Bottles

"And I'm...moving...inside you," I continued, slowly thrusting until she smiled.

"Uh-huh. And it feels...really nice," she responded, closing her eyes for a moment while I slid in and out of her warmth.

"Is there something else I'm supposed to be doing? 'Cause...that's all I've got."

She rolled her eyes up, thinking. "Well, don't you need to...move real fast and push real hard? I've been bracing for you to start. That's what I mean when I say I'm ready."

I froze. Pulling out of her, I moved back until I was kneeling. She looked hurt for a moment, but I put my hands gently on her thighs. "Macy, do you mean to tell me that every time you've had sex, it's been like that?"

She nodded her head, looking at me with curious eyes.

"And do you...like that?"

"Not really. I like what we were just doing, but that's only the first part. After that, it's just uncomfortable, but that's what a guy needs...right?"

"Oh...Oh, God no. Is your husband...you ex-husband...was he your first?"

Macy sat up and crossed her legs. "Yes. We married pretty young- high school sweethearts, that whole thing."

My heart just broke for her in that moment. Well, I figured, I guess there's no time like Valentine's Day to learn how to make love.

"Macy, that's not what sex has to be like. Always having sex like that is like...like always eating pizza. Sure, you could survive, but it's not what you want all the time. And not everybody likes it. And it's not even healthy. God, what...how did you put up with that?"

I think I stepped over a line, because she started to cry again, wrapping her arms around her breasts. "I didn't know. That's just how it was. I thought...I mean, no one ever talked about it. And he was happy, I thought. And the...the porn he watched was like that, so I thought it was just...that sex was like that."

I pulled her to me, holding her against my chest as she cried. "Would he try to have sex just like it was in those videos?"

"He would. But I said no to some things, and he would get frustrated. But he would talk like they did, and want me to act like that. And I just can't do it...and I know he was so disappointed and wanted someone that could be like that."

I didn't even try to hold back my anger. In my heart I hated him, and I imagined wonderfully poetic justice punishing him in cruel ways. I held Macy as she sobbed. "He's going to be very disappointed, Macy, because no one is really like that...well, almost no one. That's not what sex is like." Then I stifled a laugh, because it felt inappropriate. It had occurred to me that Macy's ex-husband might have been a good match for Hannah. I kept that thought to myself, though.

"You know those women in those videos are just acting, right?"

"Yeah...but..."

"It's all acting. Don't feel bad if you're not enjoying it like they pretend to."

Then she actually laughed. "I did feel a little jealous though. I mean, they really seem to enjoy it."

I smiled at that, and then another thought occurred to me. "Macy, have you ever...cum...during sex?"

"No," she said softly. "Not for real, at least. But I've helped myself...do that...alone."

"Well, I hope we can change that. Maybe not tonight, but with a little practice..." I lay back down on the bed, this time on my back. I pulled her along with me, and she knew to straddle me. As she started pushing herself back down onto my cock, I said, "OK, babe, the rule is, you try to find what feels good to you and just do that, OK?"

"But you..."

"I'll be fine. I promise. You have no idea how good every moment feels when I'm inside you." She sighed once she had me all the way in, then sat still.

"You OK?" I asked.

"Just...enjoying the feeling. The fullness. That's you in there," she said, squeezing around my member. I groaned and put my hands on her hips.

"Maybe you should try doing whatever it is you do when you're by yourself...if you can," I suggested. She didn't move for a few moments, then I felt her hand start moving slowly around where we were joined. I grit my teeth and fought the urge to push up. After a few minutes, Macy began a slow, tentative back and forth motion with her hips. I spoke softly to her, "Hey beautiful, the other rule is that if there's anything you want me to do, you have to tell me. Tell me to touch you or kiss you or whatever you want. I want to do it."

Her eyes closed and her lips parted, she whispered a simple, "OK," but otherwise continued as she was. I moved my hands from her hips down along her thighs and then back up. I kept up that slow motion until, after a few minutes, she whispered, "My belly, touch my belly." I happily complied, rubbing slowly around in circles. Her breathing sped up, as did her hip motions. The corner of her lips turned up in a smile. One hand moved faster along her clit and the other one was flat on my chest, supporting her weight.

