We slept on the sun-porch that stretched across the back of his elderly aunt’s old farmhouse. Our single beds were arranged in an L-shape, with heads meeting. From this position we were treated to a large picture window overlooking the pastures and the dilapidated barn. The window was dressed in old lace curtains that had yellowed through the years.
An old rooster crowed his morning alarm as he did without fail each time the sun reached five A.M. The sun was dancing through the old oak tree and across the room. Patterns created by the shadows of curtain lace skipped across my face and roused me further. From beneath the well-worn patchwork quilt, I heard him chuckle.
"Good morning sleepyhead! I was beginning to think you'd sleep the best part of the day away."
With that said, he threw his legs over the side of his bed and bounded into mine. After snuggling up beside me and encasing me in his arms, he brushed the hair from my face. He kissed my lips, teasingly parting them with the tip of his tongue. His tongue caressed mine with a flickering light touch.
When my body began to respond in appreciative reciprocation, he rose up on one elbow and grinned. "I've been watching you sleep. You have the most beautiful sensuous lips. Looking at them made me alive with memories of what they feel like wrapped around me."
With grace and a touch of drama, he got out of bed and positioned himself standing behind my pillow. His penis was bobbing enthusiastically above my face. All that separated us was a few inches that could easily be eradicated by a slight forward motion on his part or an upward rise on mine
Moistening my lips with my tongue I chose the latter. Taking the head of his penis into my mouth, I began a slow wet circular motion with my tongue. A sigh escaped him as the pleasurable sensation reached his brain. This encouraged me to work my way down the shaft with a feathering flicker motion.
He lost his balance momentarily and had to brace his knees against the bed for support. He loved it when I sucked the head and underside just like it was a melting ice cream cone. And just like a selfish child, I took great effort not to waste a drop. Having practiced this technique, I knew by his moans that he was expressing his absolute approval.
He rewarded me by caressing my nipples, stretching them and pinching them to a flushed pink color. He brushed his fingertips lightly up and down my torso, the insides of my legs, and ran his fingers through my pubic hair. Ever so gently, he stroked the outer edges of my vaginal lips. This caused my clitoris to blossom to attention, eager for any additional that might come that way.
I had reached the point of hot arousal. My nostrils flared as the smell of his sex permeated the air. He lowered his body so that his face was between my legs. First contact of his tongue on the soft folds of my vagina felt like an electric shock. My body leapt to interlock with the delights of his mouth and tongue. His beard titillated my clitoris as his tongue explored the inner walls of my vagina.
Continuing to suck and glide his shaft, the muscles of my throat relaxed and I was able to take all of him. His balls rubbed against my lips. They were fleshy, heavy, and with a coating of light blonde hair. Lifting them and cupping them in one hand, I felt him throb.
Spreading my lips with his thumb and forefinger, he exposed my clitoris. He blew a wave of hot breath over me and through me, before resuming his lavish tongue massage on my womanhood. I felt my orgasm rising. We began a rocking sucking motion in unison. Soon my orgasm washed through my body and into his, while his orgasm pulsed though mine. Instinctively I swallowed. Our bodies seemed to have no beginning and no end.
He raised his head and looked at me with a smile. We cuddled beside each other to enjoy the warm afterglow. Once again we delighted in the shadows created by the lace curtains skipping across the floor.
As if satisfied that he had aroused our slumber the rooster quieted down. Before drifting off into light slumber, he whispered into my ear. "That was delightful. How I love those lips!"
Aliceville is in a rural corner of Alabama. It is definitely not a Norman Rockwell setting.
Like most small towns in the South, the courthouse, municipal buildings, at least two diners, and a large Baptist Church were all built in a square around a small park. Once one leaves Main Street, all the roads lead to lanes of dusty red clay.
Unfortunately, I had packed like a city girl. My white shorts, sandals and pink painted toenails were all coated in a dusting of that red clay after walking the first block to Betty’s Diner.
Andrew opened the door for me with an amused twinkle in his eyes and the beginnings of a smirk on his lips. “You look like an orchid in a pig sty!”
I felt my Irish temper start to flare. But, the smell of the freshly brewed coffee and bacon frying on the griddle improved my demeanor.
There were about ten other early risers there already. Andrew nodded his head in greeting as we passed each table. Most were farmers who had been at work for hours.
I was the only woman there that morning with the exception of Betty.
We took the table in front of the picture window where the entire square was visible. Betty filled our coffee cups as she handed us each a menu.
“Mornin’, Betty, what’s good today”
“Short stack with country ham, chili omelet with grits, or biscuits and red-eye gravy, sweetie!” She flashed us both a big welcoming smile. She ran her tongue suggestively across her upper lip. It is a certainty that she winked at him! It was obvious that they had a history from one of his previous visits.
After we ordered, Andrew cocked his head toward the window and told me to take a good look at the courthouse. “See anything unusual?”
“Legend has it the courthouse is haunted.” He leaned forward with his elbows on the table and motioned me to do the same. “The story as it was told to me, “ he began, “was that a black man was accused of murdering a white man in the early 1930’s. After being arrested for the supposed crime, he was housed in the jail in the basement of the building.”
He took a sip of his coffee and allowed me to process that much of the tale. He loved telling stories! He would sound like Hal Holbrook as Mark Twain. He would annunciate his words and defy a listener to do anything less than wait eagerly for the story to develop.
“But, before his official trial date,” he continued, ‘several law abiding white citizens’ found him guilty without benefit of a trial. They freed him from his cell and then relieved him of his life by hanging him from a tree that stood in the middle of the park outside his cell. They say his image is visible when one looks up at the small round stained glass window near the steeple.”
