Post by goldenmyst on Sept 30, 2018 20:02:24 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 twenty 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.
Though Natchez, Mississippi is our home, our ancestors migrated from the olive groves of Andalusia and the vineyards of Bordeaux to Louisiana where they mated. So our dispositions sync in a lively fandango but at times we move together in a slow-moving Parisian Waltz. Our family is fifth generation American. Our accents are that of Mississippi farm girls and boys.
At St. Catherine Creek the water appears on fire and sparkles in the early morning sunlight. The red clay bluffs, which tower over the opposite bank, are suffused with rosy pastel dawn light.
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 results of her electrifying feminine touch leave 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. She says, “Take a load off your feet. Have a seat.” Cool water flows over my bottom. 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. She squats like a frog, faces me, and wrestles me until we both fall laughing into the water. 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!”
I shove her off with my hips. She screams and laughs, as with a steady tug on her bottom, I pull her back into the water. 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 look 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. Her finger dance summons her face into a tantric trance.
I see her in the throes of passion. She laughs and says, “Don’t look.” But her deep breathing indicates that she is so close that she cannot for the life of her turn back now. The water cartwheels onto her sex. Not wanting to spoil the moment I remain quiet. I just watch her as her revelry draws to a conclusion. My body feels fluid as I witness her act of self-love. Rivers of corpuscles throb through my web of arteries. The coronae of her opened eyes glow upon completion of her rites of spring. She sits back and pants in spent exhaustion. I smile knowingly.
“Sorry if I’m intruding Rosie.”
“Of course not!” she giggles.
“You look like the girl who got the golden egg.”
“I feel like the kid who got caught with her hand in the cookie jar,” she says.
Her femininity is laid bare with her orchid offering to me. She says, “Mister I’ve been a naughty girl.” She looks at me with puppy eyes. She pouts and says, “Sir, do I get the ruler this time?”
I say, “Now Rosie, you’re a good girl. I won’t tell your Mama what you just did.”
“Oh, you are so bad, Paulie. Please don’t tell my mother. She thinks I grew out of it.”
Rosie says, “Do you ever fantasize about a ménage à trios? Of course, you do, just follow my lead.” She lays me face down in my aquamarine blanket. Rosie sits beside me in the cool stream. She kneads my derriere with her loving hands. My legs are parted in humble submission to the tendrils of water which pulse against my mystic manhood.
My beloved’s touch sparks a tiny star which ignites into a stellar furnace of carnal bloom with my bare body soaked in the creek water. She spanks and rocks my supple buttocks in a ménage à trios with the earth Goddess whose wet sand is a cocoon of liquid nurturing that fellates the woody I pop.
“Paul, how did it feel to make love to a creek
bed?”
“Superb. But hey I’m stuck in quicksand.”
Rosie calls 911. “Help! My cousin is stuck in quicksand!”
“Calm down Ma’am. Firemen are on their way.”
“Oh, I’m so embarrassed. Ma’am he is butt nekkid.”
“What was he doing nude in the creek?”
“We were cooling off after sunbathing naked for an even tan. Here I’ll let him speak for himself. Paul, take the phone and talk to this lady.”
I can hardly form a word due to my panting. Rosie takes the phone back. The emergency lady says, “He sounds like he just had sex. Were you giving him oral or manual stimulation?”
Rosie says, “What kind of woman do you take me for? To tell you the truth he was making love to the creek bed.”
“Is he erect?”
“She wants to know if you have got a hardon?”
I respond, “Yes, I still have a woody.”
Rosie tells the lady, “Paulie said he is still hard. I’m so sorry Ma’am; it was my idea; please forgive me.”
She replies, “That’s all right hun. We won’t send our ladies down there to spare their eyes.”
Rosie covers the mic with her hand. “Paul, try to go soft. Think of being immersed in ice water, Arctic ice.”
Rosie tells the 911 lady, “Ma’am, he pulled out all by himself. I’m so proud of him and relieved. But is this going to be on the news? My Mom would be mortified.”
Rosie rises from the creek in naked liberation like a slave girl unshackled from her gold chains. We face each other sharing sassafras smiles. We dress and lay on our towels. “Paulie, profess your love for me right here in secret. Do you love me more than any Hollywood vamp? Will you abstain from putting up posters of sex symbols?”
“I do love you more than any graven image. Though I have posters of flapper girls in my bedroom they shall come down out of respect for you.”
“Oh, Paulie you’ll even forsake those hotties for me? That is the ultimate sacrifice. But I have a couple of questions for you before we go steady. If a Pompeiian woman came alive, stepped off an erotic fresco, and offered to fulfill your most decadent fantasies would you stay with me?”
I answer, “Of course I would. How could a Roman floozy even begin to compare to you my Venus Botticelli?”
She says, “Oh Paulie I am swooning. Now, if a kidnapper said, ‘It’s either you or the girl’ what would you do?”
I reply, “I’d do what any true gentleman would do. Does that answer your question?”
Rosie exclaims, “Yes! Yes, it does.” She is breathless. “Paulie, I feel my youth slipping away. Hold onto me and never let go.”
I say, “When we’re drinking age we’ll have even more fun together.”
“I want to have fun now Paulie. I’m a girl armed with fiery fingers. I’m aiming my seduction at your erogenous zone. Feel my hypnotist stroke upon your leg. Hear my smoky voice pray to your male deity. Rise in fulfillment of my prophecy of touch.”
I say, “We’re only young once. Let’s do it well.”
“Thanks for reining me in Paulie. I was ready to gallop. But you took me on a good trot. I needed that. I needed you to chaperone me.”
