Chapter 11

Bob’s turn:

Should’ve known better. Figured that for all the sass and the last two days’ worth of teasing, that when it came to the actual act of crawling into the bed together, I’d actually get an apprehensive, if willing, new wife.

Boy, was I ever wrong.

As the old boy said, ‘I got attackeded.’

It was like she’s been storing up all these ideas and expectations and the ideas all worked and the expectations were exceeded.

No tears. No pensiveness. Nope. Blonde, blue-eyed bundle of happiness.

We took a break for a hamburger at a place that builds them on-site with really good components. And for an additional fee, they’ll put a chocolate malt right there beside it and a batch of onion rings, and they don’t have ferns and nothing on the menu is labelled ‘artisanal’.

Came back home, Carlie waved at Art and Bekka who were working in their yard, and she and I climbed the steps back into the house.

“Round Two?” she asked.

“Lord, yes...”

“Don’tcha think we have too much clothing?”

“Yes, ma’am.” And I was stripping.

Giggles. I love the giggles. Not ‘giggles’ like I’m being judged and ridiculed, but ‘giggles’ like ‘I’ve found some really neat new ways to entertain us.’

Fact that I determined in the next couple of days – she’s NOT insatiable. She’s quick to reach orgasm. She just LIKES us coupling, mating, stimulating, touching, caressing, snuggling.

“We CAN, Bob! Any time we want.”

So we did. For the next few days we saw sunlight long enough to meet dietary requirements. We’d dash out to eat, dash right back home, and find out things about each other.

I have limits. Blonde, blue-eyed, hundred pounds, a fingertip (not the one she has me wrapped around) flipped my depleted dick.

“Baby, I think we killed it.”

“No, sweetness, I think it’ll be back. It’s NEVER had days like the last ones.”

“Are you happy with me, baby?” she asked.

“Deliriously,” I answered.

“You got enough strength left to pack bags for tomorrow?”

“I think so. Knees might be wobbly.”

Giggle. “I’ll be gentle with you later.”

She twisted out of bed, stood up.

“Ouch!”

“You okay?”

“I have sore muscles. Wow!”

“See?!? Too much of a good thing.”

“We’ll both have to be gentle, huh?”

“Hug me, with our old tired selves.”

Yeah, that works.

“Try something new,” she said. “Clothes.”

We got dressed, checked our overnight bags, added a few things for the next big adventure.

I gave Art a call.

“Oh, there you are ... Figured the vultures’d start circling any day now.”

“It was a close thing, buddy.”

“Hey, look, Bekka’s in town. How about I tell ‘er to get some good steaks. Maybe some fat, juicy rib-eyes. I got the makings of a pan of potato casserole. I’ll get Bekka to get salad stuff.”

“You’re worth your weight in gold, buddy.”

“Figured you need to keep your strength up.”

“I’m lucky I can move at all,” I laughed.

“How’s our girl?”

I looked over in her direction. She was putting ice in glasses, preparatory to pouring each of us a root beer. She bit her bottom lip in a smile, eyes twinkling.

“One word. Perky.”

“Figures. I remember ‘perky’.”

“Yeah, sell that to somebody else. Bekka’s worth her weight in gold, too.”

“Lot more gold than when we got married. ‘Course, there’s more Bekka, too, and if you tell ‘er I said that, I’ll deny it first and kill you later.”

Forty-five minutes later we walked downstairs and over to the Aucoin yard.

“Hi, Mizz Bekka,” Carlie said.

“Hi, hon. You’re an old married woman now. I can be just plain ‘Bekka’ if it’s okay with you.”

“That’s wonderful, uh, Bekka ... I guess I’m sort of adult now. Still sixteen, though.”

“If you can stand the separation, wanna join me in the kitchen? Salad stuff.”

“Sure,” wife said. The two of them walked off.

“Yep,” Art said. “‘Perky’ fits.”

“Always did. Some rift in the universe lets me experience a whole different dimension than just the joy of seeing her in my life.”

“I get the feeling that she’s real, Bob. Not one of those common variety teens I see all over the place.”

We enjoyed the meal, talking about tomorrow’s trip, Bekka and Carlie thinking they were terribly clever in exchanging thinly veiled double entendres. Final plan was to meet at seven in the morning, take breakfast at a diner near the interstate highway and then get on the road to the next adventure.

Carlie led me home, tugging my hand, waving and giggling.

“Oh, calm down, you,” she said. “We’re newlyweds. They KNOW what we’re gonna be doing, and it’s OKAY.”