"Can you move just a little?" she asked in a rushed whisper. "Just a little bit in and out?" I responded with very small thrusts- much less than I wanted, but enough to bring myself a little pleasure. Suddenly, Macy leaned farther forward and whispered a prolonged, "oooooohhhh," that soon ceased to be a whisper. I felt her walls clench around me, and she instinctively pulled off a little. My hand on her hip guided her back down, and she gasped. She came quietly, but intensely, judging by the expression on her face. Midway through her orgasm, she stopped rubbing herself and just lay down on top of me. I rubbed along her sides and across her back, kissing the cheek she had put in front of me.

As she caught her breath, she whispered, "So that was basically like masturbating with some help, I guess."

"That," I corrected her, "was sex. Or I prefer to say making love. But in any case, that's it."

"Sooo much better than a box of chocolates."

"Huh?"

She lifted her head and looked at me. "I was a little sad that you hadn't gotten me anything for Valentine's Day. Like a box of chocolates or flowers or something." My eyes widened when I realized I had completely forgotten to think of that. "It's OK," she said dismissively, "because this was waaaay better. You are forgiven. And I am in your debt." So saying, she dropped her head back onto my shoulder.

I let her lie still for a few moments, then asked, "Do you want to stay like this while I finish?"

"Oh dear! I forgot about you! Ha! You...you just wiped my mind clean there. Ummm...can we...roll over?" I had her on her back in a few seconds. "I just want to feel what it's like to...make love like this. To not have someone just pounding down. Is that OK?"

Beginning my thrusts, I kissed her and said, "It's OK if that's what you want. For the record, I really enjoy it like this." My urge at that point was to finish quick, having been denied for a while that evening. But considering the circumstances, I denied that instinct and continued a slow, steady rhythm. I knew it would get me to the same place, it would just take a little longer to get there.

We looked into each other's eyes as her chest rose and fell. Eye contact- I had missed that for so long. Hannah didn't want to look at my eyes- it was as if that was the one repulsive part of my body. But Macy couldn't get enough of it, and she held my gaze for all of the five or so minutes that I was pushing into her. At one point, her eyes softened, and she mumbled, "I didn't know. I just never knew it could be like this. I could let you do this to me all day."

Shortly after that- and imagining how nice it would be to stay in bed all day, enjoying Macy's body- I felt myself rushing towards release. I broke away from her gaze and rested my face in the pillow. I sped up my thrusts, holding deep for an extra second or two each time. Macy gasped, but not in pain. My hands, which had been holding her shoulders, moved down to her hips and tried to slip under her. I just finally got both hands gripping her bottom when I felt that inevitable spark.

Pushing deep, I groaned until I felt my release. With two or three more thrusts, I emptied my essence into her. For a flash, I wondered about protection, but that thought was quickly buried by the sensations of physical pleasure and emotional closeness. I breathed deep as a few last twitches signaled the end of that first time together. Still catching my breath, I felt the need to ask between breaths, "Are you OK?"

She smiled and even laughed a little. Patting my back she said, "I'm fine, tiger. Just take it easy." Rolling off her, I leaned back over for a kiss. A kiss that became more kisses, which became a laid-back after-sex make-out session. Macy broke it off to run to the bathroom and clean up. As she crawled back under the covers, she asked, "Are you going to be able to sleep? Isn't your body's clock like...the reverse of mine?"

Pulling her into a skin-on-skin embrace, I said, "Not exactly. I usually work until the middle of the night, then go to sleep when I get home. I could probably fall asleep now, though. What we just did...that'll knock me out if I let it."

Nuzzling her head into my chest, she closed her eyes and said, "Then let it."

*******

I slept very soundly, and when dawn filtered through the blinds in Macy's bedroom, I rubbed my eyes and stretched. When my vision focused enough to look around, I saw Macy next to me, wide awake and smiling, propped up on one arm, looking at me. The sunlight shone through her wild hair, giving it an orange glow. I reached out to caress her cheek with the backs of my fingers, and I said sincerely, "So beautiful." She laughed and wrapped her arms around me, squeezing for a moment, then relaxing.

"You're still here," she said, happily.

"Of course I am. You'd have to chase me away."

She sighed dreamily, then said more seriously, "It won't always be like this, you know."

"I know."

