ConneXions (3 page)

Nowhere else I have lived since, has compared to the night skies.  They were so clear and
filled with stars that seemed close enough and bright enough to reach out and touch.
Especially without the lights from a nearby city to mar their splendor.  Or for the storms
and their staggering, majestic fury, the sheer unbelievable intensity and yet their brevity as
well; as living in that teeny tiny town, in the middle of nowhere...

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5

And So the End of Innocence

The year we both turned seventeen my best friend and I planned an overnight stay at the beach.  My Dad would have said “No” if I had asked him, yet I watched in utter disbelief
as he gave in readily when she did.  It was nauseating, but by god it worked!  She had him
literally eating out of her hand, just by batting her
baby blues
at him until he was all but convinced it had been his idea in the first place.

Off and running we went, with the light of the moon to guide us, giggling and chatting incessantly.  We marveled at our good fortune and were already lost to the adventure of it
all.  We didn't take much with us – a small pup tent, our sleeping bags, a couple of towels,
a bottle of water each, some nibbles, a torch and best of all, two menthol cigarettes and two nip size bottles of scotch, that I'd
liberated
from the cabinet in the lounge.

We'd cut through the paddock behind my house, dodging cows and cowpats as we went up and over the hill toward the beach.  The rhythmic sounds of the surf pounding against the
shore only heightened our excitement.  We were so young and daft; just a couple of
schoolgirls, full of ourselves and our own self-importance.  Thrilled to be
free
and outdoors in the night, thinking it all such a grand adventure and looking forward to a swim.

It was a gorgeous evening.  The moonlight danced and shimmered across the water making an inviting path that beckoned to us both.  Before long, we were squelching our
toes across the sand and doffing our clothes, making sure they landed somewhere beyond
the high tide mark.  Racing one another back to the water’s edge, shrieking with delight as
a wave broke in front of us showering us with cold sea spray; we made enough racket to
wake the dead!

It didn't matter.  It was late-ish on a Saturday night, all the
cool kids
and
townies
that only came up to the peninsula on weekends or over the holidays, were somewhere else.  Our beach wasn't a regular
make-out
or
hangout
spot, and the rich folks that owned the prime real estate overlooking the beach from above were either out themselves or not there at all, judging by the dark windows.  We had the whole place to ourselves.

We stood just beyond the water's edge, legs slightly apart to brace against the surge of the
tide.  We hugged our bodies as the cool water shocked and raised our skin to goose flesh.
  Naturally, the more we tried to fight the push and pull of the tide, especially as it swept back out and we struggled for balance, the more it seemed we'd be tossed ass about kite and into the drink.  More shrieks and gales of laughter were abruptly cutoff as another set rolled in and over us and we were indeed sent tumbling head first into the sand.  Gluttons
for punishment that we were, we struggled to our feet once more, hair loose in wet hanks
about our faces, arms outstretched, fingers reaching madly toward the other, grins a mile
wide.  We were so eager and ready and couldn’t wait to do it over and again.

Such a pretty moon it was.  It hung heavy and so bright above, painting our bodies silver as we frolicked in the moonlight.  Eventually she gave me a cheeky grin before launching
herself boldly into the next wave, swimming a little further out where I knew she'd be
happy for ages, catching waves and body surfing back in.  I needed the tranquility of deeper waters, but I couldn't help but laugh as I watched her go, the twin globes of her round and very white bottom reflecting the light above like moonbeams.

It was colder out of the water than in it, and my nipples ached from the cold, pinched tight like stones against my chest.  I dove under a large breaker, stretching my long limbs out and began to pull myself forward and further out and away from shore.  I kept my eyes tightly closed, there was nothing to see after all and instead felt the water as it moved over my body.

I've always loved the silky feel of saltwater caressing my naked flesh.  I'm not really sure why, but it's still the same sensual experience now, as it was then, one that has always felt gloriously sexual to me.  Perhaps because the very first time I ever dared to remove my clothes and swim in the ocean nude, the shockingly delicious sensations, gave me my very first orgasm.  I didn't even have to touch myself, the surge and release of the ocean did it all for me.

