Yorkshire Pudding Ch. 02

Without makeup, I can see more age and past disappointments in and around her eyes. But they are boldly accessible, two unfettered portals, so open as to pull me in.

Her nose is exquisite, a bit snub, slightly turned up. So perfect that it sits anonymously on her face until her interest and or passions rise and her nostrils flare open. But at this moment, they are behaving and I move on with my inspection.

Her mouth and chin are a strange pair. She seems to lead with her chin, both physically and metaphorically. A bit of a fighter. But lying just above it, her lips are soft and full, always on the verge of a quivering vulnerability.

I wince inwardly when I see the bruises on her biceps and elbows where I grabbed her and then pinned her to the wall.

Her breasts have stretch marks but are still full with an upward swell and her areola are light pink, feathering to almost scarlet at her swollen nipples. Stretch marks across her belly (has she had children? Don't know....) but it is flat and tight with a shallow belly button.

She is completely waxed below her navel. The "Brazilian' strip of hair above her slit shows her to be a naturally dark redhead with those shining burgundy / purple highlights showing through.

Her hood is pulled back, her clitoris standing pink and proud. Her labia are full, still somewhat aroused, slightly dark, almost brown along the outer fold, but brilliantly pink on the inner folds as they disappear under and into her.

I already marveled at her hands, sleek and well cared for. Now I have felt their touch and they fascinate me even more.............I pause, wondering what it would be like to simply hold that hand in mine...............walking along a beach, down a city boulevard...........

Peeking out of the pretzel formed by her folded legs are two feet to match the hands. Nicely pedicured and painted. This woman obviously cares for her body, loves her body........ as I am coming to as well.

I see a woman who has lived a full life, while not an athlete, she is fit. Her body, all of her so new to me and so oddly familiar...........and yet, that is just the shell, the vessel for the woman within.

I run my gaze back up to her eyes, thinking that I have never seen anyone convey such openness and vulnerability. I start to speak but my throat twists around the words. I actually am so filled with this strange excess of familiarity and glut of connection that I cannot speak. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

Unlike my earlier entrance, it's not a lack of reaction. I am actually filled with feelings and thoughts, but their intensity and volume have collided into some barrier. They are backing up inside of me. A reservoir of understanding and emotion held back by a dam created by the limitations of speech and expression.

She cocks her head a bit and begins to look concerned. This immediately narrows the soul conduit she opened for me............ we both feel it closing........... remembering what she asked me to do, she pushes her concern aside, focusing only on giving me free access to her spirit.

She opens herself wide again, letting me struggle on my own. So unobstructed is she to me that for a moment, I imagine her sternum splitting apart and a shining light consuming me.

I stop struggling. I look at her, into her and then search inside myself for some way to tell her, to show her what I see. Her pupils are so dilated that they have pushed her irises into nothingness. They are now black pools, infinitely, magnetically deep.

There is a visceral pull from somewhere inside her and I want to be a mirror for her, to somehow show her how bold and brave and beautiful she is.

Another level reveals itself..........there is a fecundity rising up out of her. She is a mature woman and can no longer conceive, but this is a fertile, soul enriching energy is enveloping me, galvanizing me and I feel myself opening to her as my response...........

Goaded by her boundless exposure of herself, I want her to see my willingness, my wounds, my fears and my courage. She seems to discern what I am feeling and somehow, opens even more, giving me license to continue doing the same.

It feels like we are now moving toward each other, but our bodies are motionless.

We are on a precipice. Words have become inadequate and unnecessary. A primal, shared permission flows between us in agreement and the precipice evaporates.

Her eyes are filling with tears and I notice that my hands are trembling again.

She reaches across and intertwines our fingers as my vision blurs from tears welling up in my own eyes. I begin taking deep breaths that feel as though my chest is being pried open.

Across from me, Miriam gasps for air. A keening wail slides from her throat and the tears spill from her eyes. The sound of her cry pierces whatever holds remain inside me and I join her, in deep wracking sobs.

Leaning into each other, our foreheads touch, our breathing syncopated as we begin to openly weep, emptying ourselves into the delta of our touch points.

I truly don't know where I stop and she begins. Our tears and sob spittle are splashing on our crossed legs. I can hear only her groans, her roars and her cries but not my own, even though I feel them emanating from my throat.

All the guilt, shame, rejection and hurt that I have experienced seem to be bursting out through my chest which I am now certain has torn open. But with each burst I am lighter and with each inward breath, I am stronger.

As my losses and defeats flow out of me, they commingle with the sorrows exiting her. Ever rising, they incinerate above us in a raging pyre.

