Rediscovering Rebecca

"Oh yeah, baby," she panted. "Right there... that's it... keep going... that's it... lose yourself in there..."

I felt her losing control and moments later, she stiffened and shuddered with her second climax of this young Monday morning. Her mound seemed to lunge into mine, her legs locked tightly behind me, grunting, fully indulging her carnal needs. I could feel a new, warm wetness at our juncture, coating her thighs and mine.

Having just released a copious load into her just eight hours earlier, I was able to time this orgasm better. I slowed my tempo as she came down from her crest, holding her gently.

"Honey, I think I did something when I came just then,... something... wet," she said. "I don't think I peed, but there's something soggy down there."

"Baby, whatever it is, I'm going to lick up every drop just as soon as I push you over the line again, this time with me," I said.

Our mouths and tongues re-engaged in a lewd dance, something that could best be described as mouth-fucking. By now, we had given ourselves over to our animal responses, shamelessly rutting and intent only on satisfying nature's essential desires.

"Rick, let's try this," Becky said. I withdrew for a moment, long enough for her to flip onto her tummy and raise her backside off the bed, her gaping vagina visible beneath the brown star of her anus and beckoning to me from between its pink folds. "From behind."

On my knees, I positioned myself behind her and slipped easily back into her as she groaned in satisfaction. As before, she continued to roll her angry, erect and wet clitoral hood between her two fingers as my waist pounded into the lean globes of her rounded ass, driving my twitching erection slightly downward, stimulating anew the forward wall of her grotto and her G-spot. It didn't take long for the combination to register with her.

She sought to slam herself back into me as my thrusts deepened and my tempo increased, but soon, I was pushing so far forward that her mound was pressed nearly into the mattress with her hand pinned underneath. That, it turned out, was the ideal angle for her yet.

Control was slipping from Becky fast. Her breathing was becoming ragged as were the movements of her hips. She began grunting instructions with every breath.

"Harder Rick... fuck me... harder... give me your cum, baby," she said as I felt the muscles of her pelvic floor begin once more to contract and release as she wailed in orgasmic surrender. The clenching effect sent me over the top as I thrust as deeply as possible, releasing the first rope of semen into Becky's spasming pussy.

We were both wailing in sexual bliss, our duet filling both floors of her house as climactic jolts coursed through our joined, naked bodies in a moment of utterly unguarded intimacy.

About five minutes later, when our respiration returned to normal in the afterglow of an extraordinary morning of lovemaking, we lay naked and still in each other's embrace.

"I guess the least I can do is offer to strip the bed and change the sheets," I said as I looked down at numerous wet patches left by our varied and intermingled secretions. "We're messy. I like messy."

"Deal. But maybe we shower and get dressed first. You don't have much of a wardrobe to choose from. I guess those red golf britches will have to do for now," she said.

We showered. Together. Soaping and rinsing and drying every inch of each other. And as aspirational as the notion of another round of lovemaking seemed, bodies need time to recycle.

Even after a breakfast of eggs and sausage and waffles, and even as I cranked my Range Rover to return to my beachfront house, Becky and I comforted ourselves in the knowledge that we would share intimacy again soon -- hours, possibly days, but never again a matter of years.

► RESOLUTION

Neither of us have sold our houses. We both own them outright, we can afford the upkeep and we like the variety. So we keep them both. Because we can.

There are days when Becky and I take leisurely strolls along the beach at Ocean View, stopping occasionally to kiss, but returning to my house for the unrestricted, uninhabited lovemaking that we denied ourselves more than a decade previous. Sometimes, we stay there together for days.

Other times, we cohabit in her house in Ghent, relaxing on her deck, around her fire pit, drifting off on the sofa in the den in front of the television or making out there like teenagers before taking our sexual explorations upstairs.

And occasionally, when circumstances such as travel or visitors at one venue or another dictate, we spend a rare night apart in our own houses. The parting, even for a night or two, makes our catch-up sex that much more explosive when we are back together again.