I stopped swimming after awhile in the deep water.  It was quiet, so wonderfully still and just... blissfully quiet.  Treading water to check my position, which was about 500 yards offshore, I lazily rolled over and over, slowing until I lay floating on my back, my hair billowing out around me like tendrils of seaweed.  I could feel my heart thudding steadily in my chest as I listened to my breathing and slowed it down, tuned into the small plops
and splashes of fish jumping and the sound of the water lapping against my skin.  My muscles were warmed, eased by the swim and it left my body feeling weightless.  Drifting with the slight rise and fall of the current, I relaxed completely, perfectly at peace and
content, like another piece of driftwood floating on the inky blackness beneath me.  I lay with my hands resting under my head, eyes wide and full of the stars above.  The Milky Way stretched out like a roadway of scattered gems above, the absolute magnificence and splendor reminding me of my infinitesimal place in the universe.

I never worried about sharks or sea monsters, or even getting whacked by a passing yacht.  Just figured that if I were meant to die that way, then it would happen regardless, so
scaring the shit out of myself was pointless. So I didn't think about it.

Soon enough, we were huddled about the small fire we'd made from gathered driftwood,
half dressed, with the tent erected behind us.  We'd eaten our meager supplies and sipped on our ill-gotten gains, thinking we were very sophisticated.  Yet there we sat, choking on our quickly dwindling cigarettes, while trying to outdo the other blowing smoke rings.  We talked for what felt like hours, but before long, we'd gathered our sleeping bags and dragged them out by the fire so we could watch the tide come in and search the heavens for shooting stars.

She was a very pretty girl, with a womanly body that made her very popular with the boys.  I envied her, her wonderful large breasts, wishing rather pointlessly that I were not quite so flat-chested.  We were opposites.  She was short, where I was tall.  My hair was long and wavy and hung down my back; hers was just to her shoulders with big corkscrew curls.  My body was all long limbs and athletically built with no bust to speak of, just huge puffy nipples the size and color of dark cherries with very little fat beneath.  I had a tiny waist, a flat stomach that flared into wide hips and long legs that were good enough for walking and running.  Her body was full-breasted with small nipples, a soft little belly, which I thought cute and she hated.  She had a nicely padded rear and shapely legs and a scattering of freckles across her pert nose.

She shared her tales of life and love and best of all, her adventures with the opposite sex.  I lived them vicariously through her, eating up every shocking, wickedly sinful and delightful detail.  I would have shared my
many
(haha!) exploits or even made up a few if I'd have thought it would help.  But apart from rather boring non events that usually started in a vehicle of some sort and more often than not, ended up with some poor fool trying to shove my head into his lap, and then me, full of spit and fire coming up swinging, there was nothing of any interest to tell... at least not yet.

I'm sure I’d probably already told her about the few times I'd gone out with guys minus the protective covering of my knickers, more for the sheer audacity of it than anything else.  I’d probably done it to see if any of them would even discover my secret.  LOL!  None ever did.  Not a one actually took the time to even try and seduce me, apart from a few sloppy kisses and tentative grabs at my nonexistent boobs.  What can I say?  We were kids and my experiences up until then were with boys, not men, who were just far more eager to get my hands or mouth on them and not the other way round.

By the time I found myself with an actual man, it would be months after this night.   He was twenty-four to my seventeen.  He was French, drop dead gorgeous with long thick black hair to his shoulders, incredible dark green eyes and a wicked grin that had me fired up so fast that I was silly-putty in his hands from the instant he touched me.  He barely spoke English, but it didn't seem to matter as from that very first kiss that ignited instantly from a spark to a raging inferno, we were both goners.  He did a lot of growling and groaning and rattled off long beautiful phrases in French that I had absolutely no idea the meaning of, but it excited me no end and he wasn't slow to notice.  We'd barely shed our clothes to go skinny dipping when he was all over me like a rash.  A very startling about face from what I was previously used to.  Before long, I was writhing in ecstasy as he laid me back against the sea, holding me there as he lapped at my body until I melted over and beneath him.  I still recall the phosphorescence glow surrounding us, stirred up by the friction in the water.

