Summer Valentine Day 02

DAY TWO

I awakened shortly before dawn to feel Maria's arms cradling me with the right leg hooked over my hip. I laid there waiting for my morning wood to subside, experiencing all of her: warm skin, the spongy sensation of a breast on my shoulder and unkept waves of natural brunette downy locks. Her body shifted as I tried to rise and roll her on to the back. As a kneeled to brush an unruly strand of hair, the first light of day arose like a spotlight, framing her face like an angel. The glowing white shirt illuminated her face contrasting dark features still hidden in the shade.

"Hello, hello," I murmured quietly. The words brought her to the moment as she opened her eyes, yawned, and stretched her arms. "Let's hurry to catch the sunrise."

Maria held out a hand saying, "help me up." She staggered for a moment as she arose, my left arm taking the full weight and feeling unrestricted natural boobs. They were heavy, soft yet firm. Maria never ceased to amaze me. Allowing me the luxury of an extra minute of contact, she grabbed my hand to pull me to the top of the bluff. The tiny nymph was strong.

She folded nicely into an embrace but placed my interlocked hands directly on her belly. I know you would love to explore them, but my Barenaked Ladies are off limits," that giggle and raised register of her voice expressed a playful mood.

My tiny slip of a girl was really a mature woman, ripe in her sexuality, with dreamy brown eyes, luscious lips, wide hips, and flawless tits. It was difficult to connect this diva with the shy, intelligent funny writer I had come to know. Bringing my mind back to the present I broke the embrace, "I would love to stand here with you all day, let's walk on the beach. We need to get you to Comicon on time. We'll pick up breakfast on the way"

The crimson sky, blue sea and white sand looked like a technicolor cinema, the surf playing the score. We walked along the shore, tickling our toes in the water, when suddenly drenched by a large wave. The T-shirt was now wet and transparent. Her real breasts are unreal, "natural" shape--similar to the Venus de Milo--and nothing like the orb-like, fake boobs of yore. Maria moved quickly clinging to my back for cover. The fullness now splayed against me when she held on tight.

As we slowly made our way back to the house to replace the T-shirt I chided, "what did you say about bare-naked ladies?'

After sprinting to the shower, the bathroom door opened a crack, the wet T-shirt flew over my head, as she called "toss my swimsuits in here. I'll be living in them without a washer or dryer. And don't even think about joining me in here!"

As I smoothed out the shirt on kitchen table so it wouldn't wrinkle, I moaned in pretend distress "Aww, shucks." My private devil's voice whispered inside my head, "did you see that ass and perfect hooters?" The angel on my other shoulder answered, "beyond expectations. Be on your best behavior.

Enjoy every moment but remember you don't want to lose her by doing something stupid. She was already everything and more before you even set eyes on her."

As Maria walked out brushing her hair she broke into a fit of laughter with my" now THAT'S what I'm talking about!"

After dropping her off at the convention, I had to park my car 10 blocks away. Using my investigative experience, it did not take long to find her. Comicon will filled with Marvel, sci-fi, fantasy and video game exhibitions, each held on a different street in the San Diego Gaslight District. I searched for the quietest road with the fewest traffickers before spotting her sitting in an outside venue in a park. One seat next to her was vacant. Flashing my wedding ring and pointing to her as I stepped over the retaining rope did the trick. No one bothered me except to say "shush."

Ignoring her look of astonishment, I sat down to listen. The speaker was informative, engaging and kept the group captivated. Afterward I silently followed Maria down the center aisle as she made to way to speak to the presenter.

The two seemed to hit it off, carrying on a spirited discussion and even chuckling. Standing back five feet to avoid eavesdropping I spotted a hardcover book with a familiar cover. "Excuse me but is this a first edition?" I spoke while closing the distance to the table.

"Well, no, this is my annotated copy. It's not for sale," the lecturer replied as I picked up her new collection of short stories and opened my wallet for emphasis.

Seizing the opportunity, I pointed this time to my simple gold ring and then nodded to Maria, "Ms. Omolulu, I hope I didn't butcher your name, this is Maria. 'Dirty Little Secrets' is her favorite, inspiring her to be an author. Do you carry a spare with you for your tour?"