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 twenty 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.
Though Natchez, Mississippi is our home, our ancestors migrated from the olive groves of Andalusia and the vineyards of Bordeaux to Louisiana where they mated. So our dispositions sync in a lively fandango but at times we move together in a slow-moving Parisian Waltz. Our family is fifth generation American. Our accents are that of Mississippi farm girls and boys.
At St. Catherine Creek the water appears on fire and sparkles in the early morning sunlight. The red clay bluffs, which tower over the opposite bank, are suffused with rosy pastel dawn light.
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 results of her electrifying feminine touch leave 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. She says, “Take a load off your feet. Have a seat.” Cool water flows over my bottom. 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. She squats like a frog, faces me, and wrestles me until we both fall laughing into the water. 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!”
I shove her off with my hips. She screams and laughs, as with a steady tug on her bottom, I pull her back into the water. 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 look 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. Her finger dance summons her face into a tantric trance.
I see her in the throes of passion. She laughs and says, “Don’t look.” But her deep breathing indicates that she is so close that she cannot for the life of her turn back now. The water cartwheels onto her sex. Not wanting to spoil the moment I remain quiet. I just watch her as her revelry draws to a conclusion. My body feels fluid as I witness her act of self-love. Rivers of corpuscles throb through my web of arteries. The coronae of her opened eyes glow upon completion of her rites of spring. She sits back and pants in spent exhaustion. I smile knowingly.
“Sorry if I’m intruding Rosie.”
“Of course not!” she giggles.
“You look like the girl who got the golden egg.”
“I feel like the kid who got caught with her hand in the cookie jar,” she says.
Her femininity is laid bare with her orchid offering to me. She says, “Mister I’ve been a naughty girl.” She looks at me with puppy eyes. She pouts and says, “Sir, do I get the ruler this time?”
I say, “Now Rosie, you’re a good girl. I won’t tell your Mama what you just did.”
“Oh, you are so bad, Paulie. Please don’t tell my mother. She thinks I grew out of it.”
Rosie says, “Do you ever fantasize about a ménage à trios? Of course, you do, just follow my lead.” She lays me face down in my aquamarine blanket. Rosie sits beside me in the cool stream. She kneads my derriere with her loving hands. My legs are parted in humble submission to the tendrils of water which pulse against my mystic manhood.
My beloved’s touch sparks a tiny star which ignites into a stellar furnace of carnal bloom with my bare body soaked in the creek water. She spanks and rocks my supple buttocks in a ménage à trios with the earth Goddess whose wet sand is a cocoon of liquid nurturing that fellates the woody I pop.
“Paul, how did it feel to make love to a creek
bed?”
“Superb. But hey I’m stuck in quicksand.”
Rosie calls 911. “Help! My cousin is stuck in quicksand!”
“Calm down Ma’am. Firemen are on their way.”
“Oh, I’m so embarrassed. Ma’am he is butt nekkid.”
“What was he doing nude in the creek?”
“We were cooling off after sunbathing naked for an even tan. Here I’ll let him speak for himself. Paul, take the phone and talk to this lady.”
I can hardly form a word due to my panting. Rosie takes the phone back. The emergency lady says, “He sounds like he just had sex. Were you giving him oral or manual stimulation?”
Rosie says, “What kind of woman do you take me for? To tell you the truth he was making love to the creek bed.”
“Is he erect?”
“She wants to know if you have got a hardon?”
I respond, “Yes, I still have a woody.”
Rosie tells the lady, “Paulie said he is still hard. I’m so sorry Ma’am; it was my idea; please forgive me.”
She replies, “That’s all right hun. We won’t send our ladies down there to spare their eyes.”
Rosie covers the mic with her hand. “Paul, try to go soft. Think of being immersed in ice water, Arctic ice.”
Rosie tells the 911 lady, “Ma’am, he pulled out all by himself. I’m so proud of him and relieved. But is this going to be on the news? My Mom would be mortified.”
Rosie rises from the creek in naked liberation like a slave girl unshackled from her gold chains. We face each other sharing sassafras smiles. We dress and lay on our towels. “Paulie, profess your love for me right here in secret. Do you love me more than any Hollywood vamp? Will you abstain from putting up posters of sex symbols?”
“I do love you more than any graven image. Though I have posters of flapper girls in my bedroom they shall come down out of respect for you.”
“Oh, Paulie you’ll even forsake those hotties for me? That is the ultimate sacrifice. But I have a couple of questions for you before we go steady. If a Pompeiian woman came alive, stepped off an erotic fresco, and offered to fulfill your most decadent fantasies would you stay with me?”
I answer, “Of course I would. How could a Roman floozy even begin to compare to you my Venus Botticelli?”
She says, “Oh Paulie I am swooning. Now, if a kidnapper said, ‘It’s either you or the girl’ what would you do?”
I reply, “I’d do what any true gentleman would do. Does that answer your question?”
Rosie exclaims, “Yes! Yes, it does.” She is breathless. “Paulie, I feel my youth slipping away. Hold onto me and never let go.”
I say, “When we’re drinking age we’ll have even more fun together.”
“I want to have fun now Paulie. I’m a girl armed with fiery fingers. I’m aiming my seduction at your erogenous zone. Feel my hypnotist stroke upon your leg. Hear my smoky voice pray to your male deity. Rise in fulfillment of my prophecy of touch.”
I say, “We’re only young once. Let’s do it well.”
“Thanks for reining me in Paulie. I was ready to gallop. But you took me on a good trot. I needed that. I needed you to chaperone me.”