Still wrapped around each other, we stumbled from the sea to the house and into the shower.  I really liked the shower – with my legs locked tight around his waist, my back hard against the tiles, and my arms stretched out to either side, groping for purchase as he thrust himself into me.  I need not have worried; he was so strong and made sure I wasn't going anywhere.  He paused long enough to drop one of his hands and grab at my flailing arms, capturing my wrists and pinning them both above my head.  He bent his head, his eyes locked on mine as he licked and slurped first one nipple and then the other into his mouth, sucking, teasing, and tormenting the delicate buds, driving me higher and higher until I was gasping and keening my distress, desperate to come.

His stomach and chest drew my eyes, as the water fell over him, emphasizing every delectable definition.  The hair on his chest leading a happy trail downward drew my eyes while I watched in fascinated appreciation as he slid his length in and out of my body.  Words like “Tu es trés belle” were laced with much moaning and groaning, breathless gasps and cries before becoming “Tu es magnifique.”

As the muscles in his arms and shoulders bunched tight where he gripped me, his fingers bit deep into the flesh of my ass as he rocked and moved us together in a fluid rhythm, faster, harder, and deeper until I shattered into a million pieces in his arms. 

The next day I'd felt battered and bruised all over and barely able to walk, but I definitely wasn't feeling any pain then.

Romieux took the furthering of my stilted education very seriously, and what I lacked in skill and actual practice, I more than made up for in enthusiasm.  Quick to learn, eager to please, hungry for more, the language barrier meant nothing it actually helped in some ways as it alleviated my shyness, forcing me to pay attention to other clues and cues.

And dear sweet Lord above, did he ever have stamina.  The sun was pouring through the net curtains, his friend banging on the door and no doubt urging him to get a wriggle on, before we'd finally exhausted one another and collapsed into a sated and blissful heap.  I've never regretted one single moment I spent with him, and no doubt, when I'm old and toothless, I'll still remember fondly my bonnie Frenchman and his laughing green eyes.

It would not be until twenty years later that I would again be reminded of my night with him.  And yet even as brilliant as he was, he could not compare to the man who took my body, my heart, my very soul and keeps them close still.  LOL!  He loves the ocean even more than I do and has always been only too happy to stir up our own fond memories of magical interludes in the deep blue clear waters of Hawaii.

I sighed... Seems I forget now how we ended up in the middle of the country, landlocked and miles and miles away from the nearest coastline...

A kaleidoscope of
interesting and wonderful things happened to me the year I turned seventeen.  That started with us at the beach overnight and ended with me rather dramatically losing my virginity.  While it was certainly memorable and I'm sure I'll remember him and his name till the end of my days, it's probably not for the reasons you'd imagine.

We must have drifted off when the fire went out and reluctantly we dragged ourselves off to bed only to be rudely awakened by the tide as it seeped into our tent, determinedly trying to take us out to sea.  We'd forgotten that with the full moon, the tide was much higher than normal and the place where we'd pitched the tent, would have been fine on any other night... probably.

After more squealing and carrying on, we finally dragged ourselves and the water-logged mess along the beach to a grassy knoll where we spread everything out and huddled, trying to decide what to do next.  We were both cold, soaked to the bone, miserable and tired when somehow Michael was suddenly there, dragging us both up the hill to his parent’s house, trying to shut us up and offering to let us stay the rest of the night on the couches in their game room.

Michael's parents were one of those
rich folks
who owned a beautiful architecturally designed home that overlooked the beach.  I guess we had woken someone up after all.