to kiss me again on the lips..she then completely undressed me and pushed me back onto the mattress.

Eve then traced with the tip of her tongue down my chest, her left hand pressing against my breast while she lowered her head toward my belly…I will leave your imagination to fill in other details of her delicate touching and caressing of my erect penis..sufficient to relate her taking of me in that most personal and intimate of sexual choices that both excites and dominates a man. We did after a moment of such ecstasy move our bodies in position to allow intimacy of encounter most enjoyable…

We joined in this love-making for a short time until I felt the want to excite Eve to climax and so I took moment to ease myself down her body, my tongue tipping along her breasts, down her belly till I breathed heavy on her mons Venus and then took the liberty to kiss that most treasured of part of a woman to a man..

I first breathed softly onto the lips of her vulva kissing them gently and repeatedly with a soft affection..Eve touched my hair and caressed my ears as I did so…I then let some saliva flow over the hood and labia lips to allow my tounge to move easily through the soft folds of her vulva…so with such tender touches of my tongue, I sought for and found that singular, tender place that most excites a woman..and it was to this place that I concentrated my intentions with soft, gentler yet pressing action of my tongue until after a surprising short time, I could feel Eve giving in to her body’s surrender to her climax and she started to make sighing sounds and to arch her body in time to my movements…Eve started to groan softly and she suddenly reached to feel for and found the leather belt of my trousers and placed it between her teeth so as to bite down and not raise Cain with her ecstatic cries…I could feel Eve coming to climax as her pelvis made a slight ‘crick’ and she held my head in a clasp and pulled it tight into her shuddering body until my entire mouth was filled with vulva, labia and my tongue firmly loving that most sensitive part of the woman!…her teeth biting on that leather belt so that only the softest of whispering whimpers escaped her lips..

After a short time in this position, Eve’s forceful tremors, soft cries and her grip eased and that was my cue to reverse my action and make my way up her body repeating the actions I made in coming down to once again take a missionary position to feverishly thrust my now rampant penis into her body…Let no man try to describe with weak words that feeling when the erect cock first enters a woman’s body..for to try to do so would be a blasphemy on Nature…and insult on the delight of the moment…sufficient to sigh and groan in indescribable delight and unlimited ecstasy…

It was after a short time of forcefull thrusts with Eve’s legs clasped around my body that I too came..I ejaculated into Eve’s body with a surge of uncontrolled male energy…I came…and came…and came…surge after surge until surely I was completely emptied and wasted…my body limp and exhausted..my breathing deep and panting..both of us totally rested in our crying ecstasy…we fell to our sides and embraced in delighted euphoria..kissed and lay silently and ecstatically exhausted..and there we relaxed in each other’s embrace..I had unfurled the softest tarp..the one I had repaired that covered a nice mahogany sideboard of my parent’s that I had stored in the shed..the tarpaulin was of a softer weave than the others..I unfolded this tarp and we covered our naked bodies and after soft kissing, fell asleep in each other’s arms..

Of course it was quite late and very dark when we awoke and we dressed and stepped back out into the night…Eve came close to me and we again embraced as lovers now and exchanged contact details with trembling eagerness to again get in touch to continue this budding, delightful relationship…

I drove back to my farm that night with the elation of a man wholly warmed by lovemaking, but now, with intent and direction..perhaps for the prospect of a love returned.

Pearl.

The tide had ebbed.

He was strolling down the still waxy sands, she, with her two frolicking children, aged three and five approached from the opposite direction. Suspended from a coarse, frayed piece of rope gripped in his hand, was a glass net-float. It swung, pendulum like as he walked. As they drew near to each other, their eyes met and their gaze held one another with that curious cognizance that lingers longer than is usual with strangers. A search not timid nor wanting but rather, as with like minded travellers in new lands, a polite familiarity in each other. The wide open sands of the tidal beach allowed plenty of room for personal space. The older child, a boy, saw the glass float, its surface sheen reflecting, with rhythmic precision of the swings, a shaft of evening sunlight into his eyes. He ran over and touched it, open mouthed, wide eyed and with the innocent inquisitiveness of a child.

“What is it?” he asked, his fingertips palpitating over the glass surface.

“A float, a glass float off a fishing net” the man continued to explain. The other child approached with the mother, its tiny arm clutching around the mother’s leg.