The physical part, though, is not really the best of it. The best part is having my best friend back with me almost all the time. Yes, as she says, I make her laugh. But she does the same for me as no one else ever has. She knocks the barbed edges off a tough day, she's my sunshine, even on the coldest, cloudiest days. She makes the ordinary adventurous, be it a trip to the grocery to a drive down the freeway.

In April, a month after we were reunited and quickly realized and professed our love for each other, we reprised our night at the Goochland Drive-In. This time, in the cargo area of the Range Rover, we fully consummated our sexual passions, and then drove to our room -- in a funky, boutique, spa hotel downtown, not the Short Pump convention hotel -- and this time made the sort of celebratory love fate denied us last time. How celebratory? The front desk called our room because of a noise complaint from the adjacent room.

We agreed that we should not wait long to tell our grown kids about our relationship. All four -- her daughters, Alyssa and Nina, and my son, Cooper, and daughter, Sarah -- greeted the news enthusiastically.

"Becky was your friend from a long time ago, wasn't she?" Sarah said when I told her. "I remember you two used to go places and do things and you were always laughing like best friends when you were around each other. I wondered why it didn't turn into more back then and why you quit hanging out."

At the next Saturday at Nana's, Alyssa pulled me off into a corner for "the talk." I was a little worried at first.

"You and mom didn't fool me for a minute. I could tell last time you were here that you both missed each other, wanted each other. A girl catches things like that about her mom," Alyssa said. "I knew it a dozen years ago, too, and it broke my heart that you two drifted apart."

"Mom's always said she's done with long-term relationships, certainly marriage. She may be telling you that now, too, but I don't believe it and neither should you," Alyssa said.

"This time she's not saying that. Neither of us are," I told Alyssa, watching her eyes widen at the revelation. "I'd sooner saw my leg off than lose her again."

"Stay tuned," I said, winking at Alyssa.

▼▼▼

It's mid-June now.

I put a large diamond ring on the third finger of Becky's left hand. We haven't set a date. Maybe we will later. Maybe we never will. If the mood hits us, we'll sneak off and do it. Because, by mutual preference, we are playing it by ear as to whether we ever intend to formalize things legally by marriage, I suppose you could argue we're not actually engaged.

Bottom line: I didn't like the idea of not having something on her hand to show her every waking moment that I love her and the world that I love her as much as any man ever loved his spouse.

Last month, we spent the day together at a concert on the beachfront in Virginia Beach -- a day in May so uncharacteristically chilly that the sweatshirts we brought with us proved insufficient to the Atlantic breeze after the sun set. So we returned to my house and spent the night in a made-for-two sleeping bag amid the dunes on the approach from the shore to my deck.

A younger couple walking down the beach much closer to the houses than is prudent caught us in flagrante delicto.

"Jeez, grandpa, get a room," the mouthy kid said.

"Don't need one. I own this property and you're trespassing," I said. His girlfriend tugged him back toward the public access portion closer to the water line.

Every morning I wake up next to Becky is a blessing. Life is fun again -- for both of us -- because the world gave us a do-over, and we seized it and held on for dear life.

She's got about seven more years before she retires, and when that happens, we plan to spend a whole year traveling the world together. Who knows how many years we still have: we're in the autumn of our time and we're slowing down. But we are finding mature love to be the most fulfilling, and that's love of all kinds, not just physical. We take the time that twenty- and thirty-somethings can't or won't to savor each other, to listen to each other, to experience sunsets and birthdays and walks in the woods and game-saving triple plays and vinyl albums from the '70s played on turntables from the same era and holding hands and our children and grandchildren and an evening at the movies... all of that.

The Lord willing, we've got lots more chapters to write: the loving, the fun, the erotic, the thrilling. Maybe I'll come back here from time to time and share some of it with you.

Well, as much as Becky will allow, anyway.

▲▲▲

( This is an open-ended, occasional series following the mature life and love of Rick and Becky, told from Rick's perspective. Check back periodically for updates.)