"It's OK, though. But a night without the kids is...rare."

"I'll pay Denise to watch them. I'll pay her well."

Macy laughed and kissed my neck, then said, "It's not that. She's happy to watch them. But most nights they'll be here, and there's not a lot of privacy. You may have noticed that I've learned to be pretty quiet when I...you know."

"When you cum?"

"Yes. Can't let the kids hear that."

"It would be awkward, I guess."

"Buuuut...we've got until noon...which is 5 hours away. I'd like to see if I can let myself be noisy...just this once..."

"That is a fine idea. Do you want to get breakfast first?"

"Actually, I do. And wash up. And talk. And kiss. And lots of other things. Five hours won't be enough."

"Well let's get started," I said, swinging my feet onto the floor.

We spent a delightful morning, talking casually, sharing breakfast, sharing a shower, and slowly making love again. She cashed in her rain check and let herself get a little noisy when my tongue was working between her folds, and again when we spooned together under the sheets. As we were both unwinding from our morning frolic, my spent rod softening inside her, I said, "That was a bit risky last night, putting a bottle out there for anyone to find."

"I was watching. You couldn't see me, but I could see you."

"What would you have done if someone else got to it before I did?"

She thought for a second, then squeezed the arm I had wrapped around her chest and said, "Panicked. Run screaming at them to leave it alone."

"What about your other bottles? What if someone found them?"

"I don't think I'd mind. There's nothing too embarrassing or even personally identifying in them. It would maybe just brighten some stranger's day. It's a little sad, though. I'm starting to wish I had copied down what I wrote. I wish I could share with you those dreams and hopes, though you're doing a pretty good job starting to fulfill them."

I knew I would tell her eventually, but not yet. In the last hour before the kids returned, we lay in bed and talked about the future. We talked about me spending time at her place, letting the kids get used to me. We talked about trying to have Saturday nights to ourselves as often as possible. We talked about taking it slow for the kids' sake. When Denise called us with a "15 minute warning," we reluctantly dressed and got lunch together. "Does she know I spent the night?"

"She knew I was probably going to ask you to."

"But you didn't tell her..."

"She knew that I would've called after you left. No call means...sexy times."

"She's OK with this?"

"She needs to know you better, but she likes that I'm happy. She's a good friend, Ern, you'll like her."

A few minutes later, a tornado of youthful energy swirled into the house, filled with stories and drawings and questions and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I stayed the afternoon, and we went on a walk through the neighborhood. I had to leave for work that evening, but not before promising to be back for lunch the next day.

*******

We continued spending Saturday evenings on the pier for all the next year. Usually it was just the two of us, and we'd watch the sunset, hand-in-hand. The kids would sometimes join us, as would Denise, who even taught Randy and I how to really fish.

After a month, I told Macy my secret- I brought the first of many bottles with me to the pier. She was a little upset at first but was mostly pacified when I assured her I had only read four of them. Then she was a little embarrassed to learn that the bottles didn't wash away to sea like she had thought. In the end, though, it became our favorite little tradition. I'd bring a different bottle every other week or so, and we'd read the note together.

Sometimes she would cry, sometimes I would. Sometimes we'd talk, sometimes we didn't need to. We'd walk back to my place, letting the kids could spend the night in their own beds, under Denise's watchful eye. We'd usually make love, slowly reprogramming the broken parts of our pasts. I had to learn that she really wanted to be loved by me, that it was OK to talk about how I felt. And she had to get used to me telling her how beautiful and sexy and wonderful she was.

One year later, the Saturday night before Valentine's Day, I brought the table back out to the pier. I set up a heavier floral centerpiece, a nice meal, and one last bottle with a note of my own. As we ate, I told Macy about wanting to move back to the Midwest, a little closer to my aging parents. I told her about a job opportunity at a sister company to my current employer- at a mental health institute. I told her that, if I took the job, they would pay the moving expenses for me and my family.

I handed her the bottle and asked her to open it. She pulled out the note, and her eyes widened when she realized that it wasn't one that she had written. It was a simple note, not nearly as eloquent as the ones she used to write. It was a just one question, one that went with the ring I was offering her as I got on one knee next to her. It said, Will you be my family?

Macy stood up, threw the bottle into the ocean, and said a tearful but hearty Yes.