Something a little more romantic for you after the gratuitous nature of my last couple of posts folks. Hope you enjoy it.
***
As odd as it sounds I actually think I prefer winter to summer. For some reason I’ve always found the cooler climate and darker nights more comforting than the sweltering heat and glare of July and August. There’s something soothing about a crisp, clear night where the frost is only a breath away and the moonlight bathes the world in a gentle glow.
This particular night was shaping up to be something very special though, as for once I had someone to share it with. Once a year my home town played host to a fun fair and market for a couple of weeks and it’s one of those simple pleasures that I always miss when I’m living in the city. One of the three main roads into the town was closed and the road itself given over to the market, the fairground setting up at the far end of the stalls in one of the car parks that was usually used for a park and ride service. The atmosphere was always friendly as the whole town came out to enjoy itself, people of all ages wrapped up warm against the chill air, the scent of frying onions from the various hot dog stands rising into the night, the scattered lights of the individual stalls creating their own harsh pools in the dark, all backlit by the flashing colours of the fairground rides in the background.
Into this mass of humanity we stepped arm in arm, Bonnie looking around in delight at the scene, so different from what she was used to in the heart of London and almost a relic from a different, quieter time, and me with a grin on my face that I knew had to look ridiculous but I just couldn’t keep it hidden. I’d first met her over five years ago and had, much to my chagrin, fallen in love the instant I clapped eyes on her. She was a couple of years older than me, but you wouldn’t know it to look at her. About five six, long brown hair, deep blue eyes that always seemed to touch my soul with every glance she gave me. It didn’t hurt that she had a great figure as well, although she wasn’t the sort of lass to flaunt it, usually dressing quite conservatively which only increased her appeal in my eyes.
I’d finally asked her out at the end of our last year in university and had received the nicest, most sincere and kindest refusal of my life. We’d stayed friends despite, or maybe because of, that and our relationship had become closer than just friends over time, more like brother and sister than anything else. I’d become her confidant in most things; someone she knew would always be there when she needed him and someone who’d never judge her no matter what. Out of the blue a month or so ago I’d received a tearful phone call just after she split with her boyfriend of the last three years and had dashed off to see her, genuinely concerned as she wasn’t the sort of person to go to pieces over such a (relatively) simple thing.
When I got there I felt my blood boil as I saw a large black bruise on her face, and a quick glance confirmed she wasn’t walking straight. I checked her over and made sure nothing was broken and did the only thing I could do under the circumstances, I let her cry herself out on my shoulder. Despite the fact that every fibre of my being wanted to go find the scumbag that had done this and pound him into hamburger I knew right now she didn’t need an avenger, she needed a friend.
I spent the next few days at her place, and on the fourth night she asked me if the offer I’d made so long ago was still open. In what was, in all honesty, the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do I told her that while it was, and that I’d be honoured for her to take me up on it, I couldn’t right then, at that time, in that place and in those circumstances. Simply put I thought we possibly had the makings of something special and didn’t want to base anything we did on something like this. Instead we simply stayed curled up on the sofa, taking strength in each other’s company and when I left the next day we agreed to discuss this again after she’d had some recovery time.
Not that the saga ended there of course. No, that’d be too simple. Two weeks later I got a call and we talked through everything that had happened and what we each thought of the other, and decided to give it a shot. I went down the next weekend to pick her up and drive to my home town for what I hopped would not only be a truly memorable weekend but a real change of pace for both of us. Unfortunately before we could get going, her now ex-boyfriend turned up and, for some reason best known to himself, decided I was the reason he’d broken up with her. The first thing I knew about it was when he took a swing and punched me in the back of the head. I hit the ground, rolled, and that was the last time he came close to landing a blow on me because there was no way in hell I was going to give him the chance to get near Bonnie again. I didn’t break anything, or leave him with any major marks for that matter, but I think by the time we’d finished our little dance he was well aware that such behaviour was not welcome around either of us. Not exactly the ideal start to what I’d planned to be a relaxing weekend, but I will admit to taking a certain satisfaction in it.
Still, all that went away the instant Bonnie stepped out into the night air and saw the sight in front of us. We wandered through the market for a while, not really shopping for anything but just enjoying each other’s company as we browsed. The fair itself was actually surprisingly good; with several ingenious rides that made good use of the limited space available to a travelling show to provide some pretty neat thrill rides. In fact, there was only one rather dodgy moment in the whole thing when the safety bar on one ride (The Twister, a set of cars attached to a series of rotating arms that swing and whirl the cars around each other at high speed) didn’t quite lock right. I ended up holding the damn thing closed and braced off the footboard as Bonnie wrapped her arms around me and hung on, a huge grin on her face as she relaxed against me despite the wild ride.