Inside the door, she turned to me. “You, sir, are over-dressed.” She was shedding clothes as I chased her to the bed.

You can’t rape the willing. That’s one view. Another is how do you tell in that mess who was raping whom? It’s like I fell into a teenaged boy’s sex fantasy. I’m no love machine. I guess as males go, I might be on the soft end of the bell curve in actual experiences, and I know my partner was virgin at the beginning of the week, but for two novices, we sure do enjoy each other.

In the sticky rest period after the second session of the evening, I’ve got her in the crook of my arm. I’m on my side, my left hand idly tracing the strands of blonde hair flowing behind that pink conch of an ear.

“I wasn’t boring before, was I, baby?” she asked.

“Before what?”

“Before we decided we’d be married.”

“No, you weren’t. I worried. I mean, I didn’t have a wide selection of stranded waifs to choose from. I got very lucky. You could’ve been stupid, or regretting that you turned down ol’ Marcus and company.”

“What makes you think I’m not stupid?”

“Bright. Inquisitive. A 4.0 GPA on your report card. The fact that the school didn’t kick when you told them you had to take a week off to take care of family matters.”

“I am, you know. You might have to write them a note telling them that I have properly taken care of you.”

“It’d read like erotic literature...”

“Not all of it. There are friends ... Art and Bekka. Food.”

“Art and Bekka,” I inserted.

“And tomorrow a foray into applied sciences.” She giggled, pulled my head down for a kiss. “Of course, this has all been very educational. Physics – that whole ‘friction’ thing. Anatomy. Ergonomics. Physiology ... And I think we’re the perfect combination of eager student and able teacher...”

“I think we’ve learned from each other.”

“D’ya know how much I love you, Bob?”

“Enough to last the next few decades, I hope...”

“See?!?” she squeaked, “You’re just thinking of ONE lifetime. I’m planning on reincarnation, coming back, finding you, and doing this all over again.”

That did it. Time for a squash hug. I rolled over on top of her.

“Mmmmm. You know, I like feeling possessed like this. A piece is missing, though...”

I raised up, new-found erection and all. Pushed down.

“Ahhhhhh. There it is.” She pulled me all the way down, her lips against mine.

“Absolutely wonderful,” she sighed. “I’m all yours.”

I wrapped her in my arms, rolled sideways. Now she’s on top. “I’m yours, too.”

After that one, we had a period of lassitude, then a shower. I can get used to showering with an angel. She’s in a good mood, giggly, insistent on washing me thoroughly, as I am about her.

Squeal! “It’s CLEAN!” she said.

“Wanna make sure we didn’t get soap in it.”

“Fresh water only,” she said. “Soap irritates. Mine’s not like yours...”

“Thank god,” I said.

“Yours is easy to rinse.” Her statement was emphasized by her hand stroking me. “Mine isn’t. but YOU rinse and start things...”

“But I LIKE things.”

“Mmmm,” she grinned. “Me, too.”

Ran out of hot water. That’s a sign of things – one, check on getting a larger water heater, and two, get out of the shower and towel off. Third thing – towel shopping. Bigger and fluffier. And damn! She looks good naked.

Squeak! “You’re hard again.”

“Little naked blonde girls turn me on.”

“If I’d’ve known that earlier...”

“You might take advantage of me.”

“Only in the worst fashion,” she giggled. “Make you my sex toy.”

“A horrible, horrible fate,” I sighed dramatically.

“Now, we do some research,” she announced.

“What are we researching?”

“If wet hair turns you off. You know I don’t blow-dry every night. Want my hair to look nice in case some guy’s interested.”

“I’ve never slept with a girl with wet hair.”

Giggle. “By the time sleep takes place, it should be dry.”

It was still just a tiny bit damp when she and I pulled into a pre-sleep snuggle, her cheek against my chest, and I do believe I heard her purring.

We had the alarm set. It woke both of us up. Morning breath? Apparently not an obstacle. Morning wood? Opportunity.

A happy finding is that quickies are not as exploitive when both partners climax. It’s especially satisfying when your little blonde muffin rolls away and says “Wow!”

Shower. Dressed. Out the door at a minute before seven, just in time to see Art opening his front door.

Bekka followed him. We all loaded into Art’s big SUV and off we went. Had breakfast, per the plan, and a bit after noon, we were signing papers at the little airfield.

“It’s yours,” Gary Caston said. “Hope you have as many happy hours with ‘er as I have.” He kissed the old plane on its yellow cowling.

“One more flight?” I asked.