Post by goldenmyst on Jul 4, 2018 21:49:50 GMT -6
Spring Has Sprung
My cousin Rosie and I lay on the yellow sandy creek beach looking at the pink glow of sunrise in the eastern sky. She reclines on her side facing me. I am supine in the sublimity of spring. We are both eighteen and too old for wading in the creek. But spring has sprung and the desire to get more than our feet wet is strong.
Rosie’s irises are azure as glacial ice. Her complexion is that of French vanilla. Her hair is like fine corn silk which lusters in the summer sun. Her hair giggles when she walks.
At St. Catherine Creek the water appears on fire and sparkles in the early morning sunlight. The clay bluffs, which loom over the opposite bank, are suffused with rosy pastel dawn light and are reminiscent of a western canyon where solitude is plentiful. My peaceful thoughts flock like Robins in this Cathedral of clay and water. Here we gaze at the shimmering water as it ripples across the sand. Puffs of mist slowly roll across the water which trickles over pebbles. The forest around the creek is alive with the chirping of crickets and tree frogs. As the sun turns from scarlet to yellow, Rosie asks me, “Have you ever been skinny dipping?”
I reply, “Nope. I’m not that daring.”
“Paulie, you don’t know what you’re missing.”
Rosie begins taking off her shirt and exposes her supple breasts. I sit up and begin taking off my shirt but hesitate in the blush of boyhood. She tugs my shirt over my shoulders giggling. Then she unzips my pants. The unmistakable result of her electrifying feminine touch leaves me visibly aroused. My resistance is quickly overcome. I stand up as she slips my shorts and underwear to my ankles. I clumsily step out of them. I have goosebumps from the early morning cool.
Now the sky is bright blue with wispy cirrus clouds. Rosie slips her jeans off along with her panties. Then she dashes into the creek with a splash. I follow her. My foot sinks into some soft mud making me tumble into the water. Cool water flows over my body. Rosie kicks the water splashing me.
I push myself upright, onto my feet, and crouch down gazing at her. She looks giddy from the excitement. I spring up like a frog, tackle her, and we both fall laughing into the water. I pin her down in the water until she grabs my shoulders and pushes me under her.
I look up at her. She is dappled with beads of
water and her skin glistens like jewels in the sunshine. She leans down and brushes my lips lightly with hers.
She asks, “Did you like going nekkid with me?”
I say, “It was better than pizza.”
She closes her eyes laughing. “You’re crazy. You know that don’t you?” I pat Rosie on the derriere, with her weight on my manhood.
I splash her. She says, “You’re going to get it!”
She shoves my head under the creek water. I shove her off with my hips. She screams and laughs, as I hold her by her ankles. Then with a steady tug on her bottom, I pull her back into the water. Rosie begins splashing water into my eyes. I curl up in a fetal position, turning my back to her. Rosie says, “You’ve been a bad boy Paulie.” Then she slaps me across my bottom. The report echoes from the bluffs.
I say, “Alright, I give up. I surrender.”
She says, “There’s more where that came from. You better behave.” I squat down looking at her crouched with her bottom immersed in the water leaving a wake.
We wade barefoot through the cool water. Our
frolic finds its completion when we sit in the water. Rosie’s legs are parted in a weir to let the eddies swirl in the space between. The gentle cycling of water makes her Venus-plats quake like an aspen. The water cartwheels onto her sex.
We face each other sharing sassafras smiles. I grab a chunk of wet red clay and paint her face in stripes. I squeeze her bird-delicate shoulders. Her eyes close into mystic rosebuds. Her body quivers, under my touch, like a wild doe in the presence of humans. Thus I finger-paint her bare breasts with frescos of fiery suns radiating from her nipples.
Rosie smiles like dawn on the first morning. Birds sing her praise like a choir of angels. We join hands in a circle of life and dance in rings of love’s sweet delight. “Hey, yah, Hey, yah” we chant under the bowl of sky. Our bare feet sink into the wet clay making love to the earth. We settle into the unbroken chain.
We dress and lay on our beach towels. Rosie looks up at the distant blue sky. The sky beckons my gaze as well. I can see why the ancients identified the sky with heaven. I wonder if it seems far away because I imagine it to be so.
We watch a large cumulus cloud change shape high in the sky. I try to imagine what the shape resembles. Rosie tells me that it resembles a large dragon flying through the sky. After a few minutes the cloud metamorphoses once more. She points up at the cloud and says, “Look Paulie.” “Now it is a fish.”
Rosie says wistfully, “If life is a dream, Paulie, all we can do is enjoy the dream as long as it lasts. If the dream is a happy dream then it is good.”