As with all good travelling fairs there was a selection of booths offering tests of ‘skill’ to win prizes, although I swear one or two closed as they caught sight of me, someone obviously has a long memory. One didn’t though, and passed over an air rifle with a very dodgy sight and warped barrel before pointing at a series of targets: shoot them all down, win a stuffed toy guaranteed to give a kid nightmares. The first shot I aimed at the middle target and it plunked the furthest right target right at the top of the metal plate. Glancing round to check the stall owner was otherwise engaged with a customer I flicked out my Leatherman, popped the flat head screwdriver out and made some quick adjustments to the sight. Not exactly perfect, but not far off and I could correct the right hand pull easily enough. Rattling off six shots got the rest of the targets down and left me with one shot in the chamber. The group next to us were lining up their last shot on their last target, but there was no way the guy was going to hit it, mainly as he was actually aiming straight. Lining my shot up on the last of my own targets I watched out the corner of my eye and timed my shot with his. The timing was perfect, and the last of his targets went down to my shot, no one except me and Bonnie knowing it wasn’t his shot that had done it.
From there we headed back to the car and drove a few miles out of town to a country pub I knew and ordered a good old-fashioned steak dinner. By old-fashioned I mean the sort of Steak that comes on a separate plate not for reasons of aesthetics but because it simply won’t fit on the regular plate. I’d always considered it deeply unfair that Bonnie could seemingly eat whatever she wanted and never put on a pound, whereas I only had to look at a stick of celery to spend the next hour in the gym working it off, but I put that particular annoyance on hold as I broke one of my own rules and actually ordered desert for once. A gorgeous, warm chocolate cake, thick icing slightly runny where it had been warmed, rich chocolate sauce drizzled over the sponge with a rather generous scoop of Vanilla Hagen Daz ice cream on top was the perfect touch to finish the meal, and much to the annoyance of some of the other guests we messed about a bit while eating it.
It started innocently enough as I offered her a chunk on the end of a fork and, with a gleam in her eye that I swear had me plugged in at the mains, she proceeded to slid it off that fork with a skill, dexterity and suggestiveness that I’d never imagined she possessed, her full lips and wet tongue actually making me jealous of a simple chunk of chocolate cake. Not wanting to be outdone I returned the favour as she offered me a slightly smaller chunk still covered in rapidly melting ice cream. Instead of sucking it straight off I let my tongue dart out and around, surgical strikes to catch each and every drip before it could fall while keeping my eyes locked on hers, a slight smile playing at the corners of my mouth. When I finally took it off her fork I tried my best to make it a slow, sensual movement, and almost managed to impale myself in the process. Things kind of went from there really, with the last of the sauce being sucked off fingers and a final mouthful of still-warm cake and runny ice-cream being shared in a kiss that almost ended rather messily as Bonnie started giggling midway through and we had to work quickly not to leave that last mouthful on the floor.
One of the big advantages of planning such an elaborate evening in your hometown is finding something a little special to finish the night off with a bang becomes a great deal easier. Getting back in the car we drove the ten minutes or so to a small road that threaded it’s way over the hill between two bays. About halfway along it we turned off and headed down a narrow lane that led, after a few twists and turns to a secluded cove. I turned the car around so it was facing away from the ocean and popped the tailgate. Being a people carrier it had a boot big enough to swallow an entire families summer vacation luggage, so there was easily enough room for two people to sit on the edge of the boot and look out over the bay, and with the back seats dropped flat to the floor I spread a blanket out over the floor and laid another one ready to one side.
With the engine and lights off, there wasn’t a man-made sound within earshot. Only the gentle ripple of waves against the shore, the rustle of the bare trees in the wind and, from a little further down the coast, the crash of water against the larger rocks that made up the next bay. On the horizon the distant lights of Pwllheli and Abersoch twinkled in the night, the view across the forty miles or so of water clear enough to make out the separate towns with relative ease. Overhead the moon hung low in the sky, the stars a perfect backdrop this far from the only real town in the area. It was, to my mind, heaven, an image reinforced when I turned and saw the look of absolute joy on the angel sitting next to me. She turned to me and, without a word, brought her arms up around me, pulling my lips to hers, and finally, after so many years of wanting, of needing this one moment, I received what my heart truly desired.