He sat back in the booth and watched my face as I studied the courthouse once again.
“He’s still looking for his justice! Tonight you can see it for yourself. Welcome to Alabama!”
Suddenly, I just wasn’t hungry anymore.
Aunt Elsie was still vibrant and very alert for a woman of eighty-six years. The three of us got “gussied up” as she liked to say and went to dinner. She ran into some problems while trying to get her dress over her head.
Andrew called to me and asked me to help her dress. While Aunt Elsie and I primped, he went for a walk. We were ready and waiting for him when he returned a short time later.
I’m not sure why but Aunt Elsie retired shortly after we returned to the farm. Maybe she was verily tired from the excitement of the evening. But, my personal belief was that she was aware of the intensity Andrew and I shared and was granting us time alone.
Andrew came onto the porch where I sat listening to the crickets and frogs. He was carrying a backpack and a light jacket for each of us. “Let’s go for a walk.”
We walked in silence, holding hands, and headed toward Main Street. There was not a business open or another soul to be seen on the street. No cars, no people, no lights, not a sign of life!
I knew we were headed for the courthouse. Ghosts! We were going to see the ghost!
I was spooked. That was just what he wanted.
We stood there looking up at the stain-glassed window. He was impatient for me to see the image. I did! My brain had trouble accepting what it what it was seeing. But, I did see him! He looked so forlorn.
Andrew gave me a nudge to move with him and we began to make our way to the other side of the square. “I have something else to show you.”
We walked off of Main Street and down a long dark country road. “Did you choreograph this? Are you trying to scare me?”
He smiled devilishly and kept a forward motion. The road began to wind and climb. There was still no evidence of anyone else awake in this town but the two of us. We came to a rusted iron gate that was beside a rustic old church. The sign above the gate said Calvary Baptist Cemetery.
He ushered me through the gate, his arm was around my waist. “Come on!” He was challenging me. I actually love cemeteries in the daylight. I collect epitaphs. To learn about a town’s history, just walk around an old county cemetery.
“Might as well be brave,” I thought. He really wasn’t giving me a choice anyway. Besides, I was curious as to why he had brought me here.
First we explored what used to be an old church sanctuary. It was in disrepair, many of the pews missing, and the podium turned on its side. Andrew’s focus however was on the stained-glass windows. From his backpack he removed a small penlight and shined its beam over the colored glass. He moved closer and concentrated the light on the right hand corner.
“Dedicated to the Calvary Baptist Church, By the Benevolent Brotherhood, Aliceville, Alabama, 1937!” He read the words with passion. I could hear the indignation rise in his voice.
Andrew was a Berkley educated criminal defense attorney. Occasionally, when he returned home to visit the hills of Alabama where he was born, the roots and history that preceded him tormented his soul. It was the true love/hate albatross.
“Let it go, Andrew.” Quietly, I took his hand and guided him out of the church door and to the pathway that led to the moon lit graves.
He pulled me close to him, his arm around my waist, and we gingerly strolled hip to hip. He pointed over to area right at the edge of the hill. The view was spectacular! There were so few artificial lights to compete with the spectacle of stars. The smell of honeysuckle accentuated the air.
“Look,” he knelt in front of a headstone, “Colonel Ronald Barton Calhoun, Favorite Son, Army of Alabama”. His fingertips traced the carving. He laughed with amusement of his own thoughts! “He won’t mind!”
He stood up and reached behind the marker, in his hands was a blanket and a basket. He spread the blanket over the coping and set the basket beside it. He plopped down and patted the place he had reserved for me. It almost resembled a double bed! The marker resembled the headboard.
Now I knew why he had brought me here!
There he was stretched out with his arms folded behind his head, daring me with his eyes and impish grin, and invoking Colonel Calhoun as his witness. Andrew just oozed sexual allure.
“I’ve always wanted to dance naked under the stars!” I took his challenge and took off all of my clothing in a flash and danced to the sounds and harmony of Annie Lennox playing inside my head. Softly, I voiced her words and let my body flow with the rhythm, “Sweet dreams are made of this, who am I to disagree?”
I dropped to my knees at his feet and began to crawl up his body. First came his belt, and then the opening of his zipper. His cock waved in the cool night air, He was exposed, fully erect and totally beautiful. “Everybody’s looking for something!” His penis filled my mouth up to the root of him. The taste and feel of him seduce me, soothe me, and enchant the evening. He watches intently but makes not one sound. Already his body is feverish. With my head in his hands, he guides me to straddle his penis rigid with the blood that filled it.
Deliberately swift, unable to pace, hungry for him, desire raging, my vagina swallowed him, clung to him, and throbbed. He thrust upward, sudden and strong. My vagina contracted in quick patterns and demanded that he fuck me harder. We were like a custom key and lock! Lock and key!!
“Slow down babe! Don’t move!” His plea was urgent. Immediately, my body went limp and still as my head nestled on his shoulder.
Carefully, we unlocked from the other’s body. I slid beside him on the blanket. We both were breathing hard and trying to calm ourselves for a moment. A shooting star appeared to cross over us and fell into obscurity on the other side of the hill. Andrew extended his finger as though tracing its path.
He muttered something I did not understand at the time to have such a double meaning. “Burn bright upon exiting the universe.”
He stripped naked and pulled me up by the hand. Laughing and doing a dance of his own, he asked; “Ever fuck standing up in a cemetery? Me either! There’s a first time for everything!”
He began to run through the headstones and let out a blood curdling rebel yell. I’m not sure how Colonel Calhoun and all his neighbors slept through the reverberations!