Passion at Play on Midsummer's Day

Soon enough, Bobbi was everywhere. She was on every talk, morning, and interview show. I watched her interview on The View and laughed when she told Whoopie her favorite dish was Suzibelle blueberry acorn pancakes.

"I could eat them all day, given the chance," she said with a wink to the camera as the group chowed down on a stack of her signature dish.

By the spring, she had her cooking show: Bobbi Rendel, the Appalachian Chef.

It was now late June as I crossed Sierra City on the Pacific Crest Trail. As promised, I had begun my trek in late April and was about 1,300 miles into my sojourn on the rugged West Coast trail. We vowed to try and cross paths again. But that was long before she became famous. She had a TV show now, a production company. Costco was selling outdoor cookware with her name on it. There was no way she had four months to walk the length of the west coast.

Good for Bobbi. I was happy for her success and hoped it brought the happiness she was looking for last summer. I liked the solitude and the chance to focus on myself. After this trek, I would work on my Ph.D.

I was in a small store buying more supplies for the next long leg of my trek when I heard a familiar voice. It was Bobbi! My heart raced as I moved through the aisle, looking for her friendly face, and then realized it was coming from the TV set. She was teaching Kelly Clarkson how to make the perfect omelet. My heart fell. There was no chance of her being here or anywhere on the trail ahead if she was there.

I watched for a few minutes, then went to the coffee grinder to get a week's caffeine and some dehydrated potatoes.

"Get blueberries here because the good ones don't grow wild on the west coast," Bobbi said.

I looked at the TV to see what recipe she was discussing, but it was a commercial.

"Also, coconut oil. It keeps better. And you can use it as lube."

Bobbi wasn't on the TV, but I could hear her voice. Confused, I turned around to see a woman standing a few feet from me. By her attire, she was also a trail trekker. It took a moment for it all to register. Bobbi was here. Right in front of me. Here on Midsummer's Day, just as we discussed a year ago.

I stood there staring at her, trying to think of something clever. But all I managed to say was, "I gotta pee so bad," and I ran up and hugged her.

She responded in kind, and then I ran off toward the bathroom.

"You mind if I watch," she said with a laugh. "For old times' sake."

I came out of the store to find Bobbi checking her gear and posing for a photo with a young couple who had recognized her.

"So, here's the thing about Sierra City, the camping here sucks. Tourists, kids, dogs. Not a good spot for miles. But I know a spot at Lone Pines."

"Is that a campground?" I replied.

An hour later, we were passionately embraced in the considerably large shower of the Sunrise Suite at Lone Pines luxury resort hotel overlooking the mountains.

Our bodies were rid of the smell of campfires and sweat as we anxiously prepared ourselves for each other. Bobbi got out of the shower and ran a bath.

"Really? I'm kind of wrinkled from the half-hour shower."

She held a Lady Bic razor and shaving cream, then stepped into the tub.

I followed her, sitting between her open legs and leaning against her chest. She felt like heaven to lean upon. Her large breasts became my pillows. Wetting the razor, she rubbed water on my breasts and gently shaved around my areolas. Allowing her to shave me there was intimate and hardly embarrassing.

She gently reached around me as I opened my legs. Rubbing the shave gel on my thick bush, then used scissors to trim my long pubic hair. Once she thinned my bush, she brought out the razor and gently removed my coat for hair, revealing my swollen pussy. Each stroke hurt slightly as the hair was pulled the cut. The pain was pleasurable, and I let out a small sigh.

Bobbi reacted by gently kissing my ear and sucking on my earlobe. She resumed shaving, having cleaned away all hair from the left side of my slit.

She was moving painfully slowly and deliberately teasing me as she groomed me. I could not wait any longer. I turned around in the shallow tub and stood so my half-shave pussy was in Bobbi's face.

"If you don't fuck me now, I swear I will call that desk clerk Who was eyeing the two of us and have him fuck me in front of you."

Bobbie reacted by leading forward and planting her face between my legs. A moment later, I felt her wet tongue snaking between the slit, half-shaven vagina.

We exited the tub, no towels, and dropped on the bed, our bodies wet and intertwined. My fingers found her unshaven slit while her fingers entered mine across my half-shaven pussy. Our movement went from gentle to frenetic. From soft exploring to finger fucking. We each lifted a leg in unison to allow the other deeper access with their fingers.

Bobbie wanted me to taste and pushed me to my back; then cat crawled up my body. Supporting most of her weight on her feet, she squatted down over my face until her pussy was on my chin. I was trapped beneath her, looking up at her as she looked down at me. For a moment, I thought she was going to piss on me. I mean, I only knew her for two days. What if she was into that?

She slid forward just enough, so my tongue could explore her slit. She never took her eyes off me, watching my tongue from above as it slapped against her engorged clit.

"I missed your tongue," she whispered. "I missed all of you."

She was getting worked up and wanted to slow her roll. She slid back until her large breasts were over my face. I remembered her large, puffy areolas and wanted to taste them desperately. Gripping her right breast, Bobbi leaned down and fed it to me like a mother to a child. She tasted of clean flesh and fresh sweat. Manipulating her breast like a man does with his cock, She gently pushed and pulled her nipple in and out of my mouth, then fed me the other nipple until her tits glistened with my saliva.

My heartbeat quickened, and I began to sweat slightly. The dark tufts of my underarm hair became damp, and my pheromones attempted to seduce her subliminally. Bobbi brought her mouth to my armpits, worshiping them.

"I want us to cum together," she said, looking up at me.