We held that kiss for a long time, hell, it seemed like an eternity, neither of us willing to let the moment slip away for fear of what the next moment could bring. Finally, Bonnie pulled back, staring at me as if for the first time. I knew that the grin that had made me look such a dork earlier was back in full force but there wasn’t much I could do about that.
”You know, it’s funny, I never noticed how your eyes light up when you smile.” She said, her own eyes locked on mine and I felt there was some subtext I was missing as I struggled for an answer and decided to shoot for honesty.
“Well, most of the time, I haven’t had a great deal to smile about lass.” I said, reaching out hesitantly to run my hand down her cheek, wanting to feel her to make sure this wasn’t just some wonderful dream.
“You should have said, I could have done something about that much earlier than this.” She replied and without thinking I followed on with the obvious, and in retrospect, predictable, response: “And how would you accomplish that miracle exactly?”
“Glad you asked!” She said and jumped at me, sending us both sprawling on the floor of the boot, her woollen gloves suddenly absent as I felt slightly chilled fingers dive under the hem of my fleece jacket and up under my t-shirt, flicking against my ribs.
“Hey… what are… no, no, waitaminute…goddahah…no,…hang on…. not.. no… stoppppit… wait.. don’t..notthis…please” was roughly what I spluttered as she went to town, the extra little chill against my ribs more than enough to make me gasp and wriggle under her touch. I’ve always been horribly ticklish, and I suspect that I may have mentioned this little fact to a mutual friend at some point as Bonnie seemed to know just how to drive me nuts. Her fingers kept moving, dancing and wriggling on ribs, armpits and worst of all, my stomach as I gasped and giggled rather unmanfully beneath her. Yet throughout it all she never let her eyes wander, always keeping her gaze locked on mine, her smile showing she was enjoying herself and, whether intentional or not, encouraging me to endure what she was doing to me.
I was absolutely determined to hang on as long as I could, but all that went out the window as she ran her fingers in a line that followed the top of my jeans from one hip to the other and I felt any semblance of self-control snap. Reaching up I grabbed her in my arms and pulled her down, my own hands starting to search over her body for any little chink in the armour of her long wool jacket and thick trousers. I found exactly what I was looking for as my hands travelled above her collar and touched her neck, causing a burst of laughter as she tried to pull her head back and away, but already it was too late.
I slid my legs around her to hold her at least roughly where I wanted her and let my hands do the talking. Sensing the inevitable Bonnie redoubled her efforts on my stomach and hips and we both dissolved into laughter, fingers moving as fast as possible to fight the chill of the night, always looking for a new opening to explore, a new way in beneath the layers of cloth that separated us and, if at all possible, a way to stop the other’s tickling assault long enough to gain a real advantage.
We slowly turned over, a kind of stop-motion roll that ended up with us lying on our sides, me on my left with my back against the side of the car and her hands still nestled under my t-shirt, her on her right with my hands working her stomach and ribs through the thin cotton of the tight t-shirt she wore underneath her coat and jumper, all the while being very careful not to travel too far north and explore where I wasn’t sure I’d be welcome.
Lying like that, practically nose to nose, her soft, wet lips seemed to call to me as they twisted and stretched with her laughter and I wriggled forward slightly to kiss her. She returned the kiss for a second before pulling back as my hands found a particularly sensitive spot just above her hipbone and dug in. She took a few seconds to get her reaction under control then, still giggling but able to at least hold her head still she returned to the kiss.
This time it was me that pulled away as she scraped her long fingernails around my chest, dragging a staccato burst of laughter that was an odd mix of Goofy and Popeye from my throat. She kept that particular movement up until I managed to control myself and now it was my turn to drop back into the kiss. We kept the game up for over twenty minutes, always looking for ways to push the other away, then keep teasing them until they managed to come back, over and over, revelling in the laughter, the release of tension, the sheer freedom we were not only enjoying but creating for and with each other.
Finally the tickling slowed, being replaced with desire, and our explorations of the other’s body grew at once more intimate and yet more cautious. While her fingers brushed against my groin it was only against my jeans, not skin-to-skin contact as before, and I returned that with gentle, sweeping strokes of my hands around her breasts but through her jumper. Eventually, tired from the evening’s events, we lay back, wrapped in each others arms and I threw the second blanket over us, leaving the car open to the elements. The sounds of the ocean and hills drew in around us and there and then, lying in the arms of this woman who’d captured my heart without even trying, I knew that this truly was the start of something special.
