Precious Memories

He sat in the old swing on his back porch and looked out across the back lawn. It was only a few years ago that he used to sit in that same swing and look out at the sea from his front porch on the island. He loved old porch swings. So many memories could be made and relived in them. Tonight his mind went to little mountain town, reliving precious moments.

He remembered that when the two of them had walked into the noisy, smoke-filled bar that last night, he had felt like a cat on a hot tin roof. He wanted to be with her; he did not want to share their last night together with the world. Still, they had only met that week, and as strong as the chemistry between them seemed, he was still uncertain whether the feelings he felt were mutual.

He smiled as he remembered finally looking at the watch he seldom wore, and saying to the benefit of anyone within earshot that he needed to call home. She had smiled and said she needed to do the same. He had innocently invited her to walk with him to a phone. He wondered if she knew at the time that he had no intentions of returning to the bar---if he could avoid it. Truth was that he would have returned anywhere to be by her side that night. He wondered if she had felt the shiver that ran through him as he touched the small of her back as they walked from the smoky room?

They had walked the short distance to the bed and breakfast where he was staying. When they arrived they were greeted by two of his friends, sitting on the front porch of the old house, also waiting to use the phone. The four had engaged in small talk until his friends had finally called it a night.

They had continued sitting in the old front porch swing long after other guests had gone to bed. He really wasn't sure of how long they had been there, but knew he could have listened to her for hours. Their conversation had been in whispers as they told life stories while watching the full moon rise over the campus across West Main Street from the inn. Finally, he had gotten up the nerve to look into her eyes and tell her how much he would love to leave the old swing and go upstairs and just hold her. He wasn't sure she believed the truth or innocence in what he wished for, but quietly they had climbed the old staircase to his room.

He would never forget her coming from the bathroom and climbing onto the bed beside him. It felt so natural having her snuggled close to him with her head on his shoulder. In his arms her petite body felt so fragile. That night something else felt so natural---their lips coming together. He had expected nothing from her. Yes, he wanted to hold her, but as hard as it may have been for her to believe, he knew he would not make love to her that night---if ever. The feelings he had for her went far deeper than desire for a physical relationship. From the moment their eyes had met in the classroom, there had been an unexplainable connection. The first time they touched in the hallway was his first hint that maybe, just maybe the feelings were mutual. There was one thing he knew for sure---he wanted to know her, to be her friend, to enjoy the evolution of a special friendship that seemed so rare these days. In his mind he knew he would do nothing to damage their evolving friendship.

A shiver ran through him as he remembered their first passionate kiss. Passionate kisses had seemed to enflame deeper desires in both of them. His kisses had moved hesitantly over her ears and down her neck. She felt so perfect in his embrace. He was overcome with desire to touch---to kiss every inch of her beautiful body, yet a fear of her reaction had held him back. The first touch of her breast was still a mystery to him; he only remembered sensing no resistance as he pulled her top up from her waist. Like so much they experienced that night, the vision of her black bra and the beautiful breast it covered was an image that would bring back smiles forever. In the dim light of the small bedside lamp he had exposed her breast. Her nipples had been as hard as precious stones. Like a work of art, he had wanted to stare at her body and consume it, all at the same time. He knew that any moment she could stop him, yet the desire to kiss and explore every inch of her body remained. He wanted to explore, to savor so slowly, but time was not on their side. The hour was late.

His mind had raced ahead as his kisses had traveled down the center of her sensuously flat tummy. For a moment he stopped at the waist of her slacks---but only for a moment. Something told him she wanted to feel his exploration as much as he wanted to explore. Carefully he had unbuttoned her slacks, wondering if or when she might stop him. When his kisses reached the soft, silky curls of her womanhood he was delirious with desire to give her pleasure with his kisses. He had wondered if she trusted him to do that, and only that. He knew from conversation that they were not treading on pleasures she had not shared with another man since her marriage fourteen years before. He was torn to stop and proceed, all at the same time.

He had taken a deep breath and committed to himself that he could stop short of taking their relationship from that of an evolving friendship to a passionate friendship. He wanted so much to taste her sweet nectar---and to give her pleasure in the most tender and intimate of ways.

He slipped her slacks over her hips, and stopped for a moment to admire her beautiful body before slipping her panties down to follow her slacks to their place at the foot of the bed. Again, he had stopped to admire her beautiful petite body. The fact that they were sharing such an intimate experience had sent a shiver of pleasure through him. As he had stared at her, he had thought of standing and removing his clothes before proceeding. It was not so much that he had wanted to make love to her that evening; he simply wanted to be near her---to feel their bodies touch, flesh to flesh, in another passionate embrace. Something---a promise he had made himself---made him think better of it. The last thing he wanted was to cross the line and leave her with regrets of their very special final evening together. Tonight he would give her pleasure, an intimate, unselfish pleasure. If they were to ever cross the imaginary line of intimacy it would be a conscience decision rather than one made in the heat of passion.

He slipped toward the end of the bed and lay with his head between her open legs. He looked up to see her eyes closed as if in anticipation. The moment his lips touched the object of his desire he felt her slender fingers gently grip each side of his head. Her sweet nectar was intoxicating. In moments he lost all track of time. He wished the evening never had to end. He had wondered if she heard his low moan of excitement as he had felt her tender body envelop him when his fingers joined his lips and tongue in play. Suddenly he had felt her nails tightening against his scalp as she pressed her womanhood firmly against his lips. Something told him that a certain pleasure was sweeping through her body like a wave building over the ocean before crashing to the shore. As quickly as it began he felt her pushing his lips away from her sensitive little magic button. He looked up to see her head turned to the side and her eyes closed. He only hoped she had enjoyed the experience as much as he had.

Before the night ended they again enjoyed their special intimacy. Again, her actions and reactions were the same. As she has caught her breath, he slipped up to hold her in his arms. Through heated breath she had whispered, "I'm sorry; we've got to stop." He was not sure she believed him when he told her they did not have to go any further; that he had no expectations of her. For a short while they held each tenderly before he whispered, "I'd better get you home." He wondered if she knew how much he hated uttering those five words. One of the most enjoyable evenings of his life ended with a warm, tender kiss inside the doorway of her room. He had left hoping the intimacy they had shared strengthened the bond between them, rather than driving her away. He knew only time would tell.

That evening as he lay in bed, in the exact spot where she had lay, he relived every moment of their evening. The quiet conversation while sitting in the rockers on the porch overlooking town square. The stolen touches beneath the table at dinner and at the smoky bar. The porch swing conversation that seemed to strengthen the growing bond between them and the precious time they spent together on the very spot he now lay in the double bed.

He fell asleep that evening, not knowing what the future held for them. Now as he sat in the old swing on his back porch his imagination raced with thought of their next precious moments together. He hoped that somehow she would understand that he had no more expectations than he had that Thursday night when they shared precious moments of tender intimacy.