“Where did you find it?” The boy persisted.

His query remained unanswered because the man gazed at the woman who in return exchanged greetings with her eyes. He held out his hand.

“David MacKinnon”. he announced. She took the tips of his fingers lightly.

“Suzanne”. she replied with the natural caution of omitting the surname.

“What is it?” she asked. one hand waving across her face to chase away flies. The bridge of her nose pinched in a wrinkle.

He held the orb up by its rope, looking for all the world like a severed head with the bits of straggling seaweed.

“A glass float, rather old though.. they use plastic ones now.. or styrene foam..”

She didn’t remark on the information, just stared at the orb as it gently turned on its rope axis this way then that like a mesmerists fob watch, the “oily” aged glass swirled marbled with rainbow tracks.

“It’s almost… like…a pearl!” she delightfully exclaimed. there was a pause as he gazed.

“Why.. yes, yes…I suppose you could say that”. the thought attracted and attached itself to his mind. “But then it’s only appropriate to find a pearl at a pearl-fishing part of the coast.”

The little boy reached up to spin it around, but his hit swung it against the man’s body….he lowered it to the sand and let the boy roll it around…it had no value to him.

“I dug it up back there” he motioned toward a dark hulk of a wreck of a boat back up the beach, its rusty skeleton softened by a cluster of mangrove fronds over it.

“Maybe it’s from that boat?” she remarked.

“Maybe..but that’s not a fishing boat, its a pearling lugger.” he said.

“How do you know?”

“By the sweep of its’ deck, ….oh, I don’t know really..I’m just guessing…a feeling rather….it’s the way they used to build them”.

She laughed gaily.

“Well perhaps that is an old pearl.” she said pointing to the float “After all, I bet they don’t make THEM like they used to!” and they both joined in the friendly levity.

They stayed there together as the children played with the glass float. he looked intently at the children.

“I have two children myself.” He announced vaguely.. “A boy and a girl…”

“Oh…how old?”

“Seven and eleven.” ..

She nodded.

Here was comfortable ground and a chance to talk to another human being after that interminable drive up from Perth, with every town a seeming thousand miles from the next and oh! the dreadful endless road and the tedious bitumen.

“Where are you headed?” she asked.

“To Perth.. home ….And you?”

“We’re off to Darwin…to a new home….or at least we hope to call it that for the next couple of years.”

“I’ve just come from there.” (as if it was just up the road).

“Oh.. what’s the place like?”

“The tropics are beautiful this time of the year. It gets very oppressive in the “wet”….yes, I enjoyed it there.”

“What do you do for work?”

“I’m a carpenter.” he replied.

She smiled…for there was something secure about a carpenter, the thought of his hands smoothing over a piece of wood…the trueness of his eye, turning the wood, gauging the grain with a sureness of judgment to match and make….a workshop strewn with curled shavings, the odours of Pine and Fir resin…joss-sticks…sandalwood? ” Yes, a carpenter must have a patient touch” she mused.

“Are you driving straight through?” she asked.

“No…not tonight..I’ve just arrived..” he pointed to a distant campervan…

“I’ll book into a caravan park for the night. Get a bit of a clean-up.”

“There’s a nice one just up the road a little…at the edge of town, we’re camped there ourselves for the night too.” She gave this information over lightly, without invitation.. just as information.

“I s’pose that’ll do then…I’ll give it a burl..Gosh!..look at that sunset!” they both turned to face the ocean. the sinking star shimmered and quivered into the lapping mercury of sea. He snorted humorously.

“It’s a pearl too”.

They both stared silently.

“Yes.” she softly murmured “It’s quite divine..”

David turned to see the children frolicking, their stretched shadows flickering over the waxy sands…

” …and we live our lives in the shadow of the divine..” he said.

The caretaker showed an informal interest in his booking as there were few people staying there that night.

“Just find yourself a park over there near the ablutions block an you’ll be right”.

As he steered his van to the site he saw again the woman outside a station-wagon. She was with her two children.

“Hello!” he called, “Do you mind if I park nearby for the night?” and he smiled.

“Suit yourself it’ll be good company”.

They crossed paths to the showers later that evening and after more small talk agreed to sharing a coffee after the children had gone to sleep.