***
As odd as it sounds I actually think I prefer winter to summer. For some reason I’ve always found the cooler climate and darker nights more comforting than the sweltering heat and glare of July and August. There’s something soothing about a crisp, clear night where the frost is only a breath away and the moonlight bathes the world in a gentle glow.
This particular night was shaping up to be something very special though, as for once I had someone to share it with. Once a year my home town played host to a fun fair and market for a couple of weeks and it’s one of those simple pleasures that I always miss when I’m living in the city. One of the three main roads into the town was closed and the road itself given over to the market, the fairground setting up at the far end of the stalls in one of the car parks that was usually used for a park and ride service. The atmosphere was always friendly as the whole town came out to enjoy itself, people of all ages wrapped up warm against the chill air, the scent of frying onions from the various hot dog stands rising into the night, the scattered lights of the individual stalls creating their own harsh pools in the dark, all backlit by the flashing colours of the fairground rides in the background.
Into this mass of humanity we stepped arm in arm, Bonnie looking around in delight at the scene, so different from what she was used to in the heart of London and almost a relic from a different, quieter time, and me with a grin on my face that I knew had to look ridiculous but I just couldn’t keep it hidden. I’d first met her over five years ago and had, much to my chagrin, fallen in love the instant I clapped eyes on her. She was a couple of years older than me, but you wouldn’t know it to look at her. About five six, long brown hair, deep blue eyes that always seemed to touch my soul with every glance she gave me. It didn’t hurt that she had a great figure as well, although she wasn’t the sort of lass to flaunt it, usually dressing quite conservatively which only increased her appeal in my eyes.
I’d finally asked her out at the end of our last year in university and had received the nicest, most sincere and kindest refusal of my life. We’d stayed friends despite, or maybe because of, that and our relationship had become closer than just friends over time, more like brother and sister than anything else. I’d become her confidant in most things; someone she knew would always be there when she needed him and someone who’d never judge her no matter what. Out of the blue a month or so ago I’d received a tearful phone call just after she split with her boyfriend of the last three years and had dashed off to see her, genuinely concerned as she wasn’t the sort of person to go to pieces over such a (relatively) simple thing.
When I got there I felt my blood boil as I saw a large black bruise on her face, and a quick glance confirmed she wasn’t walking straight. I checked her over and made sure nothing was broken and did the only thing I could do under the circumstances, I let her cry herself out on my shoulder. Despite the fact that every fibre of my being wanted to go find the scumbag that had done this and pound him into hamburger I knew right now she didn’t need an avenger, she needed a friend.
I spent the next few days at her place, and on the fourth night she asked me if the offer I’d made so long ago was still open. In what was, in all honesty, the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do I told her that while it was, and that I’d be honoured for her to take me up on it, I couldn’t right then, at that time, in that place and in those circumstances. Simply put I thought we possibly had the makings of something special and didn’t want to base anything we did on something like this. Instead we simply stayed curled up on the sofa, taking strength in each other’s company and when I left the next day we agreed to discuss this again after she’d had some recovery time.
Not that the saga ended there of course. No, that’d be too simple. Two weeks later I got a call and we talked through everything that had happened and what we each thought of the other, and decided to give it a shot. I went down the next weekend to pick her up and drive to my home town for what I hopped would not only be a truly memorable weekend but a real change of pace for both of us. Unfortunately before we could get going, her now ex-boyfriend turned up and, for some reason best known to himself, decided I was the reason he’d broken up with her. The first thing I knew about it was when he took a swing and punched me in the back of the head. I hit the ground, rolled, and that was the last time he came close to landing a blow on me because there was no way in hell I was going to give him the chance to get near Bonnie again. I didn’t break anything, or leave him with any major marks for that matter, but I think by the time we’d finished our little dance he was well aware that such behaviour was not welcome around either of us. Not exactly the ideal start to what I’d planned to be a relaxing weekend, but I will admit to taking a certain satisfaction in it.
Still, all that went away the instant Bonnie stepped out into the night air and saw the sight in front of us. We wandered through the market for a while, not really shopping for anything but just enjoying each other’s company as we browsed. The fair itself was actually surprisingly good; with several ingenious rides that made good use of the limited space available to a travelling show to provide some pretty neat thrill rides. In fact, there was only one rather dodgy moment in the whole thing when the safety bar on one ride (The Twister, a set of cars attached to a series of rotating arms that swing and whirl the cars around each other at high speed) didn’t quite lock right. I ended up holding the damn thing closed and braced off the footboard as Bonnie wrapped her arms around me and hung on, a huge grin on her face as she relaxed against me despite the wild ride.