Taking a moment to compose herself, "My friends call me CJ. You can have this one, don't go selling it on eBay."

With tears in her eyes Maria took the masterpiece and held it to her bosom, "Never! I won't part with it and will cherish this moment all my life."

"There, there, I'm glad my baby will be in good hands," CJ

"How much do I owe you?" I asked before she changed her mind.

"Twenty dollars for the collection, the novel is a gift. Sorry folks I don't have any more" CJ announced as she turned and mouthed the words to me, "clever boy."

After hugs and thanks, I pulled Maria away from the author, "let's go get some delicious street tacos," I announced. CJ shook her head 'no' as we continued. "You must be starved."

"I certainly owe you one," Maria quipped after downing another mouthful of authentic American Mexican food, "but 'The Ladies' are still off limits. I gotta run; the next program is several streets away. And don't flash your magic ring again, you can't come. Meet me at Horton Plaza, three sharp."

When I picked her up Maria asked, "have you heard of Shelter Island? A few of my new friends are meeting there and I want my old friend to join me."

"There must be a local included in that group. It's one of the best places for a beach bonfire," I was impressed that Maria was making friends. In that outfit she would be fighting off the guys with a stick and the girls would be jealous. She had always seemed introverted.

After dinner on the boardwalk, I drove us to Shelter Island. It wasn't much of an island, mostly hotel property connected to the highway. "This way," I led her away from the parking lot. She carried the blanket while I brought my trusty acoustic guitar. Isn't that what you did at a bonfire, sing songs and strum the guitar? We made a second trip for driftwood, as I handed Mary a copy of Craig Johnson's 'Waiting for Signs' Walt Longmire story collection from the back pocket.

"When I signal you later, hand me the paperback. Don't forget now," I instructed.

"What is this for?" she asked.

"For when I get tired of playing, I'll switch off to reading. I would ask you, but you wouldn't make a convincing old coot with that pretty voice of yours."

Darkness fell and the fire blazed. After accompanying Beach Boy and classic campfire songs I announced in a loud voice, "listen up! Stand and stretch. Let your feet move to the music. You can dance on the hard sand next to the water."

I turned a metal trash can over as a surfer dude readied himself. I shouted "Jackie Wilson Said" as I played the intro with chords and muted strings. The beat came in with a nod, and people joined in with the repetition of the backup chorus "da, da, da, da, da" Any good busker knew Van Morrison. He was the Beethoven of Bee Bop.

I drifted over to Maria to regale her with, "Jackie Wilson Said ... you're 'Reet Petite' ... gotta love you baby... knock me off my feet," then as a came back to my place to sing and play, "let it all hang out, sweetest girl in town." She flashed a smile, but broke contact, brushing off the compliment.

Giving her a safe space, I returned to face the crowd. I raised my hands and got people going again. "da, da, da, da, da" up and "da, da, da, da, da, da".

I tried again to draw her out, "You know ... I'm so wound up ... don't need no coffee in my cup... let it all hang down, sweetest girl in town." Once again, she retreated from the spotlight.

I encouraged everyone to blast the chorus acapella, "I'm in heaven, I'm in heaven, When You Smile" Afterward, spontaneous dancing swept across the group, like the wave at a baseball game.

"And when you walk ... across the room, ... make my heart go BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, let it all hang out, let it all hang out."

By this time, Maria was dancing and laughing aloud, men and boys taking cuts and swirling her around. Surfer boys and beach bunnies joined book nerds, Maria clearly the 'Belle at the Ball. They continued through the next chorus of "I'm in heaven when you smile," and even let me finish the next stanza.

"Every time... you look that way ... honey child ... you make my day, let it all hang out, sweetest girl in town."

I lost control of the frolicking and stopped playing while the buzz carried on without me. I could see Maria changing partners through the firelight. After one too many da, da, da,, do, do, do, do," voices dropped out as the song came to an end with the last "I'm in heaven, I'm in heaven, I'm in heaven, when you smile."

People cried for another song, so I played, and we sang 'I Wish I Knew You When I Was Young," one of Maria's favorites. I took a break from playing to twirl my tiny dancer. The steady beat carried the tune without me.