The sweeping silence of the night lent a comforting familiarity to the talk and it wasn’t long before they were sharing confidences and laughter.

“Yes, I did meet some real characters up there in Darwin there’s some beauties, especially in the building trade.”

“Tell me about one.” she leant over the little table in the van, her face supported by her fist under her chin.

“Ahh!..they’re too crazy”.

“No, really, tell me.” there was a tenderness attached to her inquiry.

He rubbed his fingers over his brow as he pondered, aware all the same of the purring sensuality in her voice, an early indicative sign that men interpret as woman’s intention and act instinctively. He sat upright and began.

“Here’s one….There was this bloke I knew up there…a Kiwi fellah…a contract painter…any how, he was telling me he done this big job for a wealthy family, the whole house, inside and out….a couple of months work..and they didn’t pay him…couldn’t get the money out of them….rich people can be the worst payers….and him with all the material costs, all the paint…and the other blokes he had working for him…a fortune..and it was sending him broke but he got this other job…with another wealthy family. He was up on a ladder painting the cornices with this dark, crimson paint one day and thinking of going down the tube what with these others not paying and thinking one thing an’ another an he didn’t know how he did it but he dropped his pot of paint!…and it fell outside the groundsheet!…all over the white carpet!….”Holy shit!” he cried “I can’t afford to pay for that!…” and he was just about to panic when the woman’s poodle walked past (he knew she wouldn’t be far behind)….He quickly grabbed the dog and threw it onto the spilled paint and cried in an exaggerated yell…”You little bastard!” ….the woman came rushing into the room ,threw her hands up in the air ….”Oh Pickles!…oh you naughty dog, I’m so sorry,..I’ll…. I’ll pay for the paint ”

Suzanne laughed as she threw her head back.

“Oh the rotten bugger!” she cried.

”Yes, I guess so…though I suppose he had to do something and I daresay the insurance would pay for the carpet…”

They both giggled a bit more, then a silence fell between them, and within that silence there rose in each of them a warmth of companionship and familiarity so they both knew the others desire, but the restraining codes of society held them yet apart. Instead, he pursued the desire with some small-talk.

“Huhm….and what are you going to do in Darwin?”

“Me?…oh..I work in jewellery shops…an assistant….so I suppose…” she left the answer open to the inevitable conclusion.

“Jewelry…” he repeated, his eyebrows raising swiftly. “Then I may have something that will interest you.” and he turned to reach into a drawer on the side of the van.

“Just a minute” she said, her hand raised and lay familiarly on his shoulder “I thought I heard one of the children…be back in a minute.”

When she returned. David had a small, dark wooden box on the table. It was very ornate with chunky carvings, of the chest-type from Thailand, only smaller, about ten by six inches. Suzanne pulled her stool up closer to David, her hair brushing over his shoulder, she noticed the “goose-bumps” that arose and she smiled to herself.

“And what has he got in his little black box?” she smirked…He chuckled.

Lifting the lid gently, a chamois bag was revealed, he lifted it from the chest and placed it between them on the table. Dave slowly untied the soft, woven cotton pull-string that choked the neck of the bag….slipping two fingers into the opening, he eased the bag apart wide. In the tarnished glow of the mozzie-candle, lay, like the waxen orbs of many tiny eggs in a nest, a regular bounty of…pearls!

Suzanne pursed her lips, for they were indeed attractive, and in this light, their buffed skins took on a living glow, like the promise of an egg about to hatch! she put her hand forward as if to touch, but David, not noticing her movement, had placed his own fingers into the burnished silvered cache. As he lifted the pearls up and let them fall dull-tacking back into the fold, he looked to her face . It was intent on the pearls, the dancing flame of the candle light lapping into and onto the soft features of her face, a face not yet drawn with the lines of care nor bitterness, a face still open and serene..David pondered on his own features, were they as easy to read? were his eyes still capable of showing impromptu emotion?…but he quickly dropped these introvert thoughts.. he longed to touch her…would she allow….?

“Where did you get them?”

“From a Melville Island local….they call these “roughs”, as you can see, they aren’t nicely rounded. but they are still pearls…”

“Why did you buy them ?” Suzanne asked, not taking her eyes off the luscious hoard.

“I liked the look of them.. the feel of them.. the sound as they touch each other….”