As with all good travelling fairs there was a selection of booths offering tests of ‘skill’ to win prizes, although I swear one or two closed as they caught sight of me, someone obviously has a long memory. One didn’t though, and passed over an air rifle with a very dodgy sight and warped barrel before pointing at a series of targets: shoot them all down, win a stuffed toy guaranteed to give a kid nightmares. The first shot I aimed at the middle target and it plunked the furthest right target right at the top of the metal plate. Glancing round to check the stall owner was otherwise engaged with a customer I flicked out my Leatherman, popped the flat head screwdriver out and made some quick adjustments to the sight. Not exactly perfect, but not far off and I could correct the right hand pull easily enough. Rattling off six shots got the rest of the targets down and left me with one shot in the chamber. The group next to us were lining up their last shot on their last target, but there was no way the guy was going to hit it, mainly as he was actually aiming straight. Lining my shot up on the last of my own targets I watched out the corner of my eye and timed my shot with his. The timing was perfect, and the last of his targets went down to my shot, no one except me and Bonnie knowing it wasn’t his shot that had done it.
From there we headed back to the car and drove a few miles out of town to a country pub I knew and ordered a good old-fashioned steak dinner. By old-fashioned I mean the sort of Steak that comes on a separate plate not for reasons of aesthetics but because it simply won’t fit on the regular plate. I’d always considered it deeply unfair that Bonnie could seemingly eat whatever she wanted and never put on a pound, whereas I only had to look at a stick of celery to spend the next hour in the gym working it off, but I put that particular annoyance on hold as I broke one of my own rules and actually ordered desert for once. A gorgeous, warm chocolate cake, thick icing slightly runny where it had been warmed, rich chocolate sauce drizzled over the sponge with a rather generous scoop of Vanilla Hagen Daz ice cream on top was the perfect touch to finish the meal, and much to the annoyance of some of the other guests we messed about a bit while eating it.
It started innocently enough as I offered her a chunk on the end of a fork and, with a gleam in her eye that I swear had me plugged in at the mains, she proceeded to slid it off that fork with a skill, dexterity and suggestiveness that I’d never imagined she possessed, her full lips and wet tongue actually making me jealous of a simple chunk of chocolate cake. Not wanting to be outdone I returned the favour as she offered me a slightly smaller chunk still covered in rapidly melting ice cream. Instead of sucking it straight off I let my tongue dart out and around, surgical strikes to catch each and every drip before it could fall while keeping my eyes locked on hers, a slight smile playing at the corners of my mouth. When I finally took it off her fork I tried my best to make it a slow, sensual movement, and almost managed to impale myself in the process. Things kind of went from there really, with the last of the sauce being sucked off fingers and a final mouthful of still-warm cake and runny ice-cream being shared in a kiss that almost ended rather messily as Bonnie started giggling midway through and we had to work quickly not to leave that last mouthful on the floor.
One of the big advantages of planning such an elaborate evening in your hometown is finding something a little special to finish the night off with a bang becomes a great deal easier. Getting back in the car we drove the ten minutes or so to a small road that threaded it’s way over the hill between two bays. About halfway along it we turned off and headed down a narrow lane that led, after a few twists and turns to a secluded cove. I turned the car around so it was facing away from the ocean and popped the tailgate. Being a people carrier it had a boot big enough to swallow an entire families summer vacation luggage, so there was easily enough room for two people to sit on the edge of the boot and look out over the bay, and with the back seats dropped flat to the floor I spread a blanket out over the floor and laid another one ready to one side.
With the engine and lights off, there wasn’t a man-made sound within earshot. Only the gentle ripple of waves against the shore, the rustle of the bare trees in the wind and, from a little further down the coast, the crash of water against the larger rocks that made up the next bay. On the horizon the distant lights of Pwllheli and Abersoch twinkled in the night, the view across the forty miles or so of water clear enough to make out the separate towns with relative ease. Overhead the moon hung low in the sky, the stars a perfect backdrop this far from the only real town in the area. It was, to my mind, heaven, an image reinforced when I turned and saw the look of absolute joy on the angel sitting next to me. She turned to me and, without a word, brought her arms up around me, pulling my lips to hers, and finally, after so many years of wanting, of needing this one moment, I received what my heart truly desired.