"One more. You don't know the lyrics but sing along to the sha, la, la's," as I played an oldy but goody, 'Brown Eyed Girl' by Van Morrison.

Time for the transition, I put down the guitar and asked Maria for the Book.

Everyone settled down to hear "Old Indian Trick." After six funny stories, the Comicon club took turns with their favorite shorts and poems as the surfer group peeled away into the darkness. Maria and I followed sounds of splashes as they encouraged us to skinny dip. Maria smiled and made her choice.

I caught a glimpse of her nude body as she dived. Hesitating a few minutes, I wanted her to see my erection before it shriveled in the cold water. First impressions are important. "It's freezing in here, grab the blanket," were the only warning signs to alert me as she vaulted into my arms. I wrapped and deposited her next to the campfire before putting on my shorts. After her clothes were retrieved, she put them on under the blanket.

"OMG, you are amazing, first you scavenge the author's edition of my favorite book," she whispered while opening the blanket to let me in. "and tonight you made me feel like a schoolgirl at the dance. You're seeing a Maria I always knew was there. And you have no idea how, ... how out of the world it feels to be this way. Do you recall when I emailed Dido's 'Thank You' and asked you to listen?"

"A beautiful song, but do you know Dido sang it as a backdrop to Eminem's ballad 'Stan' about hopeless relationships?" I did not respond at the time, thinking it may have been an omen about the futility of making choices. "And when you followed the next week asking me to read "The Fault Is In Our Stars' I wasn't sure whether to be happy or sad."

"Our bond is one of its kind, 'WE' are complicated. But I wouldn't have it any other way. Tonight, I am ... happy ... I don't have the words. I want to thank you for giving me the best day of my life."

Nothing further was spoken as we listened to the cackle of the bonfire, huddled together with her damp leg sending an intangible message to mine. The crowd dwindled. Picking her up like a fragile package, we made our way to my car where she threw off the coverlet and climbed in.

She asked me to turn off the radio as we soundlessly drove back to the house. "That's better, tune out the babble for a few minutes." The silence was not empty, we could sense each other's presence.

We found ourselves alone back at the house with no sign of Eva or Jim. With a warm fire, Kenny Rankin on an old-fashioned record player, a bottle of wine and weed stick, the night was full of promise. With a deep draw, Maria pulled my mouth to hers and shot gunned smoke into my lungs. We passed the same toke twice.

Laying on our backs sharing our mutual enjoyment of music, she hummed along in her ethereal tone. The fire's projection on the ceiling appeared to dance with the highest and lowest 'C'. As I turned my face toward her, I could see the reflection of the room mirrored in her deep brown orbs. Lacing her fingers behind her head her chest rose and fell with ease. Her caring voice drifted toward me, "you appear to be lost in thought, does this take you back to better days?'

"A blast from the past. In College days we used to take refuge in a house on Balboa Island near Newport Beach." I reminisced, "what about you?"

"Late nights in my girlfriend's dorm room. We mostly talked about hot guys. Like good college girls we practiced kissing. I was grateful to gain the experience but she was into it a little too much."

Thinking this news was a green light, I positioned my hands either side of her jaw to launch a make out session as she broke out in snickers again and again. Perhaps a nervous laugh but the sound of her giggling drove me crazy.

Ending the stalemate, I pulled out a chilled bottle of Gewurztraminer, an aromatic German white wine made from pink-skinned grapes to propose a toast. A five-minute search for a wine bottle opener threatened to ruin the mood. "Fuck it," I said to myself as I tried an old trick. Holding the bottle in a kitchen towel, I twirled it like champagne while gently heating the neck with the fireplace butane lighter. The next step was to insert the bottle into the mouth of a sneaker, using it as a bumper and struck the wall several times. The cork rocketed out but the wine spewed all over. Maria crab walked away from the fountain which barely missed her. And with a futile attempt with the kitchen towel to mop up the spill, we rolled around the carpet in a fit of pot inspired laughter. Hysterics continued to break out, like the last kernels of microwave popcorn. We passed the bottle back and forth to stop the attacks, emptying the remaining contents.