“Were they expensive?” she asked…he laughed.

“No…”  then softly, almost dream-like he ran his hand through them again. Suzy placed her hand on his shoulder…he gazed at it, then rubbed his hand over hers, they smiled together.. she turned her attention back to the pearls.

“Why do you keep them?”

“I keep them because of how they feel.. because I like how they feel.”

“I have to ask…it’s the way you run your fingers through them.”

He looked to her eyes to gauge his answer, to feel out her capacity for a simple truth…a male truth.. for there are some secrets neither men nor women would share with each other.. her eyes answered him encouragingly. He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers, she pressed her cheek against them..but how does a man reveal that named desire for the untouchable, impermissible part of a woman that he is both slave to and yet feebly jealous of without himself sounding feeble, or foolish in a description for that most powerful sexual part of a woman.

 “They remind me…” he paused in trepidation, to consider, then spoke , the timbre of his voice firm, but softly tender ” I sense…they remind me..of..a woman’s cunt.” His eyes moved away from hers to the pearls as if in apology for using such a vulgar noun, even though his pronunciation of the word was rather a reverential tone than cutting slander. But how else could he say it in truth?..He once again dipped his fingers into the pearls, their satiny surfaces making a sound like…like silver….He continued ; “sort of velvety-smooth…and pleasant to touch, a sense of moist….but these, of course, are dry..” he picked one pearl up, pinched between thumb and forefinger….he rolled it gently around the ball of his fingertip….”and by themselves, like this, they are like a woman’s erect nipple….almost firm yet…so gently pliable”.

David spoke in a detached but tender tone. Suzanne was at first taken aback at David’s description and she watched him closely, looking to detect any trace of the lecher in him, but no, while certainly he could be called a sensualist, there was not that oleaginous sleaze that is attached, film-like, to the seeking voice of the degenerate. No, he had used the description as such because in the circumstance there was no other with the strength of emotion to encompass the fierceness of that strange male hunger.

Suzanne stretched her hand over his to touch the pearls with her fingertips. The smooth opalescence of her skin in vast contrast to his tanned workman’s hands….and as she dabbled them into the glistening bag, his hand moved to the inside of her thigh….Her head came forward to rest in the crook of his shoulder, his lips sought her ear….his other hand moved down the spine of her back to lift up the base of her blouse, his touch had found her so warm..he felt his hunger for her body rise..and oh to touch that forbidden place and then to be encouraged to go further..David sighed . He freed the clasp of her bra and slipped his hand to cup her breast….her lovely breasts, so full and voluptuous he squeezed the nipple gently as she softly gyrated her hips to his caresses…

“Mmm, “she cooed….”I see what you mean.” she spoke as she fingered the pearls.

“You know?” he teased.

She smiled.

“Oh…just a wild guess..” and she pulled back arms length with her hands clasped at the back of his neck.

They sat looking at each other for a full minute without speaking, the insect-candle sending its whisper of citrine scented plume curling over their heads. David placed his hands on her hips.. it was settled, and it seemed as if some enormous overbearing weight had lifted from their hearts to be replaced by a freedom of movement liberated from the constraints of the dualism of civilized human – spiritual animal!

Suzanne moved her hand down and felt his erection…

“All rise to the power of the beast!” she laughed quietly…he chuckled with her…”how good a carpenter are you?”

“Oh…fair to middling I always try to put my heart into my work.” he smiled.

She worked his zipper down and released his “beast” from its “cell”.

“Mmm..with a bar like this you should be able to jemmy any door!” they both laughed heartily but softly, then again a small silence…Suzanne gave his penis a gentle squeeze, noting again that soft, silken feel of the hardened flesh…with the oh so gentle undulations along its length…she felt a rising anticipation for it to press against and then to enter the opening of her vagina slowly pushing in deep up to its full length…..her breath deepened at these thoughts she had…David’s words on the beach reverbetated in her mind..” … and we live our lives in the shadow of the divine.”

“Will you stay the while ?” and David patted the cushion of the seats….”It folds down to a double bed.”

She felt a sudden flush of colour rise to her cheeks, a warmth of emotions that she had not experienced since her teens when her body was master over her mind…before the demanding constraints of social convention had enslaved her desires.