We held that kiss for a long time, hell, it seemed like an eternity, neither of us willing to let the moment slip away for fear of what the next moment could bring. Finally, Bonnie pulled back, staring at me as if for the first time. I knew that the grin that had made me look such a dork earlier was back in full force but there wasn’t much I could do about that.
”You know, it’s funny, I never noticed how your eyes light up when you smile.” She said, her own eyes locked on mine and I felt there was some subtext I was missing as I struggled for an answer and decided to shoot for honesty.
“Well, most of the time, I haven’t had a great deal to smile about lass.” I said, reaching out hesitantly to run my hand down her cheek, wanting to feel her to make sure this wasn’t just some wonderful dream.
“You should have said, I could have done something about that much earlier than this.” She replied and without thinking I followed on with the obvious, and in retrospect, predictable, response: “And how would you accomplish that miracle exactly?”
“Glad you asked!” She said and jumped at me, sending us both sprawling on the floor of the boot, her woollen gloves suddenly absent as I felt slightly chilled fingers dive under the hem of my fleece jacket and up under my t-shirt, flicking against my ribs.
“Hey… what are… no, no, waitaminute…goddahah…no,…hang on…. not.. no… stoppppit… wait.. don’t..notthis…please” was roughly what I spluttered as she went to town, the extra little chill against my ribs more than enough to make me gasp and wriggle under her touch. I’ve always been horribly ticklish, and I suspect that I may have mentioned this little fact to a mutual friend at some point as Bonnie seemed to know just how to drive me nuts. Her fingers kept moving, dancing and wriggling on ribs, armpits and worst of all, my stomach as I gasped and giggled rather unmanfully beneath her. Yet throughout it all she never let her eyes wander, always keeping her gaze locked on mine, her smile showing she was enjoying herself and, whether intentional or not, encouraging me to endure what she was doing to me.
I was absolutely determined to hang on as long as I could, but all that went out the window as she ran her fingers in a line that followed the top of my jeans from one hip to the other and I felt any semblance of self-control snap. Reaching up I grabbed her in my arms and pulled her down, my own hands starting to search over her body for any little chink in the armour of her long wool jacket and thick trousers. I found exactly what I was looking for as my hands travelled above her collar and touched her neck, causing a burst of laughter as she tried to pull her head back and away, but already it was too late.
I slid my legs around her to hold her at least roughly where I wanted her and let my hands do the talking. Sensing the inevitable Bonnie redoubled her efforts on my stomach and hips and we both dissolved into laughter, fingers moving as fast as possible to fight the chill of the night, always looking for a new opening to explore, a new way in beneath the layers of cloth that separated us and, if at all possible, a way to stop the other’s tickling assault long enough to gain a real advantage.
We slowly turned over, a kind of stop-motion roll that ended up with us lying on our sides, me on my left with my back against the side of the car and her hands still nestled under my t-shirt, her on her right with my hands working her stomach and ribs through the thin cotton of the tight t-shirt she wore underneath her coat and jumper, all the while being very careful not to travel too far north and explore where I wasn’t sure I’d be welcome.
Lying like that, practically nose to nose, her soft, wet lips seemed to call to me as they twisted and stretched with her laughter and I wriggled forward slightly to kiss her. She returned the kiss for a second before pulling back as my hands found a particularly sensitive spot just above her hipbone and dug in. She took a few seconds to get her reaction under control then, still giggling but able to at least hold her head still she returned to the kiss.
This time it was me that pulled away as she scraped her long fingernails around my chest, dragging a staccato burst of laughter that was an odd mix of Goofy and Popeye from my throat. She kept that particular movement up until I managed to control myself and now it was my turn to drop back into the kiss. We kept the game up for over twenty minutes, always looking for ways to push the other away, then keep teasing them until they managed to come back, over and over, revelling in the laughter, the release of tension, the sheer freedom we were not only enjoying but creating for and with each other.
Finally the tickling slowed, being replaced with desire, and our explorations of the other’s body grew at once more intimate and yet more cautious. While her fingers brushed against my groin it was only against my jeans, not skin-to-skin contact as before, and I returned that with gentle, sweeping strokes of my hands around her breasts but through her jumper. Eventually, tired from the evening’s events, we lay back, wrapped in each others arms and I threw the second blanket over us, leaving the car open to the elements. The sounds of the ocean and hills drew in around us and there and then, lying in the arms of this woman who’d captured my heart without even trying, I knew that this truly was the start of something special.