My cousin Rosie and I lay on the yellow sandy creek beach looking at the pink glow of sunrise in the eastern sky. She reclines on her side facing me. I am supine in the sublimity of spring. We are both eighteen and too old for wading in the creek. But spring has sprung and the desire to get more than our feet wet is strong.
Rosie’s irises are azure as glacial ice. Her complexion is that of French vanilla. Her hair is like fine corn silk which lusters in the summer sun. Her hair giggles when she walks.
At St. Catherine Creek the water appears on fire and sparkles in the early morning sunlight. The clay bluffs, which loom over the opposite bank, are suffused with rosy pastel dawn light and are reminiscent of a western canyon where solitude is plentiful. My peaceful thoughts flock like Robins in this Cathedral of clay and water. Here we gaze at the shimmering water as it ripples across the sand. Puffs of mist slowly roll across the water which trickles over pebbles. The forest around the creek is alive with the chirping of crickets and tree frogs. As the sun turns from scarlet to yellow, Rosie asks me, “Have you ever been skinny dipping?”
I reply, “Nope. I’m not that daring.”
“Paulie, you don’t know what you’re missing.”
Rosie begins taking off her shirt and exposes her supple breasts. I sit up and begin taking off my shirt but hesitate in the blush of boyhood. She tugs my shirt over my shoulders giggling. Then she unzips my pants. The unmistakable result of her electrifying feminine touch leaves me visibly aroused. My resistance is quickly overcome. I stand up as she slips my shorts and underwear to my ankles. I clumsily step out of them. I have goosebumps from the early morning cool.
Now the sky is bright blue with wispy cirrus clouds. Rosie slips her jeans off along with her panties. Then she dashes into the creek with a splash. I follow her. My foot sinks into some soft mud making me tumble into the water. Cool water flows over my body. Rosie kicks the water splashing me.
I push myself upright, onto my feet, and crouch down gazing at her. She looks giddy from the excitement. I spring up like a frog, tackle her, and we both fall laughing into the water. I pin her down in the water until she grabs my shoulders and pushes me under her.
I look up at her. She is dappled with beads of
water and her skin glistens like jewels in the sunshine. She leans down and brushes my lips lightly with hers.
She asks, “Did you like going nekkid with me?”
I say, “It was better than pizza.”
She closes her eyes laughing. “You’re crazy. You know that don’t you?” I pat Rosie on the derriere, with her weight on my manhood.
I splash her. She says, “You’re going to get it!”
She shoves my head under the creek water. I shove her off with my hips. She screams and laughs, as I hold her by her ankles. Then with a steady tug on her bottom, I pull her back into the water. Rosie begins splashing water into my eyes. I curl up in a fetal position, turning my back to her. Rosie says, “You’ve been a bad boy Paulie.” Then she slaps me across my bottom. The report echoes from the bluffs.
I say, “Alright, I give up. I surrender.”
She says, “There’s more where that came from. You better behave.” I squat down looking at her crouched with her bottom immersed in the water leaving a wake.
We wade barefoot through the cool water. Our
frolic finds its completion when we sit in the water. Rosie’s legs are parted in a weir to let the eddies swirl in the space between. The gentle cycling of water makes her Venus-plats quake like an aspen. The water cartwheels onto her sex.
We face each other sharing sassafras smiles. I grab a chunk of wet red clay and paint her face in stripes. I squeeze her bird-delicate shoulders. Her eyes close into mystic rosebuds. Her body quivers, under my touch, like a wild doe in the presence of humans. Thus I finger-paint her bare breasts with frescos of fiery suns radiating from her nipples.
Rosie smiles like dawn on the first morning. Birds sing her praise like a choir of angels. We join hands in a circle of life and dance in rings of love’s sweet delight. “Hey, yah, Hey, yah” we chant under the bowl of sky. Our bare feet sink into the wet clay making love to the earth. We settle into the unbroken chain.
We dress and lay on our beach towels. Rosie looks up at the distant blue sky. The sky beckons my gaze as well. I can see why the ancients identified the sky with heaven. I wonder if it seems far away because I imagine it to be so.
We watch a large cumulus cloud change shape high in the sky. I try to imagine what the shape resembles. Rosie tells me that it resembles a large dragon flying through the sky. After a few minutes the cloud metamorphoses once more. She points up at the cloud and says, “Look Paulie.” “Now it is a fish.”
Rosie says wistfully, “If life is a dream, Paulie, all we can do is enjoy the dream as long as it lasts. If the dream is a happy dream then it is good.”