“Will she stay the while?….” Suzanne repeated his request. She looked into his eyes, she leaned toward him, her breath quickened, their eyes held till the hiatus was broken by the gentle touching of their fingers intertwined….

A kiss! a kiss!

The first glimmer of dawn sweetened the charcoal sky as Suzanne changed into top gear and headed up the highway toward her ultimate destination, the memory of parting still warm on her lips. They had made love on awakening and she had left him there in the park and drove away so as to get a good start before the children awoke. A kiss and a wave of hand the last time she would see him….oh yes!..also the pearl! The pearl David had given her as a momento. She took one hand off the steering wheel to feel into her breast pocket…there it was!

She took it out, held it up in front of her eyes and gazed at it, its polished husk glowed like a moonstone….but wait!..the moon!…there, suspended in space on a lightening horizon was the full moon, as polished and opalescent as the pearl itself! a compliment to each other! she smiled as she thought of that morning’s quiet love-making in the bed and ahead of her lay the interminable road. She glanced back at the children still asleep and then, smiling wickedly, took the pearl and dexterously slipped the treasure down inside her panties to place it strategically and comfortably between the still moist lips of her vagina.

The perfect act.

It takes four different personalities to make a relationship partner..: The one for material security..Another for personal/emotional security…then another for intellectual compatibility so that leaves the fourth…perhaps the most demanding and important..; the lover…the sexual personality..

Of the four, three are provided via a pragmatic, realistic application.

The fourth can only be realised through the idea of a desire..and desire has infinity in its make-up..it can last forever..but it is like a wild beast and you have to hold it tight to your spirit..like a wild horse on a lead-rope..if you are distracted by jealousy, spite, possessiveness, it will see that weakness and break from you..only supreme passion will hold it to you in full flight.

I sometimes wake in the early hours of the morning with such a passion and I imagine someone I want to hold and share that passion, like that wild beast wanting to satiate its desire…it can go on for quite some time..and I imagine ourselves making love..with the body in full consent, it is now the mind’s turn to subject itself willingly to the body’s every desire..the mind becoming servient to the body’s sexual desires…unstoppable..unresisting.

The perfect act.

Somewhere..

Between the soul and the Divine,

Between that love you seek and the love you find,

Is a place of absolute beauty,

Is a place concealed and undefined.

You may not physically touch this place,

Like you may not touch the divine..

Only worship the possibility,

When there is no possibility..; only desire.

You cannot intellectualise this place,

Like you cannot intellectualise grace.

And like grace..once you think you have it,

You’ve lost it.

It is an avalanche of emotion..an ecstasy so nice,

It is a want of devotion, comes at a price.

You can never find this on the cheap rack,

You can never keep this with a half-filled cup.

And you ask ; do I desire thee?

What can I say to you..does the eagle the sky?

And you wonder; will I touch thee?

I say yes..yes, there, I will touch thy..

In that place with no name, no shame..

In that place where unfeigned lovers go,

Between love and the soul, between the soul and the divine,

Not of your body..but that subtle beauty in you..

Not of this world, but where pure delight is held.

not your body..but that subtle beauty within you…

not your body..but that subtle beauty concealed within you…

Where there is no name, no shame..

Only the Concealed.

It was a generous act to let me sleep on the sofa at her place..we had long been attracted to each other, but circumstances allowed no capacity to carry any ambitions further..but a job opportunity in the country nearby, allowed the generous favour of letting me bunk down in her lounge..and there I would lay quietly listening in sensuous impatience to her movements as she went about her preparations for bedtime..I was not to learn till later when we finally had the chance to come together in a relationship that on those nights of the short time I spent there sleeping in her lounge, she made it a point in her undressing to do it as quiet as possible so I would have no chance to either actually hear or to imagine I was hearing her taking off her clothes..taking off her dress, her underwear…but as I replied when told of this infamy..it didn’t stop me imagining it..not at all…in fact my straining both my ears and my passion TO HEAR of that wonderful feminine virtue to a man..I over-imagined the entire act..

I remember that affair I had when in my twenties and it started with me brushing her long, thick dark hair….slowly, gently with my other hand trailing through after the brush….it was so beautiful that hair…that touch…she was wearing a nightgown and as it turned out nothing underneath..and we were talking while she brushed her hair..and I suddenly asked ;

“Can I do that…let me brush your hair?”…at first Diedre…”Dee” as I came to call her later…demurred a little..

