A Moveable Feast Pt. 06

Maria and Fernando were walking through the park, sometimes hand in hand, sometimes with her arm laced through his, and sometimes just going side by side. They had no destination, just some weekend morning people-watching.

Fernando was wearing a polo shirt announcing his Brazilian football loyalties, along with tight black pants that showed his fit and manly ass off nicely. Maria, for her part, had on a patterned blouse and a dark green pleated skirt that fell to halfway between her knees and ankles. Her dark hair was loose and falling on her shoulders in a curly half-tamed mess, deliberately casual and off-duty.

She'd wondered whether she should actually bother wearing panties, given the current location of her cunt, but then decided that her skin would probably do better with the extra layer of cotton while out walking, whether or not her vagina happened to be elsewhere at the moment. Said migratory vagina was sitting happy and open in the middle of her right-hand thigh, a dirty secret hidden underneath her skirt. As she walked, she thought that even with it back in place, she might occasionally enjoy going without underwear when she thought that she could get away with it. She was enjoying the feel of the open air wafting through her pubic hair and the feeling of doing something forbidden and yet mostly safe. She wouldn't want to actually be seen uncovered by anybody but her lover, but she was still enjoying the little spicy thrill of having a sexy secret that nobody but she and he would know about.

And actually, she was finding the current location of her cunt to be a little bit challenging in a pleasant way. She wasn't a woman whose thighs rubbed together when she walked, but they came close. Her cunt, however, was not flat. The truncated bulge of her outer labia stuck out a little bit beyond the normal level of her skin, and then the pubic hair that came with it stuck out a little further still. What that meant was that with every step Maria took, her cunt was stimulated lightly, a gentle brushing of her other thigh against her hair and sometimes just a feather's brush across her labia. Any individual touch was not so much, but after half an hour of walking, she was getting to be on edge and antsy with arousal.

What she'd really like, she thought, would be to knock Fernando to the ground and fuck him on the spot. But that wasn't very practical at the moment, not out here in this crowded park. Instead, she decided to take the pressure off a bit and towed Fernando over to a spot where they could sit and watch a busker juggling. Ignoring open benches, Maria found a clean spot on the grass and set herself down cross-legged, skirt protectively curtaining out around her kness. Fernando sat beside her, legs out straight, and she leaned over to whisper an explanation of her problem in his ear.

He smiled and squeezed her knee, quite chastely and appropriately, and they sat and listened for a while. Maria settled down as she enjoyed the show, the other people watching, and the sun streaming down across them from above. Eventually, they moved again. Maria opened her purse and dropped a bill in the busker's open box, and she and Fernando went off to find a cafe and some lunch. In the bathroom, Maria wet a paper towel and cleaned up the sticky traces that had accumulated around her vagina and on the thigh across from it.

The afternoon passed in much the same sort of fashion. Some wandering and a little shopping, sitting around and talking and absorbing the energy of the city. Fernando had a project that he was enjoying at his job and Maria was looking forward to the next lecture in the series at the library. They talked about vacation plans, considering what their first joint trip might be and where they'd like to go. Maria was happy with her man, and he was happy with her too.

They returned to Maria's bearing fish and tomatoes and a bottle of cachaca. Maria played sous chef for Fernando as he cooked, and equal amounts of the liquor went into the fish and the caipirinhas that they slowly sipped. Neither of them was looking to get drunk, but Fernando claimed that the dish could not properly be appreciated without it as accompaniment, and Maria enjoyed its cool and sweet lime taste.

As she watched Fernando cook, Maria reflected on how the day had passed, and how they'd been spending much more time together lately. She loved him, she realized, not just as a boyfriend and a lover, but somebody who could be more than just that in her life. As she reflected on her realization, she wondered just when that had happened. It wasn't new. She saw that now. But it had snuck up on her bit by bit, and the last two weeks were just a catalyst that helped her realize something that she'd known already, at least at some level deep inside her mind.

Setting the dish he'd made to cool beside the plaintains he had fried, and with beans still slowly simmering on another burner of the stove, Fernando came and sat across from her. "You're very quiet now," he said.

She looked at him and said, "Just lost in thought." She smiled a nervous smile, now wondering if he returned her feelings or if he did not. He liked to be with her, that was clearly true, but like and love were miles apart. And she was still not quite sure what to do with love herself. She'd used the word before, but she'd been younger then, and now she knew that what she had been feeling then was more infatuation or desire. Not this slow and easy feeling that had her sinking unexpectedly into thoughts about children and growing old. It all boiled up inside her and Maria was suddenly on the edge of tears, just lost in waves of oscillating want and fear.

"I..." she started, trailing off, suddenly aware of how long she'd been silent. "Fernando. I was watching you cooking." Words were coming hard, but she had to speak. He was looking at her seriously now, no doubt unsure where she was going, but clearly paying close attention, waiting to hear what she would say.

She drew a breath and continued. "I was watching you cook, and thinking about the day we've had and thinking how much I love to be with you. And that's when I realized I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you. I want more times like these, I want to live our lives together, and I want to stay with you forever."

As she'd spoken, he'd reached out to her and held her hand, firm grasp and solid, never letting go. "Maria," he said, and he paused too. "I want to be with you as well. I'm tired of leaving you to go away back to an apartment that no longer feels like home. I want days like this, and nights. I want to cook for you and clean with you. I want to see each other good and bad and tired and cranky and hold each other when we grieve." He paused, then said, "I guess that's love? I do not think I've ever known just when to use that word. Nothing feels like in a movie or on television. No dancing birds or twirling singing in the air. And I won't shower you with roses. That's not me."

"No, that's not you." Maria's eyes were streaming with tears of relief and joy. "And I don't want your roses either. But I want to feed you bites of this lovely fish you made for us." Maria gripped his hand harder, feeling like she could never squeeze him tight enough, needing and patient both at the same time. His eyes were wet as well, she saw.