Every aspiration, every dream I have felt, remains, and I feel them fusing with hers, spinning roots ever deeper in us and between us.

And as we merge into one another, I am severely aware of her, her essence and being, her crux.

My expansion is now from within her, I identify the sensation of having breasts and feel their lush weight on my chest. I feel hot breath coursing across erect nipples while below, in the belly everything feels different, richer, more complex.

There is a hunger building INSIDE me, not in appendages hanging between my legs.

In the maelstrom of our sensory union, I realize I am feeling all of her, from her, of her. I can feel a womb and a richness between my legs as my labia swell and ripen. My vulva opens and the walls of my vestibule go moist and then wet from the glands within...........

I can feel the dull soreness of the bruises on her arms and the sharp sting of the tear inside her lip.

Desire is now a fire between my legs and I want to be filled, filled by her. I imagine her sliding herself across my wet and open loins, then pushing herself into me, filling me. I feel nothing of my own male erogenous areas.

A pressure builds outside me as a penis, her penis, probes and then forces itself inside me.

She fills me and I engulf her, we are somehow now complete ............and I lose any ability to record or analyze where we go from here...... together as one............... and I, she, we, let go and are truly released.

Gradually my chest begins closing and my breathing calms. My ears are ringing and I can feel a singular heartbeat pulsing through our clenched fingers. I can smell us, the tang of dissipated fears and body sweat.

We slowly roll our foreheads up, pushing our noses together. Snot and drool cover our lips and chins, our cheeks are wet with tears. Our open mouths pant in syncopation and I still can't quite tell where either of us begins or ends.

We begin nuzzling each other, smearing snot and tears across our faces. Noses roaming, still draining, while tongues come out to play, lapping up the moisture.

Our fingers remain fiercely intertwined.

Finally, our bruised lips meet and we begin kissing each other in long, slow drinks of each other's being. I don't understand what is happening but it is richer than anything I have known.

I still sense her more than me, then gradually, me more than her and finally, we become two separate beings again and our fingers untwine as we sit upright.

She looks like a young girl. The wounds behind her eyes are gone. The lines and sags of age are still there but they carry no disappointment, no loss. She is cleansed and behind it all, there is a self assured smile coming out of those eyes, open, still vulnerable, but grounded and firm.

And she is keenly scrutinizing me.

"Do I look like you do?" she asks.

"You look free, reborn."

"So do you."

"What the fuck was that? Have you ever done that before? What is going on?"

"I don't know"

We start talking over each other, trying to put words to the turbulent, chaotic journey we just shared................ Suffering each other's deepest fears and losses, seeing snatches of the other's life, reveling in victories, melting and molding into each other, anchoring as one, until we were seemingly reversed. And the final annihilation of selves during the incomprehensible moments before our return.

"I couldn't tell where I stopped and you began............ I imagined..... no, I felt... could feel you, your insides, our insides, my vagina. I wanted you inside me, filling me and I think you did.

"Me too, I could feel your penis, no, that's not it, I could feel mine........I could feel the weight of my testicles, the swollen fullness of my shaft, I felt I was entering you, filling you up. And then everything went blurry, like I couldn't keep up, but I let it take me. I am just not sure where."

"Exactly, there was kind of a mental disconnect point and I have no way to describe it. And it came right after you entered me. I think we lost consciousness. Not passed out like the term is usually used, but we stopped being deliberate or considered."

"Oh my god, it was scary. But we did not flinch, did we? Fucking amazing. I have been down quite a few different extreme therapy and meditation paths, Rolfing and even more, but that was unlike anything other than possibly psychedelics."

"I did a lot of fucking on acid and it's incredible, but nothing like that."

"Of course you have." She laughs that delightful laugh of hers. "But seriously, if we could bottle that and sell it, we would own the world! No, that's not it..............we would save the world!"

"Why did this happen to us? Was it the mutual repressed needs or are we just two star crossed gods? Because that's how it made me feel!"

"I think it's a bit of all of it, and by its own nature demands to remain beyond understanding as I seriously doubt it can be replicated."

"Well not without another 60 or 70 years of living to create the backlog of repressed emotions."

She laughs........... "Spot on, dear boy, spot on. Well what do we do from here? Sex seems a bit mundane after that experience."

"Agreed, let's not set an agenda for right now, but I would like to lay with you and hold you in my arms."

"I would like that. And you can tell me what happened on Koh Samui."

Coming Next - YORKSHIRE PUDDING - CHAPTER THREE

SHE SQUIRTS

HE GETS MILKED

Having had some rough sex and then an otherworldly coupling, they once again recalibrate. It gets messy, very messy -- but in all the good ways.