“Do it carefully..don’t pull on it if it tangles…” of course I promised..and indeed I made certain to take extra care while I performed this extraordinarily delightful experience..for how many women would allow a man to touch one of the most precious of her glories?

Diedre handed me the brush and we settled ourselves on the sofa with her back between my knees while I took those long, thick locks of hair in my left hand and followed through most, most gently with long strokes of the brush…of course I had an objective in mind..I too am servant to desire…my male desire..and as it  turned out, both our desires, for it was but a short time of this intimate brushing of Dee’s hair that she let herself settle back into my crotch and I placed the brush on the floor by the side of the sofa and with my kissing her on the crown of her head, I slipped my hands down, under her dressing gown to cup her warm breasts…and so it began.

…we had a lovely affair for some time..

Unfortunately, as I mentioned above with those four conditions for a relationship, I could not fulfill some of those necessities…and myself being most aware of my shortcomings in that area, I slipped out of the relationship before it could descent into an acrimony of disappointment..perhaps I was more of a coward than I then realised..but I plead the innocence of youth and a desire for adventure in the world that a settled life could not satisfy.

But there was a time in that relationship where we touched that place between the soul and the divine..it does exist, that precious place, that ecstasy that can be reached either through a loving moment of embracing or through a moment of passionate sexual activity…it was the latter in our case that we reached the height of ecstasy of sexual pleasure..

I had completed a job up north on the mines and was returning to the city, to stop and see Diedre on the way through..She had shipped off her no-account boyfriend for the weekend to some motor-racing carnival so we could have some time together. But this wasn’t just a “dirty weekend”, for we did have deep affection for each other and as I said, it lasted for quite some time so the night ahead was a planned thing with dinner at home, some wine and then to a bath to soak those long weeks up in the bush out of my pores…

I had chopped some wood for the fire so it would be going strong by the time we finished our bath…and that was the start of the pleasure of the night..and it was a fun night in that we giggled and laughed our way to it and through it…love on a high-note…The bath was one of those square ones so we both squeezed into it…and we played with the soap suds and teased each other with our toes exploring each other’s genitals in a playful way..all laughter and fun as we soaped each other with thick lather of the aromatic soap…and I have to say that the lathering of a woman’s body is a sensuous thing..while the male body may have hair on chest or face, women have that soft, smooth run of flesh that lets the hands slip and slide over the curves and valleys of that most delightful shaped body..what man would not lay his pride and manhood as trophy to the feet of such beauty if called for…no greater reward could be given than the loving favours of a particular woman one is in love with..

After the bath, we stood before the fire towelling each other dry..a most delicate action to be sensitive to those particular parts of the body that need close attention…on the male, particularly, it takes a gentle hand of a woman in drying those most delicate appendages of his manhood…a rough hand cannot give confidence…fortunately, Diedre had that most gentle touch of the caring woman..after wrapping one towel around my shoulders, she used another towel to caress dry my lower limbs and trunk..then to move to very carefully dry those most delicate parts…and with a cheeky smile and partially open mouth with her tongue playing teasingly upon her lips, she slowly and silently dabbed at my genitals with all the care and affection of a lover…

After Diedre had finished drying myself, I hooked the towel around my waist and proceeded to dry Diedre in turn…she had her hair wrapped in a towel around her head and another towel around her body at breast level…it was this one that I removed by the light of the glowing fire..and by the living gods…is there even in paradise a more gasping sight of evolved beauty than the body of a woman in full feminine glory..can simple words of adoration give justice to a man’s gasping of breath when confronted suddenly with such purity of beauty..it was that sight that drew the breath into my lungs in a wholesome inhale that filled both my body and my sight with gorgeous delight at this vision before me…how can something be so beautiful?…oh woman..I die for you..I die a thousand deaths for you..

“Diedre…you..you look so beautiful..”