Their dinner was wonderful.

After the dishes were clean and leftovers packed away, they moved over to the couch and talked. Maria could feel that things had shifted irrevocably between them. They both were holding less reserve in place, even though right now they were not talking love. But Fernando talked about his grandmother, and how he'd learned to cook from her, and revealed a little of the torn-between-two-continents feeling that he often experienced as an immigrant. Maria told some stories of her own as well, struggles with identity and history, how she felt caught between cultures in a different way, and as a woman too.

It felt so peaceful, lying there on the couch with her head on his thigh. Maria was almost ready to drift off there, listening to Fernando's masculine voice as he was telling her another story. Her eyes were closed and he must have realized that she had ceased to listen to him, for he paused and said, "I guess it's been a long and tiring day. Shall we proceed to bed?"

She nodded and rolled herself around and up, pulled on his hand as he got up, and as they walked to go and get ready for bed, she asked him, "When can you move in?"

He laughed a happy laugh and said, "What, you don't want to move into my place instead?"

"Mine's better. We usually end up here anyway, you know." She was leaning on his shoulder, snuggling happily as she thought about the future.

"That is true indeed. Well, soon, I guess. I'd like to. We'll have to figure out the details when we're not so tired. And I'm definitely going to upgrade a few things in the kitchen." He was being mock serious now, and she laughed at him as they began to go about their night routines.

In bed, Maria pulled Fernando close to her and laid a hand across his chest possessively. He smelled so good, so much her man. She was tired, but happy, and she felt a stirring edge of desire to claim him one more time, the first time since they'd said they loved each other. Her hand went flowing down his side and to his shorts, just feeling around the outside on the cloth to start.

Fernando made a little happy humming noise and closed his eyes. Maria felt him slowly hardening beneath her touch. Encouraged, she found the window in his boxers and slipped her fingers in, finding his cock and touching it, just handling its length and girth, appreciating the subtle veins and ridges in its stiff shape. Above, she bent her head to place her nose into his chest, inhaling his scent and brushing her face around his hairy chest.

Her thigh was tingling now as her vagina readied for a fuck, swelling and lubricating in anticipation of his loving cock. Maria thought about positions, and decided to try some scissoring. She pulled at his shorts and Fernando took them off. She thought about her own panties, then decided to leave them in place, along with her bra. She felt she wanted to be contained. Throwing her right leg over Fernando's leg, she rubbed her needy cunt across his crotch, feeling his precum-dripping cock go back and forth across her folds. He reached down and gently held her leg, directing it and using his thumbs to open up her cunt.

Maria settled her leg down feeling his penis slip inside her thigh. She flexed her strong leg muscles, bringing her thighs together. The one with her cunt ground nicely down against his cock between his thighs, while the other was helping to press her panty-covered groin against his hip. He tightened up his legs against her also, and her leg was locked against him tightly, cunt and all. She flexed and wriggled and she barely moved, deep grinding feeling tight and intimate and hard. The pressure was rocking back and forth against her throbbing clit, and Maria grabbed on across his chest with her arm, pulling tightly there as well.

Her breath was hot against his neck, her breathing hard and rhythmic. His was too, and he was shifting back and forth within her grasp, locking her in and pulling her tightly just as she did back to him. Their grinding tight-locked fuck was building up, its pleasure inescapable. Her cunt and groin were both so tight, pulsations and need that had no place to go, no way to take a break and breathe. When she slacked off a bit to catch her breath, her man did not, and now she felt his eager motions sloshing extra hard against the upper and lower edges of her cunt, churning her eager juicy walls. A moment more and then Maria twisted back and forth, moving her leg slightly from side to side to add another layer of motion to the stimulation of her cunt.

At that, she felt things letting go, and the orgasm that she'd felt building for a while exploded from her mouth in incoherent panting yells. Fernando kept on driving in against her clenching cunt and Maria kept on coming, now feeling the pleasure on the edge of unbearable and starting to wrench away, then jerking and crying and yanking tighter back again against her grasping lover. She felt him come inside her at some point, then slowly felt his cock go soft, but kept him pinned inside as long as she was able, savoring the feeling and the messy wetness in her cunt. Both of them were soaked in sweat, shaking and gasping and separating just enough to stare into each others' eyes.

"I love you still," Maria said, and felt it was a silly thing to say.

Fernando didn't seem to mind. He said, "I love your passion when you fuck." She kissed him deeply and they pulled apart, not far, but just enough to start to cool. Their legs were touching at the knees and feet, and Maria held onto Fernando's arm, needing breathing space to cool but also unwilling to let go.

"I really liked that position," Maria said, "I think I'll leave my cunt in place on my thigh for a little while."

"Yes," Fernando replied, "I like how tight and deep that we could get. Again tomorrow?"

She poked at him and, laughing, said, "Why not tonight?"

"Oh God, I think that it would kill me if we tried. Tomorrow, love!"

She kissed him lightly and she said, "A deal. I'm not sure I could fuck again tonight in any case. I'm getting sore."

He returned the kiss with interest. Their tongues embraced and kissing went on deep and slow for several minutes. When they came up for air, Maria said, "It's different now that we are talking love."

Fernando cocked a question in his look.

"I guess," she said, "I'm claiming you. It's like when we fucked, it's not just fun and play, you're also mine. I'm feeling very territorial."

He laughed and squeezed her lovingly and said, "I promise to be a wealthy and exclusive province in your kingdom."

"You'd better!" Maria smiled and said. She squeezed him back and kissed him once again. "You know I really love you, right?"

"I do," he said, "And I love you as well."

Exhausted and hot and close and deeply satisfied, Maria and Fernando settled down to sleep.