Content with the warn liquid spirit inside, we laid back holding hands to recapture the mood. With the first few notes of guitar intro, I pulled her up for a slow dance to 'Pussywillow, Cattails, Soft Wind and Roses.' Drifting along she allowed me to lead, carrying her light as a spright frame. When the music changed to a jazz samba, we attempted to salsa dance, as I did my best not to step on her tiny feet. I began to feel woozy and she looked unsteady on her feet. After gathering my senses, I surrendered, "maybe we should call it a night." I could see my reflection in her glazed brown globes. "You look like you're going to pounce on me like a puma. If you do, I won't stop you."

"Stay here, don't break the spell. Tonight, has been complete, well almost." As I drew her back into my arms she whispered, "I cannot show you my appreciation as I want for tonight, for today, for everything, but I have an idea." Maria abruptly rose to throw off her top, sit on a couch, and spread her legs, the bikini bottom covering the sweet spot. "Don't speak, follow me and do exactly what I say. Who says we can't masturbate? Be vigilant, we're heading into the danger zone."

"Come over here, stand over me and pull off your shorts. Yes, that's it. Look but don't touch. Are you crazy about my Barenaked Ladies up close and personal? Now, jerk that big cock of yours and cum all over my tits while I play with myself."

For the first time I viewed the unobstructed panorama of big naturals, round and well defined even as they jiggled with movement, 'lovely and picturesque, I could become lost forever,' I silently answered myself, inpatient with anticipation.

Determined to make this a lasting experience, my hand slowly stroked up and down my member. Watching stiff elongated chocolate nipples rise from firm pillows, the conversation inside my head recalled the spongy yet downy texture and wondered if they were as tasty as they appeared. I pulled my gaze to her eyes but felt no incrimination, only encouragement, "you want me, don't you, but you can't have me. Show me how much I turn you on," all the while fingering her pussy,

Carried away with her own pleasure, Maria stretched her bottoms to the side, then pulled them down, left hand spreading a 'V' to allow the right to move in a blur. A flair up of firelight revealed the white pearl, beneath prominent lips and showcased by smooth hairless skin. As I moved forward, my shadow covered up the sight, the bright shining mirage of her sex swallowed by black desert sand.

Raising her right hand, Maria smeared juice under my nose. My tongue caught the taste, honeyed with a kick of saltiness. "I could just eat you, literally," I spoke while falling on my knees to devour her pussy. Strong hands grasp my head, pulling me up to face her.

"I'm in charge, remember?" Maria conceded a little by pushing three fingers inside, then placing them in my mouth, "suck on my fingers, tastes good, tastes nice, doesn't it?

"Move close, closer, fuck that fist. Pretend you're inside me and fuck me! Oh God, so hot, I'm boiling, almost, almost there. You've been saving it up for me, let it go, butter me, splash that goo all over my chest and neck, I'm coming, ooh, ahh."

I couldn't hold back my release as a torrent of quick bursts splattered her body like spilled paint. "So good, so right, Maria babe I adore you, I lo..."

"Shush," she barked while covering my mouth with her hand, then playfully snatched her Comicon T to quickly cover her breasts. "Miladies are now concealed and off limits," she teased," I feel your hot seed on my skin. I'll let your juice settle in as I sleep, a reminder of you."

The covering plastered to her body flawlessly drew her contours, like as impression in wax. As I admired my artwork Maria moved swiftly to stand at the door to the small bedroom and pronounce, "goodnight, it's better this way, things could get out of hand. I had to fight the urge to sit on you. Sweet dreams, luv."

"Thank you for being wonderful you," I said with a big smile, to myself I added, "love you always."

The faint ring of her cell phone on the other side of the wall appeared to go unanswered. No other sounds came from the room. Maria once told me a good orgasm send her into dreamland. I tried to arrange my thoughts in the quiet but couldn't chase her out of my mind. More than sleeping beauty, she was every woman ever dreamed in the heart of a lonely man.

I sat on the couch unable to sleep, tempted to test the waters, turn the doorknob. My devil urged "go for it. You can have her, she won't resist." Fortunately, character prevailed as I went outside and slept in my car, front seat tilted back. She was right to put on the brakes and I knew it. A long, long time past, sharing lurid stories anonymously morphed into exchanging stories and interests by email, eventually founding a tender fellowship, trust, affection, too frail to fracture, too precious to destroy.