I nodded in agreement. The idea of feeling both our bodies seize up with desire at the exact moment motivated us to pay attention to the other, listen for cues, and manipulate just enough and not too fast.

Bobbi crawled off me and then turned her body so her ass was in my face and her face was in my pussy. I wanted to tell her how much I didn't like the 69 position, but when her tongue hit my clit; I could see this was much different than having some guy scuff his cock in my mouth to face fuck me while he fumbled to locate my pussy. She found that button instantly, and her glistening hair-covered labia was soft and inviting, a far cry from a throbbing cock looking for a dumpster.

She lowered her pussy to my face, and I probed her gently, my mouth moving up and down her slit. I grasped her ass and pulled it to my face. Directly before me, I could see her pouting puckernut begging to be tasted. My tongue washed over her clenched hole, alerting her body of my intentions. I then sharpened my tongue and let it drill into her earthy darkness, where she tasted of herbs, savory with a familiar fragrance like slightly burned coffee. As a chef, I'm sure she could identify more flavors than I ever could.

While I worked her ass, Bobbi suckled my clit, taking a moment to breathe a deep sigh of pleasure when my exploration excited more nerve endings. I felt the surprise of her fingers penetrating my behind while her tongue worked its magic on my clit.

Did I say I hate the 69? I stand corrected; I love the 69 as long as it's with a woman, this specific woman.

We began to match our moves in seconds, and I could feel the rush of orgasmic energy begin in my extremities. Her pussy kisses and manipulation of my ass pushed me to the point of no return. From Bobbi's moans, I could tell she was close.

I could have cum in that moment, but I wanted something unique. If this were the last time I made love to Bobbi, I wanted a memory to replay alone in bed when my fingers explored myself in the future.

"Not like this," I pleaded. "Let me hold you."

Bobbi paused and rolled over, then crawled up so we lay side by side, her leg between mine so our pussies connected. Our mouths met, and we mixed the flavors we carried from each other's bodies with our tongues.

Our clits were engorged and rubbing together as we tribbed (a word I learned later when Googling: how to be a lesbian). We both had large clits, and at this moment, they were as big as possible as mine rubbed on hers, and hers poked at mine.

Each pass of her body across my slit shot lightening through my extremities. I held her tight. Very tight, strapping her in for the wave of the orgasms that approached.

Here it came! I ground my pussy against hers, and both opened like hungry mouths. Our clits rubbed, our secretions blended, our mouths probed as our bodies heated up, ready to explode with pleasure.

The last thing I recall before my body shook with ecstasy was burying my face in her armpit like before, smelling her alluring aroma, which brought me to my orgasm. Bobbie's orgasm arrived a few seconds later, close enough to call the sensations mutual.,

Like last year, we were spent. Our bodies were done for the night, and we slept in place, our arms wrapped in each other.

In the morning, we showered and shaved away the last remnants of our excessive pubic hair. I was sad to see it go. I had come to enjoy my hairy self and decided this winter, no leg shaving and who knows, perhaps underarm hair was sexy enough to be acceptable.

We quietly ate breakfast on the balcony of our hotel.

"What are the chances we would meet each other on Midsummer's Day two years in a row," I asked.

"Zero," she replied. "I passed you a week ago near Gold Lake. I walked right past you. I stopped and watched you go. Were you ignoring me? Mad at me? I didn't know. I followed you for a week until yesterday, Midsummer's Day."

"You realize we've known each other for precisely two days. Both of them were Midsummer's Day," I replied.

"Maybe it is magical."

"I think the word I would use is transformative."

"I started that trek last year to find something missing in my life."

"Same here," Bobbi said. "I found so much on that trail. Content for my book. Independence and..."

"Me, you found me," I interrupted, "and I found you."

"And that was the best thing I've ever found," Bobbi said as she brushed hair from my face.

"I'm not going to do this again next year. I can't. I don't know whether my body or job will let me walk two thousand miles every summer looking for a one-night stand."

"Well, we must spend Midsummer's Day doing something next year. Why don't we discuss it every day at breakfast?" Bobbie said with a smile and a hopeful look in her eyes.

"No," I replied.

She looked dejected.

"I would like to discuss this in bed every night before we fall asleep," I said as I gently kissed her.

"This way, if there is magic in Midsummer's Day, perhaps it will find its way to us in our dreams."

Bobbi smiled and started to cry.

"It's decided then. When we fall asleep in each other's arms and wake, I can't think of two better moments in my day."

We embraced each other and threw our tattered hiking shoes in the trash. Our quest was over.

_____________________________________________________________

On their third Midsummer Day, the married couple of Suebelle and Bobbi found themselves in Dalama, Sweden. Not hiking, but rather researching Bobbi's new cookbook, A Midsummer's Day Feast.

On Midsummer Eve, a night the Swedes and the two lovers considered magical, they visited a psychic as this particular day of the year is known for being the best time for telling people's futures.

The psychic smiled at their combined auras and told them of a beautiful future together...not just together, but with children, then grandchildren, and a long life well lived.

In the darkness, Bobbi led Suebelle on a forage in the woods. According to legend, the local plants acquired healing and fertility powers on that night of the year. Bobbi made tea from the plants, which they both enjoyed, and got to bed early before visiting the insemination clinic on Midsummer's Day to start their new family.

If we shadows have offended,

Think but this, and all is mended,

That you have but slumbered here

While these visions did appear.

And this weak and idle theme,

No more yielding but a dream.

-William Shakespeare