“ You think so, Christopher, that’s nice…then let me be beautiful for you…I’ll be your beauty..”……how does a man reply to such a gift?..except to kiss that most delightful woman with unspared passion..and kiss we did as we knelt there on our knees in front of the soft glow of the fire…

I dried that extordinary body with all the care and affection that I could give…I dried her shoulders and arms, then moved to her breasts that were full and soft..large enough to be dropped but full rounded and pert with lovely tan areolas and erect nipples..I put gentle attention to those twin delights, then moved to dry her belly and then pat dry her vulva and Mons Venus…taking the towel away for a moment to apply a gentle kiss to that soft copse above her pussy..the drying done, we settled before the fire in loving embrace and proceeded to make preparation with gentle touching for the lovemaking soon to come.

And that was to start sooner than I could imagine as Diedre lay me flat on my back and reached for a small opaque blue bottle that I soon discovered contained aromatic body oil….warmed in front of the fire, I let her drizzle oil over my chest and stomach which she then proceeded to gently rub evenly over all my body…using both hands to caress the oil over my penis and testicles, her hands slipping over those parts with tender euphoria of feeling..I repeated the same application of the body oil onto Diedre’s body with all the delight of a male’s pleasure to touch a woman’s body.

With oil generously applied over our entire bodies, back and front, we slithered in laughing joy over each other, our limbs like slippery tentacles entwining around and over each other and we were kissing in a delightful enthral of passion and sensuality.

This writhing on the rug went on for a while before we decided to move into the bedroom onto Diedre’s queen-sized bed…there were black sheets and pillows there and we fell onto those cool cotton sheets in giggling ecstasy, still slippery with oil and arms and hands all around and over each other…

It wasn’t too long before we fell into position to make love..Diedre’s arms around my shoulders and her legs over my back embracing me in a clasp…it was no action needed for my erect cock to find its way to the entrance of Diedre’s vagina…the body oil and mutual enthusiasm all that was needed to introduce the one to the other…coupling was ensured, and then gentle copulation followed..at first with the cautious entrance of the erect penis into the vaginal passage until full insertion is completed..then a pause for both bodies to become familiar with the intrusion of the male member deep inside the woman’s body…for it is a moment desirous of tender meditation and contemplation, this action of copulation…no need to hurry the moment..let gentle touch of penis to vagina take place…THEN..the slow repeat of withdrawal and insertion with familiarity and heightened pleasure for both parties..

I could feel my cock all around and right along its length being caressed inside Diedre’s vagina…no words can describe such feelings..no words can possibly do justice to even imagine that sensation..

“Can you feel that?” Diedre asked.

“How so?” I asked in curiosity…then I felt it!…with her vagina she could tighten the entrance muscles to tighten around my cock as I moved it in and out in gentle pulses…

“That’s amazing!” I admitted..and indeed, the action hightened the sensation.

“I can do it better if you ride me from behind..” she smiled at me and I fell into that deep, deep pool of serene adoration…

We moved into position for me to enter her from the rear..in what is called “doggy position”..and indeed, Diedre was as true as her word as I could feel her vagina tighten and loosen around my pulsating cock as I rode her in a more and more vigorous passion..indeed you could say Diedre was “milking” me…her hands holding onto the vertical bars of the bedhead…my hands in tight grip on her hips..my body crashing onto Diedre’s buttocks with sloppy sounding delight and her gorgeous bottom-flesh rolling in waves with each delightful meeting..and her vaginal muscle contracting and tightening in coordinated unison to the rhythm of my plunging penis, until I could feel that surge of heat telling me that orgasm was about to happen and happen it did with an ecstasy uncontrolled and euphoric..one after the other..after the other..after the other…until I literally fell from her buttocks in exhausted ecstasy…Diedre quickly moved into position on top of me where I could apply my mouth to her vulva as I licked and caressed her most sensitive part with wonderful glee…while Diedre played with my now half erect and exhausted cock…the entire sense now one of body-fluids and gentle giggling until Diedre started herself to come with forceful thrusts of her vulva onto my only too willing mouth until with cries of ecstasy she lowered herself fully along my body in groaning relief and smiling delight…

It was while in this position, post copulation, in resting euphoria that I realised that we were held in a different place than just resting..we had entered that mysterious place that holds lovers in a state of passion and euphoria, sheltered from intrusion from the outside world..we were here alone in a kind of bubble of peace and tranquility…soaked in our own body-fluids and sweat and smeared oil and saliva…completely awash in ecstasy with no inhibitions or reservations, to envelope ourselves in absolute perfection of lovemaking and sexual decadence….a perfect act of submission….the perfect act.